#josh hutcherson
raekensluver · 2 days
we moved on too quick from josh hutcherson in fnaf.
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This question has been stuck in my head for days. Do we think any of Katniss and Peetas real life friends and family believed the baby bomb? Like if Peetas brothers were watching do you think they believed it? I'm assuming they don't know much about the actual relationship between katniss and peeta so why wouldn't they? I'm sure Mrs Everdeen didn't believe it but do we think for a second Gale did? I'm just so curious about this
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xcherryerim · 3 days
“Where is Josh?”
He’s petting a horse and taking photos with baseball mascots.
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futturmangamez · 1 day
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joshfutturman · 2 days
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𝔏𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔰 𝔦𝔫 𝔠𝔯𝔦𝔪𝔢
Billy burn x gn reader
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Summary: You and Billy successfully robbed a store on the street, hoping there would be enough things to pay the debts he has accumulated. He doesn’t end up liking some of the tactics you decided to adopt.
Warnings: no pronouns or accurate physical description used towards the reader so that everyone can read. Reader and Billy are engaged. Robbing a place together with Billy <3. Reader and Billy are NOT good persons. Jealous Billy. Smut. Riding. Sex in a car.
Note: This was requested from a really nice person on wattpad. It can be seen as a part 2 of the other story I wrote for Billy but you can very easily read this as a standalone. This is mostly just an excuse for me to leave the link so you can go and like, reblog and comment on both that fic and this one (please) :)
Words count: 4400
Can also be found on wattpad and ao3
You and Billy step into the roadside shop, the familiar jingle of the doorbell ringing in your ears. The shop is quite large, with aisles filled with variety of items.
It was like entering a maze.
The only other person present is a young cashier behind the counter, absorbed in his phone. He glances up brietly, offering a nod before returning to his screen.
The air smells fainthy of old wood and cleaning supplics.
To blend in and divert any suspicion, you take Billy's hand and lead him down one of the aisles, your laughter and playful demeanor filling the otherwise quiet space.
“Look at this," you say, picking up a hat from one of the displays.
It started with a high, rounded top that sits proudly on the head. The edges of the top dipped with a curve. It had a wide, sweeping brim that cascaded around the hat.
You place it on Billy's head and adjust it, giggling. It made him appear taller. "It fits perfectly," you tease, your voice light and carefree.
Billy smirks, a shadow of his darker intentions flickering in his eyes as he surveys the layout of the store.
Wandering through the aisles, you make a show of examining various products, occasionally holding up items for Billy's opinion, such as the ridiculous pair of oversized sunglasses that you put on, striking a pose that makes Billy chuckle. "What do you think?" you ask, twirling playfully.
His laughter, though genuine, hides the calculating thoughts that race through his mind as he notes the position of the exits and the layout of the aisles.
Your interaction is filled with casual touches and whispered jokes, designed to paint a picture of a couple simply enjoying an impromptu shopping trip.
You passed by the section with bottled drinks. Billy fingers the various brands of alcohol, his gaze lingering on the more expensive ones. "Maybe we should get something nice for tonight," he suggests, a hint of something darker lurking beneath his casual tone.
You throw yourself to him, tossing your arms around his neck to lean in closer to him. “I like the way you think” and he chuckled, his chest vibrating against your body. You can feel his warm breath against your skin, the familiar smell of alcohol and smoke mingling between you.
As you continue to browse, your eyes land on a glass case filled with firearms. Billy notices your gaze and follows it, "Well, well, well,” he murmurs, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Looks like we hit the jackpot.”
You both approach the glass case, peering inside with a mix of curiosity and excitement. Billy’s fingers trace the outline of a sleek revolver, his eyes studying it with the practiced ease of someone who knows their way around weapons “This one’s a beauty,” he says, his voice low and reverent.
"It's a Smith & Wesson Model 29" you traced your finger along the glass. "It's a classic .44 Magnum revolver. Dirty Harry made it famous, remember?"
Billy nodded, a small smile playing on his lips at your shared interest. "Yeah, it's a powerful piece. Six round cylinder, blued finish, and a wooden grip. As I said, a real beauty."
Your eyes moved to a sleek black pistol. "That's a Glock 19," Billy remarked. "Compact and reliable."
You nodded, adding, "Yeah, it's known for its durability and simplicity. Very easy to use and maintain." You gave him a sidelong glance. "Maybe we should get one for protection. You know, for when you forget our anniversary."
Billy smirked. "Trust me, I've got that date locked in my memory. No need for firepower”
You laughed at his words, your fingers brushing against the glass. “Imagine what we could do with these”
Billy’s eyes meet yours, and a silent understanding passes between you. This could be the answer to his debts, something you’ve both been desperately searching for.
The plan takes shape in your mind, unspoken but clear.
“We need to be smart about this,” Billy says, his voice taking on a more serious tone. “Let’s see if we can get a better look at the cameras.”
“I’ll take care of distracting him” you nod your head to point to the guy at the checkout.
You reach the counter, where the cashier is still engrossed in his phone. “Hey, how’s your day going?” you ask, striking up a conversation. The cashier looks up, startled, and offers a hesitant smile.
“Not too bad, he replies, setting his phone down. “Just the usual.”
“Must get pretty lonely here sometimes,” you say, leaning slightly against the counter. The cashier’s eyes flicker with interest, and you know you’ve got his attention. You slip off your wedding ring, discreetly tucking it into the pocket of your leather jacket.
Your arms rested on the counter, your head tilted slightly to the right to show interest.
“So, do you work here often?” you ask the cashier, leaning in a little closer. The cashier, caught off guard by your forwardness, straightens up, clearly interested now.
“Yeah, most days,” he says, a slight flush creeping up his neck. “It’s not too bad. Quiet, like you said.”
“Well, you must be good at it,” you say, your voice dropping to a softer tone. “It’s nice to see a friendly face in a place like this.”
You catch sight of the gun tucked under the counter, realizing just how dangerous this game has become.
Billy, from a distance, watches with narrowed eyes. His jealousy simmers beneath the surface as he watches you flirt, the tone of your voice making his blood boil.
He moves quietly, checking the cameras, his movements swift and efficient. But he can’t focus completely, his thoughts constantly drifting back of to you and the cashier.
The sight of you leaning in closer to the cashier, touching his arm, and laughing at what he was saying gnaws at Billy. He perceives the seething fury taking root within, an overwhelming need to assert his claim over you.
Each smile you give the cashier, each casual touch, feels like a slap to his face.
He tries to concentrate on the cameras, but his mind is a whirlwind of angry thoughts and vivid images of the cashier making a move on you.
His heart pounds with a mix of anger and desire, each beat a reminder of how much he hates seeing you with another man, even if it’s all part of the plan.
The cashier, emboldened by your attention, smiles more confidently. “I try,” he says, his eyes flicking to your lips briefly. “So, what brings you two here?”
“We’re just passing through,” you say, giving him a playful smile. “Needed to stretch our legs, maybe pick up a few things.”
Billy moves to the other side of the store, he noticed a few security cameras mounted in the corners and made mental notes of their positions.
He noticed a door marked “Employees Only” at the back and figured it might lead to an office or storage room. He also spotted a small emergency exit near the back, which could be useful for a quick getaway.
The cameras are all over the most valuable stuff. If you and him really want to get what you need, you will get caught.
He can’t stop glancing over, watching you with a mix of frustration and desire.
You’re just wasting time talking to that idiot. It would be much better if you came back to his side to discuss a new plan.
You’re not even glancing over at him to see if there are any possible signals he could be giving you.
Why are you so interested in talking to that prick?
He clenches his jaw, trying to suppress the urge to storm over and put an end to the conversation.
“You seem like an interesting guy.” you continue, leaning even closer. “Do you do anything else besides working here?”
The cashier chuckles nervously, “Not much.”
You nod, your eyes twinkling with mischief. “I get that. It’s hard out there. But you must have some fun, right? Maybe a little adventure now and then?”
Billy clenches his fists at his sides, his knuckles turning white.
He takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He imagines the cashier’s hands on you, the way he looks at you with that smug, interested expression.
It makes his vision blur with anger.
“Adventure, huh?” the cashier says, his interest clearly piqued “Well, I suppose I could use a bit more of that in my life.”
You smile, your hand lingering on his arm. “Everyone needs a little adventure.”
The dam of his patience crumbled, and a torrent of possessive fury washed over him, leaving no room for pretense or patience.
He strides over, his presence a dark storm cloud. The cashier looks up, surprise and fear mingling in his eyes as Billy pulls out his revolver and points it directly at him.
“Don’t even think about it!” Billy yells, his voice shaking with anger. The cashier freezes, his face going pale.
Billy’s eyes flick to you, and for a moment, you see the struggle in his gaze. The raw intensity of his emotions is laid bare, and it sends a thrill through you.
The cashier takes advantage of the moment of distraction, lunging for his hidden weapon.
Driven by instinct, you swiftly pull the gun concealed by your leather jacket and press it firmly against the cashier’s back. ‘Don’t even think about it,’ you command, your voice steady and teeth clenched.
Gradually, your gaze drifts back to your husband.
His stance is unyielding, his jaw set firmly, and his eyes burn with a fierce storm of emotions.
It’s evident that the anger brewing within him is barely restrained, like a tempest held back by the most delicate of barriers.
He likely recognized his own error, fueling his anger even further than before.
"Billy, what the hell are you doing?" you hiss, your voice a mix of frustration and annoyance. "I had everything under control”
Billy's face contorts with anger. "Under control? It looked like you were just enjoying talking to the guy! I'm not going to stand here and watch him try to take advantage of you."
"Are you serious? I was distracting him so we could get what we need and get out. You just made things a hundred times worse!" You feel your own anger bubbling up, your grip on the situation slipping through your fingers.
As the argument escalates, the cashier sees his chance. His hand darts towards the panic button on the counter, moving with a desperate speed.
Billy notices the movement out of the corner of his eye, his rage reaching a boiling point.
"You son of a bitch," Billy shouts, his voice echoing through the shop. In one swift motion, he brings the back of his gun down hard on the cashier's forehead. The sound of the impact is sickening, a dull thud followed by the man's groan of pain as he crumples to the floor, blood trickling down his face.
For a moment, the shop is eerily silent, the only sound being the cashier's labored breathing. You stand there, stunned, the reality of what just happened settling over you like a heavy fog.
Billy is breathing hard, his eyes wild with a mix of adrenaline and fury.
"You see what you made me do?" he snaps, kicking the unconscious man to vent even more of his anger. "If you hadn't been playing around, this wouldn't have happened!"
"Playing around? I was trying to save us!" you retort. "You're the one who lost control!"
Billy's eyes flash dangerously, but he doesn't respond.
The shop feels oppressive, the air thick with tension and fear.
"You get the recordings, I'll get the goods," he commands, his voice edged with urgency.
Nodding, you rush to the back of the store where the security system is likely housed. You find a small office, the door ajar.
Inside, monitors display various angles of the store, showing both live feeds and recorded footage. The setup is relatively simple, a standard digital video recorder with a console for playback and deletion.
Your fingers fly over the controls, navigating the system to locate the recordings from the last 24 hours. You start the deletion process, each second feeling like an eternity. The progress bar slowly moves, and you pray silently that no one will interrupt this crucial task.
Meanwhile, Billy moves methodically through the store, gathering everything that could help settle your debt with the bikers. He takes firearms first, loading them into a duffel bag he found behind the counter. Next, he grabs several bottles of expensive liquor, knowing they can be sold or traded.
He doesn't stop there, he also collects cash from the register, and grabs valuable electronics and even some jewelry that was on display near the counter. His actions are swift and precise, driven by a combination of desperation and a keen sense of survival.
Back in the office, the deletion process is finally complete. You breathe a sigh of relief as the system confirms that all recordings from the last 24 hours have been erased. You quickly disable the cameras to prevent any future recordings, ensuring there will be no evidence left behind.
With your task done, you return to the main area of the store. Billy is zipping up the duffel bag, his face a mask of grim determination. "Got everything we need?" you ask, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside you.
Billy nods. "We need to move, now."
Together, you make your way to the exit, your footsteps echoing in the now eerily silent store. As you step outside, the cool night air hits you, providing a stark contrast to the tension-filled interior you just left.
The car is parked nearby, and you both hurry towards it, the weight of your actions pressing heavily on your shoulders.
You slide into the passenger seat, the duffel bag of stolen goods clutched tightly in your lap. Billy starts the engine, his hands gripping the steering wheel with white knuckled intensity.
The car roars down the desolate road, its engine a low, constant growl that fills the otherwise silent night.
The stolen goods rattling softly in the backseat serve as a stark reminder of the desperate act you both just committed.
Hours have passed by this point and the adrenaline from the robbery still courses through your veins, mingling with a complex mix of relief and anxiety.
Outside, the dark landscape stretches endlessly, broken only by the occasional silhouette of a distant tree or a flickering roadside light.
You glance at Billy, his face a rigid mask of determination and suppressed fury, illuminated only by the faint glow of the dashboard lights.
His eyes are fixed on the road ahead, his jaw clenched tightly.
Determined to lighten the mood, you reach over and rest a hand on his arm. "We did it, Billy. We got what we needed. This is going to help us a lot," you say, trying to inject some optimism into your voice.
He nods curtly, not taking his eyes off the road. "Yeah, okay."
His brusque response stings, but you try again, your voice bright and hopeful."I mean, we did a good job despite all the shit that happened, don't you think?"
Billy mutters another "okay," his tone clipped and distant.
Frustration starts to build within you, each unacknowledged attempt at conversation feeling like a brick being added to a wall between you. The silence is oppressive, pressing down on you with every mile that passes.
Finally, you can't take it anymore. "Billy, pull over," you demand, your voice edged with urgency.
He glances at you, his brow furrowed in irritation. "Why?" he snaps, clearly exasperated.
"Just do it," you insist. With an angry huff, he swerves the car to the side of the road, the tires crunching on the gravel as he comes to a stop. The engine cuts off, plunging you into a profound silence broken only by the faint sounds of the night.
Billy leans back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest in a defensive posture. "What?" he growls, his voice laced with frustration and a simmering anger that hasn't dissipated since the robbery.
You turn to face him fully, searching his eyes for any sign of the man you know beneath the hard exterior. "Are you angry with me for flirting with that guy?" you ask, your voice soft but insistent.
Billy doesn't answer. Instead, he pulls a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it with the practiced ease of a habit formed over years.
The orange glow of the cigarette tip casts fleeting shadows over his face, emphasizing the hard lines of his jaw and the intensity in his eyes. He takes a deep drag, the smoke curling around him like a shroud.
"Do you know why I did it?" you press on, refusing to let the silence grow any thicker. "I was trying to distract him. It was part of the plan. I thought you understood that."
Billy exhales a cloud of smoke, his eyes narrowing as he looks away from you, out into the darkness. The silence stretches out, thick and oppressive.
Frustration bubbles over, and you decide to push him a little further.
“It's a shame how things ended, though," you say, your tone teasing but edged with real frustration. "He was kind of cute."
Billy's head snaps toward you, his eyes flashing with anger. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he demands, his voice low and dangerous.
Finally he is talking to you.
You raise your hands in a mock gesture of surrender, though your heart pounds in your chest. "I'm just saying, maybe things could have gone differently if you hadn't lost your temper. We might have avoided the whole confrontation."
Billy's jaw clenches even tighter, and he takes another drag of his cigarette, the smoke swirling in the confined space of the car. "So now it's my fault?" he mutters, his voice tinged with hurt and anger.
You sigh, your teasing smile fading as the gravity of the situation settles over you. "That's not what I meant, Billy. I just... I want to know why you're so angry with me. We got what we needed. We're okay, for now."
He stares at you for a long moment, the anger in his eyes slowly giving way to something more complex: hurt, betrayal, and a deep-seated fear.
You reach out and take his hand, squeezing it gently in a gesture of reassurance. "You won't lose me, Billy. We're in this together. But we need to be on the same page. We need to trust each other."
He finally looks back at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of regret and determination. "I do trust you," he says, his voice steadier now. "I just... I need to get better at showing it."
You smile, relief flooding through you at his words.
Billy extinguished the cigarette and tossed it out the window. He leans over and kisses you, the taste of smoke still lingering on his lips. The kiss is intense, filled with a renewed sense of connection and understanding.
You shifted in your seat, turning to face him more fully. His hands moved to your waist, pulling you towards him until you straddled his lap. His grip is firm but not harsh, a silent declaration that you are his and he is yours.
As you rested in his arms, the physical tension between you began to transform into a palpable, almost electric energy, drawing you closer to him with an undeniable pull.
Billy's hands explored your back, slipping under your shirt, his touch igniting a trail of heat across your skin. He traced the curve of your spine, then moved to your sides, his fingers brushing the sensitive skin there, eliciting a soft gasp from you. The contact was electrifying, each touch a reminder of the deep connection you shared.
Billy's hands traveled to your hips, his grip tightening as he guided you closer. You could feel the growing urgency in his touch, mirrored by the heat pooling in your own body. You moved together with a practiced ease, your bodies responding instinctively to each other. He shifted beneath you, his hands moving to the hem of your shirt, lifting it slowly.
You raised your arms, allowing him to pull it off, and then his hands were on you again, explorin, caressing.
He shifted slightly, his other hand coming up to cup your face, his thumb brushing gently across your cheek. His gaze was intense, locking with yours as he leaned in for a kiss, his lips parting yours, his tongue exploring with a gentle insistence.
Your hands moved up to his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his jacket as you pulled him closer. The air between you grew warmer, charged with a mixture of urgency and tenderness.
Billy's hands move to your face, his touch both gentle and possessive, as if he is afraid to let go, afraid to lose this moment.
Billy's breath hitches as you shift on his lap, your hips finding a rhythm that mirrors the beat of your hearts. His eyes, dark and intense, lock onto yours, conveying a depth of emotion that words could never fully capture.
His hands grip your waist with a possessive strength, guiding your movements with a blend of tenderness and urgency. "You're perfect," he murmurs against your lips, his voice a low growl that vibrates through you, adding to the symphony of sensations coursing through your body.
You respond with equal fervor, Your own hands roamed over his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath his shirt.
You tugged at the fabric, pulling it over his head, and he helped you, discarding the garment to the side. His skin was warm under your touch, the contours of his body familiar and comforting.
You pressed closer, your lips finding his again in a fervent kiss, your bodies aligning perfectly.
Billy's lips left a trail of kisses along your jawline, down your neck, and across your collarbone. Each kiss was deliberate, a silent declaration of his love and desire.
Billy's eyes roamed over you, his gaze filled with a mixture of reverence and desire.
His thumbs brushing over your nipples, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. You arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips.
He responded with a growl, his mouth descending to capture one of your nipples, his tongue flicking against the sensitive bud.
You could feel the hard length of him pressing against you.
Your hands found their way to his belt, your fingers working with a sense of urgency to unbuckle it. You undid his belt, then the button and zipper of his jeans, your hands slipping inside to free him from the confines of the fabric.
Billy groaned as you touched him, his hips lifting slightly to help you slide his jeans and boxers down. You moved with a sense of purpose, your hands and lips exploring every inch of his exposed skin.
He pulled you closer, his hands moving to the waistband of your pants, tugging them down with a firm, insistent pull. You helped him, discarding the last barrier between you.
In the confined space of the car, every movement was magnified, every touch more intense. Billy's hands took hold of your hips again, lifting you slightly as he positioned himself at your entrance.
You could feel the heat of him, the anticipation building to a fever pitch.
With a slow, deliberate movement, he guided you down onto him, filling you completely. The sensation was overwhelming, a perfect union of bodies and souls.
You gasped at the feeling, your hands gripping his shoulders for support. He held you close, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet of the night.
You began to move together, a slow, rhythmic dance of passion and love. Each movement was a testament to your bond, a physical manifestation of the deep connection you shared.
You could feel every inch of him inside you, every thrust a reminder of his love, his need, his desire. The pace quickened, the urgency between you growing.
You rode him with a fervent intensity, your hands gripping his shoulders, his hips lifting to meet yours with each thrust.
The pleasure gradually intensified, building up like a symphony reaching its peak. Each wave of sensation stacked upon the last, growing stronger and more compelling.
He guided you with his rough and large hands, matching your movements with his own.
The tension building, the edge of release drawing closer with each thrust, each touch, each kiss.
When the climax came, it was a shattering wave of pleasure, a culmination of everything you felt for each other.
You cried out, your body tensing, then releasing in a flood of sensation. Billy followed, his own release a powerful, primal groan, his hands gripping you tightly as he found his own peak.
In the aftermath, you collapsed against him, your bodies slick with sweat, your breaths coming in ragged gasps.
He held you close, his arms wrapped around you, a silent promise of protection and love.
It’s just you and Billy against the world, together, unbreakable, with nothing but the open road and a shared dream of freedom stretching out before you.
Note: if you liked this story please leave a comment, I love reading them <3. Stories where you get to play the part of the bad guy are some of my favorites
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fckthisapp · 1 day
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jhutchstuff · 2 days
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joshfutturmanirl · 1 day
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i’m gonna end it
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mikeandikeschmidt · 2 days
Does anyone know how to roller-skate? Abby wants to for her birthday and I’ve never done it before..
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jjenkei · 2 days
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scorfaano · 1 day
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clapton davis my son
ive fallen down the josh hutch filmography and i cant escape
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okayxairen · 9 months
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Another parallel I’ve found, could be a coincidence but it’s really cool nontheless!!
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ayo-edebiri · 9 months
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FNAF (2023) + text posts
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everestentertainments · 9 months
best part of the FNAF movie was that Josh Hutcherson was having the WORST time of his life. dude was stressed out the entire runtime. the only reason why he got the security job was because his job counselor just so happened to be the guy who murdered his little brother. Vanessa kept lore-dumping to him but he wasn't getting it because he was running on like 2 hours of sleep. his b-plot was his aunt trying to ruin his life. ghost children tried to murder him multiple times. he almost touched a springlock suit. the climax was him getting beat up by a guy in a fursuit. Golden Freddy manifested in his house. it was awesome 10/10.
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joshfutturman · 18 hours
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