𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐦𝐲

#𝟏 𝐨𝐱𝐲𝐭𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐧

[astr0n0my-e1l1sh]

m.list t.list rules

𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨 - 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐛𝐢𝐚𝐧 - 𝐬𝐡𝐞/𝐡𝐞𝐫 - 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟔

✧.* black hair billie- the moon - constellations - the stars - digital cameras - wired headphones - anything blue - record players - midnight - jelly cats - silver jewelry- the ocean - night time - electric guitar- hit me hard and soft

𝙙𝙞𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙢𝙮 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙖𝙬𝙖𝙮 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙢𝙚?

[verysweetly]

𝓗er greatest project [b.e]

━╋ masterlist.

chapter one : 𝔀rong seat, wrong girl

the library was freezing, like whoever controlled the thermostat had a personal beef against anyone trying to study before first period.

you were sitting at your usual corner table, the one right next to the high windows where the morning sun actually hit, trying to finish up a study guide for ap bio. you had your highlighters neatly lined up by color —yellow, pastel pink, mint green— and your cross necklace kept swinging forward, tapping softly against the wooden table every time you leaned over your notebook.

that was just your routine. you were always early. you were the girl who helped the english teacher organize her bookshelf, the one who stayed ten minutes after class to explain math problems to people who didn't pay attention, and the girl who never, ever got called into the counselor's office. you didn't do it to be fake, it was just how your life went. quiet, predictable, safe. everyone in school knew you, or at least they thought they did. you were the safe option. the good kid.

then second period hit, and the whole energy shifted.

it was ten minutes into ap bio when the door swung open. mr. harrison stopped mid sentence at the whiteboard, chalk in hand.

billie walked in like she owned the place. she looked completely unbothered. big baggy jacket, dark hair framing her face, hands shoved deep into her pockets, and an oversized silver chain hanging low around her neck. she handed mr. harrison a crumpled tardy slip from the office, didn't even apologize for being late, and just stood there waiting for him to tell her where to sit.

mr. harrison looked over his glasses, scanned the room, and sighed. "okay. billie, right? you can take the empty seat next to..." he pointed right at your table. "right there."

you instinctively cleared your backpack off the chair next to you and pulled your books closer to your side of the desk.

billie walked over, her heavy sneakers thudding against the floor. she pulled out the chair, swung her leg over it, and dropped down with a heavy exhale. the smell of cold air and some kind of subtle vanilla perfume settled around the desk immediately.

you kept your eyes glued to your paper, holding your pink highlighter tight. but you could feel her looking at you. not just a quick glance.. a full, unashamed stare.

you turned your head slightly, keeping your tone polite and quiet. "hi. i'm..."

"i know who you are," billie said. her voice was low, raspy, like she had just woken up five minutes ago. she leaned her chin on her hand, her thumb casually tracing her bottom lip. "you're the girl from the student council. hard to miss your voice blasting on the PA during first period."

"oh. yeah." you shifted in your seat, tapping your highlighter against the notebook. "well, welcome to harrison's class. he goes pretty fast, so if you need the syllabus from last week, i can —"

"you always talk this fast, or are you just trying to get rid of me?"

you blinked. you literally just stopped and looked at her. her eyes were this intense, light blue, looking at you with a small, crooked smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"i'm just being helpful," you said, your voice dropping a little lower as you felt a sudden spike of heat on the back of your neck. you gestured to her blank desk. "you don't even have a notebook out."

billie didn't move an inch. she just tilted her head, her smirk widening by a fraction. "didn't ask for a notebook, preacher's daughter. i just said hi."

you sighed, rolling your eyes and turning back to your paper. "i'm not a preacher's daughter."

"you look like one," she muttered, her tone light, playful, teasing. "all neat. got your tiny cross, your neat little colored pens. it's cute."

your hand paused mid highlight. you didn't look back at her, but you couldn't stop the small bite of your lower lip. "just focus on class."

"if you say so."

she didn't focus on the class at all. for the rest of the forty five minutes, while mr. harrison babbled on about cellular respiration, billie just sat there, twirling a pen between her fingers, occasionally sliding her eyes sideways to watch you take notes. you tried your best to ignore her, but every time her knee accidentally brushed against yours under the tiny shared desk, your brain completely lost track of what the teacher was saying.

by lunch, the entire senior hallway was talking about the new girl. apparently, she transferred from a school across town, didn't talk to anyone in her first class, and already had two teachers side eyeing her dress code.

you were sitting at your usual lunch table near the courtyard windows with your friends. sarah was talking about some drama with the track team, and maya was trying to get everyone to sign up for the upcoming school bake sale.

"we need at least three more people for the setup crew on friday," maya said, tapping her pen against her clipboard. she looked directly at you. "you're coming, right? you always do."

"yeah, of course," you said, taking a sip of your water. "i can stay after school on friday."

"you're a lifesaver," maya smiled.

across the cafeteria, near the vending machines, billie was standing with a couple of guys from the basketball team who had somehow roped her into a conversation. she was leaning against the wall, one hand in her pocket, a half eaten bag of chips in the other. she looked completely bored by whatever they were saying.

and then, mid sentence, her eyes drifted across the room.

right to you.

you caught her looking, but instead of turning away like normal people do when they get caught staring, billie just kept her eyes on you. she took a slow sip from her drink, raising her eyebrows slightly, like a quiet 'yeah, i see you' across the crowded room.

"girl," sarah whispered, nudging your shoulder hard enough to make you spill a drop of water.

"what?" you said quickly, tearing your eyes away from the vending machines.

"the new girl has been staring at you for literally five minutes straight."

"no she hasn't," you lied, taking another sip of water and focusing very hard on your apple.

"she literally has," maya added, squinting across the room. "you threw her a pencil in bio and now she thinks you're best friends or something. she hasn't even blinked."

"she's just looking around," you muttered, feeling that annoying heat creeping up your neck again. "she doesn't know anyone here yet."

across the room, billie finally turned back to the guys talking to her, a lazy smile on her face as she tossed her empty chip bag into the trash. but you could still feel the lingering weight of her attention, hovering over you like a warm shadow.

when the final bell rang at 2:30 pm, you felt a wave of relief. the day had been weirdly exhausting. you packed your tote bag, said goodbye to your teachers, and started the fifteen minute walk home.

the afternoon air was crisp, leaves crunching under your shoes as you walked down the sidewalk lining the residential streets near the school. it was a quiet neighborhood, mostly older houses with big trees shielding the sidewalks.

you had your headphones resting around your neck, listening to the soft rustle of the wind, when you heard the slow roll of skateboard wheels on pavement behind you.

thump thump. thump thump.

you didn't turn around at first, assuming it was just some middle schooler. but the wheels slowed down, matching your exact walking pace right beside the curb.

you looked over.

it was billie. she was gliding slowly on a dark skateboard, one foot pushing off the concrete every few seconds, her hands shoved deep into her hoodie pockets.

"crazy coincidence," she said, looking straight ahead like she just randomly bumped into you in the middle of nowhere.

you stopped dead in your tracks, crossing your arms over your chest. "didn't i literally see you put your bag in a car earlier?"

billie kicked the tail of her board up with her heel, catching it seamlessly in one hand. she stopped right on the edge of the sidewalk, looking down at you with those ridiculous blue eyes.

"...maybe," she said smoothly, not even trying to hide it. "maybe i decided walking was better for the environment. you care about the environment, right?"

"you left your car at school just to walk on a skateboard?"

"it's a nice day," she shrugged, taking a step closer. "besides, your walking route is boring. you need company."

"i like quiet," you said, turning back around and continuing to walk.

billie fell into step right beside you, matching your pace easily. "quiet is overrated. you live in your head too much. i can tell. your eyebrows get all scrunched up when you're thinking."

"my eyebrows do not get scrunched up," you protested, though you immediately fought the urge to touch your face.

"they totally do," she laughed. it was a good laugh. real, and surprisingly warm. "so, what do you even do for fun, preacher's daughter? besides highlighting textbooks and saving the school standard?"

"i do normal things," you said defensively.

“like what? give me your top three.”

you hesitated. "i read. i help my mom around the house. i listen to music."

"music, huh?" billie tilted her head, looking interested for the first time all day. "okay, now we're talking. what are you listening to right now?"

"just... whatever's on the radio, mostly," you admitted, shifting your bag on your shoulder. "top 40 stuff. whatever plays in the car."

billie stopped in her tracks again. she looked at you like you had just told her you eat cereal with water.

"are you serious right now?" she asked, her voice dripping with dramatic disappointment. "radio pop? that's what you listen to?"

"there's nothing wrong with the radio!" you said, stopping to face her, a small, genuine smile slipping through your defensive mask. "it's easy. it's catchy."

"it's trash," billie corrected deqdpan, shaking her head. "that's an actual crime. we're fixing that. i'm taking this as a personal insult to my ears."

"you don't even know what i like," you countered, pulling your jacket tighter around yourself.

"i know you like boring stuff because nobody's shown you good stuff yet," she said, taking half a step closer. the distance between you suddenly felt very small. the cool breeze blew a strand of hair across your face, and for a second, billie's eyes dropped to your lips before sliding back up to meet your gaze. "i'll make you a list. or better yet, i'll just play it for you next time."

"who said anything about a next time?" you muttered, crossing your arms, though a smile gave you away.

billie just smirked, dropping her skateboard onto the pavement with a loud kick. "we have bio tomorrow morning, you don't get a choice."

she stepped off the curb, flipping her board back onto the asphalt with a loud click. "later, preacher's daughter."

you stood on the sidewalk, watching her skate down the street, her black hoodie fading into the afternoon shadows. you shook your head, trying to clear the weird, fluttering feeling in your chest, and walked the rest of the way home in complete silence.

by 9:00 pm, you had finished your homework, showered, and were lying in bed in your oversized t shirt. the house was quiet. your parents were downstairs watching tv, and your room was only lit by the soft glow of your bedside lamp and the streetlights outside your window.

you picked up your small gold cross from the nightstand, slipping it back around your neck. a habit you had done every night for as long as you could remember. you flattened your pillows, settled under the heavy duvet, and reached for your phone to set your alarm for 6:30 am.

just as you set it down, the screen lit up with a buzz.

a notification popped up across the top.

unknown number : hey preacher's daughter

you froze. you sat up straight in bed, staring at the screen.

your fingers hovered over the keyboard for a solid minute. your mind raced. who gave her my number? was it someone in bio? did she ask maya?

you typed out a reply, trying to sound as unbothered as possible.

you : how did you get my number?

you watched the screen. almost instantly, three little grey dots appeared at the bottom of the chat bubble.

they bounced for a few seconds. stopped. then started again.

your phone buzzed in your hand.

unknown number : i prayed for it.

taglist : @bitchesbrokenpromises

© verysweetly | all rights reserved.

[verysweetly]

- 𝒫ink letters [b.e]

˒˒ masterlist.

𑅞 chapter ten : 𝔀hat comes after sorry. 𑅕

nobody tells you that love doesn’t always teach the same lesson to the people inside it.

sometimes, it teaches you completely opposite lessons. by the time the snow started melting into dirty slush along the campus curbs, billie had finally learned how to love someone properly. but she only figured it out after she completely lost them. and you? you had finally learned exactly why people are so terrified of loving anyone in the first place, but you only learned it by being betrayed. you were both being educated by the very same tragedy, just standing on completely opposite sides of the classroom.

when winter break finally rolled around, the entire campus emptied out in forty eight hours flat. the silence that settled over the brick buildings wasn’t like the heavy, suffocating kind from november.. it was just empty.

you went home. you packed your tote bag, boarded the train, and went back to your family, back to the smell of homemade cookies and the comforting, loud chaos of a house that didn't have billie’s ghost hiding in every corner. you spent your days trying to remember who you were before you ever met a girl with blue eyes and a loud laugh.

but billie stayed behind. or well, she didn’t exactly stay on campus, but her presence followed you through a screen, exactly once a day.

every single evening, at exactly 7:00 pm, your phone would buzz on your nightstand. it didn’t matter whether you were sitting at the dinner table, watching tv with your family, or just staring at the ceiling.

billie : it’s snowing really bad here today. the quad looks entirely white.

there were no paragraphs. there were no emotional paragraphs begging for you to come back, no desperate "i miss you" texts, and absolutely no double texting. if you didn’t reply, the conversation just ended right there until the exact same time the next day.

billie : checking in :)

billie : still here.

sometimes you would open them immediately, watching the little gray text sit there on your screen. sometimes you would leave them unread for hours, letting the notification just linger while you went about your day. billie never pushed. she never asked where you were or who you were with. it was just a steady, quiet pulse. a daily reminder that she was still there, completely unbothered by your silence.

billie : i hope your grandma’s cookies are still better than the ones from the dining hall.

you stared at that one for a long time. the kitchen was quiet, the smell of actual cinnamon baking in the oven filling the air. your fingers hovered over the keyboard for a few seconds, your heart doing a strange, slow thud.

you : they are. the dining hall ones are still terrible.

across the country, billie probably stared at her phone for five straight minutes without breathing. the typing bubbles appeared, vanished, appeared again, and then finally stopped altogether.

billie : good. eat a lot of them.

that was it. no victory lap, no pushing for more. just a tiny, fragile crack in the wall.

by the time the buffer of break was officially over and everyone returned to campus, winter had quietly slipped away. the brutal, bone chilling ice had melted into soft spring rain, and the quad was suddenly alive with patches of fresh green grass and students shedding their heavy wool coats for light jackets. the university came alive again in the warmth of early spring, and you had to face the reality of being back in the exact same square mile as her.

this was the part where you expected billie to immediately corner you. you figured that since you had replied to a text, she would take it as a green light to start showing up at your door or waiting outside your classes with some massive, dramatic apology.

but she didn't.

instead, you were the one who accidentally kept running into her. because when a campus is this small, you can't actually avoid someone forever, no matter how hard you try.

the difference now was that billie didn't run away anymore. she didn’t awkwardly flee the lecture hall with a muttered apology, and she didn't duck her head to avoid you. she also didn't approach you. she just... existed.

you’d see her standing by the student center, her hands shoved deep into the pockets of a light black zip up, her hair was entirely dark now, messy and pulled back away from her face, catching the bright spring sunlight. she’d be listening to miller talk, completely quiet, totally stripped of that loud, cocky persona that used to dominate the entire quad. when her eyes accidentally met yours across the lawn, she didn’t smile or wave. she just gave you a small, respectful nod, letting you know she saw you, and then she’d look right back down at the ground.

it was infuriatingly consistent. she was giving you exactly what you asked for. space, but without the disappearing act. she was just letting you see her, day after day, showing up and doing the work of simply being there.

then things finally changed a little bit on a random tuesday night near the end of the month. the library was about to close, and the third floor was completely deserted except for you. you were packing your notebooks into your tote bag, the barely warm remnants of your coffee sitting in a ceramic mug by your elbow, while a gentle spring breeze drifted through the cracked window.

you could hear her heavy boots coming before you even looked up.

billie stopped at the edge of your wooden table. she didn't sit down. she didn't even take her hands out of her pockets. she just stood there, looking at you with those wide, incredibly vulnerable blue eyes. she looked exhausted, the dark circles under her eyes looking permanent at this point, but her posture was entirely steady.

"y/n?," she said, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

you froze, holding a textbook halfway inside your bag. "yeah?"

billie swallowed hard, her jaw tightening slightly as she looked at the cautious, guarded look that immediately came over your face. "can i have five minutes? just five. i won’t take up any more of your time, i promise."

you looked at the clock on the library wall, then back at her. your heart was beating fast, but it wasn't that violent, sick feeling from november anymore. it was just a heavy, aching weight.

"five minutes," you said quietly.

she nodded, looking visibly relieved. "can we... can we go to the roof? it's way too quiet in here. i feel like everyone's staring at us.”

you hesitated for a second, then nodded. you slung your bag over your shoulder, picked up your empty mug, and followed her up the narrow concrete stairs that led to the library’s rooftop terrace.

billie shoved the heavy metal door open, and the cool outside air hit you right away. the campus below was completely dark, and you could see the streetlights reflecting off the damp sidewalks where the ice had finally melted. she walked over to the brick edge and just leaned against it, looking straight at you.

"i'm not asking for another chance," billie said, the breeze catching the loose strands of her dark hair and whipping them across her face. "i know that's what people do. they write a letter, they wait a month, and then they ask for everything to go back to normal. but i know things can't go back to normal. i'm not asking you to take me back."

you blinked, a little caught off guard by the sheer honesty in her voice. "then what are you doing here, billie?"

"i’m asking for the chance to earn it," she said, her voice completely raw, totally stripped of any frat-house armor. "there's a huge difference. i know you don’t like me the way you used to. i know the person you liked before is completely dead to you."

you looked away, your eyes tracking a car driving slowly on the street below. "i never said i stopped liking you."

it went completely silent after that, so quiet that it actually felt loud. billie just stared at you, freezing up completely as her breath hitched. her eyes went wide and filled up with tears, but she blinked them back fast because she didn't want to make a scene right there.

"i know why you liked me," billie continued softly, her voice trembling slightly but staying focused.

you looked back at her, confused. "what?"

"you liked me because you thought i made you feel safe," she said. she took one hand out of her pocket and gestured vaguely between the two of you. "in a world that always felt too loud and too fast for you, you thought i was the one place where nothing could hurt you. and i know that's completely gone now. i know that the second i walked into that basement and let those guys turn you into a joke, i destroyed that safety."

you took a step closer to the ledge, the cool air blowing past your cheeks, but your voice remained entirely level. there was no anger left in you, just a profound, empty clarity.

"it wasn't just the safety, billie," you said quietly.

she paused, locking her eyes onto yours.

"everyone thinks the worst part about what happened is that you embarrassed me," you said, your fingers tightening around the strap of your bag.

you let out a soft, shuddering breath. "but it isn't. it's what happened inside my own head afterward. it's the fact that you made me question my own judgment about people. i thought i knew how to read someone, thought i could look at a person and tell if they were safe or if they were just playing a part. but you completely shattered that intuition. now, i spend every single day second-guessing my own thoughts, wondering if the people around me actually mean what they say or if they’re just waiting for a punchline. you left me stranded in this constant state of paranoia where i can't even trust my own mind anymore."

as the words left your mouth, you watched billie visibly break.

she looked like the ground had disappeared beneath her. her shoulders dropped and she went entirely pale, letting out this sharp gasp like the air had been knocked right out of her. her jaw was shaking, and her eyes were wide with this sudden, awful realization. she obviously knew she had messed up, but she never actually realized how badly she broke your ability to trust anything good. hearing that she had genuinely ruined parts of who you were. it completely crushed her, way worse than you just saying no ever could.

"god im sorry," billie choked out, her voice cracking as a heavy tear finally spilled over her lower lash line, tracking down her pale cheek. "i swear to god, i never wanted to change you. i'm so sorry. i'm so, so sorry—"

"billie, stop," you said softly, extending a hand to gently cut her off.

she froze, her lips parted, a desperate apology still hanging in the air.

"i know you're sorry," you told her, your voice steady and remarkably tender. "i read the three pages. i see you standing out here right now. i know the apology is entirely sincere. but it’s just... apologies aren’t the missing piece anymore. they can't un-write what happened in that basement, and they can't make me forget how quickly a safe space can turn into a joke for a bunch of guys in a frat basement. they can't erase the fact that you turned my genuine feelings into a game to win a bet."

billie swallowed the dry sob in her throat, looking down at the concrete floor. she took a slow, agonizing breath, trying to steady herself.

"i don’t expect you to believe me when i say i can become that person again," billie said, looking back up into your eyes with an unedited sincerity that made your chest ache. "honestly, if i were you, i wouldn't believe me either. words don't mean anything anymore. i just... i want the chance to show you. i want the chance to become someone you’d actually feel safe standing next to again. not because i said so, but because you watched me do it."

you leaned your back against the cold brick wall, crossing your arms against the cool breeze. you looked at the sheer, unyielding determination in her posture. the way she was standing out here just to give you the absolute truth without trying to make any excuses for herself.

"why now?" you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop it. "why did it take all of this for you to realize?"

billie let out a dry, humorless laugh that sounded more like a choked sob.

"because i finally realized that apologizing isn’t fixing anything," she said, her jaw clenched tight. "letters aren’t fixing it. crying in my room isn’t fixing it. missing you until my chest feels like it’s collapsing isn’t fixing it. the only thing that actually fixes anything... is changing. it’s showing up every single day and being a better version of myself, even if you never see it. even if you never come back to me."

that line hit you harder than any emotional apology ever could have. it wasn't a promise she was making to get a reward. it was just a fact. she was changing because she hated the person she had been, and she wanted to be better, regardless of the outcome.

you swallowed the lump in your throat, staring down at your shoes. "how do i know you won’t just hurt me again, billie? how do i know that next semester, or next year, you won't just find another frat house full of people and decide that winning some stupid bet matters more than my feelings?"

billie didn't answer immediately. the silence stretched out between you for a long, unbearable minute, the only sound being the distant hum of the campus heating vents.

"you don’t," billie said honestly.

you froze, your eyes snapping up to meet hers.

"you didn’t know the first time either," billie continued, her blue eyes wide and completely steady. "trust doesn’t come with guarantees. i could stand here and swear on my life that i’ll never make you cry again, but we both know that doesn't mean anything. i'm an idiot who screwed up the best thing she ever had. all i can actually do—the only real promise i can make—is to spend every single day giving you fewer reasons to doubt me. that's it."

you stood there for a long time, the five minutes she asked for having long since passed. you didn't say yes. you didn't say no. your mind was a chaotic blur of everything that had happened over the last few months.

"i don't know," you whispered, the truth hanging heavy in the cool air between your faces.

billie nodded quickly, a faint, incredibly small smile breaking through the exhaustion on her face. it wasn't a cocky grin, and it wasn't a victory lap. it was just a quiet, fragile expression of pure relief because you hadn't walked away.

"i know," billie said softly, tucking her hand back into her pocket. "you don't have to know right now. i have all the time in the world."

she stood up straight, stepping away from the brick ledge, and started walking toward the heavy metal door to go back inside. she wasn't lingering or trying to force a physical goodbye. she was just letting the moment end exactly where you set the boundary.

funny, you thought. the last time the two of you stood on this rooftop, everything had been just beginning. now, somehow, it felt like you were standing in the exact same place, only this time with the chance to build something entirely different.

"billie?" you called out quietly.

she stopped instantly, her hand hovering over the metal handle of the door. she turned her head back around, her blue eyes looking at you through the dark. "yeah?"

you took a slow breath, slung your tote bag securely over your shoulder, and walked toward her.

"will you walk me home?" you asked.

taglist : @ellae1l1sh @billiebobasia @byeilish @mscomet @malefantasy23 @billiesf4v @yurihxlic @angelbloodedd @deardariaa @hornierthanever0 @emyscc @evieeilishh @sophlavasbillie

© verysweetly | all rights reserved.

[batty4billz]

TEXTS W GF!BILLS (red roots) pt.2

cw: suggestive language, and themes

pairings: gf!billie x gf!reader

a/n: I've been on the grind lately huh? I genuinely needs start proofreading my shi though

TAGLIST✶⋆.˚➛@jusdolls @ilomilobabyy @cookispark @maybelu7 @bilsluvbird @emecstlk @mars245ix @etherealdiva69 @amoravelee @nessaxbills @saintofdecayyy @bunnyxslutt @wildflwrrz @hellsofhearts02 @ellae1l1sh (comment if u wanna be added!)

[williamssbabydoll]

⌖ — (re) introducing BILLIE EILISH .ᐟ

BILLIE EILISH . DECEMBER 18TH, 2001. LEAD GUITARIST. KNOWN FOR HER UNPREDICTABLE STAGE PRESENCE, SHARP INSTINCTS, AND EFFORTLESS CHARISMA. THE FIRST TO ARRIVE AT REHEARSAL, THE LAST TO LEAVE. EVERY PERFORMANCE FEELS LIKE CONTROLLED CHAOS IN THE BEST WAY. HER GUITAR IS NEVER FAR FROM REACH, AND NEITHER IS A NEW MELODY.

billie eilish. 24. lead guitarist. naturally reserved. observant. effortlessly cool. oversized hoodies. vintage band tees. worn leather jackets. silver rings on every other finger. messy dark hair. headphones always around her neck. black nail polish, chipped more often than not. coffee before anything else. late-night writing sessions. notebooks filled with half-finished lyrics. records stacked against the walls. old guitars she refuses to throw away. always humming something under her breath. prefers rainy days. sarcastic sense of humor. loyal to the people she trusts. protective without making it obvious. perfectionist when it comes to music. turns every sound into inspiration. quiet confidence. soft smile. lives for sold-out crowds, but finds peace in empty studios. never misses a beat. music first, everything else later.

READER . LEAD GUITARIST. BILLIE EILISH'S BIGGEST RIVAL. EVERY AWARD SHOW, FESTIVAL, AND HEADLINE TURNS INTO AN UNSPOKEN COMPETITION THE SECOND THEY'RE IN THE SAME ROOM. THEIR NAMES ARE CONSTANTLY COMPARED, THEIR PERFORMANCES PICKED APART, THEIR TALENT MEASURED AGAINST ONE ANOTHER. THEY'D NEVER ADMIT IT, BUT THEY PUSH EACH OTHER TO BE BETTER. EVERY SHOW IS A BATTLE. EVERY SONG IS A CHALLENGE.

reader. 24. lead guitarist. effortlessly composed. masculine energy. sharp jawline. quiet confidence. black leather jackets. vintage denim. rings. chain necklaces. calloused hands from years of playing. always carrying a guitar pick in their pocket. calm under pressure. intensely competitive. rarely smiles onstage. piercing eye contact. dry humor. impossible to read. perfectionist. never misses a note. stays long after rehearsals end. writes riffs at three in the morning. thrives on proving people wrong. doesn't chase attention—it follows them anyway. respected by everyone. feared by the competition. every interview somehow circles back to billie. every performance becomes another comparison. neither willing to admit the other might actually be their favorite guitarist to watch.

[verysweetly]

- 𝒫ink letters [b.e]

˒˒ masterlist.

𑅞 chapter nine : 𝓖host town. 𑅕

the thing nobody tells you about a massive, life altering breakup is how loud the silence gets afterward. when you pull a thread out of your life, you expect a little rip, but you don't expect the whole fabric to just start unraveling at the edges.

for the first two weeks after the door clicked shut, the campus felt entirely different. it was like looking at a map you thought you knew by heart, only someone had changed all the street names overnight.

you started noticing things. or really, you started noticing the absence of things.

the university didn't stop moving, obviously. the semester kept rolling forward with its usual exhausting rhythm, but billie eilish completely vanished from the places she used to occupy. and the weirdest part was that she was still physically there, but the version of her everyone knew, the loud, effortless, cocky girl who seemed to own every room she walked into was just gone.

it started with small things that you’d catch out of the corner of your eye while walking across the quad.

you’d see her lacrosse team hanging out by the student center after practice, laughing and throwing a ball around in the freezing air, but billie wouldn't be in the middle of the circle anymore. she didn't stay behind to joke around or talk trash with the guys. the second practice ended, she’d have her gear bag slung over one shoulder, her head down, walking straight toward the dorms alone.

then the rumors started filtering through the campus grapevine, the way they always do. you’d be standing in line for a bagel or sitting in the back of the dining hall, and you’d hear people talking.

“did you see billie at the house party friday?”

“she wasn’t even there.”

“no way, it’s a frat house party, she’s always there.”

“i’m telling you, she hasn’t been to a single party in three weeks. someone said she stays locked in her room.”

it was weird hearing people talk about her like she was some kind of mystery, when just a month ago, she was the loudest constant in your life. you found out she had stopped flirting entirely. the easy, lazy grins she used to give random girls in the hallways? gone. the loud, booming laugh that used to bounce off the walls of the campus coffee shop? you hadn't heard it once. she had just… quieted down. like someone had turned her volume knob all the way to the left.

the first time you actually had to be in the same room with her for more than a passing second was a tuesday morning. the weather was already turning into that miserable, bone chilling cold that makes your joints ache.

you walked into the large, tiered lecture hall for your morning class, balancing your notebook and a travel mug. usually, you’d walk in and your eyes would automatically scan the rows to see where she was sitting, mostly because back then, she’d already be slouched in a seat, waving you over with a massive, ridiculous grin, saving the spot next to her like a kid on a school bus.

but this morning, you walked in late. there were only about five minutes before the professor started speaking, and the room was packed with the heavy scent of damp coats and wet umbrellas.

as you scanned the room for an open spot, you noticed it. there was an empty seat right at the end of the third row. and right next to it was billie.

months ago, she would have just flopped into that seat without even asking, or she would have caught your eye and patted the plastic chair until you walked down. your stomach did that familiar, violent little flip the one you hated because you couldn't control it. for a split second, the air in the lecture hall felt incredibly thin.

but billie didn't look up to catch your eye. she actually did the exact opposite.

she noticed you walking down the steps, you could tell by the way her entire body stiffened up, her shoulders dropping an inch. but instead of saying anything, or even looking at you, she just picked up her heavy black backpack from the floor, set it on the empty seat next to her, and looked straight down at her desk. she didn't try to lock eyes. she didn't give you a pathetic, pleading look. she just made herself completely unavailable, intentionally filling the space so you wouldn't have to make the awkward choice of sitting near her.

she waited a beat, and then she quietly stood up. she packed her laptop into her bag, moved past the people in her row with a quiet muttered apology, and walked all the way to the very back of the lecture hall. she took a seat six rows higher, right in the corner, completely isolated from everyone else.

you sat down a few rows below, staring at the green chalkboard. you felt this weird, complicated wave of emotion hit you. you were relieved, because the thought of sitting next to her made your chest tight. but at the exact same time, you felt this heavy, hollow disappointment that you couldn't quite shake. it was the first real boundary you had given her, and she was keeping it perfectly. it was infuriating how much it hurt.

a week after that, the first real snow of the winter hit the campus. it wasn't the beautiful, fluffy kind of snow you see in movies. it was that heavy, wet, freezing slush that turns the sidewalks into a slick mess.

you were walking back from the science building, your woolen scarf pulled all the way up over your nose to protect your face from the stinging wind. the path was narrow, cleared only by a single pass of a campus snowplow, leaving high banks of dirty, ankle deep snow on either side of the concrete walk.

you were looking down at your boots, trying not to slip, when you saw another pair of heavy boots coming from the opposite direction.

you looked up. billie was walking toward you.

she was bundled up in a plain black hoodie under a heavy denim jacket, her hands buried so deep in her pockets that her arms were pinned straight against her sides. her dark hair was damp from the falling snow, a few wet strands sticking to her forehead.

your heart did that sudden, miserable drop again. on a path this narrow, there was no way to avoid each other. you’d have to pass within inches of her. your muscles tensed up, your throat going completely dry as the distance between you closed. for one horrible, frantic second, it looked like she might look up, like she might say your name, like she might try to force a conversation on a freezing sidewalk just to hear you speak.

but she didn't.

the moment she recognized your colorful scarf from ten feet away, billie didn't hesitate. she didn't try to hold your gaze or give you a sad smile. instead, she quietly stepped right off the cleared concrete path.

she plunged her heavy boots straight into the ankle deep, freezing slush on the side of the walkway. she didn't look at you as she did it. she kept her eyes fixed firmly on the ground a few feet ahead of her, her jaw clenched tight against the cold. she walked all the way around you through the deep, wet snow, leaving a wide, respectful three foot bubble of space between the two of you.

there was no dialogue. there was no dramatic confrontation. there was just the loud, crisp crunch of her boots breaking through the icy crust of the snow, the sound of her heavy, uneven breathing in the quiet winter air, and then she was past you. she stepped back onto the concrete path several feet later, never once turning around to see if you were looking back.

she’d rather walk through freezing slush and ruin her shoes than make you feel trapped for even five seconds.

walking away, your chest felt incredibly heavy. you realized that she had never once tried to force another conversation after that night in the hallway. not a single text. not a dm. no "accidental” run ins where she tried to corner you. she was just entirely, quietly gone, giving you exactly what you asked for, even if it meant she had to fade into the background of her own life to do it.

the weather had gotten completely miserable, matching the suffocating quiet that had settled into the campus library. for days, the only sound on the third floor had been the low, steady hum of the heating vents and the occasional, crisp scrape of a turning page.

you were sitting at your usual corner table on the third floor. it was your safe haven, tucked away between the old history texts and the high windows that looked out over the frozen quad. a fresh cup of rose tea sat by your elbow, the steam rising in thin, twisting ribbons into the cold air, smelling faintly of sweet floral warmth. you hadn't looked up from your textbook in over an hour, but your eyes hadn't actually processed a single line of text. you were just staring at the black ink until it blurred.

then, a heavy, familiar shadow fell over the dark wood of your table.

you didn't look up immediately. your fingers simply tightened against the edge of your notebook, your heart doing that sudden, violent drop into your stomach before your brain could even register the heavy, rhythmic sound of familiar boots stopping right beside your chair.

"hey."

the voice was barely a whisper. it didn't have any of that old, effortless confidence or the lazy, low drawl that used to fill your apartment on weekend nights. it sounded rough, worn down by weeks of absolute silence, and completely stripped of any armor.

slowly, you lifted your head.

billie looked like a ghost of the person she used to be. she was buried in a plain, faded black zip-up hoodie that looked like it was swallowing her whole. her dark hair was pulled back loosely, the bright red roots grown out a lot, framing a face that looked completely hollowed out. there were deep, dark purple bruises of exhaustion permanently etched under her blue eyes, which were wide, wet, and staring down at you with a terrifying amount of vulnerability.

"i'm not going to stay," billie rushed out, her jaw trembling slightly as she saw the cautious, guarded flatness return to your eyes. "i promise. i'm not going to make a scene or ruin your space.. again. i just... i needed to give you this."

slowly, she pulled her right hand out of her pocket.

resting in her open palm was the original pink envelope. it was the first letter you had ever handed her. the one filled with your neat, loopy handwriting, the one that detailed exactly how safe she had made you feel in a world that always felt too loud.

but it didn't look perfect anymore. the crisp edges of the pink paper were heavily frayed, the corners completely softened and rounded from being held too many times. the pastel surface was creased with deep, spidery lines where the paper had been folded and unfolded over and over again, until the fiber itself looked thin and fragile.

"it shouldn't belong to me," billie said, her voice dropping so low it was almost swallowed by the hum of the library heaters. she gently set the envelope down on the very edge of the wooden table, right next to your textbook, her fingers lingering for a fraction of a second before pulling back sharply. "i don't... i don't have the right to keep something so good when i treated it like trash. it belongs with you. even if you throw it away."

you looked at the faded pink paper, then back up at her. the intense, physical wave of sickness that usually accompanied the thought of her didn't hit you this time. instead, you just felt that same, deep exhaustion that you couldn't shake off.

"okay," you whispered neutrally.

billie’s throat bobbed as she swallowed back a dry sob. she nodded quickly, tucking her hands right back into her pockets, her shoulders hunching inward as she took a step away from the table.

"the first page was the hardest to look at," she breathed, a single, heavy tear finally spilling over her lower lash line and tracking down her pale cheek. "that's all. i'm sorry for interrupting your studying."

she turned around and walked away. she didn't look back once. her boots made a soft, heavy sound against the carpeted floor as she disappeared into the maze of book stacks, leaving the third floor entirely silent once again.

you didn't touch the letter for the rest of the afternoon. it sat there on the edge of the dark wood, a bright, painful splash of pastel against the dull textbooks, looking like a tiny reminder to a month of your life that you were desperately trying to forget.

it wasn't until the library lights began to flicker at 8:00 pm, signaling closing time, that you finally reached out and slid the envelope into your tote bag.

the walk back to your apartment was freezing. the november wind had fully turned into a december gale, biting through your scarf and making your ears sting. by the time you unlocked your front door and stepped into the quiet warmth of your living room, your fingers were completely numb.

you threw your bag on the couch, walked into the kitchen, and set a fresh pot of rose tea on the stove. while you waited for the water to heat, you walked back to the living room, retrieved the pink envelope, and sat down at the small wooden kitchen table. the exact spot where you had sat weeks ago while the world broke apart.

you turned the envelope over in your hands, intending to just slide your original letter out and read through your own words, to see if you could still recognize the person who had written them.

but when you flipped the pastel paper over, your heart stopped completely.

the back of the envelope was completely covered in dark, black ink. it wasn't your neat, loopy script. it was a messy, chaotic, jagged handwriting that looked like it had been scrawled in a desperate hurry, the letters tilting sharply to the right.

your fingers shook as you unfolded the flap. inside, wrapped neatly around your original letter, were three full pages of notebook paper. completely packed from top to bottom with the same desperate, black ink.

you slid the pages out onto the table, the steam from the teapot beginning to whistle in the background, but you couldn't move to turn it off. your eyes were already locked onto the first line.

i don't even know if you're going to read this. you'll probably throw the whole envelope into the trash the second you get home and i wouldn't blame you. i'd blame myself. i do blame myself. every single second of every day.

i still make tea the way you liked it even though i hate tea. i still sleep on the side of the bed you used. i can’t throw away your grocery receipt. i still catch myself reaching for my phone every time something funny happens.

i read your letter so many times the fold started tearing. i'm sorry it looks so messy now. i kept taking it out in the middle of the night because your handwriting was the only thing that could stop my chest from feeling like it was collapsing. i would sit on the floor of my room and trace the loops of your letters until the sun came up, just trying to remember what it felt like when you didn't hate me. i destroyed the paper just like i destroyed everything else.

you flipped to the second page, your breath hitching in your throat. the ink here was heavier, some words written over twice as if she was pressing down on the pen with everything she had.

the stuffed frog still sits on my bed. the guys came into my room last week to clean up some stuff and miller tried to throw it in the closet as a joke and i almost broke his nose. i yelled at them until they left the house. they don't come into my room anymore. nobody does. it's just me and that stupid frog and the absolute silence of what i did to us. i haven't moved it an inch from where you left it.

i still have the receipt from the grocery store. the one from the 24 hour place when we went to get midnight snacks and you made me laugh so hard in the chip aisle because i almost dropped the hot sauce. it's tucked inside my phone case. the ink is completely fading but i can still see the date. november 14th. it was the best night of my entire semester and i didn't even realize it until i was looking at it through a screen while everyone else was laughing.

the third page was where the crossed out lines became overwhelming. whole sentences were completely blacked out with aggressive, thick horizontal strokes, as if she had started to write something defensive and then violently hated herself for it.

underneath the largest blacked out section, the handwriting grew incredibly small, almost illegible, the ink slightly warped in places as if the paper had gotten wet before she finished writing.

i wish i could go back to the roof.

i wish i never drank that night.

i know i don’t deserve another chance. i'm not writing this to ask for one. i know what i am. i'm the idiot who took the rarest, most beautiful thing that ever happened to her and used it to buy two minutes of popularity from people she doesn't even like. i see the look in your eyes every time i look in the mirror. i see how tired you are. i see how small i made you feel and it makes me want to claw my own skin off.

i kept crossing out the next sentence because every time i wrote it, it felt selfish. you don’t owe me those words anymore. but they’re still true. i love you.

i love you, and i think that’s the worst punishment i’ve ever gotten. because every time i close my eyes, i see you standing in the rain, looking at me like i was something safe. and then i have to wake up and remember that the person who destroyed your safety was me.

you don't have to forgive me. just please don't let me take away the good parts of you. keep writing. keep reading. don't let my stupidity make your world any smaller.

— b.

the kitchen was entirely quiet now, save for the wild, frantic whistling of the kettle on the stove.

you sat perfectly still, the three pages of lined paper spread out across the table before you. the ink seemed to stare back at you, raw and bleeding, completely stripped of the untouchable, effortless cool that billie usually projected to the rest of the world.

you reached over and turned off the burner, the sudden drop in noise making the apartment feel incredibly vast. you looked down at your hands, then at the faded pink paper of your original envelope.

the physical sickness was gone, replaced by something much heavier, something that pulled at the very center of your chest. she hadn't lied on the paper. you could see the truth in the jagged lines of her writing, the coffee stains, and the places where the pen had nearly ripped through the notebook paper from how hard she was pressing down.

the pages stayed spread across the kitchen table. you couldn’t bring yourself to fold them. because folding them meant deciding where they belonged. with the rest of your memories. or in the trash.

and for the first time since the night everything fell apart… you didn’t know which one hurt more.

taglist : @ellae1l1sh @billiebobasia @byeilish @mscomet @malefantasy23 @billiesf4v @yurihxlic @angelbloodedd @deardariaa @hornierthanever0 @emyscc @evieeilishh @sophlavasbillie

© verysweetly | all rights reserved.

[astr0n0my-e1l1sh]

how tf is shakesphere still alive?? @verysweetly

[verysweetly]

- 𝒫ink letters [b.e]

˒˒ masterlist.

𑅞 chapter eight : 𝓝othing left. 𑅕

the ringing in billie’s ears didn’t stop when she got into her truck. it didn't stop when she threw the vehicle into reverse, spraying wet gravel against the frat house foundation, or when she tore down the dark campus streets, completely blind to the speed limit.

the drive to your apartment was a blur of streetlights and freezing sweat. her hands were shaking so violently against the steering wheel that the plastic creaked under her grip. through the thick fabric of her jacket, she could feel the faint, stiff edges of the pink envelopes pressing against her ribs.

the same letters that made her feel like the luckiest person alive twenty four hours ago.

now feeling heavier than bricks.

when she reached your building, she didn’t use the elevator. she took the stairs two at a time, her heavy boots slamming against the concrete, her lungs burning from the cold air she’d swallowed on the way in. by the time she stood in front of your door, the frantic adrenaline had begun to curdle into a sick, hollow dread.

she knocked. once. twice.

the silence that followed was louder than the music she had just left behind.

then, the lock clicked.

the door swung open, but only halfway. you were standing there in a faded, oversized t-shirt and flannel pajama pants, looking like you had just been drifting off to sleep. your hair was slightly messy, the way it always got when you spent too long leaning your head against your hand while reading. but your face was entirely empty. your phone was face down on the small console table behind you.

billie’s throat locked up. all the rehearsed explanations, the desperate lies, the frantic apologies she had practiced during the three minute drive? they all evaporated.

you looked at her for a long, agonizing moment. your eyes didn't look angry. they just looked tired.

"did you laugh when you read it?"

the question was quiet. it didn't have the sharp edge of an accusation. it was just a soft, devastating inquiry.

billie froze. the air in her chest turned to absolute ice. she wanted to scream no, she wanted to pull the letters out of her inner pocket and force you to see how safely they were tucked away next to her heart.

but she couldn't speak. her lips parted, but no sound came out. and in that microsecond of hesitation, the truth hung between them like a physical weight. you watched the panic skip across her features, watched the way her jaw trembled, and you saw the answer she couldn't bring herself to voice.

you quietly said, "okay."

"no—wait, please," billie choked out, the sudden use of her voice sounding foreign and unrefined in the quiet hallway. she took a half step forward, her hand reaching out instinctively before dropping back to her side. "it wasn't like that. i swear to god, it wasn't like that."

"then what was it like?"

your voice remained steady, flat, and entirely devoid of heat.

billie opened her mouth to answer, but the words died on her tongue. she realized, with a sickening lurch of her stomach, that she was digging herself into a hole she couldn't climb out of. because how could she explain it? how could she tell you that the bet was real? that she had accepted it? that she had kept the game going even after she started falling for you?

how could she explain that she had held your most vulnerable thoughts up in the air like a trophy for five seconds, just because a drunk guy in a sideways snapback had wounded her pride?

there was no defense. there was no misunderstanding. the absence of your anger was worse than any screaming match she had ever prepared for. it felt like being systematically dismantled in a soundproof room.

as the silence stretched, the memory of the words inside her pocket began to curdle. they became unbearable. every line she had memorized on that porch started sounding like a direct accusation echoing in her head.

‧₊ i trust you. ࣪ ˖

a sharp, physical twist in her gut.

‧₊ you make me feel safe. ࣪ ˖

worse. a sickening realization of exactly what she had broken.

‧₊ i like who i am around you. ࣪ ˖

a total, devastating nuclear strike to whatever shred of pride she had left.

"i just..." billie’s voice cracked, her tough exterior completely shattering, leaving her looking small despite her large frame. "i was drunk, i didn't mean—"

"i spent three hours writing those."

the sentence cut through her clumsy explanation with the clean, quiet precision of a blade.

billie stopped breathing. her chest felt tight, the vintage jersey suddenly suffocating her. the memory of the pink paper, the loopy handwriting, and the soft smell of vanilla that clung to the envelopes flashed through her mind. three hours. you had sat in your room, thinking about her, carefully choosing the words to tell her she made the noise in your head go away.

"you did?" billie whispered.

it was the weakest, most pathetic thing she had ever said. it carried the weight of a total collapse.

you didn't answer. you didn't need to. you just looked at her, and for the first time, a small flick of grief passed through your eyes before your face settled back into that terrifyingly calm mask.

"i think you should go home," you said softly.

"please, just let me—" billie begged, her eyes stinging as the first hot tear finally spilled over her lower lash line, cutting a path through the cold sweat on her cheek. "i didn’t even take the money, let me explain. i'll do whatever you want, just don't—"

"goodnight, billie."

you didn't slam the door.

a slammed door would have meant there was still passion left to burn. it would have meant there was a fight to be had, an argument to win, a reaction to react to.

instead, you just stepped back. the door moved slowly, smoothly, guided by your hand until it clicked softly into the frame.

the lock turned.

and billie was left standing alone in the dimly lit hallway, staring at the cold, unyielding wood of the door, listening to the quiet fade of your footsteps on the other side until there was nothing left but her own uneven breathing.

taglist : @ellae1l1sh @billiebobasia @byeilish @mscomet @malefantasy23 @billiesf4v @yurihxlic @angelbloodedd @deardariaa @hornierthanever0 @emyscc @evieeilishh @sophlavasbillie

© verysweetly | all rights reserved.

[astr0n0my-e1l1sh]

phenomenal give me another 14 chapters rn

[verysweetly]

- 𝒫ink letters [b.e]

˒˒ masterlist.

𑅞 chapter six : 𝓣oo far gone. 𑅕

the problem with a slow burn is that by the time you realize you’re on fire, there’s absolutely no way to put it out.

by the late weeks of november, billie eilish’s brain had officially been compromised. the external exterior. the heavy vintage sports jerseys, the backwards snapbacks, the sluggish, the casual drawl was still entirely intact, but it was functioning on pure autopilot. underneath the uniform, she was entirely unhinged. her notes app was a disaster zone of unpunctuated thoughts about the specific way your eyes crinkled when you were laughing at her bad driving, and she spent an embarrassing amount of time deliberately keeping her left shoulder completely still whenever you sat next to her, just in case you decided to lean against it again.

she was so deep in the loop that she had completely stopped calculating her moves. the two hundred dollar bet sitting on the frat house kitchen counter hadn’t just become irrelevant. it felt like a radioactive secret from an entirely different lifetime.

and then, on a completely unremarkable tuesday afternoon, you blew her entire world to pieces without even trying.

the campus student union was a chaotic mess of heavy winter coats, freezing slush being tracked across the linoleum, and the aggressive hiss of the espresso machine. billie was sitting at a corner table, her massive frame hunched over a laptop screen displaying a macroeconomics syllabus she had been actively staring at for twenty minutes without reading a single word.

"hey," a soft voice murmured from behind her.

billie blinked, turning her head so fast her backwards cap nearly slipped. you were standing right there, looking ridiculously cozy in a thick, knitted cream scarf that swallowed the lower half of your face. your cheeks were bright pink from the freezing november wind outside, and you were holding two separate, beautifully matching pale pink envelopes in your hands.

the envelopes were distinct crisp, elegant pastel paper where the top flap folded downward into a wide, clean rectangle, looking exactly like a vintage stationery set.

"yo," billie breathed, her voice a low, morning-thick rasp. a slow, cocky smirk automatically tried to form on her lips. "look at you, all bundled up like a marshmallow. what's the play, bro? you got class?"

"i have a seminar in exactly four minutes," you smiled, your voice muffled slightly by the wool of your scarf. you didn't sit down. instead, you casually dropped the two pink envelopes right onto her keyboard, directly over her unfinished essay prompt. "these are for you. don't open them right now, okay? read them later when you actually have a second to breathe. i'll text you when my professor stops talking."

billie stared down at the crisp pink paper resting against her plastic keys. her heart did a sudden, violent, entirely uncoordinated flip against her ribs. "wait, what is this? did i get evicted from the blanket fort?"

"just read them later, eilish," you laughed, leaning down just enough to lightly tap the tip of your gloved finger against the brim of her backwards cap. "see you."

before she could even untangle her hands from the pockets of her oversized jersey, you had already turned around, your boots clicking softly against the floor as you vanished through the heavy glass double doors into the gray afternoon rain.

billie sat entirely paralyzed for three seconds. she looked to the left. she looked to the right. nobody was paying attention to her. with fingers that were suddenly trembling a fraction of an inch, she snatched the two pink envelopes off her keyboard. she wasn't going to wait. there was absolutely zero percent chance she was waiting until later.

she slammed her laptop shut, shoved it into her backpack without even zipping it, and practically bolted out of the student union.

she didn't want to read them in the crowded cafeteria, and she definitely couldn't read them back at the frat house where someone might shout over a solo cup. her legs just moved on pure muscle memory, carrying her across the slick, wet brick paths until she reached the concrete stairwell of the old parking garage behind the athletic complex.

it was her spot. the top floor was completely open to the elements, entirely deserted on a freezing tuesday afternoon. the wind up there was ruthless, whistling through the concrete pillars and carrying the smell of oncoming snow, but billie didn't even notice the cold.

she walked straight to the edge of the concrete ledge, the entire gray, misty campus layout spreading out below her. she dropped her heavy backpack onto the wet ground and pulled the first pale pink envelope from her pocket.

she popped the flap open. inside, the paper was thick and white, covered from top to bottom in your messy, loopy handwriting. there was no fancy intro or anything. it just dove straight into it, and the absolute warmth of it made her throat tight before she even finished the first line.

billie,

you said the other night in the fort that nobody really writes things down for you. i’ve been thinking about that more than i probably should’ve, because it didn’t feel like a random thing to say. it felt like something you’ve just gotten used to believing.

so i guess this is me disagreeing with you.

because you make days feel different. not in a loud way. in a quiet, background way that i only notice when i’m alone again and everything suddenly feels too still. like the world got turned down a notch the moment you leave.

before you showed up, everything was just… schedules. deadlines. noise i could organize. and now even the boring parts don’t feel boring anymore, because i keep catching myself remembering something you said, or something you did, or the way you laugh at your own jokes like you’re in on something the rest of us aren’t.

i don’t think you realize how easy you are to be around. like, actually easy. no effort, no performance, no weird guessing games. just you. and somehow that makes everything else feel lighter.

i like the way you show up to things like you’ve already decided you belong there. i like the way you act like nothing is a big deal, even when you care more than you let on. i like the way you turn normal moments into something i end up remembering later without meaning to.

and i really like that, with you, everything feels a little less loud in my head. like i can just exist without overthinking it for once.

i love the way you exist. and i think you're my favorite person. like every single version of you.

that’s all this is, i guess. just something i wanted you to have, instead of me just thinking it and letting it disappear like i usually do.

also you’re still terrible at driving.

— y/n

billie stood completely frozen against the concrete ledge, the freezing november wind whipping her dark hair across her face, but her skin felt like it was sitting directly in front of a furnace. her lungs completely refused to expand. her eyes ran over the words again and again. i love the way you exist. i think you're my favorite person. like every single version of you.

it was pure, unadulterated. it was so sweet it made her ribs physically ache. it was a level of sincere, gentle adoration that she had never, in her entire eighteen years of life, been handed by another human being.

and then the guilt hit her like a physical brick straight to the sternum.

a sick, heavy wave of nausea twisted her stomach. you wrote this beautiful, heartbreakingly honest letter to the girl who shared her jacket in the rain. you didn't know about the patio. you didn't know about the two hundred dollars. you didn't know that the entire reason she had even approached you in the first place was because of a toxic, stupid joke made over a crushed aluminum cup in a greasy kitchen.

she felt like a literal monster. she was standing on a roof holding your heart in her hands, completely aware that the entire foundation of the structure was built on a lie you had no idea existed.

her phone buzzed violently against her thigh. with shaking fingers, billie pulled it out.

you : professor ended the seminar twenty minutes early because the projector broke!! where are you? are you still at the union?

billie swallowed hard, her jaw clenching as she looked from the screen back to the pink paper. she couldn't go back to the union. she needed to look at you right now, in the open air, away from the static of the campus.

billie : top floor of the athletic parking garage. come up.

ten minutes later, the heavy metal door of the stairwell groaned open.

you stepped out onto the windy, open-air roof, your cream scarf pulled all the way up to your nose, your eyes scanning the empty rows of parking spaces until you spotted her massive, dark silhouette leaning against the ledge.

"billie?" you called out, your voice carrying over the roar of the wind. "why are we up here? it’s literally going to snow in like five minutes, you psycho."

billie turned around slowly. she had already tucked the pink envelopes into the secure, inner zipper pocket of her denim jacket. right over her chest, where she could feel the literal weight of the paper pressing against her skin. she didn't have her usual smug smirk. her blue eyes were incredibly wide, completely dark, and fixed on your face with an intensity that made you stop walking about two feet away from her.

"you read it," you stated softly, a small, sudden flush of nerves hitting your cheeks as you noticed how quiet she was. "was the syntax too bad?"

"y/n," billie said, her voice completely cracking on your name. it was entirely gravelly, stripped bare of any frat boy bravado or casual slang. she stepped forward, closing the remaining distance between you in one heavy stride, her fingers reaching out to instantly grab the edges of your knitted scarf. "are you... are you real? like, actually?"

you blinked, surprised by the raw emotion in her face. "what? yeah, billie, i'm real. i just wanted to write you something nice because you said—"

"shut up," billie whispered, but there was a breathy, completely helpless laugh caught in her throat. "just... stop talking for a second."

she didn't give you a choice. in one fluid, desperate motion, billie leaned down, her hands moving from your scarf to cup the sides of your face, her rings ice cold against your warm skin as she pulled you up into her.

when her lips hit yours, it wasn't like the gentle, cautious shifts of the blanket fort. this was a total, undisguised collision. it was heavy, deep, and completely desperate, her lips moving against yours with a fierce, burning hunger that felt like she was trying to physically memorize the texture of your mouth. she pulled you flush against her chest, her fingers tangling into the back of your hair, her grip so tight you could feel the sharp edges of her silver bands pressing into your scalp.

the wind was howling around the concrete pillars, casting freezing drops of rain across your faces, but the center of the roof was pure heat. you let out a soft, surprised gasp against her mouth, your hands instantly coming up to grip the fabric of her heavy jacket, pulling yourself up on your tiptoes to meet the pressure. billie groaned softly into the kiss, her head tilting to lock her lips deeper against yours, her thumbs tracing violent, adoring lines across your cheekbones.

it was messy, it was breathless, and it tasted faintly of the sweet rose tea and the sharp winter air. there was no timeline, no commitment spoken out loud, no official label dropped onto the concrete floor. it was just a total, uncoordinated surrender to the fact that she was completely, hopelessly down bad.

when she finally pulled back, just an inch, her forehead dropped heavily against yours. her chest was heaving, her blue eyes wide as she stared directly into yours, her breath coming out in ragged, white plumes between your faces. her cheeks were bright, hot pink.

"you're a menace," billie breathed, her voice completely wrecked as she kept her hands securely tangled in your hair. "you write a letter like that and then just walk away to a seminar? i was literally about to have a medical emergency in the union."

you let out a bright, genuine laugh, your hands still resting on her chest, right over the exact pocket where the pink paper was hidden. "i told you to read it later! it's not my fault your impulse control is completely broken, billie."

"my impulse control is fine," billie mumbled, though a small, incredibly soft version of her cocky smirk finally returned to her lips as she leaned down to press a quick, hard kiss to the tip of your cold nose. "a pretty girl gave me a letter, what was i supposed to do? not read it?”

"you're ridiculous," you smiled, burying your face into the front of her jersey to block out the freezing wind.

"yeah, well," billie murmured, her arms wrapping securely around your waist, pulling you into her side as she looked back out over the gray campus layout, her chin resting on the top of your head. "you're the one who wrote the letter to a lawnmower owner, bro. that’s on you."

you chuckled against her chest, completely content, entirely safe under the heavy weight of her arms.

but as billie looked down at the slick brick paths below, her hand unconsciously pressed flat against her jacket pocket, feeling the stiff outline of the pale pink envelopes hidden inside. the warmth of your body against hers felt like the best thing that had ever happened to her, and the absolute certainty that she was going to have to keep this secret forever turned the freezing air around them completely suffocating.

taglist : @ellae1l1sh @billiebobasia @byeilish @mscomet @malefantasy23 @billiesf4v @yurihxlic @angelbloodedd @deardariaa @hornierthanever0 @emyscc @evieeilishh @sophlavasbillie

© verysweetly | all rights reserved.

[astr0n0my-e1l1sh]

just had a very semi long conversation w my crush through instagram 😁😁

[astr0n0my-e1l1sh]

update: the girl i have been secretly in love with added me in her close friends story

[verysweetly]

- 𝒫ink letters [b.e]

˒˒ masterlist.

𑅞 chapter five : 𝓖etting worse. 𑅕

the thing about falling in love in secret was that it turned completely mundane things into high stakes operations.

by the time the third week of november rolled around, billie’s phone was practically a shrine to you. her camera roll was a chaotic mess of blurry screenshots, videos of you trying to explain plot holes in classic literature while aggressively gesturing with a fry, and notes app drafts of things she wanted to tell you but didn’t have the balls to say out loud.

so, when you casually texted her on a friday afternoon asking if she wanted to come over to your apartment for a movie marathon because your roommate was gone for the weekend, billie had spent a solid twenty minutes standing in front of her closet trying to find an outfit that looked completely effortless but still made it impossible for you to look away.

she settled on her most ridiculously oversized vintage jersey, a fresh black cap worn backwards, and a bag containing three different types of spicy snacks, two bottles of rose tea she knew you liked, and the lime green deformed frog she still claimed she was using as a doorstop.

your apartment was exactly like you: warm, smelled faintly of vanilla and cinnamon, and completely filled with that cozy, lived in warmth that billie’s brain had officially coded as home. there were string lights taped along the ceiling molding, casting a soft, amber glow over the small living room, and a stack of old paperbacks piled neatly by the windowsill.

"you're late, eilish," you said the second you opened the door, a small, knowing smile pulling at your lips. you were already wearing a pair of soft gray sweatpants and a thick knitted sweater that swallowed your hands.

"i was securing the assets," billie said smoothly, shoving the bag of snacks and the rose tea into your chest as she stepped inside, kicking her heavy boots off by the door. she reached into her bag and pulled out the deformed frog, placing it carefully on your kitchen counter. "brought the security detail too."

"you still have him?" you laughed, leaning your hip against the counter as you looked at the lopsided green toy. "i thought you said he was a dog toy."

"he's a premium artifact, don't disrespect his journey," billie mumbled, her face warming up instantly as she walked over to the living room floor.

you hadn't just cleared off the couch. you had completely dismantled the entire living room. every single pillow from your bedroom, three different fuzzy blankets, and a massive, heavy duvet were spread across the carpet, framed by the low coffee table to create a massive, structural blanket fort.

"did you... engineer a fortress?" billie asked, her blue eyes wide as she looked down at the setup.

"i was stressed," you admitted, walking over and dropping cross legged into the center of the blankets. "and the architecture of a blanket fort is a proven stress reliever. now sit down. we have six hours of cinematic garbage to get through."

billie slid into the fort next to you, her giant frame taking up a significant amount of the space. the ceiling of the fort was low, made of a white sheet draped over the couch cushions, creating an incredibly small, suffocatingly intimate pocket of reality. the ambient string lights shone through the thin fabric, illuminating your face in a way that made billie forget how to form coherent sentences for a solid ten seconds.

"word," billie choked out, leaning her back against the base of the couch. "this is... cozy, bro. very elite."

by 10:00 pm, the empty cardboard box of a greasy pepperoni pizza was pushed against the coffee table, and the third terrible horror movie of the night was playing at a low volume on the tv screen. neither of you were actually watching it.

instead, you were lying flat on your stomachs, your elbows propped up on a giant pillow, barely three inches apart as you played a stupid, improvised game to pass the time.

"okay, my turn," you said, licking a bit of grease from your thumb before sticking a square pink post it note directly onto billie’s forehead. you had written a word on it, and she had to guess what it was. "go. ask your questions."

billie squinted, her eyes straining to look upward at the pink paper stuck to her skin, making her look entirely ridiculous. her backwards cap was tossed to the corner of the fort, her dark hair messy and falling into her face.

"am i a person?" billie asked, her voice dropping into that low, lazy drawl.

"no," you grinned, leaning your chin on your folded hands, your eyes tracking the way her forehead crinkled.

"am i an animal?"

"technically, yes."

"am i smooth? elite? a five star experience?" billie smirked, tilting her head lower, her blue eyes locking onto yours with that familiar, cocky intensity she used to protect herself.

"you are none of those things," you deadpan, a mischievous spark in your eyes. "in fact, you sound like a metal trash can full of wrenches being kicked down a flight of stairs."

billie gasped, her jaw dropping as she reached up to yank the post it note off her forehead. she looked at the paper. in neat, looping handwriting, you had written: lawnmower.

"the disrespect is actually criminal," billie groaned, rolling over onto her back, covering her face with her hands as that genuine, uncontrollable fit of giggles took over her chest. "i am a beautiful creature, y/n. my car has character. it has a soul."

"your car needs an exorcism," you wheezed, rolling over onto your side to face her, your shoulder pressing against her arm. your laughter was soft, filling the quiet space of the blanket fort like warmth.

billie dropped her hands from her face, turning her head sideways to look at you.

the laughter slowly died down between you, replaced by a sudden, heavy silence that felt entirely different from the awkwardness of the campus quad. it was thick, sweet, and terrifyingly close. you were looking at her with an expression that wasn't guarded or polite anymore. it was soft, your eyes scanning her face under the amber lights, your breathing even and calm.

billie felt her heart thump a heavy, painful rhythm against her ribs. she could see the tiny freckles on the bridge of your nose. she could see the exact shade of your eyes. she wanted, with a desperation that physically ached in her throat, to reach out and pull you into her chest. she wanted to tell you everything. she wanted to tell you about the stupid two hundred dollars, about how much she hated her friends' voices in the kitchen, about how she hadn't slept a full night since the patio incident because her brain was too busy looping your laugh.

instead, she just reached out, her fingers catching the edge of the blanket between you, pulling it up slightly.

"you're getting cold," billie murmured, her voice entirely gravelly, stripped of any frat boy bravado.

"i'm fine," you whispered, but you didn't move away. you shifted just a fraction closer, your hand settling on the carpet right next to her fingers, your knuckles barely brushing against her silver rings.

the silence between you was thick, the kind of quiet that felt safe enough to drop all guards.

"my brother wrote a song about a girl once," billie said suddenly, her deep voice a low, raspy rumble in the quiet room. she didn't turn her head, her gaze still fixed on the ceiling. "like, a proper, heavy track. everyone heard it. the whole world knew exactly how he felt about her."

"that sounds intense," you murmured, shifting your head to look at her sharp profile in the dim light. "did you like it?"

"it was cool, i guess," billie shrugged, her fingers twitching slightly inside her pockets. she went quiet for a moment, her jaw clenching slightly before she let out a slow, breathy exhale. "i don't know. i just... nobody ever did that for me. not like that. it’s always just been lazy texts or people trying to be smooth at parties because they think it works. i’ve never... i’ve never actually gotten a love letter. like, a real, physical piece of paper where someone took the time to write things down."

you looked at her for a long second, noting the slight, uncharacteristic vulnerability in her tone. it was a rare glimpse behind the curtain of the untouchable campus skater boy.

"maybe you just haven't given anyone a reason to write one yet," you teased softly, nudging her side with your knee.

"probably," billie muttered, a familiar, faint smirk returning to her lips as she pulled the blanket higher around your shoulders. "i'm a tough critic, bro. its gotta be perfect."

by 2:00 am, the tv had gone black, the only light remaining coming from the string lights outside the fort.

you had finally lost the battle with exhaustion. your head had dropped onto the giant pillow, your eyes closed, your breathing slowing into the deep, rhythmic pattern of deep sleep. you had curled into a tiny ball under the heavy duvet, your hands tucked beneath your chin.

billie didn't move. she lay flat on her back next to you, her hands shoved into the front pocket of her jersey, staring up at the white sheet ceiling of the fort.

the quiet of the apartment was deafening. every few minutes, the low hum of the refrigerator would kick on, or a car would drive past the street outside, its headlights casting long, moving shadows through the windows.

slowly, billie turned her head to look at you.

you looked so peaceful. completely defenseless, trusting her enough to fall asleep right next to her in an empty apartment. the realization hit billie like a physical blow to the stomach, a sick, heavy wave of guilt and adoration mixing together until she felt like she couldn't breathe.

i'm so fucked, she thought, her jaw clenching as she reached out, her hand hovering over your shoulder before dropping uselessly back to the blanket. i am so completely, utterly fucked.

she thought about the guys at the house. she thought about the smug looks, the betting pool, the toxic, stupid game she had agreed to play because her ego was too big for her own good. if you ever found out, if someone dropped it at a party, if one of her nameless friends let it slip over a solo cup you would look at her with those cold, ice queen eyes again. but it wouldn't be because you were detached. it would be because she broke something real.

billie reached out, her fingers trembling just a fraction as she carefully took her giant, heavy gray thrasher hoodie -the one she had managed to sneak into her bag- and gently spread it over your shivering shoulders, tucking the soft fabric around your neck like a second blanket.

she lay back down, her eyes fixed on the tiny amber lights above her, her heart heavy as she listened to the slow, steady sound of your breathing until the sky outside the window began to turn a pale, dusty blue.

the smell of coffee and the bright, unforgiving morning sun cutting through the living room blinds woke you up at 9:00 am.

you blinked against the light, shifting your weight, and instantly noticed how heavy and warm you felt. you looked down. you weren't just under the duvet anymore. you were completely engulfed in a massive, gray cotton hoodie that smelled intensely of cedarwood, old fabric softener, and billie.

you sat up, the fabric pooling around your waist, and peeked out of the blanket fort.

billie was standing by your small kitchen counter, her backwards cap back on her head, aggressively trying to untangle the cord of your coffee pot. she looked completely exhausted, dark circles under her eyes, but she was forcing an unbothered, nonchalant posture as she heard the blankets rustle.

she turned around, a slow, cocky smirk instantly sliding onto her face, though it didn't quite reach her tired blue eyes.

"morning, sleepyhead," billie chuckled, leaning her hip against the counter, her hands shoved deep into her pockets. "look at you. waking up in the premium merch. i see how it is."

you pulled the collar of the heavy gray hoodie up over your nose, looking at her over the rim of the fabric with an amused, suspicious expression. "billie. how did i get into this? i remember falling asleep under the duvet."

billie didn't even blink. she shrugged one shoulder, looking away toward the coffee pot with absolute, unearned confidence.

"i don't know what to tell you, bro," billie said smoothly, her voice a low morning rasp. "the hoodie works in mysterious ways. it’s a sentient entity. it probably just crawled over to you because it recognized a beautiful creature in need of insulation. don't question the magic."

you let out a loud, morning thick laugh, the sound bright and real as you crawled out of the fort, "you are such a liar,"

"i'm a scientist," she corrected automatically, turning back to the counter to hide the sudden, massive blush that was spreading across her cheeks. "now sit down. i'm making you the premium masterclass coffee. it’s probably gonna taste like dirt, but it’s the thought that counts."

you sat at the small kitchen table, the heavy gray sleeves resting on the wood, watching her back as she moved around your kitchen. the lopsided green frog was still sitting on the counter, its bulging eyes staring blankly at the wall, and for the first time since the patio night, the silence in the room felt entirely, beautifully safe.

but as billie handed you a mug, her rings clinking against the ceramic, her eyes caught yours for a split second. the quiet, heavy intensity in her gaze told you everything you needed to know.. whatever this was between you now, it was getting terrifyingly real.

taglist : @ellae1l1sh @billiebobasia @byeilish @mscomet @malefantasy23 @billiesf4v @yurihxlic @angelbloodedd @deardariaa @hornierthanever0 @emyscc @evieeilishh @sophlavasbillie

© verysweetly | all rights reserved.

[astr0n0my-e1l1sh]

angelina

sypnosis: after breaking up with your girlfriend of 6 years, you move on but she is still everywhere you look.

Now Playing Angelina by Lizzy Mcalpine

After Billie left it was a struggle. Somedays I couldn’t get up. It hurt so bad. Someone I gave all your years, memories, and time. Someone who saw you at your worst and best. God I tried to move on, I really did. But it was hard to do.

For a time I stopped eating, contacting, sleeping, and doing what I loved. But I eventually got better with time. It took a lot of that. Within that time I found myself again. Even after I did there was this pit of nothingness in my heart that Billie left. She never stated why she left, Billie just said it was clear that we weren’t good for each other anymore.

We were talking about marriage only a few days before she made us split. A marriage that will now only happen in the back of my mind.

Thankfully, I found someone else. But she wasn’t Billie. No one could be. The girl I found, Cierra, was everything thing I needed. She was patient, loved me, and showed it, and has dropping hints about moving in together. So we did.

As I was packing my stuff, I had to go through old boxes of clothing shoved up my closet. Slowly I started looking through them, but slower once I started to see Billie’s old stuff, all of the things she gave me over the six years we were together. From hoodies to promise rings to smudged ink letters written on napkins from early mornings before she went to the studio.

Cierra never did those letters for me.

But she would also never leave me just because.

I found myself lying on the floor, not packing, but looking at Billie’s instagram. She looks so happy. How could she be that happy? I haven’t seen her smile like that 3 years before we broke up.

How I wish I could see her smile like that one more time.

A/N small thing only because i needed to write. i am done w finals and I’m on summer break so i will be posting more often!

[astr0n0my-e1l1sh]

One Shot m.list

angelina

sypnosis: after breaking up with your girlfriend of 6 years, you move on but she is still everywhere you look.

[astr0n0my-e1l1sh]

angelina

sypnosis: after breaking up with your girlfriend of 6 years, you move on but she is still everywhere you look.

Now Playing Angelina by Lizzy Mcalpine

After Billie left it was a struggle. Somedays I couldn’t get up. It hurt so bad. Someone I gave all your years, memories, and time. Someone who saw you at your worst and best. God I tried to move on, I really did. But it was hard to do.

For a time I stopped eating, contacting, sleeping, and doing what I loved. But I eventually got better with time. It took a lot of that. Within that time I found myself again. Even after I did there was this pit of nothingness in my heart that Billie left. She never stated why she left, Billie just said it was clear that we weren’t good for each other anymore.

We were talking about marriage only a few days before she made us split. A marriage that will now only happen in the back of my mind.

Thankfully, I found someone else. But she wasn’t Billie. No one could be. The girl I found, Cierra, was everything thing I needed. She was patient, loved me, and showed it, and has dropping hints about moving in together. So we did.

As I was packing my stuff, I had to go through old boxes of clothing shoved up my closet. Slowly I started looking through them, but slower once I started to see Billie’s old stuff, all of the things she gave me over the six years we were together. From hoodies to promise rings to smudged ink letters written on napkins from early mornings before she went to the studio.

Cierra never did those letters for me.

But she would also never leave me just because.

I found myself lying on the floor, not packing, but looking at Billie’s instagram. She looks so happy. How could she be that happy? I haven’t seen her smile like that 3 years before we broke up.

How I wish I could see her smile like that one more time.

A/N small thing only because i needed to write. i am done w finals and I’m on summer break so i will be posting more often!

[astr0n0my-e1l1sh]

sneak peak if what i’m working on 😁

[allyeilishh]

WE OUT

[sepiastatic]

𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ... ℬ𝒾𝓁𝓁𝒾ℯ ℯ𝒾𝓁𝒾𝓈𝒽

𝓈𝓎𝓃ℴ𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈： you are the introverted one in the relationship, and billie was always trying to change that. she eventually accidentally embarrasses you in front of her celebrity friends.

warnings : use of yn SAWRY, billie x shy!reader, rude billie (this is a smau.)

ˊ ꪆৎ ݁ 𝓪uthor 𝓷ote ⦂ using smaus to get rid of the pain and stress of my speech tmrw .. ahaha wish me luck