35 + 60 from the smut prompts for billie? pretty please 🫦
✰ if you moan louder, I'll fuck you harder — billie eilish
35. getting a little too handsy on the dancefloor 60. fucking in the bar bathroom and being too drunk to care about being quiet
✰ a/n: also there's a slight mention of g!p billie but there's no interaction with P involved!
you weren’t even drunk when she pressed up behind you on the dance floor. just warm with wine and heady off the bass, hips moving easy to the beat. her hands found your waist like she’d done it a hundred times before—fingers splayed, possessive, tugging you back against her.
“missed you,” she mumbled, breath wet against your ear. the press of her chest to your back, the slow roll of her hips behind yours—she was not subtle. not tonight.
you turned your head, just enough to catch the edge of her grin. she looked lit-up and dangerous, bottom lip split from her teeth, glitter smeared under her eyes like warpaint.
“shh.” her mouth brushed your neck. “just wanna feel.”
her hands slipped lower. under your skirt.
"billie—" you hissed, startled.
and she did. right there in the middle of the bar, behind the bodies and thrum of music, her fingers pushing up under your panties like it was nothing. you gasped, face burning, but didn’t stop her—how could you? not when she found that spot so fast, slow little circles over your clit that made your knees shake.
you could barely keep dancing. barely stand.
"fuck," you breathed, eyes fluttering shut. her hand stilled. “bathroom. now.”
you barely made it.
the second the door slammed shut, she was on you—hands, mouth, breathless giggles breaking into low groans. you kissed like you were starving. teeth clacking, tongues messy, needy. she spun you, shoved you up against the sink, your ass hitting cold porcelain as her hands shoved your skirt up.
“you’re so wet already,” she murmured, voice hoarse. her fingers grazed your thighs, teasing. “all that from just a little touching on the floor?”
and then she was inside—two fingers, deep and slow, fucking you open against the sink while her other hand gripped your jaw.
you nodded, panting, whining when she didn’t move faster.
“mm,” she smirked, pulling your panties to the side. “then i really wanna see what this does to you.”
“look at me,” she growled. “hear that?” she husked out and you stayed quiet for a moment, listening as the wet sounds of your cunt filled the small bathroom, bouncing off the walls and sneaking back into your ears with each pump of her fingers.
it made you moan. you made yourself moan, you couldn't deny that the sound was so fucking hot. your eyes darted around the bathroom. it's exactly what you'd expect it to be. graffiti on the tile walls, some with markers and others with spray cans. a door was missing from one stall, the corner of the sink was chipped, the mirror was filthy. the lights flickered. and you didn’t care.
all your sounds filled billie's head, clouding and pushing out all and every coherent thought, too loud, too desperate—but you couldn’t help it. not when she curled her fingers just right, not when she pressed her thigh between your legs to keep you open, not when she leaned in and bit your neck, soft then hard.
“if you moan louder,” she breathed, lips brushing your jaw, “i'll fuck you harder.”
and you did.
god—you did.
basically because you couldn't care less about anyone hearing you or walking in, especially because the music was loud as fuck, and there were just thousands of people you couldn't even bother to know.
your head fell forward into her exposed chest, the smell of sweat and sugary alcohol filling your nostrils. your breath hitched as billie’s fingers moved faster, curling inside you, every flick making your body shudder. her thigh pressed tighter between your legs, anchoring you to her. you could feel the pulse of her cock against your hip, hard and unforgiving, teasing you with what was to come.
"billie—.." you whined, the knot in your stomach feeling bigger and tighter with each brush of her fingers against your gummy walls.
"hm? gunna cum f'me, baby?" she murmured, there was a faux kind of softness in her voice, a mocking tone as she pressed harder inside you.
you whimpered, head resting against her collarbone, the rhythm of her fingers and the pounding in your chest syncing up in a wild, desperate dance. her hand slid down to your jaw again, thumb brushing your cheek as if to steady you, though you both knew it was anything but calm.
"please—... need it" you began "need it s'bad, bils" you babbled against her chest, even leaving wet, filthy kisses on her skin in your dazed state.
she groaned, voice ragged and thick with need. “come for me. let me hear it.”
your breath hitched, vision blurring as your body tensed, trembling with the weight of the build-up. your hands clawed at her back, nails digging into skin, desperate to hold on as your muscles clenched around her.
“billie—i’m—” you choked on a moan, voice breaking, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as heat crashed through you in waves, each one hotter, deeper, until you couldn’t tell where your skin ended and hers began.
“yeah, that’s it,” she whispered, voice rough but gentle, mouth pressing soft kisses along your jaw, “come all over my fingers. only for me.”
your legs shook, your body shuddered, and you fell forward, breathless and spent, resting against her as the aftershocks rippled through you.
billie held you close, her own breaths shaky, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “fuck, you’re mine,” she murmured.
"you sound oddly proud of that" you panted, gazing up at her as she gently fixed your skirt after wiping you with some paper towels.
billie's smile grew and she looked down at you. "shouldn't i be?"
smth quick bc I keep forgetting to write for you guys 😞
Your mom was downstairs, chatting away with her friends. She didn’t seem to notice how Billie was taking an extra long bathroom break. She had just assumed she had ate something bad.
Only that Billie didn’t eat something bad. She was kneeling at the foot of your bed, her head between your thighs. Making you moan out, crying desperately for more of her relentless tongue.
You knew it was wrong. She was so much older, and you were on summer break from your college classes. You had just turned 21 last year. Billie was almost 47. 26 years between you two. She had kids that were older than you.
But even so, your hands gripped at her black hair, slowly beginning to mix with grey, trying to keep your moans quiet as her fingers pumped in and out of your puffy cunt, thighs shaking around her head.
The door was wide open. You had tried to tell Billie to close it—but all you got was a smirk, and her telling you, ‘nothings fun if it isn’t risky.’
So, your free hand that wasn’t in Billie’s hair covered your mouth, hips twitching up into her mouth.
“You look so good, baby. So good for me. Have you been waiting for me?” She teased, flicking her tongue against your clit.
You almost let out a whimper, your entire body seizing against her relentless mouth. “Yes—fuck, I was waiting for you—please don’t stop,” You whispered, gripping onto her hair tighter as you felt your climax quickly approaching.
Her fingers worked faster, curling deeply inside of you, making you see stars. You let a small whine slip, and one last flick of her tongue on your clit made everything fall apart.
You gasped, entire body tensing as your release crashed over you, mouth open in a silent scream. Billie only stared up at you, smirking against your cunt, helping you ride it out.
Once you came down, Billie pulled away, sucking her fingers. She then wiped them on her pant leg, smirking down at you.
“Your mom wants you to go do the dishes.” Billie teased.
Billie was always that friend. You know the one—the touchy, flirty, effortlessly charming type who could hug someone out of nowhere or plant a cheeky kiss on someone’s forehead, leaving everyone in a daze while she just smirked and walked away. It wasn’t like she was trying to make people fall for her (not on purpose, anyway); it was just her way. She was warm, tactile, and confident in a way that made her magnetic to everyone she met.
But recently, Billie’s affectionate attention had shifted… to you.
It started subtle at first: a lingering hug when she arrived at hangouts, an arm slung casually around your shoulder during movie nights, or a playful nudge followed by that signature smirk of hers. Slowly but surely, it became more frequent. A kiss on the cheek when she said goodbye. Her legs draped over yours when you sat next to each other on the couch. Fingers tracing lightly over your arm as she teased you about something innocuous.
You tried not to read into it. After all, Billie was like this with everyone…. right? It was just her personality. But, it was becoming harder to ignore the butterflies that swarmed in your stomach every time she hugged you or the way your face flushed when she leaned close, her voice low and playful as she called you a sweet nickname.
Like tonight.
The group had decided on a cozy night in at your place, and Billie had shown up fashionably late, as usual. The second she walked in the door, she zeroed in on you, her eyes lighting up in that familiar way that made your heart skip a beat.
“Hey pretty girl,” she said, smirking as she opened her arms wide.
You tried to play it cool, but there was no stopping the flush that crept up your neck as you stood up to greet her. “Hi, Billie.”
She pulled you into a hug, her arms wrapping tightly around you as if she hadn’t seen you in years instead of just a few days. Her cheek brushed against yours, and you could smell her cologne—a warm, woodsy scent that made your knees feel weak. It mixed with the sweet citrusy, floral perfume you had on, one Billie was starting to fall for.
“You smell so good, peach,” she murmured, her nose grazing your jaw, before pressing a quick kiss there.
You laughed nervously, hoping she couldn’t feel how fast your heart was pounding. “Uh, thanks. You, too.”
When she finally let go, she kept an arm around your shoulder, guiding you back to the couch where the rest of your friends were lounging. She plopped down beside you, her leg immediately brushing against yours, and you had to fight the urge to scoot away. Not because you didn’t like it—God, you loved it—but because you were terrified she’d notice how much her touch affected you.
The night went on, with the group laughing and chatting as Billie’s presence remained firmly anchored to your side. At one point, she stretched out on the couch, her head resting comfortably on your lap. She looked up at you with a lazy smile, her blue eyes glinting mischievously.
“Comfy?” you asked giggling, but trying to sound nonchalant.
“Very,” she said, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “You make a great pillow, babe,” she added before sending you a wink.
Your cheeks burned, but you managed a soft laugh. “Glad I could help.”
She stayed there for the better part of an hour, her fingers occasionally grazing your knee or tracing absentminded patterns on your hand. You tried to focus on the conversation around you, but all you could think about was how close she was, how warm her body felt against yours, and how much you didn’t want her to move.
Eventually, the group decided to watch a movie. The lights were dimmed, and everyone else settled into their usual spots, with Billie predictably sticking to you like glue. This time, she sat up and pulled you over to sit in her lap with your back to her front, her arm draped over your waist as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Your breath hitched as she set her chin on your shoulder, nose brushing your cheek.
“You comfy, mama?” she murmured, her breath tickling your ear.
“Yeah,” you whispered back, hoping she couldn’t hear the slight tremor in your voice.
You could hear her smirk in her low hum, pressing a kiss to your hair, her arms tightening around your waist.
As the movie played on, you found yourself hyper-aware of every little movement she made—the way her chest rose and fell against your back, the way her hand occasionally squeezed your hip when something funny happened on screen, the way her laugh vibrated in you every time she giggled, whispering little cheeky add-ons into your ear. By the time the credits rolled, your head was spinning, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep pretending you were unaffected by her touch.
When the night finally wound down and your friends started trickling out the door, Billie lingered behind, helping you clean up. She didn’t say much at first, just quietly gathering empty cups and plates while you tried to steady your nerves.
“Thank you or staying to help Bills. You really don’t have to,” you said, breaking the silence.
She shrugged, flashing you a lopsided grin. “It’s no problem. Aything for you, angel.”
There it was again—that playful, flirtatious tone that always seemed to leave you breathless. You turned and busied yourself with stacking plates and setting dishes in the sink, hoping she wouldn’t notice the way your hands were shaking.
As she finished tying up the last garbage bag and set it down, she looked over at you with a curious look in her eyes.
“You’ve been quiet tonight. You’re usually so bubbly and giggly,” she said, stepping closer, leaning on the opposite side of the kitchen counter “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” you said a little too quickly, avoiding her gaze.
She tilted her head, her eyes narrowing slightly. “You sure? You’re not mad at me or something, are you?”
“What? Oh my gosh no, of course I’m not mad at you,” you said, finally meeting her eyes.
Her expression softened and she let out a sigh of relief while she walked around to be closer to you. “Thank God. I’d hate to think I did something to upset you, baby,” she said, while reaching up to cup your flushed cheeks.
You swallowed hard, your heart racing as her fingers lingered against your cheek. “You didn’t.”
She smiled, her thumb grazing your cheekbone. “You’re so cute when you blush, you know that?”
“Please, I am not blushing,” you scoffed playfully.
“Oh you so are,” she said, her grin widening. “And I think you know it, cutie,” she whispered directly into your ear.
You opened your mouth to protest, but the words caught in your throat as she leaned back a bit, her blue eyes locked on yours. For a moment, you thought she was going to kiss you, but instead, she pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, her lips lingering just long enough to leave you breathless.
“Goodnight, peach,” she murmured, her voice low and warm.
And with that, she turned and walked out the door, but not without turning around again to send a wink your way before closing the door, leaving you standing there, your cheeks burning and your heart pounding as you wondered if she knew exactly what she was doing to you.
And as Billie walked down the hallway further away from your apartment, her smirk only grew.
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.
a/n: yay spiderillie!! before i wrote anything of length i wanted to put out some headcanons! i hope you like em ♥️🕸️🕷️
billie o'connell who loves and craves academic validation. she may try to act cool, but she loves to put her all into her work for the big payoff. best science fair project? a trophy for her wall. best grades for the school year? a medallion to hang on her door hook. amazing work ethic? high marks and large complements from her teachers to stroke her ego.
billie o'connell who is just the cutest nerd and has the biggest crush on you. when you aren’t looking, she analyzes and admires you in every aspect. the way your hair falls over your shoulder, how your eyes crinkle at the edges when you smile, and how those jeans fit you just right.
billie o'connell who loves photography and has an internship with her local student paper, ‘the beacon’. but her favorite picture she took wasn’t one that was put in the paper...
“okay.” billie said, letting out a breath as she lowered the camera to look through the dozens of photos she’d already taken. most of them were just different shots of the pier. different angles. different lighting. the same pictures basically.
“i’ve taken, like, a hundred pictures of this thing already. maybe i should get some from the side?” she looked over at you for guidance.
you nodded immediately, leaning against the railing and pointing toward the ocean in the distance. “get one of these waves in the shot,” you suggested. “it’d look so pretty.” billie lifted the camera, following your finger. but somewhere between ocean and the pier, her attention drifted. the viewfinder landed on you instead.
you stood with your arms crossed against the wooden railing, looking out over the sea completely unaware. the breeze pushed strands of hair across your face. the late afternoon sun caught the edges of your silhouette, turning everything gold. billie paused. then she pressed the shutter.
click.
you glanced over at the sound. “did you get it?” a smile tugged at billie’s mouth as she lowered the camera. “yeah,” she said. “something pretty.”
“good,” you replied, turning back toward the water. billie didn’t tell you she hadn’t been talking about the sea. later that night, after she got home and uploaded the photos to her computer, she found herself stopping on that picture.
the pier wasn’t centered. the ocean waves were barely in frame. objectively, it wasn’t even close to the best photograph she’d taken all day. she still couldn’t stop looking at it. after a moment, she right-clicked the image and set it as the lock screen on her work computer.
billie o'connell whose camera roll is 40% blurry science experiments from her prototype web fluid, 30% screenshots from instagram she’ll never look at again, and 30% photos of her friends and city skylines.
billie o'connell who is a stellar student and regularly tutors students. her one academic flaw? she acts confident about helping everyone else but struggles to ask for help herself.
billie o'connell who, more than anything, wants the people she loves to be safe, even if it means carrying things alone.
billie o'connell who the day she was bitten, walked the quiet streets of highland park with her headphones on, rap music humming in her ears as the late afternoon sun warmed the pavement beneath her feet.
after being sent out on a grocery run, she stopped by the local farmers market, weaving between vendors and grabbing a few vegetables and pieces of fruit for dinner.
as she reached for a bag of tomatoes, a small radioactive spider crawled unnoticed up the side of a produce crate. it skittered across the paper bag in her hand and onto her fingers.
before billie could react, a sharp sting shot through her skin. “ow, the fuck?!” she jerked her hand back and smacked at it instinctively. the spider flew off into the crowd and disappeared beneath a nearby table. she muttered, rubbing the spot with her thumb. it hurt for a second, but not enough to worry about. after all, it was just a spider bite, right?
billie grabbed the rest of her groceries and continued through the market, completely unaware that her life had just changed forever.
billie o'connell who constantly worries about revealing her identity to anyone except you and keeps herself quiet. but if you ask one question about spiders, engineering, physics, chemistry, or web fluid, suddenly she’s pacing around her room talking for twenty minutes straight.
billie o'connell who absolutely abuses her wall-crawling powers at home. why walk downstairs when you can crawl across the ceiling and drop into the kitchen?
billie o'connell who spends hours modifying her web shooters and suit tech because she aims for perfection.
billie o'connell who sings by day and web-slings by night.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✭・゜・。.
spiderillie who instead of nonstop quips, would mostly stare at villains like they’re inconveniencing her. the occasional joke would land harder though because she barely makes them.
spiderillie whose suit is oversized, practical, and intentionally intimidating rather than sleek and traditional. her orange-based suit wouldn’t be complete without her backwards hat to hide her red roots, an oversized sports jersey, baggy shorts, fingerless gloves to cover her web shooters, and her favorite pair of jordan 4s.
spiderillie who has playlists for every patrol route. she purposefully built a mask with bone conducting earbuds that way she could listen, but always be aware. it’s laughable how many times billie fought criminals to a song off of justin bieber’s ‘journals’ or something by green day.
spiderillie who loves to decompress by swinging around the city at night. she loves to hear the bustle of los angeles, but her favorite thing to do is swing by her hometown pop shop to grab her favorite drink at the moment before getting right back out there.
the pop shop's nostalgic bell chimed overhead as spider-woman stepped inside. the small store was packed wall-to-wall with colorful glass bottles, rows of sodas stretching from floor to ceiling. boxes of candy lined the aisles, and the familiar scent of sugar and old wood hung comfortably in the air.
“coming for your usual?” mr. pete called from behind the register. the old shop owner looked up from his newspaper with a warm smile, one he'd worn nearly every time she'd stopped by. “you know it, mr. p.” billie said, glancing across the shelves. “you still got that lime soda i like?” he nodded and shot her a wink. “wouldn't dream of getting rid of it.”
“good.” she spotted the familiar green bottle tucked between two others. “ah. found it.” she grabbed it and made her way toward the register, already reaching for the few crumpled bills she'd stuffed into her pocket earlier. before she could set them down, mr. pete held up a hand.
“nope.”
“mr. p—”
“nope.”
“c'mon.”
“absolutely not.”
spider-woman sighed dramatically, shoulders dropping. “you know i'm trying to be a responsible, tax-paying citizen.” she said, trying to convince the man. “and i'm trying to thank the person who stopped my store from getting robbed three months ago.” the web-slinger sighed and threw up her hands. “that was my job.”
“and this is mine.” before she could protest again, he pointed a finger at her. “don't argue with an old man.” she laughed softly beneath the mask. mr. pete's expression softned. “i mean it, kid. it's on the house.” he nodded toward the bottle in her hand. “you spend every day looking after this city. let us look after you every once in a while.”
for a moment, billie was quiet. people thanked her all the time. shouted it from sidewalks. posted it online. waved when she swung overhead. but somehow hearing it like this felt different. more real. more personal. “thanks, mr. p,” she said quietly. “anytime.”
she gave him a small wave before pushing back through the door. the bell chimed behind her as the afternoon sun greeted her once again. a second later, a web shot from her wrist. she swung into the los angeles skyline with a smile hidden beneath her mask. the city below buzzed with life. and for the first time all day, she felt a little lighter.
spiderillie who puts her family and your well being before everything, even her own. she will go to her wits end to make sure you all stay safe, no questions asked and with zero hesitation.
spiderillie who loves to try many different types of aerial tricks when swinging around town. she loves the feeling of the air through her air and the feeling of being weightless, although sometimes it’s just to show off.
spiderillie who tries her best to balance her singing career to fight crime in the city. she still loves to record and sing in the little free time she gets, even sometimes using samples she recorded during her patrols.
spiderillie who loves incorporating little pieces of her hero life into her music; a rooftop view, a late-night mission, a stranger's conversation drifting up from the street below... anything could spark an idea. inspiration seemed to find her everywhere, and she'd quietly turn those moments into songs before anyone else even noticed them.
spiderillie who loves taking you swinging with her. the second you texted her "i'm bored," she'd treat it like an emergency. twenty minutes later, she'd be outside your window, mask on and hand outstretched.
when you opened it, she'd be perched on the ledge outside, mask on and hand outstretched. "c'mon, i'm taking you to a place that isn't here."
before you could ask another question, she'd wrap an arm around your waist and pull you against her side. "billie-" and then you'd be airborne. the city rushed beneath you as she swung between buildings, one arm securely around you while the other shot webs overhead. every time she dropped suddenly, your grip on her tightened and she'd laugh. "you're enjoying this way too much." you said, punching her shoulder gently. "hey, you screamed! this is comedy gold babe." you groaned, holding on tighter. "because i thought i was gonna die!"
sometimes she'd take you somewhere specific; a rooftop with a good view, a quiet overlook, a private place she'd discovered. other times she'd just swing aimlessly until both of you were laughing too hard to care where you ended up.
eventually she'd settle on some rooftop overlooking the city, billie sitting back on her hands to breathe easier as she sat beside you. the two of you would watch the lights below for a while, the comfortable kind of silence settling between you. then she'd glance over. "not bored anymore?"
you'd smile. "not anymore." you leaned over and pulled up the bottom of her mask, exposing her full lips before pressing a sweet yet passionate kiss on them. billie just melted into it, deepening the kiss before pulling away reluctantly. "mm, good," she'd say, already standing up and tugging her mask back down.
and when she looked away too fast afterward, pretending that hadn't made her just as happy as it made you, you'd know exactly why she'd shown up so quickly in the first place.
spiderillie who has a soft spot in her heart for buskers. sometimes she'll leave money, or even stay for a full song. her heart is full as she quietly sings to herself, not wanting her cover to be blown by her well known voice.
spiderillie who despite the obstacles, loved what she did, and would serve as your friendly neighborhood spider-woman for as long as she could.
warnings: contains smut, sub!top r & soft!dombottom b
roommate!billie, who had fallen in love with watching you fall in love
over the years, billie knew you would need some help learning the new things that came with being in a real relationship, especially a queer one. but mainly, she just adored watching you get excited over little things like flowers and her pulling out your chair. something tyler from history class freshman year excelled in failing at.
roommate!billie, who took her time with you, never rushing things or forcing you into something you didn't want, hence why it took until senior year for you two to have sex for the first time.
billie didn’t mind one bit. she had her fun, making out with you and maybe ending up naked in your bed a few times, but she never felt disappointed when you called it a night.
roommate!billie, who had unintentionally become your little sex teacher senior year.
roommate!billie, who had skills to share… which made you so curious
roommate!you, who felt clumsy or shy at times, but billie made you feel so safe that you didn't mind getting over the bumps in the road… the result was always so worth it.
roommate!billie, who took her teaching very seriously, but was still slow. she didn’t want to overwhelm you..
one fall evening, deep into october, the two of you giggled the whole way home after irish goodbye-ing a party no one wanted to be at anyway. the uber driver had headphones in, so you made out the entire drive home, which only continued more once you cozied up on your couch.
“you look so pretty tonight,” billie gushed between kisses to your neck.
“you look even prettier,” you said with a smile, pulling back just enough to see her face.
“nuh uh.”
“ya huh.”
billie chuckled and leaned back down, chasing after your lips.
roommate!billie, who knew all your cues by now. when you were sleepy, uncomfortable, drunk, excited, shy… horny.
you shifted in her arms and straddled her waist. you leaned down to kiss her neck, and enjoyed the sweet little moans she let out at the feeling of your warm, soft lips on her goosebump-ridden skin.
“bils,” you mumbled. she grabbed your waist and hummed a reply.
“wanna make you feel good,” you continued your assault on her neck, waiting for a response.
“yeah baby?” she rasped out, only making you hornier.
“please,” you pleaded with soft eyes she couldn’t ever say no to.
softly, not dragging, she took your hand and led you to your bedroom. the door clicked behind her as she watched you stand a little awkwardly next to the bed.
she came up close, slowly kissing your cheek, and flopped onto the bed.
“where do you want me baby?” she asked.
“right there.”
without missing a beat, you two were kissing again and grabbing at each other's clothes. you sat up on her hips, unbuttoning the top of her shirt before pushing it up off her torso. her bra came next, getting flung behind you without a care in the world.
billie watched in awe as you took control over her, leaving watercolor-like hickies down her neck and boobs, leaving her wet and squirming.
“lovey,” she moaned. “don’t tease me.”
roommate!billie, loved to tease you.
you looked up at her through your lashes and continued teasing. you kissed down her stomach and wasted no time unbuttoning her jeans and pulling them down. you chuckled at the little wet patch on her panties as you pulled them down too.
your confidence faltered for a moment. after all, you’d never done this before. you looked up at her like a lost puppy.
“just go slow baby, do what feels right.” her voice was soft and sweet and made you melt a little.
you nodded silently and shuffled closer. taking your time, you ran your hands up her thighs and settled between them. you spread her a little wider and kept your hands on her hips.
“that’s it baby- oh!” she moaned out as you dove right in, circling her swollen clit.
you giggled into her, only making her moan more from the vibration.
“that’s good, so good baby,” she panted.
her fingers thread through your hair, tugging just enough to keep you in place. you loved it.
you slowed down, sucking the little pearl, as you snuck a hand between her thighs, and found her entrance.
not wasting any time, you snuck a finger in. she arched in pleasure, fighting her grip on your hair.
“doing- doing so good mama. god h- how are you so good at this- fuck!” she cried out as you sped up. you wished you were recording billie’s little gasps and moans- better than any grammy-winning song in your opinion.
“stay still baby,” you purred, tightening your grip on her hip. she mewled and tried to stop squirming. she was in such bliss she couldn’t think straight. if heaven were real, she was sure this was it.
she locked her ankles around your shoulders, holding you close as her breathing began to pick up a bit too. you looked up through her lashes and caught her gaze; longing and desperate, a slight sheen of sweat, her tits bouncing with each little thrust of your fingers.
“you gonna cum for me lovey?” you asked, sliding in another finger.
“yes yes yes baby, please don’t stop!” she cried out.
with a flourish, she arched up as her orgasm hit her. you continued sucking and kissing and licking and thrusting through it, keeping her on the brink as long as you could.
eventually she pushed away softly, feeling the overstimulation take over. you pulled back and settled down on her, resting your chin on her chest as she caught her breath. her hand found a home on your back, tracing shapes with the little energy she had left.
“where,” she said between breaths. “where did you learn to do that?”
you giggled and snuggled closer.
“i had a really good teacher,” you teased, kissing behind her ear.
“well,” she kissed your cheek. “i fear your gonna have to do that a lot more often from now on,” she teased.
“ugh twist my ask why don’t ya,” you teased back.
roommate!billie, who never protested when you asked to pleasure her. literally never. except maybeeee your birthday if you were convincing enough ;)
an: roommate is coming, i just needed to write something else first to remember i’m not shit at it hehe
the way you smell after a shower, regardless of what body wash you chose that night
the way you feel after a shower, all warm and soft
the way you scrunch your nose when you get confused
how you refuse to let her protest when it’s your turn to top. everyone thinks she’s mommy but little do they know
the way you sing her songs when you think she can’t hear you
your inability to be away from her, even at a dinner table for you you’re holding her hand
the way you hold her hand during sex on particularly sentimental or romantic nights
how after a single drink your fuzzy and giggly and shift all your attention to her
your relationship with her family as if it were your own
*dogs included
how you try your best to make it to at least one night per city on her tour
when she’s eating you out, late at night and youre a little sleepy so you just flop back and sigh in bliss
how you love her for her and not her name
the smell of your shampoo when she cuddles you close
when you wear her perfumes
when you wear her perfumes, especially the unreleased samples she shares with you
how soft you can be in the bedroom, kissing her cheek and jaw and temple and praising her as your three fingers deep
your endless sense of curiosity and childlike wonder matching hers perfectly
how much of a hopeless romantic you still are months after you two made it official
how you kiss her after being away for weeks at a time, knocking the wind out of her
eye contact during sex. she goes nuts when you grab her chin, making her look at you
when you cook for her. particularly her family recipes, or some of your own but vegan if they weren’t already
how sweet you are to children and animals
how down you are for anything sexually, but still makes sure to talk it through with her beforehand. you’re down to be manhandled, just like let me know first ya know?
the way you sway your hips more down the hall to your room after date night
how you refuse to let her leave the house without breakfast in the mornings
how you look at her right before you cum
that look in your eyes that somehow only your friends cameras can catch while neither of you are paying attention 🩷
