Victim of the Symptom(billie joe armstrong x reader)

Glimpse of Stardom

The charity gala was a wild clash of old money and rock and roll swagger, a glittering, over-the-top display of wealth where the champagne flowed as freely as the celebrity gossip. As Lila Carter walked into the massive ballroom, she felt the familiar flutter of nerves in her stomach. The crowd was dazzling, too polished, too rich for the likes of her—or at least, that's what her small-town instincts screamed at her. But she wasn't just a wide-eyed kid from Oregon tonight. 

She was here on assignment, a young journalist in the thick of it all.

Inside the grand ballroom, the chandeliers cast a soft, golden glow over the space, bathing everything in an almost surreal light. The marble floors gleamed, reflecting the swirling movements of guests who glided through the crowd as if they owned the room. Which, of course, many of them did. It was the kind of place where everyone had connections, where fortunes were exchanged with a glance, and where Lila felt like an outsider—a tiny ship navigating a storm of wealth and power.

The jazz band onstage provided a smooth, seductive soundtrack to the evening, their music lacing itself around the conversations, laughter, and clinking glasses. Lila clutched her camera bag a little tighter, her fingers tapping nervously against the leather strap. She wasn't here to gawk at celebrities or soak up the luxury—she had a mission.

Billie Joe Armstrong.

The name alone made her pulse race. She'd grown up with Green Day blasting through her cheap, old stereo, their music a loud, rebellious comfort during her angsty teenage years. Now, in her twenties, she was standing on the precipice of her biggest career moment yet: an interview with the man whose music had shaped her adolescence. It wasn't just another celebrity gig—it felt personal.

After scanning the room for a few moments, she finally spotted him at the bar. And even in a sea of tuxedos and designer gowns, Billie Joe was impossible to miss. He wasn't your typical polished rock star; he had that rough-around-the-edges charm, that perfect blend of rebellion and allure that made everyone else seem boring by comparison. His hair was styled to perfection, spiked just enough to make him stand out without trying too hard. He wore a fitted black suit, though the tie was already undone like he'd just wrestled his way out of some uptight meeting and couldn't wait to breathe again.

Lila felt a sudden surge of adrenaline. This was it—her moment. She squared her shoulders and pushed through the crowd toward him, her mind racing with the questions she'd spent the entire afternoon preparing. But as she got closer, she felt the chaos in his energy. He was laughing, joking around with a couple of people, but there was something wild behind his eyes—a spark of mischief, maybe, or a hint of the exhaustion he was masking with charm.

She stepped up to the bar, heart pounding in her chest, and cleared her throat. "Mr. Armstrong?"He turned, his dark eyes meeting hers, and for a moment, there was that brief flicker of surprise. But then he smiled, slow and crooked, and it was the kind of smile that could melt an entire room. "Call me Billie. 'Mr. Armstrong' makes me sound like I'm getting dragged into a meeting with some fucking lawyer."

Lila let out a nervous laugh, feeling the tension ease just a little. "Billie, then. I'm Lila Carter, from Metro Magazine. Do you have a few minutes?"

His smile widened as he gave her a quick once-over, his eyes lingering just long enough to make her blush. "For you, Lila? I think I can spare a few."

Her heart did a somersault at the way he said her name, as if he was already trying to get under her skin. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, but she held her ground. "I'll keep it quick," she promised, pulling out her notepad. "You're here tonight supporting a great cause. What drew you to this event?"

Billie took a swig of his champagne and leaned casually against the bar, giving her his full attention. "You ever hear about karma? Do good, get good? I figure I've probably built up a shit ton of bad karma over the years. Might as well try to balance it out before the universe kicks my ass."

Lila grinned at his response, quickly jotting down notes while trying not to laugh. Billie Joe had a way of making even the simplest answer sound like he was letting you in on a secret. She shifted to her next question, her nerves fading with each passing second.

"What's the hardest part about balancing this life—tours, media, and personal time?" He exhaled, and for a moment, she saw that flicker of something real beneath the rockstar exterior. "That's a hell of a question. It's chaos, man. Sometimes, you're just trying to stay above water. One minute, you're killing it on stage, and the next, you're trying to figure out how to explain to your kid why you haven't been home in a month. It's fucked up, honestly."

Lila scribbled furiously, her hand struggling to keep up with his words. There was a raw honesty there that surprised her, but it also made sense. He wasn't just the rock star she'd idolized—he was human, wrestling with the same shit everyone else did, only magnified a thousand times by the world watching him.

"What do you do to manage it? To keep your sanity?" she asked, leaning forward slightly.Billie's grin returned, but this time it had an edge to it. "Oh, I've got my vices. Sometimes I'll lose myself in writing songs, sometimes I'll just get lost. You know how it is. You find your ways to cope. Maybe even some that you shouldn't."

The flirty undertone in his voice wasn't lost on Lila. She felt the heat in her cheeks again, but something about his chaotic energy made it impossible to pull back. This was Billie Joe Armstrong, after all—the guy who made breaking the rules seem like the most natural thing in the world.

"Well, if you ever need a quiet place to escape," Lila teased, surprising even herself with the sudden boldness, "I know a few spots. Oregon's a lot quieter than L.A."

Billie laughed, a low, throaty sound that sent a shiver down her spine. "I'll keep that in mind, Lila from Oregon. Maybe you can show me around sometime."

She bit her lip, trying to focus on her notes and not the growing tension between them. "I might take you up on that."

Before she could say anything else, Billie pulled out his phone and handed it to her, his eyes never leaving hers. "Here. Give me your number. In case I ever need an escape."

Lila blinked, surprised at the sudden shift, but she didn't hesitate. With a quick grin, she took his phone, entering her number before handing it back. "I'll be expecting that call."

"Don't worry," he said, flashing her that trademark smile. "I don't forget pretty girls."

The conversation flowed more easily after that, Billie leaning in closer, his words becoming less about the interview and more about the back-and-forth energy between them. He was quick, sharp, and just a little reckless, his flirty banter weaving through the serious moments in a way that kept Lila both on her toes and completely hooked.

By the time their conversation wrapped up, Lila felt like she had stepped into a different world—a chaotic, exciting one that seemed to orbit around Billie Joe Armstrong. He was magnetic, unpredictable, and damn near impossible to ignore. As he wandered back into the crowd, his gaze lingered on her for just a moment longer, a silent promise hanging in the air between them.

Lila couldn't help the grin spreading across her face as she left the gala, the weight of her camera bag feeling much lighter now. Billie Joe Armstrong had gotten her number, and from the way he'd looked at her, she had a feeling this was far from the last time their paths would cross.

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IM BACKKKKK

this ones gonna be a lil much, so just be warned(this is gonna have a lot to do with billie's old addictions...)

love you guys<33