@theartofmadeline
titsay
macklin celebrini has autism
★
Monterey Bay Aquarium
YOU ARE THE REASON
will byers stan first human second
No title available
Noah Kahan
The Stonewall Inn
Fai_Ryy
Sweet Seals For You, Always
NASA
EXPECTATIONS
oozey mess
Origami Around
Cosimo Galluzzi
sheepfilms
RMH
bliss lane
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from South Africa
seen from Mexico
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seen from Italy
seen from Malaysia
seen from Germany
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Morocco
seen from United States
@husheddrafts
Writing Again
I am back and I am ready to write!
I am currently writing for:
Jay Halstead (Chicago PD)
Sebastian Kydd/Benny Cross/Austin Butler (Character, Character, Actor)
Niall Horan (Musician)
Conrad Fisher (TSITP)
Kelly Severide (Chicago Fire)
Joe Jonas (Musician)
Evan Buckley (9-1-1)
Eddie Diaz (9-1-1)
My Requests are: OPEN
New York
pairing: Sebastian Kydd and Carrie Bradshaw
requested: yes!
warnings: canon divergence, reunion, second- chance romance, angst, bittersweet ending, hurt/comfort themes, emotional conflict, relationship history
summary: Carrie reconnects with Sebastian in New York as they try to navigate a love shaped by years of distance, timing, and almosts. However, when Sebastian’s future in California finally arrives, they are forced to confront whether love is enough when life keeps pulling them in opposite directions.
*This one is on the longer side, 2.4K words!
New York had a way of making Carrie believe in impossible things.
Maybe it was the skyline glowing beyond her apartment window, all sharp edges softened by distance and light. Maybe it was the hum of traffic that never really stopped, even late at night, as if the city refused to admit anything ever truly ended. Or maybe it was because, despite everything that had happened between them, Sebastian Kydd was standing in front of her door again.
When she opened it, neither of them spoke.
Not at first.
They just looked at each other like time was something neither of them quite knew how to measure anymore.
Sebastian looked older than the last time she'd seen him. Not dramatically. Just enough. His features were more defined, his posture steadier, like he'd finally grown into himself. There was a confidence about him now that hadn't always been there before; something earned, not given.
And yet, he was still Sebastian.
Still the boy who had once sat beside her in class when everything was simpler.
Still the boy who had broken her heart without meaning to.
Still the boy who somehow always ended up back in her orbit, no matter how far they drifted.
"Hi, Bradshaw."
Carrie let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.
"Hi, Kydd."
The smile that appeared on his face was immediate.
Familiar.
Soft.
Dangerous in a way neither of them had ever fully outgrown.
And just like that, the space between them collapsed into something that felt dangerously like home.
The first night was awkward in the way only two people with history could be.
Not uncomfortable but just careful.
Sebastian set his bag down like he wasn’t sure how long he was staying.
Carrie pretended not to notice.
They talked in fragments at first; catching up in the way people do when there’s too much unsaid to start anywhere specific.
Work.
School.
California.
New York.
And everything they were avoiding in between.
By the time midnight crept in, the tension had softened, not disappeared, but changed shape.
It became something quieter.
Something that lingered instead of pressing.
Something that sat between them like an unspoken question.
Over the next few days, Sebastian fell into Carrie’s world like he had always belonged there.
That was the part that unsettled her most.
Not that he was visiting.
Not that he was staying nearby.
But how easily he fit.
They wandered the city without a plan.
Late-night diners with sticky booths and coffee that never tasted quite right.
Bookstores where Carrie lingered too long in the fiction section while Sebastian pretended to be bored but always ended up reading the back covers over her shoulder.
Long walks through Manhattan where they fell into old rhythms: shoulder brushing shoulder, conversations drifting from teasing to serious without warning.
One afternoon, they ended up in Central Park without meaning to.
Carrie sat on a bench, watching couples pass by, while Sebastian stretched out beside her on the grass.
"You ever think about how weird it is?" he asked.
"What?"
"That we ended up here."
Carrie glanced at him.
"Here like New York?"
"Here like… this." He gestured vaguely between them. "Still talking. Still finding each other again."
Carrie looked away before she answered.
"Yeah," she said softly. "I think about it more than I should."
That made him quiet.
The conversation happened on a Thursday night.
It had been raining all day, the kind of slow New York rain that made everything feel slightly out of sync.
They were sitting on the floor of Carrie’s apartment, surrounded by takeout containers and half-finished conversations.
Sebastian stared at the food for a long time before speaking.
"I got the job."
Carrie already knew what he meant before he clarified.
"The one in California?"
He nodded.
"Yeah, that is the one."
The words landed heavier than either of them expected.
California wasn't just distance.
It was permanence disguised as opportunity.
Carrie nodded slowly, even though her chest tightened.
"When do you leave?"
"I have a couple of days.”
A pause then, quieter:
"I wanted to tell you sooner."
"I know."
"I didn’t want it to feel like…"
"Like goodbye?" she finished for him.
Sebastian didn’t answer immediately.
That silence was its own kind of confession.
Later, they moved to the couch, the rain now a steady rhythm against the windows.
Carrie leaned against him without thinking.
He didn’t move away.
Time blurred in the way it only does when neither person is willing to acknowledge it.
After a while, Carrie spoke again.
"You know what's funny?"
Sebastian hummed softly. "What?"
"I spent years waiting for the perfect moment."
He turned his head slightly.
"Perfect moment for what?"
Carrie hesitated.
Not because she didn’t know but, because saying it made it real.
"The moment where everything just… made sense."
Sebastian studied her face.
Understanding crept in slowly, like a realization he wasn’t sure he was allowed to have yet.
"Carrie…" he started.
But she shook her head slightly.
"I’m not saying this because you're leaving."
That stopped him.
"I’m saying it because it's you."
The room went still.
Even the rain seemed quieter.
Sebastian looked at her like she had just said something far more significant than she realized.
"You don’t have to…" he began carefully.
"I know."
"You don’t owe me anything."
"I know."
But she didn’t look away.
And neither did he.
There was a long silence.
Not empty.
Full; heavy with everything they had been circling for years without ever touching directly.
Sebastian exhaled slowly.
"Are you sure?"
Carrie nodded.
Not immediately.
Not impulsively.
But fully, completely.
"Yes."
Something shifted in his expression then.
The confidence he always carried softened into something quieter.
More vulnerable.
More real.
He reached for her hand like he needed to make sure she was still there.
"I love you," he said.
No hesitation.
No performance.
Just truth.
Carrie felt it hit her harder than she expected.
Because this wasn’t teenage love anymore.
This was something that had survived distance, time, mistakes, and almosts.
"I love you too," she whispered.
And that was it.
The final wall between them didn’t fall dramatically.
It simply stopped being there.
Sebastian leaned forward first, slow enough that Carrie had time to stop him if she wanted to.
She didn’t.
The kiss wasn’t rushed.
It wasn’t perfect.
It was careful in the way people are when they’re afraid of breaking something they finally understand is real.
Later, everything else faded into the kind of night that didn’t need to be explained.
There was no urgency.
No performance.
Only closeness.
Only trust.
Only the quiet understanding that whatever this was, it mattered too much to be anything but real.
The world outside kept moving.
New York didn’t pause for anyone.
But inside her apartment, time softened until it felt like it belonged only to them.
Soft Lights and Summer Nights
pairing: Austin Butler and Female Reader
requested: no
warnings: pure fluff, kissing and light romantic intimacy, showering together (non-explicit), domestic/cozy moments, temporary separation
summary: After a long day apart, Austin returns home to find the reader restless and missing him. A playful late-night swim turns into a warm shower and a quiet night tangled up together.
The house was quiet in that soft, late-summer way that made every little sound feel louder than it should have.
The sliding door was open just enough for the night air to drift inside, bringing with it the faint scent of chlorine and the hum of crickets from the backyard. The pool lights cast a gentle glow across the patio, rippling against the fence and the trees beyond.
You leaned against the kitchen counter, absently turning a glass between your hands as you looked out at the water.
It had been like this all evening, your attention drifting toward the backyard without even realizing it. The house felt different when Austin wasn’t in it. Not empty exactly. Just… quieter than it should be.
You heard the front door open.
Then the familiar sound of keys landing in the bowl near the entryway.
Your shoulders relaxed immediately.
A moment later, Austin stepped into the kitchen, running a hand back through his hair as he kicked off his shoes.
“Hey,” he said softly when he saw you.
You looked over at him, the tension in your chest easing without you even meaning it to.
“Hey yourself.”
He crossed the room toward you, eyes flicking briefly toward the open door and the glowing pool outside.
“You’ve been staring at the pool for a while?” he asked.
You gave a small shrug.
“Maybe.”
He stopped in front of you, one brow lifting slightly.
“You planning something I should know about?”
You leaned your hip against the counter, studying him for a moment before stepping closer.
“Maybe I’ve just been going a little crazy in this house without you here all day.”
His mouth curved faintly.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you said, sliding your hands up his chest, fingers curling lightly into the fabric of his shirt. “It gets quiet.”
Austin’s hands settled naturally at your waist.
“You could’ve texted.”
“I did.”
“You sent a picture of the dog sleeping.”
“That was an update.”
He laughed softly under his breath.
You leaned in and kissed him, slow and familiar, like something you’d been waiting for all evening. His arms tightened around you instinctively, pulling you a little closer as he kissed you back.
When you finally pulled away, he looked at you with that same amused warmth.
“Okay,” he said. “I see what kind of mood we’re in tonight.”
You tilted your head.
“What mood is that?”
“The one where you’ve been home alone too long.”
You smiled, brushing your nose lightly against his.
“Maybe.”
His gaze drifted toward the backyard again.
“Pool’s nice tonight.”
You followed his glance.
“You saying that like it’s a suggestion?”
“I’m saying it like someone’s been staring at it for who knows how long.”
You pushed lightly against his chest.
“Go change.”
He chuckled.
“Yes ma’am.”
A few minutes later the two of you stepped outside together, the cool night air brushing across your skin.
The pool lights shimmered softly across the water, turning the surface a deep glowing blue.
Austin carried two towels over his shoulder, tossing one onto a nearby lounge chair before glancing back at you.
“You coming in, or are you supervising?”
You stepped closer to the edge of the pool, dipping your foot into the water.
“It’s cold.”
“It’s not.”
“You say that every time.”
He watched you for a second, then reached down and tugged you gently toward him.
“You’ll get use to it.”
Before you could answer, he slipped an arm around your waist and stepped forward.
You gasped as the water closed around both of you.
“Austin!”
You came up sputtering while he laughed quietly, already steadying you with his hands at your sides.
“You’re impossible,” you said, pushing damp hair out of your face.
“Baby, you were stalling.”
“You threw me in the pool.”
“You’re welcome.”
You splashed water toward him in retaliation.
He blinked as droplets hit his face.
“Oh, that’s how we’re doing this?”
“You started it.”
Austin reached for you, pulling you easily closer before you could retreat.
“You’re the one who said you were going crazy in the house.”
“I didn’t mean drown me.”
He smiled, arms loosely circling your waist now as the two of you drifted toward the shallow end.
“Admit it,” he said. “You feel better.”
You leaned back slightly against him, resting your hands on his shoulders.
“Maybe a little.”
The water lapped gently around you both, the night quiet except for the occasional splash as you shifted.
Austin brushed a damp strand of hair away from your cheek.
“You get bored without me around?”
You looked up at him, expression softening.
“Sometimes.”
He studied your face.
“You’ve got plenty to do.”
“I do,” you said quietly. “But you’re still my favorite part of the house.”
That made him smile again, softer this time.
You slid your arms around his neck, leaning in to kiss him once more, slow and lingering. His hands settled against your lower back, pulling you closer until the water moved gently around you both.
When the kiss broke, you stayed close, your forehead resting lightly against his.
“You always come back,” you whispered to him.
Austin’s thumb traced absent circles against your side.
“Yeah,” he said. “I do.”
You brushed another quick kiss across his lips.
“Good.”
He huffed a quiet laugh.
“Is that reassurance for you or for me?”
“Both of us.”
For a while neither of you spoke.
You floated together near the edge of the pool, Austin leaning back against the tiled wall while you rested comfortably against him. His arms stayed loosely wrapped around you, warm even in the cool water.
You traced lazy patterns along his forearm with your fingertips.
“See?” he said after a moment.
“See what?”
“You survived the pool.”
“Barely.”
“Oh, whatever.”
You tilted your head back slightly to look at him.
“You like being dramatic.”
“I learned from you.”
You splashed him lightly again.
He caught your wrist before you could pull away, laughing quietly as he pulled you closer.
“Careful.”
“Or what?”
“Or I dunk you.”
“You wouldn’t.”
Austin raised an eyebrow.
“You wanna test that theory?”
You narrowed your eyes.
Then leaned forward and kissed him again instead.
It caught him off guard just enough that he laughed against your mouth.
“Okay,” he whispered. “That’s a pretty effective distraction.”
You shrugged lightly.
“I improvise.”
Eventually the water started to feel cooler against your skin.
Austin noticed before you said anything.
“You getting cold?”
“A little.”
He climbed out first, grabbing one of the towels from the lounge chair before offering you his hand.
You took it, letting him help you up onto the patio.
The night air felt warmer than the water now.
He draped the towel loosely around your shoulders before grabbing the second one for himself.
You stepped closer again, resting lightly against his chest as he wrapped an arm around you.
The backyard was quiet; pool lights glowing softly behind you, crickets humming in the trees.
You tilted your head up toward him.
“You know what the worst part about you leaving for filming is?”
He glanced down.
“What?”
“The house doesn’t argue with me.”
He laughed softly.
“That’s what you miss?”
“Obviously.”
You leaned up to kiss the corner of his mouth.
“Also you.”
“Good save.”
You nudged him lightly with your shoulder.
He pulled you a little closer, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.
“You’ll be fine,” he said.
You smiled against his chest.
“I know.”
The two of you stayed there a while longer, wrapped in towels under the soft glow of the backyard lights, the pool water still rippling quietly behind you.
By the time the two of you finally stepped inside, the quiet house felt warmer than it had earlier.
The sliding door shut behind you with a soft click.
Water still dripped from your hair, leaving faint footprints across the tile as you both walked into the kitchen. Austin grabbed the edge of his towel and rubbed it through his hair, shaking his head slightly like it might actually help dry it faster.
It didn’t.
You watched him for a second before smiling.
“You’re dripping everywhere.”
He looked down at the floor.
“So are you.”
“That’s because you threw me into the pool.”
Austin tilted his head.
“You say that like you didn’t deserve it.”
You crossed your arms, pretending to think.
“I’m pretty sure I didn’t.”
“You stole my peace the second I walked in the door.”
“Oh please,” you said, walking past him toward the hallway. “You love it.”
Behind you, you heard him chuckle.
“Yeah,” he admitted easily. “I do.”
By the time you reached the bathroom you were already shivering slightly, the leftover coolness from the pool clinging to your skin.
Austin noticed immediately.
“Alright,” he said, reaching past you to turn the shower on. “In.”
You leaned against the counter while the water warmed.
“You ordering me around now?”
“Just trying to get you warmed up.”
“You’re the sweetest.”
He glanced over his shoulder.
“I try.”
The steam began to fill the bathroom slowly, curling along the mirror as the water finally warmed.
Austin stepped aside, nodding toward the shower.
“Go on, ladies first.”
You stepped under the spray first, the warmth immediately easing the chill in your shoulders.
A second later Austin joined you, pulling the shower door closed behind him.
For a moment neither of you spoke, just standing under the steady warmth of the water.
Austin reached for the shampoo, pouring a little into his hand before looking at you.
“Turn around.”
You raised an eyebrow.
“Yes, sir.”
“Don’t start.”
You turned anyway, laughing quietly as his fingers worked the shampoo gently through your hair.
The touch was slow and careful, his fingertips moving through the strands as the warm water ran down your back.
After a moment you tilted your head slightly.
“You missed a spot.”
“I did not.”
“Pretty sure you did.”
He leaned forward slightly to rinse the soap from your hair.
“You’re lucky I’m helping.”
“You like helping.”
“Maybe.”
You turned back toward him once the shampoo was gone, brushing water from your face.
Austin’s hair was still messy from earlier, curls falling slightly into his eyes.
You reached up instinctively and pushed them back.
“There,” you said softly.
He studied you for a second.
“You do that every time.”
“You let me.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I do, I like it when you do it.”
You leaned closer, brushing your nose lightly against his.
Austin smiled faintly.
“That subtle?”
“Very.”
He leaned down slightly, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before stepping back under the water again.
The rest of the shower passed easily; quiet conversation, soft laughter, the comfortable closeness that came from being completely at ease with someone.
Eventually the water shut off, and Austin reached for the towels waiting just outside.
He handed one to you before wrapping the other around his waist.
“Better?” he asked.
“Much.”
Later, the bedroom was dim except for the soft glow from the bedside lamp.
The air conditioner hummed quietly, blankets loosely tangled across the bed as you both settled in.
Austin dropped back onto the mattress first, stretching out slightly before glancing toward you.
“You coming to sleep or just standing there?”
You slid under the blankets beside him.
“Patience.”
“Not my strength.”
He shifted closer almost immediately, resting partly against you.
Within seconds his head settled against your shoulder, one arm draped loosely across your waist.
You laughed quietly.
“I like this...and you.”
“You're pretty great, too.”
Your hand drifted up into his hair without thinking, fingers running slowly through the still slightly damp strands.
Austin exhaled softly.
“Careful,” he whispered.
“Why?”
“You keep doing that and I’m not moving.”
“That might be the goal.”
He tilted his head just enough to look up at you.
“You’re scheming.”
“Always.”
You leaned down slightly, brushing your nose against his.
Austin’s mouth curved in a quiet smile.
“Oh, so that’s what we’re doing.”
“What?”
“You’re trying to steal kisses.”
“Trying?”
Before you could answer he leaned up just enough to press a quick kiss to your lips.
Then another.
You laughed softly.
“That’s cheating.”
“You started it.”
“I did not.”
He settled back down again, resting comfortably against you.
Your fingers returned to his hair, gently combing through it while the room grew quieter around you.
After a moment he spoke again, voice softer now.
“You tired?”
“Not really.”
“Me neither.”
But neither of you moved.
The blankets were warm, the room calm, and the steady rhythm of his breathing slowly grew heavier as he relaxed against you.
You pressed one last gentle kiss into his hair.
Austin shifted slightly, nudging his nose lightly against yours before settling again.
Neither of you said anything else.
Somebody Else
pairing: Austin Butler x Female Reader
requested: no; inspired by the song somebody else by the 1975
warnings: angst, exes, jealousy, emotional confrontation, bittersweet, unresolved ending
summary: Months after Austin panicked and ended your relationship when things started to get serious, you unexpectedly run into him at a party but, you both are with someone else.
The party is too loud.
Music thumps through the walls, people laughing too brightly, conversations blending together until it all feels like background noise pressing against your temples.
You didn’t want to come tonight.
But your friend insisted.
You need to get out, she said. You’ve been hiding for months.
So here you are: dressed up, holding a drink you’ve barely touched, and standing beside a guy named Ethan who’s telling you about a hiking trip he took last month.
He’s nice, easy to talk to, normal.
You nod along as he talks, offering polite smiles, trying to focus on the conversation instead of the way the room feels slightly too warm.
Then you feel it.
That strange awareness crawling up your spine.
Like someone’s looking at you.
You turn your head and the world stops.
Austin, just across the room.
He’s standing near the bar, taller than most people around him, dressed in dark slacks and a black jacket that fits him almost unfairly well.
His hair is a little longer now.
Your chest tightens instantly.
Because his arm is draped casually around someone.
A girl.
Blonde. Elegant. Beautiful.
Your stomach drops.
For a moment, the entire room fades away.
Then his eyes lift, landing on yours.
The recognition is instant.
Surprise flashes across his face, then something softer.
Something dangerously familiar, but it disappears quickly behind the careful, neutral expression he’s learned to wear in public.
The girl beside him says something.
He nods absently, but his gaze flickers back to you again.
You look away first.
“Hey,” Ethan says beside you, noticing the shift in your expression. “You okay?”
You force a small smile.
“Yeah,” you say quickly. “Just thought I saw someone I knew.”
But the rest of the night becomes unbearable.
Because now you’re aware of Austin everywhere.
Every time you laugh at something Ethan says, you feel Austin’s eyes drifting toward you.
Every time Ethan rests his hand lightly against your back, you catch Austin watching.
And the worst part?
He’s doing the same thing; leaning closer to the girl he brought, laughing at something she whispers in his ear, his hand resting against the small of her back.
Your chest tightens painfully.
You look away.
An hour later, you can’t do it anymore.
The room feels too small, too loud, too full of memories.
“I’m gonna step outside for a second,” you tell Ethan.
He nods easily.
“Want me to come with you?”
“No,” you say quickly. “I’ll just be a second.”
You slip through the crowd before he can say anything else.
The hallway leading outside is quiet.
Cool air hits your face when you push open the patio door, and you inhale deeply, trying to steady the tightness in your chest.
You lean against the railing, staring out at the city lights.
Your heartbeat slowly begins to settle.
For a moment, you almost convince yourself you’re fine.
Until the door opens behind you.
You know who it is before he even speaks.
“Hey.”
Austin’s voice is quieter than you remember.
You turn slowly.
He looks exactly the same.
And completely different.
His hands are shoved into his pockets like he doesn’t know what to do with them.
There’s something cautious in his expression.
“Hi,” you say.
The word feels strange after months of silence.
An awkward pause stretches between you.
“You look…” he starts.
He hesitates.
Then finishes softly.
“Good.”
You nod once.
“Thanks.”
Another silence settles in.
Then his gaze drifts back toward the door behind you.
“Looks like you’re doing really well.”
The comment sounds casual, too casual.
You follow his glance, realizing he’s talking about Ethan.
Something sharp twists in your chest.
“Oh,” you say quietly.
Your eyes snap back to him.
“Don’t do that.”
Austin blinks slightly, “Do what?”
You fold your arms across your chest.
“Oh, don’t do that,” you repeat, your voice sharper now. “Don’t stand there and act like you’re making some observation.”
His jaw tightens slightly.
“I wasn’t...”
“Do you think it’s easy for me to see you with someone else?” you interrupt.
Your voice cracks despite your effort to keep it steady.
That stops him immediately.
Your hands tremble slightly as you continue.
“You broke up with me,” you say quietly. “You don’t get to stand here and look at me like I’m the one who moved on too fast.”
“I’m not judging you,” he says quickly.
You laugh softly, “Really?”
Your eyes flick toward the door.
“The girl you brought looks nice.”
Austin exhales sharply.
“You think this is easy for me either?”
Your gaze snaps back to him.
The music inside shifts.
Through the wall, faint and distant, the opening synth of “Somebody Else” drifts out into the night.
Neither of you acknowledges it, but the timing is cruel.
Austin runs a hand through his hair, pacing a few steps away before turning back.
“I didn’t expect to see you tonight,” he admits.
“Yeah,” you say. “Well. Life’s funny like that.”
His eyes drift back toward the door again.
Toward Ethan.
Then back to you.
“You seem happy.”
You shake your head slowly.
“You don’t get to say that.”
“I’m not, Y/N.”
“You are,” you say quietly.
Frustration bleeds into your voice.
“You don’t get to walk away from someone and then show up months later wondering how they’re doing.”
Austin looks away briefly.
“I never stopped wondering.”
The confession lands heavily between you.
Your chest tightens.
“You panicked,” you say softly.
His eyes flick back to yours.
“You broke up with me because things were getting serious.”
Austin exhales slowly.
“That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?”
Your voice rises slightly now.
“You remember that conversation, right? When I mentioned maybe looking at apartments together?”
His shoulders tense.
“And suddenly everything changed,” you continue. “You got quiet. You started pulling away.”
“You were talking about our future like it was already decided,” he says.
“That’s what happens when you love someone.”
The words hang in the air.
Austin rubs the back of his neck, frustration creeping into his voice.
“You were talking about moving in together. About five-year plans. About building a life.”
“And that scared you,” you say.
His silence answers for him.
Your voice softens.
“I would’ve chosen you anyway.”
Austin looks up.
“What?”
“I would’ve chosen you,” you repeat quietly. “Even if things got complicated. Even if it was hard.”
Your eyes sting slightly, tears threatening to fall.
“But you didn’t even give me that choice.”
The honesty hits him harder than anger would have.
“You think I didn’t love you?” he asks quietly.
“I think you got scared,” you say.
The music from inside grows slightly louder.
I don’t want your body…
Austin laughs softly, but there’s no humor in it.
“Seeing you with him tonight…” he says quietly.
He shakes his head.
“It sucks.”
Your chest tightens painfully.
“Yeah,” you whisper.
“And seeing you with her doesn’t exactly feel great either.”
Austin’s gaze drops to the ground.
For a moment, neither of you speaks.
The distance between you suddenly feels enormous.
Finally you step back.
“I should go.”
Austin nods slowly.
“Yeah.”
You walk toward the door, your heart pounding again.
Your hand reaches for the handle.
Then his voice stops you.
“I didn’t stop loving you.”
You freeze.
Your back still turned.
“But you left anyway,” you say quietly.
Austin doesn’t answer.
You glance over your shoulder.
For a second, the look on his face nearly breaks you.
Because the feelings are still there, clear as ever.
But neither of you move.
Neither of you reaches for the other.
Finally you push the door open.
The music spills out around you.
You meet his eyes one last time.
There’s something unfinished there.
Something that still hurts too much to touch.
But neither of you says anything else.
The door closes between you.
What Everyone Else Could See
pairing: Austin Butler x Female Reader
requested: no
warnings: soft romance, friends-to-lovers, light physical affection, kissing, emotional tension, fluff
summary: At a mutual friend’s wedding, Austin and the reader, who are longtime friends finally come face-to-face again after months apart. Everyone around them has always seen the spark between them, except them.
The first thing you noticed when you stepped into the reception hall was the lights.
Soft strings of warm bulbs hung from the ceiling beams, casting the room in a golden glow that made everything feel softer than it actually was; laughter floating across tables, champagne glasses clinking, music humming low beneath it all.
You smoothed your hands over the fabric of your dress as you stepped further inside.
The wedding had been beautiful. The ceremony had been held just outside the venue, beneath a sprawling oak tree draped in white flowers. Now everyone had filtered inside for the reception.
Familiar faces waved as you passed.
“Hey! You made it!”
“Of course,” you laughed, hugging one of your friends. “I wouldn’t miss this.”
Another friend leaned closer, a knowing smile creeping across her face.
“You know he’s here tonight.”
Your stomach did a small, traitorous flip, you tried to play it cool.
“I figured.”
She only hummed, clearly unconvinced.
“Well,” she said, giving your shoulder a squeeze, “don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
You grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing tray and took a small sip, scanning the room.
Tables were scattered across the dance floor, guests mingling between them. The bride and groom were surrounded near the center, laughter erupting around them as someone attempted to retell a story from college.
Your gaze drifted across the room and stopped.
Because standing near the far side of the reception hall, halfway between the dance floor and the bar, was Austin.
He wasn’t laughing with anyone.
He was looking directly at you.
For a moment neither of you moved.
It had been months since you'd last seen him in person. Texts and the occasional phone call kept the friendship alive, but it wasn’t the same.
Something about seeing him now; tall, dressed sharply in a dark suit, one hand resting casually in his pocket, made your chest tighten in a way you didn’t entirely want to analyze.
His expression softened the moment he realized you’d caught him staring.
And then someone pulled him into a conversation.
The moment broke.
You looked away first.
Later, at the bar
You told yourself you’d go say hello eventually.
But eventually turned into almost an hour.
Between catching up with friends, congratulating the couple again, and being dragged into group photos, the night moved quickly.
By the time you finally made your way toward the bar, the room had filled with the comfortable chaos of a wedding reception in full swing.
Music had grown louder.
The dance floor was packed.
You slid onto an empty stool and ordered a drink.
“Just a soda with lime,” you told the bartender. “I’m pacing myself tonight.”
“Smart,” a familiar voice said beside you.
Your breath caught and you turned around slowly.
Austin stood there, one elbow resting against the bar, looking at you with a half-smile that was both warm and slightly amused.
“Hey,” he said softly.
“Hi.”
For a moment, neither of you said anything.
Then you stood and stepped forward, wrapping your arms around him in an instinctive hug.
He hugged you back immediately.
Firm, warm, comfortable in the way only years of friendship could make it.
When you pulled away, you laughed quietly.
“You clean up nice.”
He chuckled.
“You’re one to talk.”
His gaze swept over you, not in a way that felt invasive, but thoughtful, appreciative.
“You walked in and stole the room,” he said.
You shook your head, smiling.
“You’re ridiculous.”
“Not wrong though.”
The bartender slid your drink across the counter.
Austin lifted his glass slightly toward you.
“What are you having?”
“Nothing exciting.”
He glanced at your soda and grinned.
“Responsible.”
“Someone has to be.”
He leaned against the bar beside you, close enough that your shoulders brushed.
“So,” he said, “how’ve you been?”
“Good,” you replied. “Busy. Finishing up things with work. You?”
“Same old chaos,” he said lightly. “Filming schedules, traveling… you know.”
You did know.
You’d known him long before the red carpets and premieres, before his name had started showing up everywhere.
That part of him had never really changed.
“You disappeared for a while,” he added.
“I could say the same thing about you.”
He smiled sheepishly.
“Fair.”
Someone passing behind you paused.
“Oh my god.”
You turned to see another friend staring between the two of you like she’d just witnessed something monumental.
“Look at this,” she said dramatically. “The universe finally put you in the same room again.”
Austin groaned.
“Please don’t start.”
“Start what?” she asked innocently.
“You know what,” you said.
She grinned wider.
“You two finally gonna admit you’re in love or what?”
You nearly choked on your drink.
Austin ran a hand through his hair.
“We’re friends,” he said.
“Uh-huh,” she replied.
Then she winked and walked away.
You both stared after her.
Silence stretched between you.
Finally you muttered, “They’ve been saying that for years.”
Austin chuckled softly.
“Yeah.”
But something about his tone was quieter than usual.
The band shifted into a slower song.
Couples began drifting toward the dance floor.
Austin turned toward you.
Then he held out his hand.
“Can I have this dance?”
You blinked.
The gesture was so natural. So effortless.
You slipped your hand into his.
“Of course.”
The dance floor felt warmer than the rest of the room.
He guided you gently through the crowd until you were standing near the center.
Then his hand settled at the small of your back.
The touch was steady, secure.
You placed your hand on his shoulder as the music carried the two of you into a slow rhythm.
For a while, neither of you spoke.
You just moved together.
Austin spun you once, smoothly, before pulling you back close.
“You’re a good dancer,” you said.
He smirked slightly.
“I’ve had practice.”
“With who?”
He leaned closer.
“You, mostly.”
You laughed quietly.
“You mean the one time we slow-danced at that party years ago?”
“And the time in your kitchen.”
“And the time at...”
“Okay,” you interrupted. “Maybe more than once.”
The music softened.
His thumb traced small, absent circles against the fabric of your dress where his hand rested at your back.
“You ever think,” he said slowly, “they might be onto something?”
“Who?”
“Our friends.”
You raised an eyebrow.
“About what?”
“Us.”
Your breath caught.
The dance continued, but the space between you suddenly felt smaller.
“I think,” you said carefully, “they like stirring the pot.”
“Maybe.”
You met his gaze.
“But?”
“But…” he hesitated.
Then he smiled slightly.
“Maybe they just see things we don’t.”
Your heart skipped.
You looked away first.
By the time the reception started winding down, the air outside had cooled.
Austin offered to walk you out.
The music faded behind you as the two of you stepped onto the quiet patio outside the venue.
String lights hung overhead, casting gentle pools of light across the pathway.
You walked slowly.
Neither of you seemed in a rush to reach your car.
“You know,” you said quietly, “they’re probably still inside taking bets.”
“About us?” he asked.
“Obviously.”
He chuckled.
“I’d hate to know the odds.”
You stopped near the edge of the parking lot.
The night felt still, comfortable.
But there was something unspoken hanging between you.
“You ever wonder why we never crossed that line?” you asked suddenly.
Austin exhaled slowly.
“Yeah.”
“Because we’ve had chances.”
He nodded.
“Plenty.”
You tilted your head slightly.
“So why didn’t we?”
For a moment, he didn’t answer.
Then he stepped a little closer.
Close enough that you could see the small shift in his expression.
Close enough that your heart started beating faster.
“I think,” he said quietly, “because if we did…”
His voice dropped.
“…one kiss is all it would take.”
Your breath caught.
And then he kissed you.
Soft at first, careful.
Like he was giving you time to pull away.
But you didn’t.
Your hands found the front of his suit jacket as you leaned closer, the kiss deepening just slightly.
Warm, certain.
When you finally pulled apart, both of you were smiling.
A little stunned.
“You were right,” you whispered.
He laughed softly.
“About?”
“One kiss.”
Months Later
The next wedding felt strangely familiar.
Same group of friends, same laughter, same teasing energy.
Only this time you weren’t standing alone near the reception tables.
Austin’s hand was loosely intertwined with yours.
Someone approached, eyeing the two of you with a knowing grin.
“So,” they said, “what finally did it?”
You glanced at Austin.
He squeezed your hand gently.
You smiled.
“One kiss.”
Austin leaned down slightly, brushing a quick kiss against your temple.
And across the room, several of your friends cheered like they’d just won a very long-running bet.
Six Months Too Soon
pairing: Austin Butler x Female Reader
requested: no
warnings: angst, emotions, bittersweet ending
summary: She thought six months would be enough time to learn how to live without him. But when Austin walks into the same bar on a quiet downtown night, all the feelings they tried to bury come rushing back, along with the truth that some love stories don’t end because the love disappears.
The bar was quieter than most places downtown, tucked between a brick bookstore and a dimly lit café that had already closed for the night. Soft golden lights hung low from the ceiling, and the hum of conversation mixed with the slow rhythm of a guitar from the small stage in the corner.
It was the kind of place people came to sit, listen, and disappear into their own thoughts.
Which was exactly why you were there.
You sat at a small table near the back, fingers wrapped loosely around a glass you hadn’t touched in a while. The music was soft tonight, something slow and aching, and the singer’s voice filled the room in a way that felt almost too personal.
Six months.
Six months since things had ended with Austin.
Six months since you’d last seen him.
You’d told yourself you were okay. Told your friends, told your family, told yourself over and over again until the words almost sounded true.
You had learned how to breathe around the absence.
Most days.
Your gaze drifted toward the stage again as the singer finished a verse, applause rising softly through the room. You let out a quiet breath, leaning back slightly in your chair...
And then you saw him.
You didn’t notice him walk in.
Maybe he’d been there for a minute already. Maybe you had just been too lost in your own thoughts to see him.
But suddenly he was there, standing near the bar, his tall frame unmistakable.
Your breath caught so sharply it almost hurt.
Austin.
For a moment you wondered if your mind was playing some cruel trick on you. But then he shifted slightly, turning his head,
And his eyes landed on you.
The recognition was immediate.
You saw it ripple across his face the same way it crashed through your chest.
Six months hadn’t prepared either of you for this.
Neither of you moved at first.
The noise of the bar seemed to fade into the background as you stared at each other across the room.
He looked almost the same.
Maybe a little more tired. His hair slightly longer. The familiar softness in his eyes still there, but now shadowed with something deeper.
Something careful.
Something that looked a lot like the same ache sitting quietly in your chest.
Finally, he moved.
Slowly weaving through the tables, he stopped just beside yours.
“Hi.”
His voice was softer than you remembered.
You forced your lungs to work again.
“Hi.”
For a second, neither of you knew what to do next.
Then he let out a quiet breath, running a hand through his hair.
“I didn’t know you came here.”
You gave a small shrug, managing a faint smile.
“Sometimes.”
He glanced around the bar, almost like he was trying to collect himself.
“Yeah… me too.”
The pause that followed wasn’t uncomfortable exactly.
Just… heavy.
Full of everything neither of you had said in six months.
The music on stage shifted again, the guitarist beginning something slow and gentle.
Austin glanced toward the stage, then back at you.
And to your surprise, a small, almost hesitant smile tugged at his mouth.
“Do you remember,” he said quietly, “how you used to drag me onto the dance floor even when there wasn’t really a dance floor?”
You felt a small laugh escape you before you could stop it.
“You say that like you didn’t secretly love it.”
“I didn’t secretly love it,” he said.
You raised an eyebrow.
He exhaled, that familiar crooked smile appearing for just a second.
“Okay. Maybe a little.”
Another pause.
Then he held out his hand.
“Dance with me?”
Your heart squeezed painfully in your chest.
This was a terrible idea.
You knew it.
But the look in his eyes, the same warmth that had once made the world feel steady made it impossible to say no.
So you stood.
His hand closed gently around yours as he led you toward the small open space near the stage. The music was slow enough that people were swaying more than dancing, bodies moving quietly beneath the warm lights.
When Austin’s hand settled at your waist, something in your chest cracked open.
God.
You remembered this.
The way he held you; careful, steady, like you were something fragile he never wanted to drop.
For a while neither of you spoke. You just moved together slowly, the music filling the silence between you.
But the memories were loud; the late nights, the laughter, the quiet mornings.
The life you’d almost built together.
Austin’s voice came softly above your head.
“I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”
“Me neither.”
His hand tightened just slightly against your back.
“Have you been okay?”
You swallowed.
Protecting him had become second nature a long time ago.
“I’m alright.”
You felt his gaze on you then.
Like he knew that answer wasn’t the whole truth.
The song ended too quickly but neither of you moved right away.
Eventually you stepped back, the space between you suddenly feeling colder.
“Do you want some air?” he asked quietly.
You nodded.
Outside, the city felt calmer. The night air was cool, the glow of streetlights stretching down the sidewalk.
You leaned lightly against the brick wall beside the bar while Austin stood a few feet away, hands shoved into his jacket pockets.
The quiet between you wasn’t the same as inside.
It was heavier, real.
“I’ve missed you,” he said finally.
The words landed softly but they still made your chest tighten.
You looked down at the pavement.
“I know.”
His brow furrowed slightly.
“You know?”
You gave a small, sad smile.
“You wouldn’t have danced with me if you hadn’t.”
He let out a breath, shaking his head a little.
“You always read me too well.”
Silence settled again.
Then you said quietly, “You did the right thing, you know.”
Austin looked up sharply.
“Ending things.”
His jaw tightened.
“I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“I know.”
Your voice stayed calm, even though your heart was beating painfully against your ribs.
“You were protecting me.”
He studied your face for a long moment.
“And you’re okay with that?”
You hesitated.
Then nodded.
“You didn’t break my heart, Austin.”
His expression softened, but there was confusion there too.
“You just made the decision I didn’t have the strength to make.”
The realization seemed to hit him slowly.
“You… would’ve stayed.”
“Of course I would have, Austin.” You gave a small, quiet laugh, “I was in love with you.”
The past tense hung in the air.
But both of you knew the truth hiding behind it.
Austin looked away, rubbing the back of his neck.
“I thought letting you go would make it easier for you.”
You watched him for a moment before answering gently.
“It didn’t.”
He closed his eyes briefly.
For a second it looked like he might say something else.
Something bigger.
But instead he just shook his head slightly.
“You deserve a life that isn’t waiting around for me to come home from another set halfway across the world.”
You felt your throat tighten.
“You deserve someone who’s actually there.” he continued.
You stepped closer then, reaching up and resting your hand lightly against his arm.
“I never stopped...”
You cut yourself off.
Austin looked at you.
Your breath caught.
“I never stopped…” he began too.
And then he stopped as well.
The silence that followed was thick with the words neither of you finished.
Finally you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him.
He held you tightly.
Longer than either of you probably should have.
When you pulled back, you looked up at him one last time.
Your heart ached with how familiar he still felt.
Carefully, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss against his jaw.
Not romantic, not quite goodbye. Just something gentle. Something full of everything you couldn’t say.
“Take care of yourself, Butler.”
His breath hitched slightly.
“You too, Y/N.”
You turned before you could change your mind.
Walking down the street beneath the glow of the lamps, you felt his eyes on your back.
After a few steps, your pace slowed, just slightly.
For one dangerous second, you almost turned around.
Almost.
But you didn’t.
Instead you kept walking.
And behind you, Austin stayed exactly where he was.
Watching the woman he still loved disappear into the night.
Seen
pairing: Austin Butler x Female Reader
requested: no
warnings: emotional heartbreak, angst (with comfort), PR, miscommunication, crying, hurt, comfort, more heartbreaking than toxic
summary: In private, Austin feels like home. In public, the reader is invisible.
The house always smelled faintly like coffee and cedar after Austin stayed over.
It lingered in the blankets draped over the couch, in the sweatshirt he’d abandoned over one of the dining chairs three days ago, in the hallway where his boots sat kicked off unevenly beside the wall because he never put them away properly.
Somehow, without either of them meaning to, he had become part of the house.
Part of her life.
“You seriously still can’t find it?”
You leaned against the kitchen counter with a smile tugging at your mouth while Austin stood barefoot in front of an open cabinet, squinting inside like the pasta strainer had personally offended him.
“I swear you move things around just to mess with me.”
“You’ve used my kitchen maybe six times.”
Austin looked over his shoulder immediately. “Okay, first of all? Rude. Second of all, I practically live here.”
Your stomach warmed embarrassingly at the words.
He said things like that casually sometimes. Softly. Naturally. Like he didn’t realize the effect they had on you.
Or maybe he did.
He finally found the strainer with a victorious little, “Ha,” before turning toward the stove where you stirred the pasta sauce.
The house was quiet except for music humming low from your speaker and rain tapping softly against the windows outside.
Austin walked up behind you without a word.
You barely reacted when his arms slid around your waist.
It had become instinct now; leaning back into him, feeling his chest against your spine, his chin settling onto your shoulder while he swayed slightly with you in the middle of the kitchen.
“Tired?” you whsipered.
“Mhm.”
His voice was rough with exhaustion.
He’d flown back into Los Angeles barely six hours ago after weeks of press and interviews, yet somehow the first place he came was here, to you.
You turned your head slightly, brushing your cheek against his temple.
“You should sleep.”
“After dinner.”
“You’re falling asleep standing up.”
“No, I’m not.”
You smiled. “Austin.”
He only tightened his arms around your waist.
You stared down at the bubbling sauce while warmth spread painfully through your chest.
This was the problem.
Somewhere between late-night movies and sleepy mornings and him memorizing which floorboard creaked outside your bedroom, you’d fallen in love with him.
And worse, it felt terrifyingly possible that he’d fallen too.
Movie nights usually ended the same way: you watching the ending alone while Austin slept through the last thirty minutes.
This time was no different.
The television flickered softly across the dark living room while Austin lay sprawled across your couch, one arm around your waist where you sat tucked against him.
His head rested in your lap.
Halfway through the movie, he’d drifted off completely.
You smiled faintly, brushing your fingers through his hair.
His face looked softer asleep, younger somehow and not the polished version of him people photographed constantly, not the charming interview version or the actor everyone wanted pieces of.
Just Austin.
Sleepy. Warm. Comfortable.
Home.
As if sensing you staring, his eyes cracked open slightly.
“You’re not watching the movie,” he mumbled.
“Neither are you.”
“I know how it ends.”
“You’ve never seen this.”
“I can feel the ending.”
You laughed quietly, and Austin’s eyes finally opened fully just to look at you, really looking at you.
That familiar softness settled over his face.
The kind that always made your heart ache a little.
“What?” you whispered.
“Nothing.”
But his hand slid over your knee gently.
Then: “This house is my favorite place in the world.”
Your breath caught.
Austin closed his eyes again before he could see what those words did to you.
It wasn’t perfect.
That was the thing.
You weren’t naïve enough to think it was.
Being with someone like Austin meant existing in strange, hidden spaces: Private dinners. Back entrances. Late-night grocery runs. Dodging cameras. Pretending not to know each other sometimes.
At first, it almost felt exciting.
Like something precious only the two of you knew.
But over time, small fears started slipping in around the edges.
Because the world knew versions of Austin that didn’t belong to you.
You’d see headlines linking him to actresses after premieres or interviews and your stomach would twist even while your brain reminded you: That’s Hollywood. That’s publicity. That’s PR.
And every time you asked indirectly, Austin reassured you.
“It’s not real.”
One night, laying tangled together in your bed while rain hit the roof softly overhead, you almost asked him: Then what are we? but the words never left your mouth because you were suddenly terrified of hearing something less than what you felt.
So instead, you stayed quiet.
And Austin kissed your forehead like he already knew.
The day everything broke started completely normally.
You were supposed to meet a friend for coffee downtown.
Austin had texted you that morning:
Busy day. Call you tonight ❤️
You stared at the heart longer than you should have before smiling despite yourself.
It was embarrassing how easily he affected you.
The sidewalks buzzed with people and noise as you walked down the street, adjusting your bag higher onto your shoulder.
Then you heard camera shutters.
Rapid. Aggressive. Familiar.
Your stomach tightened instantly.
Paparazzi.
You looked up automatically.
There was a crowd gathered outside one of the restaurants ahead.
At first you only noticed flashes.
Then security.
Then a woman stepping outside laughing at something.
Beautiful. Famous. An actress you recognized immediately.
And then,
Austin.
Your feet stopped moving before your brain caught up.
He wore a dark hoodie beneath a jacket you’d stolen from him once for nearly a week because it smelled like him.
A baseball cap sat low over his eyes.
His hands were shoved casually into his pockets while he leaned down slightly to hear whatever the actress was saying over the noise around them.
And then he laughed.
Soft. Easy.
The sound hit you harder than it should have because you knew that laugh.
You knew the tiny crinkle near his eyes. The relaxed slope of his shoulders. The way he ducked his head when he was genuinely amused.
For one horrible moment, he looked comfortable with her.
Your chest tightened painfully.
No one around you knew that you existed to him.
To everyone watching, she fit beside him perfectly.
A beautiful actress. A public pairing. Something people understood.
You stood there too long.
Long enough for your thoughts to turn ugly.
Maybe this was always temporary. Maybe you’d been stupid. Maybe private didn’t mean special to him the way it did to you.
The actress moved closer while cameras flashed wildly around them.
Austin instinctively placed his hand against the small of her back, guiding her past photographers.
Gentle. Automatic.
Your breath caught sharply.
That touch shattered you because it was yours.
Austin did that to you crossing streets. Entering restaurants. Moving through crowds.
Without thinking.
Without realizing.
Your lips parted slightly.
Your eyes burned instantly.
You tried telling yourself: It’s PR. You know how this works.
But another voice whispered louder: He still agreed to it.
Then Austin looked up.
And saw you.
Everything in him changed immediately.
The relaxed ease vanished so fast it almost made your stomach turn.
Confusion flickered first.
Then realization.
Then outright panic.
“Hey—”
His voice caught.
Because he saw your face.
Saw the tears already gathering in your eyes.
For a second neither of you moved.
The city noise blurred around you.
You could actually see the moment guilt hit him.
You nodded once: Small, broken like you finally understood something you’d been trying not to.
Austin’s expression crumpled.
“Wait...”
You stepped backward immediately.
“Austin,” the actress said quietly beside him, confused.
But he was already moving toward you.
Fast.
“Hey, hey—”
You turned before he could fully reach you.
The walk away felt unreal.
Your ears rang.
You heard him calling your name behind you while paparazzi shouted questions loudly enough to make nausea roll through you.
Then fingers wrapped gently around your wrist.
You stopped.
Austin moved in front of you breathing hard, eyes frantic beneath his cap.
“It’s not...”
You looked at him finally, really looked at him and his face fell completely when tears slipped down your cheeks.
“You looked really good together,” you whispered.
Austin physically flinched.
“It’s not like that.”
You laughed softly then, except it sounded awful. Small. Wounded.
“I know what PR is.”
“Then you know this isn’t real.”
Your eyes searched his face desperately.
“But it looked real, too real.”
Austin opened his mouth.
Closed it again.
Because what could he say to that?
Camera flashes lit up around you again.
The humiliation hit all at once.
People were watching. Photographing. Speculating.
And none of them knew you mattered.
You pulled your wrist gently from his grasp.
“I can’t do this right now.”
Then you walked away while Austin stood frozen on the sidewalk watching you leave.
The house felt unbearable when you got home.
Every room held him.
His sweatshirt still draped over the couch. The mug he always used sitting beside the sink. His favorite coffee creamer in your fridge. A script tossed carelessly across the armchair.
You stared at it all with blurry vision.
This wasn’t just some casual thing anymore.
He’d become part of your space. Your routines. Your life.
Your chest ached so badly it felt difficult to breathe.
You finally broke in the kitchen.
Right there beside the stove where he always wrapped himself around you from behind.
A sob escaped before you could stop it.
Then another.
You pressed your hand over your mouth, sliding slowly down the cabinet until you sat on the floor crying quietly into your palm.
Because somehow the worst part wasn’t even jealousy.
It was feeling hidden, replaceable like the world got a version of Austin you never would.
Austin showed up just after midnight.
You almost didn’t answer the door.
But when knocking turned softer, hesitant, you finally pulled it open.
He stood there in a gray hoodie and baseball cap, exhaustion written across every inch of him.
His eyes immediately found your face:
Red eyes. Swollen cheeks. The unmistakable evidence you’d been crying for hours.
Austin looked destroyed.
“Can I come in?”
You stepped aside silently.
The house suddenly felt strange with him inside again.
Like something fragile had cracked.
Austin pulled his cap off slowly, running a hand through his messy hair.
“I called you like twenty times.”
“I know.”
Silence stretched.
Then he started too fast.
“It’s PR, okay? The studio’s been pushing it for weeks and they wanted photos and appearances and...”
“I know what PR is.”
Your voice was quiet.
Austin stopped immediately.
Because that was the problem.
You did know.
That’s why this hurt so much.
You looked away from him, arms wrapped tightly around yourself.
“I just…” your voice broke softly. “I didn’t think I’d ever have to see it.”
Austin’s face crumpled.
He stepped closer carefully like you might disappear.
“Baby—”
The endearment nearly broke you all over again.
“You looked happy,” you whispered.
His eyes shut briefly.
“It wasn’t real.”
“But it looked real.”
Austin exhaled shakily.
“It’s work.”
You laughed bitterly through tears. “That’s supposed to make me feel better?”
“No.” He stepped closer again desperately. “No, I’m explaining it badly, I just...”
You finally looked at him and the heartbreak in your face silenced him instantly.
“Do you know what it felt like standing there?” you asked softly. “Watching everyone photograph you with someone else while nobody even knows I exist to you?”
Austin stared at you helplessly.
Because there it was.
The real wound.
You wiped angrily at tears slipping down your cheeks.
“I let myself fall in love with you anyway.”
The words hit him like a punch.
Austin’s expression shattered completely.
He crossed the room immediately.
“Hey— hey—”
His hands cupped your face gently.
“You think I don’t love you?”
Fresh tears spilled instantly.
“Then why am I the one hidden?”
Silence. Heavy. Painful silence.
Austin’s hands trembled slightly against your cheeks because he didn’t have an answer; not one good enough.
You shook your head slowly.
“I can’t keep loving someone quietly.”
Austin looked devastated.
Like you’d reached directly into his chest and ripped something open.
“You are not something I’m ashamed of,” he said immediately.
“But I feel like one.”
That broke him.
You saw it happen in real time.
Austin pulled you against him suddenly, arms tight around your body while you cried against his chest.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered roughly into your hair. “I’m so sorry.”
And for the first time since knowing him,
Austin sounded scared.
The next few weeks hurt.
Not because Austin disappeared.
Because he didn’t.
He kept trying.
Showing up. Calling. Wanting to talk. Wanting to fix it.
But something had shifted,
You still loved him. That was the problem.
You loved him enough that pretending not to mattered now.
Then came another premiere.
Another event. Another public appearance.
You almost didn’t go.
Austin had asked quietly three nights earlier while sitting across from you in your kitchen.
“Come with me.”
You stared at him.
“Austin...”
“Please.”
Something different lived in his eyes then,
Not fear,
Decision.
The cameras were overwhelming.
Flashes exploded everywhere as the car door opened.
Your pulse hammered painfully.
Austin stepped out first.
The crowd immediately erupted louder.
You almost stayed inside the car.
Then Austin turned, and reached his hand toward you, openly and without hesitation.
The entire world seemed to pause.
Your eyes lifted to his instantly.
Austin’s expression softened the moment you placed your hand in his.
Warm fingers tightening around yours carefully.
Certain.
The cameras went insane around you.
But Austin never let go.
Instead he leaned down slightly, close enough for only you to hear.
“I’m done pretending you’re not the best part of my life.”
And standing there beneath flashing lights and shouting voices
for the first time, you didn’t feel hidden at all.
Wedding Dress
pairing: Austin Butler x Female Reader
requested: no, inspired by Megan Moroney's song, Wedding Dress
warnings: angst, emotional infidelity, unresolved feelings, bittersweet, mentions of crying, open-ended
summary: At the altar, between almost and forever, she realizes her heart never left him and this time, she can’t pretend it did.
The room is too full.
Not in a bad way, just… full.
Voices overlapping, soft laughter, the hum of something warm and celebratory pressing in from every side. Your mom is behind you, fingers careful at the zipper of your dress, one of your friends crouched slightly to fix the hem, another hovering with a makeup brush she keeps insisting doesn’t need to be used again.
“Don’t move,” she says anyway, leaning in. “I swear this is the last touch-up.”
You smile, because you’re supposed to, because everything is good and everything is right.
The dress fits perfectly. The flowers arrived on time. The weather is exactly what you had hoped for. The man waiting for you at the end of the aisle is kind, steady, and loves you in a way that has never once made you question where you stand.
Everything is right so you don’t understand why your chest feels like this, tight; not painful, not sharp, just full, like something is sitting there that you can’t quite shift, no matter how many slow breaths you take.
“Breathe,” your mom whispers softly behind you, like she can feel it too. Her hands rest briefly on your shoulders, grounding. “Big day.”
“Yeah,” you say, your voice light. “Just nerves.”
That makes sense.
That’s what this is, nerves.
Your friend steps back, eyes widening. “Okay, wait! Everyone look at Y/N.”
There’s a small chorus of reactions; soft gasps, hands flying to mouths, someone saying your name like they can’t believe it.
You turn slightly toward the mirror and for a moment, you see it the way they do.
The dress. The veil. The way everything has come together into something that looks like the version of your life you’ve been building toward.
You look like a bride.
You look like someone who knows exactly what she’s doing.
Your chest tightens again.
It’s the smallest things that slip in; not full memories, not full thoughts but just pieces.
The faintest echo of a habit: fingers tapping twice against your wrist before lacing with yours. The feeling of someone standing just behind you, close enough that you didn’t need to turn around to know they were there. A voice, low and absentminded, humming something half-finished.
You blink, the mirror sharpening again.
You haven’t thought about him in a long time.
Not like this, not in a way that lingers.
You press your lips together, shifting your weight slightly.
Nerves.
It’s just nerves.
“Time,” someone says gently from the doorway.
Everything shifts.
Your bouquet is placed into your hands. Your veil is adjusted one last time. Your mom steps in front of you, her hands coming up to your face, thumbs brushing lightly beneath your eyes.
“You ready?” she asks, softer now.
You nod.
Because you are.
You have to be.
The hallway is quieter.
Each step echoes just a little, your heels clicking softly against the floor as you move forward. Your friends trail behind you, your mom just beside you, her hand briefly squeezing yours before letting go.
“Just walk slow,” she whispers. “Take it all in.”
You nod again, always nodding.
The doors ahead are closed.
The music starts on the other side: it's soft, familiar, something you chose carefully months ago when everything felt certain.
Your chest tightens.
One more breath.
The doors open.
It’s bright, warm.
Everyone stands.
You don’t look at them.
You can’t.
Your focus locks onto the end of the aisle—on your groom to be.
He’s smiling at you the second he sees you, something soft and steady settling over his features like he’s been waiting for this exact moment.
And you feel it, that pull forward.
That this is what you chose.
Step.
Step.
Step.
The dress moves around your legs, the fabric whispering with every movement. Your grip tightens slightly on the bouquet, your fingers curling around the stems just a little too hard.
Halfway down the aisle, the tightness in your chest shifts.
Not worse but, heavier.
Like it’s trying to get your attention in a way you can’t ignore much longer.
You keep walking.
You reach him.
His hand takes yours; warm, steady, grounding.
You hold on.
The ceremony begins.
Words float around you; love, commitment, partnership, forever.
You hear them.
You understand them.
You’ve built something real with him. Something good. Something that should be enough.
So why...
Your fingers twitch slightly in his.
Once.
And before you can stop it, your mind fills in the rest.
Twice.
A breath catches in your throat.
“Do you...”
Your name, the question.
It’s here.
Your heart pounds once, heavy, deliberate.
You open your mouth and something pulls.
Just slightly.
You don’t mean to look away.
But you do.
And you see him.
Austin stands near the back, half-shadowed, like he doesn’t belong in this moment and yet couldn’t stay away from it.
He’s still, watching.
And the second your eyes meet,
Everything settles; not into chaos, not into panic but, into clarity.
Don’t let me miss him in a wedding dress.
Your breath falters.
The room fades just slightly at the edges.
Your fiancé’s hand is still holding yours, waiting.
The world is still expecting your answer.
But you, you know.
Not in a loud, overwhelming way.
In a quiet, undeniable one.
You can’t say it, not honestly, not when this is still here. Still him.
“I...”
Your voice breaks, you try again...but the word won’t come.
You look at him,the man in front of you, and your chest aches with the weight of it.
He deserves someone who doesn’t hesitate; someone who isn’t split between what’s good and what’s true.
“I’m so sorry,” you say softly.
The words carry.
They land.
Confusion flickers first. Then something deeper; understanding.
Slow and painful.
He nods once, letting go of your hand.
You turn.
The walk back feels longer, quieter, and heavier but, clearer.
Your hands are shaking now, your breath uneven as everything you’ve been holding back finally catches up to you.
You reach the dressing room, pushing the door open and stepping inside.
It’s the same;
The same mirror. The same chair. The same soft light.
But it doesn’t feel the same.
You sit, the dress settling around you in layers, your elbows resting on your knees as your hands come up to your face.
And then it hits, everything; the almost, the choice, the weight of what you just did.
A sob catches in your throat, quiet but sharp, your shoulders shaking as you try to steady your breathing.
“God,” you whisper to yourself, barely audible. “What did I just...”
You stop.
Because something shifts behind you,
You look up.
The mirror.
And in it,
Austin.
He stands just inside the doorway, like he stepped in without meaning to, like he wasn’t sure he should but couldn’t stay out.
For a second, neither of you move.
Your eyes meet through the reflection first and it’s like no time has passed, like every version of you that existed with him is standing right there again.
“You’re here,” you say, your voice uneven.
It’s not a question.
He exhales softly, something almost like disbelief in it.
“Yeah.”
A beat.
“I didn’t think I would be.”
Silence stretches, not empty. Just full, too full for easy words.
“I almost did it,” you say finally.
The honesty comes easier now, even if it hurts.
“I almost said it.”
His jaw tightens slightly, his gaze dropping for a second before lifting back to you.
“I know,” he says quietly. “I thought… I thought I was too late.”
There’s no accusation in it.
Just truth.
Just what it looked like from where he was standing.
You shake your head, a small, fragile movement.
“I thought I moved on,” you admit. “I really did.”
Your fingers twist into the fabric of your dress.
“I built something good. He’s good. He’s… everything that should’ve been enough.”
The word catches.
“Should’ve.”
Austin takes a step closer.
Careful, like approaching something that might break.
“But?” he asks, soft.
You let out a shaky breath.
“But I kept missing you,” you say, the words spilling now, raw and unfiltered. “In stupid things. In songs. In places that weren’t even ours. In the way someone would reach for my hand and it didn’t feel like…”
You stop, swallowing hard.
“Like you,” you finish.
He looks at you like that hurt him and like he understands it completely.
“I tried not to,” you add quickly, your voice quieter now. “I tried to be done. I tried to let it be what it was supposed to be...over.”
A tear slips down your cheek.
“But it never felt over.”
He closes his eyes for a second, like he needs it.
“It wasn’t,” he says.
Simple, certain.
You shake your head slightly, almost frustrated.
“Then why did we let it be?” you ask, your voice breaking just enough to show how much that question still lives in you.
“Why did we just… walk away?”
His answer doesn’t come right away.
When it does, it’s quieter than everything else.
“Because I thought you deserved more than what I could give you then,” he says. “And I didn’t trust myself not to keep choosing everything else over you.”
The honesty in it lands heavy.
“I thought letting you go was the right thing,” he adds. “Even if it didn’t feel like it.”
You let that settle.
It hurts but it makes sense in a way nothing else ever fully did.
“I hated you for that,” you admit, a small, broken laugh escaping. “For deciding for both of us.”
“Yeah,” he says softly. “I know.”
Another step closer.
Now he’s right in front of you.
No mirror between you.
No distance left to hide in.
“I saw you,” he says, his voice lower now. “And I thought, if she’s happy, I won’t say anything. I won’t ruin it.”
Your breath catches.
“But you didn’t look happy,” he finishes.
You let out a shaky exhale.
“I wasn’t unhappy,” you say carefully.
“But I wasn’t…” You search for the word.
“Home.”
Something in him breaks open at that.
Subtle, but real.
Your hands are shaking again.
You don’t hide it.
You don’t try to fix it.
You just look at him.
“Tell me I’m not making a mistake,” you whisper.
It’s not fair.
You know that.
But you ask anyway.
He doesn’t answer right away.
Doesn’t rush to give you something easy.
Instead, he lifts his hand slowly.
Hesitates.
Then taps twice against your wrist.
Your breath stutters.
“I’m not going to tell you what to do,” he says quietly. “Not this time.”
His fingers curl gently around yours.
“But I’m not going to pretend I don’t still love you either.”
The room feels still again but not heavy, not like before.
“I don’t know what happens now,” you admit.
“Me neither.”
A small pause.
Then, softer,
“But I couldn’t say yes out there.”
His thumb brushes lightly against your hand; grounding, familiar, and real.
“Then don’t,” he says.
And for the first time all day,
Your chest doesn’t feel tight.
Saying I love you without saying “I love you”
“Being around you makes every day just a little lighter.”
[fondly] “You're such an idiot.”
“Got you, always.”
“I can imagine growing old with you.”
“I could sit here and listen to you forever.”
“Let me take care of you.”
“Nothing makes me happier than being with you.”
“Of course I trust you.”
“Seeing you happy makes me happy.”
“Something about you makes me feel safe.”
“Stay for a bit?”
“Stop making me smile, dork.”
“Why didn't you tell me you were cold? Come here.”
“You mean everything to me.”
“You were in my dreams tonight.”
“You're my favorite person, just… ever.”
If you’ve sent in a request, I have not forgotten it!! It’s been a hard couple of weeks so just bare with me 😅
Plan to write and post them this week!! 🥹🫂🩵
Writing Again
I am back and I am ready to write!
I am currently writing for:
Jay Halstead
Sebastian Kydd/Benny Cross/Austin Butler
Niall Horan
Conrad Fisher
Kelly Severide
Joe Jonas
Evan Buckley
My Requests are: OPEN
Safe in Your Arms
Requested by Anonymous
Pairing: Evan Buckley x Female Reader
Genre: Angst, Fluff
Characters: Buck, Y/N
Description: When Buck comes home after a hard shift, he finds Y/N locked in the bathroom having a panic attack. Buck does everything he can to calm her down and remind her that she's safe.
Home Late
Requested by Anonymous
Pairing: Evan Buckley x Female Reader
Genre: Fluff
Characters: Buck, Y/N, Theo
Description: Buck comes home late from a long shift to find Y/N and Theo asleep on the couch because they tried to wait up for him. Theo had had a rough day and wanted to see Buck before he went to bed.
Home is Who You Hold
Requested by @welcometoremiland and @peachysink
Pairing: Evan Buckley x Female Reader
Genre: Fluff
Characters: Buck, Y/N, Theo
Description: After hearing Buck talk about Theo so much, Y/N finally meets him herself; although sooner than expected.
When the Sirens Found You
Requested by Anonymous
Pairing: Evan Buckley x Female Reader
Genre: Fluff, Angst
Characters: Buck, Y/N, Christopher
Description: Buck asks Y/N to spend the day with Christopher while Eddie works. What starts as a quiet afternoon turns into a nightmare when they end up in the middle of an emergency. Injured and terrified, all Y/N can do is hold onto Christopher and pray that Buck makes it out alive.
Austin Butler for YSL
𝒾 𝒹𝑜 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓉 𝒾𝓈. 𝒾'𝓂 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝑜𝒷𝓈𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑒𝒹 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒶𝓊𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓃. 😮💨
always a Benny girl through and through
