moonbils

[moonbils]

Gay bitch with big ass shoes screaming loud as hell

[moonbils]

I’m back I’m back

[moonbils]

billie eilish barbie icons

[moonbils]

Girls and that one Gracie Abrams song

[moonbils]

soft billie eilish one-shot. best friends, late nights, no forced romance. read it like a memory. ⋆˙⟡

tw: none

Later they would say it was love at first sight,but both knew it was a long road they had to take to get here.

It didn’t start with a spark.

There was no slow-motion glance across a crowded room. No dramatic pause in conversation. No knowing look, no skipped heartbeat.

It started at 4:12 PM, on a Wednesday.

Venice Beach was too loud. Too sunny. Too much. Billie was already sitting on the towel, sunglasses low, iced coffee sweating in her hand. She looked like she wanted to be anywhere else.

You walked up late, holding two iced teas and the kind of tired that sits behind your eyes. You said nothing, handed her one.

She took the wrong one. You didn’t correct her.

- - - - - - - -

“Where’s Finneas?” you asked.

“Over there.” She pointed toward the boardwalk. “On the phone. Pretending to be deep.”

You sat beside her. Close, but not enough to touch.

She looked out at the sea like she was trying to read something hidden in it.

“You ever get tired of being seen?” you asked.

The question fell out of your mouth before you could stop it.

Her face didn’t change. “All the time,” she said. “But not by you.”

- - - - - - - -

She started texting you after that.

Not every day. But enough.

Screenshots. Unfiltered selfies. Voice memos of half-written melodies. Photos of her dog doing nothing in particular.

She never explained why. She didn’t need to.

Sometimes she came over, curled up on your floor like it was easier to exist sideways. Sometimes you watched dumb cartoons. Sometimes she said nothing, and that was fine too.

Billie wasn’t performing when she was with you. And that felt like a secret you were trusted with.

- - - - - - - -

The first time she fell asleep in your bed, it wasn’t romantic.

She was wearing your hoodie, tangled in the blanket wrong, one sock on, one off. Her phone was face down. Her hand was half on your pillow.

You didn’t move her. You just turned off the light and sat on the floor beside her, finishing your tea.

It wasn’t love. Not yet.

But it wasn’t nothing, either.

- - - - - - - -

Months passed.

She blew up a little more. You stayed the same.

She’d disappear for two weeks, then show up at your door with Thai food and no explanation. You never asked. She never offered one.

“Missed you,” was all she’d say.

And that was enough.

- - - - - - - -

One night, you were brushing your teeth when she called.

“What’s your favorite soup?” she asked.

You spat into the sink. “What?”

“Like. If you were sick. Or sad. Or dying. What soup would you want?”

You told her. She hung up.

Three days later, it was waiting on your doorstep. Still warm.

You never brought it up again.

- - - - - - - -

She never said “I love you” the way people expect it.

Not on a rooftop. Not in the middle of a kiss. Not in a song.

She said it like this:

“I feel safe with you.”

And

“You always let me be quiet.”

And once, when she was half-asleep, skin soft with sleep and hair in her face

“You make the noise go away.”

You didn’t say anything back.

You didn’t have to.

- - - - - - - -

Later, they’d say it was love at first sight.

That when Billie Eilish met you, it must’ve been electric. Obvious.

But both of you knew the truth.

It wasn’t sudden. It wasn’t shiny. It didn’t crack the sky open.

It was slow. Earned. Built between text messages and shared fries, quiet glances and mismatched socks. Built in the spaces between fame and fear, in the silences that didn’t need filling.

It was love.

Eventually.

[moonbils]

writing about her in my journal because she's in fact the most beautiful girl i've ever seen

[moonbils]

your writing is so cute omg

16 💛

can you make billie really clingy in this one?? thank you!!!😊

“come back baby”

requests are closed

The morning light was soft, spilling lazily through the curtains and casting gentle shadows across the room. The soft sound of the fan whirred in the background, but aside from that, the world outside was still. Inside, however, the peaceful silence was anything but, broken only by the faint rustling of sheets as Billie shifted in bed, still half-dreaming, her body curled up in a little ball, wrapped in the warmth of the blankets. She didn’t quite open her eyes yet but could tell something was missing—the soft, familiar warmth that was always pressed up against her.

She blinked a few times, squinting into the sunlight that poured through the window, and that’s when she noticed—you weren’t there.

Her brows furrowed, and a little pout formed on her lips. The bed felt too big without you next to her. She stretched out, trying to find your warmth again, but the spot where you had been moments before was cold.

A soft groan slipped from her lips, and her hand reached out instinctively, fingers brushing the sheets as though you were still there.

“Baby?” she mumbled hoarsely, still tangled in the comforter.

But there was no response. She blinked, rubbing her eyes, and then she realized—you were just in the bathroom.

Billie let out a frustrated little whine, her voice soft and needy as she called out again, this time more pleading, half-sleepy.

“Come back, baby…”

It was muffled, almost like a dream, as if she didn’t even know if you could hear her. The words were thick with desire for your closeness, and a small, pouty frown tugged at her lips as she turned her head, burying her face into your pillow, inhaling the scent that lingered there—your perfume, the soft trace of your skin.

Meanwhile, you stood in the connected bathroom, brushing your teeth, eyes still a little blurry from sleep. You had rinsed your face and carefully tied your hair into a braid, the small routine helping wake you up a little more. You could hear Billie’s voice—her soft whine calling you back, the sound of longing in her tone.

You smiled to yourself, knowing that no matter how much you loved your own space in the mornings, there was no place better than in her arms.

You finished tying off your braid, turned off the bathroom light, and quietly stepped out, the floor cold under your bare feet as you made your way back toward the bed.

Billie’s eyes were still closed when you slipped under the covers beside her, but as soon as she felt the warmth of your body next to hers, her arms immediately sought you out, pulling you in close with a needy sigh of relief.

There was something about mornings like this that made her clingier than usual—something about you being right there, so close, so easy to reach. As you snuggled into her arms, she let out a little hum of satisfaction, her body instantly relaxing against yours.

“You’re so warm,” she whispered, her voice still drowsy, as she buried her face in your neck. Her lips kissed the soft spot just beneath your jaw, pressing there lazily. “I missed you,” she mumbled, almost like she was still half asleep, as though she couldn’t bear the thought of you being so far away for even a moment.

You giggled softly at her clinginess, your fingers smoothing through her messy hair, brushing it gently out of her face. “I’m right here, Billie,” you whispered back, voice soothing, the sound of her name feeling like a promise.

Billie nuzzled closer, wrapping her arms tighter around your waist, pulling you as close as she could get. She was still waking up, but there was something about being pressed against you—feeling your warmth, hearing your heartbeat—that was enough to make her smile softly, even through the fog of sleep.

“Mmm, good,” she sighed contentedly, her body soft against yours. “I need you here. I don’t like waking up without you.”

Your hand rested over her back, tracing little circles as she drifted in and out of slumber, a sleepy smile tugging at her lips. “I missed you too, bub,” you murmured, kissing the top of her head.

Her response was a lazy hum, her arms tightening around you once again, like she couldn’t bear the thought of letting go, even if just for a second. She snuggled in even closer, her head resting on your chest as her fingers traced idle patterns against your skin.

There was something so intimate about this moment, the quiet between you, just the two of you waking up to each other. It didn’t matter that the day had barely started, or that the world was waiting for you both—it was these little moments, these small gestures, that meant the most.

Billie sighed again, her body growing heavier in your arms as she finally gave in to the sleepy haze that was taking over her. “Can we just stay like this forever?” she murmured.

You pressed a soft kiss to her temple, your arms holding her a little tighter, not wanting to let go of this perfect moment either. “As long as you want,” you whispered.

And with that, she smiled, curling further into your embrace, and the two of you stayed there, wrapped in each other’s warmth, the morning light gently illuminating the room as you both drifted back to sleep, tangled together like you were meant to be.

[moonbils]

in my mind I thought she was still 22..

billie’s such a legend and she’s only 23

[moonbils]

soft billie eilish one-shot. best friends, late nights, no forced romance. read it like a memory. ⋆˙⟡

tw: none

Later they would say it was love at first sight,but both knew it was a long road they had to take to get here.

It didn’t start with a spark.

There was no slow-motion glance across a crowded room. No dramatic pause in conversation. No knowing look, no skipped heartbeat.

It started at 4:12 PM, on a Wednesday.

Venice Beach was too loud. Too sunny. Too much. Billie was already sitting on the towel, sunglasses low, iced coffee sweating in her hand. She looked like she wanted to be anywhere else.

You walked up late, holding two iced teas and the kind of tired that sits behind your eyes. You said nothing, handed her one.

She took the wrong one. You didn’t correct her.

- - - - - - - -

“Where’s Finneas?” you asked.

“Over there.” She pointed toward the boardwalk. “On the phone. Pretending to be deep.”

You sat beside her. Close, but not enough to touch.

She looked out at the sea like she was trying to read something hidden in it.

“You ever get tired of being seen?” you asked.

The question fell out of your mouth before you could stop it.

Her face didn’t change. “All the time,” she said. “But not by you.”

- - - - - - - -

She started texting you after that.

Not every day. But enough.

Screenshots. Unfiltered selfies. Voice memos of half-written melodies. Photos of her dog doing nothing in particular.

She never explained why. She didn’t need to.

Sometimes she came over, curled up on your floor like it was easier to exist sideways. Sometimes you watched dumb cartoons. Sometimes she said nothing, and that was fine too.

Billie wasn’t performing when she was with you. And that felt like a secret you were trusted with.

- - - - - - - -

The first time she fell asleep in your bed, it wasn’t romantic.

She was wearing your hoodie, tangled in the blanket wrong, one sock on, one off. Her phone was face down. Her hand was half on your pillow.

You didn’t move her. You just turned off the light and sat on the floor beside her, finishing your tea.

It wasn’t love. Not yet.

But it wasn’t nothing, either.

- - - - - - - -

Months passed.

She blew up a little more. You stayed the same.

She’d disappear for two weeks, then show up at your door with Thai food and no explanation. You never asked. She never offered one.

“Missed you,” was all she’d say.

And that was enough.

- - - - - - - -

One night, you were brushing your teeth when she called.

“What’s your favorite soup?” she asked.

You spat into the sink. “What?”

“Like. If you were sick. Or sad. Or dying. What soup would you want?”

You told her. She hung up.

Three days later, it was waiting on your doorstep. Still warm.

You never brought it up again.

- - - - - - - -

She never said “I love you” the way people expect it.

Not on a rooftop. Not in the middle of a kiss. Not in a song.

She said it like this:

“I feel safe with you.”

And

“You always let me be quiet.”

And once, when she was half-asleep, skin soft with sleep and hair in her face

“You make the noise go away.”

You didn’t say anything back.

You didn’t have to.

- - - - - - - -

Later, they’d say it was love at first sight.

That when Billie Eilish met you, it must’ve been electric. Obvious.

But both of you knew the truth.

It wasn’t sudden. It wasn’t shiny. It didn’t crack the sky open.

It was slow. Earned. Built between text messages and shared fries, quiet glances and mismatched socks. Built in the spaces between fame and fear, in the silences that didn’t need filling.

It was love.

Eventually.

[moonbils]

MAE ★ she!her, 7teen, billie focused blog.

[moonbils]

me 2 babes, me 2

im so touch starved

[moonbils]

when my friends specifically tell me they WANT to hang out with me i'm giggling and kicking my feet bc like wdym you want to spend time with me

[moonbils]

HARLEYS IN HAWAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

[moonbils]

for a song specific request could u do meddle about by chase atlantic?

Hope i captured the vibe well 🫶

[moonbils]

[moonbils]

so close to a hundred! 😵‍💫🥴

contains: best-friend dynamic, late night setting

warnings: none for this :)

The first time she showed up past midnight, it was raining. Not in a dramatic, movie kind of way—just soft, steady rain tapping against the windows like background noise.

I was in bed with the lights off, scrolling through random videos I’d forget about in the morning, when my phone lit up.

BILLIE

you up?

It wasn’t weird. Billie had always been like that—popping in and out of my nights like a second moon. And she knew I didn’t sleep early anyway.

ME

door’s unlocked

A few minutes later, I heard it—the quiet shuffle of her boots against the floor, the click of the door, and the soft thud of her backpack hitting the ground.

“Hey,” she said, voice low but steady.

“Hey,” I said back, sitting up. “You good?”

“Yeah.” She kicked off her boots and padded over to my bed, hoodie soaked around the edges. “Just didn’t wanna be home.”

She didn’t have to explain. I made space without thinking, and she climbed in like it was muscle memory.

⸻

We’d been friends for years. Since before the stadiums and the strangers shouting her name. Before the world knew her voice. Before she knew what fame would take from her.

Back then, we shared chips and bad jokes and fought over what to watch on movie nights. These days, we still did—just with a little more silence between us sometimes.

I handed her a towel. She pulled the hoodie over her head and ran it through her wet hair, messy strands falling in front of her eyes.

“You look like a wet cat,” I said.

Billie smirked. “Thanks, I try.”

We sat there for a minute, the room dim and warm, the sound of rain filling the gaps.

“You wanna watch something?” I asked.

“Only if I get to pick.”

“You always pick,” I said, already handing her the remote.

She chose something dumb on purpose—some old cartoon we used to watch when we were too young to understand the jokes. It played softly while she leaned into me, head resting on my shoulder like it belonged there.

“This is nice,” she said, barely above a whisper.

I looked down at her. “Yeah. It is.”

⸻

An hour passed. Maybe two. I lost track somewhere between her laughing at the dumbest parts and us quoting lines like we were back in middle school.

She pulled the blanket over both of us and curled up, her feet cold against my leg.

“You always hog the blanket,” I muttered.

“You love it,” she said, eyes closed.

Maybe I did.

We didn’t talk about serious things that night. We didn’t need to. Sometimes, her showing up was enough. No reason. No drama. Just that unspoken, best-friend understanding that being near each other made everything suck a little less.

At some point, she fell asleep.

I stayed awake for a bit longer, watching the rain trace lines down the window. Her hand was half-limp against mine under the blanket, her breathing slow and even.

And I thought

If this was all we ever were, I’d be okay with that.

Just her. Just me. Just this.

[moonbils]

contains: best-friend dynamic, late night setting

warnings: none for this :)

The first time she showed up past midnight, it was raining. Not in a dramatic, movie kind of way—just soft, steady rain tapping against the windows like background noise.

I was in bed with the lights off, scrolling through random videos I’d forget about in the morning, when my phone lit up.

BILLIE

you up?

It wasn’t weird. Billie had always been like that—popping in and out of my nights like a second moon. And she knew I didn’t sleep early anyway.

ME

door’s unlocked

A few minutes later, I heard it—the quiet shuffle of her boots against the floor, the click of the door, and the soft thud of her backpack hitting the ground.

“Hey,” she said, voice low but steady.

“Hey,” I said back, sitting up. “You good?”

“Yeah.” She kicked off her boots and padded over to my bed, hoodie soaked around the edges. “Just didn’t wanna be home.”

She didn’t have to explain. I made space without thinking, and she climbed in like it was muscle memory.

⸻

We’d been friends for years. Since before the stadiums and the strangers shouting her name. Before the world knew her voice. Before she knew what fame would take from her.

Back then, we shared chips and bad jokes and fought over what to watch on movie nights. These days, we still did—just with a little more silence between us sometimes.

I handed her a towel. She pulled the hoodie over her head and ran it through her wet hair, messy strands falling in front of her eyes.

“You look like a wet cat,” I said.

Billie smirked. “Thanks, I try.”

We sat there for a minute, the room dim and warm, the sound of rain filling the gaps.

“You wanna watch something?” I asked.

“Only if I get to pick.”

“You always pick,” I said, already handing her the remote.

She chose something dumb on purpose—some old cartoon we used to watch when we were too young to understand the jokes. It played softly while she leaned into me, head resting on my shoulder like it belonged there.

“This is nice,” she said, barely above a whisper.

I looked down at her. “Yeah. It is.”

⸻

An hour passed. Maybe two. I lost track somewhere between her laughing at the dumbest parts and us quoting lines like we were back in middle school.

She pulled the blanket over both of us and curled up, her feet cold against my leg.

“You always hog the blanket,” I muttered.

“You love it,” she said, eyes closed.

Maybe I did.

We didn’t talk about serious things that night. We didn’t need to. Sometimes, her showing up was enough. No reason. No drama. Just that unspoken, best-friend understanding that being near each other made everything suck a little less.

At some point, she fell asleep.

I stayed awake for a bit longer, watching the rain trace lines down the window. Her hand was half-limp against mine under the blanket, her breathing slow and even.

And I thought

If this was all we ever were, I’d be okay with that.

Just her. Just me. Just this.