pairing: Austin Butler x Female Reader
warnings: emotional heartbreak, angst (with comfort), PR, miscommunication, crying, hurt, comfort, more heartbreaking than toxic
summary: In private, Austin feels like home. In public, the reader is invisible.
The house always smelled faintly like coffee and cedar after Austin stayed over.
It lingered in the blankets draped over the couch, in the sweatshirt he’d abandoned over one of the dining chairs three days ago, in the hallway where his boots sat kicked off unevenly beside the wall because he never put them away properly.
Somehow, without either of them meaning to, he had become part of the house.
“You seriously still can’t find it?”
You leaned against the kitchen counter with a smile tugging at your mouth while Austin stood barefoot in front of an open cabinet, squinting inside like the pasta strainer had personally offended him.
“I swear you move things around just to mess with me.”
“You’ve used my kitchen maybe six times.”
Austin looked over his shoulder immediately. “Okay, first of all? Rude. Second of all, I practically live here.”
Your stomach warmed embarrassingly at the words.
He said things like that casually sometimes. Softly. Naturally. Like he didn’t realize the effect they had on you.
He finally found the strainer with a victorious little, “Ha,” before turning toward the stove where you stirred the pasta sauce.
The house was quiet except for music humming low from your speaker and rain tapping softly against the windows outside.
Austin walked up behind you without a word.
You barely reacted when his arms slid around your waist.
It had become instinct now; leaning back into him, feeling his chest against your spine, his chin settling onto your shoulder while he swayed slightly with you in the middle of the kitchen.
His voice was rough with exhaustion.
He’d flown back into Los Angeles barely six hours ago after weeks of press and interviews, yet somehow the first place he came was here, to you.
You turned your head slightly, brushing your cheek against his temple.
“You’re falling asleep standing up.”
He only tightened his arms around your waist.
You stared down at the bubbling sauce while warmth spread painfully through your chest.
Somewhere between late-night movies and sleepy mornings and him memorizing which floorboard creaked outside your bedroom, you’d fallen in love with him.
And worse,
it felt terrifyingly possible that he’d fallen too.
Movie nights usually ended the same way: you watching the ending alone while Austin slept through the last thirty minutes.
This time was no different.
The television flickered softly across the dark living room while Austin lay sprawled across your couch, one arm around your waist where you sat tucked against him.
His head rested in your lap.
Halfway through the movie, he’d drifted off completely.
You smiled faintly, brushing your fingers through his hair.
His face looked softer asleep, younger somehow and not the polished version of him people photographed constantly, not the charming interview version or the actor everyone wanted pieces of.
Sleepy.
Warm.
Comfortable.
As if sensing you staring, his eyes cracked open slightly.
“You’re not watching the movie,” he mumbled.
“You’ve never seen this.”
You laughed quietly, and Austin’s eyes finally opened fully just to look at you, really looking at you.
That familiar softness settled over his face.
The kind that always made your heart ache a little.
But his hand slid over your knee gently.
Then:
“This house is my favorite place in the world.”
Austin closed his eyes again before he could see what those words did to you.
You weren’t naïve enough to think it was.
Being with someone like Austin meant existing in strange, hidden spaces: Private dinners.
Back entrances.
Late-night grocery runs.
Dodging cameras.
Pretending not to know each other sometimes.
At first, it almost felt exciting.
Like something precious only the two of you knew.
But over time, small fears started slipping in around the edges.
Because the world knew versions of Austin that didn’t belong to you.
You’d see headlines linking him to actresses after premieres or interviews and your stomach would twist even while your brain reminded you: That’s Hollywood.
That’s publicity.
That’s PR.
And every time you asked indirectly, Austin reassured you.
One night, laying tangled together in your bed while rain hit the roof softly overhead, you almost asked him: Then what are we? but the words never left your mouth because you were suddenly terrified of hearing something less than what you felt.
So instead, you stayed quiet.
And Austin kissed your forehead like he already knew.
The day everything broke started completely normally.
You were supposed to meet a friend for coffee downtown.
Austin had texted you that morning:
Busy day. Call you tonight ❤️
You stared at the heart longer than you should have before smiling despite yourself.
It was embarrassing how easily he affected you.
The sidewalks buzzed with people and noise as you walked down the street, adjusting your bag higher onto your shoulder.
Then you heard camera shutters.
Rapid.
Aggressive.
Familiar.
Your stomach tightened instantly.
You looked up automatically.
There was a crowd gathered outside one of the restaurants ahead.
At first you only noticed flashes.
Then a woman stepping outside laughing at something.
Beautiful.
Famous.
An actress you recognized immediately.
Your feet stopped moving before your brain caught up.
He wore a dark hoodie beneath a jacket you’d stolen from him once for nearly a week because it smelled like him.
A baseball cap sat low over his eyes.
His hands were shoved casually into his pockets while he leaned down slightly to hear whatever the actress was saying over the noise around them.
The sound hit you harder than it should have because you knew that laugh.
You knew the tiny crinkle near his eyes.
The relaxed slope of his shoulders.
The way he ducked his head when he was genuinely amused.
For one horrible moment, he looked comfortable with her.
Your chest tightened painfully.
No one around you knew that you existed to him.
To everyone watching, she fit beside him perfectly.
A beautiful actress.
A public pairing.
Something people understood.
You stood there too long.
Long enough for your thoughts to turn ugly.
Maybe this was always temporary.
Maybe you’d been stupid.
Maybe private didn’t mean special to him the way it did to you.
The actress moved closer while cameras flashed wildly around them.
Austin instinctively placed his hand against the small of her back, guiding her past photographers.
Your breath caught sharply.
That touch shattered you because it was yours.
Austin did that to you crossing streets.
Entering restaurants.
Moving through crowds.
Your lips parted slightly.
Your eyes burned instantly.
You tried telling yourself:
It’s PR.
You know how this works.
But another voice whispered louder:
He still agreed to it.
Everything in him changed immediately.
The relaxed ease vanished so fast it almost made your stomach turn.
Confusion flickered first.
Because he saw your face.
Saw the tears already gathering in your eyes.
For a second neither of you moved.
The city noise blurred around you.
You could actually see the moment guilt hit him.
You nodded once: Small, broken like you finally understood something you’d been trying not to.
Austin’s expression crumpled.
You stepped backward immediately.
“Austin,” the actress said quietly beside him, confused.
But he was already moving toward you.
You turned before he could fully reach you.
The walk away felt unreal.
You heard him calling your name behind you while paparazzi shouted questions loudly enough to make nausea roll through you.
Then fingers wrapped gently around your wrist.
Austin moved in front of you breathing hard, eyes frantic beneath his cap.
You looked at him finally, really looked at him and his face fell completely when tears slipped down your cheeks.
“You looked really good together,” you whispered.
Austin physically flinched.
You laughed softly then, except it sounded awful.
Small.
Wounded.
“Then you know this isn’t real.”
Your eyes searched his face desperately.
“But it looked real, too real.”
Because what could he say to that?
Camera flashes lit up around you again.
The humiliation hit all at once.
People were watching.
Photographing.
Speculating.
And none of them knew you mattered.
You pulled your wrist gently from his grasp.
“I can’t do this right now.”
Then you walked away while Austin stood frozen on the sidewalk watching you leave.
The house felt unbearable when you got home.
His sweatshirt still draped over the couch.
The mug he always used sitting beside the sink.
His favorite coffee creamer in your fridge.
A script tossed carelessly across the armchair.
You stared at it all with blurry vision.
This wasn’t just some casual thing anymore.
He’d become part of your space.
Your routines.
Your life.
Your chest ached so badly it felt difficult to breathe.
You finally broke in the kitchen.
Right there beside the stove where he always wrapped himself around you from behind.
A sob escaped before you could stop it.
You pressed your hand over your mouth, sliding slowly down the cabinet until you sat on the floor crying quietly into your palm.
Because somehow the worst part wasn’t even jealousy.
It was feeling hidden, replaceable like the world got a version of Austin you never would.
Austin showed up just after midnight.
You almost didn’t answer the door.
But when knocking turned softer,
hesitant,
you finally pulled it open.
He stood there in a gray hoodie and baseball cap, exhaustion written across every inch of him.
His eyes immediately found your face:
Red eyes.
Swollen cheeks.
The unmistakable evidence you’d been crying for hours.
You stepped aside silently.
The house suddenly felt strange with him inside again.
Like something fragile had cracked.
Austin pulled his cap off slowly, running a hand through his messy hair.
“I called you like twenty times.”
Then he started too fast.
“It’s PR, okay? The studio’s been pushing it for weeks and they wanted photos and appearances and...”
Austin stopped immediately.
Because that was the problem.
That’s why this hurt so much.
You looked away from him, arms wrapped tightly around yourself.
“I just…” your voice broke softly. “I didn’t think I’d ever have to see it.”
He stepped closer carefully like you might disappear.
The endearment nearly broke you all over again.
“You looked happy,” you whispered.
You laughed bitterly through tears. “That’s supposed to make me feel better?”
“No.” He stepped closer again desperately. “No, I’m explaining it badly, I just...”
You finally looked at him and the heartbreak in your face silenced him instantly.
“Do you know what it felt like standing there?” you asked softly. “Watching everyone photograph you with someone else while nobody even knows I exist to you?”
Austin stared at you helplessly.
You wiped angrily at tears slipping down your cheeks.
“I let myself fall in love with you anyway.”
The words hit him like a punch.
Austin’s expression shattered completely.
He crossed the room immediately.
His hands cupped your face gently.
“You think I don’t love you?”
Fresh tears spilled instantly.
“Then why am I the one hidden?”
Silence. Heavy. Painful silence.
Austin’s hands trembled slightly against your cheeks because he didn’t have an answer; not one good enough.
You shook your head slowly.
“I can’t keep loving someone quietly.”
Austin looked devastated.
Like you’d reached directly into his chest and ripped something open.
“You are not something I’m ashamed of,” he said immediately.
You saw it happen in real time.
Austin pulled you against him suddenly, arms tight around your body while you cried against his chest.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered roughly into your hair. “I’m so sorry.”
And for the first time since knowing him,
Not because Austin disappeared.
Showing up.
Calling.
Wanting to talk.
Wanting to fix it.
But something had shifted,
You still loved him.
That was the problem.
You loved him enough that pretending not to mattered now.
Then came another premiere.
Another event.
Another public appearance.
Austin had asked quietly three nights earlier while sitting across from you in your kitchen.
Something different lived in his eyes then,
The cameras were overwhelming.
Flashes exploded everywhere as the car door opened.
Your pulse hammered painfully.
Austin stepped out first.
The crowd immediately erupted louder.
You almost stayed inside the car.
Then Austin turned, and reached his hand toward you, openly and without hesitation.
The entire world seemed to pause.
Your eyes lifted to his instantly.
Austin’s expression softened the moment you placed your hand in his.
Warm fingers tightening around yours carefully.
The cameras went insane around you.
Instead he leaned down slightly, close enough for only you to hear.
“I’m done pretending you’re not the best part of my life.”
And standing there beneath flashing lights and shouting voices
for the first time, you didn’t feel hidden at all.
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