⋆.𐙚 ̊In Between⋆.𐙚 ̊ (Billie Eilish)
⋮ ⌗ ┆Tags: EXPLICIT CONTENT, SMUT, MDNI, fwb, switch!billie, switch!reader, makeup sex(?), small argument
⋮ ⌗ ┆Synopsis: You go to Billie’s apartment to apologize, and one kiss turns into a night of hidden intimacy. When it’s over, she proposes a secret arrangement: no labels, no public announcement, just the closeness between you.
⋮ ⌗ ┆Genre: angst,fluff and smut
Standing in her doorway, you felt like a fraud. Your hands were sweating, your heart a frantic drum against your ribs. You’d texted her, a simple ‘Can I come over?’, and she’d replied with a single, enigmatic ‘k’. No exclamation points, no emojis. Just a letter. A tombstone for whatever you were building.
Billie was curled on the far end of her huge grey sofa, a hoodie pulled up over her head, making her look smaller than she was. She didn’t look up when you entered, just kept her eyes fixed on the blank television screen. The curtains were drawn, bathing the room in a soft, grey twilight that matched the mood.
You cleared your throat, the sound swallowed by the plush carpet. “Hey.”
She finally turned her head, her face shadowed. “Hey.” Her voice was quiet, neutral. Guarded.
This was harder than you thought. “I…” you started, then stopped, your courage failing. You took a breath, trying to force the words out. “I’m sorry.”
That got her to sit up a little, pulling the hoodie back. Her eyes were wary. “For what?”
“For last week,” you managed, your own voice barely audible. “For what you said. How you said it. It was cruel and it wasn’t true.”
A long pause. She watched you, her expression unreadable. “Which part wasn’t true?”
Your heart hammered. This was it. The precipice. You could lie again, build another wall, and watch her retreat for good. Or you could jump.
“All of it,” you whispered, the confession feeling like it was being torn from your lungs. “All of it was a lie.”
Something in her face softened, just a fraction. The tension in her shoulders eased. “Okay,” she said, softer this time. She patted the empty space on the sofa next to her. An invitation.
You crossed the room on shaky legs and sat, leaving a careful foot of space between you. It felt like a canyon. “I was scared,” you admitted to your hands, twisting a loose thread on your jeans. “Am scared. People… they talk. My family, the fans… I just panicked. And I took it out on you, and that wasn’t fair.”
“I’m sorry too,” she said, her voice gentle now. “I shouldn’t have pushed. I know you have stuff to figure out. I just… I got impatient.”
“You’re allowed to be impatient,” you said, finally looking at her. The dim light caught the blue in her hair, made her pale skin seem almost luminous. “You deserve better than my cowardice.”
“I just want you, whatever that looks like,” she said, and the honesty in it was a punch to the gut.
The foot of space between you vanished. You don’t know who moved first, maybe you both did. Your hand found her knee, her fingers came up to brush a stray piece of hair from your face. The touch was electric, a current running straight through you, silencing the cacophony of fear in your head. Her thumb stroked your cheekbone, slow and deliberate. You leaned into it, a silent plea.
“Y/n,” she breathed, and your name on her lips was a question and an answer all at once.
You closed the remaining distance, pressing your lips against hers. It wasn’t gentle. It was a week’s worth of unsaid words, of loneliness and regret, all poured into a single, desperate kiss. Her hands were in your hair, pulling you closer, and you were climbing into her lap, your body responding with a need so potent it drowned out everything else. This was real. This was the truth.
Her bedroom was dark, the only light a thin sliver from the hallway. Clothes became obstacles, quickly discarded. Her skin was soft, her hands firm as they mapped your body, relearning every curve. When she finally moved over you, her weight a welcome anchor, the last of your resistance crumbled. You weren’t thinking about fans or family or what anyone would say. There was only her,the scent of her hair, the feeling of her breath against your neck, the way she whispered your name like a prayer. Her skin was cool against yours, a stark contrast to the fire building in your core. Her hands were firm as they mapped your body, relearning every curve as if for the first time, her touch leaving trails of heat in its wake.
She rolled over you, her weight a welcome anchor, her blue-black hair falling around you like a curtain. The last of your resistance, the last whisper of your fear, crumbled into dust. You weren’t thinking about fans or family or what any of them would say. There was only her. The clean, familiar scent of her hair, the feeling of her breath, warm and ragged, against your neck.
You pulled her down for another kiss, deep and hungry. Your hands slid down her back, tracing the elegant line of her spine, gripping her hips to pull her closer. She responded with a soft gasp, her tongue finding yours, the rhythm becoming more urgent, more demanding. This was the truth your lips had been too afraid to speak. This was the apology your words had failed to deliver.
“Y/n,” she breathed against your mouth, your name a ragged prayer. Her hand slipped between you, her fingers trailing lower, brushing over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. You tensed, a jolt of pure electricity arcing through you. “Is this okay?”
You could only nod, your breath hitching in your throat as her fingers found your wetness, circling your clit with a slow, deliberate pressure that had your back arching off the bed. A choked moan escaped your lips. Every coherent thought evaporated, replaced by the singular, overwhelming sensation of her touch. She knew exactly how to play your body, every nerve ending singing under her expert guidance.
She shifted, kissing a path down your body,your collarbone, the valley between your breasts, the soft skin of your stomach. Her other hand pinched a peaked nipple, rolling it between her fingers, sending another wave of pleasure crashing through you. You were completely at her mercy, and you never wanted it to end.
When her mouth replaced her fingers, you thought you would die. The soft, wet heat of her tongue against your clit was an exquisite torture. Your hands flew to her hair, your fingers tangling in the silky strands as you held her to you. She built a rhythm, slow at first, then faster, her tongue flicking and circling, her hands gripping your thighs, spreading you wider for her. The sounds you were making weren’t yours; they were the sounds of pure, unadulterated need. You could feel the pressure coiling in your stomach, tighter and tighter, a white-hot ball of pleasure waiting to explode.
“Billie, please,” you begged, your voice hoarse. “I’m so close.”
She hummed against you, the vibration sending you over the edge. The world shattered. Your orgasm ripped through you with the force of a tidal wave, leaving you gasping, your body trembling uncontrollably. She didn’t stop, drawing out your pleasure until you were a whimpering, boneless mess beneath her.
After, she moved back up your body, her movements languid. She kissed you again, and you could taste yourself on her lips,intimate, primal. A new hunger stirred within you, a desperate need to give her the same earth-shattering release.
You rolled you over, surprising her with your sudden strength. Now you were on top, your knees bracketing her hips. You looked down at her, her face flushed in the dim light, her lips swollen from your kisses, her dark eyes wide with desire. This powerful, world-famous artist was laid bare beneath you, all for you.
“Your turn,” you murmured, your voice a low purr.
You took your time, exploring her body with your hands and your mouth, paying attention to every sigh, every shiver. You learned the spots that made her gasp, the pressure that made her arch her back. When you finally slid two fingers inside her, she was so wet and ready that they sank in to the hilt. You set a slow, steady pace, curling your fingers to find that rough patch of skin inside her that made her cry out. With your thumb, you circled her clit, matching the rhythm of your hand.
Her hands were gripping your ass, pulling you down, her hips rising to meet your every thrust. Her head was thrown back, her pale throat exposed, the cords standing out as she panted your name. The sight of her, lost in pleasure, was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. You could feel her inner muscles beginning to clench around your fingers, and you knew she was close.
“Look at me,” you commanded, your voice thick with desire.
Her eyes fluttered open, hazy and unfocused. They locked onto yours as you increased your pace, pumping your fingers faster, pressing your thumb harder against her clit. Her breath hitched, her body tensed, and then she was coming, your name a long, drawn-out cry on her lips as her orgasm washed over her.
You held her through it, your movements slowing as she came down from her high. When you finally pulled your fingers away, she let out a soft, contented sigh.
You lay tangled in the sheets, the quiet now different. Softer. Sated. Billie’s head was on your chest, her fingers tracing idle patterns on your stomach. For a few minutes, it was perfect. A bubble of peace in a world you’d spent weeks building up as a battlefield.
Then the reality started to seep back in. The cold sweat of what you’d done, of what it meant. The panic you’d fought off earlier came roaring back, fueled by the intimacy of the moment. You shifted, your body suddenly feeling rigid beneath her warm weight.
“Hey,” she murmured, lifting her head. “What’s wrong?”
You had to say it. You had to build the wall back up, brick by brick, before this thing consumed you whole. “This,” you said, your voice tight. “This doesn’t make us… you know. Official.”
She stilled. Her fingers stopped tracing. “What?”
You pushed yourself up on your elbows, putting distance between you even though you were still in the same bed. “This was meant to be… an apology. But this thing that happened, Billie….It doesn’t mean we’re a couple.”
Her face was a mask of disbelief, quickly hardening into hurt. “So that’s what this was for you? An apology fuck?”
“No! Of course not,” you said, the lie tasting bitter. “But you‘re not ready. To be that person. The world isn’t ready. What would this do to you? To your career? To mine?”
“So you’d rather hide it?” she shot back, her voice rising. “You’d rather pretend we’re just friends after… after this? You think that’s not going to mess me up? That I can just go back to normal?”
“I’m trying to protect you!”
“Protecting me?” She sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest. “Protecting yourself, you mean. You’re so fucking scared of what people might think that you’re willing to throw away… this.” She gestured between you, her eyes glistening. “Don’t you dare hide behind my career. This is about you.”
She was right. Of course, she was right. The shame was a hot flush on your cheeks. “I’m not strong like you, Billie,” you whispered, the fight draining out of you. “I’m not brave.”
Her anger seemed to deflate, replaced by a weary sadness. “You think I’m brave?” she said, her voice softer. “I’m terrified every single day. But being without you is scarier.”
The silence stretched. You could feel the tears welling in your eyes. You were going to lose her. You’d ruined everything with your fear.
She paced around the room, still naked, your eyes never left her body. You wanted her more than you’d ever admit.
“Okay,” she said finally, taking a deep breath. “Okay. We can figure this out. A solution.”
“We don’t tell anyone,” she said, her gaze steady. “Not yet. Not until you’re ready. No labels, no official announcements. But we… we have each other. In private. We stop pretending we’re just friends when we’re alone. We let this be real for us, in this space. And we work on you. On you being ready. Together.”
It was a lifeline thrown into the storm of your anxiety. A secret. A space that was yours alone. It wasn’t the brave, heroic thing to do. But it was something. It was a chance.
“Really?” you asked, your voice small. “You’d do that?”
She reached out, her hand cupping your jaw, her thumb wiping away a tear you hadn’t realized had fallen. “I’d do anything for you,” she said, and this time, you believed it.