✨Various x Reader One-Shots✨

𝙵𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚛 | 𝙱𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝙱𝚊𝚝𝚜𝚘𝚗 | 𝙳𝙲

Billy tapped his foot, leaning against his locker. The one that had been marked and punched by the Burkes, and maybe his science teacher. But more importantly, he had a view of the entrance of the school, so that everyday he could watch Y/n walk in. He'd start a conversation and they'd walk to class together. He'd get to see her fangy smile she thought he didn't notice or the way her hair fluffed up everytime she saw him. He liked the effect he had on her, though he couldn't admit the one she had on him. It was much too strong, embarrassingly so. He'd blush like a little boy if she said the right thing, he'd disguise pillows with her memory at night, he pinned up photos of them in his room. Billy was in it deep, much too deep. He couldn't protect himself from her rejection, if she chose to do so.

Not that he'd ever tell her, she was too important to lose. That's when he spotted her oddly colored dyed hair in the crowd, backpack hanging off her shoulder. The one he had told her to replace, it looked like it was found in a museum from the 1900s. But as usual, the scanner went red. The same officer sighed, "Open please." He already knew what was in it. A stack of old books with metal casings. One's that he was sure were unreadable, but she had always looked so focused reading one- she had to know how to read those scribbles right? That then led him to wondering how she learned the language, and then a deeper rabbit hole on why she wanted to.

Besides the point, she always had one in her hand. And they looked just as old as her decaying backpack. He watched her roll her eyes at the officer before being handed her bag back. "Hoarding more guns? You have the safety on right?" "Yeah let me get it out-" She reached into her bag, he pins up his hands. The other kids in the hall froze for a minute, "No- we weren't-" Billy blurted, "Books are just as dangerous, I mean the metal in this is denser than a shotgun's bullets." Her comment only left more stares and whispers.

Of course she could hear every one, not that he knew that. 'Freak', or the now more popular 'Frankenstein.' Y/n couldn't let him hear that one. Because where does a name like that originate from? She didn't wanna tell that story, especially not to Billy. So as usual, she urges him down the hall to avoid the unwanted eyes. "Ignore them- I mean if being best friends with superman isn't enough to win their attention what is?" Billy said, "I dunno, wearing button up shirts with leather jackets?" Y/n teased, he laughed lightly. "I can never tell if he's going to a bike gang meetup or mathletes." Just as they were about to turn the hall to her locker, she changed his direction. "I'll walk you to class instead today- turning the gender stereotypes this morning." Y/n insisted before he could say anything. "Sure.." She smiled, before they made a turn for his class. "I'll see you at lunch- meet at your locker today, cool?" "Why?" "It's faster dingus-" She told him before walking off to her class.

But that wasn't enough. She was avoiding something, trying to get him to avoid something. Or someone. Billy didn't like it. What if she was hiding something important? Did she have a crush on someone else? Was she going to ask someone else out? But the bigger question in his mind remained- was she getting bullied? More than she had let on? From what Y/n had shown, it seemed like she didn't really care about the whispers or the passing stares. But what if he was wrong- and she was hurting? She would tell him right? He sighed, he wasn't that honest either, he wasn't ever going to tell her what he really thought. Or wanted. Because no matter how much he wanted it, to hold her, kiss her, he couldn't bare the rejection. From his mom, his dad, and now her.

💫

Billy was able to sneak past his teacher earlier today, instead opting to head for her classroom- against her suggestions. It wasn't nosy, he was just worried- and he would make sure she wouldn't see him anyway. Her class seemed to be ending earlier too, most kids were on their phones or doing homework. But of course Y/n was reading that dusty book she carried around everywhere. Instead this time, she was writing in it. That language he thought was impossible to understand. His eyes widened, trying to get a closer look. "Frankenstein- your dusty ass book is stinking up the room! And you got sand on my bag- there are zero beaches in Philadelphia where the hell are you getting this?!" He recognized the girl, she had been in the halls earlier whispering. He began to glare at the scene, "Why is my sand on your bag? In your pure anthropology bag?" Y/n retorted, eyes not leaving the pages of her book.