toasterpancakes

[toasterpancakes]

Do you write stories with Elvis too or just Austin ?

Just Austin and I’ve been toying with the idea of writing for Feyd (though that is not everyones cup of tea).

Not Elvis for now because….I must admit that I have not gotten around to watching that (but I should).

[toasterpancakes]

drop an ask for austin butler x reader

[toasterpancakes]

Go get em’ tiger

Austin Butler Fanfiction

Austin Butler x you | Drabble

Summary: A snippet of domestic life with Austin before the Golden Globes.

“Come in,” you call out absently, your fingers giving no pause as they continue to fly across the keyboard in front of you. You’ve become so accustomed to the occasion knocks to the door of the room you call your home office that have peppered the last few hours of the day. It had started with Austin’s personal assistant coming in to ask if you had seen the spare keys to one of his cars, and followed with his publicist (“Do you want a coffee? We are ordering in”), a stylist (“I’m so sorry to ask you this but did you have any extra safety pins by any chance?”) and ending with his personal assistant again (“We’re grabbing dinner for everyone, do you want something?”) coming in to ask various questions.

You finish up the sentence you are currently working on as you hear the door creak open before it shuts with a soft click. You expect to hear a question thrown your direction, but the silence has you puzzled. You toggle your mouse to hit the save button - a habit which you’ve formed years ago after having lost a document too many after being bested by technology failing on you, and crane your neck to peer over one of the two screens which you have in front of you. A pair of blue eyes meet your gaze, and you find your lips splitting into a smile.

“Am I disturbing?” His voice cuts through the space between you. Austin doesn’t move from where he is leaning back casually against the door. You drop back down into your chair, legs shuffling slightly, wheeling the office chair slightly to your right so you have an unobstructed view of him.

“Most definitely,” you say without so much as a pause, and you see Austin’s lips quirk upwards into a half smirk.

“I see,” Austin hums patronisingly in response, playing along, as he pushes himself up, legs striding across the floor of your office with an easy gait, easily reducing the space between you. He perches himself in front of you, on the edge of your office desk, “well I’m sorry to be interrupting such important business.”

“Very important business,” you say with a nod which you follow with a tilt of head towards the computer screen.

“Nothing less,” Austin says as he eyes you from his perch, arms crossed loosely across his chest. You content yourself with letting your gaze drift from his face down the rest of his body taking note of his styled hair, face with barely there make up for the red carpet to cover blemishes. He still has on a loose flannel, the top three buttons undone, and dark sweat pants. Austin’s gaze follows your hand as you reach out to tug the end of his shirt lightly.

“Don’t you have to change soon?” You ask only for him to shrug.

“Yeah, probably,” he says unfazed as he reaches out to envelop your hand with his. Austin’s palm is warm, and slightly calloused. You follow the tugging motion coming from his palm and limber to a stand. Austin manages to manoeuvre you into the space between his legs. Your place your palms flat on his thighs as he weaves his arms in the gap between your arms and body, pulling you as close to him as the position would allow.

“Are you very sure you don’t want to come?” He asks, his fingertips finding themselves wandering beneath the back of your top to meet the skin of your lower back. He moves to lean his forehead against yours only for you to retract your head. It makes Austin frown, a brown lifting slightly in question.

“They’ll kill me if I mess up their work,” you say opting instead to bring a hand up to the nape of his neck, your thumb rubbing the space below his ear in a circular motion. Austin lets out an audible sigh, but he doesn’t say anything - because he knows better than to grumble. Austin knew the value of hard work and wasn’t one to mess up work that someone else had put themselves into. He settles instead for letting the weight of his neck sag into the palm of your hand while letting his eyes flutter shut.

“I wish you were coming with me,” he says, eyes still shut.

“Well you know, important business and all,” you joke. Truth to be told it wasn’t work which was keeping you from going as his plus one to the Golden Globes, but more because, as you had told him, this was all Austin, his time to shine - and you didn’t want to take away from it by having the media and audience overshadow him and his work with less savoury headlines.

You could see it now, an article titled “Austin Butler and girlfriend sighted at the Golden Globes - trouble in paradise?” - with a long, entirely false and made-up story about how you both were on the rocks all because you walked two steps behind him on the red carpet. You both were out as a couple, but liked your privacy and kept your relationship out of the public eye as much as possible; yet it only made the media vultures worse, spinning every little glance they could get into a sensational, elaborate rumour.

Austin sighs as he opens his eyes. He lifts the weight of his neck off from your hand, taking your palm in his, he skims the back of your knuckles with his lips - a move that wouldn’t mess up his hair or make up - before dropping both your hands in between your bodies.

“I’ll be home after.”

“You should go for the after-party,” you tell him as he rubs his thumb along the back of your hand, “you’ll have lots to celebrate.”

Your words make him huff out while shaking his head in true Austin fashion - always doubting himself, slow to believe he was as good as they said.

“I rather celebrate with you,” he says an undercurrent of doubt running through his voice, clearly not believing that there would be anything to celebrate.

“I’ll be here when you get back,” you promise to the blue eyes staring back at you, “with peanut butter and jelly,” you continue and you see the twinkle that lights up in his eyes. Peanut butter and jelly - unusual, you would think if you looked at Austin, but it was a comfort food of sorts, something that you knew reminded him of his Mom.

He opens his mouth to say something when a rap of knuckles against the door of your home office interrupts. Austin does groan outwardly this time, because work was work but he hated when work took him away from you.

“Yeah,” he calls out, knowing that they’re looking for him. The door creaks open and his publicist sticks her head in.

“They need you for outfit now,” she says, darting a glance at you both. Austin had his head turned so his side profile faces her, while also effectively shielding you from her view, as if he were trying to keep distinct his work and private life.

“I’ll be out in three,” he calls and she nods, stepping and shutting the door behind her.

“Go,” you say, offering him a smile.

“Say bye before I leave?” He asks, an almost child-like quality to the deep, raspy voice.

You nod in agreement and Austin brings the back of your hand up to his lips again. He keeps his gaze connected with yours as he presses a kiss into your knuckles.

“Go get ‘em tiger,” you say with a wink as he slides off the table.

“Yes m’am,” he offers you a lopsided grin, as he goes hands in pockets towards the door towards his first golden globe.

[toasterpancakes]

This has spawned as an Austin Butler / characters he has played side blog, because just look at that man, and also because not everyone can get behind actor x reader fanfiction. If you don’t like the content of this tumblr please click away.

Have a request? Just want to talk about Austin? Drop an ask.

A short disclaimer that while the object of infatuation of this tumblr is Austin Butler, any and all fan fiction / imagines / written work set out herein is entirely fantasy and a figment of my imagination and should not in anyway whatsoever be conflated with reality.