pairing: Henry Creel x fem!reader, Mike Wheeler x platonic!sister!reader
summary: A warm house, a practiced smile, and a man who always knows what you need before you do. He says you were chosen. You’re no longer sure by whom.
Comments and reblogs are encouraged and appreciated!✨🤎
The house was warm in the way only memories ever were, all amber light and soft ticking clocks, and I moved through it like I had always belonged there, swift and steady.
An apron was tied neatly at my waist, flour still dusting my fingers as I set a pie to cool on the counter, the smell of apples and sugar settling into the walls like a promise kept. I poured tea into the delicate, floral cups Henry liked. Vintage, perfect, untouched by time—and for a moment, everything was quiet enough to believe.
Then a thought slipped in, thin and sharp:
Mike.
The name didn’t belong here. My hand faltered, as tea started spilling over the porcelain and onto the counter, dark liquid blooming where it shouldn’t be, my breath catching as the room seemed to tilt. Images crowded in uninvited—
bike wheels on pavement, shouting, flashing lights, hands pulling me backward. I blinked hard, heart racing, staring at the mess as if it had appeared on its own.
I hadn’t been careless before. I wasn’t careless now.
Somewhere behind me, the floor creaked softly, and I knew without turning that Henry had noticed.
“My dear… carelessness suits you so little, doesn’t it?”
Before I could plead my case, Henry gently moved me aside by the waist with practiced ease. He grabbed a cloth lying close by and wiped the accident from the counter.
“I’m sorry, Henry. I must not have gotten much rest.” My eyes felt slightly heavy, my shoulders tensed more than I thought they were.
Henry treated me well. Very well, actually. Like a loving husband would treat his obedient wife. I couldn’t remember what my life was like before this, but Henry was always there to remind me—like he held the missing piece to my puzzle.
Every time.
I set the plates down carefully—one in front of Henry, one in front of me. He thanked me, polite as always, the way someone does when they’re trying to appear grateful rather than actually feel it.
My hands lingered on the counter as I entered back into the kitchen. For a moment, I didn’t know why my chest felt tight.
Then it hit me.
Mike.
Not the way he looks now in my memory—restless, determined, hollow-eyed—but before. Back when his smile came easy. Back when the house didn’t feel like a place I had to brace myself in.
I blinked, and suddenly I wasn’t in the Creel house anymore.
Mike was leaning against the counter, sleeves rolled up, hands and nose lightly dusted with flour he never bothered to wipe off. He was laughing—actually laughing—because the smoke alarm was going off and I’d been waving a towel at it like that might help.
“Hey,” he said, grinning at me with warm eyes. “I said I could handle dinner. You didn’t have to jump in.”
“Were you planning on burning the house down?” I rolled my eyes, smiling at his messy state. “I saved us.” Soon after, I threw out the small burnt turkey in the trash.
He shrugged, unbothered. “Yeah, well—help me then.”
“What would you do without me?” I sighed, more as a thought than a question.
On that note, Nancy walked into the mess we had conquered in the kitchen. Mike looked on curiously.
“Maybe Nancy could help us out?” He wiggled his brows suggestively, hands out to show the failed dinner in front of us.
“Or maybe you could actually learn a thing or two from your other sister, Mike. She tolerates you more than I do.” Nancy smiled softly, making careful steps out of the kitchen and back up the stairs.
The memory was soft. Comfortable. The kind that felt like home.
I inhaled the smoke sharply, and suddenly the present rushed back in.
Henry was watching me.
“Are you alright?” he asked, folding his hands together. Calm. Concerned. Perfectly measured.
“I—” I hesitated. “I just remembered something. Mike… my brother. He almost burnt the house down once. He didn’t—he wasn’t angry. Not like you said.”
Henry’s expression changed just enough for me to notice.
Not surprise.
Not confusion.
Pity.
“Oh,” he said gently. “Is that how it was?”
My stomach twisted.
“He was kind to you,” Henry continued, voice smooth. “In his own way. But you have to remember… Michael is very good at pretending.”
“That’s not—” I stopped myself, the certainty that was there seconds ago wavering. “He laughed. He stayed. He didn’t argue.”
Henry nodded slowly, as if indulging.
“He laughed when things went wrong,” he agreed. “Because if he didn’t, he would’ve snapped. You remember how frustrated he got when the alarm went off, don’t you?”
The memory shifted.
Just a little.
The smile on Mike’s face flickered. His laugh sounded sharper now. Forced.
I walked back over to the dinner table to sit, my head starting to ache.
“And you remember how he blamed you afterward,” Henry added softly. “How he said you distracted him.”
My hands curled into fists.
Did he say that?
The warmth I felt a moment ago thinned, like a photograph left in the sun too long.
“I… maybe,” I murmured.
Henry reached across the table, placing his hand over mine. Grounding. Heavy. He rubbed my knuckles soothingly.
“You don’t need to protect him,” he said. “Your mind does that on its own. It softens the edges. But not everything that feels gentle was.”
The kitchen felt colder now.
I nodded, even though something deep inside me ached in protest. Somewhere, a version of Mike was still smiling at me across a counter dusted in flour and accidents.
But Henry’s voice was always louder,
and I was no longer sure which memory was real.
I found myself in our long, wide backyard full of freshly cut green grass. I grabbed a few clothespins and one of Henry’s dress shirts, ready to hang it up to dry. At the same time, I breathed in the fresh, sweet scent of the flowers I’d planted just a few days ago. It all seemed too perfect.
The backyard had come to be my favorite place to unwind and gain back some of the freedom I felt like I didn’t have before. It stretched wide, and was filled with activities to do.
but one rule.
Never go past it, to the woods.
That was one of Henry’s frequent rules. I never dared to break it, but he would always say,
“I’d have no choice but to protect you from the monsters, my dear.”
He made it very clear not to, or there would be consequences.
My head started to ache like last time. This time, I heard voices close by, as if they were reaching out to me. I opened my eyes hesitantly and saw Henry’s dress shirt flying in the wind like before. I turned my back, and the world suddenly changed.
It was cold and dark. Particles floated in the air.
It was Henry’s house—but different.
The Upside Down.
Something about this, I remembered.
I saw a flashlight coming from the woods and rushed footsteps. The figure came closer, and soon I realized who it was.
“Mike?”
Tears filled my eyes, my feet picking up speed before I leapt into his arms.
“I’ve been looking for you!”
I held on for a little longer before breaking the embrace. Mike looked behind his back, where a group filled with familiar faces looked relieved.
“We’ve been looking for you.”
Tears fell down my cheeks as I looked at the people I hadn’t seen in so long.
“Wait, but why?” I couldn’t understand my emotions. I felt relieved to see Mike and the others, but confused about why they came for me. I couldn’t describe why I felt like I was being saved, even though I didn’t feel like I was in danger.
“What are you talking about? We came to save you,” Mike said, eyebrows raised as he caught his breath.
“Save me? I don’t understand.” The group looked at me like I’d grown two heads.
“Really?” Mike gently grabbed my shoulders, hands shaking. “You don’t remember what happened? What did he do to you?”
“Jesus,” a guy around my age with good-looking hair muttered impatiently, running a hand through it.
“Shit… Vecna kidnapped you!” Another boy around Mike’s age with a head full of curls covered by a hat blurted out, trying to calm the other from going overboard.
I stepped back like my heart had been shot. I looked at the group, then back at Mike’s concerned face.
“Henry? He—he would never. This is… this is my life. I care for him.” My memories blurred together, unsure where the narrative they were telling me came from.
“What are you saying? Come on! We don’t have time for this.” Mike tried to grab my hand and pull me toward the woods as the others began to follow, but I stopped him.
“Mike, stop! I can’t!”
Mike looked confused and frustrated. A girl around mike’s age, with brown hair pulled back, stepped forward and gently placed a hand on my shoulder.
“Henry took you. Months ago. He took you out of your home and sent the demogorgons to hurt your family,”
I looked over at Mike and noticed the stitches at the corner of his forehead that I hadn’t seen before. His face held fear and defeat. I looked at another girl, probably older than me, who seemed worried and tense too.
“He’s been blocking us—and me—from finding you ever since. From getting you back.”
She looked at me with worry in her eyes, a small smile forming at the corner of her lips, as if relieved to see me after so long. Supposedly.
“Do you… remember who we are?”
The girl who looked older than me stepped closer from behind Steve?, i’d remembered, closing the distance between us. I met her eyes—eyes I knew anywhere.
“You’re—you’re my sister, Nancy,” I said, smiling as she chuckled in relief.
I looked at Mike.
“Mike.”
He smiled gratefully.
“My brother.”
I wrapped him in a tight hug, tears rolling down my cheeks.
A groan sounded behind us, from the house.
My heart raced. The hairs on my arms rose.
I turned and saw Henry.
My sweet Henry.
The only image my mind allowed was him smiling at me, care in his eyes.
“Shit! It’s Vecna,” Dustin said.
I walked closer to Henry as the others backed away.
“What are you doing?! We need to go! Now!” Mike shouted.
I saw flashes of a monster shaped like Henry but I blinked, and all I saw was my husband.
“My dear, come with me.”
His soft smile and calming presence lured me in as I heard the yells and pleas behind me. The closer I got to him, the more I felt the bright sun, the flowers moving in the wind. Less cold. Less noise.
“You’re safe with me.”
His hand reached out. Our fingers touched. The corners of his lips lifted.
summary: He hunts, and she runs. The tunnel is dark and full of mystery, and desire hides, veiled in the shadows.
wc: 991
warnings: dubcon, power imbalance, predator/prey dynamic, violence, blood, minor vol 3 spoilers!!, tunnel is somewhat canon, chasing, dark, swearing
Comments and reblogs are encouraged and appreciated!✨🤎
I wasn’t a big fan of being athletic. I didn’t even like running but now more than ever, I needed to.
I found myself abandoning the one spot I knew he couldn’t catch me. Somehow he managed to walk through the cave, step by step. I fled past it, I started running.
I went as fast as my feet could take me before they couldn’t. I tripped and fell hard, as the sand scraped my knees and hands.
I look below me and see a few hidden wooden boards with dull nails. I look up, a small and steady figure walking with confident foot steps towards me.
Henry.
It didn’t feel as scary as it should have. Not at all. Normal people would see a bear and run, afraid that it could hurt them—kill them. I see Henry and running doesn’t feel like my first choice.
As he gets closer I draw backwards before I hear the wooden boards gradually crack beneath me. I turn over as the boards break and fall in. My head hits the surrounding rocks before the darkness consumes me.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*• ° ✧ ° •࿇✦༺✧・ﾟ＊✦・ﾟ＊✧ ✧･ﾟ
I awake with an ache pounding away at my head. I flutter my eyes open, I see dirt—lots of dirt and darkness. The smell of blood is strong as I turn my head and look up at the light from above. A shadowy figure walks into the light. When my vision stops blurring I realize it’s Henry.
His chest rises and falls as he looks down at me from the top of the ladder with an intense gaze.
“There you are.” He says softly, as he catches his breath. My breath catches in my throat at his intimidating demeanor, not fully sure how I felt about the view above me.
I groan as I try to turn over, pushing myself up from the ground. I reach up to my head and see blood when I pull my hand back. Heavy feet start climbing down the ladder, I try to start running through the tunnel but struggle as my knees and side ache from the fall. I turn a corner to try to search for an escape but see nothing but darkness.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath, continuing on. I hold my side as I take careful and quiet steps into what feels like a maze. My steps felt too fast, almost forced so I slowed them down. Not because of the pain, I wanted to. I could have screamed for help but the anticipation became too intriguing.
“Come and get me you psychopath!” I spit out without a second thought.
“Yeah, you can keep calling me that but I think you have been enjoying this,” Henry’s deep voice booms in the tunnel, not too far from me.
I slow my steps down further as I turn another corner, trying to keep quiet as I catch my breath. A sense of defeat overcame me, that maybe he wasn’t totally wrong.
I kept on running, trying to flee from this terrible, terrible evil that is Henry—Vecna. But with every step I took, I became more sluggish and it made me want to stop, despite everything I was running from in the first place. The torture, the fear, it changed before me. My back slides down the hard wall.
“Sweetheart,” Henry teasingly called out to me, I heard his slow footsteps, like he wasn’t in a rush anymore.
“I can sense you’ve slowed down, haven’t screamed,” I notice some sort of stick under the dirt across from me. Slowly I crawl across the ground, digging out the poker tool from under it. I raise it up and observe it under the low amber lights.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*• ° ✧ ° •࿇✦༺✧・ﾟ＊✦・ﾟ＊✧ ✧･ﾟ
“I think you want to be found. Is that it, hmm?” Henry reaches an end with two opposite directions leading further into the darkness, amber lights doing very little.
At the sound of shuffling, Henry turns his head and sees a set of glassy and daring eyes staring into his as they peak from the corner. As soon as his meet theirs, their head vanishes. He sprints after the rushed footsteps that follow.
The moment he turns the corner, he’s hit with a sharp and violent blow to his cheek, dark blood dripping down his now gashed cheek. He stares down at his victim in the eye before another blow is taken to the other side of his face.
Henry looks on with bloodshot eyes and something unrecognizable. Suddenly he smiles and chuckles as she stops in her tracks and stares at him, almost stuck in shock perhaps.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*• ° ✧ ° •࿇✦༺✧・ﾟ＊✦・ﾟ＊✧ ✧･ﾟ
“I thought you were just a scared girl, too afraid to see the truth, but I think you know. We both know. You’re not afraid,” Henry takes a step closer to me, our chests inches away. I could have taken one back, but I stopped myself, I desired more.
“but I see it in your eyes. The lust,” I still hold the tool in my shaking hand with a tight grip. Henry slowly raises his hand and glides it down my arm, fingers reaching into my tight fist.
His touch felt electric now that he was in front of me, actually touching me.
What am I thinking?! He’s a mad man!! I should be afraid! I should be running.
Fuck.
I remained frozen in my spot, unable to escape, tied to the sins I was curious to commit here. His voice is low and menacing, speaking next to the shell of my ear.
“You’re not afraid of me, that’s why you’re still here. You kept listening for me—stayed close. Fear doesn’t make someone do that,” My tight fist opens dramatically, his fingers caressing my hand afterwards.
I drop the tool on the hard ground as the sound echos in the tunnel. Henry’s fingers then take their place on my cheek before a tear rolls down it.
a/n: i watched vol 2 and saw the scenes of him with the kids, especially with holly and thought of making this! also compared to how he treats derek to holly, enjoy :)
let me know if you wanna be added to a tag list and i’ll create one!
warnings: no warnings! no spoilers either!! just fluff hehe, his child in this would probably be around holly’s age or younger
Comments and reblogs are encouraged and appreciated!✨🤎
First of all, Henry would be quietly devoted to his daughter. He’s not overly affectionate nor does he play loudly with his daughter but his presence stays constant—always nearby, watching or admiring.
He consistently teaches her to be observant, to always listen before speaking, and to notice patterns. He would say,
“Sweetheart, always remember.. this big world will reveal itself if you just pay attention.” She would stare at him with curiosity and fascination, ready to ask so many questions. Henry was oh so patient and gave an answer to every single one.
Henry always trusted his child’s instincts and he doesn’t treat her like she’s fragile. He hasn’t since she was a baby. That’s why he lets her wander the house freely.
If she falls, he would soothe her quietly, maybe soft words filled with reassurance. He would go back later to the spot that it happened and fix whatever caused it. Loose stair or cracked floorboard, no matter what he would try his best for it to not happen again. If she made a mess, he would quickly suppress any feelings of frustration or anger and help his daughter clean it up.
He believes responsibility is taught, not demanded.
Sometimes before bed when she’s feeling needy or upset, he’ll read her stories, whether they’re old books, poetry or fantasy related things. The one thing he pivots away from is past stories or experiences, about himself. He doesn’t want to open up to his daughter just yet.
As every season passes and changes, the weather does too, of course. Henry is very much used to the coldness that lingers in the house and finds comfort in it but when his daughter complains about the house being too cold that’s when he trades his comfort for hers.
He turns up the temperature in the house and smiles softly in content when his daughter sleeps comfortably and peacefully in bed without shivering.
Henry is internally terrified of anyone ever hurting his sweet, ambitious child. Anyone that ever potentially would or has would be permanently etched in his mind. He would stop at nothing to destroy the town before letting harm come anywhere near her.
Deep down, he believes that without a doubt, his daughter is the one pure thing he has created and would not ever let the world corrupt her, even if that means protecting her from himself because he loves her.
Summary: When a workplace emergency traps you inside a burning building, firefighter Ripley is the one who finds and saves you.
You’d always imagined fire to be loud, raging, cracking, like something alive.
But when it actually happened, it was quieter than you expected.
Smoke seeped in through the vents, alarms blared, and panic took over.
You went back for your bag. A stupid move.
The fire starts like a whisper.
You’re the last one left in the building, staying behind after work to double-check an email you forgot to send. It’s quiet, except for the hum of fluorescent lights and the clicking of your keyboard.
Then the power cuts. A flicker, then dark.
A second later, the alarms start.
You shoot to your feet, heart hammering, as the smell hits you, acrid, heavy smoke curling from the corridor.
You bolt for the door, grabbing your phone and bag on instinct, but as you yank the handle, it jerks hard and doesn’t budge.
Locked.
You try again, rattling it harder.
“Come on, come on…”
Your chest tightens. Smoke creeps under the door now, slow and ghostlike at first, then thicker.
You drop to the floor, coughing into your sleeve, and fumbling with your phone. No service. The emergency call doesn’t connect.
Every second feels longer than the last.
You scream for help, voice breaking. You kick at the door, but the air is too hot now, thick with burning chemicals and fear.
You start to panic.
That’s when you hear it, a shout from outside. Heavy boots stomping down the hallway. Metal clanging. Something slams against the door.
And then the door bursts open in a cloud of smoke and splinters.
She fills the frame like a statue carved from adrenaline and steel, she is tall, geared up, helmeted, visor down.
The oxygen tank on her back hisses as she crouches low, pulling the mask from her face just enough to speak.
“Hey, I see you. Don’t move.”
You cough hard, vision swimming. Her voice cuts through it, low and calm.
“You’re alright. I’ve got you.”
Strong hands slip under your arms as she lifts you carefully. It’s not a rushed movement, it’s careful like she’s done this a hundred times and won’t let you fall. Your knees buckle, but she catches you easily, steadying you against her chest.
You manage to speak, just barely. “I-I couldn’t get out…”
“I know.” Her voice is close to your ear now, grounding. “But you’re not alone anymore.”
She moves fast, guiding you through the thickening haze, shielding your head with her shoulder, barking directions into her radio as she goes. Down the corridor.
Past the flames. Her gloved hand never leaves yours.
At one point, a beam crashes nearby. You flinch. She presses closer.
“Just a little more. Stay with me.”
You cling to her jacket, choking on soot and heat.
The world narrows to just her, the sound of her breathing, the strength of her hold.
The open doorway is ahead. Someone yells your location. And then you’re out.
Cool air hits your face like a blessing.
Other firefighters swarm you. Hands reach to take you, voices speak your name, but your eyes search for her, and there she is, pulling off her helmet, her face flushed and sweaty, eyes scanning you.
You try to say thank you, but the medics are already lifting you, placing an oxygen mask over your face. Everything becomes a blur, sirens, shouts, lights spinning overhead, and the last thing you see before being loaded into the ambulance is her standing tall near the wreckage, watching you.
Not just making sure you’re safe.
Caring.
Even from a distance, it’s in her eyes.
You don’t remember much after that.
You woke up in the hospital, throat raw from the smoke and eyes stinging. Nurses were kind, doctors even kinder.
But the woman who pulled you out of that room, she was gone. Just a name you caught in a murmur from someone in uniform.
Ripley.
Days passed. You recovered.
But something gnawed at you. You felt the need to say thank you.
Not just for the rescue but for the way she’d looked at you, steady and calm in the worst moment of your life. Like she cared, even if she didn’t know you.
So you looked up the station. Showed up with a box of cupcakes and shaky nerves.
Inside, the firehouse was busy but relaxed, boots scattered, laughter echoing from the back.
When you asked for Ripley, someone whistled.
“She’s on hose duty. Want me to call her?”
You nodded. "Please. Thank you."
She came out minutes later, wiping her hands on a rag, and when she saw you, her brows lifted in surprise. “You.”
You smiled nervously, holding out the box. “Hi. I-I never got to thank you. For saving my life.”
She took the box gently, then looked at you again.
“Didn’t think I’d see you again. How are you feeling?”
“Better. Still coughing like a chain smoker, but... alive. Thanks to you.”
Rhea smiled faintly. “Just doing my job.”
You hesitated. “Still. It meant everything to me. You were calm, and kind. I didn’t expect that, in the middle of everything.”
Something softened in her posture. “You were scared.”
You nodded. “Terrified. But then you were there.”
The silence between you stretched, not awkward just aware. Charged in a quiet way.
“Look,” she said finally, scratching the back of her neck. “I’ve never done this before like, with someone I’ve pulled from a burning building- but, would you maybe want to go for coffee sometime? When you’re feeling more up to it?”
Your heart skipped.
“I was kind of hoping you’d ask,” you said with a grin.
She blinked. “Yeah?”
You nodded, more certain now. “You saved me. The least I can do is let you buy me a latte.”
She laughed and god, it was a good sound, low and a little shy.
“Deal. But I’m picking the place. Can’t risk you running back into a burning café just to find a better pastry.”
---
The café she picked was tucked into a quiet corner of the city, warm and low-lit, with potted plants along the walls and mismatched chairs that somehow worked together.
She was already there when you arrived, leaning back in a booth, a black hoodie tugged over her shoulders and a mug of something steaming between her hands.
When she looked up and saw you, her face changed, a smile, slow and real, softened her features.
"You made it," she said, standing as you approached.
You laughed. "I didn’t get trapped in any storerooms today, so… yeah. Success."
That earned a chuckle, the low rumble of it warming your chest as she pulled out your chair for you before sitting back down.
She was more relaxed here.
Still watchful, still solid, but softer around the edges.
You talked over drinks first then shared a slice of cake while making fun of each other’s music taste.
“I’m sorry,” you teased, “but how can you lift burning beams off people and still willingly listen to metalcore while doing it?”
“Motivation,” she grinned. “And because it's loud enough to drown out my thoughts.”
Something in her expression shifted after she said that, barely, just a flicker.
You still noticed. And she noticed that you noticed.
You reached out instinctively, touching her wrist where it rested on the table.
“Hey. What kind of thoughts?”
She stared at your fingers for a second, then exhaled slowly and sat back.
“I don’t usually talk about this,” she said. “Especially not on first dates. But I guess when someone sees you dragging them out of a fire, there’s not much point pretending you’re the mysterious type.”
You gave her a small, understanding smile. “You can tell me. If you want.”
She nodded once.
“I was seventeen when our house caught fire,” she began, voice low. “It was the middle of the night. I remember waking up to the smell- weird, right? Not the alarm, not shouting. Just this thick, horrible smell like melted plastic and smoke.”
You went quiet. Her fingers curled around her mug.
“My sister didn’t make it out,” she said. “She was younger. Eleven. The fire spread so fast. We got separated. And by the time they found her…” She paused. Cleared her throat. “It was too late.”
Your heart ached. “Rhea…”
She waved her hand gently. “It’s okay. I’ve had years to carry it. But that night? Watching the firefighters, the way they worked, the way they didn’t stop until every room was cleared, even when they knew…” She blinked fast. “It made something shift in me. I realised that someone had to run into the fire. Someone has to try. Even when it’s too late. I wanted to be that person for someone else. The one who gets there just in time.”
You reached across the table, this time holding her hand more firmly. She didn’t pull away. If anything, she turned her palm up to lace her fingers with yours.
“You were that person,” you said softly. “For me.”
Rhea looked at you, not just glanced, but really looked, her eyes full of something heavy and bright at the same time.
“That’s why I was surprised you came to find me. Most people don’t. They say thanks, sure, but they move on. And I’m okay with that. But you…”
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” you admitted. “Not just because you saved my life. But because you saw me. In that moment, you didn’t just treat me like another rescue. You made me feel safe. Like I mattered.”
Her jaw tensed, her thumb brushing your knuckles absently. “You did. You do.”
The silence between you now was warm. Electric. She looked down at your joined hands, then smiled, sheepish and a little bashful, which surprised you.
“So… does this mean I can ask for a second date?”
You squeezed her hand. “Only if I get to choose the music next time.”
She laughed again, this time freely, her shoulders loosening, the weight she carried easing just for a moment.
“I think I’m starting to like you,” she said, half-teasing.
You grinned. “Good. Because I already like you.”
Masterlist
/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/
billie would absolutely melt when she sees you for the first time.. like immediately fall in love, with your looks and of course your smile
she introduces herself with a big smile and a slight blush on her face
you smile back with curiosity and take an interest into her as well
she loves when you giggle at her laugh because of something you said
the first time Billie told you that she loved you was backstage 5 minutes before a show started
“I love you” Billie said before turning around heading through the crossover
“What?” You said out of shock. Your cheeks turned red while you played with your nails.
“I.. I said I love you.” Billie confirmed. Her smile grew larger as she walks back over to you. She grabs your hands in hers and looks back into your eyes.
“Ye-yeah, I love you too.”
before you guys became official, Billie loved cooking vegan treats and now that you’re together, one of the things she loves to do in her free time is bake with you
she loves playing all kinds of music when you’re together
she would help you put on your apron and you would do the same with hers
somehow there’s a huge mess in the kitchen when you’re done and a mess of flour on both of you
a fit of laughs and giggles erupt in the kitchen from the realization of what it looked like in the end
billie is the biggest fan of cuddles
she could cuddle you for hours if you wanted to, at any time of the day
every time she eventually falls asleep on your chest with both her arms wrapped around your body
you love playing with her hair as you just admire her beauty
as the hours pass by she wakes up to you looking off in the distance
“Hey, love. What are you looking at?”
she plays with your hair, awaiting your response
“Nothin’, just thinking about you.” You smile at her
“Okay.” Billie closes her eyes with a smile before stretching her body from the sleep she came out of, accidentally hitting you in the face with her hand. This causes you to touch your eye in pain as Billie giggles out a sorry
