Billie Eilish X Fem!reader: But I Already Have Love In LA

Billie Eilish x Fem!reader: But I already have love in LA

A/n: 5,692 miles is the distance between calm nighttime Paris and sweltering Los Angeles, which almost makes Eilish howl like a wolf. A Paris promo in honor of the album mercilessly separates the two of you on an important date, but you find a way out.

Billie Eilish x Fem!reader: Little dreams

A/n: Billie hadn't had time to carve pumpkin jack-o-lanterns last Halloween, making this unclosed gestalt her little dream. So you buy her a pumpkin out of the blue. You don't know how to play any musical instrument, but a ukulele is your humble dream. So Billie teaches you.

Just one comfortable July evening spent together.

Billie Eilish x Fem!reader: I'm your Ilo, will you Milo?

A/n: Preferring the original source in the person of Billie herself, you ask her a question one day about one of her old songs.

"Wait, what did you just say...?"

Eilish's face is a continuous bewilderment, woven from many details. By asking just one question, you were able to hit the best possible jackpot in LA: soft lips parted in surprise (you even manage to catch a silver glint of grillz), eyebrows that shot almost to the ceiling of your parents' house and dumbfounded eyes that resemble white jade in the light of the sun with their translucency. You, on the other hand, are a total embarrassment - a smile that rides on a slope, a nervous chuckle you let out more by reflex than consciously and, the cherry on the cake - a hand rubbing your neck in slight embarrassment.

"Can you explain to me what ilomilo is, please?", - you duplicate again, and Billie almost has an Internet connection loss icon on her forehead from the ridiculousness of the question, so you tactfully clarify, - "I just decided to ask you right away, as the author of your own song, and not to prowl in on the Internet."

A couple of seconds of immutability, and then Eilish bursts into laughter, reminding you of a geyser with its suddenness and loudness. Whether you feel even more interested after this "maneuver" or a little more embarrassed is still unclear. Billie stops talking, returning to her former state of harmony, and gestures for you to sit down next to her. She crosses her legs and rests the elbow of her left arm on the soft back of the sofa, propping her head on the same arm. Being as close to you as possible, Eilish now looks like she wants to tell you her most important secret.

"It's more correct to call them separatly" - Billie chuckles, her right hand stroking your knee lightly, - "The song itself is about a man losing someone he loves and trying to find them again. We wrote it with Finn, based on the game of the same name."

Even though Billie was wiggling her foot unobtrusively and lazily to the beat of the music coming from the kitchen, the dreamy smile on her face suggested that she was slowly drifting into a special nostalgia. Blue eyes looks at you affectionately and trustingly - she certainly likes your interest. You smile, conspiratorially moving even a little closer. Billie's hand on your knee begins to lovingly "draw" spirals. A lover of tactile contact, what can you do.

"I used to play ilomilo a lot. I loved ilomilo, it was my favorite game in the world. It's the kind of game where there are these two little creatures - one called Ilo and the other called Milo. It's kind of an anti-gravity world where there are all these little blocks, and they start off separate from each other. The idea is that you just make your way towards each other, and when they get close to each other, they just hug and there's no prize. The whole idea of the game is to just lose a loved one and then find them again."

Billie stops using your knee as a canvas, a small silver sparkle in her eyes. Gently cupping her palms around your face, she whispers childishly and mysteriously into your ear with a sly grin:

"You didn't play ilomilo, did you?"

Just one negative nod and you're already securely grabbed by the arm for a speedy trip up the stairs to the second floor, straight to her former room.

×××

Thinking in six planes at once is difficult. Two-colored sweet couple sticks to steep surfaces, crawls on the ceiling and walls, and the whole stage at such moments is turned upside down and back. The first few levels are all kind of simple and without nerves, there are almost no problems with finding the right path, but further on the real brainteaser begins.

While your blue Ilo hangs upside down on the plush cube waiting for you, you furtively glance at Eilish: extremely focused face and neat glasses slowly sliding down to the tip of her nose (the effect of a long night sitting in front of the screen). Milo quickly shuffles his short, plush legs, changed planes, and along with him puffs O'Connell herself, but not tiredly, but irritated. At stake for the singer is not the conquest of the world, but something more serious - to show how good she is at the game of her childhood.

"That's fucking impossible!" - The Xbox joystick slumps to the soft carpet, and Billie throws her head up and growls in anger at the "failure" that had befallen her.

"Do you give up, Eilish?" - Not teasing her verbally now equals the truest crime, and you're a law-abiding girl, aren't you?

The two whipping blue lightning bolts that flickered from her eyes toward you and a raised middle finger are more eloquent than any possible words. Trying to hold back, you only chuckle even louder, and Billie gets angrier and angrier.

"Fuck you, bitch!"

She deftly snatches the second joystick out of your hands, shoving you in the side, which is already sore from laughing. A couple of movements of the stick and your little blue Ilo dies, returning to the same checkpoint from tothe finish line, at which you spent a good half an hour. Eilish pouts and retreats to the old bed with a red curtain from Louis Vuitton (of course, she demonstratively loudly drapes it), and you only gasp from a new attack of laughter, your back falling on the carpet from helplessness.

When you can finally take a full and free breath of air, your gaze lazily moves from the white ceiling of the room to the window - the sun is slowly beginning to roll over the horizon, taking its warm and blinding orange rays with it. The dark blue curtain, stretched halfway out, sways in the flow of the wind, as if anticipating its imminent uselessness with the appearance of darkness. Dark blue... A sudden idea shoots into your head.

"Billie?" - you quickly roll over from back to stomach, gazing expectantly into her hiding place. Except to no avail. The queen of the scarlet "fort" maintains her surprisingly deafening silence. Well, it looks like you'll have to go it alone.

The plastic hinges on the curtain rod barely audibly knock against each other while you remove the thick fabric from them, you stubbornly standing on toes. A chair standing in the opposite corner of the room is unnecessary attention and noise, you don't need it now. A minute, and the cherished fabric is already in your hands, a few more seconds and it is already on your shoulders. It seems that now you are ready to try to talk to your Queen again.

"Billie-e-e!" - You stretch your vowels deliberately, a playful smile on your lips. Getting into the 'fort' doesn't quite work yet - Eilish is on the other side with her hands holding onto the edges of the red canopy, blocking the passage you're creating. - "Please, my love."

The last word seemed to be some sort of magic spell that made the canopy immediately freeze, losing all tension. You easily scramble onto the bed, dragging the blue curtain dragging across the floor with you. Success! Her lips immediately twitch into a smile when she sees your homely, disheveled appearance and your blue "outfit". The only thing that helps her hold it together is the experience of many red carpets. Her smile immediately fades to indifference and her blue eyes catch up with the blizzard.

"Why do you need a curtain?" - coldly and indifferently. It's as fake and unnatural as possible, which both of you admit. If she wasn't interested, Eilish wouldn't have asked at all.

"So that you and I can win," - scratch your nose on purpose, grabbing a corner of the fabric for comicality. The lips opposite are trembling again in a restrained smile.

"And how will Mom's dusty curtain help us with this?"

"You... Will you be my Milo?

And no matter how much Billie bites her lip, she eventually bursts into laughter, looking at you with a gaze so trusting and loving that your heart flutters in your chest. The blue eyes are the calmest lake in the world, devoid of any resentment. You help her remove half of the canopy from its fasteners and she hurriedly wraps herself in it, "dressed" in red.

"Are you ready to complete this last level?"

"Where did you go? I should know, but it's cold..." - instead of answering, you hum, looking expectantly at your Milo. Billie is a raking scarlet embrace that immediately envelops you.

"And I don't wanna be lonely, was hoping you'd come home." - her soft soprano response. All you have to do is smile and bury your nose in her collarbone, breathing in her favorite scent. No words are needed now.

Ilo and Milo embrace. The level is passed.

Billie Eilish x Fem!reader: Red light

A/n: she just sees you with your abusive ex-partner.

Eilish has millions of red exclamation points flashing in her head blinking barely every second, and blue eyes fixed on you like the frighteningly mighty and cold glaciers of the Arctic. The only thing that seems to calm her down even a little is Finneas' presence nearby and the feeling of weight on her own knees. It wasn't just the charming bouquet wrapped in scarlet kraft paper: Shark, sensing his mistress's excitement, rested his massive bulldog face on her legs for support.

"What fucking right does he have to approach her?" - the look of concern centered in her concern is replaced with a sizzling one, the moment she shifts her focus of attention to the male silhouette standing across from you. - "After everything he fucking did!"

Finneas exhales tensely, clasping his palms tighter on the steering wheel of his red Tesla: the eco-leather creaks slightly from the tension. Eilish, frankly, envies him, because the desire is now behind the wheel, and not in the passenger seat, is off the scale, reaching maximum values. Several scenarios of how she presses the gas pedal to the floor, heading for your ex, flash through her head. And no, she's not ashamed, none of you three are ashamed of it.

Billie is a small nuclear suitcase with enormous destructive power, and you're the only one who can handle her. As the O'Connells pull into a quiet residential neighborhood to pick you up and go to Claudia's house together, the figure of your ex looms around the corner, heading toward you. Billie was ready to jump out of the car almost as she goes, and she doesn't give a damn about the pavement or the passenger seat she's strapped into. She'll rip that seat right out of the car and put it on her back, just so she can run up to you as fast as she can and become your shield. He's a whole head taller than you and two heads taller than her? She don't care! Your gesture is the only thing that stops her: your open palm, held out in front of her for a quarter of a second, and your gaze, which resembles in its seriousness the sharp metal plate against which Eilish scratches his wrists in his sacrificial desire to protect you.

"I want to run him over, Finn."

"I know." - Her brother touches her shoulder, squeezing her slightly while Shark whines. Wise blue waters, concentrated in his eyes, are also watching you closely. - "Just let her figure it out for herself, and if something goes wrong, we'll step in right away."

"His fucking presence here is already something that's going wrong." - A deep exhale squeezes her chest, and a dark bandana squeezes head. She sees you ball your palms into fists, and he smirks cheekily. Fuck!

Your lips move, dropping the scalding words she's trying so hard to read onto the pavement, and your opponent winds up waving his arms in anger and poking you in the shoulder with his finger. Forcefully and sharply. Eilish genuinely enjoys, imagining his phalanges crunching under her hands from the exertion.

"I'm going to fuck him up!" - her blue eyes burst with stinging lightning, and her hand instantly touches the metal handle on the door. Shark, feeling the muscles in his mistress' legs contract, immediately retracts his muzzle, brave at her. His deep eyes look childishly trusting, waiting for any instructions.

Finneas unbuckled his seat belt, fumbling for the button with his long, musical fingers (the beige strip immediately slides into place by the mechanism), and then grabs his little sister around the waist with both hands, pinning her to the chair. The door of the red Tesla slams close.

"Fuck, Finn, that's just impossible!", - Eilish was boiling like a teapot.

"Don't, Billie! Chill out!"

"Why do I have to sit here when some asshole is harassing my girlfriend?" - she throws his hands off her but stays where she is. Elemental brotherly-sisterly respect. Finn pokes at the display in front of him and all four doors click shut, locking. Billie takes offense and that's still putting it mildly, but both are well aware of how impulsive Eilish is when differentiated into the merciless, unforgiving garb of anger.

Your posture is calm, but also tense: she can see how strain your back is and how the tendons play under the skin of your neck. The man is almost spitting in your face, loudly spewing all the bile he has accumulated. Billie can hear the word "whore!" blowing through the windshield with the warm breeze. She turned her head expectantly, and saw Finneas instantly mirror her own gaze: blue eyes filled with a gray sheen, reminiscent of geysers. Him excellent upbringing is making itself felt, and Billie clings to it with both hands, bowling her brother's cold mind.

"Would you put up with such a thing if it involved Claudia...?"

Finneas is silent, and his nostrils flare: sometimes too good a creative imagination becomes a punishment.

"No." - Coldly, and with a note of impending anger.

"So let me out, be a good brother." - The voice drops to a trance-inducing muffled wheezing.

He exhales, filling the silence hanging over them in the moment. A chest heaves the floor of his white t-shirt, and his hands while face covers exhaustedly, when he weighing his options. Eilish knows he'll never let her down, so she watches calmly, even though everything in her stomach turns over with burning tension. The soles of her high jordans tap out a rhythm, trying to tame the impatience.

"Just don't make a mess of things, please, Bils." - His earnest, confiding plea.

The doors click muffled again. It's open. Kindred blueness meets for a second: her mute and sincere 'thank you', confirming his expectations, is legitimized by his nod. The red hair ravels beautifully in the sun.

And as soon as Billie has one foot on the sun-hot asphalt, you turn your head in her direction: the steel of your gaze meets her anxious seas. She freezes, clinging to the open door as Shark comes down with an amused tinkle of his claws. "Paparazzi," she reads from the curve of your lips before your nose meets head-on with the man's fist.

Eilish's mind was blown, and she seemed to forget for a moment how to breathe, even though she'd been doing it for twenty-two years without a break. Her eyes gleam a deadly murky sapphire, and her eyebrows converge on the bridge of her nose in a torn, streaky stroke of ink on paper, heralding infernal retribution. Now your words of warning carry no weight with her. Finneas is like a tall, graceful pillar, leaping out of the parlor in one merged motion. Running toward you with clenched fists, driven by a sense of righteous anger.

"Protect!" - Eilish's loud voice shakes the heat of the street and the pit bull snaps out of his seat, growling menacingly. - "Protect!"

She runs towards you and the pendants make a silvery clinking noise around her neck. She outruns everyone: her brother, her thoughts of consequences and reputation. It's now completely colorless and unimportant, the only thing ahead of her is the faithful gray dog that lives up to its name. The gray powerful back flickers, cutting through the air like a shark through the water. You only clumsily dodge another powerful blow, falling to the asphalt by inertia: the palm of your hand burns with the lingering pain of contact with the ground, revealing a thin bloody web, and your nose buzzes disgustingly. The dripping blood settles on your lips with a metallic taste as you squint, either from the pain or from the blinding sun, shielding yourself with healthy hand from another incoming blow.

You're the lord of the whole little army. Billie immediately snuggles you in his arms, diving almost bare-kneed onto the pavement with the ease of a phoenix; Finneas stands immovably across from you, covering you both with his broad back, looking like a vengeful archangel in his white T-shirt; Shark, like the devil from the snuffbox, who has caught hold of your ex-boyfriend's long pant and pulls the hard material toward him with a growl. The man shrieks, and all this three pairs of blue eyes give him a punishing coldness that gives him no hint of mercy.

"With me." - her strong voice excites you, giving you an adrenaline rush. The gray pit bull abruptly lets go of the cloth (causing the guy to almost lose his balance) and obediently sits down next to her, snorting.

"You Hollywood rich guys sticking up for that slu..."

"You shut your damn mouth now!" - Finneas stiffly cuts him off halfheartedly.

Billie rises slowly and strides toward them with such haughty superiority and a smirk that somewhere a whole cast of movie villains are weeping at their insignificance. Small, but so majestic. She abruptly grabs the guy by the collar of his solid-colored shirt, bending him almost in half: now she looks him straight in the eyes without raising her head a millimeter. The cold splinters in her eyes make a warning noise like a rattle on a rattlesnake's tail, making her "victim" almost whimper like a Yorkshire terrier.

"You come near her again, I'll wipe you out. Knuckle by knuckle, you understand?"

"You have no proof, I can turn it against you!" - his voice reminds you of the pathetic bleating of a lousy sheep.

And you laugh, literally sink into laughing, smearing the blood on your face with your fist. Everyone turns to look at you, but all you do is throw your head up in a fit of laughter. A smirk smeared with blood is your best accessory.

"You've remained a complete idiot! Did it never occur to you that you started to sort things out right in front of a lot of video cameras?"

You nod your head at the wooden courtyards one by one, and the man's confidence shatters. Finneas smiles contentedly, Billie immediately realizes the source of your confidence, immediately comparing the details of your scheme. And how sweet revenge becomes! Eilish pulls him back on top of him, regaining eye contact. The blue maelstrom halves him, spitting him out instantly. Her uber-confident smirk is the final chord on his microscopic dignity

"So I repeat - get out of here, you pathetic puppy!"

Shark barked contentedly.

×××

The four of you arrive at Claudia's house right after your visit to the hospital. Once they're all in the living room together, Billie doesn't let go of you for a second, hugging you defensively from behind and just sucking in your scent with her nose, nuzzling into your shoulder, neck, hair, whatever.

"I was so worried about you, underdog..." - the whisper burns the curl of your ear as you try to gently touch your slightly swollen nose with your fingers, oohing. A bruise, and that's glorious. Much better than a possible fracture. - "I'm not going anywhere from you now, ever."

"Billie," - you turn to face her, kissing the chiseled line of her jaw. The tip of your nose touches her neck, and you squeeze your eyes shut, multicolored sparks of pain scattering before your eyes. She immediately pulls away from you slightly, gently touching her palms to your face. - "You, Finn, and Shark are my best protectors."

"Careful, my girl."

You feel warmth and a slight tickle as she strokes your cheekbones with her thumbs. The previously restless blue eyes are now like a calm marina.

You giggle, and you're not entirely sure why, whether it's because of a silly thought or because Shark, who's lying next to you on the couch, grunted loudly in his sleep.

"Did I look like you in the 'bad guy' music video? You know, with all that blood on my face..."

Eilish chuckles, brings your healthy hand to her lips and bestows a flock of little kisses on each knuckle. You want to purr.

"Very similar."

And you smack her on the lips, rewarding her for every second she spent tense, watching you. You don't care if your nose hurts. It'll heal.

Gurll, I love your writing, it is simply incredible, with each update I know you will not disappoint!!

Awwww, this is so precious to me, seriously 🥹

My texts are my imaginary "babies" and I'm so glad they are growing and pleasing you :>

Thanks again for reading and have a great day! 🍃

this isn’t a request or anything, i just wanted to say that your style of writing is genuinely so beautiful! the way you vividly describe scenes or what is happening in those scenes (not sure how to word this but i hope you get what i mean 😭) is SO good. like your diction is pretty insane!!!! and your writing is also very poetic too, like woah???

sorry that this is so long, i just wanted to show some love 🥰 <3

Hey, don't apologize for the length of your post, buddy, I'm extremely pleased with every word you write! :>

So gently touched by your message, thank you so much, now I really can't wipe the embarrassed smile off my face, heh. And it's nice that you really like the diction, because sometimes I wonder if I really go overboard with the complexity of wording, I try to control that.

Thanks again and have a great day! 🫂✨

Billie Eilish x Fem!reader: O Captain! My Captain!

A/n: A slightly alcoholic cultural revelry in the warmth atmosphere of the O'Connell's family ends in a totally uncultured way. Billie relaxes and gets drunk, pestering you almost at the table. Finn looks too excited when he hears the notification sound on his phone and looks at Claudia. Later you find out that these talented duo have made a crazy bet.

"As far as I know," Patrick sips the drink with a funny sound and the amber column in his glass drops slightly after a sip, and the cinnamon wand sticks into his gray mustache like a straw, - "this drink came to be called 'rum on three waters,' or 'grog,' after Captain Old Grog, a nickname given to Vernon for his habit of strolling about the deck in bad weather in an old waterproof cape. "

"I didn't know you were so into alcohol, Mr. O'Connell." - you grin good-naturedly and twirl the cinnamon stick like a spoon, creating a small alcoholic tornado in the cup: the swirls of fruity berry tea mixed with golden rum are mesmerizing, making you stare for a few seconds before returning your gaze. A warm smile plays across Patrick's face as he looks at you, blue eyes sparkling with gratitude for your interest.

"Please, just Patrick." - the man gently corrects you and you nod in agreement. Eh, it's all the fault of your boundless reverence.

"And not so much the alcohol as its history, my dear," Maggie returned from the kitchen with a careful, soft step and stood next to Patrick, who immediately put his arm around her waist. It certainly adds to the comfort. As does the presence of a beautiful woman like Maggie in general. - "There's that traditional Irish trait about him. Will you help me, darling?"

Patrick nods in agreement, assuring you of his imminent continuation of the story, and the parents retire back to the kitchen to tackle the long-awaited tofu turkey, another of Maggie's proud culinary masterpieces. It looks like it's about five minutes away from being fully cooked, at most.

You hear a new chirp notification opposite and without hesitation turn your gaze to Finn, continuing to observe: the red-haired man grabs the phone from the table abruptly, and after recognizing the contents of the screen becomes even more flighty, staring at Claudia with a mute question. You literally see humped question marks appear above his head, almost getting tangled in slightly overgrown copper hair, to which the girl responds with an innocent smile.

"Guys, is something wrong?" - you put your cup to the lips to take a generous sip, but you nearly choke on it, coughing as you feel a sudden tight grip on your right thigh.

A sharp turn of the head and you meet head-on with the source of your mild asphyxia: cloudy drunken lights flash in Billie's blue eyes, accentuated by her cheeky grin.

"Careful, my girl." - Billie gives you a gentle pat on the back, and then shifts her gaze to Finn as if nothing had happened while her hand slowly slides down already on the inside of your thigh, keeping some decent-to-non-decent distance. - "Yes, brother, you look very... excited."

Finneas buries his face in a glass, almost with his nose, and all the secrets of the universe are concentrated in the amber surface of the grog. He doesn't even look at Claudia now, but for some reason it seems to you that the blush on the guy's cheeks and ears has become clearer. Perhaps alcohol is to blame for everything. A new notification bell and an attack of your asphyxia is already transferred to him, and the role of the rescuer is Claudia.

"I'm fine," he awkwardly picks up a few drops of diluted rum with his palm from his short red beard. Several images of the pirate aesthetic immediately run before your eyes. - "Just... can't let go of thoughts of the turmoil of the day."

"Relax, it's just a regular night out with your loved ones, right?" - Billie's heated voice is pleasantly husky, and you twitch slightly, catching the sudden goosebumps of arousal. And it's not just her voice that's to blame, it's also her cheeky palm, which has slid deftly from your thigh to the zipper of your jean shorts, playfully yanking the lock tongue down just a couple of links. Fuck! What's going on today...?

By God's miracle, you restrain your emotions of shock and embarrassment, which strive to play out with the whole palette on your face, and quickly intercept her hand, closing your fingers with a bracelet around her wrist. In your mind, you offered up over a dozen prayers to God so that no one would see this movement.

"Billie's right, love, you really should relax," Claudia gently pats her lover on the shoulder with the same perfectly simple-minded smile. But when she and Eilish glance over, you could swear you see some fleetingly conspiratorial, sly spark in her green whirlpools. Eilish herself echoes it. Both of their smiles turn predatory as Fin's phone beeps unobtrusively again, and the guy covers his face with his palms in anguish. You've obviously missed something.

"I'll tell you a little later," noticing your misunderstanding, Eilish smoothly moves closer to you, scorching your ear with an ingratiating whisper. - "In the meantime, I have something for you as well."

She slips out of your grasp in one imperceptible movement and intercepts your hand to place it on the fly of her incredibly voluminous shorts. You feel the hard bulge through the soft fabric and it seems to you in a moment that the chair beneath you will shockingly split on the floor, spreading all four legs in different directions, in pairs parallel to each other. Because you have mentally fainted about three times already.

"Pirate, what the hell is that?!" - you seem to whisper a little too loudly, but Billie even likes it. She only winks playfully and bites her lower lip a little too hotly, hiding it behind her cup when you hear the sound of footsteps from the kitchen.

You try to pull your hand away, but Billie only moves a little closer to you, squeaking the leg of her chair lightly, and springs your hand back. And you don't know what's stronger: your embarrassment at the possibility of total embarrassment in front of her parents, your growing arousal, or your trust in the reckless younger O'Connell. Fuck.

"Here we are!" - Patrick solemnly brings in a tray of flaming vegan turkey to set it on the table.

"I hope you enjoy it," Maggie steps a little behind him, smiling with a note of maternal awe.

"What's so stupid, Mom?" - Eilish drains the rest of her cup and then plops her chin on the palm of her arm bent at the elbow. - "You know you and bad cooking are categorically incompatible."

She sends a warm smile to her mother, then transfers the murky pre-storm seas to you afterward. "Trust me." And you, frothing with excitement, trust. Eilish is your favorite and authoritative captain, guiding your ship through this palpable absurdity of a situation.

Fin's phone pings again.

×××

"That was too good, can I get the recipe?" - Claudia gently pushes her plate away, passing a paper napkin over her lips. You nod in agreement at her remark as well.

"Of course, girls!" - Maggie shone, the word of the August sun: blindingly bright, yet so warming. - "I'll be sure to describe everything to you in the morning, but now it's time for us all to rest."

And you exhale in awe, even though Eilish's hand under the table outlines your knee a little too flirtatiously. What's a kneecap! In these past thirty minutes, Eilish has replaced the biblical Tempter Serpent himself, getting you as hot as she can and can't. She's done everything from playful touching of your leg to overly explicit, lingering strokes of your thigh. She even managed to walk on the very blade: still unzip your fly and slip her fingers inside for a few moments, touching the very epicenter of your heat and tension through the thin fabric of your underwear. You nearly fly up in your chair, held up only by multi-ton shackles of awkwardness and adrenaline. God... Eilish is gorging himself on his third and final cup of grog, chugging from a teaspoon with the most satisfied smile on his lips, and you don't find the moment better. You press sharply on her bulge at the fly of her shorts and she nearly chokes, biting down on the spoon. The blue drunken seas churn with stormy foam, but how sweet is revenge!

And now you're blissfully thinking that the most dangerous stage of dinner seems to be behind you.

New notice. Oh, good lord....

"Son, is everything okay?"

Finneas is the perfect embodiment of a red traffic light, now tousling his hair with his pale hand. All nervous and hunched over.

"Yeah, Dad, I just think I overdid it today."

Billie bounces her fist with laughter and you catch her again, paying for all your patience with her own gold coin: another press and she bites her fist just barely visible to let out an embarrassed groan. You seem to have grown bolder after your second drink.

Patrick steers the conversation slightly into traditional fatherly admonishment, only to then return to the rails of everyday topics. You graciously agree to help Maggie with the dishes, acting as a precautionary measure (if Billie gets up from the table, there's a fifty percent chance that one unfortunate move will be a staggering disaster), but before you do, a small, crumpled piece of paper falls with filigree precision onto your lap. Billie, even under the influence of alcohol, is perfectly aware of her movements.

"I want you. Now." - The slightly smudged letters are eloquent, and her deep-blue gaze is a seal of assurance. You swallow nervously, silently letting out an exhale. Eilish is sure to drive you crazy someday. Would you mind?

"I'll help your mom out real quick, okay?"

And she nods silently, swallowing you whole, completely, in her deep blue waters. Eilish touches your cheek briefly with her hot lips, and Finneas stares at you like he's never stared before. As if you'd committed this smashing obscenity after all and you'd been noticed. Billie nods at him briefly, and a smile of incommensurate pride blossoms on his face, as if he'd won a dozen Grammys and as many Golden Globes. You are mentally ready to add everything, even the Illuminati, to this silent conspiracy, which has bypassed you in its details.

Relief only comes when these two golden talents of the music industry go upstairs with the speed of comets scattering across the sky, albeit not quite sober. You and Claudia stay behind to help, but there's a rush in her movements, too, so similar to yours.

"What's the matter, anyway?" - You ask quietly, grabbing the empty salad bowl from the table.

"Billie took my word that I wouldn't say anything," Sulewski gives a cat-like sly snort, summarizing. - "But... you and I are obviously going to have to be quieter tonight."

And you are sincerely lost, not knowing what to do: to raise an eyebrow in skepticism and break the roof of the cozy house O'Connells or to fall into a new, only now no longer imaginary fainting, embracing the salad bowl.

You finish the rest of the cleaning in silence, floating in your own rapidly changing thoughts, like a lone sailor on a huge Dutch galleon. You emerge from your thoughts only when you hear the creaking of the wooden stairs beneath your feet. Claudia ironically wishes you a "good night" before hiding behind the door of Finneas's old room and you die, burning the carpet beneath you with a mixture of feelings. It's too crazy an evening.

×××

"Now, Pirate, tell me what the fuck this-", you're unceremoniously silenced with a deep kiss, with force and accompanying rumble spurring to the door. A hiss from the painful meeting of your shoulder blades with the white-painted wood and a groan from the frenzy and duration of your arousal mingle together, sticking across your throat. You bite down on her bottom lip with force. Just the way she likes it.

"I'm sorry," her voice is husky and the blue sapphires glistening in the dark, mysteriously clouded with desire and rum, hypnotizing, turning you into a porcelain statue in her arms. You freeze, and she touches your shoulder blades with her hands through the thin fabric of your black shirt, stroking gently. - "Does it hurt much?"

"It never hurts with you," you whisper, your fingers wanting to sink into her tarry hair. The striped bandana immediately slips to the floor beneath your palms, reaching the floor completely silently. - "I want you, and I also want answers to tonight's performance."

"I can give you everything at once," the cold tip of her nose touches your neck, creating an unreal contrast to the hot, plump lips that slide ever so gently down to your collarbones and then back up to your earlobe. You feel the bite, and she presses closer to you, pressing her impromptu, artificial boner against your very needed spot, and you wrenching a strong exhale. - Finn and I have a bet for tonight."

"More details, Pirate," you cling to her shoulders, ready to climb the wall with excitement. Eilish moves mockingly, creating a friction that fogs your mind and dulls your desire for long-awaited answers. Another thrust of her hips and you gag, biting on your fist as she fast pulls your hand away. - "I fucking... need details..."

"We bet which of the two of us could handle arousal in public better, who could hold out longer," she grins as she sees you touch the waistband of her shorts with trembling hands, undoing the knot. The interfering piece of clothing falls off as you both look at it thoughtfully, as if you were watching the jets of a waterfall falling from high above the glistening cliffs. Actually, as expected: in the semi-darkness of Eilish's old little room, the dark straps of the strap-on glisten, highlighting her alabaster skin so well. How she'd managed to never once get caught with such a 'surprise' at fifteen centimeters - the eighth wonder of the world, no less. - "Well, Finn's condition you can see right now."

"And what did you confront him, Pirate?" - you take a few insistent steps, causing Billie to steps back and fall back onto the sheets of her bed with a smile, fleetingly touching the fabric of the open scarlet canopy. You dive in after her, hovering dominantly. The singer's gaze is breathtaking from the sultry and lustful look in your eyes.

"Not even Eilish anymore?"

She slides her palms under your shirt, stroking your waist. The warmth of her hands is so damn relaxing, you're already not even wanting to be angry for detailed shenanigans. Tugs on the bottom button with her fingers, taking a rhythmic route straight to your collar.

"It's not my fault you were sipping rum tea today like the most badass pirate of the seven seas." - You tease good-naturedly as the shirt slides off your shoulders, revealing it for the silver light of the moon from the window and the hungry blue gaze. Equal to her in terms of clothing, you peel Billie's T-shirt off as she obediently raises her arms for comfort. The smirk on her face mirrors yours exactly.

"I decided to keep Finneas' condition a secret for him, so he only realized at the table that I'd enlisted Clau's support," Eilish continued, watching with amusement as you first deftly tugged off her bodice and then personally exposed yourself like a model in front of a talented artist. - "Lucifer bless her multi-caliber concealed folder."

"Wait," you sit down on the bed next to her, knocked off your feet by the incoming information, the facts folding together in your head in a brisk fashion, like outstretched red threads on a detective's cork board. - "Are you telling me he was getting hot pictures of her all through dinner while you paralleled torturing both of us under the table?"

Billie nods slowly, savoring the pleasure of her own splendid prank, and you collapse into a histrionic laugh, finding a pillow with your hand. Remembering Finneas's sloppy exit from the table, pulling the already long edges of his sweatshirt taut, you nearly cry out in a fit of laughter, clutching the soft pillow tighter.

"You're such a bitch, Billie," you touch her lips as she gently takes the pillow back, hovering over you already.

"As it is," a new stroke on your neck, serving as her delicious dessert, setting her back to her former intimacy. Just below, near your collarbones is the slightly crooked scarlet flower of a hickey, eliciting a muffled moan from you. - "Kissing your partner on the cheek is a voluntary admission of defeat. And even though I lost, admit you're impressed."

"Oh, Captain, my Captain..." - you murmur, running your fingers along her ribs. He takes it as agreement.

Her gaze clings to the only thing left on you: blohsh's gold pendant, set with transparent white sapphires that look like stars in the night sky's companion light. Her heartly present. She grabs the pendant, pulling you gently toward her, so as not to break the chain, but you feel such indescribable strength from her in the gesture. Her free hand touches your cheek with all the tenderness she can muster.

"Mine," she whispers fervently through the kisses, your tongues clashing hotly. The tangy karamel, half bitter, golden rum flavor, the slightly stinging cinnamon, - "only mine precious girl. I can't tolerate stand to be around you."

"Only yours, Captain Eilish. Take me on a voyage of a lifetime with you, please."

And she speaks so confidently that you are ready to rip your heart out of your chest for her right now and present it to her in the palms of your hands, even hotter and only hers.

"I'll take you. Pirates always take their treasure with them forever."

×××

You lower yourself onto her strapon leisurely, trying not to make too much noise, though the knot of pleasure inside will soon burn through you like a magical sphere of fire. Billie holds you by the waist, thrusting only deeper, her mysterious night seas staring at you uninterrupted, wrapping you headlong in their warm waters. She burns out your naked body into her memory, noting that your most appropriate attire is only moon white light and nothing else. The rest is unnecessary tinsel.

"You're so flawless," the soft whisper of plump, templed lips is entirely polarized by the roughness of the thrust that follows. Her right palm slides down, smoothing over your pelvic bones, and then she touches your clit with her index finger, thrusting sharply again. You are immediately literally folded in half in an orgasm. And Eilish really can't get enough, she continues, "folding" you over and over like exquisite Chinese origami.

Even when you're off of her, you don't let yourself rest and drop to your knees, unbuckling the strap, peering into her already relatively sober oceans and touching the moist 'petals' with your tongue, taking you leisurely to the very bottom. You're still shaking slightly, and Eilish rumbles, her guttural moans barely audible.

A thump against the night stand and a cursing is heard from behind the wall opposite both of you. Billie chuckles.

"Maybe I lost," she throws her head back, gently pushing you closer with her hand. - "But the temptation is too sweet. And my girlfriend cum first, I won this one, sucker."

She lets out a chuckle, but immediately drowns in a silent moan as you lips press deliberately slow and pressurized. Someone has to teach your captain patience, right?

Eilish doesn't like alcohol, of course, but she definitely likes rum.