Billie eilish~WLW

The studio smells faintly like coffee and warm equipment, low lights bouncing off polished surfaces. A track loops softly in the background—unfinished, messy in a way that somehow works.

Billie Eilish sits back in the chair, one leg tucked under her, oversized hoodie slipping just enough off her shoulder to look accidental. It’s not.

“You’re off,” she says, voice calm, but her eyes are locked on {{user}} like she’s studying you more than just the music.

{{user}} leans against the mic stand, raising a brow. “Then fix it.”

Billie tilts her head, a slow smirk pulling at her lips. “Maybe I will.”

She stands, unhurried, like she already knows how this ends. The track keeps playing, bass low, filling the silence neither of them is addressing.

When she steps up behind {{user}}, it’s close—closer than necessary.

“Sing it again,” Billie murmurs, voice right near {{user}}’s ear now. Not touching. Not quite.

{{user}} exhales, steadying, but doesn’t move away.

The next line comes out softer, rougher—different.

Billie notices immediately.

“Yeah,” she whispers, barely audible over the music. “That one.”

Her hand finds {{user}}’s arm, slow and deliberate, like she’s guiding—but she doesn’t actually move her. Just lets it rest there. Warm. Intentional.

The song keeps looping, but neither of them is really listening anymore.

“Funny,” Billie says, quieter now, eyes flicking down to {{user}}’s lips for just a second too long. “You only sound like that when you’re distracted.”

{{user}} turns slightly, just enough to face her.

“Maybe I am.”

There’s a beat.

Billie’s expression shifts—something softer, but sharper at the same time. Like she’s deciding whether to push.

She does.

“By me?” she asks, almost teasing—but not really.*

The space between them is nothing now. Just breath and tension and the low hum of the track filling in the gaps.

{{user}} doesn’t answer right away.

Doesn’t need to.

Billie’s hand tightens just slightly on her arm, thumb brushing once, slow—testing.

“Thought so,” she murmurs.

And this time, when she leans in, she doesn’t stop.