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knottedhearts · 1 month ago

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Lust in the air: B.E

Tw: Smut, foul language, sub Billie, and dom reader.

As the door to your apartment clicked shut behind you both, Billie looked up at you with a mix of anticipation and apprehension. Her eyes searched yours, looking for reassurance, a hint of the passionate storm that was about to unfold. You took a moment to appreciate her beauty, the way her heart-shaped face framed by her messy, dark hair, the soft fullness of her red-painted lips, and the tantalizing swell of her C-cup breasts beneath her tight, black t-shirt. Her nipples, small and pert, pushed against the fabric, begging for attention.

"Take off your clothes," you whispered, your voice thick with desire. Billie's hands trembled slightly as she obeyed, lifting the shirt over her head. Her breasts bounced free, the areolae a shade darker than the pale skin surrounding them, the nipples already erect and eager. You stepped closer, tracing the outline of her full, lush mounds with your fingertips, feeling the softness of her flesh give way to the firmness of her areolae.

"Lie down," you instructed, your eyes never leaving hers. She complied, her legs parting slightly as she lay on the couch. You knelt before her, admiring the view of her flat stomach leading down to the juncture of her thighs. Her panties were already damp, a testament to the excitement coursing through her veins. You gently slid them down, framing the delicate pink slit that was already glistening with anticipation.

"Spread your legs," you whispered, and she obeyed, exposing her tight, pink labia. U could see the hint of her clit, peeking out like a shy little pearl. "So pretty," U murmured, leaning in to kiss the soft mound of her pubis. She gasped, her hips rising slightly to meet your touch. "Keep them open," U said, placing a firm but gentle hand on each thigh. Her breathing grew shallower as you dipped your tongue into the warm, wet folds, savoring the sweet tang of her arousal.

Her body was a canvas of sensuality, and U painted it with slow, deliberate strokes of your tongue. U licked up and down the length of her slit, tracing the delicate line where her labia met her thighs, feeling her shiver at the touch. "Mm, you taste like heaven," you said, looking up to see her cheeks flush with pleasure. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her hands tangled in her hair, pulling at the strands as U teased her clit with the tip of your tongue.

You slid two fingers into her waiting pussy, feeling the warmth and wetness envelop them. She was tight, her inner muscles clenching around you, urging you deeper. "Oh, fuck," she whimpered, her legs trembling as U began to move your digits in and out, stroking her G-spot with a gentle rhythm that had her hips bucking against your face. "You're so wet," you murmured, your voice muffled by the flesh of her thighs.

Her moans grew louder, more insistent, as U sucked and licked her clit, rolling the little nub between your lips, feeling it swell and harden with each pass of your tongue. "More," she begged, her voice strained and desperate. U increased the pressure, the sound of your mouth against her flesh echoing in the quiet room. Her back arched, pushing her breasts towards the ceiling, the soft flesh quivering with each gasp.

"Yes," she hissed, her hips rocking in time with your ministrations. "Just like that." You could feel her body tightening around your fingers as you curled them, reaching for the spot deep inside her that would send her over the edge. Her legs began to shake, and you knew she was close. "Don't stop," she pleaded, her voice a breathy moan. You didn't intend to.

You flicked your tongue over her clit in rapid succession, feeling the tension build in her body. Her moans grew more intense, her breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. "Oh, god," she panted, her hands grasping at the couch cushions as if trying to anchor herself to reality. The scent of her arousal filled the air, intoxicating you, making you hungry for more. "You're going to make me cum," she whispered, her voice a desperate plea.

"That's it, baby," U encouraged, your voice low and sultry. "I want to feel you come all over my mouth." U pushed her legs further apart, exposing her to you completely, leaving her no choice but to surrender to the sensations. "You're so fucking wet for me," U murmured, lapping at her juices as they flowed from her. "Your pussy is begging for it."

"Fuck, yes," she groaned, her voice thick with lust. "Say it again. Tell me how much you want it." Her hands found their way to her breasts, squeezing and pinching her own nipples, rolling them between her fingers as U continued to feast on her.

"I want to taste every inch of you, baby," U murmured, your mouth never leaving her pussy. "Your sweet little cunt is like a treasure waiting to be devoured." Her back arched, pushing her pelvis up towards you, and U knew U had her exactly where U wanted her. "I'm going to make you scream my name."

"Fuck, yes," she moaned, her voice a symphony of pleasure. "I want to feel your mouth on me, your tongue inside me." Her words were like a siren's call, guiding you deeper into the depths of her desire. You lapped at her clit, swirling your tongue around the sensitive nub, feeling it pulse beneath U. "Tell me how good it feels," you demanded, your voice a seductive whisper.

"So good," she gasped, her eyes fluttering open to meet your own. "Your tongue, it's…it's driving me crazy." Her legs tightened around your head, and U could feel the muscles in her thighs tensing. "Don't stop," she pleaded, her voice a needy whine. "I'm…I'm going to cum."

"Tell me, baby," U whispered against her slick folds. "Tell me how much you need it." You slipped your fingers out of her, only to replace them with the flat of your tongue, pressing firmly against her G-spot. She jolted, a strangled cry escaping her lips. "I want to hear it," U growled. "How bad do you want to cum for me?"

Her voice was a breathy moan, "So…so badly." Her words were a whirlwind of need and want. "Your mouth is…fuck, it's…it's like nothing I've ever felt before." Her legs tightened around you, and her hips began to rock against your face in a silent plea for more. U chuckled darkly, feeling a thrill of power as U teased her closer and closer to the precipice.

You slid your tongue along her slit, tasting the sweetness that grew more intense with each passing moment. Her clit was a swollen pearl, begging for attention, so U flicked it rapidly with the tip of your tongue, feeling it pulse and swell beneath your ministrations. "Oh, fuck, yes," she cried out, her hips bucking wildly. "Just…just like that." Her nails dug into your scalp as she pulled you closer, urging you to never stop.

The scent of her arousal grew stronger, and you reveled in it, breathing her in as if she were an aphrodisiac. Her body was a symphony of pleasure, and U played her like an instrument, each stroke of your tongue a note that brought her closer to crescendo. "I'm…I'm gonna cum," she panted, her voice tight with need. "Oh, god, I'm gonna cum all over your face."

U chuckled again, the sound vibrating against her sensitive flesh. "Do it," you urged, your voice a dark demand. "Cum for me, Billie. Show me how much you love it." And with that, she shattered. Her body convulsed, her legs squeezing your head so tightly U could barely move as she rode out the wave of pleasure. Her juices flooded your mouth, and U swallowed greedily, never wanting it to end. Her cries of ecstasy filled the room, echoing off the walls like a carnally divine choir.

Her pussy quivered around your tongue as U licked up every last drop, savoring the taste of her orgasm. "Fuck, that was amazing," she gasped, her body finally going slack. U sat back on your heels, a smug smile playing on your lips as U watched the aftershocks of pleasure ripple through her. Her chest heaved, her breasts rising and falling with each ragged breath.

a/n: This took days to write.

#pov #billie eilish #billieeilish #hit me hard and soft #wlw #wlw post #billie eilish x you #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish smut #wlw smut #smut

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absolutebl · 24 days ago

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2024's 10 Best BL Kisses (and more)

Okay lushes, the one you have all been waiting for! My favorite BL kisses of 2024.

10 Last Twilight - Beach

9 My Damn Business - Leaving Forever

8 Cooking Crush - all of them

7 Kidnap - In the Bed in Blue

6 Cherry Magic Thailand - On the Rooftop

TayNew were a top tear OG class act this year. Tender, sweet, respectful and joyful. It was eye work and breath work and 8 years of comfort. How very far BL has come while still staying the same.

5 The Sign - Poolside

4 Love for Love's Sake - Beach Boyfriends

So sweet and smiling and soft with each other.

3 Wandee Goodday - Crying

You know me, I LOVE a crying kiss.

2 The Time of Fever - Teach Me

Possibly the only kiss trope I like MORE than the crying kiss, is the "teach me" kiss. SIGH. SO GOOD.

and now...... THE BEST KISS OF 2024!

1 Jack & Joker - We Boyfriends Now

I just, it was just. GREAT. So great. YinWar win.

BONUS! My Top 3 Sex Scenes of 2024!

3 This Love Doesn't Have Longbeans - Health Code Violation

2 Pit Babe - Alan & Jeff FINALLY

I know, same pair, but I love how different these were. Alan and Jeff are tender and loving, and waiting and pining. Oab and Plawan were fire.

1 The Sign - Most of it. The fantasies and that first actual sex scene where they revisit the fantasies. Brilliant. Wonderful. Carry on.

Look it's just the way Billy moves his hips and Babe's tiny waist and what can we do? No one else can even come close.

(source)

Addendum, someone did a pretty fun compilation of 2024 kisses:

youtube

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aliesbienish · 4 months ago

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A study of wolves

Paul Lahote x Reader.

A relocation to La Push brings more than just a new career.

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A rare sunny day was surely a good omen. You read that North West Washington state had one of the wettest climates in the country, so pulling into La Push with clear skies and warm sun rays was surely a positive sign. It was nice to finally be here, out of the bustling city and into an area of lush green trees and isolated beaches.

Deciding to apply for the graduate internship across the country was spur of the moment. Sure getting paid to complete ecological surveys of the areas wolf populations was a dream job, but you had no expectations of getting it and therefore no reason to believe you would be packing up your life. Yet two weeks ago that unrealistic dream suddenly became reality. So here you were in a small reservation town with all your belongings stuffed into the boot of your car feeling for the first time like a proper adult.

You had managed to find your way to a small wooden cabin on the outskirts of town, your home for the duration of this project. You had detoured to Seattle a few days previously to meet your new supervisor and to get training on the process, but otherwise you were pretty much autonomous. You were the only one from national parks stationed in the area, but the local La Push council were kind enough to support you during this project. They had approved use of their cabin, and negotiated to have a council member with you during work in the field. This you were rather thankful for, knowing that managing to get lost and costing the parks department money to send out a rescue wouldn’t be a good look for your career.

Stepping out of the car, and taking a big stretch, you turned around to see two men waiting on the cabins porch.

“You must be [y/n], welcome to La Push,” A smiling man in a wheelchair declared as he offered his hand to shake. “I’m Billy Black, the chief here. This is Sam Uley, he and a few others will be the ones to help you navigate our forests ,”

“Thank you for having me, it’s lovely to meet you both.”

“We just wanted to welcome you, as well as invite you out for a bonfire this evening. We tell traditional stories, and have a barbecue. But more importantly it would be a good chance to meet some locals.”

“Absolutely, as long as I’m not intruding that would be brilliant,”

“Not at all,” Sam’s deep voice replies, speaking for the first time. “My partner and I live a few houses down, we’ll collect you on our walk down so you don’t get lost,”

You smiles and nodded gratefully. After collecting the cabins keys from Billy and declining Sam’s help to move your bags, since you had so little anyway, they were on their way and you started to get settled.

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The summer sun was still high in the sky when Sam came to collect you that evening. He introduced you to his fiancé Emily who you instantly took a liking too. She seemed bubbly and inviting, happily asking questions and getting to know you. You had quickly schooled yourself when you first saw her, ignoring the scar that cut across her otherwise flawless face. However you were curious as it seemed to match the claw size of the gray wolves that roamed the area.

The walk to the beach was short and flat, and you were soon making your way out onto the sand. You heard the distant sound of chatter as Sam lead you passed driftwood and out onto the open beach. Ignoring the growing nerves settling in your stomach you followed him and Emily towards the large unlit bonfire surrounded by people. Billy was the first one you spotted and he quickly invited you over and introduced you to the other senior council members. He then called over his teenage son Jacob, who reluctantly said hi with his friends Quil and Embry.

After speaking with council members, mostly about the work you would be doing, it was time for food. Plates were passed around and you were happily munching on roast potatoes when the bonfire was lit and Billy’s voice started to reverberate around the group. The stories of the Quileute people and their shifter legends were fascinating. In particular their link with wolves sparked your interest, and you couldn’t help wonder how big the local wolf population was back in the days of Taha Aki.

Eventually the legends came to a close and you came back to reality. The older members began to pack up and Emily beckoned you over from further down the beach.

“[Y/N], hope you’re having a good time. The elders and kids will be heading off but we are staying around for a few drinks. If you’re happy to stay I can introduce you to a few people your own age.”

“That would be amazing,”

Emily smiled and thrust a can of beer into your hand which you gratefully accepted. A bit of liquid courage wouldn’t go astray. She lead you towards the small group hanging around the water.

“Hi [y/n], “ Sam greeted as you invaded the circle. “Babe,” he placed a kiss on Emily’s forehead and wrapped her into his side.

“[Y/n] is the parks worker who Billy told us about. [Y/n] this is Kim,” she pointed to the smiling short brunette who gave a small wave. “Her boyfriend Jared,” the taller boy with arms wrapped over Kim’s shoulders gave a cheery hello. “And Paul. Who along with Sam and Jared will be helping you with the study,”

You turned to face the last member of the small group, who had grunted as a greeting. Paul was the closest to you and you had to crane your neck to see him. Once you caught a glimpse of his face, which was lit by the dying embers of the fire, time seemed to slow. Your eyes met and you could hear him audibly gasp.

That trigged noise in the rest of the group that you didn’t quite understand. Emily gave a little clap, Jared and Kim giggled with each other and you were sure Sam was almost sighing in relief.

You snapped out of the trance and almost reluctantly pulled your gaze away.

“It’s lovely to meet you all, and thank you for being so welcoming.” You smiled, not realising your whole life was about to change.

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Part two

Well looks who’s branching out from Bridgerton. Thought it was time to go back to my fanfic writing roots, I almost feel like I’m 13 again. Anyone keen in a part two?

#twilight imagine #twilight fanfiction #twilight x reader #paul lahote #paul lahote imagine #paul lahote x reader #paul x reader #paul imagine

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milliesfishes · 4 months ago

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Omg I could really use some PK coryo angst from you, every time you write an angsty snippet about him I die 😭 PK coryo is something else

꣑ৎ౨ৎThe Bodyguard꣑ৎ౨ৎ

[fem reader] contains: attempted kidnapping pairing: peacekeeper coriolanus snow x fem reader summary: after a scary incident, your father takes what you deem unnecessary precautions author’s note: anon I apologize for not answering this sooner but I hope this fulfills the need <3 tagging @melo-bees thank you so much for this idea lovey!! Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

Skipping through the town square, you dodged a few stray people, bestowing them large smiles and letting your bag swing as you passed through. You hummed something to yourself, basking in the sunlight. Summer was in full bloom, and you reveled in it, feeling as though you were in a whirlwind of happy things.

Maybe you shouldn't be out here by yourself. Maybe you should have told someone where you were going, like your mother or a maid or something. But it was just a quick pop into the market, to say hello to a few people and maybe get something pretty for yourself.

The arduous years of school had ended in the spring, and you'd proudly taken your diploma and hung it in a silver frame on your wall. A part of you mourned the loss of that time, knowing the innocence of those years would be pried from your hands and twisted into something worth marrying. But the other held onto the spark of youth that somehow hadn't been doused by your parent's warnings of the future.

"A young lady shouldn't wander the streets by herself." "A young lady needs protection." Given your father's prominence, there were legions of Peacekeepers at his disposal, and he'd made empty threats of putting one or more on your tail. But you waved them off. They were nothing but air.

Clasping the hands of a woman behind a vendor's stall, you squealed, bouncing on your heels. "Oh, Ember you've outdone yourself this week." The jewelry spread out across the wooden surface of the table was exquisite, metal twisting around itself, stones embedded as the tiniest of details. You held up a pair of earrings, letting the light catch the gold and emphasize the red shine of the tiny rocks nestled in the crafted design. "Would it be alright if I got these?"

"Of course, honey," she smiled, taking the coins you slipped into her hands. Counting them, she frowned and tried to pass a few back. "That's too much-"

"Really? Could've sworn you undercharged." Grinning, you swapped your old earrings out, stowing them safely in a pocket of your bag.

Ember gave you an exasperated look. "Now-"

"It's been a pleasure, I'll see you next time!" You tossed a few more coins on the table, letting them rattle and clink against each other as you broke into a run, skipping away. Ember's laugh followed you like an echo, and you smiled as you pictured her shaking her fist at you.

Your new earrings bounced against your cheeks as you ran down the alleyway and down the lush forest path, holding your skirts in both hands. It was always while running that you felt the freest. And so you did it over and over again, through the trees and streets, through every place you could think of.

With the wind on your legs, you felt liberty's sweet caress all around. It lifted the corners of your lips and practically made you levitate. If feathers sprouted from your limbs and air built up under your arms, sending you soaring into the clouds, you wouldn't have been surprised.

This could be your life. Dancing around town and supporting your friends in the way they needed you to. Nodding along to your father's requests and then turning your cheek. This was boundless, beautiful-

You smacked something firm, the force of it knocking you backwards. Shoulders hitting the dirt, your hair became a curtain over your eyes that you didn't part right away. The collision had stolen your breath, and you chased it back, finally able to grasp and shove it back into your mouth.

Blinking wearily, you swept your hair out of your eyes and got a good look at what had interrupted your joyful flee. A man, clothes tattered, face streaked with dirt. A hat shaded his eyes, but you could see the firmness in them.

An apology bubbled up, escaping your lips as you scrambled to your feet. "I'm so sorry, I wasn't watching where-"

"You're the mayor's daughter." The words were frozen like glaciers, and you lifted your lips in a sweet smile, hoping to thaw him.

"If you'll excuse me-"

His hands were gripping you tight suddenly, roughened nails leaving imprints on your skin. You gasped, wiggling in his hold and trying to squirm away. "I really...if you'd just let me go-"

"How much d'you think Daddy's gonna gimme for givin' his pretty daughter back?" The question sent snakes slithering up your spine, wrapping around your throat. The look in his eyes was haunting, hungry. You cried out, trying to reach out and push him away but he held your wrists fast, twisting one and sending a sharp pain up your arm.

It happened before you could even think. Your knee shot up like a missile, landing between the man's legs. When he shouted, releasing your arms to clutch himself, you caught a glimpse of his mouth. It was unclear whether he was missing teeth or if they were blackened by dust.

You didn't stick around to find out. Now your running had a new purpose, and you sprinted down the road, sobs moving past your lips choked and desperate. Hot tears stung your cheeks as they poured down like rain.

Fear struck you like an arrow, hitting dead center. Over and over you'd been told of people who would be out to get you solely because of the position of your birth, but never before had you witnessed it. As you reached the edge of town, darting back through the narrow alleyway and leaning on the wall to catch your breath, you shuddered involuntarily and hurriedly wiped the tears away from your face.

"Are you alright?"

A gasp clenched your breath and your head snapped up, heart pounding before you realized who stood before you. A tall man in a Peacekeeper's uniform with blue eyes like cornflowers, clutching a weapon. Your shoulders sagged in relief, and your eyes fell to the ground, foot toeing at the cobblestone. "I'm fine."

"You don't look fine." His voice was low and you managed to meet his eyes, holding your chin high.

Studying him, you were almost surprised at how young he appeared to be. Close to your age, surely. It was such a strange thing, to be so close in age and yet so starkly different.

"I'm fine. I'm just having a bad day," you said, wiping your eyes again. It felt humiliating to talk about what had just happened, and so you sealed your lips.

The Peacekeeper's mouth was set in a firm line, and you could tell he didn't believe you for one second. "May I walk you home?" Now you could see the flicker of recognition in his eyes, and you knew the idea of your father was bouncing around in his head. Maybe he wanted praise, or a monetary reward. The chances of him doing it out of the goodness of his heart were low.

Mustering a smile you hoped was sweet, you shook your head, clutching your bag and sidestepping him. "No thank you. I'll manage."

"You're-"

"I'm fine!" you called, already walking away. This time you clung to the shadows rather than enjoying the sunshine. Nobody else needed to see you like this.

It was embarrassing enough that a man with eyes the color of the sky you so badly wanted to soar into had.

The delicate lace of your curtains looked so pretty in the sunshine, and you clasped them in your fingers, pleased to find them warm. Lying stretched out across your bedspread, you smiled brightly, kicking one foot up into the air. The bundle of wildflowers on your nightstand was tied with a ribbon, and their sweetened scent greeted your nose.

It had been a perfect day in the forest, lying amongst the flora and fauna. You'd brought your picnic with you as usual, reading to yourself and enjoying the quiet. In the past bit you'd hardly been able to have a moment to yourself, making today all the more magical.

Since that awful day a week ago you hadn't breathed a word to anybody about what had happened, although you knew your mother suspected something was wrong when you came home with dried tear tracks staining your face like berry juice.

She'd occupied you with social visits of all kinds, to people far and wide across the town. There were only so many parlors you could sit in, so many polite smiles you could offer for so many days in a row before you went crazy.

Of course she meant well. But today was your day, and you had enjoyed it immensely.

Your father's voice pierced the quiet and you sat up when you realized he was calling for you. Swinging your legs to the side of the bed, you stood and stretched, muscles popping like bubbles. It was rare that he summoned you before dinner, and you wondered what he wanted to discuss now. If it was the prospect of another son of a wealthy acquaintance you wanted no part of it.

Making it to his office, you paused in the doorway. Had you known your father wasn't alone, maybe you would have taken the time to smooth your dress or run a brush through your hair.

Standing there in front of him was a young man in a Peacekeeper's uniform, blond hair buzzed to his scalp, hat under his arm. You shyly clung to the frame and watched them exchange words for a moment before they noticed you.

When the other man turned it hit you like a stone. Those eyes. The color of a summer sky. You were frozen for a moment, staring at him and feeling nothing except your heartbeat pounding your ribs. His gaze didn't tear away from you either, and for a moment you felt as though you were the only two people in the room.

What was he doing here?

Your father broke the tension, clearing his throat. "I'll expect you back here tomorrow."

"Yes, sir." The man tore his gaze from you and nodded at your father, shaking his extended hand. "I look forward to it."

On the way out, he paused, giving you a nod. "Miss." You tried to ignore the flutter in your chest.

It wasn't until the front door shutting announced his departure that your father spoke to you. "That was Private Snow."

"Ah." You nodded, shifting on your feet and further entering the room. "Is he going to be here more often?" Now you were imagining him standing guard with the other Peacekeepers protecting your home and family, gorgeous eyes piercing your soul every time you left the bounds.

"Yes." Your father smoothed his beard, studying you. "He'll be here for you."

Straightening, you tilted your head, brow knitting. "For me? What-?"

"For your protection." Before you could argue, he firmly said, "An incident was brought to my attention recently. Apparently, you were seen hysterical in an alley."

Your lips parted and you tried to speak, the words coming out in a pathetic stutter. "I...it was...nothing-"

He held up a hand, effectively silencing you. Your fingers found your skirt, twisting the fabric and clenching it tight as every possible excuse swam through your head. But you could see now that it would fall upon deaf ears. For every time he'd warned you, he'd finally made good on his threat.

"You've been far too careless," he began, each word with an edge like a knife. You swallowed, bowing your head as he continued. "Running around town and cavorting with whoever you want. That ends now. It's very clear you can't handle yourself."

Tears were pricking your eyes, and you suppressed a sniffle. This was humiliating, to be reprimanded by your father for something that wasn't even your fault. In a whisper, you tried, "I didn't mean to-"

A shake of his head cut you off. "Private Snow will be accompanying you from now on wherever you go. You'll have constant supervision so I don't have to deal with you every time you get yourself into something stupid. There will be no further discussion." He turned back to his desk, waving a hand and indicating your dismissal.

The walk back up to your room was slow and shameful. Frustration brimmed at the edges of you, poking and prodding at your head. Constant supervision...already you mourned the loss of your precious alone time, the freedom you had enjoyed. Now you would have a shadow trailing behind you carrying a gun.

Shutting the door, you let your tears fall freely, though no sobs parted your lips and split your soul open. You tried to convince yourself that maybe this could be okay. It wasn't like your routine would be interrupted. It only meant that he would be there.

Sniffling and drying your eyes, you took a deep breath, eyes falling on the wildflowers again. It would be okay. Everything would be okay. It was for your own safety after all.

You tried to picture it then, a prophetic vision. The man who'd looked at you in a way nobody had before, who'd awoken some strange feeling in your heart protecting you.

It stayed with you for the rest of the day, trickling into your dreams.

In Coriolanus' life, he'd been mildly interested in a great many people. Ones who could aid his journey to the top or help him play the game of the Capitol's choosing and change the rules for him. He'd been interested, is all.

But he'd never been utterly enchanted by anyone before. Not until you.

All too often he chided himself. The daughter of the mayor, the girl he was only supposed to be keeping an eye on. Really, whatever he was feeling needed to stop immediately. It was blatantly unprofessional.

And yet here he was, standing in a field under the shade of a tree and watching you use your skirt as a makeshift basket as you gathered strawberries into it. Tucked haphazardly in the crook of your arm was a messy bunch of wildflowers. Your hair was loose, taken out of the braid he'd watched your mother approve before you left the house.

You were a vision, something not meant for his hopeless eyes.

Coriolanus took every bit of his life as a Peacekeeper seriously, but this was another matter entirely. It perplexed him how much more committed he'd found himself once every aspect of his duties were steered in your direction.

He'd once felt fascination for Lucy Gray, whom he'd pulled every stop for to get her out of the arena. A girl with a voice like a songbird whose dedication to her found family had inspired him. She had been his ticket out of poverty, and he clung to it with every fiber of his being. When his methods had been unveiled, resulting in his life sentence to the military, he'd kept at his trying, attempted to bribe his way to her.

The attempt had failed, and now he was in Two, among forest confines. At least he wasn't breathing in coal dust. And now there was you.

Given strict instructions on where you were and weren't supposed to go, Coriolanus had known you would be a stubborn case. From the moment he'd recognized you in the alley he'd gotten the feeling that you were as free spirited as a bird. Your father had seemed all too happy to hand you off. Coriolanus hadn't understood why until this morning.

"It's not dangerous," you'd protested in the kitchen this morning, cutting a few slices of bread. "I go there all the time. There's nothing but trees."

"Your father said not to allow you to go past the town limits," he countered, voice firm. He felt like a giant next to you as you delicately gathered your food into the wicker basket shaped like a heart, pink linen lining the insides.

Giving him an exasperated look, you brushed a stray strand away from your face. It had been bothering him for a minute, and he'd longed to do that exact thing. "What could possibly happen if you're going to be with me the whole time?"

Huffing slightly, Coriolanus felt the beginnings of a headache twinge at his temples. A week into this endeavor and he could already tell you were going to be difficult. You fought him at every turn, pleading with him to let you go literally everywhere on the list of prohibited places.

The market on the wrong side of town. A nighttime club with live music. And now the forest, which had particularly been emphasized to him by your father.

You'd batted your eyelashes and shut the lid of the basket. "Please? You've done such a good job at keeping me safe. And it's not that deep in the forest, just a little bit of a walk."

The white dress you were wearing was edged with fine spun lace at the neckline, exposing your collarbone. He tried not to stare at it, tried not to make it so obvious that he found every angle of you beautiful.

Unhelpfully, the look you were giving him reminded him of a doe, the pretty one who pranced among snowflakes in the picture books with rich illustrations his mother used to read him. He was struck dumb for a moment, staring at you.

"Okay."

The little squeal you gave was worth it alone, along with the way you grabbed his wrist and squeezed. "Thank you!"

Now he was watching you in your element, feeling like he'd stumbled upon a nymph. Your essence trailed behind you like fairy dust.

You spotted him watching you and threw him a sweet smile, one that gnawed at the edges of his heart. He somehow found it in him to snap to his senses, boots crinkling the grass as he made his way over to you. No longer did he have to carry the enormous Peacekeeper's gun, only a small one at his hip. This was one of many perks of working directly for your family, among being moved from the base to the servant's quarters of the house, and of course, you.

Now close to you, he solemnly said, "We should head back," expecting your face to fall or for you to try and pout your way into thirty more minutes. Coriolanus had grown accustomed to your methods in very little time, as they were tried and true.

Instead, you nodded and tried to shift your flowers up the crook of your elbow. "Could you take these? I want to put the berries in my basket."

Coriolanus removed your bouquet, feeling a little silly as he watched you deposit the strawberries. The skirt of your dress was lightly stained with red juice, and he wondered if it was as sweet as you were.

You reached your hand out from where you were kneeling, about to take the flowers when you groaned, letting your arm fall. "My hair. I have to braid my hair. Hold on-" you gathered it up and let it fall behind your shoulders, clumsily separating it into three sections. Your movements were messy, the result a crooked pattern traveling down your back. Tying it off with your ribbon, you reached up once again, expecting him to hand you the bouquet.

He was staring at your hair, frowning. You re-emphasized your hand. "I can take them now-"

"Your hair doesn't look anything like how it did when we left." He studied the messy attempt, and you half smiled.

"It's fine. Nobody pays attention to that."

Coriolanus pressed his lips into a firm line. If you came back looking even slightly like you'd been in the forest, his entire position could be jeopardized. It was bad enough your skirt was stained, but that could be played off. There was no place in town you were allowed to go where you'd be able to take your hair down. Women around here always had it pinned up or pulled back in some way.

Anxiety pulsed at his heart as he imagined what would happen if you were discovered. He'd be disciplined for not following orders and sent back to the barracks, maybe even demoted. Worse, he wouldn't be allowed to be near you anymore. You, who were quickly becoming what he orbited around.

Dropping to his knees and setting your flowers to the side, he paused before he touched your ribbon. "May I?"

You raised your eyebrows. "it's not a big deal Coriolanus."

He ignored how his name sounded with your lips wrapped around it. That was something he could dwell on later, when he was staring at the ceiling and trying to fall asleep. Instead, he gave you a look. "Just let me."

Shrugging, you faced forward and nodded. He untied your ribbon, fingers unweaving the mess you'd made of your soft hair. It was pretty- tumbling down your back like a waterfall, and he savored holding it.

Coriolanus combed his fingers through it once before meticulously separating the sections. You were perfectly still, the peace of the area enveloping you both. He was lost in the task for a moment, carefully weaving the strands together.

Your soft voice lilted his ears. "How do you know how to do this?"

"My cousin used to have me braid her hair," he murmured distractedly, careful as he smoothed one section before folding it over another. "Every day before she went to school."

"Oh." The word was quiet, and he had the feeling you'd have turned around if he'd have let you. "Do you miss her?"

He was surprised by the question, swallowing and nimbly finishing the bottom half of your braid. "Yes." Nobody had asked him about his family since arriving. The closest had been when he'd filled out the Corso address on the form that directed where his pay would be sent.

Tying the silky white ribbon around the end, securing your hair in place, he cleared his throat and sat back, getting to his feet. "All done."

You lifted your eyes to him, and he was rewarded by that sweet smile again. Coriolanus held out his hand and you took it, standing up with your flowers in one hand and your basket hooked over the same arm. For a moment, your soft hand stayed in his, soft fingers wrapped around his palm. "Thank you," you breathed, meeting his gaze.

It took a moment for him to find his words. Even the mere sight of you shook him to his core. "You're welcome."

On the walk back home, you let go of his hand and he mourned its loss for a moment before you slipped your own into the crook of his elbow, eyes darting around the space. He'd noticed you do this on the walk over too, searching the space as if you were expecting something to appear from the tree line.

As you walked quietly beside him, he thought of the first day he'd seen you, with tears falling and eyes blown wide. You'd come from the forest then too, and he wondered what had scared you so badly it had lingered. You bit the inside of your cheek and took in a shaky breath.

"I'll keep you safe." The words slipped out, but he made no attempt to remedy them.

If his heart was going to spark every time you looked at him, it would be a fire in no time. You searched his eyes, squeezing his elbow. Even through his uniform shirt he could feel your hand warm from the sun. If he wanted to (and he very much did) he could count every freckle you'd gained from your time outside.

With no more than a smile and a sweetheart's demeanor, you'd ignited something so untouchable in his soul, something that almost scared him. It was untouchable, boundless. An ocean of wonder he was only beginning to set sail on.

If the boat capsized and drowned, he'd go happily.

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sigweiner · 7 months ago

Text

Saccharine Dreams P.1

Pairing: Billie Eilish/ Fem!reader

Word Count: 2078

Summary: You’re awakened from a deep sleep by your very needy {horny} girlfriend.

Warnings!: Smut, swearing and very explicit content.

a/n: This is my first Billie fic so I hope people can enjoy it. Also English is not my first language.

Part 2 here

There were luscious pink lips and dim sunshine glistening on pale cerulean eyes. A haze of intertwined limbs and lush deep green grass. The perfume coming off of her hair was intoxicating. You felt like you were melting into each other, crawling in each other's skin like the sweetest delight. She whispered something unintelligible in your ear and as you felt her warm breath prickling your skin you turned to face her.

"Come again sweetheart?" You whispered back.

She smiled at you, her mouth a hypnotizing vessel. You felt the cosmically gravitational pull of her essence control your senses effortlessly leading you to go in and kiss the pretty off of her. Devouring her shadows without abandon. She smiles between your lazy kisses and whispers something yet again. You're completely outside of yourself, maybe you two have melded into each other already.

She starts squirming impatiently, clinging to your shoulders for dear life while you kiss a path from her jaw to her neck. You realize her legs are straddling your knee when she rocks her hips forward seeking release. A desperate urge to unravel her washes over you with the force of a thousand waves.

You're suddenly awakened from your saturated slumber. There is a soft whimper accompanied by warm breath grazing your neck. You try to make sense of the situation unfolding in the moonlit room, a cool summer breeze agitates the sheer curtains adorning the half open windows. You feel more movement coming from the girl laying next to you. Actually she's more like half on top of you, one leg lazily draped over yours and her face buried on your neck.

You reach for the back of her head stroking her long black hair. First thing that comes to mind is that your girlfriend Billie is having a nightmare which is making her restless in her sleep. She grabs the hem of your pajama shirt and tries to move closer to you. You hear her whisper "More." slightly rocking her hips on your thigh, however it appears she's still in dream land.

Realization hits you finally making you smile wide at your girlfriend's wet dream seeping into reality. You move the hand that is stroking her hair to her waist when she tries yet again to ride your leg, a little harder now. She whimpers again. You find yourself in a dilemma: Billie is always very grumpy when she's woken up, no matter if there's a good reason for it or not. You sigh softly contemplating your options.

"Please." She mumbles in her sleep trying to pull you closer again. Some of her hair is already sticking to her dampened neck with the effort she's making. You lift your leg towards her center and you can feel her shorts are almost soaked.

"Billie, wake up love." You decide to speak softly, stroking her back to try and bring her into consciousness. She murmurs grumpily, turning her face towards your voice.

"You were dreaming, angel." You tell her in your drowsy voice. "Were you having fun?" You ask her with an amused smile on your face.

Billie lifts her head slightly with a frown between her eyebrows, eyes barely open and mouth slightly agape. You move some hair off her face and kiss her cheek sweetly. She tries to move only to realize what's between her legs. She looks confusingly down at your intertwined bodies.

“W-what?” She slurs, still not entirely conscious. She lets out a frustrated huff looking very flustered.

"What were you dreaming about, my love?" You ask her to redirect her attention towards you. She ends up burying her face again into your shoulder and whines seemingly remembering what was going on in her unconscious state moments before. "Tell me, please." You plead, stroking her hair tenderly again. She sighs heavily.

"I-I was dreaming about you." She responds slowly and almost timidly. She's still hiding her face from you but you can feel the warm embarrassment coming off of her.

"Yeah? Were we having fun?" You casually ask her, trying to bring normality to the situation.

“Yeah… ugh it's so embarrassing.” she chastises herself. You can't help but smile at your adorable girlfriend. This is such a high contrast from her usual confidence you feel lucky to be able to witness her vulnerability.

“There's nothing embarrassing about it baby, you looked like you were enjoying it and uh I feel lucky I was even in it.” You try to cheer her up. She chuckles and finally looks up at you.

“Well you are pretty damn hot so I couldn't help it.” she quips back. And just like that her confidence is back. She lifts herself on an elbow now looking into your eyes. You're taken aback by the intensity of her fresh off slumber beauty.

“Oh I see… that's um completely understandable.” You try to say something comprehensible but you find it hard to concentrate when Billie is looking at you with hungry eyes. “I feel bad though for waking you up when you seemed to be enjoying it so much.” You twirl a strand of her hair between your fingers.

“You could always make it up to me…” Billie is so close to you, her sweet breath caresses your now flustered skin.

“Tell me what was happening in the dream.” You demand. Billie usually doesn't like being told what to do but she knows you couldn't care less about power dynamics or about who's winning or losing. You just want to possess her rapture.

"We were lying on a field and I was wearing a dress...and you had your hand between my legs." She responded slowly describing the familiar scenario. You slide your free hand down her body and cup her heated core feeling how wet she is.

"Like this?" You ask, starting to stroke her through the fabric of her pajama shorts. She draws in a sharp breath.

"K-kinda. You were actually inside and I wasn't wearing anything underneath the dress." She explains, then proceeds to slightly grind on your hand. You suddenly remove your hand and she whines at the absence of your touch.

"Patience sweetheart." You tell her, kissing her lips softly. "Now take your shorts off for me, will you?" You command against her warm mouth.

Billie wastes no time in pushing down her bottoms down her strong legs, kicking them off her impatiently. She cups your face with her hands and kisses you intensely, sliding her tongue onto yours without abandon. You take this opportunity to fondle her breasts through her top with one hand then slide down your nimble fingers to where she wants you the most. She drapes her leg over your hip now giving you better access to her center.

"Good girl, always so willing for me." You tell her leaving open mouthed kisses on her neck. She arches her back towards you and moans at your praising words. "Tell me what you want." You demand again.

"Please fuck me" She whines while you stroke her pussy lightly. "Please, I need your fingers inside m-fuck!" She gasps as you push two fingers inside her with ease. She was so wet there was barely any resistance. You gave her a moment to adjust to the stretch before slowly pumping your fingers inside her.

"Fuck you feel so good baby." You whisper in her ear.

She moans and rocks her hips to the rhythm of your strokes desperately trying to seek her release. You sneak your other arm underneath her to reach for her ass. You grab at her butt cheek, pulling half of her body on top of yours to help her grind harder on your fingers, the angle hitting just the right spot. Her breathy pants become increasingly erratic and she tries to hide her moans on your neck.

You bend your hand so your thumb is stroking her hardened clit with each pump of your fingers. Billie can't help but moan loudly at the attention on her straining bud. She comes up to kiss you sloppily, breathing erratically the harder you fuck her.

“I was dreaming about you too, y’know…” You confess once you pull away from each other's lips. A look of concentration adorns her delicate features. You slow down your fingers a little. “We were laying on grass completely tangled in each other and you were whispering things I couldn't understand then we started making out but I guess your dream woke me up.” You explain.

Billie is looking at you like you've just performed a magic trick. You stop your movements altogether thinking you might have ruined the moment by saying something wrong. The brunette starts fucking herself on your fingers unable to wait for your insecurity, reminding you she wants this, she wants you. So you start moving again.

“I can't believe we were having the same dream.” She marvels and you figure it is quite outlandish to be in another dimension and even then your souls still manage to find each other like magnets. But at the same time you know this isn't the first time you've been together. “That's fucking hot.” she lets out one of her fun laughs you love so much and kisses you hard with renewed fervor.

It doesn't go over your head the grandiosity of this moment and of how easy it is for you two to understand each other on a molecular level, or a spiritual one even. The woman you love and have loved before, your Billie, reciprocates your infatuation. That sounds like a miracle to you so you promise yourself right then and there that you will cherish this precious thing you two have no matter what.

"I- need- more." She tries to speak against your mouth. She pulls you back to reality with the force of her lust and an idea forms in your mind.

“Turn around baby girl.” You command warmly. She acquiesces and lets go of you to turn her body on the opposite direction, facing away from you.

You flush your entire body against the back of hers, deliciously grinding on her thick ass. You lift her leg, resting it over your own so you can bury three fingers inside her needy pussy. She moans loudly at the stretch so you wait yet again for her to grow used to it. You can feel her body trembling with desire and it reverberates on your own.

"This what you wanted?" Your voice cracks at the end, arousal creeping up on you sneakingly. She hums positively, unable to say much else so you start pumping into her again, the sounds of your movements completely obscene with how wet Billie was. You knew she wasn't gonna last much longer at this rate.

You move her hair out of the way so you can kiss and suck on her neck. Her enticing scent overcomes your senses, making you feel the need to devour Billie's avidity until she's empty. You snake your free hand under her neck and close your fingers around it lightly, grounding her. One of her hands automatically finds her own straining bud adding to her pleasure.

"Are you close baby?". You ask her.

"So- close." She pants each word. You can't help but buck your hips into her one more time, trying to seek release as well.

"Then show me how pretty you look when you come for me." You say curling your fingers inside of her in an angle that makes her eyes roll.

Billie's orgasm overpowers her senses as her entire body quivers with electrical shock waves. Her back arches naturally elevating her pleasure and you feel her pussy tightening around your knuckle deep buried fingers. You help her ride her ecstasy slowing down your movements. She eventually slumps down on you so you release the hold you have on her neck and start peppering her shoulder with tender kisses. When you remove your fingers from inside her she whines at the delicious ache you left there.

Your hand is completely covered in Billie's juices, you don't think you've ever seen her this wet. You start reaching for your shirt to wipe some of it off but Billie takes your hand and starts to clean herself from your fingers. Your hand disappearing in front of her head, she sucks and licks your fingers, moaning softly at the taste of her. You can't help it when your legs rub on each other seeking friction.

#wlw #billie eilish #billie eilish x reader #lesbian #billie eilish imagine #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish x fem!reader #celebrity imagine #chachachannah dividers #billie eilish x y/n #roseschoices dividers

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sevenop · 3 months ago

Note

may you feed the angst monster? it yearns the pain and ache of a childhood friends to lovers but they never actually get to be lovers? perhaps one's moves away or billie thinks she's too busy and won't be enough? (happy ending though cuz angst monster is a little sensitive baby)

Billie Eilish x Fem!reader: Parallel lines

A/n: Broken knees, unspoken words at one time, and a bunch of motley band-aids . As a child, you carefully tend to Billie's every bruise and wound, hiding them behind the surface of funny band-aids, while she herself hides from you like seven seals, covering herself with a half-hearted smile. A few years later, having suddenly cut off all ties with each other, you meet again - she is a world-famous star, still breaking her knees, you are a paramedic assigned to her in a hurry, who has a set of absurd band-aids in your pocket.

"Billie!" The child's voice trembles fearfully, picked up by the sultry wind of early morning, which is already spilling across the sky with the barely rolled orange disk of the sun, so seductively reminiscent of a juicy orange. The wind blasts you with a new wave of heat, and you shaking as if you'd been thrown out the door into a crackling, freeze-stinging winter in just a t-shirt - fear creeps to the very bottom of your soul, clinging to the strings of your nerves along the way. You clutch the half-full water bottle restlessly in your palms a few times, making the plastic crunch loudly. "Billie! Please get off!"

"There's more!" Eilish chuckles sonorously, gleefully, like a bird, and climbs up the tree farther and higher, as if he wants to touch the lush green leaves of the spreading crown with his fingers. "I'll prove to you that it's not the least bit scary, Y/n!"

You bite your lower lip in excitement, and it's as if it's the only thing that helps you hold back the hailstones of tears coming insistently to your eyes: such an interesting and bizarre contrast, with you on the ground almost sobbing and her laughing aloft.

"Please, Billie..." You sniffle your nose, wiping the very tip with the stretched sleeve of your red sweatshirt, making the fabric immediately get a little wet. Your voice is about to break in its pitifulness and break.

Billie turns around, looking over her shoulder at you from above, and for a few moments her confident, clear-blue river softens in her gaze, causing her eyebrows to arch and arch, and her small lips to stretch at the very corners in an awkward but understanding smile.

"Okay, I'll-" her phrase-agreement is immediately drowned out in her own shriek as Billie puts her foot lower on the tree trunk without looking, too hastily, and as a result: slips sharply on the sandpaper-like bark, clinging with palms in fear. She snaps off, and with indescribable frustration flopping backwards on the ground, right up to the roots of the young oak tree, onto the grass spread out around you like a green carpet.

"Eilish!" You immediately run up to her, snapping in an asynchronous ricochet like a frightened gopher gerbil. You plop down on the ground in front of her, palms on her shoulders, squeezing them a little, either for support or for your own reassurance.

Billie whimpers softly, dropping her gaze into the green of the park lawn as mournfully as if she'd lost the war: more, clear beads of tears rolling down her face, her cheeks starting to turn pink. Confusion mixed with the blush of weeping.

"Does it hurt much...?" You ask quietly, stroking her head soothingly with your small palm. She sniffs her nose loudly, shows you her bloodied palms and nods silently, stoically swallowing a loud, tearful howl. You release your gaze a little lower and stare at her bloody mottled knees, only now the mottling, unlike her hands, is covered with black smears of dirt and green grass sap. Actively appearing scarlet beads of blood on her skin make you cringe and fumble with trembling fingers in your shorts pocket for a crumpled pack of band-aids, a small permanent "amulet" handed to you every day. handed to you repeatedly by your mom. "I'll help..."

You hurriedly unscrew the bright yellow cap from the bottle, and a dozen images flash before your eyes: how did your mom do it? What did she say? It seems like you should always wash the wound first, right? You nod confidently to your thoughts, and then you tilt the bottle gently, lifting the neck to her skinned knees: a clean, cool trickle of water pulls all the dirt right down with it, dripping onto the ground as you help with your palm, barely touching the tortured skin, and Billie only hisses painfully, but doesn't move away from you, only her legs twitching faintly in pain. You rustle a few strips of Band-Aids out of the box, frowning seriously like a doctor, and pick up the paper protecting the soft pad of the Band-Aid and its sticky layer with your fingertips. When the bloody meshes and peeled skin fall under the undeniable protection of your pink Hello Kitty patches, glued on a little crookedly but firmly, Eilish holds out her palms to you, looking straight at you, trust, gratitude, and a silent plea for forgiveness in her weeping blue eyes. You silently rinse her hands, too, cover the wounds with rectangles of girl's band-aids, and hold her close in a comforting embrace. Billie sniffs, but clings to you in response, her hands buzzing and burning with pain tightly clasped behind your back. Unconditional mutual reassurance and trust.

"Aren't you going to tell mom...?" Her hot, low whisper tickles your ear pleasantly.

And you answer, snuggling only closer to her, "I won't."

And you two don't care that everything will be absurdly obvious to Maggie when you get back home.

×××

"Eilish, you're going to kill yourself someday!" You frown, grasping the weighty cotton roll with your fingers and pulling hard, sharply: the little fluffy lump is on your clinging fingertips in no time. You immediately deftly pick up the bottle with a sharp-smelling antiseptic, blotting the absorbent cotton and pre-treating your palms. The open wounds on your fingers (stupid habit of tearing cuticles) are instantly stung by the alcohol, but you don't even twitch: it's a matter of habit. "Do you want to be without knees at all by the time you're old?"

Eilish hums, shaking her head to brush ash-gray strands of hair out of her eyes. She bites her lip and staring childishly into the bedroom floor, never admitting that her bloody knees stung, never making a sound, proudly swallowing every it, even the ones that came up in the back of her throat.

"I had to put my best foot forward today." Her detached voice draws your tenacious, frowning gaze to the top of her head in an instant.

"That doesn't mean you have to paint the dance studio floors maroon!" You hissing at her in a parental manner, fumbling with your hands in your small makeshift med-bag for cooling ointment for bruises.

You mutter to yourself, and Eilish smiles dully, impenetrable and silent, no longer answering. She twitches slightly a couple times, the first from the sharp contrast of the cold ointment against her skin temperature as you gently rub the ointment into her knees, and the second from a mild fit of tics, her head jerking toward the ceiling. You can tell now that she's definitely nervous about something. You gently touch her face with your chiseled palms only when you finish gluing stupid plasters with painted spiders on her wounds, and wiping your hands with a damp cloth. The sterility habit attaches itself to you so imperceptibly that you don't even realize it.

"Hey," you whisper softly, and Billie immediately flatters her cheek against your palm. "I'm sorry if I grumbled like a grandmother again."

The blue oceans in her eyes murmur, foaming with something incomprehensible, but clearly not malicious. A soft smile crossed by a glance back to the pile of the carpet as her head jerks sharply again in a Tourette's tic. "It's nothing." Her quiet whisper.

You only put your arms around her, gently wrapping your long arms around her in the manner of a life preserver, the only thing that will keep Eilish from drowning in the murk of her own thoughts right now. Her shoulders and back are tense like a tight string, but her hands, sliding down somewhat lazily over your shoulder blades through the cotton of your voluminous black t-shirt, are gentle, careful.

"Will you tell me?" You whisper softly, trying not to sneeze as her ash-gray strands climb up your nose: soft, pear-scented. "And hey, how many times have I told you tics are normal."

And her shoulders relax in an instant, and she seems to become boneless almost entirely, spreading out in our arms, nestling close to you like a warm, California sea wave. Nestled, but also immediately "caught": you feel the warmth of her slightly trembling palms on your shoulder blades again, but now it is static, immovable.

And she tells you. Tells you about every thought languishing under her skull, every worry about the upcoming tryouts for the dance production. She tells you, exactly one week before the upcoming incident that will turn her life upside down a hundred and eighty degrees, while you whisper words of encouragement to her, and she gulps inquisitively into your eyes, saying nothing and at the same time saying everything in the world.

×××

Her sobs shake her body silently, and she clutches at you with trembling fingers, nearly pulling your t-shirt off your shoulders through a collar that has been stretched by time and many washings. No longer screaming, no longer howling loudly, bringing even her favorite old bulldog Pepper to her ears, but trembling like the flame of a nearly extinguished candle that reaches the hot, melted wax with a hiss. She's been crying for the beat three hours, the sun having long since rolled indifferently away over the horizon, straining the string of stars and the darkness of the sky with its hot, round side as if they were caught on it. And you keep stroking her just as gently, not even changing the diligent, soft amplitude, you crumble in a huge number of quiet words of support, modestly reaching almost the second million. She's trembling, and there's nothing you can do - such an injury can't be sealed with any of your even stupidest band-aids.

"I won't be able to dance anymore..." Her sob-weary voice is hoarse, and you're in so much pain it feels like someone is mercilessly tearing expensive velvet with their bare hands. "I'm nothing now..."

You can only choke mournfully on your unspoken words and thoughts as you continue to pet her-you'd rather die right now under her tired body than tell her that you have to move to another state this morning. She crumbles in thoughts of her own insignificance, you in the realization that there's nothing you can do to help now.

"Please leave me..." She also wheezes hotly. "I'm nothing now, I'm nobody, I can't do anything..."

And you cry for the first time in three hours, burying your wet nose against the top of her head. Hot tears flow down your cheeks, dripping onto her gray hair like mournful rain on ashes after a fire. Your two million words about her importance don't work.

"Are you sure...?" You ask her softly-quietly, and she only nods, lying lifelessly on top of you as she does.

You take a dozen promises from her that she won't do anything stupid, and then leave as she wishes. After five hours you roll the wheels of your yellow suitcase down the lane in the early morning, shuffling your feet languidly while the whole neighborhood of Highland Park is asleep (you'd be happier going to the scaffold of the French Revolution), and Billie lies sleepless in her bed, shrunken into a life-beaten lump. Her heart aches for the closed road of the future, but even more for the loss of you. She's well aware of your move, heard snippets of it from her mother's conversations. The thought that it will be better acts like a dulling but not curing painkiller - she's broken now anyway, she has no future with you. She is nothing, and she now nothing can give anything to the person for whom she was willing to sell the whole world to the devil.

"I take no offense." Said in a whisper in the emptiness of her own room, as if you'd hear it, it masks something else. "I love you so damn much." Screams her thoughts. As if you'll actually hear it.

"I love you." You think and slam the door of your mom's old sedan. Your thoughts scream parallel to each other, wanting to break all the laws of geometry and converge into one smooth, clear line. Screaming, but they can't hear.

×××

You meet exactly seven years later: she is not a broken girl, but a singer, with her voice and even a single gesture able to control almost the entire auditorium of millions of people on every continent; you are a paramedic, a little tired of life, but faithful to your chosen profession, who no longer holds a stupid homemade first aid kit, but a weighty, professional first aid bag behind your back. You meet, knowing perfectly well who's in front of you, and she even now recognizes you in seconds - no badges, no introductions. You sit down gently on your knees in front of her, spreading the ight worn medic bag out on the floor, and she can't tear her gaze away from you, raging oceans of irises in recognition. Your face is hidden behind the pale blue fabric of a medical mask, you haven't uttered a word since entering her dressing room after the show, and she doesn't care at all - she recognizes you by your grown-up, tired eyes, as if she's found a warm glow of caring in them, familiar from childhood. From your past lives.

"You..." Eilish's voice is a little husky from the concert, but it still feels pleasant, velvety. Expensive.

"Hello, Ms. O'Connell." You smile with the very corners of your lips, which is made vaguely clear by the slight squint. Billie squirms a little on the huge black couch, as if the detailed address from your lips scratches her heart like a rusty nail.

She looks at you throughout the whole process: hungrily, almost prayerfully, catching your movements, which have become a little sharper, more refined, more mechanical over the years. She tries to catch your gaze, but it's as if you are deliberately avoiding the murmuring, restless oceans. Your fingertips twitch so treacherously, though almost imperceptibly. As when you were a child, you carefully treat her wounds on your knees with antiseptic and ointment (Billie shudders at the touch of the cool, thin latex of your gloves and the even colder ointment), and then lean over to the medicine cabinet to find band-aids. Billie has words stuck deep in her song-weary windpipe, you have stuck thoughts in your head that resemble bubblegum. You lean over her lap, pulling a piece of paper off a couple of Band-Aids at once, and suddenly you're hovering.

"Y/n, I..." Billie's voice is drowned out by rustling and light thudding. You tuck the pack of Band-Aids back into the medicine cabinet and reach into the pockets of your medically bright red jacket with your hand.

"You... Do you need a 'fuck,' 'crap' or 'shit' patch?" Your voice quivers in laughter as you unfurl strips of band-aids fan-like in front of her and see the dazed, confused look in her eyes. You remember.

"There's with "I love you?" She whispers softly, and looks into your eyes ever so gently and a little fearfully, as if wanting to wrap herself in your gaze like a warm plaid.

"No, but..." You stumble quietly over the words, unzipping three ridiculous patches and gluing them from gently onto her right knee. "I can say it out loud, if that's possible." Your hands shake more visibly as you also cover her now left knee behind the strips of silly words.

Barely do the sticky strips lock onto her skin as she suddenly jumps up like a wound up spring, plopping onto the newly healed lap bravely and eagerly clinging to your lips with hers, shifting the mask so deftly that you don't even realize it before you do, only lips obediently opening for her. It feels right. You involuntarily exhale hotly into the kiss, as if you'd forgotten how to breathe at all.

"I love you." You say it almost simultaneously as she pulls away and presses gently against your forehead with hers.

Two parallel lines of thought come together against all odds. And it's the right thing to do. With her, it's definitely right.

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