If Only Women Were Real😩

A/N: Wow so I’m gonna kill some of yall w this🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

Y/n is a Christian girl going to university struggling to balance religion and her studies. She has no time to think about love and definitely not love that displeases her savior.

Mornings have always been slow and sloppy for me. Headache and flimsy legs dragging me around. Dry lips and dryer eyes protesting against even the idea of waking up and a desperate prayer said solely to get me out of bed.

This morning is not different. My alarm goes off, I let it ring a few seconds too long already starting to feel my headache before my eyes even bother opening and it makes me squeeze them together as tight as I could with as weak as the human body is in the morning. Discomfort and dull pains from my awkward sleeping position set in and my fingers scratch at my exposed hip. I lift my head from my pile of pillows, light instantly hitting my eyelids like a warning before I open them.

A heavy sigh slips past my dry sticky lips and I bow my head.

‘Thank you for another day of life’ I pray before peeling my blanket off of my body.

I make my way to the bathroom rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. I turn on the light and I’m instantly hit with reminders in bright colors written on sticky notes.

“Happy is the one with a clean body and mind” written on a baby blue sticky note on my shower door. The message rings in my head as I strip to bathe.

Pastor Willous says it’s important to have the word of God in every part of your day, as a means of reassurance and confidence in his ways.

Though in some moments, tired moments, his word begins to feel taunting. More like laws than love, like he’s watching, in waiting for the moment I slip. Nonetheless I turn my shower head on.

The shower soothes my aching muscles while making me fight back sleep even harder. I slowly lower myself to the floor, pulling my knees to my chest as warm water someway, somehow still finds itself in the crease of my skin and I let it.

It eventually clumps my eyelashes, heavy with the water accumulating and only then do I stand up to bathe.

The morning flows slowly but smoothly. Lessons dragging on. Professor angels even had a lot to say… and he’s communications. I could only pray for the patience to get through my morning classes.

‘Lord please lend me unshakable patience to make it through my morning lectures, amen’-

“Class dismissed.” Mr Lincon concludes his speech about memorizing the new organic chemistry chemical reactions.

In other words something I couldn’t care less about.

I like to think God knew exactly that.

As I’m walking off campus to get some lunch I trip over an entire person. As I’m falling I catch her book subconsciously making sure my thumb marks her page before bracing for impact.

I feel a shuffle and then a slight damp hand around my wrist pulling me to my feet. As I gain my balance rushed apologies and panicked pleas distract me from making eye contact with the person I had just inconvenienced.

As I look up I find deer like brown eyes. A glaze over them that makes my breath catch and my gaze settle. Beautifully done delicate curls framed the girls face, flowing over her cheeks as she also rushed out her words.

She brushed my sleeves off of any grass I had recovered from my fall and I feel her hand rest at my wrist taking her book, careful not to lose her page. She looks up and her expression shows one of shock and a hint of maybe amazement in her irises?

“Damn.” She said breathy through a sigh. She lingers near my body inspecting my face like she had just made a groundbreaking discovery.

I take a step back noticing our close proximity and something about the distance feels cold. Her fingertips retract from my wrist and she clears her throat brushing her shirt off.

“Wow. You’re like.. really pretty.” She says shaking her head slightly in disbelief.

I pause.

Look beside me.

Then back at gods work shown through a girl and my eyes widen.

“Me?!” I say slightly louder than I had intended.

“I mean who else?” She says laughing at my tone and volume almost just as disbelieving as she was.

I pause again looking at her. Really looking at her.

She’s got eyes tilted upwards following her cheekbones flawless while still staying round and big. Eyebrows straight and thin enhancing her soft features. Her lips plump glossed and tinted pink, my gaze lingers there a little before I snap myself back into the moment.

“Oh! Well so are you, you’re like gorgeous” I say with softness after regaining my composure.

“Um well I’m really sorry again maybe I could make it up to you- Actually, what’s your chipotle order?” I say looking down at my phone to write her order down in my notes app.

My finger tremble as I fight the urge to look at her face again scared of the thoughts that might come. Her face sending me into a place I wasn’t familiar with. One only seen as anything but moral by my gods standards for sure.

She lowers my hands while speaking.

“Oh, babe that’s not necessary. It was an accident, it happens.” She says in such a suave tone.

I want to hear it again.

“Well could I have your name? I’ll try to avoid ever falling over you again when I can put name to face.” I say through light giggles not doing anything to conceal my nervousness.

“Manon.” She says nodding her head

“..and your is..?” She hesitates wanting me to finish the sentence.

“Y/n.”

“Well it was clumsy meeting you. Let’s do it again” she says laughing too now.

She grabs my phone typing her number in instead of her intended chipotle order.

I inhale sharply through my nose not knowing how to take the interaction as she walks off.

She was so pretty. So nice and elegant in the unmistakable way only a miracle could explain.

Wow. Someone’s prayers were answered just with her existence.

I found myself thinking about her over my burrito bowl.

How could someone be so beautiful. She felt bold yet so gentle. I can’t explain it. I somehow can still feel the sensation of her fingertips against my wrist.

I HAVE SO MANY GOOD IDEAS AND ID TAKE REQUESTS TOO

WARNINGS: depression (please let me know if there’s anymore I’d hate to trigger anymore)

A/N: this one was so interesting to write

Reader is immortal and struggling to be completely blunt. Billie moves in next door. Can she help reader feel something again? Is it fate?

By the time I was released it was 12am the next day. I hadn’t realized all the time I spent looking out the window, until the sky no longer resembles a shard in her eyes. Though she wasn’t here her presence still layered heavy in the room.

Maybe it was the linger of her body mist, or her body heat that hasn’t yet subsided since she left. She was very warm. But being hooked up to tubes while ill made it feel sweaty and sticky. Her presence alone sweat my fever out of me. She’s so different.

And not the different people like to pretend to be, the different you can’t help but feel and the person can’t help but radiate. She’s not something you can ignore not something you can grasp immediately but something that makes you want to, just for a second understand what makes her who she is. But her pity masked for vulnerability makes her all the same… or at least I think.

Once I reached the clear automatic doors of the hospital I remember I’ll eventually be back and those thoughts are what make me want it not to be true. I don’t want to be stuck in a clean white box meant for the dirty and sick. I don’t want to be restrained by the treasure people titled life and I’ve renamed…my curse.

The doors welcome me to the place that brought me there. And I walk out relieved that I’m back in the world I’m so familiar with, the world I’ll never get to leave… God, I need to raise my standards.

I see a poorly written post it note on my door with the words “breakfast? I know that hospital stuff sucks it makes me sick IS THAT HOW THEY KEEP PEOPLE THERE SO LONG?!” I laugh knowing exactly who it’s from. I tuck it in my pocket and sigh as I enter my home.

My unmade bed greats me to my room. I’m quick to forget about it and lie down.

“There’s beauty in disaster you know.” What does she mean. What beauty has ever come out of disaster. Jack died in titanic, nothing beautiful but that lie, “I’ll never let go jack. I’ll never let go”… ironic.

Before I could finish my thoughts the sun was rising. I turn my head, part of my blanket covering my left eye. I look out of my window at the glowing scene beside me. It feels so close, just outside the glass. In reality it’s 93 million miles away but I can still feel it. It’s so present and it’s not talked about. Nobody says “the sun looks so beautiful” because it hurts to look at it. But it allows other beautiful things to share its glow. It contributes so much to our lives that we view it as a basic necessity we see all day, though if the sun were a person she’d be famous… Billie has that same glow… what a disaster indeed.

At 7 am I’m standing in front of her house, hesitance rests in my wrist as my fist nears the door, so instead my pointer finger does the honor, pressing the doorbell.

I wipe my hands on my shirt feeling moisturizer accumulating out or nerves, as if this bitch didn’t see me die. Im trying to figure out what facial expression I should use when she opens the door. Deadpan? Absolutely not that embarrassing. Smirk? Dude who are you trying to impress?

She opens the door and I look down at my feet?! Ok, yeah so just completely forget the plan that’s perfect.

“You made it! Please come in” she says too enthusiastic for 7am.

I look up and she steps aside to let me in. I walk in and forget what to do with my arms. Literally what is wrong with me right now? It’s just breakfast.

She walks to the kitchen and only then do I remember I have legs. I walk over to her dining island and I take a seat at one of the stools. She begins plating the food when she peeks over her shoulder and chuckles. Her shoulders jitter on tempo with her laugh, her eyes squint and her nose scrunches… but I didn’t say anything.

“You nervous?” She says jokingly, but it was so soft. Why does she speak to me like that? I don’t know how to reply when she says these things, she makes it so hard to lie. Because how rude would it be not embarrassing myself with the truth to such a genuine face.

“I don’t know” I say picking at the skin around my nails.

She notices and puts a hand over both of mine.

“Let’s eat” she says even softer.

She sits my plate in front or me and pushes herself up on top of the counter and sits pretzel style.

“So uh how’d you sleep?” She says in a way that made her seem unsure of the question she just asked.

“I didn’t” I said with a bit of hash brown muffling my words.

And she just looks at me.

Not in the creepy way but it still makes me uncomfortable. Her gaze slips to my eyes like that’s all she cares to see, like she wants to know how they speak… like she wants to understand me.

“What were you thinking about?” She says with more resonance. I don’t think this is small talk anymore.

“I was thinking about what you said to me back at the hospital” I say breaking eye contact.

She nods telling me to go on.

“I don’t know what you see in me.” I said this in a lower tone and the air in the room begins to feel heavy.

“Me either.” She says and turns to lay on her back.

“I don’t know what I’m seeing at all” she pauses.

“I don’t understand it yet” another pause.

“But it’s pretty.” She says turning her head to look at me again.

I don’t think she understood what I said. Or maybe she did. Which ever it is doesn’t matter. Because I think I’m more comfortable with her looking at me now.

The rest of breakfast was quiet. Not quiet like silent but quiet like lighter than our first conversation. We laughed and she told stories.

And we looked at each other.

“Alright well I should probably go.” I say after finishing dishes, wiping my hands on my pants.

“Oh, why?” She say sitting up on the counter again.

“Cus I thought you wanted me over for breakfast.” I say hesitant not exactly understanding her question.

“Cmon dude stay for a movie.” She says happily.

“Bro who watches movies in the morning?” I say to poke fun.

“Uh, ME!? Now sit.” She says running over to the couch and patting the spot next to her.

“Fucking dork” I whisper.

I sit and she pulls me flush into her side. My eyes widen and she pokes my nose.

“Get comfortable it’s a long one.”

And I’m stuck there stiff as hell, but I don’t wanna move either.

Billie would shift sometimes during the movie. So I ended up falling asleep with my head on her shoulder. I felt her run fingers through my hair and I was out.

When the movie ends Billie woke me up.

“Alright dude you suck you fell asleep not even half way in.” She says nudging me.

“I mean I did tell you I didn’t get sleep.” I say through a yawn.

“Touché” she says after a small pause.

“Alright I’m actually gonna go now. Breakfast was great.” I say getting up and sliding on my shoes.

I grab the door knob and-

“Come back tomorrow?” She says hopeful.

I should say no.

WARNINGS: suicide, self harm, and depression (please let me know if there’s anymore I’d hate to trigger anymore)

A/N: this series doesn’t get a lot of attention but it’s so fun to writing so I’m gonna continue.

Reader is immortal and struggling to be completely blunt. Billie moves in next door. Can she help reader feel something again? Is it fate?

The air grows thicker as the silence finally takes the stage between us. It’s not awkward, it’s intense. It’s warm and cold, like a tornadoes beginning. Not even a chainsaw could cut through this tension.

"I'm sorry again" she says sounding as though she sees me, as if she knew it all. But if she did she wouldn't have said that. I don't want an apology because she doesn't even know how it hurt me, her apology only twists the truth like a dagger through my gut. It only pushes me deeper into that corner of guilt. She isn't saying sorry because of what she did she's saying sorry because it's what she thinks is gonna help and that's not an apology..... that's pity.

But I'm the only one to blame. She wouldn't have said sorry if I wasn't as pathetic. If my eyes could have lied just once maybe 'sorry' wouldn't have been her truth.

"Im alright, don't worry." I say not letting my walls fall. I don't say l'm fine anymore because how much people have twisted it to mean otherwise, saying it feels desperate and l'd never let those attention seeking words fall from my lips. "I'm fine" makes people look at you with pity AS IF YOU DIDNT JUST SAY THE PHRASE THAT SHOULD DO THE OPPOSITE! People like to say "it's ok to ask for help" but their help is never the kind I want. They shove themselves down your throat trying to get you to throw up the truth until you're more empty from when you simply opened your mouth for it, apparently that's the only invitation they need.

They shove and shove like my fingers down my throat when I feel I’ve eaten too much. They are the epitome of “too much” so excuse me if I don’t want the help anymore.

“Are you always like that?” She says with a look of confusion and extreme concern, as if she’d already elaborated, like what she was asking was an “elephant in the room” question.

“Like what?” I ask feeling oddly ridiculous for not knowing exactly what she’s saying, but with a pretty face like that how could I not be embarrassed. With her I feel like it’s only natural I know what she’s talking about, but maybe that’s rude of me. Her face isn’t what comes out of her mouth, the visual isn’t always the picture, principal isn’t always scenario…. Maybe I should think of myself that way.

“I mean are you always……you know…..” She says hesitantly, trying to ease her way into her question.

Does she think it’ll hurt me? Is it because of how vulnerable I look? Is it my face? Is it my body? Is it me? You know what maybe we shouldn’t be friends. I don’t like having to feel perfect when all I am is outside that lines-

“DO YOU ALWAYS LOOK THAT PERTTY?!” She says with tightly closed eyes and raised hands as if to surrender to me, her eyebrows furrowed in anticipation.

“…..what?” Is she serious? She can’t be, there’s no way. If she thinks I’m pretty then she has to be self-absorbed. If I’m pretty, she’s out of this world. And those eyes, carve some marble and call it art because holy shit are they pretty……pretty….she thinks I’m pretty.

“I mean this whole time I couldn’t stop staring at you, like damn how are you still pretty dead?” She says clearly trying to make me laugh but my pupils only blow with space and sparkling stars as I look into her eyes, zoned out but laser focused on the cosmos in her irises. I’m lost in the glare of her milky comets but, diving into her dairy stars seems dangerous and unnecessary as if I’m lactose intolerant. In other words looking into her eyes makes me almost shit on myself.

I guess I’ve been staring too long because she starts to get that uneasy look on her face. Her hands go up to rub her eye and as if there’s something on it she looks at her hand.

“Is it something I said, if it is I’m sorry about that too” she says still holding eye contact.

Damn she’s good.

I’m the first to look away. I’m starting out the window wondering why she eccepted my immortality so easy. Maybe she does think I’m crazy, or maybe she watches too much tv.

“So what do you think of me now?” I say looking out at the clumpy morning clouds, wishing I was up there too. Without a care in the world floating and drifting out the way to allow the sun to be the lead role. Dancing around it like it’s my god, the sky the most beautiful color identical to her eyes.

I look back to compare the two just to see her closer our matching freckles meeting for the first time.

I gasp slightly at her closeness inhaling her minty breath. Her mouth opens allowing the mist of spear mint to smother my senses.

“I think you’re pretty.” She says it with a slight nod like it’s a secret, but truth.

To me that means it doesn’t mean a thing to her. She only restates what she said before telling me her opinion hasn’t changed.

But how could she…

I’m nothing but a wreck

“There’s beauty in disaster you know.” She says softly.

And with that’s she stands up allowing me to take in her body mist as she walks out the room, no goodbye….but a glance over her shoulder

I used to be a huge billie eilish fan in like 2018 and they were cute fanfics

#bringbackcutefanficsofbillieeilish

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So if you read what I posted you could see that I said that if it was discussed when both were awake then fine though it still weirds me out

ALSO PLEASE DONT OPEN THE SCHOOLS TO KINKS THATS WEIRD

I ain’t readin allat

I’m gonna express my opinion. I’m going to tell the people that care what I think. If you don’t like what I post that’s fine. But why come into my inbox with threats that you’re gonna do the things I’ve expressed I don’t like to me? LIKE THATS WEIRD NO?

But it also tells me what kind of person you are. It tell me that you’re exactly who I’m talking about.

The people that practice in some kinks that I’ve expressed make me feel uncomfortable DONT READ WHAT I SAY!!

Just like what you post makes me uncomfortable, what I post is gonna do the same for you. Just like how what you post make me uncomfortable to express my opinion, what I post may do the same for you.

So let’s just agree to never see eye to eye on kinks.

It’s actually insane because you’re taught about this in school, like this isn’t something people just don’t know is wrong!!

If you write this, or reply to asks that say things like this I think you’re very weird

New series!!!

(I’m still gonna write for tumblr it’s a great pass time and really fun)

A/N: Billie comes in towards the end I’m just trynna ease yall into this (OC NOT AN X READER FIC)

Warnings: Abusive relationships! I think that’s all

Milo’s POV:

I know. So why am I still standing here at my freezer, eyeing frozen chicken breast. Thinking about him makes me sick….. love sick almost.

He’s so preciously pathetic, so splendidly stupid. I hate him like a dog hates a cat but longs for the chase. I hate him like a chef hates a rodent but longs for a Remy.

It’s so ridiculous how easily I’ll follow him with an unfamiliar scent racing me to his skin. He was mine once. Not for long though, but it’s that little moment in time, it’s kept me there in hopes that he’d find his way back too.

A part of me knew it wouldn’t last long. The constant compliments, flowers, texts until sunrise, shameless pda, I knew it was just love bombing.

One thing nobody talks about is the joy in being showered with blinding seemingly endless love. Some say manipulation I say hypnosis. It feels like a fairytale…. But all air strike ends in destruction.

“Boys will be boys” but no one told me men were worse. Their immaturity turns into careless malice. I can’t raise a man…. But maybe I could fix him.

I’ve spent so much time fixing him deep inside I realized I literally didn’t even try to scratch the surface yet. His exterior couldn’t hold all my updates and improvements, so it all crumbled.

And she went and put him back together, leaving my parts to rust in the rain.

So why am I still standing at my freezer ready to prepare him a meal he doesn’t deserve.

Fuck it.

I slam the freezer and begin my climb up the stairs before I hear the front door creak.

There he is in all his obscurity. He looks around the house expecting to see me in the kitchen. As he finally shifts his gaze upwards he sees me, in the middle of the stair case. Looking down at him I feel my fingers tightening on the rail, not out of fear or anger but out of longing.

He opens his mouth

“What’s going on with dinner?” His voice is confused and unamused.

“I didn’t make any”. I saw quietly just so that he could hear.

He got visibly upset and raised his voice a little

“Why not? I just came home from a long days work expecting a hot meal, just to be met with your stupid ass face and no food at all”. His voice has a grumble to it. I feel it rush its way up and create a knot in my throat.

“But you didn’t come from work did you?” I say concealing my voice cracks with a quieter voice.

“You’re not making sense. Answer me Milo. Why isn’t my dinner ready?”

“She didn’t feed you?….shame” my voice more clear with sadness and sarcasm.

A silence rang through the home. His big secret echoing in an unheard volume.

His gaze hardened but I payed no mind to it. I proceeded to walk up the stairs.

Before I could process what was happening behind me I heard loud rapid heavy footsteps approaching me.

He grabbed me by my waist and held me on the stair.

“Get in the fucking kitchen and make my dinner” he whispered lowly in my ear.

Fear found its way in my veins as my body started to shake. All I could do is stand there frozen.

His grip tightened on my waist, nails digging into my sides.

“What the fuck are you waiting for?” He says in a clear angry voice.

“What? She can’t cook?” I say voice obviously unstable. I wasn’t about to cave in.

He grabs a fist full of my hair and pulls it back so that now my head rest on his shoulder. I’m looking up at him with pain and shock.

He sharped his gaze on me

“Don’t get smart with me bitch. It’s either you leave on you make me my goddamn food” his voice stern and full of rage.

He lets go for me to make my decision. I walk down the stairs grab my keys and twist the door knob.

“You’ll be back” he says unbothered.

And with that I get in my car and drive around. He was almost right. I almost did go back. I have nowhere to go so I stopped at the gas station seeing my tank begin to run low.

I walk in and grab an Arizona because I might as well. I walk to to pay

“Can I get 70 on pump 4” I say trying my best to not break in front of this visibly tired cashier.

I pull some money out of my pocket….. I’m 20 short.

Fuck.

“I’ll pay” a gentle voice behind me speaks

“No it’s ok you don’t have to” but I was cut off

“Nah it’s alright don’t worry about it” she says with a casual smile on her face. Damn that face…. She’s gorgeous.

“Thank…you” I say in slowly in awe of her beauty.

“No problem, it’s Billie by the way” she say while paying for my gas and Arizona.

“Milo.” I say introducing myself

“Ooo cool like the hot chocolate right?” She says amused.

“Yeah it’s actually spelled the same too” I say too excited.

“Well Milo where are you headed?” She says curiosity fixing her features.

Silence fell between us. How could I even begin to explain.