Billie Joe Armstrong X reader Part 1
You opened your (e/c) eyes to discover you were not in a familiar place. You lay on the cold floor of some basement, your (h/c) hair spread out around your head like a halo and blood was dripping from your nose. The last thing you could remember was sitting on a bench in your local park being too scared to go home because of your father. You sat up and searched the pockets of your black skinny jeans desperately for you phone.
“Well if I’ve been kidnapped it isn’t like they’re going to leave me with my phone is it?” you scowled at yourself in annoyance.
You sat in the closest corner of the room and that was when you saw it, a large suitcase in the opposite corner of the room. At first you thought nothing of it not until you heard the voice coming from it.
“Hello?” you asked thinking you were going mad.
“Can you let me out please?” the voice said back.
You cautiously walked over to the suitcase unsure on what was going on. You grasped the zip and slowly pulled it up. When you had the zip halfway the person inside pushed its arm out undoing the rest itself. You gasped suddenly as you see who it was in the suitcase.
“Thanks, it was extremely hard to breathe in there,” Billie Joe Armstrong said.
You couldn’t move. You couldn’t speak. Your heart was racing you couldn’t believe your sweet (e/c) eyes who it was.
“Eh… Err what… wh… what are you doing here?” You asked when you finally found your voice.
“Oh. I don’t know. They jumped on me and before I knew it I was in there. Now I know I’m small but that’s just taking the mickey,” he said, “are you OK?”
“I… I’m fine,” you stuttered just realising how small he really was.
“So… what are you doing here?”
“I was sitting in my local park and then I woke up here,” you said still not quite over the shock.
“It’s been raining all day why were you in the park, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Oh… don’t worry about it,” you said not wanting to tell him.
You sat down on the floor with your back against the wall and tucked your knees into your chest as you had started to feel cold. Billie Joe sat next to you and sighed.
“So what’s your name?” he asks you.
“It’s (your name) , and I know who you are,” you say as you stretch your ‘Green Day’ top over your knees
Billie Joe giggled as you grinned at him.
“So you like my band then?”
“I certainly do,” you giggled.
“I don’t want to sound like a creep but how old are you?” Billie Joe asks wincing.
“Oh it’s ok eh… I’m 18 tomorrow ironically and again I know you are 20 so who’s the creep?” you smiled.
“Ah the joys of crazily obsessed fans,” he laughed.
Suddenly the only door in the room opened and some guy in a mask walked in armed with a metal baseball bat. The man was at least 6ft 2inch and the mask covered all of his face but his eyes and mouth. His eyes were small and evil and he was wearing a psychotic grin. His clothes are green overalls and brown boots.
“How are my little gothy emos doing?” he asked, his smile never faltered and his voice was a joyful creepy, like the scary kids in horror films.
“Is this what you have us here for, because we are as emos?” Billie Joe asked.
“It most certainly is,” the man sang.
“I’m sick to death of being victimised just because I’m emo, and besides I don’t even know you so I couldn’t have ever been bad to you,” you yelled
The man didn’t speak or remove his smile he just slowly walked towards you. You and Billie Joe stand up not comfortable sitting with that psycho in the room. He stopped two steps in front of the pair of you and remained still. Your heart was racing, you had never felt this much fear in your life. Without warning the psycho smacked you full force in the stomach with his bat. The pain is excruciating and you fell to the floor gasping for breath. Billie Joe went to smack the psycho but he was too slow the bat was already pressed against his neck half strangling him and trapping his arms.
“Leave him alone,” you coughed still trying to inhale precious oxygen.
The psycho looked at you. His glare burned but you refuse to do anything but stare back. He left after kneeing Billie Joe in the stomach. He stopped at the door.
“You don’t speak to me like that or I will hurt you again.”
“You sound like my father,” you shouted as the man closed the door.
The room was left in silence for several minutes; you picked yourself up sitting properly letting time pass you now too scared to talk to Billie Joe. You were waiting for him to question you about your father and what you meant by what you said.
“Are you OK?” Billie Joe asks.
“I’m fine,” you muttered the same words you say every time someone asks you how your feeling no matter if it’s the truth or not.
“Thanks for trying to defend me,” he then said.
“No problem,” you smiled unsure on why he didn’t ask about your father.
“We need to make a plan. We need to get out of here. I don’t want to be murdered by some narrow minded psycho,” Billie Joe scowled.
“Your right, I too don’t want to die in here. What do you propose we do?” you asked.
“I don’t know. He’s strong, I believe he may have been training for this and I know he isn’t in this alone. There is probably more behind that door. God knows how long it will take for someone to realise we’re missing.”
The room went silent as you both lost yourselves in thought; both trying to think of a way to get out.
