mayar

𝒽oneyed words for quiet souls

[verysweetly]

‧₊˚ always craving the sweetness ‧₊˚.

˚ ｡ ⋆ ℳayar infp eighteen she//her rules femme masterlist words & wonder heart flutters 𝟺 girls taglist lowercase writer ៶៶ׄ ✉️- made entirely of love & daydreams.

© verysweetly | est. january 2026.

[verysweetly]

part two please and thank you

the please and thank you saved you

[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]

𝓗er greatest project [b.e]

summary :

what’s the worst that could happen?

that’s usually how these things start, isn’t it?

one transfer student with far too much confidence. one girl who’s spent eighteen years doing everything right. a few conversations that were never supposed to matter. a handful of excuses to stick around a little longer. suddenly, leaving things alone doesn’t seem nearly as fun.

billie’s never been one to back down from a challenge.

and if there was one thing she loved more than getting her way…

it was her greatest project.

taglist : @bitchesbrokenpromises @billiebobasia

♰ moodboard ⊹ ࣪ ˖

chapters [ completed / ongoing ] :

chapter one : 𝔀rong seat, wrong girl

© verysweetly | all rights reserved.

[verysweetly]

[verysweetly]

not sure if you’re taking requests… but if you are, i’d love a girlfriend billie and reader where billie is trying to do that tiktok trend where you split an apple in half with your bare hands (basically testing her muscles) and reader gets hella turned on (like anyone would) you can end it however you want, idm smut or just a little drabble of bringing my silly fantasy to life. Thanks! xx

𝒮how off [b.e]

𑣲 billie .̥ f!reader

◜ they say curiosity killed the cat . . . nobody ever talks about what happens when curiosity convinces your girlfriend she can split an apple in half with her bare hands. ◞

it all started on a random tuesday afternoon because billie was scrolling through her fyp instead of doing literally anything productive.

you were in the kitchen, casually making a sandwich, when billie suddenly gasped from the couch like she’d just witnessed a medical miracle. she scrambled off the cushions, bare feet slapping against the hardwood floor, and sprinted straight into the kitchen holding her phone out like evidence in a court case.

"look at this," she said, dropping her chin onto your shoulder from behind and shoving the screen an inch from your nose. "look. look at what this guy is doing."

you squinted at the screen. it was some gym bro on tiktok, looking intensely focused at a bright red gala apple held between his palms. he dug his thumbs into the top seam near the stem, squeezed his hands together, flared his biceps, and with a horrifying crunch split the apple clean in half with his bare hands.

"okay?" you said, chewing a bite of bread. "he ruined a perfectly good apple for clout. classic."

billie pulled back, looking deeply offended. "no, you don't get it. that takes insane grip strength. that’s pure muscle." she looked down at her own hands, flexing her fingers once, twice, like a comic book character realizing they have superpowers. "i can totally do that."

"billie, no you can't."

"i deadass can," she insisted, her eyes widening. "go get an apple out of the fridge right now. i’m filming this."

"you're going to bruise your palms and cry," you warned, but you were already walking over to the fruit bowl anyway, because when billie eilish gets a weirdly specific idea stuck in her head, there’s literally no stopping her.

you grabbed a crisp, solid honeycrisp apple from the counter and handed it to her. "if you break your hand, i’m not driving you to urgent care."

"shut up, watch and learn," she muttered, taking the apple.

she dragged a wooden barstool to the middle of the kitchen, set her phone against a jar of peanut butter on the counter, and tapped record. she did a quick test angle, made a goofy face at the lens, and then motioned for you to get in the frame.

"come stand next to me," she whispered loudly, as if the phone could hear her secret plans. "you have to be my hype man."

you rolled your eyes, but slipped into frame beside her. she instantly looped one arm around your waist, pulling you close for a second to plant a quick, noisy kiss on your cheek before getting into character.

"okay guys," billie spoke to the phone camera, putting on her deep, dramatic radio announcer voice. "today we are testing if i am secretly built like a tank. my girlfriend thinks i'm gonna fail. show them your face."

you gave the camera a thumbs down. billie swatted your hip playfully.

"ignore the hater," billie said to the lens. "watch this."

she set her feet apart, setting her stance like she was preparing to lift a three hundred pound barbell. she placed the base of her thumbs at the top groove of the apple, right next to the stem.

for the first three seconds, nothing happened. billie just stared down at the fruit, breathing through her nose.

then, she committed.

her shoulders locked into place. her forearms tightened instantly, the muscle defining itself under her skin as she squeezed with everything she had. her veins popped out just a little along her wrists, her knuckles turning white from the sheer pressure. she let out this quiet, focused grunt, her teeth gritting together, a little crease forming right between her eyebrows.

and honest to god? you completely forgot about the tiktok.

you just stood there, staring at her arm muscles working. there was something absurdly hot about how ridiculously focused she was over a piece of produce. billie’s usually so laid-back, just chilling in oversized hoodies and laughing at dumb memes, so seeing her flexed up, veins showing, low-key straining with actual raw strength was doing things to you that you were not prepared for on a tuesday afternoon.

you swallowed hard, your eyes glued to the curve of her forearm.

"billie..." you murmured, your voice dropping a little lower than you meant it to.

"hold on," she grunted through her teeth, her whole body trembling slightly from effort. "i’m... almost... there..."

"no, like... billie," you repeated, leaning a tiny bit closer, suddenly feeling very warm.

billie caught the shift in your voice. she chanced a quick glance up at you without letting go of the apple, her blue eyes scanning your face. she saw where you were looking —staring dead on at her flexed arm— and a slow, smirking grin started creeping onto her face, breaking her intense focus.

"wait," billie gasped out, still holding the squeeze. "are you... are you looking at my arms right now?"

"no," you lied instantly. "focus on the apple."

"you are!" billie laughed, her cheeks flushing a faint pink, but instead of relaxing, she intentionally flexed harder, shifting her angle just to show off for you. "you're getting flustered over an apple!"

"i am not!" you protested, though your face was definitely burning now. "just break it already, muscle head."

"oh, now i have to break it," she wheezed.

she took a deep breath, braced her elbows against her ribs, and gave one final, violent, godly squeeze.

crack.

the skin of the apple gave out with a loud snap, splitting straight down the middle. juice sprayed everywhere —a little bit hitting the counter, a little bit hitting billie’s cheek, and a tiny splash landing right on your neck. the apple popped apart, leaving billie holding two almost-perfect halves in her sticky palms.

"NO WAY!" billie screamed, dropping the half-apples onto the counter and grabbing her own head in shock. "NO WAY! DID YOU SEE THAT?! I’M FREAKING HULK!"

she jumped up and down, flexing both arms at the phone camera like a bodybuilder winning a trophy. "IN YOUR FACE! FIRST TRY! OKAY, SECOND TRY, BUT IT COUNTS!"

you were laughing so hard your chest hurt, watching her celebrate over a split piece of fruit like she’d just won a grammy. she ran over to the counter, stopped the recording, and immediately hit replay to watch her own moment of glory.

"look at that crunch!" she yelled, pointing at the screen. "look at the technique!"

"you literally got apple juice in my hair," you said, stepping closer to her, though you weren't actually mad at all.

"a small price to pay for history," billie declared smoothly. she tossed her phone onto the counter, not even caring about the edit anymore, and turned around to face you fully. she leaned her lower back against the edge of the kitchen counter, crossing her arms over her chest. a move that, intentionally or not, made her arms look extremely good again.

she tilted her head, a soft, teasing smirk playing on her lips. "so... you were saying earlier? about how i couldn't do it?"

"i said you'd bruise your hands," you corrected, taking a slow step into her space. "which, by the way, your palms are bright red."

"worth it," she murmured, her eyes dropping down to your lips for a second before flicking back up to yours. the goofy, hyper energy from a minute ago was settling down into something way quieter, way softer. "besides... i think i got a pretty good reaction out of you."

"you did not," you whispered, wrapping your arms loosely around her neck. "you're so full of yourself."

"am i?" billie chuckled, her sticky hands resting gently on your waist, pulling you in until there was zero space left between you two. her voice dropped into that quiet, scratchy tone she gets when she's trying to be sweet. "you were staring. i saw you. you like when i show off."

"maybe a little bit," you admitted, rolling your eyes, though you couldn't hide the smile tugging at your mouth. "it was... mildly impressive."

"mildly?" billie echoed, raising an eyebrow. "i just split a rock hard honeycrisp with my bare hands and you give me mildly?"

"show me what else those hands can do and maybe i'll upgrade it to very impressive," you teased softly, the suggestive little comment slipping out before you could stop it.

billie’s eyes widened for a split second, a soft beat of silence falling over the kitchen as the implication hit her. a low, breathless chuckle escaped her chest, her hands tightening on your waist.

"oh, okay," she hummed, her voice dripping with playful mischief. "is that how we're playing now?"

"i'm just saying," you whispered, leaning in closer until your noses brushed.

"you're terrible," she whispered back, but her eyes were heavy, fixed entirely on your mouth now.

she didn't give you time to reply. billie leaned in and kissed you. sweet and slow at first, her lips soft and warm against yours, tasting faintly of sweet apple juice. you sighed into the kiss, pressing yourself closer against her, your fingers running up into the cool soft hair at the nape of her neck.

the kiss deepened naturally, moving from sweet to a little heavier, a little warmer. billie pulled you flush against her body, a small, quiet hum escaping her throat that sent a shiver straight down your spine. her hands slid up from your waist to rest firmly against the small of your back, holding you close like she had no intention of letting you go anytime soon.

when she finally pulled back just a few inches, both of you were breathing a little faster. billie rested her forehead against yours, her blue eyes shining, looking completely fond and a little bit dazed.

"so," she murmured, her lips brushing against yours as she spoke. "upgrade?"

"definitely an upgrade," you whispered, kissing her quick corner of the mouth kiss.

"good," she grinned, pressing one more lingering kiss to your lips before sliding her hands down to cup your face. "because my hands are sticky as hell and i need to wash them, but i didn't wanna stop kissing you."

you burst out laughing, breaking the romantic spell completely. "gross! billie!"

"what! i kept them on your waist!" she laughed defensively, holding her sticky hands up in the air like she was being arrested. "i was respectful!"

"go wash your hands, you menace," you said, shoving her playfully toward the sink.

"fine, fine," she grumbled, turning on the faucet and scrubbing her hands with dish soap. she looked back over her shoulder at you, her eyes twinkling with that signature playful energy. "hey... do we have any more apples?"

"no," you said firmly, leaning against the counter next to her. "we are not making this a daily routine."

"why not?" billie grinned, drying her hands on a dishtowel and wrapping her arms right back around your waist from behind, resting her chin on your shoulder just like she had at the start of the day. "you seemed to really enjoy the show."

“you’re ridiculous,” you murmured, leaning back into her chest and pressing a quick kiss to her cheek.

billie laughed quietly against your shoulder, her arms squeezing around your waist just a little tighter.

“yeah,” she said.

“and you still kiss me, so…” ৻ꪆ

note 🗒️ // had so much fun writing this thank you ♡ !!

[verysweetly]

friendly reminder that i do see all your requests !! i just need to get my ass in gear and start writing them 🦄

[verysweetly]

hi i saw this idea on tiktok but it was like

"was it casual when you took your cross necklace off just to kiss me"

so i'm thinking religious guilt but they both don't really care unless they're in front of their parents 🤔 and then there's an argument bc we love the angst and one of them says “I love you, but I want my parents to be at my wedding” omg just kill me already

anyways i think this is the best idea ok make it very buzzy and angsty and some fluff 🤤🤤

wait because this is basically my series her greatest project !! i posted a few chapters then decided i wasn’t happy with how i wrote it and privated them

i still eat the concept up tho… ? should i lock back in and rewrite her or do i let her rot in my drafts 🤔 i dunno

[verysweetly]

- 𝒫ink letters [b.e]

˒˒ masterlist.

𑅞 chapter eleven : 𝓐fter all. 𑅕

you know how in movies, when two people finally get through the absolute worst, most agonizing parts of their story, the screen just fades to black?

like, there’s this loud movie music, they share this life altering kiss in the middle of a rainstorm or on a rooftop, and then the credits roll. they never show you what happens the next tuesday at noon. they never show you the actual living part. and honestly, for a long time, i think we both thought that’s how it had to be. that love was only real if it was keeping you up at three in the morning, making your chest ache so bad you couldn’t breathe, or leaving you stranded in some constant state of waiting for the other shoe to drop.

but it turns out the movies have it completely wrong. the real reward isn’t the big, dramatic speech. it’s the silence afterward. it’s how ridiculously, beautifully ordinary things finally get to be when you aren’t constantly waiting for the next disaster to strike.

right now, for example, billie is wearing your favorite oversized gray hoodie.

it’s the one with the slightly frayed cuffs and the faint scent of the vanilla laundry detergent you buy at the corner store, and it is absolutely drowning her. the sleeves are bunched up around her elbows, and she’s standing by your kitchen counter, holding a spoon that is dripping marinara sauce directly onto the floor.

"billie," you say, not even looking up from your laptop. "the floor."

"i'm on it, i'm on it," she mutters. instead of grabbing a paper towel, she just uses her socked foot to swipe at the spot, dragging it back and forth until the red smear disappears into the dark fabric of her sock. she looks over at you, giving you this completely shameless, boyish grin that makes the corners of her blue eyes crinkle. "see? professional cleaner. you should hire me."

"you are literally disgusting," you scoff, but there's no weight to it. there hasn't been any weight to your scoffs in months.

"you love me," she says easily, turning back to the stove to stir the pasta.

she says it so casually now. like it’s just a basic rule of physics, like gravity or the sun rising in the east. she doesn't say it with that desperate, pleading look in her eyes anymore, the one where she’s holding her breath and waiting to see if you’ll flinch. she just says it because it’s true, and because she’s allowed to say it now.

the hoodie she's wearing, the gray one. was actually the first thing she stole from your room after the move in. well, not even an official move in, just the slow, quiet way her things started replacing the empty spaces in your apartment. first it was her toothbrush, then her heavy black boots by the door, then a stack of vinyl records she swore sounded better on your cheap turntable, and then, finally, your clothes.

you remember the exact day she took it, too. it was a tuesday. it was pouring rain outside, the kind of heavy spring downpour that makes you want to stay in bed for forty eight hours straight, and billie had come over after her morning studio session. her own hoodie was completely soaked through, clinging to her shoulders and making her shiver when she walked through the door.

you hadn't even thought about it. you had just walked over to your dresser, pulled out the oversized gray one, and tossed it at her face.

"put that on," you had said, already turning back to your desk to finish your reading.

billie had caught it, holding the soft fabric in her hands for a long second. she didn't say anything. she didn't make a joke about how it was yours. she just pulled it over her head, letting out this long, quiet sigh as the warmth hit her. when she sat down on the edge of your bed, she kept pulling the sleeves down over her hands, burying her face in the high collar just to breathe in the smell of you.

and now, she wears it like it’s her own.

"hey," billie says, her voice breaking you out of the memory. she’s leaning against the counter now, looking at you with this soft, quiet expression. "you're doing that thing where you look right through me. what are you thinking about?"

"nothing," you say, closing your laptop with a soft click. "just how ugly that hoodie looks on you."

"liar," she chuckles, walking over to the couch.

she drops her heavy frame down onto the cushions, immediately stretching her legs out and draping them over your lap. it’s completely natural. it’s muscle memory at this point. she reaches out, her hand finding your calf, and her fingers start absentmindedly scratching at your skin through your sweatpants while she looks at her phone.

she doesn't even realize she’s doing it. it’s just what her hands do when they’re near you. they seek you out. they find the closest piece of you they can reach, and they just hold on, anchoring her to the room.

but it wasn't always this easy.

you still remember the first time physical touch came back into the picture, months after that night on the library roof.

it was mid april, and the air was still cool enough that you could see your breath if you stayed out past dusk. the two of you had been walking back from the diner near campus, carrying a white paper bag of cold french fries between you. your shoulders were brushing as you walked down the narrow sidewalk, just a tiny, accidental contact every few steps.

and every single time your sleeves touched, billie would instinctively flinch away.

she would take a half step to the side, her jaw tightening, her eyes fixed straight ahead. she was so terrified of crossing a line, so incredibly careful not to push you or make you feel like she was trying to reclaim the physical closeness she had lost. she was walking like she was on thin ice, her hands shoved deep into her pockets, her shoulders tense under her black jacket.

you had watched her do it three times before you finally got tired of the distance.

without saying a word, you reached out, caught her hand, and slid your fingers between hers.

billie had frozen instantly. she stopped walking right there on the sidewalk, under the dim yellow light of a streetlamp. she looked down at your joined hands, then up at your face, her blue eyes incredibly wide and shining with this sudden, overwhelming emotion. her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard, and for a second, she looked like she was actually going to cry right there in the middle of the street.

"is this okay?" she had whispered, her fingers trembling slightly against yours.

"yeah," you had said softly, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "it's okay."

she didn't say anything else. she just squeezed back, her grip tight and desperate, like she was holding onto a life preserver. and you had walked the rest of the way back to your building like that, your hands locked together, the cold air between you completely gone.

"miller wants to know if we're coming to that bonfire thing on friday," billie says now, her thumb sliding over your ankle. "apparently someone got a keg and some really bad speakers."

"do you want to go?" you ask, leaning your head back against the cushions.

"not really," she says, not even hesitating. "i'd rather stay here and finish that terrible movie we started yesterday. the one with the cgi shark."

"that movie is a cinematic masterpiece, billie."

"it's awful and you know it," she laughs, nudging your leg with her foot. "but i'd still rather watch it with you than go drink warm beer in a muddy field."

that's the other thing that changed. the crowd.

there was a time when billie’s entire identity was wrapped up in being the center of attention. she was the girl who had to be at every party, the one who lived for the noise and the laughs and the cheap validation of a room full of people who didn't actually care about her.

but then, the transition happened.

you remember a friday night back in late april. the weather had finally turned warm, and the frat house down the block was throwing this massive, end of semester blowout. you could hear the bass vibrating through the floorboards of your apartment from three blocks away.

billie had been over at your place, sitting on the floor with her back against your bed, helping you untangle a giant, chaotic nest of colorful yarn for a crochet project. her phone had been buzzing on the carpet next to her for twenty minutes straight before she finally picked it up.

"yo, billie, you coming?" you had heard miller's voice loud and clear through the phone. "everyone's here. the guys from the team are asking where you're at."

billie hadn't even looked up from the green yarn she was carefully threading through her fingers.

"nah," she said, her voice completely even.

"why? you sick or something?"

"i've got plans," she said.

"what plans? it's friday night, man."

"better plans," billie replied, giving you a quick, private look from under her dark eyelashes. "have fun, miller. don't burn the house down."

she hung up before he could argue, tossing her phone onto the bed behind her. she didn't look regretful. she didn't look like she was missing out on anything. she just reached back into the pile of yarn, grabbed another tangled knot, and smiled.

"okay," she had said, leaning her shoulder against your knee. "where does this pink one go?"

you ended up making pancakes at eleven o'clock that night because neither of you wanted to walk to the dining hall in the dark. you stood in your tiny kitchen, the stove top covered in flour, listening to some old jazz record billie had found at a garage sale, and it was the quietest, most peaceful friday night you had ever had.

"the pasta's done," billie announces, sliding her legs off your lap and standing up. "go sit at the table. i'll bring it over."

"should i be worried that you're cooking?" you tease, sliding off the couch. "is this an assassination attempt?"

"ha, ha," she says, rolling her eyes as she plates the food. "i'll have you know my grandma taught me this recipe. it's legendary."

you sit down at the small wooden table by the window. outside, the campus is quiet, the streetlights just beginning to flicker on as the dusk settles over the brick buildings. it's a beautiful, soft summer evening.

billie sets the plates down, then sits across from you, immediately digging in. she eats like she does everything else. with this quiet, intense focus, completely unbothered by how messy she looks with a bit of red sauce on her lip.

you watch her for a second, the warmth in your chest blooming into something so heavy it almost aches.

you think about how long it took to get here. you think about the letters, the quiet nods across the quad, the seven p.m. texts that used to make your heart jump into your throat.

it was months after the library roof when the text messages finally changed their meaning.

during the winter break, those messages had been a lifeline, a tiny, fragile thread keeping the two of you connected through the silence. but even after you came back to campus, even after you started talking again, the habit didn't die.

every single evening, at exactly 7:00 p.m., billie’s name would pop up on your screen.

it became this running joke between you, a quiet ritual that neither of you wanted to break.

one evening, you were sitting right next to her on your bed, sharing a bag of sour candy while a movie played in the background. the room was completely dark except for the glow of the television screen.

at exactly 7:00 p.m., your phone buzzed on the nightstand.

you didn't even have to look at it to know what it was. you reached over, picked it up, and read the screen.

billie : checking in :)

you looked over at her. billie was sitting there, her knees pulled up to her chest, trying and failing to hide the giant, stupid gring spreading across her face. she was staring at her own phone, her thumbs hovering over the keyboard.

you rolled your eyes, typing out a quick response.

you : i’m literally right here.

a second later, your phone buzzed again.

billie : still here.

you let out a soft laugh, dropping your phone onto the blanket. billie looked up, her blue eyes shining in the dark, her smile turning soft and genuine. she reached out, sliding her arm around your waist and pulling you close against her side, burying her face in your shoulder.

"just making sure," she had murmured against your skin. "just making sure you haven't vanished."

"i'm not going anywhere, bils," you had told her, wrapping your arms around her neck.

and you meant it. that was the moment you realized the paranoia was finally gone. the constant, nagging fear that she was going to pull the rug out from under you, that she was just playing a part had slowly, quietly dissolved over the months of her just showing up. she had built the safety back up, brick by brick, not with words, but with her physical, unyielding presence.

"you're doing it again," billie says, pointing her fork at you. "the staring. is there something on my face?"

"just sauce," you say, reaching across the table with a napkin to gently wipe it off her bottom lip.

billie freezes when your fingers touch her face, her eyes locking onto yours. even now, after all this time, she still gets this incredibly soft, reverent look whenever you touch her. like she can't quite believe she's allowed to be this close to you. like she's still trying to memorize every single second of it.

"thanks," she whispers, her voice suddenly dropping an octave.

"you're welcome," you say softly, pulling your hand back.

she watches you for another second before she speaks again, her voice hesitant, her jaw tightening just a fraction.

"do you… do you remember when we first started dating again?" she asks, her fingers tracing the edge of her plate. "like, officially?"

"of course i do," you say, a small smile playing at your lips. "you were a complete mess."

"i was not a mess!" she protests, though she's blushing now, the pink color spreading across her cheeks and up to her ears. "i was… strategic."

"billie, you almost burned down your kitchen trying to make pasta."

"that was a different night!" she groans, covering her face with her hands. "i'm talking about the actual night i asked you. the kitchen was fine. mostly."

it was a sunday in late may. the semester was officially over, and the campus had emptied out again, leaving the streets quiet and peaceful. billie had invited you over to her apartment for dinner, promising that she had learned how to cook something other than boxed mac and cheese.

when you walked in, the place smelled like burnt garlic and expensive olive oil.

billie had been standing by the stove, her dark hair pulled back in a messy bun, desperately stirring a pot of pasta while trying to read a recipe on her phone. she looked incredibly stressed, her shoulders tense, her forehead creased in concentration.

"hey," you had said, walking in and dropping your keys on the counter.

billie had jumped, looking over at you with this wide eyed panic. "hey! you're early. i mean, you're on time, but i'm behind. the garlic got… a little too dark. i think it's still edible, though. mostly."

you had walked over, taking the spoon from her hand and turning the heat down on the stove. "relax, bils. it's just pasta."

"i know," she had said, letting out this long, shaky breath. "i just… i wanted it to be perfect."

she stood there, watching you stir the sauce, her hands shoved deep into her pockets. the silence between you was warm, the light from the kitchen window casting long, golden shadows across the floor.

suddenly, billie cleared her throat.

"hey," she said quietly.

"hm?" you replied, not looking up from the pot.

"can i be your girlfriend again?"

you froze, the spoon stopping in the middle of the red sauce. you slowly turned your head to look at her, blinking in surprise. "again?"

"i liked it the first time," she said, her voice completely sincere, her blue eyes locked onto yours with this unedited vulnerability that made your chest ache. "even though we never actually got to… you know. do it properly. but i liked the idea of it. and i've been trying really hard to be the kind of person you'd actually want to say yes to."

she took a step closer, her jaw clenching slightly as she tried to keep her voice steady.

"i don't want to rush you," she continued softly, her hands coming out of her pockets to gesture vaguely between the two of you. "but i… i'd like to do it properly this time. no bets, no games, no stupid drama. just me. being your girlfriend. if you'll have me."

you had stood there for a long time, looking at the sheer, unyielding determination in her posture. she wasn't asking with flowers or some grand, dramatic speech. she was just standing in her messy kitchen, smelling like burnt garlic, offering you her whole heart on a silver platter.

"yes," you had whispered.

billie had blinked, her breath catching in her throat. "yes?"

"yes, billie," you had said, a wide smile finally breaking across your face. "you can be my girlfriend properly this time."

the relief that had washed over her face was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. she didn't let out a victory yell, and she didn't jump to pull you into a kiss. she had just let out this long, shuddering sigh, her shoulders dropping, and then she had stepped forward and wrapped her arms around you, burying her face in your neck.

"thank you," she had whispered, her grip so tight you could barely breathe. "i swear to god, i'm going to make you so happy."

and she did. every single day since then.

"you really were a mess, though," you tease her now, taking a bite of your pasta. "you had garlic sauce on your nose the entire time."

"shut up," she laughs, throwing a piece of bread at you. "i was adorable and you loved it."

"yeah, yeah," you say, catching the bread and eating it. "keep telling yourself that."

after dinner, the two of you wash the dishes together. it's a quick, quiet routine. you wash, she dries, both of you bumping shoulders in the narrow space of the kitchen. there's no music playing, just the sound of the running water and the occasional clink of plates, but it doesn't feel empty. it feels full. it feels like home.

"let's go for a walk," billie says, tossing the dish towel onto the counter. "the weather is too nice to stay inside."

"where do you want to go?"

"just around," she says, grabbing her keys from the bowl by the door. "the quad. it's probably completely empty right now."

the campus is indeed quiet when you walk out. the summer break has cleared out most of the students, leaving the brick paths and green lawns deserted under the darkening sky. the air is warm and heavy with the scent of cut grass and blooming flowers, a soft breeze rustling the leaves of the old oak trees.

billie reaches down, her fingers sliding effortlessly into yours, her grip warm and steady.

as you walk, your eyes drift toward the library rising up in the center of the campus. in the dark, the building looks massive and silent, the windows on the third floor completely dark.

"you know," billie says, her voice quiet as she follows your gaze. "i still think about that night on the roof."

"which one?" you ask, looking over at her. "the first time, or the second?"

"both," she says softly, her fingers tightening around yours. "but mostly the second. when i asked you for five minutes."

"you took way more than five minutes, by the way."

"i know," she smiles, a faint, reflective look coming over her face. "i was so terrified you were going to tell me to go to hell. when you said you hadn't stopped liking me… i swear to god, my heart stopped beating for a second. i thought i was dreaming."

"i couldn't lie to you," you say, stopping by the edge of the lawn. "even when i was angry, even when i was hurt… i still loved you, billie. that was the hardest part. trying to figure out how to protect myself from someone i still wanted to hold onto."

billie stops too, turning to face you. she reaches up, her cool hand coming to rest against your cheek, her thumb sliding over your cheekbone with a tenderness that makes your breath catch.

"i want to kiss you," she whispers, her blue eyes dark and intense in the twilight. " i wanna kiss you until my breath literally gives out from longing for your lips. i wanna spend the night in your arms until the world feels too suffocating and your embrace is the only place big enough for me. i never wanna leave your side until our souls merge into one. I want you close, i want your love, your soul. i just want all of you to be mine."

the words are so raw, so completely stripped of any playfulness or hesitation, that they hang in the warm air between you like a physical weight. your heart does that strange, slow thud, the same one it did months ago in your grandma's kitchen, but this time there is no fear attached to it. there is only a profound, beautiful certainty.

"then kiss me," you say softly.

and she does.

she leans in, her lips finding yours in a slow, deep kiss that feels like the end of a long, exhausting journey. it’s not the desperate, frantic kiss of two people trying to save a sinking ship. it’s the quiet, steady kiss of two people who have finally reached the shore. her other hand slides around your waist, pulling you flush against her body, her warmth wrapping around you like a shield against the rest of the world.

you melt into her, your hands finding the soft fabric of the gray hoodie she’s still wearing, pulling her closer until there is absolutely no space left between you.

when she finally pulls back, she doesn't go far. she rests her forehead against yours, her eyes closed, both of you breathing in the same quiet air.

"you're stuck with me now, you know," she murmurs, her lips brushing against yours as she speaks. "i'm never letting you go."

"good," you whisper, sliding your arms around her neck. "because i don't think i could get rid of you even if i tried."

she chuckles, a low, rumbling sound in her chest that you feel against your own. she kisses your forehead, then your nose, before finally pulling back enough to offer you her hand again.

"come on," she says, her smile bright and completely free of any shadows. "let's go to the roof. the actual roof."

the walk up the library’s concrete stairs is different this time. there's no heavy, aching weight in your chest, no careful silence between you. billie is practically dragging you up by the hand, her boots clicking loudly against the steps as she laughs at something you said.

when she pushes the heavy metal door open, the cool evening air hits you, but it doesn't feel cold anymore.

the campus below is a beautiful grid of yellow streetlights and dark trees, the sky above a deep, velvet blue dotted with the first few stars of the night.

billie walks over to the brick ledge, but instead of leaning against it alone, she sits right on top of it, swinging her legs over the edge. she pats the space next to her, looking at you with an expectant grin.

"is this safe?" you ask, walking over.

"completely," she says, reaching out to help you up. "i've got you."

you climb up, sitting close next to her on the cold stone. the height doesn't make you dizzy anymore. you lean your head against her shoulder, wrapping your arms around yourself against the light breeze.

billie immediately wraps her arm around you, pulling you tight against her side, her chin resting on top of your head.

"what?" you ask, noticing she's gone quiet.

"nothing," she says, her voice incredibly soft. "you're just… really pretty."

you let out a soft snort, nudging her side with your elbow. "you're such a loser."

"yeah," she agrees easily, kissing the top of your head. "hopeless."

"probably," you smile, closing your eyes and breathing in the smell of her. the faint vanilla from the laundry, the metallic scent of the night air, and the distinct, warm scent that is just uniquely billie.

"good," she whispers.

you stay like that for a long time, just watching the quiet world below. there are no more words that need to be said, no more apologies to make, no more promises to extract. the silence between you is completely filled, solid and unbreakable.

finally, you let out a soft, satisfied sigh, sliding down from the ledge.

"walk me home?" you ask, looking up at her.

billie stands up first, her boots hitting the concrete with a solid thud. this time, she doesn't ask if she can.

she simply offers her hand, her blue eyes shining with everything she has become, and everything she will continue to be.

"always," she says.

you take her hand, her fingers locking instantly with yours, and together, you walk home.

thank you for reading ₊˚⊹ ৻ꪆ

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

© verysweetly | all rights reserved.

[verysweetly]

hmm.. chapter 11 today?

[verysweetly]

do you hate us🧍🏾‍♀️

[verysweetly]

Are we at least getting it by the end of 2026? 😃

you have so much faith in me

[verysweetly]

the way im itching for chapter 11

put some lotion on 🩷

[verysweetly]

you should totes make a pt. 4 to the greatest series ykyk if you want do ofc.. 🤔 not that i like.. desperately need it tho just a recommendation

i forgot i even wrote that

[ellae1l1sh]

hmmm where is this energy now hmmm @verysweetly

[verysweetly]

delete this.

[verysweetly]

DROP THE LAST PART 😤

absolutely not.

[verysweetly]

hi just a question.. do you hate me and my bloodline?! where is chapter 11 😞

yes i do

[verysweetly]

‧₊˚ ℬillie eilish ‧₊˚.

𓂃𓍯 where i soften 𖥻 : what starts as a joke about rating kisses becomes a quite reminder of how safe it feels to go soft with someone who notices.

𑄻 first night in﹗₊˚. : moving out was supposed to be stressful.. but first night in together proves its everything but.

𑣲 𝒻or you 𖥻⠀ׁ ׅ : you set up a fake date to prank your gf billie but somehow, she turns it into the most perfect night ever.

‧₊˚ soon to be familiar aisles ༉‧₊˚. : first time stocking your kitchen and somehow billie makes even the frozen aisles feel the warmest.

prankster in my bed. ಣ𓈒ֵ۫ ˚ : billie thinks its hilarious to act grossed out while wiping the spoon after feeding you.

𐚁̸ 𝓉he better version 𓂃˚‧ : just a random tuesday night but also a reminder that the best scenes don’t need a script 💌

‧₊˚ 𝓉ransparent .☘︎ ݁˖‧ : girlfriend billie pretending shes dying for some extra attention. how adorable.

🗒️ ៶៶ׄ 𝒪ff the clock 𓏲 : months of office tension and fake excuses finally hitting a breaking point.

𑄹 𝒽eld until morning .ּ ִֶָ ૢ⊹ : you come home too tired to function. she takes care of the rest.

ℋer greatest project ₊ ⊹ ♰ [series]

- 𝒫ink letters [series]

© verysweetly | est. january 2026.

[sweetestglaze]

࣪ ˖ this person is the best fanfiction writer i have ever stumbled upon

[verysweetly]

thats genuinely so kind of you 🥹🥹 thank you 💕