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blainesebastian · 2 years

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what to expect (when you’re expecting) (ccg universe)

words: 3,520 ship: austin butler x reader summary: (a very lovely anon request): actual pregnancy in the CCG universe notes: thank you so much for reaching out about CCG! it means a lot to hear people are still loving it :) kinda crazy that was my intro to the fandom haha hope you enjoy! warnings: none tag list: @killerqueenfan, @karamelcoveredolicity, @elizabethrosecresswell, @gigisworldsstuff, @stylesmendeshearted, @abloversblog

When you became pregnant, you promised yourself that you were never going to become one of those women that just sat around and waited, becoming a couch potato or prepping the nest or whatever it’s called to just hang out in the apartment all day. There’s nothing wrong with that, of course, it’s just not who you are. While you enjoy a good home day like the next person, you’ve always been pretty active—especially when it’s come to your job. Opportunities don’t just stumble upon people, you’ve learned that, so being pregnant is not going to stop you from living out goals you’ve made for yourself. Maybe that sounds harsh to some people but there’s nothing that says women can’t have it all—a family, a career, a doting relationship. There’s no reason you have to choose.

Austin’s been very supportive in that sense, since day one, since your relationship began to form on the set of Elvis. It’s been a few years now, which is kinda hard to imagine, but that bond of love and unwavering support hasn’t changed. If anything, it’s grown and adapted. You know how lucky you are every day that you have a boyfriend who encourages you and your career in every way as he nurtures his own, but things definitely begin to slow down during your second trimester. You suppose that’s not bad, one of the great things about being a script writer is that you don’t have to be on set of a film every single day (you just want to be).

You trust the people you work with, you’ve had the pleasure of developing a film with them in the past and they’re always open with communication and keeping you in the loop. It’s just…by missing days? You feel like something is slipping through your fingers, even though you know that doesn’t quite make sense. It’s a difficult balance you’re still struggling with—becoming a mother and having a career.

But you’re determined to do both.

Sighing softly in the early hours of the morning, you run your fingers through Austin’s hair, playing with a few gentle curls near his forehead. This has become quite the routine since you became pregnant, waking up together, slow moving, Austin shifting in bed until he’s pressed against you—head sometimes directly on your stomach. You smile a little, tracing a circle along his hairline with your thumb.

“She’s as big as a grapefruit today.”

Austin hums, tipping his head just slightly so that he can see your face, “She’s a girl today?”

You smile, shrugging your one shoulder, “Feels like a girl to me most days.”

“I don’t think I can take two of you troublemakers, bein’ outnumbered and all that.”

There’s an amused eyeroll before you gently tug on some of his hair, “Girls are supposed to be troublemakers.”

Austin chuckles lightly, pressing a kiss to your stomach before sitting up. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He moves to sit on the bed, drawing back one of the curtains behind the nightstand to let a bit more light in. Your eyes dance over his face, how easily handsome he is, even upon first waking up…which shouldn’t be fair at all.

He looks back over at you, a soft smile on his face as one of his hands moves to push your hair behind your shoulder. You know what he’s going to say before it even comes out of his mouth, “I gotta get goin’.”

While Austin doesn’t have a current film that he’s working on, he’s been having weekly meetings with his agent, planning out something bigger down the pipeline. You’re ninety percent sure it’s some sort of TV series but he’s keeping it pretty under wraps, even from you, until some things are set in place. You don’t mind the suspense, you’ve always been a big fan of surprises. You just hope it’s…nothing too hectic with a baby on the way.

You know Austin, trust him to make decisions that not only account for his own future but also take you into consideration as well and the life you’re building together. He’s not going to be taking trips that put him in other countries for months at a time. It’s not going to be easy, mapping out how it all works—a family, a baby, two blooming careers. But that’s the point, right? To figure it out together?

He cups the side of your head and leans forward to press a series of kisses to your face—your forehead, the bridge of your nose and finally your lips. “Take it easy today, alright?”

You huff out a bit dramatically but nod, watching as Austin’s other hand slides over the small swell of your belly. As he stands from the bed, you watch him wander over towards the bathroom to take a shower. Yawning, you run a hand over your face and turn to gather some pillows closer to you, pressing your face into the one that smells like Austin’s cologne and fall back asleep.

A buzzing noise wakes you up and as you turn, disoriented, you bring your hand down on your nightstand to make it stop. It’s then you realize it’s your phone—squinting at the screen, it’s Ronald, a guy you worked with on your last film that transferred to your new one. He’s really nice, thoughtful, tends to lights and sound on set (Austin insists the guy has a crush on you, but that feels a little silly). Regardless, you let the ringing go to voicemail.

He doesn’t leave a message but he does send a few texts shortly after,

Ronald: you wanted me to tell you if and when there was drama on set? Ronald: think Marissa is close to quitting

A soft groan leaves your lips, running a hand over your face. You don’t even need to text back to know what Ronald is talking about. You knew it was going to be an issue to hire exes as the leads in your movie but your casting director assured you there wouldn’t be any problems and that their chemistry on screen was worthwhile when it came to drama.

Doesn’t seem like it’s paying off. At all.

Despite not wanting to go anywhere today, you pull on a yellow sundress that’s easy to move in and drive to set. You’re hoping you can offer a little assistance to the producer and director, who don’t exactly have the most comforting way of speaking to people. They’re wonderful and patient when it comes to the craft of movie making but…this needs to be handled with a little more finesse. Sometimes the drama of actors is more than something other people are willing to put up with.

You’ve learned that you get a hell of a lot more with honey than you do vinegar.

Pulling into the lot and using your badge to bypass security, you park your car and slowly pull yourself out. You skipped breakfast, which you already know is a bad look but…you figure you can grab something from the food tent before heading back home. Or maybe even visit the bistro down the street from your apartment to get one of those extra-large cinnamon rolls you love. Checking your phone, your thumb hovers over the text message thread with Austin…debating whether you should just send a quick text to check in.

You already know he’s not going to be thrilled that you’ve made your way to set when he’s told you to take it easy but…this is totally going to be a quick visit, here and back, just a few words of confidence and comfort to your actors and then heading back home. Not worth the worry and aggravation of letting him know you’re even out of bed.

You’re not about to make statements about how you’re saving the film, either, even though you spend about a half n hour talking down your female lead so she doesn’t abandon the project altogether. There’s drama between her and her ex (meaning there’s tension…in your opinion sexual tension, but) and she just needed someone to hear her out. To understand what she’s going through.

She’s grateful for the venting session and you talk to your male lead as well to hopefully get everything on the same page. Everyone could do with a dosage of taking a deep breath so that not each conversation is reactionary and listening.

Crisis averted, right?

Moving towards the food tent, you pause by the coffee cart and smile a little as past experiences and memories come flushing back—sometimes it’s hard to believe that’s how the bulk of your career actually started. You wonder if you’d be in the same place you are today if you hadn’t managed a coffee cart on the set of Elvis…you suppose a lot of things happen for a reason.

Feeling slightly dizzy, you reach for a cup to fill up with water, turning when you see Ronald approach to your right. He gives you a small smile,

“Pretty sure that would have gone nuclear without you.”

A soft laugh leaves your lips, “You’re just lying so I still feel like I have a spot on this set,” You shake your head, knowing deep down that no one can take that away from you given that you’ve written the script but… You have to admit you feel a bit disconnected given the space you’ve taken with your pregnancy.

“Well, you look great.” He adds, sticking his hands in his pockets.

“Now I know you’re lying,” You smile, running a hand through your hair.

While you appreciate the sentiment, you’re definitely not feeling your best. That wave of dizziness isn’t dissipating like you’d hoped and when you reach for one of the chocolate chip muffins that are on the table next to the coffee cart, you nearly stumble from leaning forward too far.

“Whoa,” Ronald says quickly, reaching out to steady you. “You alright?”

You’re about to wave off his concern and assure him that you’re fine, just the spins or something from moving too fast? Or maybe that whole skipping breakfast thing. But then you realize how wobbly your legs feel and there’s a cold sweat on the back of your neck—something doesn’t feel right.

“I don’t know.” You mumble and Ronald grabs a chair for you to sit in before you can fall down.

It doesn’t stop you from dropping your cup, however, as your vision swarms black.

There’s a soft series of beeping that you hear before you even open your eyes, your forehead crinkling in confusion because it sounds nothing like the alarm you have on your phone. Lifting your hand to your face, a wild headache appears, throbbing along your temples when you manage to pry your eyes open.

You’re disoriented, attempting to figure out what’s going on, where you are, why everything feels so foggy and sluggish.

“There you are.”

Frowning, you move your hand and your vision focuses on…Ronald and the background opens up to inform you that you’re in the hospital. Your stomach dips—oh no. Everything comes rushing back, being on set and feeling dizzy and faint.

“Please don’t tell me an ambulance came to get me.” Your voice cracks, throat dry.

Ronald winces, “Uh…alright, I won’t tell you.”

A groan, your head tipping back against the pillows. Great—sure that was amazing for the film set. Odds are it’s going to be plastered all over the internet and social media thanks to paps who like to hang around the perimeter for any breadcrumbs of things to report. Bringing your hand up to your head again, your massage your temples and realize you’re hooked up to a few monitors, an IV.

Then, suddenly— “Austin.” You state, like it might be the most important thought you can state. You have no idea what’s going on or…if you’re okay and the baby—your heartrate skyrockets on the monitor, the beeping becoming more insistent.

“It’s okay,” Ronald tries to comfort, but that’s not what you need right now. You want Austin. “The hospital called him, he should be here soon. I didn’t want to leave you with no one.”

And you appreciate that? But it does nothing to quell your overpowering nerves. Tipping your head back, you attempt to breathe slowly, you know that being worried isn’t going to help anything right now—for you or your baby. Your gaze draws towards the door to the room opening, Austin coming in looking more frazzled than you were aware he was capable of. He always approaches things with such confidence, a cool demeanor, a willingness to problem solve…he’s definitely overwhelmed, worried. You feel instantly guilty for causing it.

“Hey,” He says quickly, eyes darting over to Ronald and causing a momentary pause because he didn’t know he was in here.

“I uh,” Ronald stutters over his words, standing from the chair he was sitting on, “I didn’t want her to be alone.”

There’s this muscle working in Austin’s jaw and before he can say anything, you interrupt, “I went to set to prevent a crisis.” Your hand reaching for his when he comes over to the side of the bed.

He gives you a once over, squeezing your hand, “What happened?” Ronald begins to fill in the blanks before you can answer the question and Austin definitely doesn’t like that, “I’m talkin’ to my girlfriend.”

You wince, your other hand traveling over your stomach, “Austin,” You chide gently and to Ronald’s credit, he doesn’t appear to be insulted—your boyfriend is clearly rattled. “I just—I got dizzy, fainted I think. Ronald helped get me here.”

Austin takes in a breath, mostly through his nose, seemingly trying to calm himself down so he doesn’t snap at Ronald anymore. You can understand how worried he is, to get that call in the middle of lunch with his agent, to rush all the way here with no information about what’s going on or how you were.

“Thanks for lookin’ out for her.”

Ronald gives a small smile before nodding, offering a small wave in your direction before he makes his way towards the door, “Don’t even sweat it. I’ll see you.”

As Ronald leaves, your OBGYN, Rachelle, makes her way in. She doesn’t look overly concerned, giving a small smile in your and Austin’s direction as she writes some things down on her patient chart. So…that’s not terrible, right? That’s a good sign?

“Okay, how we feelin’ Y/N?”

Straightening up in bed, the only question on your mind flies from your lips, “Is the baby okay?”

Rachelle draws her hand up and down, signaling for you to take a deep breath, which…you kinda do, it’s difficult. “Your baby’s fine.” She smiles a bit, her eyes passing between Austin and you. “I’m more concerned about you right now.”

Austin seems to visibly relax, moving his hand that was holding yours to stretch across your shoulders, rubbing gently as he goes. It definitely helps with tension in your muscles—you’re really doing your best to try and relax. While today definitely wasn’t ideal? The point is that your baby is fine and you’re fine too, despite the slight dizziness and now nausea that are lingering.

You refocus yourself, moving back to Rachelle’s original question, “I’m alright, I think. I’m…feeling a little off.”

She hums, moving closer to the bed to hook the chart on the end of it. “That’ll happen with low blood sugar.”

A soft blush kisses your cheeks out of embarrassment than anything else—you got so wrapped up in heading to the set that you didn’t eat and…turns out it was too late to reverse it once you tried. You gotta remember that you’ve got more than just yourself to worry about now.

“I can appreciate that both of you have busy schedules, but Y/N, you gotta make sure you’re taking care of yourself. You’re into your second trimester and it’s only going to get busier from here. I know you’ve cut back on work but you also have to remember that stress is not your friend.”

You nod softly, glancing down at the bedsheets to play with the fabric between your fingers. You know that she’s not chastising you and that today was probably a bit out of the ordinary when it comes to stress, but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re here. You’ve done more than enough reading on how stress is bad not only for you—in making pregnancy symptoms worse, but also for the baby, extreme conditions ending in things like premature labor.

You shake those thoughts right out of your head.

“We’re gonna keep you for a few more hours, just on a monitor but then send you on home, okay?” She clasps her hands together, “With this additional ultrasound we took when you first got here, we also know the sex of your baby.” She smiles, “Did you want to know or be surprised? I can go get the envelope.”

You glance up at Austin, who gives you a small smile. He then nods, “I think I’d like to know before the reveal party that Ashley is undoubtedly going to insist she host.”

You laugh a little and nod, Rachelle smirking before she turns to head out the door and grab the envelope that’s probably in your patient file. Running a hand over your face, you pinch the bridge of your nose and feel Austin sit down on the bed next to you, the silence of the room settling over your shoulders. This is the last place you thought you’d be ending up in today when you woke up this morning.

There’s guilt, of course, but also like…this weird bout of shame that licks at raw nerve endings, like you should have known better than to go to set in the first place. You try to rationalize with yourself, the perfect storm of not eating breakfast mixed with stress but at the same time—

“I’m sorry,” You say suddenly, pulling your hands away from your face. Emotion sits heavily in your throat, hard to swallow over.

“Shh,” Austin shakes his head, “Hey, it’s okay.” He inches closer on the bed, smoothing his hand through your hair and resting his palm on your shoulder. “You’re okay.”

You quickly wipe away the big, fat tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. Your emotions are kicking into high-gear given hormones and the way this day has gone when it started out so perfectly. Sniffling, you let out a soft, aggravated sigh as Austin cups your cheek and wipes some tears away,

“I never meant to worry you like that, I’m sure it was—” You shake your head.

Austin nods slowly, chewing on his lower lip, “You definitely had me worried but…you and the baby are fine, that’s all that matters.” He tips your chin with his thumb, making sure your gaze meets his. “Okay?”

You nod softly, closing your eyes as he leans forward to plant a long kiss to your forehead. You want to say a handful of other things about how he doesn’t have to stay here once the envelope comes back, that you can hang out and probably eat horrible hospital food as you sit on the monitor for a few hours. That he can try to salvage more of his lunch date with his agent. But you already know the answer, can even hear it in Austin’s voice—he’s not gonna go anywhere.

When Rachelle comes in with the envelope, you can’t help but take a nervous breath in even though there’s nothing to be anxious about. No matter what you’re having? You’re going to be happy, grateful, excited, terrified, everything in-between. She hands you the paper and you squeeze it between your fingers as you look over at Austin, wanting to somehow open it yourself and have him read it first all at the same time.

Pulling the envelope flap aside, you quickly pull the paper out and close your eyes, almost like you might lose your nerve otherwise. One, two, three—and then it’s over.

A laugh leaves your lips and you can’t stop the smile from pulling on your lips, “A girl,” You show him the paper, “We’re having a girl.”

And Austin looks touched, his eyes a little brighter blue than they were before, licking his lips and nodding before a warm laugh empties from his chest. “A girl,” He repeats before wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close.

Grinning, you press your face into his shoulder and neck, squeezing onto him so tight—like a lifeline. You breathe him in, stomach fluttering, fingers gathering up the fabric of his shirt to ground yourself in this moment. You don’t think you’ve ever been so happy in your life.

“Knew I was gonna have a set of troublemakers on my hands.” Austin teases as he cups your face, leaning down to kiss you.

You giggle a little against his lips but you’re not about to disagree with that.

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler imagine #austin butler drabble #austin butler fic #elvis 2022 #mccall writes things #ccg

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foreverdolly · 2 years

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love bug | austin butler x injured!reader

this is a yet another lil blurb for my "three days of blurbs" event.

request: where austin accidentally hits reader and him being super sorry and helping?

requested by: @abloversblog hope you enjoy it !

word count: 924

warnings/notes: just adorable fluff- what an incredible idea! i set this in the same "universe" as your last request to make it extra special for you. austin would be oh-so sorry if something like this happened. he'd be eaten up with guilt. he apologized a thousand times throughout the night as well. to the point that it got incredibly annoying.

Austin’s love language was touch. Any second of the day where his hands weren’t on you was a second wasted in his book. The two of you thought that it was fun to “play-wrestle”. Realistically, Austin was strong enough to hold you down until you tired yourself out. He always let you win though, which was part of the fun. The two of you had been rough housing all day, teasing one another just for the chance to grab at one another’s warm bodies. It was often a form of foreplay. His big strong body straddling yours, his arms pinning your hands up above your head. He had been batting you around like a cat with a mouse all day.

Physically, Austin could probably bench you, but he never got too rough with you. Not once. The only time Austin had ever really hurt you was when he had gone in for a kiss too eagerly and his front teeth had painfully knocked against your own. It had been towards the beginning of the relationship, which made it even more mortifying for him when he realized that your top lip was bleeding.

It was like every single second of dating experience had flown right out the window when he had met you. You made him unrealistically giddy and nervous, which further solidified the fact that he was positive that you were the one. You had reduced the thirty year old man to a bumbling, blushing idiot. Austin was ridiculously soft for you, and would rather shoot himself in the foot than ever hurt you.

The mere thought of you in any sort of pain nearly had him falling to his knees. He took his role of “protector” extremely seriously where you were concerned. He was always so careful with you- which is why your sudden cries of pain had him jumping off of you so quickly that his back knocked against the coffee table so hard that it toppled over. The decorative art books that the two of you had used to spruce up your home clattered to the ground. Austin tried to reach for the vase of your “get well soon” flowers before it was too late, but the smooth glass slipped right through his sweaty palms, shattering against the wood floor.

“W-what did I do, baby? Where do you hurt?” The expensive decorations were forgotten the moment that he remembered that you were in pain. He was quick to scramble onto his hands and knees, moving towards you so that he could get a better look. You were still laying on the couch right where he had left you, only this time you were clutching at your ankle, eyes screwed shut in pain. His blue eyes widened in fear, his golden features paling as he realized what must have happened.

“Y-Your knee hit my bad ankle.” The ankle that you had broken not even three weeks ago on the red carpet.

“Oh my god. . . Do you think I might have shifted the bone somehow? Should I take you back to the hospital? Hold on, I’ll get my things.” He scrambled to his feet, nearly slipping and falling on the polished hardwood floors in his socks.

You were quick to call out to him, but he was too panicked to really hear you. He slipped off his plaid pajama pants, quickly putting on a pair of jeans over his boxers. He covered up his messy, wavy locks with a baseball cap, quickly reaching for the keys to his car that he had put on the kitchen island.

“Aus, I don’t need to go back to the hospital. It’s still sore though, so when you knocked up against it. . . it took the wind out of me, that’s all.” He was overreacting. Big time.

“But what if I did some damage? Babe. . . what if I dislodged something. What if your ankle hurts all the time now, even after it’s healed? I’m such an idiot!” He knocked the palm of his hand against the side of his head. “Why did I think that it was a good idea to be rough with you when you’re all broken like this.” He motioned towards you on the couch before letting his hand fall limply. It slapped against his jean clad thigh loudly.

You wrinkled your nose in offense. “Broken? Hey-”

“Baby, you’re temporarily crippled. Our room is upstairs and I have to carry you up to bed every night like you’re Pollyanna.” He explained softly to you, pinching the bridge of his nose as he continued to worry himself sick.

You blushed in embarrassment, quickly covering your face with a pillow. “I’m fine. Cut all that out and come sit back down. I wanted to finish this movie.” You mumbled against the cushion.

Austin could barely understand what you were saying, but he shuffled over to you anyway.

“I’m sorry. I don’t even know what to say-”

When you moved the pillow off of your eyes you could see that he was looking down at you. His long fingers were gripping the edge of the couch hard, his blue eyes slightly watery with guilt.

“Can you just take those jeans off? I’m trying to cuddle.” He rolled his eyes at your nonchalance, throwing the keys back up on the kitchen island before moving over to the coffee table, grimacing at the mess that he had made.

“I’ll love on you in a second. . . broken glass got everywhere. I don’t want you stepping on glass with your good leg.”

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