butlervibesonly

[butlervibesonly]

Forwards hat? smash, backwards? double smash

[butlervibesonly]

𝐔𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 | Fourth of July | Austin Butler

• Summary: Austin has always been your bestest friend and what you love about summers is that you get to spend then with him. You spent every summer at Butler’s beach house where you and Austin have the best childhood memories. But now was teenagers, something switches between the two of you during July 4th celebrations.

• Pairing: teen! Austin Butler x teen! reader

• Warnings: fluff, kisses, love confession

• Belongs to: my love @eternal-love , because she loves young Austin and I wish this kind of love will find her!

🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸

 You’ve always loved summer at the Butler’s beach house, but this one feels different. Maybe it’s the way the evenings stretch a little longer when you're beside Austin. Or when you catch him staring at you during dinner.

Tonight, his family has gone all out for the 4th of July. Everywhere are string lights, flags and food with drinks, music filling your ears, laughter echoing in the air as his dad or uncles talk about funny stories or jokes.

You’re bare feet in summer dress, holding a plastic cup full of cola and crushed ice with a piece of lemon, sitting cross-legged on a striped towel beside Austin. Both of your hair is wet filled with sea salt and maybe even sand. You two have this tradition of ocean fights together that you two just participated.

He tosses you a playful smile, teasing you about how you got scared when he pretended to be drowning. You bump his shoulder with yours. “This is absolutely not funny, Austin, you could have drown for real.”

Austin burst out laughing, that easy, golden laugh you’ve known forever, and then lays back in the sand, folding his arms behind his head. “But you can’t deny you worried about me, miss.”

You lay back beside him, your shoulders barely touching. Yeah, you can’t deny you weren’t worried. You were worried as heck. You look up at the sky, the stars are just starting to peek out, the sun bleeding away. You stay like that for a while, watching the sky change. It’s comfortable. Familiar. And then, something shifts.

You feel it in the quiet. Not the awkward kind, no, it’s heavier than that. Austin turns his head just slightly, and you catch him looking at you. Not the way he used to. Not the way best friends look at each other when they’re sharing inside jokes or rolling their eyes at family drama. This look is different. Focused. Soft.

You hold his gaze for a time that feels way too long. “I missed this,” he says finally, voice low. “Being here with you. Like this.” You grin, poking his side. “We’ve been here all summer,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady, not letting out the shift you feel. “You literally scared the shit out of me few minutes ago.”

Austin smiles warmly, but it’s quiet. “Yeah, I know. But tonight feels like… I don’t know. Like something’s changing.” And you feel it too. The way your hands are nearly touching each others. The way you both look at each other. The way your pulse picks up.

First firework explodes in the distance, just a test run . Blue, red and white light flaring across his face. You see the hesitation in his eyes, like he’s on the edge of something. “I’ve been trying not to say anything,” he murmurs, almost like he’s talking more to himself than to you. Your chest tightens. “Say what?” you ask, your heart beating so fast in your chest.

Austin exhales, and the words come out like a breath he’s been holding for years . “That I’m completely in love with you, Y/n.” Your heart suddenly almost wants to jump out from behind your ribs. You sit up slowly, turning toward him, and he’s already sitting up too, watching you like he’s afraid he just ruined everything.

“I didn’t mean to… I just— I thought maybe you feel it too.” You stare at him for a second, wide eyes and silent, and then you let out a breath that turns into a soft scoff, not because it’s funny, but because it’s relief. Because you do. You’ve felt it since you were 5. You loved this boy since forever.

“I do,” you say immediately. Your voice is soft but certain. “I feel it, Aus.” He doesn’t answer right away to that. Just looks at you like he wants to memorize everything about this exact second. And then, slowly, like you both know there’s no going back, he leans in.

The fireworks begin in earnest now, thunder and light in the sky, but the sound of them fades as his lips brush yours, warm and careful, like he’s been waiting forever to get it right. And he does.

When you pull apart, cheeks flushed and grinning, he leans his forehead to yours. The fireworks go on in front of you. His family is cheering somewhere down the beach, but in this moment, it’s just the two of you, caught in something that finally has a name.

You. Austin. And love.

You stay like that for a few minutes, forehead to forehead, noses brushing, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. The world is a blur of light and sound behind you, but he’s so close, so still, and all you can think is: we did it. Finally.

You pull away a little to look at him, to really see his beautiful face. Austin’s cheeks are flushed, his smile just a little dazed, like he’s still catching up to the reality of what just happened. You’re probably wearing the same expression, even if you can’t see it.

“Did that just… happen?” you murmur, a breath of laughter in your voice. Austin grins, and takes your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. “Pretty sure it did.” You shake your head, still stunned, but glowing. “God, we really waited this long, huh?”

“Longer than that,” he says. “If we’re being honest.” You bite your lip, cheeks warm. “Yeah. Me too.” He wraps his arm around you, gazing out at the sky for a second. A big firework blooms red, white and blue above the water, and in the flare of light, you see the exact moment he looks over at you again, eyes soft, smile tucked into one corner of his mouth.

“I kept thinking… ‘don’t screw it up.’ Like if I said anything, I’d ruin us.” Austin explains and you literally felt the same way this whole time. “Me too… I was scared I would lose you.”

“But,” he says, gently nudging his shoulder against yours, “we didn’t ruin anything.” You look at him, heart swelling with love in your chest. “No. We just finally got it right.”

A silence settles, but it’s a good one. The kind that feels full, not empty. The fireworks are still going, the night alive with light and celebration. But here, with him, everything is calm.

And then, he presses a kiss to the top of your head like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and says, in that warm voice that’s just for you, “Happy Fourth of July, sweetheart.”

You turn to him, smiling so hard it aches in the best way possible. “Happy Fourth of July, love.”And just like that, your favorite holiday has a new memory. One that’ll last a lifetime. You and Austin, forever.

[butlervibesonly]

“You want to allow it to grip you and take you on a rollercoaster”

[yes Austin 😍]

[butlervibesonly]

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 || Austin Butler

Summary: Minnie Butler is the sweetest little girl. Absolute copy of her daddy. It’s bring your parents to school day in Minnie’s school. And she is more than happy to show off his dada.

Pairing: dad! Austin Butler x mom! reader

Warnings: tons of fluff

Proofreader: my sweetheart @eternal-love 🫶🏼

Note: I absolutely adore name Minnie so I picked it for this fic! But feel free to replace it with name of your choice 🥰 HAPPY FATHER’S DAY TO ALL DADDIES!

Another morning, another responsibility as a mommy of Minnie. Minnie is like Austin’s twin. She has his hair, his blue eyes, his full pink lips and those adorable cheeks. You wake up to a tiny hand patting your cheek. “Mommy! Wake up! It’s today!”

Her voice is small but buzzing with excitement. You open one eye and meet Minnie’s wide grin. The kind that’s missing a few teeth now. She’s still in her princess pajama, hair messy from sleeping. You smile and pull her between you and Austin. He is still half asleep, sleeping on his stomach, face buried in pillow.

“She’s right,” you say, nudging him. “Big day.” Minnie giggles and climbs on Austin’s back, lying flat on him, hugging him from behind, even though her body is so tiny compared to him. He opens his sleepy eyes, hair tousled, just like Minnie’s, no DNA test needed for these two.

He gives you that look. The look between the urge to stay in bed and the one of sympathy for his little princess. “She’s going to introduce me to her class,” he says, rubbing his face. “That’s… so much pressure.”

You chuckle kiss his cheek. “You’ve faced colonel Parker, Atreides, and saved the world on-screen. I think you can handle twenty preschoolers, love.” Austin just sighs dramatically, and turns around, tickling his little girl. Minnie giggles and squirms, and you know he was born to be a daddy.

By 9 AM you’re both standing in the warm, nicely decorated classroom, hand in hand with Austin, and Minnie sitting on his lap. Miss Ellie, claps her hands to begin the lesson, allowing the little ones to introduce their parents.

Each child takes a turn introducing their parent “My mommy is a nurse,” says one boy.

“My daddy fixes elevators.”

“My mom works at the library and lets me check out as many books as I want.” And then it’s Minnie’s turn. She stands up tall, proud smile on her lips. “My mommy is [job of your choice]. And my daddy,” she declares, “is in movies.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then a few kids gasp. One whispers, “Woah!” Miss Ellie smiles politely. “Oh, how exciting, Minnie! What kind of movies?”

Your daughter lights up, words tumbling out of her all at once. “He played the famous singer Elvis Presley! And also in sci-fi movie! He played villain and he was very—”

“Sweetheart,” you say gently, placing a hand on her back to shush her adorable excitement. She beams up at you. “And I saw him on the big screen in cinema with mommy, with popcorn! He’s really, really famous.”

A few of the kids glance at Austin now with curious eyes. He’s sitting quietly beside you, giving no indication that he’s recognizable at all, wearing his jeans and white shirt with jacket, looking like any other dad. He gives a little wave and a soft smile.

“Are you really in movies?” one boy asks suspiciously. Austin grins and nods. “Yes, I play various of characters.” And all the kids’ faces light up with surprise and they let out soft “wow!”

Later, while the kids play with toya and the parents sip coffee they received from the teacher, you watch Minnie, who is proudly smiling at Austin.

She doesn’t really care whether the other kids are impressed or not. She doesn’t need them to know which movie he was in, or what awards are tucked in the cabinet at home. To her, he is the greatest man.

But also, he’s the one who puts marshmallows in her hot chocolate, who lets her put a sparkly pink makeup on him, who does all the voices in bedtime stories. A little girl, probably Minnie’s friend, approaches her, eyes wide and curious. “Is it cool having a famous dad?” she asks Minnie curiously.

She pauses, thinking how to reply. “Yeah. But he’s my daddy first.” Your heart swells. You see Austin’s jaw tighten just a bit. He looks down at her, and you know he’s holding back tears. She is his little princess, and he couldn’t love her more.

He crouches beside her and pulls her gently into his arms. “That’s the best role I’ve ever been,” he says into her hair. “Your daddy.” Minnie grins and wraps her tiny arms around his neck. Not a hero. Not a villain. Not a man on screen. Just daddy.

[butlervibesonly]

YALL THIS

OH WILLOUGHBY….

Pushing the Ethel Cain x Austin Butler agenda once again.

[butlervibesonly]

𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 || Austin Butler

Summary: You are successful ballerina, and currently dancing through your debut as Princess Odette, a beautiful princess, who has been transformed into a white swan. Not only that, but you’re also girlfriend to amazing actor Austin Butler. Tonight is your premiere, but you receive a message he unfortunately won’t be there because of filming his next movie… but little do you know.

Pairing: Austin Butler x ballerina reader

Warnings: none, except for fluff

Proofreader: @eternal-love ❤️‍🩹

🩰🩰🩰🩰🩰🩰🩰🩰🩰🩰🩰🩰🩰🩰🩰🩰🩰

The theater is filled with excitement and anticipation. Chandeliers glittered above velvet seats, the orchestra tuned their instruments in a quiet hum, and in backstage, you’re standing motionless, heart pounding beneath your ribs.

Tonight is everything. Your very first premiere as Odette in Swan Lake, the culmination of two decades of broken toes, midnight rehearsals, ice baths, and infinite time of rewatching the very first original ballet. This is your first debut as lead at the theatre, a moment you have dreamed of since you were a little girl in pointe shoes and pink tutu.

But he isn’t going to be there, unfortunately… Austin, your Austin, raising Hollywood star, golden boy, and the man who holds your heart. You know he was away for weeks to film his new movie, and he should have turn back and come to see you. But you received a text few hours before the start.

Austin❤️

“My love, I’m so sorry... The flight’s grounded. Storms over the Atlantic. I’m still stuck at the airport. I’m heartbroken, and so sorry… You’ll be perfect. Break a leg. I’m with you in spirit, always.”

Your throat tightened when you stared at the message. You texted him back with sympathy, there is nothing he can do about it, of course. You slipped your phone into your bag. Well, not tonight, maybe next time.

Little do you know Austin is sitting at the VIP balcony, watching. He is here, and you don’t know yet. Only the stage lights touch his face. The text he sent you was sort of a lie, a carefully crafted cover. His real flight had landed early that morning. He hadn’t slept, hadn’t eaten much. He didn’t want to miss a second of your big night.

He promised you from the beginning: "When you take your first bow, I’ll be there. No matter what.” He wants to be the biggest supporter of you, just like you are his. The moment the curtain rises, Austin forgets about everything else.

In Austin’s eyes you’re ethereal, precious, and heartbreakingly beautiful, which you indeed are. The way you move across the stage makes the world hold its breath. Austin has watched you dance in rehearsals before, practicing until your feet bled. But this? This is different. Much more different.

This is you in your element, in your glory. In the pride of everything you put into this role. And you have absolutely no idea he is watching. Austin smiles as you transform into the Swan princess, movements so light as if you were feather, arms fluttering with unreal grace.

In the tragic second act, where you dance with aching sorrow, his throat burns. Your pain actually feels so real… maybe it is real, and part of him aches, knowing you believed he isn’t there. But he waits. He will make it right.

The final act comes, and you dance as if the world depends on it. You want to prove all people who came to watch you tonight that it isn’t waste of time. You want to prove you earned this fame by right.

By the end, tears sparkle in your eyes, and the stage falls into silence. You stay on your tip toe, feet and legs hurting. Then, it happens. Applause loud so much like a storm crashing over sky so suddenly. The audience rises to its feet. And so does Austin, though you can’t see him.

He would lie if he denied the tear that slips from his eye. He is so incredibly proud of you. You bow once, then again, castmates lining up around you. Your dance coach comes up too, for the ovation, and you all receive some flowers for successful premiere.

Your chest is still heaving from the final pose, and you blink into the spotlight. And there, emerging from the side aisle, climbing the stage steps with a large bouquet of white roses and gardenias, is him. Austin… your Austin.

Your eyes widen. You step back almost in disbelief. Austin walks to you slowly, with quiet reverence, his eyes locked on you with his warm smile. The applause softens into “awww’s” and murmurs. A smattering of camera flashes. But for you, the world has gone completely silent.

He stops just in front of you, gaze full of undeniable pride and love. “Didn’t want to miss the greatest debut of all time,” he says softly, smile so wide.

“But… the plane—” you whisper in disbelief and surprise. He chuckles softly, taking your hand.“Lied,” he admits. “I wanted to see your face when you saw me, my love.” Tears shimmers under your lashes, but you laugh, breathless, disbelieving.

You immediately wrap your arms around him, burying your face into his chest. “You’re the worst liar, Butler!” Austin laughs, rubbing your back. “Not liar, but surpriser.”

He hands you the bouquet, and when your fingers touch, the audience rises again, this time with more than applause, there is awe, warmth, something that feels like witness to a story that has found its perfect ending.

Austin raises your hand above you, gesturing that you’re the main star tonight, and he is more than proud of that. A ballerina and a movie star, caught in the center of the stage, soaked in golden light. You smile at the audience as a gesture of gratitude and undeniable happiness.

The moment the curtain falls down, you turn to Austin. “You were really here the whole time?” you ask, wondering and curious.

Austin smiles and nods. “From the first note to the last step,” he says, brushing a curl from your damp forehead. You smile softly, looking at him with so much love and affection. “I danced like my heart was breaking…”

Austin feels sort of guilt but also something that makes this moment even better. “That’s what made it perfect,” he cups your cheek. “And now… we put it back together.”

He kisses you, gentle but sure, and in that tiny moment, on an empty stage, in blue dim light, surrounded by golden confetti you realize this all was worth it.

[butlervibesonly]

MY MAAAAAAAN 🥹🥹😩😩😩 I WILL ALWAYS HAVE SOFT SPOT FOR WIL 🥹💕💕

Austin is Wil Ohmsford

[butlervibesonly]

THIS OR THAT

Got tagged by @eternal-love 💕

coffee or tea ll early bird or night owl lI sandalwood or lemongrass |I spring or fall || silver and gold |l pop or alternative Il freckles or dimples Il snakes or spiders |I mountains or fields II thunder or lightning ll norse mythology or greek mythology || green or red |l flute or guitar Il ruby or diamond || butterflies or honeybees || cake or cookies || typewritten or handwritten || secret garden or secret library Il rooftop or balcony II spicy or mild ll concert or theater |l london or paris Il van gogh or monet || petrichor or sea salt lI denim or leather || chatter or music |I forest or desert || dragons or unicorns || masquerade ball or yuletide party ll violence and heartbreak || hugs or kisses || bergamot or lilac

Tagging @peageetibbs-ab @butlers-angels ! 🤍

[butlervibesonly]

hey sooooo….i have no idea if you are accepting requests or not and i don’t want to impose on you or sth. also, i know we’re all very excited about hank and caught stealing movie coming out soon but if you ever feel like you’re back in your wil era, i would absolutely love to read more about girl dad! wil cause he has a soft spot in my heart himself but as a dad? im literally melting!! BUT no pressure, have a great day, i love your work!!!!!🩷☀️🫶

𝐀 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫 | Wil Ohmsford

• Summary: Stella Ohmsford loves stargazing, just like her daddy. And her little head is very curious, filled with so many questions about every little sparkling dot in the sky.

• Pairing: dad! Wil Ohmsford x mom! reader

• Warnings: none, just ton of fluff!

• Note: I used the name Stella again because ugh! I just think Wil would love that name for his little girl 🥹 And OMG! I never decline Wil request, I LOVE THAT BOY!

• Proofreader: my sweet girl @eternal-love

The Ohmsford household is filled with peace and quiet of the approaching night. You are already in your nightgown, preparing yourself a herb tea from the mint and lemon balm that’s growing on Wil’s garden. Fire in the fireplace crackles, as the wood burns, warming up the whole hut, leaving it cozy.

Wil promised Stella they will stargaze today. Wil loves stars and starry sky, and since Stella is totally Daddy’s little girl, it’s something she’s grown fond to as well. You take the cup into your hand, the surface of it warm thanks to the tea.

The wooden floor crackles under your bare feet, and you walk towards the door on the garden. When you open them, you step on the porch, the summer night breeze is warm. As you walk forward, you lean against the railing, and you see them…

Wil is lying in the grass, his gaze up on the sky, his arms behind his head. And next to him - Stella. If you didn’t know she is your snd Wil’s daughter, you would almost say her and Wil are twins. There is high resemblance between them, the pointy ears, ocean blue eyes, sandy blonde hair…

Stella is lying beside him, exactly the same way. Her little arms crossed behind her head, hair messy, her legs crossed as she looks up at the sky as well. You hear them talking, Stella’s voice soft. “Daddy, why do stars twinkle?” she asks curiously.

Wil smiles, happy to see she shares the passion for stars as well. “Well, ladybug, they twinkle because they’re dancing through the sky's shimmer. The air between us and them makes their light sparkle like fairy dust.” he explains for her to understand. And it’s the cutest thing ever.

Stella nods and looks up again, watching the stars twinkle. “Do stars have names?”

“Oh yes, many do. Some are named by ancient heroes, some by dreamers. And some... we name ourselves. Like that one there,” he points at the sky. “that’s the Laughing Star. I named it after your giggle.” Wil pokes her tiny nose and she giggles, exactly the way he loves.

“That’s silly, daddy! What about that big one? The shiny one?” she asks again, pointing at the sky. Wil follows her gaze and sees Polaris. “That one is called Polaris. People believe that this star used to guide sailors and travelers home.”

Stella nods, taking in the information, her little wheels in her head turning. “Can we go there someday?” When you hear her ask this, you can help but feel your heart swelling with affection. She is so innocent and small…

Wil smiles, snd turn his gaze towards her. “Maybe not with our feet, but with our hearts and dreams? Absolutely. You are good at traveling through wonder, sweetheart.” At that Stella smiles. “And daddy, do stars ever get lonely? Like they feel sad?” she asks again, so curiously.

He rubs her head, his palm feeling her soft hair under his touch. “Only when no one looks up to see them. That’s why we watch them, so they know they’re loved, you know?” Stella nods, and lays closer to Wil. She snuggles closer, yawning softly, her tiny hand curling around his finger.

“And daddy?”

“Yes, darling?”

“Why did you and mommy named me Stella?” You smile and you lean closer, wanting to hear what Wil will reply. He smiles softly and rubs her cheek with his thumb. “Because, my starlet, the night you were born, the sky looked just like this. Your mommy and I saw the brightest star shining right above us. ‘Stella,’ mommy whispered. In latin, it means star. And we knew—it was you.”

Stella’s eyes brighten, sparkling almost the same way the stars do above them. “I love my name. I wanna be a star too!”

Wil chuckles and scoots Stella closer, pressing a kiss to her hair. “You already are, little one. The brightest in my sky.” He lifts her in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder. As they walk down back to their cozy hut, a warm light spills from the window. You’re still on the porch, watching them with a soft smile.

“You two were out late tonight.” you grin, and Wil chuckles softly, lifting Stella bit higher. “The stars had much to say. And so did Mrs. Star.” Stella lifts her head sleepily. “Mommy...Daddy said stars dance. And... and I’m a star too...”

You giggle, and lean in to kiss her cheek. “You are, my darling. The best kind, the kind that shines even when your eyes are closed.” you ruffle her sift hair gently. “Say goodnight to mama, little starling.”

Stella keeps snuggling deeper into Wil’s shoulder. “Goodnight, mommy... I love you as big as the moon!” she mumbles tiredly. “And I love you as deep as the sky.” you whisper and watch Wil carry her to her room. He carries her to her small wooden bed, carved with little stars. He tucks her in with her favorite blanket, soft as moss, and places her favorite stuffed owl beside her.

“Sleep well, Stella. Dream of dancing among stars.” Wil brushes a blonde curl from her forehead, then quietly tiptoes back to the main room. You’re there, waiting, watching him with eyes full of warmth. He smiles and tucks you closer to him. “You always know just what to say to her.” you smile back, hugging him.

“She makes it easy... She sees the world the way I wish more people did, full of wonder, not questions that need answers.” You grin, your heart dancing with happiness. “She has your eyes… your hair, and your ears. But she wonders like I did when I was a girl.”

Wil chuckles and gently takes your hand in his. “The night you said her name for the first time... I knew it was perfect. Stella. Our little star.” You let out a soft sigh, your head against his shoulder. “She shines, doesn’t she? Even when the world feels heavy.”

“Especially then.” A silence falls between you, not empty, but peaceful, like the quiet just before a star falls across the sky. “Thank you... for giving her this magic.” you say, kissing his cheek. Wil smiles and kiss your forehead. Then he looks towards Stella’s room. “It’s hers already. I’m just lucky enough to witness it.”

[butlervibesonly]

Sigh…

I should write about Wil again, shouldn’t I.

(so in love with elfie boy)

[butlervibesonly]

He's so gorgeous up close in person 😍

I love how good he is to us fans 💕

[butlervibesonly]

𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 | PART TWO | Hank Thompson | Austin Butler

• Summary: Y/n gets into trouble again… and together with Hank. After her confession with her dream, Hank tries to help Y/n in all ways possible. It leads to troubles only, though.

• Pairing: Hank Thompson x female reader

• Warnings: alcohol, fight, cursing, reader getting hit by drunk guy, injury, fake pregnancy (labor)

• Proofreader: my sweet @eternal-love 💕

Hank offered you to work with him in the bar before actually making the whole flower shop dream make true. You help him to deliver drinks, clean the tables from time to time, and make sure the bar runs as it should.

You move behind the bar like you have been born to work there — fast, slipping a beer across the counter. The bar buzzes with voices, clinking glasses, football game from the TV hanging on the wall. And you completely enchanted Hank. He watches you blend in, carry yourself with that strange mix of gracefulness that you owe to Hank.

He doesn’t want to admit it but he feels something towards you. There is something about you that had caught him since yesterday. It wasn’t just the way you look, yet God, he can’t tear his gaze away from you. It is the way you laugh even though life is throwing rocks under your feet.

But Hanks is quiet, staying from this all.

It is easier to pretend you are just a girl in need, his roommate and someone he will help make their dream come true. He grabs himself a beer from the cooler, his cap backwards. He takes a sip, looking at the football game in the TV, but his gaze falls back in you.

You swipe the tables, only few people left in the bar. It’s around 1:47 AM, thirteen minutes before closing time. Hank is behind the bar cleaning up, sipping his beer, stealing glimpses of you as the last few customers finish up their drinks and head out. The bar is mostly empty now, and he can’t help but notice how you lean over a table to swipe up some crumbs. He clears his throat, trying to sound casual.

“Hey, Y/n, you mind giving me a hand with mopping this place up when you’re finished?” You glance at him, nodding. “Yep! Sure!” He nods back, relieved that you didn’t question why he needs your help all so suddenly. He grabs a cloth and starts wiping down the bar, waiting for you to finish up with the tables.

Hank glances over at you, watching as you work. There’s something about the way you move that he can’t quite shake, something that makes his heart beat a little faster. You finish cleaning the tables and you move back behind the bar, taking a mop. He watches as you take the mop, the way your slender fingers wrap around the handle… He shakes himself out of it, focusing on the task at hand. You start mopping the floor, working in rhythm without saying a word.

The silence stretches for a minute before he speaks up, his voice a little hoarser than usual. “So. Uh, you have any plans after this?” and then he realizes how fucking dumb is this question. You just chuckle, swiping the floor with wet mop. “At 2:00 AM? Probably going to your place with you and hopping straight to that comfortable couch of yours.”

He laughs, running his mop over a stain on the floor. He can feel the weight of the moment, the things he wants to say to you but won’t. “Yeah, probably a good idea. I’m too old to stay up all night like I used to.” He looks up at you, his gaze lingering a beat too long. “Too old?!” you laugh. “You’re literally the same age as me, thank you very much.”

“You know how I mean it, Y/l/n,” he winks, continuing wiping the floor. “But yeah, I used to be able to party all night and then go to work the next day, no problem. Now I’m lucky if I can stay up till two without feeling like a zombie.” he says, stopping with mopping for a while. You raise your eyebrow, stopping too.

“That’s bad, isn’t it? I mean you work at the bar, people are lying their ass here even past the closing time.” He runs a hand through his hair, sighing. “It’s not great, the hell it’s not. People expect me to be able to keep up, you know? Sometimes I just wanna lock up and go home and collapse on the bed.” He glances over at you, his expression softening.

“You are not seem to get tired, though. You’re like a machine.” Hank watched you work for one day, yet sees the enthusiasm you have for what you do. “Well, I have my routine.” You say, wetting the mop. “What time do you wake up?” Hank just shrugs, wringing out the cloth he’s holding.

“Depends. I’m here by six. But on my days off, I like to sleep in a bit.” He gives you a sly grin. “You trying to figure out my sleep patterns? Planning to sneak in and prank me in the middle of the night?”

“No, I am just calculating.” Again you stop mopping, leaning against the mop handle as you count. “Well, you’re here by six in the morning, meaning you have like one hour after sleeping to get ready and head here, that makes you waking up at 5 AM. That means you work here for fucking 21 hours, and if, by all surprises, you go home after 2 AM, it takes you another hour to get home, have shower, luckily some meal, and you go to bed at three. That means you have 2 hours of sleep a day! Gosh, Hank!”

Hank stares at you, a mix of surprise and amusement on his face. “Are you seriously doing the math on my sleep schedule?” He laughs, shaking his head, the sound a little rueful.“Jeez, I guess when you put it that way, it does sound pretty bad. But trust me, I’m doing just fine on two hours of sleep a day.”

You shake your head, thinking how absolutely insane he is. “It’s not healthy tho, y’know?” He leans against the bar, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’ve heard it all before. ‘You need to sleep more, Hank. You’re gonna burn yourself out.’ Boring.” He rolls his eyes, but there’s no real heat in it. “But I’ve been doing this for years, and I’m still standing, aren’t I?”

“If you don’t wanna die at 50…” you say and walk away to mop other side of the bar. He lets out a dry laugh, watching you walk away. “Hey, I’m gonna outlive you, you little smartass.” As you mop the other side of the bar, he eyes you for a moment. Something about the way your hair falls over your shoulders, the way your fingers grip the handle of the mop.

Damn it, Thompson, he thinks. You need to quit noticing these things. He can’t help noticing, though. The way the low-cut back of your shirt, showing off just enough skin to make his throat go dry. The way your hips move as you walk, the way your jeans fit just right He shakes himself out of the thoughts, but they keep coming back. Until…

You and Hank hear the glass breaking, and both of your gazes land on two guys, obviously hell drunk, pushing each other. Hank’s jaw tightens as the guys start to shove each other. “Hey, hey!" He reaches the guys, stepping between them, placing a hand on each of their chests. “Knock it off, alright? You wanna take it outside, fine. But not in my bar.”

One of the guys protests, pushing Hank away. “Get out of my eyes. This bastard is fucking liar!” Hank’s face darkens as the guy tries to push him away. He grips the guy’s shoulder, squeezing hard. “What the hell did you just say? Who’s a liar?” He pushes Hank again, trying to drag him away to get the other guy.

“Hey! Enough!” Hank’s patience snaps. He shoves the guy back, hard. He can hear you gasp behind the bar, and he feels a pang of guilt, but he’s too worked up to stop now. You try to be helpful, to help Hank from this shitty situation. You grip the guy’s hand and try to drag him away from Hank.

But before you can say anything, the guy is too drunk and completely unaware of his movements, and he throws his hand backwards, his hard fist hitting your cheekbone. Hank sees what happens in slow motion. He sees the guy’s hand fly back, sees it connect with your cheek. His face gets red from anger as you stagger back. “Shit!”

He lunges towards the guy, grabbing him by the collar, shoving him into the wall. “You fucking idiot-“ The guy is completely drunk, and he’s trying to fight back, but Hank’s anger is like a whirlwind. He punches him hard, once, twice, three times, his knuckles connecting with the guy’s face, his own vision hazy with anger.

Hank then stands over the guy, breathing heavily, his chest heaving. He feels something wet trickle down his knuckles, and he looks down to see his knuckles covered in blood. He shakes it off, focusing on you. You’re standing a few feet away, clutching your cheek, the beginnings of a nasty bruise already forming.

He walks over to you, his expression turning soft as he reaches out to touch your cheek. He hesitates for a second, his fingers just barely brushing the bruised skin. “Fuck it, I’m sorry.” You wince even at the slightest touch, the cheekbone hurting as hell.

Hank’s gaze darts back to the guys still standing at the bar, their eyes shifting between him and you. “Get the hell out of here!” They all scatter quickly, leaving their empty glasses on the bar. He turns back to you, concern etched across his face. He runs his thumb gently along your jawline, as if trying to soothe the pain.

Your cheekbone gets swollen, bruised. Probably broken. His brow furrows as he sees the extent of the swelling. “Damn it, we should probably get you to a hospital. That looks bad.” You sigh, gaze landing on the beer he was drinking. “Hank, you were drinking…” He hesitates, knowing he probably shouldn’t be driving. “I’m fine. I only had a couple beers, I can drive.”

He can tell you don’t believe him, but he doesn’t care. He’s not gonna let you wait for a cab alone with that injury. He grabs his jacket and keys from behind the bar, slinging the jacket on. “Come on.” You follow him, clutching your aching cheek. Hank locks the bar, and gazes at you, feeling fucking guilty to drag you into this shit.

He leads you outside, the cool New York night air a stark contrast to the humid warmth of the bar. He opens the passenger door for you, helping you into the car. “Just hang tight. I’ll get us to the hospital.” He shuts the door and walks around to the driver’s side, getting in and starting the engine. He casts a concerned glance in your direction, his jaw clenching as he sees your swollen cheek.

The road is empty, only full of gleam of streetlamps and the rhythmic flicker of neon from shop signs. Hank grips the steering wheel with blood-knuckled hands, the silence in the car loud.

Beside him, you’re sitting curled into yourself your hand on your cheek. Your right cheek is already swollen, purple blooming like spilled ink beneath your eye. You haven’t said a word since you and Hank left the bar. “You didn’t have to jump in like that,” Hank mutters finally, his voice rough with guilt and fading adrenaline. “I had it under control.”

“I wanted to help you,” you say, not looking at him. Your voice cracks on the last word. You wipe at your good eye, streaking mascara over your face. Hank doesn’t argue. Instead, he presses harder on the gas. The hospital is twenty minutes away. But the fate has different plan.

Red and blue light flooded the rearview mirror. A siren wailed. Hank curses under his breath. Fuck! This can’t be worse, can it?” He eases his foot off the gas, heart hammering in his chest. The car begins to slow, and with it, his sense of safety unraveling. “I’m going to lose my license,” he says. “Probably get booked.” he grunts, knowing he was drinking.

“No,” you say suddenly, sitting upright. “Pull over. But don’t say anything. Just trust me.”

“What?”

“Just do it, Hank.” you command, taking off your hoodie, and without hesitation, shove it under your t-shirt, stuffing and shaping it around your stomach. “What the — are you insane?” Hank’s eyes widen. You turn to him, dead serious.

“You’re taking your very pregnant wife to the hospital. I’m in labor. You’re just a desperate, possibly stupid, but definitely brave man trying to do the right thing. Got it?” Hank’s car comes to a full stop on the shoulder. The police cruiser slid in behind them.

“Yeah, you are insane,” Hank murmurs, but something in your eyes, calculating panic, makes him shut up and nod. “Okay. Okay.” The officer’s flashlight hit the mirror and then them. Boots crunched on gravel. Hank rolls the window down, trying to keep his expression somewhere between urgent and not guilty.

“License and registration,” the officer says, eyes narrowed. Hank fumbles for his wallet, and beside him, you let out a groan. The officer shines the flashlight in your direction. “Everything alright, ma’am?”

“No!” Suddenly you gasp, acting damn good. “Oh! Oh gosh, I think my water just broke!” You clutch the fake belly like you’ve been stabbed. Your face twisted in fake pain. “I’ve been having contractions for twenty minutes. I was waiting for him to get from work, and… ahh! But now they’re two minutes apart!” The officer’s eyes widen.

“My wife is having a baby,” Hank says, his voice rising an octave. “I know I was speeding, I am just trying to get her to hospital.” You act convincingly, taking Hank’s hand and grasping it, painful moans escaping your lips. “Love! It hurts, I can’t have our baby in this goddamn car!”

The officer nearly drops his flashlight. “Alright, okay! Make sure to get there safely. Good luck. The officer spins on his heel snd disappears to the car, driving away. As Hank starts the engine again, he turns to you. “You are terrifying.” You slump back in the seat, finally allowing yourself a small smile. “And you’re welcome.”

By the time you got into the ER parking lot, the adrenaline wearing off. Hank exhales like he’d been holding the breath for the last ten miles.

You yank the hoodie out from under your t-shirt, wincing as the motion pulled at the side of your bruised face. “You alright?” Hank asks, cutting the engine. You look at him. “You mean, aside from the shattered cheekbone and impersonating a woman in labor?”

“Yeah. Aside from that.”

A ghost of a smile crosses your lips. “I’ve had worse nights.” Hank gets out and rounds the car to open door for you. You slide down carefully, one hand clutching your face now that the heat of the lie is fading. It throbs like a drum under your skin.

Inside the ER, the bright lights hits you like a slap, bright, cold, unkind. You can already smell the sanitizer, the sounds of beeping, phone calls, and footsteps of doctors. The elder nurse barely looks up from her clipboard. “Name?” the nurse asked.

“Y/n Y/l/n.” you reply, and the nurse types on her keyboard, and then she looks at you and Hank. She sees the bruise under your eye. “She got punched. Drunk guy in a bar fight. Needs a doctor, face looks bad.”

“You think it’s broken?” she asks you directly. “I don’t know. But it feels like someone tried to beat my skull in with hammer.” The nurse scribbled something down again. “Insurance?”

You blink few times. “Uh…”

“She’s with me,” Hank says quickly, stepping in again. “Put it under my information. Just get her checked.” The nurse looks between the two of you. “Take a seat. We’ll call you.”

You and Hanks sit side by side in the plastic chairs. The waiting room is humming with quiet might chaos, a man with his hand in a bloody towel, a woman talking to herself . You lean your head back against the wall and close your eyes “Thanks,” you murmur softly.

“For what?”

“For backing me up, again. For not laughing when I stuffed a hoodie up my t-shirt. For not asking a thousand questions.” Hank chuckles, amused. “You saved our asses, Y/n.”

“You could’ve gotten arrested.”

“I still might. Depends how good your acting really was.”

You crack one eye open, chucking. “I should get an Oscar! For that scream alone.” He looks at you for a long moment. Then say, more quietly, “I didn’t like seeing you hurt.” Before you can answer, a nurse appears at the doorway and calls your name.

“Guess that’s me,” you say, pushing yourself up to your feet. Hank rises up too. “I’ll wait.” You look at him, already feeling like a burden. “You don’t have to-“

“I know. But I want to.”

You study him for a beat, as if trying to figure out where he is drawing the line, if there is anything he wouldn’t do right now. Then you nod and follow the nurse through the double doors. Another night, another shit. And dipped in everything with Hank…

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THE CAUGHT STEALING TRAILER DROPPED?!!!!

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Good Morning Austin Girls!

theme 945: why does he feed us so well!

GMAG! Tag List:

Sometimes tags work sometimes they don’t!

If you want to be added to the tag list, please send me a message.

@ilovemycrayons @blurredcolour @dre6ming @slowsweetlove @pennyroyalcreep @austiebuttbutt @lisathewife101 @jojam10 @crackerbarrelslut @katsukis1wife @purejasmine @feral-fae-writes @eliseinmemphis @klizzie93 @scarlet-sunsets @austinbutlermischief @dazzledbycarrie @sunset-striptease-too @chasingwildflowers @kctj82 @alikaheroes @xanatenshi @b-bradshaw @auvis @ifuckindontknow @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha @thenatallie @cynic-spirit @daffieapple @flowerchild-1991

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ME NOW??? CAUSE QUEEN COOKED, ATE, SERVED AND LEFT NO CRUMBS.

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN THIS??!!!

WESTERN NIGHTS

Pairing: Benny Cross x Reader

Summary: You loved Benny, so much so that you were willing to put up with him. You were naive. Trying to look for freedom and love amidst his violent nature

Warning: Mentions of abuse, Benny gets violent, rough sex, Benny hurts reader, Benny is emotionally and verbally abusive towards reader. Just, Benny is an asshole.

Authors note: sorry I’ve meen MIA, but work and school have me on a fucking leash. And my mental health wasn’t the best either. But I do hope you guys enjoy this.

You didn’t even want to go out tonight, the house was a mess, it reeked of alcohol and something else you couldn’t quite figure out but it surely wasn’t a place you wanted to live in. But he had looked at you with his striking blue eyes, cigarette hanging from his mouth while putting on his jacket.

“We’re going to the bar. More than ten minutes—“ He kept fixing up his jacket. “, and you’re staying here.

He sat on his Harvey outside the house, waiting and waiting, roaring the engine to hurry you up. He was always like this, impatient. You ran around your bedroom, teasing the crown of your hair, trying to curl your lashes. Half of the time you looked like a mess. And even if you put on lashes or tried to have a decent bouffant. The wind would mess up your lashes, he would make a mess out of your teased hair when he fucked you.

In the bar, Benny only laughed but barely talked, and his laugh wasn’t loud, he only caught attention with his silence, with his body language, with his looks.

You were on the corner, drinking a beer, you didn’t quite talk to anyone. You were just Benny’s girl, always right besides him. There was a guy who kept trying to flirt, Benny was looking carefully, everyone knew that what was Benny’s, was Benny’s only. But when the guy whispered something in your ear, Benny flipped. You didn’t even know how both Benny and some random guy ended up outside the bar. It was a mess. And with the help of Johnny, you stopped the fight. But instead of thanking you, Benny grabbed your wrist tightly and pulled you towards his bike. Making you groan.

“We’re going back to the fucking house.” Benny grumbled under his breath.

“We don’t have to. Benny. You won the fight anyways—“ Benny didn’t talk, but he abruptly stopped, turned around and grabbed a handful of your hair, his other hand gripping your jaw.

You knew. You knew he showed his love through shades of black and blue, when he wanted you to listen.

“Listen to me. You are going to get on the bike, and we’re going back to the fucking house. Alright?” Benny said, his grip was painful. Like you were a lifeless doll. He let go of you harshly, making you stumble. He got on the bike without a care in the world and started it. You bit your lip to not cry as you got on it, your hands around his waist.

You cried, he hurt you, you cried every time he hurt you, you tried to get used to his ways of love. Didn’t mean you liked it.

“Don’t go weepin’, acting like the goddamn victim.” Benny scoffed, his jaw clenching.

He wasn’t gentle at all when you got home, fidgeting with the keys, yanking your wrist to pull you inside the house and slamming the door shut. And he shoved you towards the wall.

“Baby was acting like a slut all night.” He said aggressively.

“I wasn’t, Benny. He came up to me…” You defended yourself. Trying to out weight his voice.

“You liked it, right? Having him all over you?” Benny never spoke, when he did, it hurt. “Are you stupid? Too fucking brain dead to understand what Benny’s Property means? Have I fucked you dumb to the point you’re this brainless slut? Huh?”

He didn’t even let you answer, he just attacked your lips, there wasn’t any warmth, just pure lust. But you didn’t mind, at least you wanted to believe that. His hands were rough, but you liked that, maybe it was the fact that your life was a mess, that this was the only thing that was consistent: his violence.

He grabbed a handful of your hair again, tugging softly but demanding.

“You smiled at him. You smiled.” He guided you towards the bedroom.

“No. Benny! I didn’t even speak to him.” You defended yourself again.

“You did, right, baby?” Benny said through gritted teeth. You just gulped, nodding.

When Benny didn’t want to be sweet— he wasn’t sweet. Especially when he was mad and alcohol was on his system.

He pushed you onto the bed, on all fours, a part of you was attracted to all of this, it was all you knew. And it got you wet, even if you were completely ashamed to admit it.

“You’re gonna make it up to me. Wanna act like a slut? Alright.” Benny said, you could hear the urgency and jealousy in his voice, as he fidgeted with his jacket, he kicked off his boots.

You flinched when he grabbed your hips, pulling down your trousers.

“You try to play victim, while you’re this wet?” He murmured, he had a smug smile on his face, he knelt behind you, his chest pressed against your back as his breath tickled your ear.

His hand went in between your legs, touching you through your soaked panties, you whimpered softly.

“So needy. You think another man will get you going like this?” Benny purred in your ear. “Pathetic.”

His hand slid onto your panties, fingers pressed against your throbbing heat. He starting caressing, slowly, making you go breathless. Soon enough, two of his fingers were inside of you, your panties pooled on your knees. He was finger-fucking you, good, you could imagine his smug smile as you moaned while gripping the sheets.

“You’re so fucking lucky I touch ya.” Benny said, his fingers making you squirm under him, feeling yourself reaching the edge. He could hear you, the way your moans quickened, they was you tensed up.

“B-Benny!” You said his name, as if to warn him you were so close. But his rhythm dropped, his movements were ragged, almost as if he was punishing you. You thought you were close and then he would stop. It made you whine, and he laughed

“No, baby. We’re gonna fuck how I say we fuck.” Benny said.

You gulped, looking over your shoulder to see him still have that smile on his face. The smile you fell for. And then he slammed right into you, not even giving you time to breathe, didn’t even give you time to get used to him before he started thrusting.

He sounded like an animal, relentlessly moaning, but you weren’t a saint either, a part of you enjoyed this, the feeling of being possessed, because it meant he cared for you, right? While you laid on his sheets, undressed.

“I do love you. But you make it…” Benny thrusted deeply into you, making you arch your back even more. “So fucking hard to show it.”

Benny grabbed a handful of your hair, yanking it roughly. ���If you weren’t so difficult, we’d be havin’ a blast, baby.” He said through gritted teeth.

Benny thrusted deep into you countless times, he was rough, as if he wanted to break you once again, and he managed. Your mascara ended up smeared all over the sheets from crying, your lips ended all over your face, and your hair? It looked like a birds nest.

“Pretty baby’s all wrecked.” Benny said as he finished inside of you. Falling on top of you. Breathing on your neck, hot breath.

You got a call by Johnny, he’d gotten into another fight because he couldn’t have the decency or survival mode to take off his colors. You were worried, his leg was basically broken, gotten into surgery.

You were worried, it really did take a toll on you. Taking care of him. Money was paper thin because Benny never worked and what you made at the diner was never enough.

As you changed the bandages of his knuckles, the phone rang and rang, you didn’t pick up and Benny was getting annoyed, he yanked his arm away.

“Pick up the goddamn telephone.” He said dismissively, you knew it was pissing him off. You came back quickly, holding the rotary telephone on your lap.

“Daddy…” you answered after hearing the man’s deep voice. “Sorry, I know it’s been a long time.” You sighed, you knew your father wondered about you, you barely called now. “We’re fine, he just got into a fight, nothing more than bleeding knuckles.” You didn’t want him to worry. “Yes, I am alright. No, don’t worry. I’ll call you again when I get the chance. Love ya. Bye.”

You looked up, Benny was smirking as he smoked a cigarette. “Daddy’s still calling?” Benny asked mockingly.

“He just wanted to know if what he saw on the damn papers was true.” You snapped at him. Immediately regretting it.

“Don’t be gettin’ smart with me, baby.” Benny glared at you.

“I’m tired, Benny. Tired.” You whispered. Benny scoffed, incredulous and annoyed.

“Tired. You’re tired?” Benny shook his head and took a long drag from his cigarette. “You knew what you were getting into. Nobody forced ya.”

You sighed. Rubbing your face. “Benny, do you always have to get in trouble? You go chasin’ it.”

“I never chase, baby. It finds me.” Benny said proudly.

“I don’t want to keep doing this. I don’t want you to keep doing that. I want you to quit riding and quit the club. It’s only brought me problems.” You said with your eyes closed shut. Like a child giving their parents a ridiculous ultimatum.

“When this heals up, I’ll leave.” Benny said, sure of himself, he said it seriously. “I ain’t gonna put up with this shit anymore.”

“What?” You stuttered. He never said shit like this. Like ever.

“Ya heard me the first time, baby. I’ll leave. Better yet. You fuckin’ leave.”

“B-but, this is my house!” You protested, it literally was your childhood home.

“Well, I don’t see your fucking name on it. Does it say ‘Property of Y/N’ anywhere? You don’t even belong to yourself.” Benny scoffed again

“I don’t even want to see your fucking face now.”

You stared at Benny, not even in disbelief. Just, stared at him.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do mean every fucking word, believe me, Y/N. If ya don’t get out of my sight I’ll make sure to stand up and you don’t want that, do you?” He said, threateningly, pointing his cigarette at you.

Scared of what you knew what he could and would do, you nodded and didn’t even finish changing the bandage of his knuckles, you left the room and closed it with a soft click.

Once his leg ‘healed’, he left for three weeks. You cried, everyday. You loved him, deeply, very deeply. Wondering what he did, if he drank too much, if he was with other women. He put up these walls around him and you couldn’t go past them. At all. All you could think was that one day he’d die on the road, and you’d never know.

But he came back after three weeks. It was eerily quiet, you tried to act as if he didn’t disappear for almost a month.

But he did watch you, crying watching the tv, curled up on the couch.

“Why you cryin’, baby? Hm?” Benny asked, sitting right beside you, his arm wrapping your shoulders. Pulling you close.

All you could do was lie, as always. “Because I’m happy that you’re back, and all right.”

Benny smiled, his baby, always worrying too much for him. You leaned onto him, smelling his scent, Marlboro reds, sweat and grease, disgusting to some, but home to you.

“Please don’t leave again.” You muttered to him. Clinging onto him like a love-blind addict.

All you wanted now was to ride with him, on these western nights. The wind on your face, hugging his waist.

“I promise you, baby. I ain’t leaving no more, only if you behave.” He whispered onto your hair. His love was conditional.

He loved how much you needed him. How you depended too fucking much on him even though he was a leech.

He kissed your head softly, inhaling your scent.

“I know that one day, we’ll be okay.”

He hummed on your hair, but he didn’t even believe that himself.

[butlervibesonly]

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐚𝐝 | PART ONE | Hank Thompson | Austin Butler

Summary: You found yourself in absolutely shitty position. Dumped, broke and... homeless? You decide to waste that last cents on wine to maybe drown in it. Until Hank notices you. And he doesn't hesitate but help you.

Pairing: Hank Thompson x female reader

Warnings: cursing, alcohol, toxic ex relationship, mentions of ex boyfriend

Proofreader: my darling @eternal-love 💗💗

Note: HEY GUYS! First, I am incredibly sorry for being so inactive, I had to get offline for some personal reasons. Okay and now - let's say I know that the movie didn't come out yet and we don't know how Hank might be like, and this story is totally out for the canon! I just wanted to write this so badly after getting the idea, so it's bit made up! Enjoy!

How in the world could you end up like this? In the bar, sipping the wine, big bag full of your clothes beside you while thinking about everything that happened. You just got dumped today. Kicked out of the apartment you lived in with your, now, ex boyfriend Mark.

When you first met Mark, he was… different. Or at least you thought he was. He had that easy smile, always knew the right thing to say, made you feel like you were the only girl in the world. That’s probably what makes it hurt more — he knew how to be good. He just chose not to be.

The first few months were great, not going to lie. He’d bring you coffee without asking, remember the tiniest details about your day, hold your hand like he meant it. But then, somewhere along the way, everything changed. Or maybe he just stopped pretending.

You two started fighting. A lot. Over stupid things, big things, everything. He’d snap at you, talk down to you, twist your words until you couldn’t even remember what you were arguing about in the first place. You always felt like you were walking on eggshells — trying to keep the peace, trying not to set him off. He made you feel small. Like you were always the problem.

And still, you stayed. For a year. You kept hoping the version of him you fell for would come back. Spoiler: he didn’t. He got colder, meaner, and you got tired. And then you found out he was cheating. With Sandra. Of course. She was his assistant in his office.

So yeah, Mark wasn’t the guy you thought he was. He was the storm you kept hoping would clear, but all he ever did was leave you soaking and broken.

You sit there, swirling the last half-glass of wine like it holds the answers to your life. Of course the fuck it doesn’t. It just tastes like regret and too many nights wasted on someone who didn’t deserve you. The bar’s mostly empty, low lights humming softly, a few regulars hunched over their drinks like they’re trying to disappear.

You’re sort of trying to disappear too. Or at least not think about the fact that you’ve got nowhere to go tonight. No plan. No backup. Just a phone full of ignored texts from people you don’t want to explain things to and a heart that feels like it’s been wrung out and left to dry.

That’s when you feel someone watching you — not in a creepy way, but like they see something you’re not even sure you’re showing. You glance up and meet eyes with the bartender. Big guy, with shoulders that say he used to be someone important and eyes that say he’s seen more than he wants to. Hank, as you hear his colleague calling out his name. You’ve heard other people say it, too, something about him used to be on TV, maybe baseball or something?

Before Hank can even answer his colleagues question, he walks from behind the bar, approaching you. “You good?” he asks, voice rough like gravel but not unkind. You open your mouth to lie, but it gets stuck in your throat. So you just shrug.

“You look like you’ve been through some shit. You hungry?”

“I didn’t order food.”

“I didn’t say it’d cost you.”

You stare at him a second. Something about his voice, the no-bullshit tone, makes you soften just a little. You nod. “Yeah. I guess I could eat.” He gives a half-smile, more with his eyes than his mouth, and disappears into the back. You exhale, like maybe just for a second, the world isn't closing in on you.

He comes back ten minutes later with a plate that smells like real food, grilled cheese, thick fries, the kind of thing that feels like a hug when you haven’t had one in a while. He sets it down in front of you without a word and sits beside you.

You stare at the plate for a second before picking up a fry. It’s hot. Salty. Perfect. You didn’t realize how hungry you were until now. “Looks like you haven’t eaten all day,” Hank says, looking at you while taking a sip from his Corona bottle. His tone’s easy, like he’s not pushing.

You swallow and nod, unsure if you’re supposed to say more. You don't owe this man your life story. But something about the way he’s sitting there makes it feel like maybe it’s okay if you say just a little. Especially after he noticed that you’re definitely not okay.

“Got dumped,” you mutter. “Well… cheated on. Then dumped.” Hank nods slowly. Doesn’t flinch. “That’ll do it.” You sigh, nodding, knowing how naive it sounds. “Yeah, and now I’ve got nowhere to sleep. So… that’s fun.”

He looks at you. Really looks. His eyes aren’t pitying, just steady. “That guy throw you out?”

“Basically, yes.” you confirm. “We got into a fight and then he couldn’t stand me. Neither could I.” Hank leans against the seat, crossing his arms. “You got any friends you can call? Family?” You shake your head, taking another fry. “Not tonight. Not like this.”

Hank doesn’t answer right away. Just lets the silence settle between you like dust. Then, quietly, he says, “Look, it’s getting late. The bar is closing soon. My apartment’s just down the street. You can crash on the couch tonight, then we can figure everything else out in the morning, okay?”

Your eyes widen by the fact that gut you just met offers you this. “Oh, that’s really nice, but I don’t want to bother or anything.” you sigh, feeling guilt spreading in your mind. He’s a bit surprised by your reaction. Most people he knows would jump at the opportunity to save money.

“Not a bother. It beats some crappy hotel room — I’d be doing you a favor, believe me.” His eyes meet yours, trying to gauge what you’re thinking. He’s not typically the charitable type, but there’s something about your situation that’s sparked something in him.

You think about it… He seems to be nice and kind. But you barely know him, tho. But thinking about crappy hotel room and loss of money… “You would do that for me…?”

“No strings,” he adds. “Just don’t like the idea of you sleeping outside when I’ve got an empty couch and leftover blankets.” Your throat tightens a little, and for a second you forget how to breathe. You nod, barely. “Thanks,” you say.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Hank mutters, turning back to the register. He smiles, glad that you accepted his offer. He pays for you, for the food and for the wine you had. “Thank you,” you said again. “No problem. But consider it an IOU. You owe me lunch tomorrow.”

He says it almost playfully, but there’s an underlying seriousness. He’s not the kind of guy who normally offers up his couch to a total stranger, but there’s something about you that has him feeling chivalrous.

The bar smells like old beer and lemon cleaner when the lights finally go out. You help him stack a couple chairs, more out of instinct than energy, your body already aching from everything it’s carried today. He tosses you a jacket, his, probably, too big, but warm, and gestures toward the back exit.

“I live just up the block,” he says. “We’ll cut through the alley.” You nod, your breath puffing little clouds in the cold night air. The streets are quiet. Just the hum of a vending machine, a flickering streetlamp, the distant sound of some guy yelling at a cab that’s already gone. The world is still moving, somehow, even when yours has slowed to a crawl.

His apartment is up two flights of creaky stairs over a convenience store. The hallway smells like old wood and old halls, the walls scraped and half broken. He unlocks the door and steps aside, like he’s afraid his apartment will spook you.

“Definitely not like Plaza, but it’s clean. Better than some crappy motel.” he says, flipping on a light. He’s right. It’s small. Lived-in. A couch with one too many pillows, a bookshelf crammed with old paperbacks and dusty baseball trophies. A plant near the window that’s somehow still alive.

The furniture doesn’t match, definitely evidence of being thrifted. You don’t know what you expected. Something messier, maybe. Something sadder. But this feels… fine enough.

He points to the couch. “You can crash there. Bathroom’s down the hall. If you’re hungry later, there’s stuff in the fridge. Beer, leftover lasagna, possibly a yogurt, but I don’t promise it’s not expired or something.” You chuckle and then smile — really smile — for the first time in days. “Thanks, Hank.” He just shrugs, walks toward the kitchen. “You want tea? Or whiskey? Or both?”

“Whiskey,” you say, without missing a beat. He chuckles, pulls two glasses off the shelf, and hands you one. You sip. It burns, but in the right way. For a while, you both stay in a quiet that feels like permission. No pressure to talk. Just two people, tired in different ways, sharing a small space in the middle of the mess.

You lean back on the couch, let your eyes close for a second. “So you don’t have family or friends around?” Opening your eyes again, you look at him. You shake your head. “No… My family is from Massachusetts, Boston specifically. I came here to New York to chase my dreams but… damn I got into this situation.”

Hank leans forward, sitting in armchair by the couch. He looks interested and gives you free speech. “I got together with Mark, my ex boyfriend, the one who dumped me today. He was everything I ever wanted, what I needed. My big dream was and is to open a flower shop, and I worked so hard to earn money for buying a building where I could make this all happen… And now? He took my money and kicked me out. Just because he got mad at me that I found out he was cheating on me.”

Hank’s eyes widen. You stare straight ahead, at some fixed point on the wall. You don’t want to see Hank’s face right now. You’re scared of what might be there, judgment, pity, or worse, disbelief. But all you hear is the soft thunk of his glass landing on the coffee table.

“Jesus,” he mutters. Not loud. Not shocked. Just tired, like someone who’s seen this kind of cruelty before and never got used to it. “He stole from you?” You nod. “Every cent I’d saved. Said it was ‘ours,’ and that I was crazy for wanting it back. Then he said if I pushed it, he’d make sure I never saw a dollar of it again.”

You wait for him to react. You expect questions, anger, maybe some righteous indignation on your behalf. But what you get is something quieter.“People like that don’t build anything,” Hank says. “They just take. And take. Until there’s nothing left.”

You finally look at him. His face is calm, but there's a steel edge in his voice now. “You worked for that dream,” he adds. “That money, that shop? That wasn’t him. That was you. Don’t let his theft make you forget that.”

You exhale, shakier than you mean to. “I don’t know how to start over, Hank. I feel like I’m back at zero.” He leans back, studies you. “Then zero’s where we start.” You blink. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” he begins slowly, “if you still want that flower shop, we’ll figure it out. I’ll help you. Loan, investment, whatever you want to call it.”

You shake your head immediately. He is a stranger who you just met and started to trust him with letting you sleep in his apartment. “Hank, no, I can’t let you—”

“Sure you can. You’re just scared. Doesn’t mean you’re not allowed.”

You go quiet. The idea feels too big, too unreal. But somehow, sitting on this worn-out couch in a stranger’s apartment with whiskey in your hand and last night’s mascara under your eyes… it feels so… odd.

“Hank, no. You can’t just throw money at me. I’m not some charity case. I didn’t tell you that story so you’d feel bad. I just needed to say it out loud.” you reply, feeling guilt in your heart. Hanks shakes his head, setting the whiskey glass in the table again. “I know you’re not charity case. I’m not telling ya you are. But you have dream. And you worked for it and are left with nothing to make it happen.”

You feel blood boiling in your cheeks and you know he’s right. “What if I take it and fail? Then what? I’ll owe you and have nothing to show for it.” you say, voice shaky. You can’t take his money. You can’t just borrow money from someone you met just tonight. “Why are you even doing this? You barely know me.”

“You’re right—I don’t know you. But I know what it’s like to lose everything you worked for. And I know what it’s like when no one helps.” Hanks says and makes you feel… soft all of sudden. He really looks like he wants to help you. To make your dream happen… Should you take it? Should you just trust some man who decided to take you to his apartment just to survive a night?

You take a deep breath, thinking about his words all over again and again. Then you straighten your position. “Okay. But if I say yes, you have to let me pay you back. Every cent.” Hank’s face lightens up in the way you haven’t seen yet. He looks almost happy that you agreed.

“Then it’s a deal.” he smiles, leaning back in the armchair. You look at him for a while, seeing the seriousness in his gaze. Then, you look back at the glass of whiskey, only last drops left. You lean your head back, the burning liquid falling down tour throat. Maybe things aren’t that bad as you thought.

“Mind if I take a shower here?” you ask, feeling like the grossest person on earth. Hank nods and go somewhere before coming back. The moment, Hank points down the hall and says, “Bathroom’s on the right,” you nod and make your way there. You’re already halfway there, clutching a borrowed towel and a baggy old t-shirt he handed you without a word.

You don’t look back, because your throat feels tight again, over something as simple as clean clothes and hot water. Something you shouldn’t have had to earn with pain. The shower creaks when you turn the knob, and it takes a second for the water to warm. But when it does, it’s heaven. For the first time today, the tension in your shoulders loosens. You lean into the tile wall, eyes closed, letting the water run over you like it’s washing the day off. Like it might erase Mark’s voice, his lies, his hands. Like maybe it can soak into your bones and remind you that you're still yours. You stay under longer than you mean to.

Out in the living room, Hank’s still on the couch, staring at the TV without really watching. Some old baseball game plays on mute, one of the ones from his heyday, maybe, though he doesn’t tell anyone which years were his. Not anymore. He hears the water shut off and glances toward the hallway.

He barely knows you. And yet, something about you pulls at him in a way he can’t name. Maybe it’s the passion in your voice when you talk about that flower shop. Maybe it’s the way he found you sitting in the bar, looking like you didn’t want to be seen needing help, but you still accepted it. That kind of vulnerability doesn’t come easy.

Hank’s been around people long enough to know the difference between a mess and a survivor. You’re not some wounded thing waiting to be rescued. You’re fire under ashes. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, offering you help, space, money. It’s not like him. But it doesn’t feel like a mistake either.

The bathroom door opens, steam curling into the hallway, and you step out, hair wet in messy bun, face clean, dressed in the oversized shirt that falls nearly to your knees. Hank stares at you, watching the way your hips swing under the baggy t-shirt as you walk. You catch him watching and pause.

“What?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. He shrugs and looks away, smirking a little. “Just making sure you didn’t drown.” You laugh quietly, but it’s a real laugh that surprises both of you. You approach the couch, looking at him. “Thanks again,” you say, sitting carefully on the edge of the couch. “For the shower. The couch. All of it.”

He gives a small nod. “Don’t mention it.” You glance around the room. It’s late, and you’re still in a stranger’s home, technically. But weirdly, for the first time in days, maybe weeks… you feel safe. “You ever think about what your life would’ve looked like if one thing had gone different?” you ask quietly.

Hank doesn’t answer right away. He watches the screen a moment longer before saying, “Yeah. Every fucking day.” And the silence that follows isn’t heavy — it’s shared. You sigh deeply, sinking into the couch. Maybe this isn’t the end. Maybe, just maybe, this might be something… new. New beginning.