Austin Butler & Elvis Presley one shots

No stitches! - A.B

Yes I know this is extremely unrealistic but most my fics are lol. A on set medic would never actually give stitches on set or anything like that but it adds drama to the story so let's just ignore it 😉 

The set of Masters of the Air was alive with the chaos of filming. The air buzzed with energy, the crew hustling back and forth, adjusting lights and preparing for the next scene. Austin Butler stood off to the side, adjusting his uniform, ready for his next shot. He had always loved the adrenaline of acting, but today, something felt off.

The scene began, and Austin found himself in the thick of it, portraying a soldier in a POW camp. In one particularly intense moment, his character was being shoved by a German guard. But as he stumbled back, a metal prop swung out of nowhere, catching him right above the eyebrow. The impact sent him reeling, but he managed to shake it off and keep going, adrenaline masking the pain. It wasn't until he caught a glimpse of himself in the nearby mirror that he realized something was very wrong.

A thick stream of blood trickled down his forehead, splattering onto his face and the collar of his uniform. "Uh, guys?" he called, his voice a mix of surprise and annoyance.

The crew rushed over, their faces going pale as they took in the sight. The medic was on the scene within seconds, her expression serious. "Austin, you need to sit down. We need to get that cleaned up."

Austin flinched as she approached, backing away instinctively. "I'm fine! It's just a scratch," he insisted, even as the blood continued to flow, matting his hair and obscuring his vision.

"Just a scratch? You're bleeding heavily!" the medic replied, a note of urgency in her voice. "We need to take care of this before it gets worse."

"I said I'm fine!" Austin snapped, his voice sharper than he intended. The last thing he wanted was to feel vulnerable or restrained right now.

As she moved closer, he instinctively recoiled, turning away from her hands. "Don't touch me!" he shouted, panic rising in his chest. The chaos of the set seemed to intensify around him, voices blending into a frantic hum that only added to his anxiety.

"Austin, please," she said, trying to keep her tone calm. "You're going to need stitches, and I can't help you if you don't hold still."

"Stitches? No! I don't want stitches!" he cried, shaking his head vehemently. The sight of the needle, even the thought of it, made his skin crawl. The panic began to build in him, a familiar feeling he had tried so hard to bury.

"I can't do this! Just get away from me!" He stumbled back, trying to put distance between himself and the medic.

At this point, Callum Turner stepped forward, trying to bring some order to the chaos. "Everyone, step back! Give him some space," he commanded, his voice cutting through the noise. The crew backed away, but not without casting concerned glances at Austin, who was still bleeding profusely.

"Barry, come help me," Callum said, gesturing for his friend. They approached Austin cautiously, who was still pressed against a nearby wall, breathing heavily and trembling.

"Austin, listen to me," Callum said softly. "We need to get this taken care of. You can't keep panicking like this. It's only going to make it worse."

"I don't want stitches! Please!" Austin's voice cracked, tears forming in his eyes. He felt small and trapped, pressed against Callum as if he could use him as a shield against the medic.

"Just breathe, man," Barry added, placing a reassuring hand on Austin's shoulder. "We're here for you, okay? We're not going to let anything happen to you. But we need to get you fixed up."