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warnings. slight smut, not proof read. (sorry for poor language in some places.)
âââââ
One moonlit night, your best friend took you out to go on a ride, as you often did. it was 3AM, dark outside, only the yellowish soft, street lights coating the cars interior through the windows. some quiet music coming from the radio.
billie had one of her hands on the gear panel, and the other gripping the steering wheel. the watch on her wrist glistening a little, as she looked over at you from the passenger seat. the windows were slightly down, as the cool air breezes through your hair, as she watched you, her eyes sparkling. you were so pretty.
billie always been attracted to you, of course- you were gorgeous, but to add to it, you had the sweetest personality ever. and she knew and saw it from the first time she laid her eyes on you, even if unfortunately, that day, 2 years ago, she got to know about your boyfriend, she still couldnât help but fall in love. she didnât care about your stupid boyfriend.. she could treat you so much better.
and now her soft fingers gripping your thigh, going just slightly under your skirt, didnât help at all.. she was nervous, scared to push too much, even if you two had always been touchy. but you never seemed to mind one bit. slightly spreading your legs for her hand.
billie looked at the empty road in front of them again, that shit-eating grin on her pretty face.. as she slowly moved her hand higher up your thigh. she was toying with the fabric of your skirt, so nonchalantly, if she isnât already shaking herself.
she hit the brakes, speeding up. exactly like your heart. you loved when she went fast. you would go anywhere she takes you..
one moment, and you felt her hand reach the lace of your panties, her fingertips against your heat, as you let out that soft whimper. it was over for her. next thing you know, the car was stopped, and her leaning over to you.
âBackseat.â she whispered, her tone laced with desire, like she couldnât wait to have you. the look in her eyes told you everything you needed to know.
summary: when a relationship that once seemed destined to last falls apart under the pressure of life, both you and billie try to move forward the only way you know how: separately. but, an unexpected reunion uncovers old feelings, lingering questions, and the painful realization that sometimes life can be changed by the words that never reach the person who needed them most.
a/n: iâm on an angst streak! iâm on a stupid long road trip so i have lots of time to write. i hope ya like it!
you and billie had a great relationship, until fame hit her like a brick wall. one day, things seemed like they were normal. date nights, relaxing times together at home, everything was perfect. the next, her life seemed to move at a speed neither of you could keep up with.
tour schedules stretched across continents. label meetings filled every free afternoon. interviews, photoshoots, rehearsals, flights, appearances⊠there was always somewhere she needed to be and something she needed to do. it wasnât really anyoneâs fault. success was something the two of you had dreamed about for years, and now that it was finally happening, neither of you knew how to complain about it without feeling guilty.
you understood her life. after all, youâd been a part of it for so long. long before the sold-out arenas and screaming crowds, before the awards and magazine covers, youâd been her best friend. falling in love with billie had never felt like a dramatic turning point. if anything, it felt inevitable, like the natural next chapter of a story that had already been unfolding for years.Â
but understanding why something was happening didnât make it hurt any less.Â
missed calls became missed conversations. arguments lingered unresolved because one of you always had somewhere else to be. texts that used to get answered within seconds suddenly sat unopened for hours, sometimes days. eventually, you found yourself asking for attention that billie genuinely wanted to give you, but couldnât seem to find the time for anymore.
the worst part was that neither of you stopped loving each other. you were simply exhausted. so after months of trying to force things to work around impossible schedules and growing frustrations, you both made the decision to end the relationship.
there wasnât a dramatic fight. no screaming. no betrayal. just two people sitting across from each other and admitting that maybe love wasnât enough to fix everything. you promised youâd stay friends. for a while, you even managed it.
you attended shows when you could. after-parties. birthdays. award ceremonies. whenever your paths crossed, you hugged, smiled, and slipped back into old conversations with an ease that made everything feel normal again. until it didnât.
because every time you saw billie, it felt like her attention was already somewhere else. she was focused on improving the next show, planning the next project, talking with friends sheâd met on tour. sometimes youâd catch her flirting with one of her openers and feel an ugly twist of jealousy settle in your stomach.
you hated feeling that way. hated what it turned you into. so little by little, the distance between you grew. and before either of you realized it, months had passed.
billie lay across the hotel suite bed after another show, staring at the ceiling while the city lights filtered through the curtains. the room was quiet in a way hotel rooms always were. not peaceful. just empty.
her body ached from performing, but sleep felt impossible. every time she closed her eyes, she thought about you. she missed your laugh more than anything. the loud, ridiculous laugh that always made her laugh too.
she missed your smile. your jokes that would make you giggle like teenagers. the way youâd skip ahead of her during date nights only to turn around and walk backward in the middle of the sidewalk because you couldnât tell a story without seeing her reaction. she missed the flowers youâd bring home for absolutely no reason.
most of all, she missed moments like this. coming back after a show and finding you already curled up in bed waiting for her. your arms wrapping around her waist. the familiar weight of your head against her chest. sleepy kisses pressed wherever you could reach before exhaustion finally pulled you under.
god, she missed you. before she could stop herself, she grabbed her phone from the nightstand. your contact was still there. same photo. same conversation. same name. billie stared at it for nearly ten minutes.
her thumbs hovered over the keyboard, typing and deleting the same sentence over and over until frustration made her groan and toss her head back against the pillows.
finally, she typed:
hey.
12:20am
i know this is probably the last thing you want to see. but iâve been thinking about you a lot lately.
12:21 am
another pause.
i miss you. i miss us. i think about you all the time.
12:27 am
i know we broke up for a reason, and iâm not trying to disrespect that. i justâŠÂ idk.
12:31 am
i needed you to know that i still love you. i just think we made a mistake. i need you.
12:36 am
she hit send. then waited. hours passed. nothing. a day. nothing. a week. nothing. eventually, weeks turned into months. still nothing.
billie cried over it more times than sheâd ever admit. but she respected what she believed was your answer. silence. she convinced herself you had seen the messages and chosen not to respond. so she left you alone.
what she didnât know was that you felt exactly the same. your life had simply changed. a few weeks after the breakup, you landed a new internship. the company provided work phones, and eventually your old number was replaced with a new one. a new job. a new number. a new chapter.
and because of that, every single message billie had sent disappeared into the void. you never received them. you never knew she spent months crying over you. she wanted another chance with you.
she sat awake at three in the morning rereading old conversations and wishing sheâd handled things differently. you assumed she had moved on. you thought her career had simply become more important.
it was the exact reason your relationship had ended in the first place. so eventually, you moved forward too. because what else were you supposed to do?
a year and a half later, you sat in one of your favorite coffee shops in los angeles.
ironically, it had always been one of billieâs favorites too. a frequent lunch date location. your laptop sat open in front of you while you worked at one of the tall side booths along the wall. the familiar chime above the entrance rang.
you glanced up, and froze. billie. black gym shorts. oversized white graphic tee. backward green dodgers cap. jordan 4s. mismatched socks. youâd recognize her anywhere. for a moment, neither of you moved. then she smiled, small and tentative.
âhi.â you smiled back. âhey.â she walked to the counter and ordered, her usual. âa medium iced vanilla oat milk latteâ you gathered as you read her lips.
while she waited, she glanced toward seat opposite of you at your table. âmind if i sit?â she asked, gently, not wanting to impose. you closed your laptop. ânot at all.â she smiled and sat down. for a few minutes, conversation came surprisingly easy.
how you were. your friends. billieâs family, including shark. life. the tour. anything except the thing sitting between the two of you.
âyou look good,â billie said softly. âthank you, you do too, bil.â something flickered across her face. then she looked down at the table. âyou know,â she cleared her throat. âi texted you. was kinda sad you didnât respond.â she played it off with a nervous snicker and hand thrown on the table. your stomach dropped, but you laughed it off. âno, you didnât.âÂ
billieâs eyebrows furrowed. âyeah.â she looked confused, still smiling. âi did.â you stared. âwhen?â
âlike six months after we broke up. i was on the last leg of tour and it was late. thought you just ignored me, to be honest.â your smile vanished. suddenly your mind was racing. six months after the breakup. the internship. the new phone. the number change. your eyes widened.
âbillieâŠâ her expression slowly changed. âi got a new number.â silence. âwhat?â billieâs voice came out, quiet and unbelieving.
âi got a new number around that time. i got that internship i had told you about months before then.â your throat tightened. âi never got any texts from you.â the color drained from billieâs face. âyou didnât?â
you shook your head. âno.â for a moment neither of you spoke. because suddenly every missed opportunity. every assumption. every day spent healing. every attempt to move on. all came crashing down at once. a phone buzzed and without missing a beat, billie glanced down.
incoming call: nat â„ïž
you recognized the name instantly. billieâs opener, now boyfriend. you had suspected it from the obvious flirting youâd witnessed backstage in the green room. her best friendâs brother. your chest ached, but you covered it with a grin anyway. âif you have to take that itâs okay. i understand.âÂ
billie swallowed hard, containing what composure she had left after the bomb that was dropped between the two of you. you nodded, trying not to show any signs of the emotions brewing inside you. âiâm happy for you.â her eyes shimmered with tears, slightly pink. for a second, she looked away. and you couldnât tell if it was guilt, regret, or grief. maybe all three.
âit was really good seeing you.â her voice cracked. âyou too.â you echoed. billie stood and walked to the front counter, her tattooed hand grabbed her slightly-watered down iced latte from the front counter. looked at you one last time and smiled. the same smile youâd fallen in love with years ago.
âsee you around, babe.â you both knew she wouldnât. neither of you exchanged numbers. neither of you asked. some doors only hurt more when you try to reopen them.
billie made it halfway into her house before she fell apart. her vision blurred. she ran to her room and gently sat on her bed, one hand covering her mouth as a broken sound escaped her chest.
"fuck." the word came out strangled. another breath. another. but it didn't help. because all she could think about was the look on your face when you'd told her you never got the messages. all those months. all that time. you hadn't ignored her. you hadn't rejected her. you hadn't decided you were better off without her.
you never knew.
billie hands slid down her face smearing the mascara she had put on that morning. tears streamed down her face unchecked. she thought about that night in the hotel room. the way her hands had shaken while she typed. the way she'd stared at her phone for weeks afterward waiting for an answer that never came.
she remembered crying herself to sleep, believing so many falsehoods as faith. that you had moved on. that you didn't want her anymore. god. you never even saw the messages. a laugh escaped her through the tears. except it wasn't really a laugh. it sounded more like grief. because suddenly every memory hurt. every moment she'd spent missing you. every relationship she'd thrown herself into trying to move forward.
times she'd told herself that things happened for a reason. all of it. wasted. not because the two of you had failed. not because you didn't love each other enough. because of a phone number. a fucking phone number. billie buried her face in her hands.
for a few minutes, she let herself mourn. not you. she'd been mourning you for years. she mourned the future she'd lost. the one where you wouldâve answered. where she picked up the phone and heard your voice, the two of you would have met for coffee six months after the breakup instead of a year and a half later.
maybe it wouldâve worked it out. sheâd have learned how to balance fame and love. sheâd come home to you. that version of her life had died before it ever got the chance to exist. now she was standing at its funeral.
eventually, the tears slowed. her breathing steadied. the ache remained. it probably always would. billie wiped her face with the hem of her shirt and looked down at her phone. three missed calls. all from nat. she stared at the screen for a long moment. then pressed call. it rang twice.
"hey, baby." nat's voice came through the speaker, warm and familiar. "everything okay?"
billie closed her eyes. for a second, she almost broke again. but then she pictured you sitting in that coffee shop. healed. moving forward. living a life that no longer had room for the two of you. she mumbled, âyeah iâm fine.â billie held back her sniffles so she didnât spiral into a sob. she quickly wrapped up the conversation and hung up, wanting to be alone in her thoughts.
the silence carried on around her as if nothing had happened. like she hadn't just discovered that the greatest heartbreak of her life had been a misunderstanding, right when she had just healed from the pain and loss; after she buried the last remaining idea of what could have been. with one final thought towards you, billie had a realization, clear in her mind.
warnings: older!billie x younger!reader, slowslowslow burn, eventual smut, college life, hella tension
summary: you never expected your literature professor to be young, sharp-tongued, and devastatingly captivating - but professor eilish is all that and more. between tense lectures, stolen glances, and secrets that linger after class, you find yourself tangled in a dangerous game of curiosity and control. how long can you keep it professional when the air between you burns with something more?
the hallway smelled like coffee and printer ink. lockers lined the walls even though no one really used them, and the sound of someone's sneakers squeaking across the linoleum echoed faintly. it was too early for anything to feel real, and liora was still half-dreaming when she pushed open the classroom door.
the light was soft inside, filtered through high windows that caught the morning haze. students filled the back rows firstâclassic. liora drifted somewhere near the middle, dropped her canvas bag beside the chair, and sank into the seat like she'd been holding her breath all morning.
she barely glanced at the front of the room at first, too busy unzipping her hoodie and smoothing out her notebook. then a voiceâlow, even, and almost too smoothâcut through the sleepy chatter.
"morning, everyone."
liora looked up.
and froze.
the woman at the front of the class wasn't what she expected. not even close.
tall, loose-fitted shirt hanging just right, her dark hair pulled back under a knit beanie like she hadn't tried at all and still managed to lookâcool. cool in a way that made your chest tighten. her eyes, pale and unreadable, swept the room with a kind of calm confidence that didn't ask for attention but got it anyway.
professor o'connell.
liora didn't breathe until billie looked away.
billie set her laptop down on the desk and clicked something open on the screen. the soft tap of keys echoed, then stopped. she glanced up.
"so," she said, voice light but clear, "i'm professor o'connell. billie's fine, too, if that's more comfortable. i teach this course in creative composition and lyrical analysisâbasically, it's english lit, but with more music and fewer essays you'll want to set on fire."
a few people chuckled, sleep still hanging off their voices. liora's stomach twisted. she didn't laugh, but her mouth tugged at the corner like it wanted to.
billie's eyes drifted back to the roster on her screen.
"let me just get a sense of who's here," she murmured, then started reading names.
"elliot abram?"
"here."
"cassidy baines?"
"present."
"liora... rai?"
"i'm here"
billie nodded slowly, her gaze lingering just a moment too long. "beautiful name," she said, like it meant something. "thank you."
liora stared down at her notebook. the top of the page blurred slightly before she forced herself to breathe again.
billie continued reading names, but the heat in liora's cheeks didn't go away. her full name never rolled off anyone's tongue like thatânever without hesitation, never with intention.
when roll was done, billie leaned against the desk, her arms folded. "okay. i don't like icebreakers. they're awkward and fake and you all secretly hate them."
a few students laughedâthis time, liora included.
"but i do want to know who you are. not in the cheesy way. in the why-are-you-here way."
she pushed her hair behind one ear and nodded toward the board.
"your first assignment's simple. it's not graded. i just want you to write a page about this questionâwhat does music say that words can't?"
the room quieted.
billie continued, soft and serious now. "i don't care if you've never written anything in your life. this isn't about being good. it's about being honest."
someone raised their hand in the back. "can we write lyrics?"
"you can write in blood, for all i care," billie said, and a few students laughed again. "just don't be boring. if you're boring, i'll know."
her eyes flicked back to lioraâquick, but unmistakable.
liora swallowed.
the lecture started slow.
not boring, just... soft. like billie was setting a mood more than teaching. she talked about metaphor, about musical phrasing as narrative structure, about the way a repeated lyric could punch harder than a paragraph. her voice never rushed, never cracked. she didn't fidget, didn't pace. she just leaned her hip against the desk, fingers tracing the edge of her water bottle like she was thinking out loud to a room full of ghosts.
liora watched her the way someone might watch a fireâentranced without realizing it.
she was used to professors being either stiff or overcompensating. too many tried too hard to prove they had authority. billie didn't do that. she just was. and it did something to the room. made everyone quieter. made the air feel heavier.
"there's something music can do," billie said, tapping the board with a dry erase marker, "that essays can't. it cuts through memory. not around it. through it. the right song doesn't remind you of a momentâit puts you in it. like time travel, but with better lighting."
liora didn't write that down, but she knew she'd remember it anyway.
the girl next to her had started doodling in the margins of her notebook. someone behind her was chewing gum too loudly. the boy by the window kept checking his phone. but liora didn't move. her pencil rested against the page, unmoving.
billie walked to the board and wrote:
"when language fails, music answers."
the chalk squeaked slightly. her handwriting was slanted, imperfect. under the lights, the ink on her exposed wrist caught liora's eyeâlyrics tattooed in a fine line script she couldn't read from this far away.
"that's the quote we'll work from next week," billie said. "write it down. argue with it. prove it wrong if you want. just don't ignore it."
liora lowered her gaze. her fingers gripped the pencil. write it down, billie said. like it was just another sentence. like it didn't already live inside her ribs.
billie glanced toward the back row where a group of boys had started whispering. one of them smirked and said something too low for liora to hear, but she caught enoughâsomething about billie's age, the word hot, the phrase bet she's not even a real professor.
billie didn't flinch. she let the silence stretch. then she walked slowly back to her desk, closed her laptop, and looked out across the room.
"if anyone's confused about whether i belong here," she said evenly, "you're welcome to drop this class. i promise your refund window is still open."
quiet.
no one moved.
liora felt something tighten in her chest. not pity. not admiration, either. something in between. like respect, but more personal. she hated the way billie had to defend herself for being young. for being her.
billie's gaze swept the room again, slower this time.
when it landed on liora, it didn't move away.
chairs scraped against tile as the clock hit the hour. papers rustled, bags zipped. the usual chaos of everyone rushing to leaveâexcept for liora.
she moved slower. not on purpose, but something in her refused to follow the current. she tucked her notebook carefully into her bag, slung it over one shoulder, then pretended to fumble with the zipper a second longer than necessary.
billie was still at her desk, sliding her laptop into a worn leather sleeve, fingers moving with practiced ease. her head was tilted slightly, earbuds resting around her neck, a lazy kind of calm on her face that made it impossible to look away.
most of the room had cleared when billie glanced upâand caught her.
"you good?"
liora blinked. "ohâyeah. i just..." she hesitated, then stepped forward. "i had a question. about the assignment."
billie nodded once and leaned her elbow on the desk, fully facing her. "shoot."
liora hated how loud her heart sounded. she tried to ignore it.
"when you said we could write in any form... did you mean, like, lyrics? or poetry? or just... freewriting?"
"any form," billie said. "i meant it."
her voice was gentler now. less classroom, more personal. and now that they were this closeâno rows of desks, no audienceâliora could see the pale freckles scattered across her cheeks, the faint smudge of eyeliner just barely under her lashes. her eyes weren't just blue. they were gray, soft and stormy, with something behind them liora couldn't name.
"so if it's a poem that doesn't really make sense," liora said slowly, "that's still okay?"
billie tilted her head. "does it make you feel something?"
liora nodded before she could stop herself. "yeah."
"then it makes sense."
the words settled between them like warmth. not cheesy, not condescendingâjust simple. true.
liora looked down, letting her fingers curl around the strap of her bag.
"what do you usually write?" billie asked.
liora hesitated, then answered honestly. "stuff i never show anyone."
billie smiledâjust barely. "those are usually the best kind."
she stepped around the desk then, close enough that liora caught the faint scent of something warm and cleanâlike sandalwood and fresh laundry. she reached for a printed syllabus on the edge of the table and handed it to her.
their fingers touched. just for a second. but it was enough to send a pulse through liora's spine.
"just in case you didn't grab one," billie said, casual again, but her voice had dipped lower. "i keep forgetting people actually read these."
liora took it with both hands, as if it were heavier than paper.
"thanks," she murmured.
billie gave a nod, slow and deliberate. "see you thursday, rai."
the way she said her name made liora's stomach flip. it wasn't just the pronunciation. it was the intention. like she wanted to say it again. like she liked saying it.
liora turned and walked out, heart pounding behind her ribs like it was trying to outrun her.
can you write a fic based on billie wanting to film r and her having sex (but like with sub!top!billie pleassee)
i love ur work and i'm sooo happy ur backkkk
kind of not proofread sorry!
"but baby what am i gonna do so far away from you!" billie says in front of you. the both of you were both lying in bed while billie brushed her fingers through your hair. billie had just brought up the fact that the two of you were going to go without sex for 2 months on her first leg of tour.
you laughed at how much she needed you but brushed off the topic. the topic changed, and the two of you talked about random things before it got quiet. you could hear billie's breathing getting heavier.
"what's wrong pretty? what's got your head thinking so hard?" you ask
billie smiled softly, "i want to record us, make a video. something to keep me company when i'm missing you." her eyes sparkled with joy and you could see how much she wanted it. " a video, hm?"Â
your voice was quiet as you whispered in her ear softly running your fingers down her back. "what kind of video do you want to film sweet girl?"
billie whined burying her head in your neck, "you know what i mean baby" she mumbled.
"do i? can you remind me baby?" you tease.
"wanna film us having sex," billie whispers clawing at your clothes.
you laugh quietly and nod at her to go set up the camera. she shot up quickly running to set it up.
she propped the phone up on the bedside table, angling it to capture the entire bed, ensuring everything would be captured. the camera lens stared back at them, a silent witness to the scene about to unfold.
"gonna show you what a good girl i am for you" billie says excitedly. "yeah? gonna be good for me?" you breathe out in anticipation.
your breath caught as billie's lips brushed against your core. the feeling of billie's tongue sending shivers through your body. your back arched, pushing your hips upwards, as she ate you out. billie's mouth was relentless, her tongue flicking and probing, driving you to the brink of ecstasy.
"fuck baby" you gasped, your hands gripping the sheets tightly. "doing so good f'me, making me feel so good, pretty."
billie's moaned at the praise, the vibrations adding to the pleasure. she could get drunk off the taste of you and bathed your continuous praise.
as your moans grew louder, billie slipped two fingers inside curling them to find that sweet spot that would send you over the edge. your body tensed, muscles clenching around billie's fingers as you cried out in release.
"yesss baby. so good for me always. always been my good girl"Â your voice echoed through the room, pushing billie to continue, savoring the taste of your orgasm.
billie crawled up your body, leaving a trail of kisses along your chest. before kissing your lips passionately.
you laughed, a playful glint in your eyes. "can't wait to watch it back. maybe we should make a few more, just to be sure."
tags: updating my tag list let me know if you want to be added!
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch âą No registration required âą HD streaming
authors note: sorry to twist the knife twice, i looove angst
warnings: angst, love for someone in a relationship
you think about her more than you'd ever admit.
not in the obvious ways, not in the blushing, giggly, teenage-daydream kind of way. noâyour love for billie sits deeper. itâs tucked into the corners of your bones, resting beneath your ribs, pressed tight and hidden like something shameful. like something sacred.
every time you text her âi love you,â you mean it like a scream underwater. muffled. desperate. never loud enough to breach the surface. never meant to be heard in the way your heart intends it. she always texts it backâ"love you more đ"âlike itâs easy. like it doesnât tear anything open.
you wonder what sheâd do if she knew. if she saw the way your hands shake when her name lights up your phone. if she knew how many nights youâve fallen asleep picturing what her mouth might taste like between i love you and goodnight.
today is one of those days where youâre trying to forget. youâre doing errands. folding laundry. pretending youâre fine. and then her text comes through:
billie đ: come over?
your heart drops.
you donât even hesitate. everything else evaporates.
you: "rn? ok give me 5"
you throw on the first hoodie you find, barely register the color. it's hersâshe lent it to you months ago and never asked for it back. it still smells like her. you donât let yourself think about that too long. you just grab your keys, tell someone in your house youâll be back soon, and leave. you donât know what youâre going over for, but it doesnât matter. it never matters. when itâs billie, itâs always yes. always.
the drive feels like nothing and forever all at once. your fingers tremble on the wheel. youâre trying to calm your breathing, trying not to imagine her answering the door in a tank top and sleepy eyes, the way she always does. you try not to imagine what it would be like if she pulled you in by the collar, whispered something soft and wrecking against your cheek.
you hate yourself a little for it. for wanting more. for being so goddamn pathetic about her.
you pull into her driveway, and your stomach sinks.
her girlfriendâs car is already there.
you swallow it down. no. you donât get to be upset. sheâs allowed to be happy. sheâs allowed to love someone. itâs not your place. itâs never been your place.
you put your best smile onâit feels like pressing broken glass into your cheeks.
billie opens the door with that same grin, the one that used to make you feel like the world was okay. like maybe she was your safe place. sheâs barefoot, hair in a messy bun, skin glowing. âhey!â she beams. âyou got here so fast.â
âyou said come over.â you shrug, try to laugh it off. âyou know iâd drop anything.â
her girlfriendâs on the couch. you recognize herâpretty, sharp-jawed, the kind of girl who always knows what to say in a group. she waves politely and offers a tight smile.
you smile back, but it doesnât reach your eyes.
they're watching some show, talking about nothing, laughing in the way couples do. you sit off to the side, legs tucked under you, trying not to shrink into yourself.
billie tosses a blanket at you like she always does, like she knows you're cold even when you don't say it out loud. it should feel like home. instead, it burns.
at some point, her girlfriend gets up to use the bathroom. billie turns to you immediately, eyes narrowing.
âokay,â she says quietly. âspill.â
your heart jumps. âwhat?â
âdonât play dumb. iâve known you my whole life, y/n. somethingâs up. youâre breathing weird. are you okay?â
you almost say it.
you almost say, i canât stand watching you love someone else.
you almost say, iâm in love with you and itâs killing me.
instead, you shake your head. ânothingâs wrong.â
âbullshit.â she leans in closer. you can feel the heat of her next to you, the way your body reacts on instinct, like youâre drawn to her by gravity alone. âyou always get this look when youâre upset. like your heart's too heavy for your chest.â
you want to cry.
you want to grab her by the shoulders and scream. tell her that sheâs everything. that sheâs the reason you get out of bed some mornings. that no oneâs ever made you feel more like yourself and less like enough all at once.
but instead, you say, âiâm just tired.â
she stares at you for a second too long. like sheâs trying to read between the cracks. like sheâs waiting for something.
âyou sure?â she whispers.
you nod.
you think your lungs might collapse.
she reaches out and squeezes your hand. just a second. just a flicker of touch. but it wrecks you.
you look down at your knees, suddenly too aware of how your hoodie smells like her. how it still feels like something sacred and stolen.
her girlfriend comes back and billie pulls her hand away, just like that. like it never meant anything.
because to her, it didnât.
the three of you sit there for another twenty minutes. laughing. making dumb jokes. pretending this isnât hell. and when you finally stand up to leave, your legs barely hold you.
âtext me when you get home,â billie says. âyou know i worry.â
you nod again. you canât speak. if you open your mouth, something might come out that youâll never be able to take back.
you get to the door. her girlfriendâs in the kitchen. billie follows you, just for a second, hand brushing your wrist.
âhey,â she says softly. âyou know i love you, right?â
it hits you like a truck. she doesnât mean it the way you do. she never has.
you force a smile. it feels like somethingâs breaking.
âyeah,â you whisper. âi know.â
you turn to go, and she says it behind youâ
"thank you, y/n. you're such a good friend to me."
you donât remember walking to your car.
your feet move but youâre not in them. your body goes through the motionsâunlock, slide in, start the engineâbut your head is somewhere else. still on the doorstep. still in her eyes. still in the echo of that fucking sentence.
âthank you, y/n. youâre such a good friend to me.â
youâve heard her say i love you a hundred times. sometimes in texts. sometimes whispered during late-night phone calls. sometimes at sleepovers when you were half-asleep and warm under the same blanket. it always meant something.
but tonightâit meant nothing.
or maybe it meant everything.
just not the kind of everything you wanted it to.
you pull out of her driveway too fast. youâre shaking. the streetlights blur. your vision goes glassy. you blink hard, but itâs no use.
youâre crying before youâve even turned the first corner.
not the loud kind. not the sobs that shake your whole body. this is different. itâs quiet. itâs shameful. itâs all your ribs caving in at once. itâs your throat closing up like itâs trying to save you from speaking the truth out loud.
you drive in silence.
no music.
no noise.
just the sound of your own breath stuttering in the dark.
you donât go home. not yet. you canât. you wouldnât know how to walk into your house and pretend youâre okay. not like this. not when everything inside you feels like itâs splintered.
you pull into the parking lot of some random grocery store. leave your engine running. sit there in the dim orange glow of a flickering streetlight, clutching the sleeves of the hoodie like itâs a lifeline.
her hoodie.
her scent.
her warmth.
her name pounding in your chest.
you press your forehead to the steering wheel and finally let it all go.
the tears come harder now. like your bodyâs been waiting. like your heartâs had enough of holding everything in. you sob into the silence, mouth open, breath hitching, hands trembling.
why did you have to love her like this?
why couldnât it just be enough to be her friend?
you wouldâve done anything for her.
anything.
but you never stood a chance. not against someone like her girlfriend. someone beautiful. someone bold. someone who could touch her in all the ways you werenât allowed to. someone who didnât flinch when billie leaned in close. someone who didnât fall apart every time she said i love you like a knife disguised as kindness.
you squeeze your eyes shut and try to rewind it all. try to pretend you never came over. that you stayed home. that you never saw the way billieâs hand fit into her girlfriendâs so easily. that you didnât hear the words that finally killed the last stupid hope you were clinging to.
âyouâre such a good friend to me.â
youâve been her friend your whole life.
and now, it feels like a prison you built yourself.
you want to hate her. god, it would be so much easier if you could. if she were cruel. if she strung you along on purpose. but she didnât. she just⊠loved you the only way she knew how.
and it wasnât the way you needed.
your phone buzzes beside you. you already know who it is.
billie đ: did you make it home safe?
you stare at the message for a long time. thumbs hovering over the screen. thereâs a pressure building in your chest like a scream youâre not allowed to let out.
you type.
you: yeah. thanks.
you donât say i love you. not this time.
you just toss your phone onto the passenger seat and let your head fall back against the headrest. your eyes are still wet. your heartâs still breaking. your hands are clenched into fists around the fabric of her hoodie like maybe, if you hold on tight enough, you wonât completely come undone.
taglist: @amara-eilish @bilswifee @iamnicoke @jayjaywetforbils @bittersuitekim @bxllxebxtch @ifnot-foryou @giannaeilish @ijustlovemaths @ilovealiceosemann @bilssturns | send me an ask or comment if you want to be added or removed from my taglist!
summary: during your serving shift you deal with an unruly customer... little did you know you would be walking away with something that made it all worth it?
a/n: hellooo it feels like it has been forever since i've written, but here we are! thinking about another part????
you were almost halfway through your serving shift, which was telling due to your slightly smudged mascara. the server pouch that clung to your right side is slightly flapping due to you hurrying through the pathways of the restaurant with multiple plates in your hands. you've had many sweet customers throughout the day, throwing tips at you like you were a wishing well. you spin around checking on your tables another time as you had some free time. as you are checking in with one of your tables, you look up to see a woman in your section waving her hand in the air. as you finish your conversation, you head over to her to see what you could help her with. "hi, is there anything I can help you wit-" "um yes obviously, that is why I was waving you down" she snaps, as she rolls her eyes. you already felt your blood pressure rising as you took a deep breath, knowing if you didn't calm down it would not end well for anyone. "mhm... what seems to be the problem?" you ask, as a fake smile spreads across your face. "This steak is absolutely disgusting. It is literal rubber. I asked for medium well... not well done! seems to me that you need to start listening better" she sneers, with venom in her tone. you were completely taken back by what she said, but you are not unfamiliar with this behavior. "i'm so sorry, ma'am. I must have misheard. I will get you what you asked fo-" "no bother. I am not paying for this. you know, it seems like you may need some extra training if you cannot keep up with a simple order" she snarls, as she throws her used napkin on the plate. her voice begins to raise, which leads to surrounding eyes diverting their attention to you. you take a deep shaky breath "Is there anything else I can get for you?" "yeah, a new server" she states in an antagonizing tone. you nod your head as you go to alert your manager of what happened, and how she is demanding a new server. as you are walking back, your nerves are evident as your fingers start wiggling by your side. as you come back out, you walk to your next table and check in with them since their food is on the way out.
since you work in Los Angeles, it is not uncommon for celebrities to dine in. you walk up to your table, which sat billie eilish and her friend group. you notice their sympathetic expressions as you smile faintly. "oh my god i am so sorry that just happened" billie says, as her eyes soften. "oh I deal with this all the time" your laugh coming across hollow. "some people just don't know how to act in public, it's a shame" you state, as you slightly shake your head looking down. "also you guys I'm so sorry for the wait. we only have one chef tonight so it's been a little hectic. it should be out before you know it" you smile a little nervous about their response due to what just happened. "oh no don't worry about that, love. we have all the time in the world" billie responds with a gentle smile. her friends join in with "yeah girl, you're completely fine" "it's okay" "you're all good" to which you respond with a sigh of relief. "thank you guys so much for understanding" you state, as you turn to go back to the kitchen. you quickly look towards the table that sat the unhappy woman and saw there was indeed a new server. much stress was then lifted from your shoulders. coincidentally, the food for your table was done as you walk into the kitchen. you grab the serving trays that displayed various orders ranging from vegan to vegetarian dishes. you get to billie's table and hand out each individual plate to everyone. 'thank yous' bouncing off each other as you finish up, and say "you guys enjoy and just let me know if you need anything" with a genuine smile now.
you check in multiple times, and as they finish their meal it is all put on one check. billie gives you her card, and as you walk back you glance at the bill quickly seeing it was over $1,500. you brought the bill back for tip, and tell them to have a good night and thank them for being understanding for the wait. as you are at your other table, you notice billie motioning for the friends to leave as she picks up the pen to write. you go to pick up the slip after she is done where you are met with an almost italicized $1000 written on the thin line. billie has turned to walk towards the door, but hasn't gotten that far. you run up to her and turn her around "you realize this is over half the bill?" you say as you look back into her eyes. "you have really great customer service" she expresses shrugging, giggling a little. "i also had to make up for that lady not paying for her meal" she says, almost reminding you. "you know this is like if you bought twenty-five plates of her order, right?" you say, returning the giggle. "well i think you deserve it" she says, her now leaning back a little with her hands tucked in her back pockets. "I cannot accept all this. you can just tip me twenty percent and that's all I need" you offer as you look into her eyes. "i think you might just have to accept it because i'm not changing it" she asserts, crossing her arms slightly. "this is very appreciated, but no offense it is complete overkill. i do not need all this money from one bill" you say tilting your head up a little. "why are you so against this?" she asks with genuine confusion. "because i can take care of myself. i don't need any pity tips i deal with people like that every single say" you say with your voice raising the slightest bit. "it is not out of pity. i genuinely just want to give you that because it seems to me that you work very hard and deserve to be paid accordingly" she says, getting closer again. "also you should let someone take care of you every once in a while" she whispers into your ear, slightly pushing the little slip against your chest. she then smiles and says "i'll see you around" turning to open the door. you stood there for a second processing what just happened...
Her towel hangs by the sink, a ghost that wonât leave.
Youâre sitting on the edge of Billieâs hotel bed, hair still damp, watching the city blur through the window.
Sheâs behind you, half-dressed, scrolling through her phone â pretending the silence between you isnât heavy enough to crush both of you.
âYou can tell me you donât love her,â you start. Your voice is soft, but the shake in it gives you away.
Billie looks up, startled.
You turn to face her, forcing a bitter smile. âBut you should probably tell her too.â
She sighs, runs a hand through her hair. âY/Nââ
âI canât keep sleeping undercover,â you interrupt. âItâs like sheâs always in the room. Sheâs on that towel, that note on your mirror⊠the one I shouldnât have read.â
Billie freezes.
You laugh without humor. âNo, itâs not fair. âCause if itâs you and I, thenââ your eyes lift to hersâ âwhy is she still here?â
She takes a step closer, words dying on her lips.
You back up. âSay you want me, Billie. Say it like you mean it. Say it likeââ your voice cracksâ âlike sheâs not still here.â
Her jaw tightens. She drops the phone, walks until sheâs right in front of you.
âI introduced you as my friend,â she says quietly.
âYeah,â you answer, crossing your arms. âAnd I didnât say shit. But donât you ever do that again.â
Her eyes flash up, guilt and fire tangled together.
âItâs funny,â you whisper, ââcause it didnât feel like friends on your kitchen floor.â
You take a step closer now, breath hot against her neck.
âAnd you donât take friends to the back of your tour bus.â
Billieâs breath catches.
Her lips part like sheâs about to speak, but you donât give her the chance.
âIâd always give when you wanted more,â you murmur, fingertips brushing her ribs, âbut God forbid I draw attention to the questions you never answerâŠâ
You pull back, just enough to meet her eyes. âExcept for whoâs fucking you better.â
That one hits her.
Her face hardens, then crumbles.
âYou got me lowering standards, Billie.â
You laugh, but your throat burns. âSheâs still there. So tell me nowâwhy am I still here?â
Billie swallows hard, eyes flickering between your mouth and your tears.
âSay you want me,â you breathe. âSay it. LikeââWhyâs she still here?ââ
Silence.
Then Billie moves.
She grips your jaw, kisses you so deep it knocks the air from your lungs.
The kind of kiss that feels like both an apology and a confession.
You gasp against her mouth. âI need you to myself tonight.â
She whispers, âYou have me.â But you both know thatâs not true.
Her hands slide up under your shirt, desperate, like sheâs trying to erase the other girl off your skin.
âWhat else more do you need,â you whisper, trembling, âwhen you got me right here?â
Billieâs forehead presses to yours. Her voice is barely a breath.
âI want you.â
âThen tell her,â you say. âTell her itâs done.â
She nods, but her eyes say maybe later.
And thatâs the moment your heart cracks.
Because âlaterâ is never really later with Billie â itâs always almost.
You pull away, lips swollen, mascara smudged across her cheek.
âYou can tell me you donât love her,â you whisper again, softer this time, like a promise youâre done believing.
âBut you should probably tell her too.â
You grab your jacket. Billie doesnât stop you.
The towel stays hanging by the mirror.
Her phone buzzes once â and you donât have to look to know who it is.
At the door, you glance back at her â standing there in silence, guilt painted across her collarbone.
âIf Iâm your girl,â you whisper,
âthen why is she still here?â
The door closes behind you.
Billie just stands there â phone still buzzing â with the ghost of you and her and her all bleeding together in the same room.