#former are [nothing] to [i'm taking psychic damage] & fuck if i know what's going on besides The Ultimate Romance(tm) (negative)

[unproduciblesmackdown]

as ever like: no two things Need to be juxtaposed, much less like material vs material deathmatch Only One Can Be Good, much less am i thinking i have thee objective word on fuckall b/c who does and it's like perfectly boring & unserious whenever someone just throws out Takes that are just "i think...[xyz] is [adjective]" like okay.

but anyways thinking of how, though differing in execution in a lot of ways ofc, deh & bmc start out in a v similar place & explore a journey to self-acceptance from a despairing starting point....it feels like a lot of the hindrance in deh's exploration of its own Theme there is in like, hey. :) hand on your shoulder. it's okay b/c you'll be able to be more normal. whereas w/bmc it's that it's okay b/c you'll be able to be more abnormal

[five-miles-over]

Heyyyy I saw you take requests for Willie, I'm so happy!!! we really lack fics with him. Could you please write an imagine (or HC ) about Willie needing comfort, he feels lonely, perhaps rejected and judged by most people around him and reader comfort him pretty please? can be pure fluff or end nsfw. Thank you so much and I really love your writing <3

Hi, @darknessisafriend ! Thank you so much for your request and your compliments (and thank you for your patience as well). I’m starting to enjoy writing for Willie, and I’d love to do it more often. Hope you like this fic, my friend :)

The Light Blinking at the End of the Tunnel

Pairing: Willie Gutierrez x Reader

Warnings: swearing, mentions of violence, references to the film The Yards.

"I suppose you want to ask me why I killed him,"

You lowered your eyes while Willie took a large bite of a pizza slice, chewing slowly and glaring. Almost as if he dared you to say something back to him, knowing fully well that you weren't expecting him to get so defensive all of a sudden. The surprise was clear in your body language - the shortness of your breath, the partition of your lips, and the way your eyebrows curved - that you'd never even thought about how dangerous his past could possibly be.

———————————————————————————————————

Ever since the blackout a few months ago, when you'd accidentally knocked on Willie's door to borrow some candles, he had become your closest confidante, possibly your only ally in your new neighborhood situated the shady heart of the Bronx.

The two of you bumped into each other again in the hallway another morning after that fateful night. That time, you exchanged phone numbers and promised again to hang out sometime. At the time, you told yourself that he was just saying those things to be nice to you, that he couldn't really be serious about spending more time with you.

Much to your surprise, Willie showed up at your door the next Friday with a bottle of your favorite liquor - the one he saw you drinking when he came over to your place during the blackout - and a pack of beer for himself. From the scent of his breath, you could already tell that he'd already had a drink or two before coming over, but who cared? You had to give him points for the liquid courage.

After to let him inside, you and Willie spent the entire night talking, ranting about your horrible jobs, and laughing at the world. And soon enough, it became a tradition for you to spend Friday nights together. Even thought Willie eventually gained the zeal to go clubbing and try new places with strangers around town, you both had an implicit agreement to keep Friday nights reserved for each other.

And so today, like any other Friday night, you came over to his place carrying a box of pizza and some garlic bread with dipping sauces. That was always the arrangement between the two of you. Since you didn't have much to spend, one of you would always bring the food while the other brought the alcohol. It didn't matter who was hosting.

"Come on in." He joyfully opened the door, saying your name as if it were one of his favorite words or the way that a game show host would announce the winner. Willie hugged you tight, trying not to damage the food, humming contentedly. "Rough week?"

You nodded, entering his apartment. You had just begun telling him about your dreary week at the office when someone knocked at Willie's door. "Don't worry, I'll take care of it." He quickly told you before answering.

From the corner of your eye, you could see Willie and a man of almost equal height talking about something important. The smile that greeted you disappeared faster than the man could state the words 'New York Police Department', and Willie's eyebrows seemed to furrow with each word the man said after that.The man continued to inform Willie of something in a hushed tone, and curtly left when he was done.

"Who was that?" You asked absent-mindedly, turning to face Willie after he closed the door.

"No one. Could you maybe keep the fries on the table over there?"

You raised you eyebrow, wondering if he might've been referring to the garlic bread instead. "Willie…I didn't order any fries."

"Well maybe you should have!" Willie yelled.

Startled by his sudden raise in voice, you swallowed and went back to unboxing the food. "If you want fries, I'll go over to the place in Erben Avenue."

"No, it's too late. Just…forget this fucking thing ever happened."

Not wanting to push the matter any further, you put the food out as normal and began to help yourself. And Willie brought out the liquor he'd promised to get for the both of you. As the sun began to set, you tried to make small talk with him, asking about his week and whether his bathroom sink finally stopped leaking.

He answered you with short,  almost one-word answers. You didn't have to be a psychic to realize that he was still thinking about what happened earlier with the man. Normally, you would've tried your best to brush the whole thing off, but it was alarming to see your typically-enthusiastic, extroverted friend talk in short sentences. It had gone so far that Willie was barely looking you in the eye, almost as if he were speaking to the pizza instead of you.

"Okay, I'm going to ask you again. Who the hell was that guy?" You inquired with a hint of exasperation, "Because he seemed to take your tongue with him."

"You saw his uniform." He snapped back. "He was a policeman."

"What was he doing here?"

"That's none of your business. It's my apartment, and I can have whomever the fuck I want."

"Right." You sarcastically retorted, "Because it's your apartment, you just decided to invite a policeman over."

With a scoff, Willie took a large bite of pizza. "It's my parole officer." He muttered begrudgingly through a mouthful of dough and sauce. "That's not a damn policeman."

"You have a parole officer…" You did your best not to gasp loudly. Having a parole officer usually meant that a someone had a criminal record, possibly a heavy one.

"Yeah. Did some time years ago." Willie tried to remain casual as he confessed to you.

"What did you do…if I may ask?"

"Murder." He bit into his slice again, taking his time chewing and swallowing before speaking. "I suppose you want to ask me why I killed him,"

It was definitely tempting to try and get more information out of him. Whom did he kill? Was it family, was it a friend, was it a stranger? Could it be…could it be a former neighbor, one who lived in the place you live now?

Instead, you took a cue from his downcast, green eyes and his unprecedented silence. With a deep breath, you quietly responded to his statement. "No…I actually don't want to know why."

Taking it as a sign you  were pretty much done with him, Willie finished his pizza slice and stood up to open the door for you. When you asked him what he was doing, he told you that nobody like you should be in the same room as a murderer. That you were a decent person with a bright future ahead of you, deserving of much better than a convict for company.

You stood your ground and protested, saying that you weren't going to leave. Willie continued to persuade you to leave, saying that leaving him would be the best thing for you. And you still refused.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" He punched the crumbling wall and cursed your name while a little blood trickled from his knuckles. "I just fucking told you that I'm a murderer…and you still can't take a fucking hint?!"

"Because you're my friend!" Slamming Willie's door, it was your turn to yell now. "You're my friend…"

He blinked in disbelief at your declaration, completely taken aback by this turn of events. "You see?!" Willie repeated, addressing your name. "You see your problem?! You see too much good. You fucking still see good, and that's why you've got to go. You've got to go before you get hurt."

"Willie…"

Telling you to shut up, Willie turned away from you. With his back facing the door, he ran a hand through his thick, jet-black hair and muttered under his breath that he killed a rail yard master with a pocketknife and his girlfriend with brute force. The second case was a complete accident, but it left him completely alone.

"After she died, her stepfather - my boss - cut me off." His eyes began to sting with tears as he slumped onto the couch. "None of his guys offered to bail me out or vouch for me…I got out on parole after five years because I was good. I was good to the guards and all, not causing trouble or shit like the others. But…nobody 'xcept for my high school friend offered to get in touch with me or talk to me. I was pretty much alone, and thrown out here."

You gently placed a hand on his shoulder, sitting carefully near him. "Thanks for sharing with me, Willie," you whispered. "I…it really means a lot to me."

"I could hurt you too."

"Yeah…but you haven't." And it was the truth. Since you'd met him, Willie had been nothing but warm and loyal to you. Outside of your usual Friday night hang-outs,  he always said 'hi' whenever you passed by in the hallway, he offered to plunge your toilet when there was water trouble, and even taught you to haggle with the electricians when they tried to charge you too much to fix a bad outlet. He was like your 'knight in shining armor', always trying to help you and expecting nothing in return.

Sometimes, you even thought about asking him out on a date, maybe to see if something more could happen between the two of you. The only reason you hesitated for months to make a move was because of how good-looking and charming he seemed. There was no way that a guy like him could be available. None of the cute guys usually were.

"There's good in you, Willie. I've seen it for myself," You confided, rubbing circles on his back. "You told me yourself that it was good behavior that got you out of prison after five years. And I'm sure lots of others will see how good you are on the inside, just like I do."

"You don't have to be nice to me." He sniffed, giving you a tired glance.

"No, I don't,"You admitted. "But I want to be nice to you. Because you're nice to me." Closing your eyes, you wrapped your arms around Willie and inhaled the scent of fabric softener from his shirt. In return, he held your arms and accepted your hug.

"You're seriously the best thing in this goddamn place." Willie muttered with a sigh.

"You too, Willie." The two of you remained silent before he offered to let you spend the night, and maybe watch a movie after dinner was over.

"Fine," you agreed, promising to leave early so as not to give him trouble in the morning.

The truth was, after seeing how calm and accepting you were about his past, Willie wouldn't have minded you staying over until noon the next day...maybe even inviting you to have dinner with him again, somewhere nicer where the two of you could treat yourselves.

But all that was a bit far ahead. Right now, all Willie wanted was to enjoy the fact that there really was a light blinking at the end of the long, dark tunnel…and that he could see it sitting next to him on the couch.