WILL : ̗̀➛ wlw ~ angst ~ fluff ~ smut (if I am comfortable with the request) ~ Billie Eilish ~ Jinx from Arcane ~ The Rookie ~ Kiara Carrera ~ JJ Maybank ~ Sturniolos ~ fantasy (be descriptive!) ~ hurt/comfort ~ horror/gore ꨄ︎
WONT : ̗̀➛ somno ~ dark romance ~ age regression ~ non-consensual ~ homophobia ~ racism ~ anything that is illegal in any way ~ P!links ꨄ︎
I honestly need Shawn Hatosy to **** ** *** **** ** **** *** ***** *** *** **** ** ** ******** ***** and **** ** *** ** **** * **** **** ** **** and hug me and cuddle me 😊
cw: fingering, eating out, situationship, semi-public sex
The music of the club was echoing through, people laughing and speaking quieted in the bathroom where you sat.
You had yourself sitting up on the bathroom sink, one leg propped up on the marble. Your sparkly pink dress bunched up around your waist, panties pulled to the side. Your makeup smudged from the earlier makeout you had with a random dude you found.
You and Billie weren’t exactly together—it was complicated. So why was she so jealous? It was confusing to you, especially when she had her head between your legs and sucking on your clit like it was her only anchor in life.
“Fuck—you bitch, don’t go so hard!”
You cursed, your voice a little slurred from your earlier drinks.
Billie only slapped your thigh, and sucked on your clit harder as her fingers curled inside of you.
“Maybe don’t climb up a guy like a tree next time.” She growled, her fingers pumping relentlessly in your cunt.
You groaned, gripping onto her hair. Your heel clicked against the marble as you bucked into her mouth, your orgasm quickly approaching.
“Go fuck yourself.”
“I’m already fucking you, it seems a bit unconventional for me to stop fucking you to fuck myself.” She sucked harder. Tongue flicking out.
Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, leaving your legs trembling and moans spilling from your lips. Billie guided you through the wave, before finally pulling away and fixing the cotton panties back where they belonged.
She stood back up, her lips instantly on yours. Claiming. Demanding. She gripped onto the back of your neck, holding you still. Once she pulled away, she growled against your lips, her voice a predatory sound.
“You’re mine. Not anyone else’s.”
You scoffed, rolling your eyes. You fixed your dress, pulling it back down over your hips, before speaking, your voice low and teasing.
“I bet he fucks better than you do.”
A sharp slap came down on your ass, and you flinched as the sudden tingle.
“We both know that no one fucks you better than I do. So go ahead, jump in his bed. You’ll be jumping right back in mine tomorrow.”
You swallowed, before pushing her away. You walked out of the bathroom, letting the music surround you again. The last thing you heard from her was her voice calling out,
“I’ll be waiting for you, sweetheart.” ⋆. 𐙚 ̊
ׂ╰┈➤ Hi here’s a little blurb bc I’m in finals season and I need to study 💔
hey my love, if you’re doing requests (no worries if not) i’ve been rewatching euphoria season 3 episode 2 like on repeat for my girl Angel, and was wondering if you’d do like a similar dynamic with stripper reader and then like rue is Billie. Does that make sense? Probably not. It doesn’t have to be smut or anything (unless you wanna write what would’ve gone down in that car 😝) , just billie helping reader get by
thanks ! <3
Hii !! I can absolutely do this! I just never watched euphoria before, so do we meet Angel in the second episode, or should I watch the first and second to understand???
synopsis: After you realize Billie wasn’t at your competition, you text her, only to find it she mixed up the dates.
w/c: 2.1k
♬ NOW PLAYING : ̗̀➛ COTTON EYE JOE by REDNEX
It was the day of competition. The lunchroom of the hosting school smelled heavy of hairspray, red lipstick stained all over, and cheer shoes clicking almost like heels on the linoleum.
It was the last one of the season before you headed to nationals. To Florida. To the National High School Spirit Championship. To every cheerleader’s dream. Your dream.
It was a big deal to you and your teammates. The final community competition, showing off your skills before you were sent down to the south. It was nerve-racking. And Billie wasn’t there.
You had waited as long as you could outside. The wind was whipping and cold, but you ignored it. Your hair pristine and perfectly slicked back in a red bow. Your traditional routine uniform on. The first performance.
And it hit 10:25. You had to go back inside for warm-ups. You bit your lip, looking around the parking lot one last time, hoping to see her matte black Dodge Challenger. Nothing.
You let out a huff, before turning around and heading inside.
Maybe she was just late. She still had time to get there. You didn’t perform until eleven. And your game day routine wasn’t until two. She probably was just stuck in traffic.
Warm-ups went like they always did. Covering each section—the opening stunt, the pyramid, the tumbling, the jumps. Then putting it all together, making sure everything was in time and perfect.
You were nervously biting your red lips when you circled at the corner of the mat, waiting to be called out. You desperately looked around in every corner—she wasn’t there. You gave a weak smile to your mother, before turning back to your team.
The routine was perfect. Your coach was ecstatic by the time the music stopped. Your wide smile was all for presentation—because you couldn’t find a reason to smile genuinely.
The routine hit. Everything went up. Nothing wobbled. Everyone stayed in the air, and it was all on time. You should have felt just as happy as your teammates. But you just couldn’t.
You tried to think happily. It was just one routine. Billie would be there for the next one.
Right?
You returned to the cafeteria, and immediately digged for your phone in your bag. You sank down onto the bench, pulling up the text messages with Billie, and typed immediately.
- Where are you? -
The chat stayed silent for a moment, before a picture popped up.
It was Billie, the camera up in the air, showing her on the ground, legs spread wide—and a poster in between them. A mess of glitter and bedazzling equipment surrounded her, and on the poster was a messy, handwritten encouraging sign. Saying ‘Go’ and then your name. Pictures of you were glued messily, still waiting to dry, and glitter was covering everything.
- Getting ready for tomorrow!!! <3 -
You almost burst into tears right there. Not out of sadness (maybe a little), but out of the sheer thoughtfulness she had.
For the wrong date.
You opened up your camera, before extending your arm, showing your sweaty face, and the uniform you had on. The host school’s cafeteria in the background. You quickly took the picture, and sent it with a text attached.
- Love the thoughtfulness, baby. But you got the wrong date. -
The chat was frozen, not chat bubbles for a moment, before a call came through. Billie. You accepted it, and a small laugh rang through you.
“Have you realized that today is the seventh and not tomorrow?” You said with a giggle, leaning against the table.
“Oh my god, baby, I’m so, so sorry—I thought—I thought today was the sixth—“
Her frantic voice only made your smile widen. She was being thoughtful, and it touched your heart. Even if she got the wrong date. You heard rustling in the background, like she was trying to leave.
“I’m leaving right now, sweetheart. God, did you already perform?” She asked frantically, and you heard the slamming of a door echo in the background.
“Yeah, my traditional routine.” You said, a little solemnly. The traditional routine was a lot more complex than the game day, and you had really wanted Billie to be able to watch that one. But she hadn’t been there. And it made your heart clench.
“Oh, baby, fuck—I’m so sorry. I’m on my way right now, okay?” She said, and you heard the starting of an engine.
“Okay, Bill-Bill. I’ll see you when you get here, okay?” You said softly, looking at the table that rested your elbows.
“Okay, baby. I promise, I’m going to make it up to you. I love you. So so much.” She said, her voice soft and felt like a warm hug.
“I love you more.”
Two hours passed. You knew the school was a little far away, but you knew it didn’t take two hours to get there. You were anxiously bouncing your leg, changed into your game day uniform. And Billie still wasn’t there.
Eventually, you were called back for warm-ups. You checked your phone one last time. No texts. You felt tears welling up, but you pushed them down.
Warm-ups went the same. Band chant. Cheer. Dance. Situational. You moved through the motions like a sharp robot. Smiling. Forcing yourself to tell your friends it was all okay—just emotional it was the last competition of senior year.
Twenty minutes later, you were standing at the corner of the mat, desperately looking for Billie. Nothing. You were about to turn away, to think that she had completely forgotten—before you heard the loud slams of feet.
Your eyebrows furrowed, before you saw her. Stumbling through the gymnasium doors. Flowers in her hand. A bouquet of hydrangeas and lilies. Carnations. And Billie, still covered in glitter and glue, desperately looking around, before spotting you.
Relief instantly flooded over both of your features. Billie had made it. Just in time. You wanted to run to her right that second. But before you could even think about it—you were called out to the mat.
You shifted your focus, but you felt Billie’s eyes on you the entire routine. You hit everything sharply. Yelled loudly. Engaged with the crowd. Smiled so widely—because it was real this time. It was so, so real.
Everything had gone amazing. Just like traditionally had. And once the cheer music cut off—you stood there for a moment, spiriting, and waving at everyone in the crowd. But the second everyone began to grab their things? You ran towards Billie.
She didn’t even hesitate. Her arms opened wide, and caught you the second you jumped in. You wrapped your arms tightly around her neck, letting out a quiet, shaky breath.
“Baby…” She whispered softly against your skin, holding you close. You felt your teammate taking your pom-poms away, but you didn’t care. In fact, you buried your fingers into Billie’s hair, pulling you closer.
She carefully walked out of the ‘aww’ing gymnasium, and walked outside. She carefully settled you down onto your feet, before she cupped your face with her free hand gently.
You did amazing, baby. I’m so proud of you.” She said, before she carefully leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips.
It felt like an explosion. She was soft. Gentle. Reassuring. You leaned into her, kissing her back with softness and eagerness.
She slowly pulled away after a moment, before lifting up the bouquet she had in her hands. A small blush flushed over her cheeks, her free hand going to the back of her neck and scratching.
“I… I got you these. I went to a florist across town. She said that the flowers had just been sent in this morning, so they should last a while…”
She took a deep breath, before she continued.
“I am so sorry, baby. I really thought today was the sixth. I was really excited to show you the poster so you’d be all embarrassed and… I just… I’m sorry.”
You smiled, carefully taking the bouquet from her hand. You smiled, before leaning up and pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of her lips.
“It’s okay. It was a mistake. It was better for you to be there for one rather than none.”
Look at you, rhyme master.” She said teasingly, wrapping her arms around your waist.
You rolled your eyes playfully, before pressing a gentle kiss to her lips again. Slow. Soft. Sweet like those Swedish candies Billie got you every Friday Night Lights at the concession stand.
After a moment, you two finally broke, and you were both smiling at each other.
“So, when’s your awards?” Billie asked softly, tucking a loose strand of hair away from your face. She brushed her fingers through your hair, before pulling you closer.
“Not until four.” You said softly, looking up at her with loving eyes.
In all truthfulness, you didn’t care what place you got. All you truly wanted was for Billie to think you did well. That you were amazing on the mat.
“Well, how about we go get that açaí bowl that I saw at one of the concessions? I know you love them.” She said softly, already beginning to guide you back inside.
You jumped on the balls of your feet, instantly nodding. You practically pulled Billie into the school again, and rushed her through the concessions.
The açaí was cold in your hands once you finally got it. Concessions were always overpriced—and considering you loved toppings and extra drizzles of honey and chocolate, it definitely added up. But Billie never complained.
You both walked into the cafeteria where your bag was sitting, and you plopped down, before Billie sat next to you. You both sat in silence, eating your açaí bowls.
Two of your friends were passing by, and they instantly began to fake make out, laughing as they did. You couldn’t help but join mid-bite, before grabbing a strawberry (a clean one—your coach was heavy on the cleanliness of your uniforms) and chucking it at them.
They only giggled, before walking away. You rolled your eyes, before turning to Billie.
“Sorry. They don’t know when to be normal.”
“I guess you don’t either.”
You gasped in faux shock, before swatting her shoulder.
“Why would you say something like that?! Especially to your own girlfriend? You must hate me.”
“You know damn well I don’t hate you.” Billie’s breath was hot and low against your ear, making your flush up. You shoved her away, only earning a chuckle from her.
“Shut up, Billie.” You grumbled, taking a bite of your açaí bowl.
Billie only chuckled, but she listened. She took a bite of her own açaí bowl, and stayed silent for once in her life.
Once you both finished your food, Billie took both of your trash and tossed it, before coming back to sit next to you. She gently pulled you against her as you silently scrolled on your phone—and just stayed like that for a while.
Rewards came quicker than expected. Every team sat in tight circles on the mat, backs pressed against backs, thighs to thighs. Everyone was squeezing hands, doing the universal tradition of holding hands before the placement they got.
Traditional was first. Varisty tumbling all female division. Yours. Your teammates instantly clasped hands, heads down and eyes squeezing.
Fourth. Crestwood.
Third. Saint Jude’s.
Second. Westlake.
Everyone in your team looked up. Eyes wide. And then—they called first.
Oakland high school.
Everyone began to scream, jumping to their feet and hugging each other. You held your best friend, jumping as you received the trophy and your coaches got the score sheets.
It could be by a point. by a tenth. It didn’t matter to your team. You got first. And that was all that mattered to you.
They continued in other divisions in traditional, before they moved onto game day. Varisty tumbling all female. You held onto each other’s hands—heads down, eyes shut.
Fourth. Westlake.
Third. Saint Jude’s.
Second. Crestwood.
Everyone looked up. Some of your teammates were crying. And then—
“First place goes to Oakland high school!”
It was like a fever dream. It was almost impossible to get first place in either division. Your team always went up against harsh competition, but now—you had climbed right up to the top.
Everything was a blur after that. Pictures were taken. Tears were shed. And then—Billie.
She was standing there, smiling as she held the your bag over her shoulder. Your shoes already in her hands, ready to change them out.
She gently wrapped you in a hug, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “I knew you could do it, baby. I’m so proud of you.”
She smiled down at you—before cupping your cheek, and pressing a soft kiss to your lips. And everything faded away. Everything narrowed to this one moment. To Billie.
And those trophies suddenly meant nothing. ⋆. 𐙚 ̊
ׂ╰┈➤ if you get the song you get it (I’m sorry) also I was half asleep writing this I’m sorry if it’s ass
