#ovrhaetedd

happy easter!!

a/n: billie and melody are married and have two kids, maisie who is five, and malachai who is nine

pairings: billie eilish x wife!oc — melody warnings: kissing, thats all. word count: 2.2k

easter morning

the house is quiet in that soft, early way that only exists before kids wake up.

sunlight is just starting to slip through the curtains, pale and warm, stretching across the kitchen tiles and out toward the back patio. the air still holds that slight chill from the night, but it’s already beginning to warm.

melody is barefoot, moving quietly.

she’s been up for a while, long enough to set out baskets on the bench, to unwrap chocolates, to sort eggs into little piles so she can spread them out evenly. there’s a system in her head, neat and organised, a few easy ones for maisie, a few trickier ones for malachai, a couple “accidentally obvious” ones so no one feels left out.

she crouches near the back door, placing a chocolate egg just beside the frame, visible, but not too visible.

behind her, there’s a soft creak of the floor.

she doesn’t turn.

“go back to bed,” she murmurs quietly, already knowing, as she places some more eggs on the counters of the outdoor kitchen.

warm arms wrap around her waist.

billie.

her chin drops onto mel’s shoulder, hair messy, voice still thick with sleep. “no,” she mumbles against her skin, pressing a slow kiss just below her ear. “you’re not there.”

melody exhales, but there’s a smile tugging at her mouth. “billie.”

“you’re warm,” billie continues softly, like she’s half-dreaming, nuzzling into her neck. “and you smell good.”

“i smell like chocolate and coffee.”

“exactly,” billie says, like that proves her point.

another kiss, slower this time.

mel tries to stay focused. she reaches forward, placing another egg near the shoe rack, but billie tightens her hold slightly, swaying them both just a little.

“you’re distracting me.”

“that’s the point.”

melody turns her head slightly, just enough to give her a look. “we have two children who are going to wake up in, like, an hour.”

billie hums. “then we have an hour.”

her lips brush along mel’s neck again, softer now, lingering.

mel closes her eyes for a second, just a second, but then she gently nudges billie’s arm. “go hide eggs instead of harassing me.”

billie lifts her head, considering that.

“…or i could keep doing this.”

“billie.”

“fine,” she sighs dramatically, but she doesn’t let go straight away. she presses one last kiss to melody’s cheek before finally stepping back.

melody watches her go for a second before turning back to her task.

the grass is slightly damp, the trampoline darkened from the morning moisture, the swing hanging still.

mel goes out first, basket in hand, already mentally mapping everything out.

billie follows behind her and immediately drops an egg right in the middle of the yard.

mel pauses.

she looks at it.

she doesn’t say anything.

she just keeps walking.

a minute later, when billie turns away to “strategically” place another egg directly on top of a table, mel quietly circles back, picks up the grass egg, and moves it slightly off to the side next to a tree, still easy, but at least somewhat hidden.

billie, completely unaware, is now crouching near the trampoline, placing three eggs in a neat little cluster.

melody stops again.

“…billie.”

“what?” billie glances up.

“…you can’t just put them all in one spot.”

“it’s efficient.”

“it’s obvious.”

billie considers that, then shrugs. “they’ll like it.”

mel opens her mouth… then closes it again.

she just walks over later and spreads them out herself.

they move through the yard like that, mel planning, adjusting, spacing things out and billie placing eggs in the most visible, questionable spots imaginable.

“pool?” billie suggests at one point, holding up an egg.

mel immediately shakes her head. “no.”

“why?”

“because one of them will try to reach for it and fall in.”

billie pauses.

“…oh.”

a beat.

“…yeah, that’s— yeah. that’s bad.”

melody gives her a look.

billie slowly lowers the egg. “not the pool.”

“not the pool.”

— by the time they’re done, the yard is dotted with colour.

eggs near the bushes, tucked by the trees, resting on the swing seat, hidden just enough in the grass. a couple near the outdoor kitchen. a few easier ones along the patio for maisie.

it’s soft, thoughtful, perfect.

mel steps back, scanning everything.

billie comes up behind her again, arms slipping around her waist like it’s instinct at this point.

“you did all of that,” billie says quietly.

“you helped.”

billie presses a kiss to her temple. “…i supervised.”

melody leans back into her slightly.

“come on,” she says after a moment. “we should wake them up.”

they wake malachai up first.

the second mel says, “easter morning,” he’s sitting up, eyes wide, already halfway out of bed.

“wait— really?”

billie leans against the doorframe, smiling. “really.”

he’s gone in seconds, scrambling out of bed, already talking a mile a minute.

maisie… is different.

she blinks slowly, still wrapped in her blankets, hair messy and eyes half-lidded.

“maisie,” mel says gently, sitting on the edge of her bed.

maisie immediately reaches for her, small arms wrapping around her waist, burying her face into her.

“hi, baby,” mel murmurs, smoothing her hair.

“stay,” maisie mumbles sleepily.

“we will,” mel promises softly. “but do you know what today is?”

maisie shakes her head against her.

“easter,” billie says from the doorway.

maisie peeks up slightly.

“…bunny?”

billie grins. “yeah. bunny.”

that’s enough.

maisie sits up a little, still clinging to melody, but more awake now.

malachai appears in the doorway, already dressed, already impatient. “are we going now?”

“relax,” billie laughs.

mel exchanges a quick look with billie.

“…let’s go see if he came,” she says.

maisie doesn’t let go of her hand as they walk.

the baskets are waiting just by the back door.

chocolate, eggs, little surprises.

maisie gasps softly, eyes lighting up instantly, her grip tightening around mel’s fingers.

malachai’s already crouched down, inspecting everything like a detective.

“he came,” maisie whispers.

billie glances at mel, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“looks like it.”

malachai hesitates for a second, like he’s about to say something… something too logical, too close to figuring it out.

but mel gently nudges his shoulder. “should we check outside?”

that redirects him instantly.

“yeah.”

maisie tugs on mel’s hand. “come.”

billie opens the back door, sunlight spilling in.

“alright,” she says, clapping her hands once. “egg hunt.”

the quiet, sleepy morning turns into movement, small feet on concrete, excited voices, the rush of energy that fills the whole house and spills out into the yard.

malachai is first.

he bolts straight onto the patio, scanning everything with sharp, focused eyes, already in “mission mode.” he barely makes it two steps before he spots one.

“there!” he calls, darting forward and snatching up an egg from beside the outdoor kitchen billie had placed.

billie winces slightly behind him.

“…that was fast.”

mel doesn’t even look at her. “i told you.”

maisie, meanwhile, lingers at the doorway.

she stays half-hidden behind mel’s leg, clutching onto her hand, eyes wide as she takes everything in, the grass, the colours, the eggs scattered everywhere.

“it’s okay,” mel murmurs gently, squeezing her hand. “we’ll go together.”

maisie nods, small and shy, and lets herself be led out.

they step onto the patio slowly, mel crouching slightly so she’s closer to her. “can you see one?” she asks softly.

maisie looks around, unsure.

malachai, already halfway across the yard, calls out, “there’s heaps! they’re everywhere!”

mel shoots him a look. “let maisie find her own, yeah?”

he pauses, holding an egg in each hand, then nods. “sorry.”

maisie spots one near the edge of the patio.

it’s not very hidden, just slightly tucked beside a chair, but to her, it might as well be buried treasure.

she lets go of mel’s hand and walks toward it, slow but determined.

“there,” she whispers, pointing like she needs to confirm it’s real.

“go get it,” melody encourages.

maisie crouches, picks it up carefully, and turns back with the smallest, proudest smile.

“i got one.”

mel’s whole face softens. “you did.”

billie leans against the doorframe, watching them, something warm and quiet in her expression.

across the yard, malachai is… well… thriving.

he moves quickly checking behind the trees, under the trampoline, along the swing set. he spots patterns, remembers where he’s already looked, and collects eggs at an alarming rate.

“another one!”

“and another— wait— there’s two here—”

billie watches him, impressed. “…he’s kind of good at this.”

melody hums. “he’s too good at this.”

maisie finds a second egg.

then a third.

but every time she looks up, malachai has more.

her steps slow.

her grip tightens around the little basket melody gave her.

by the time malachai calls out, “i’ve got ten!” something in her expression shifts.

she looks down at her own basket.

three.

her lip wobbles, just slightly.

mel notices immediately.

she crouches beside her again, gentle and calm. “hey… what’s wrong?”

maisie shakes her head, but her eyes are already glassy. “he’s getting all of them.”

mel glances over at malachai, who’s currently inspecting the bushes with intense focus.

then she looks back at maisie.

“he’s just fast,” she says softly. “but that doesn’t mean there aren’t more for you.”

maisie doesn’t look convinced.

so mel leans in a little, lowering her voice like it’s a secret. “do you want help finding some really good ones?”

maisie nods instantly.

“okay,” melody smiles. “come with me.”

she takes her hand again, guiding her toward the trees.

not the obvious spots.

the better ones.

billie, meanwhile, has wandered further out into the yard.

she crouches near the trampoline, pretending to “check” a spot, when really she’s just moving an egg slightly more into the open.

“subtle,” mel calls from across the yard without even looking.

billie grins. “i’m helping.”

“you’re cheating.”

“i’m balancing the game.”

near the swing, mel points lightly. “what about there?”

maisie follows her gaze.

there’s an egg tucked just behind the swing seat, hidden enough that it feels special, but not impossible.

maisie gasps softly and runs over, grabbing it quickly.

“i found it!”

“you did,” mel says, brushing her hair back gently.

they move like that for a while, mel guiding just enough, maisie growing more confident with each find.

her basket slowly fills.

her smile comes back.

at some point, billie ends up near mel again.

she slips an arm around her waist like it’s second nature, pulling her in slightly as she watches the kids.

“you’re good at this,” billie murmurs.

mel leans into her just a little. “at fixing your hiding?”

billie smiles against her shoulder. “at everything.”

mel huffs softly, but she doesn’t move away.

billie presses a quick kiss to her cheek.

then another, just slightly closer to her lips.

mel turns her head—

and kisses her properly, soft and easy, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“ew!”

malachai’s voice cuts across the yard instantly.

billie pulls back just enough to look over.

he’s standing there with his basket, staring at them in disgust.

he reaches over and taps maisie. “look.”

maisie turns, sees them, and immediately copies him.

“ew,” she says, even though she doesn’t fully get it.

billie raises an eyebrow. “oh, you think that’s funny?”

malachai grins.

big mistake.

billie lets go of melody and lunges.

“run,” malachai yells, already backing up.

maisie squeals, trying to follow, but she’s too slow.

billie catches them both within seconds.

“nope— got you—”

she scoops maisie up easily with one arm while grabbing malachai with the other, dragging them both toward the couch inside through the open door.

“billie—” mel calls after them, laughing.

too late.

the second they hit the couch, it’s chaos.

tickling, squealing, laughter filling the whole room.

“stop— stop—!” malachai tries to twist away, laughing too hard to actually escape.

maisie is curled into herself, giggling uncontrollably.

“no ‘ew’ in my house,” billie says dramatically, still tickling them.

mel leans against the doorway, arms crossed loosely, just watching.

her smile is soft. full.

for a moment, she doesn’t say anything.

she just takes it in, the noise, the warmth, the way they all fit together.

then she finally steps in. “alright, alright— let them breathe.”

billie slows, but not before pressing a quick kiss to each of their heads.

“truce?” she offers.

malachai nods quickly.

maisie just clings to her, still giggling.

they head back outside after that.

the hunt continues, slower now.

softer.

malachai starts pointing out easier ones for maisie, trying to make up for earlier.

“check over there,” he says, nodding toward the grass.

maisie runs over and finds one almost immediately.

“i got it!”

“i saw it first,” he teases lightly.

“no you didn’t,” she insists.

mel watches them, something warm settling in her chest.

billie slips her hand into hers.

“hey,” she murmurs.

mel glances at her.

billie just smiles. “you did good.”

mel squeezes her hand gently.

“so did you.”

billie pauses.

“…even with the bad hiding?”

mel smiles. “especially with the bad hiding.”

a/n: easter was yesterday for me but oh well

but i have you

a/n: dont ask why i made it close to christmas, i just felt like it.

pairings: billie eilish x fem!oc — elara warnings: elara has autism, overwhelmed, selective mutism, thats all i believe. word count: 1.4k

december 23rd 2023

the house was quiet, but not quiet enough.

elara could feel everything.

the fabric of her shirt against her skin was wrong. too tight, too scratchy, like it was pressing into her from every direction. the seam at her shoulder felt like it was digging in. the waistband of her shorts sat unevenly, and she couldn’t fix it no matter how many times she tugged at it.

her hair brushed the back of her neck.

she froze.

it shouldn’t matter. it never mattered this much. but now it did, now it felt like pins, like something crawling, like she needed it off, needed everything off, needed—

her breathing stuttered. too fast.

faint christmas music played. lights blinked. the smell of something sweet, cookies, maybe, lingered in the air.

too much.

her chest tightened. she pressed her lips together hard, biting down to stop them from trembling. 

don’t cry. don’t cry. don’t cry.

she turned, almost stumbling as she made her way down the stairs to the basement.

safe. billie was safe.

she just needed billie.

the studio door opened too fast, a soft thud against the wall.

inside, billie sat at her desk, headphones on, mic set up, mid-take.

“elara, what did i say about comin’ in in the middle of a—”

she spun in her chair.

stopped.

everything about her changed in a second.

the headphones came off immediately, dropping around her neck.

“—baby… what’s wrong?”

elara just stood there.

frozen.

her hands hovered near her sides like she didn’t know what to do with them. like if they touched her side then she’d feel that too. her chest rose too fast, uneven, and her eyes were glassy, wide, already spilling over.

she tried to speak.

nothing came out.

her lip trembled harder and then she broke.

a quiet, choking sob slipped out as tears spilled down her cheeks, and she just stood there, like she couldn’t even move toward her.

billie was up instantly.

“hey— hey, it’s okay, c’mere,” she said softly, already closing the distance.

she didn’t rush too fast, she never did. she slowed just before reaching her, hands hovering slightly.

“can i touch you?”

elara nodded, quick, desperate.

that was all billie needed.

her arms wrapped around her gently but securely, pulling her in, one hand coming up to cradle the back of her head, the other rubbing slow circles into her back.

“i got you… i got you,” she murmured, voice low and steady.

elara clung to her.

her hands fisted in billie’s hoodie, pressing her face into her chest as her body shook with quiet sobs. the fabric was softer than hers. safer. billie was warm, grounding, real.

billie shifted slightly, guiding them both down to sit on the small couch in the corner of the studio, never letting go.

“it’s too much?” she asked gently.

elara nodded against her, eyes squeezed shut.

billie glanced down at her, then carefully reached up, brushing the hair away from the back of her neck.

“is it your clothes?”

another nod. smaller this time.

“okay… okay,” billie whispered. “we’ll fix it.”

she kept one arm around her while the other adjusted the collar of elara’s shirt slightly, tugging it away from her skin just enough.

“better? a little?”

elara hesitated, then gave a tiny nod.

“alright… good. you’re doing so good, baby.”

her voice stayed soft, predictable.

she pressed a gentle kiss to the top of elara’s head.

“just breathe with me, yeah?”

billie exaggerated her own breathing slightly, slow inhale, slower exhale.

elara’s breaths were shaky at first, uneven and catching, but she tried to follow. in. out. in—

a hiccup.

billie’s hand moved up and down her back in a steady pattern.

“in… and out… you’re safe. it’s just a lot right now, but it’s gonna pass. i’ve got you.”

elara’s grip tightened for a moment, then slowly, slowly, started to loosen.

the sobs quieted into soft sniffles.

the room felt less sharp. less loud.

billie didn’t stop touching her, didn’t stop talking.

“wanna stay down here for a bit?” she asked. “it’s quieter. no lights blinking, no music.”

elara nodded again, more certain this time.

“yeah? okay. we’ll stay right here.”

silence settled between them, but it wasn’t empty. it was safe.

a few minutes passed before elara shifted slightly, pulling back just enough to look at her.

her eyes were red, lashes clumped with mascara, freckles more visible against her flushed skin.

she hesitated, then slowly lifted one hand, signing.

i hate this.

billie’s expression softened instantly.

“hey…” she murmured, gently taking her hand and lowering it, intertwining their fingers. “no. we’re not doing that.”

elara looked away, jaw tightening.

billie tilted her head, trying to catch her gaze.

“you didn’t do anything wrong,” she said quietly. “your brain just got overwhelmed. that’s not something to hate.”

elara shook her head slightly, frustrated tears threatening again.

billie squeezed her hand.

“i mean it,” she said, a little firmer now, but still gentle. “you came to me. you let me help. that’s huge, el.”

that made her pause.

billie brushed her thumb across her knuckles.

“i love you,” she added softly. “all of you. even the parts that feel hard.”

elara’s eyes flickered back to hers.

for a second, she just looked at her.

then, slowly, she leaned forward again, resting her forehead against billie’s.

billie smiled faintly, closing the small gap and pressing a soft kiss to her lips, gentle, grounding, nothing overwhelming.

when they pulled back, she rested her forehead against hers again.

“better?” she whispered.

a small nod.

billie exhaled softly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

“good,” she murmured. “we’ll just stay here as long as you need, yeah? no rush.”

billie waited until elara’s breathing had evened out before moving.

“think we can go upstairs?” she asked softly.

elara hesitated, then gave a small nod.

“okay,” billie murmured. “slow.”

she stood first, keeping one hand in elara’s, the other steady at her waist as she helped her up. they moved carefully, step by step, billie staying close, like she was anchoring her the whole way up.

the house was still glowing with christmas lights, but billie kept her voice low.

“straight to the closet, yeah? no stopping.”

another nod.

once inside their room, billie guided her into the closet, shutting the door most of the way to dim everything. it was quieter here. softer.

“sit for me,” she said gently.

elara sat on the floor without a word, shoulders still slightly tense.

billie moved quickly but calmly, grabbing a pair of her softest sweats and an oversized hoodie, worn in, warm, familiar.

“let’s get you out of that,” she said softly.

she helped elara change, careful with every movement, making sure nothing dragged or caught on her skin. once she was in billie’s clothes, she paused.

“better?”

elara gave a small nod.

“yeah… i thought so.”

billie stepped behind her, gently gathering her hair, fingers light as she lifted it away from her neck. she twisted it into a loose, soft bun, nothing tight, nothing pulling.

“there,” she murmured. “no more hair bothering you.”

then she reached for the compression socks, holding them out.

elara took them, pulling them on slowly.

billie watched her for a second, then offered her hand again.

“couch?”

a quiet nod.

they made their way back out, billie dimming a couple of the brighter lights as they passed. she grabbed a blanket from the arm of the couch and pulled elara down with her, settling in.

elara curled into her side almost immediately, head resting on billie’s chest, one hand lightly gripping her hoodie.

billie wrapped an arm around her, pulling the blanket up over both of them, her other hand coming up to gently play with the fabric near elara’s shoulder, soft, repetitive, grounding.

she grabbed the remote and flicked on home alone, keeping the volume low.

the familiar opening music filled the room, quiet and gentle.

billie pressed a soft kiss to the top of elara’s head.

“just this,” she whispered. “nothing else. you’re okay.”

elara shifted slightly, settling closer.

and this time—

everything stayed calm. 

a/n: elara is literally me but i dont have autism. well i mean i might but i guess we will never know

a billie eilish fanfiction — part three

previous. next.

pairings: billie eilish x fem!oc — juliette. warnings: mentions of violence, injury, thats all i believe. word count: idk its just long.

juliettes pov

we don’t go back to the old plan. billie draws in the dirt instead, quick, precise lines, marking the layout of the area like she’s already memorized it.

“these two don’t stick to open ground,” she says quietly. “elias is aggressive. vera stays back. he protects her.”

i watch the lines form under the stick she’s holding.

“and?” i ask, voice low.

her eyes flick up to me.

“we don’t fight them head-on.”

a pause.

then she adds, “we split them.”

i frown slightly. “how?”

billie taps a point in the dirt. “you draw vera out. not into a fight, just to get her moving. away from elias.”

my stomach tightens a little.

“and you?” i ask.

“i take elias, then i come to you, and take vera too.”

the plan is simple and efficient. but it’s dangerous. so is everything else in the games though, so i can’t let it stop me. but my thoughts might.

i hesitate. “what if—”

“you don’t engage unless you have to,” she cuts in, firm but not unkind. “you run. you use the terrain. you keep her moving.”

her gaze holds mine.

“you don’t have to be like them to survive.”

i nod slowly, not fully convinced, but listening.

after a moment, i whisper, “and if i can’t?”

billie doesn’t hesitate this time.

“then you get out.”

a beat.

“and i’ll handle it.”

there’s no softness in her voice when she says it, but there’s certainty. and somehow that feels safer than anything else in the arena.

for now.

— we move before the sun gets too high. billie leads the way, silent as ever, slipping through the trees like she belongs to them. i follow a few steps behind, keeping my breathing controlled.

a distraction. that’s the plan. not a fight. a split.

we don’t speak. we don’t need to. we find them near a clearing. elias first. loud. confident. he’s talking to vera, pacing slightly, like he’s trying to keep himself sharp. they’re close. too close. perfect. 

billie gives me a small, almost imperceptible nod.

go.

my heart jumps. i pick up a stone, step forward just enough, then throw it. it hits a branch with a sharp crack. both of them turn instantly.

elias narrows his eyes. “what was that?”

vera looks nervous. “someone’s there.”

good.

i take a slow step back. another. just enough for her to see me. vera’s eyes lock onto mine. she starts moving.

“wait—!” elias calls, but she’s already stepping toward me.

i turn and run. branches whip past me as i push through the trees, forcing my breathing to stay steady.

don’t stop. just enough. just enough to keep her following.

behind me, i hear her footsteps. faster now.

“stop!” she calls.

i don’t answer. i glance back once. she’s chasing me. good. the forest narrows slightly ahead, thicker trees, tighter space. i slow just a little. not enough to seem obvious. just enough to let her close the gap.

then—

far behind us i hear noises, a clash, a harp shout. billie and elias. i swallow hard.

focus. stay on your part. stay alive.

vera’s closer now. too close. my chest tightens. i don’t turn around. not yet.

just a little more.

and then—

i step sharply to the side, slipping behind a tree, forcing her to adjust her path. she stumbles slightly as she tries to follow. that’s my opening. i turn. facing her. knife still in her hand. her breathing is uneven now. so is mine. we stare at each other. somewhere deeper in the forest another sound echoes. a cannon. vera flinches. so do i. but she reacts first. 

her expression changes, twisting into something sharper, something knowing.

“…elias,” she breathes.

her eyes snap back to mine and this time she understands.

“you—” her voice breaks, then hardens. “you were the distraction.”

my chest tightens. “i—”

i don’t get to finish. she lunges. fast. faster than before. her knife slices toward me and i barely dodge, stumbling back as it cuts through the air where i was standing. this isn’t hesitation anymore. this is survival. she comes again. and this time i move. i block her arm, barely, my grip clumsy but desperate. the force of it sends pain shooting through my shoulder and i gasp, nearly losing my footing. she pushes harder. stronger than i expected. angrier.

“you killed him!” she cries.

“i didn’t—” i choke, struggling against her. “i didn’t—”

but it doesn’t matter, because she’s not listening. her knife slips free. she swings her fist instead. and something in me snaps.

i don’t think, i don’t hesitate, i just react.

i shove her hard, harder than before, and as she stumbles forward, my hand moves, the knife… it’s there and then it isn't. everything stops. vera’s body goes still. too still. her eyes widen, breath catching like she doesn’t understand what just happened. like i don’t. my hand is still outstretched.

i drop the knife. it hits the ground with a dull sound that feels too loud in the silence.

“no—” i whisper.

she collapses and i just stand there. staring. my chest rises and falls too fast, my hands shaking, my mind trying and failing to catch up. i didn’t mean to.

i didn’t— i didn’t want to—

“juliette.”

the voice cuts through everything, sharp, urgent, familiar. i don’t move.

“juliette, c’mon— i got him, we need to—”

she stops. i can feel it. the moment she sees what i’m staring at. what i’ve done.

silence.

then—

“it’s okay.”

her voice is different now, softer, careful. i shake my head immediately, stepping back like the ground itself is wrong.

“no— no, i didn’t—” my voice breaks. “i didn’t mean to— i didn’t want to— she just— she came at me—”

my breathing turns uneven, sharp, my chest tightening like i can’t get enough air.

“i didn’t want to,” i repeat, quieter now, like if i say it enough it’ll undo it.

it won’t.

it won’t.

she steps closer, slowly, like i might run or break.

“hey,” she says, low and steady. “hey, look at me.”

i can’t. i don’t want to, but her voice, it pulls. my eyes lift, barely meeting hers. she’s not looking at vera. she’s looking at me. only me.

“you didn’t have a choice,” she says.

i shake my head again. “i did— i could’ve—”

“no.” firmer now. “you didn’t.”

my hands are still shaking.

“i froze before,” i whisper. “i didn’t this time and now— now she’s—”

my voice disappears. billie steps closer. close enough that i can feel her presence again. grounding and real.

“you survived,” she says quietly.

that word… it doesn’t feel right. not like this.

“i don’t—” i swallow hard. “i don’t want to be like this.”

something flickers in her expression. not pity, something else, understanding.

“you’re not,” she says.

a beat.

“you hesitated. that’s not what they do.”

her eyes flick briefly, just for a second, toward vera, then back to me.

“but you finished it,” she adds. “because you had to.”

i feel something crack in my chest, tears burn at the edges of my eyes but don’t fall.

“i didn’t want to,” i whisper again.

“i know.”

and she does. that’s the worst part. she knows exactly what this means. for a moment, neither of us move. then gently her hand wraps around my wrist, steady. not forcing, just… there.

“c’mon,” she says softly. “we need to go.”

i don’t move at first. then slowly i nod and let her pull me away. we leave vera behind. but i know this won’t stay behind, not really. because something changed in me and i don’t know if i can ever go back.

—

we don’t stop moving for a while, even after it’s quiet again, even after the forest feels empty. billie keeps us going, quick, efficient, like nothing happened. i follow. i don’t say anything. i don’t look back.

by the time the sun starts to set, we finally stop in a small clearing. hidden enough, safe enough. billie starts a fire. i just sit. a few feet away, knees pulled in slightly, staring at nothing. my hands are clean now. but they don’t feel like it. the fire crackles softly between us. she found food again. of course she did. she hands some to me. i take it. but i don’t eat, not really, just small bites, enough to look like i am.

i haven’t spoken since this morning, i can feel it, the silence stretching too long. too heavy. but i don’t know what to say.

because every time i try all i see is her.

vera.

“you’re going to make yourself weaker if you don’t eat.”

her voice breaks through the quiet.

i blink slightly, eyes shifting toward her. she’s watching me, not intensely, not like before, just watching.

“i am eating,” i mumble.

barely.

she doesn’t argue, doesn’t push, just lets the silence sit for a moment longer.

then—

“you don’t have to kill again.”

the words are quiet, careful. my head lifts slightly.

“what?” my voice comes out rough. small.

her gaze holds mine.

“i’ll handle it,” she says simply.

a beat.

“i’ll protect you.”

something in my chest tightens, not fear, not exactly, something else.

“you can’t promise that,” i whisper.

because she can’t. no one can. not here. but she doesn’t look away.

“i can try,” she says.

and somehow that feels more real, more honest. i shake my head slightly, staring down at my hands again.

“i killed her,” i say quietly.

the words feel heavier out loud, like saying them makes it real.

“you survived,” she corrects gently.

“i didn’t want to,” i add.

“i know.”

her voice doesn’t change, doesn’t harden, it stays steady.

the fire flickers between us. for a moment, neither of us speak.

then—

“she would’ve killed you,” billie says softly.

i don’t respond because i know that. i felt it, i saw it. but knowing doesn’t make it easier to carry.

i swallow hard. “i don’t want to turn into… that.”

into someone who doesn’t hesitate, into someone who doesn’t feel.

her eyes soften again, just slightly.

“you won’t.”

i glance up at her.

“how do you know?”

a pause.

then—

“because it’s already tearing you apart.”

that lands hard, but not in a bad way. in a true way

the fire crackles, the forest hums quietly around us, and for the first time since this morning i breathe a little easier.

billie shifts slightly closer, her presence is warm in the cold night air.

“i’ve got you,” she says quietly.

and this time i don’t argue, i just nod. small, once, almost nothing, but it’s enough.

that night, when we climb into the trees she stays closer, closer than before, not touching but near enough that i can hear her breathing if i focus.

and somehow for the first time since the games started i fall asleep without feeling completely alone.

a billie eilish fanfiction — masterlist

pairings: billie eilish x fem!oc — juliette. warnings: mentions of violence, injury, kissing, thats all i believe.

part 1. part 2. part 3. part 4.

a billie eilish fanfiction — part two

previous. next.

pairings: billie eilish x fem!oc — juliette. warnings: mentions of violence, injury, thats all i believe. word count: idk its just long.

juliettes pov

the next morning, i went off to find more food, berries maybe. i’d been walking a while, so i sat down to take a break. 

i shouldn’t have stopped moving.

that’s the first thing i think when i hear the twig snap behind me. too close. my whole body locks up. for a second, i just stand there, the forest suddenly too quiet, like it’s holding its breath.

then i turn. slowly.

a boy.

district 7, i think. i don’t know his name. doesn’t matter. what matters is the knife in his hand and the way his eyes lock onto mine like i’ve already lost.

“don’t run,” he says. his voice shakes a little. not as confident as he’s trying to sound. but his grip on the knife is tight.

i don’t answer. my heart is pounding so hard it hurts. i could run. but he’s already too close for that to be safe. i glance at his hands. then the ground. then back to him.

think. survive.

“drop it,” he says, stepping closer. “you don’t have to die.”

i almost laugh.

almost.

because that’s exactly what everyone says right before someone does die.

my fingers tighten around my own knife. i should strike first. i know that.

the moment he shifts his weight—

that’s when i do it.

but my body doesn’t move the way it’s supposed to. my thoughts are too loud. too fast.

too… scared.

he takes another step. closer now. close enough. my breathing gets shallow.

“do it,” he says, quieter now. “or i will.”

i see it. the moment. his arm tenses. that split second where i should move. where i should end it before it starts. but i don’t. i freeze. and that’s all it takes.

he lunges.

everything happens at once. i stumble back, barely dodging him as the knife slices through the air where i was standing. my foot catches on a root and i fall hard onto the ground, the impact knocking the air out of my lungs.

pain flashes through my side.

he’s on me instantly. i try to raise my knife, but his weight pins me down, his hand grabbing my wrist, forcing it away.

“come on,” he grits, struggling. “fight back!”

i can’t. 

my mind is screaming at me to move, to fight, to survive, but my body is stuck.

this is what they meant. this is how people die. not because they’re weak. because they hesitate.

his knife comes down. i flinch, squeezing my eyes shut.

and then—

i twist. not perfectly, not like a fighter, but enough. the blade scrapes past my shoulder instead of my chest, tearing fabric, burning hot against my skin.

i gasp, pain sharp and immediate.

adrenaline hits me all at once. this time, my body moves. i shove him hard, using every bit of strength i have. he stumbles. just enough. i scramble back to my feet, clutching my shoulder, breathing uneven. he looks just as shaken. just as surprised.

i should run. this is my chance.

run.

but instead, i meet his eyes. and i see it. fear. not just in me. in him too. he hesitates. just like i did.

and for a moment—

a terrible, fragile moment—

we’re just two scared kids in a forest that wants us dead.

“i—i don’t want to—” he starts.

but his grip tightens again. so does mine. i raise my knife. my hand shakes. 

i can do this. i have to do this.

but i don’t. my body won’t let me. i see his face. the fear. the same fear i feel. and i can’t—

i can’t—

the moment stretches too long. too slow.

then—

he steps back. just one step. and that’s enough. i don’t wait. i turn and run. fast. branches slap against my arms, roots trip at my feet, but i don’t stop. i don’t look back. 

because if i do—

i might regret it.

or worse—

i might go back. and that’s not something i can survive.

i follow the stream down. down the way i was headed before the encounter. i walk for a long time, i don’t take another break. i can’t take another break. i can’t risk… that. again. 

after a while the forest quietens.

i thought i was safe. i shouldn’t have thought that. i was still following the stream, careful to step only on rocks or soft dirt, listening to every bird, every rustle, every snap of a twig. my pack felt heavier than usual, but that was better than carrying nothing.

and then—

a sound. too deliberate to be an animal. footsteps. crunching leaves. slow, careful, but deliberate. 

i freeze. heart pounding so hard it’s almost painful, i press myself flat against the ground behind a bush. my knife digs into my palm. fingers tighten. the footsteps get closer. i peek slightly, and i see him, a boy from district 4. not much bigger than me, but fast, sharp eyes, and a look like he’s thinking two moves ahead. and he’s looking right where i am. i can’t move. can’t breathe too loudly. one wrong step and i’m gone. i swallow, slowly, quietly.

and then, out of nowhere, a shadow appears at the edge of the clearing. she steps lightly, like she belongs in the forest, every motion precise, calculated.

billie.

she’s holding a dagger she’s clearly used before, and her eyes are locked on the boy. not me. not the stream. him.

and then—

she moves. fast, swift, clean. he doesn’t even have time to react. one step, a shove, a stab. he collapses. silence, almost immediate, except for his harsh breath. then nothing.

i blink.

i don’t think i’ve ever seen someone kill so… efficiently. and yet… terrifying. beautiful in a wrong, horrible way. 

her gaze snaps up and lands on me. this time, it’s not just interest. not just curiosity. it’s recognition. recognition that i exist. that i’m still here. alive. i want to run. i should run. but something holds me. my legs, my chest… maybe it’s just shock.

she doesn’t move toward me. not yet. just watches, still tense, still calculating.

then—

her eyes shift down to my shoulder. i don’t realize i’m bleeding until that moment. the fabric is torn where the blade grazed me earlier, dark red spreading slowly, staining the edge of my shirt. my breathing stutters as i instinctively try to adjust, but it only makes it worse.

her gaze lingers there, sharp and assessing. like she’s already figured out how badly i’m hurt. but she doesn’t say anything. doesn’t move. doesn’t attack. just watches. then, without a word, she disappears into the trees, leaving me staring at the spot where the boy once was.

i exhale. slowly. relief and fear mixing together, cold and sharp. but i know this. she saw me. she knows i exist.

and now—

she knows i’m injured.

— later, night falls.

i’ve found another tree, thick and sturdy. i climb up slowly, trying to ignore the memory of what i saw earlier. my hands are shaking slightly as i tuck my knife against my chest.

my shoulder aches. throbs, actually. i press my hand over it, wincing slightly as i pull the fabric aside just enough to check it. it’s not deep. not fatal. but it’s enough to slow me down. and that’s dangerous.

then… a faint sound. footsteps, but softer. not careless. not loud. i freeze. a figure emerges into the moonlight, and my breath catches.

billie.

i don’t move. i don’t call out. she stops at the base of my tree, tilting her head, studying me. for the first time, there’s… a small smirk.  but her eyes flick briefly, just once, to my shoulder again. like she remembered.

“you’re not afraid of me,” she says. quiet. almost a statement, not a question.

i blink. heart still hammering. “i should be,” i whisper, almost to myself.

she laughs. soft, dark. “maybe. but you’re not.”

something shifts in the air. not trust. not friendship. not yet. something more… tentative.

i know i should be careful. that the first mistake could get me killed. but for the first time, i don’t feel completely alone. and maybe… maybe that scares me more than anything else in the arena.

we don’t talk after that. i expect her to leave. but she doesn’t. she stays. sitting at the base of the tree i’m in like it’s the most natural thing in the world, her back resting against the trunk, one knee bent, dagger loose in her hand but not raised. watching. waiting. 

protecting? i don’t know.

but she’s there.

the forest shifts around us, branches creak, something moves in the distance, a faint rustle of leaves. but she reacts to everything. her head tilts slightly, eyes scanning, listening. like she’s decided this spot is worth guarding.

i swallow, shifting slightly on the branch.

“you can sleep,” she says suddenly.

i freeze.

did she just—

“sleep,” she repeats, quieter this time, without looking up at me. “i’ll keep watch.”

i hesitate. trusting her feels dangerous but so does staying awake like this.

i adjust my position slightly, trying to make myself comfortable against the rough bark. my shoulder aches more now than before, throbbing in a dull, constant way. i don’t answer her.

but after a long moment—

my eyes close.

the night feels shorter when i’m half asleep but i don’t wake up until the first light of morning filters through the trees.

and when i do—

something’s wrong. pain. sharp, burning pain in my shoulder. i wince before i can stop myself, a quiet hiss slipping out.

then a shift from below me.

my eyes snap open. she’s still there. still at the base of the tree. still watching. 

her gaze is already on me. “it’s infected.”

the words are calm, certain, not a guess. a statement. 

i tense slightly, adjusting my grip on the branch. “i—” i start, then stop, swallowing. “it’s fine.”

it’s not fine. i know that. she knows that.

“you’re going to lose the arm if you ignore it,” she says flatly.

i frown slightly. “that’s dramatic.”

her lips twitch, but there’s no real humor in it. just honesty.

then—

a sound. not from her, from above, a faint whistling. we both look up. a silver parachute descends slowly, catching on a branch just a few meters above me. a sponsor. my breath catches. billie straightens immediately, her entire posture shifting, alert, focused.

“that’s for you,” she says.

i stare at it for a second longer before carefully moving toward it, one hand gripping the tree as i inch closer. my fingers brush the small package. i pull it toward me slowly. medicine, not food, not weapons. medicine. relief hits me so fast it almost feels unreal.

i look down at billie again. she’s already watching me with that same calculating gaze.

“come down,” she says.

i hesitate.

she tilts her head slightly, eyes flicking to the package in my hand.

“you can’t reach the back od your shoulder,” she adds. “you want me to fix it or not?”

fix it. right.

i swallow, then carefully climb down. each movement sends a sharp sting through my shoulder, and i grit my teeth slightly, trying not to show it.

when i reach the ground, i step closer, but not too close, not trust, just… necessity.

billie studies me for a moment before stepping forward. she opens the package, her movements precise, efficient. inside is a small vial and a clean cloth.

“sit,” she says.

i hesitate again. but then i lower myself onto the ground. she crouches in beside me. close. too close. i can feel the heat of her presence. her hands move first, steady, controlled, as she gently pulls the torn fabric away from my shoulder, exposing the wound. i tense instantly at the contact. her fingers brush my skin, light, careful, not rough.

but still—

real.

i inhale sharply. she doesn’t comment, doesn’t hesitate. she focuses on the wound, applying the medicine with careful precision. the moment the liquid touches my skin, it stings, but then quickly settles into a cooling sensation. her grip is firm but controlled as she holds my arm still, her other hand working quickly to clean and apply the medicine.

“you should’ve treated this sooner,” she mutters.

i huff quietly. “i didn’t exactly have a med kit lying around.”

she huffs a quiet laugh, soft, brief. for a second, the tension between us softens. but only for a second.

because even like this—

even sitting here, letting her touch my injury—

we’re still not safe, not allies, not yet.

just two tributes. surviving. side by side. for now. we don’t talk about trust, not directly. but it settles into the space between us anyway. 

after she finishes treating my shoulder, we move, quietly, carefully, together. we find more food by mid-morning, nothing big, but enough to matter. some berries, a small bag left behind in the scramble near the cornucopia, and a better source of water further downstream.

billie moves like she knows exactly where to look, like she’s done this before, like she’s always thinking three steps ahead. i follow her. i don’t ask questions.

we eat in silence, sitting a little apart, backs against trees, watching the forest instead of each other. i pick at my food slowly, but my stomach feels tight.

watching her. watching everything. waiting.

then she speaks.

“we can’t just survive like this,” she says.

i glance at her. 

she’s not looking at me. just staring into the trees, thinking, planning. “we need to take them out.”

my stomach drops slightly.

i keep my face still. “who?”

“the ones from eleven and seven.” she pauses. “there’s two from seven. elias and vera.”

i don’t say anything.

“i’ll take elias,” she continues. “you take vera.”

my grip tightens slightly on the food in my hands.

“after we eat,” she adds, simply.

i nod slowly, pretending.

“okay.”

but my voice doesn’t sound right. i can hear it. billie can too. she looks at me then. really looks. her eyes narrow slightly, not in anger, but in understanding.

and suddenly, i feel exposed.

we keep eating, but it’s quieter now, heavier. i force myself to take another bite. another. my hands feel steady on the outside.

but inside—

my mind won’t stop. killing isn’t something i’ve done. billie notices. of course she does. she always notices.

“who did that to your shoulder?” she asks suddenly.

my fingers still slightly. i hesitate.

“…the boy from seven,” i say quietly.

her gaze sharpens.

“how?”

the question isn’t harsh, just direct. but it feels heavier than it should.

i open my mouth—

and close it again. my throat tightens. the memory comes back too fast. the snap of the twig. the knife. the moment i froze. the moment i didn’t move. i swallow.

billie’s eyes don’t leave me. she’s waiting, not pushing, just waiting for the truth.

“i didn’t…” i start, then stop.

my voice shakes.

“i couldn’t kill him.”

the words come out quieter than i expect, raw, honest.

i glance down at the ground.

“he… he hesitated too.”

silence, not uncomfortable, just real.

then—

billie exhales softly, like she already knew, like she’s just confirming something. her gaze softens, just slightly. not completely, but enough.

“we can change the plan,” she says after a moment.

i look up at her quickly.

“but,” she adds, her voice steady, “you will have to kill eventually.”

not a threat, just reality. i swallow. she’s right. i know she’s right. but knowing doesn’t make it easier.

i hesitate, then, quietly—

i tell her everything. how he found me, how i froze, how he attacked, how i almost, how i couldn’t.

billie listens without interrupting. when i finish, there’s a long pause. then she nods slightly.

“…yeah,” she says quietly, no judgment, just understanding. “then we don’t do it that way.”

i blink. “what?”

her eyes meet mine again, focused, sharp, but not cold.

“we adapt,” she says. “you’re not built to be a killer like them.”

a beat.

“but you’re built to survive.”

that lands harder than anything else. because she’s not wrong. 

we sit there in the quiet for a moment longer. the plan shifts. not gone, just… changed, but one thing stays the same, we’re working together now.

not because we trust each other completely. not because we’re safe.

but because, for now—

we’re stronger together.

a billie eilish fanfiction — part one

next.

pairings: billie eilish x fem!oc — juliette. warnings: mentions of violence, injury, thats all i believe. word count: idk its just long.

juliettes pov

the air tastes like metal. 

that's the first thing i notice when i'm standing on my plate in the arena. not the sun. not the crowd. not even the cornucopia sitting a few hundred metres away, full of everything we’ve been told will keep us alive. just metal, heat, and the kind of quiet fear that settles without asking, and never leaves.

i keep my hands still at my sides. don’t run yet. that’s what they want. panic. chaos. blood before the countdown even finishes. i force my breathing to stay even as i look around. other tributes. some are already trembling. some are staring straight ahead like statues. a few glance around like they’re already planning their first move. 

i study them carefully. 

a boy from district 1, confident, too confident. he shifts his weight like he’s itching to run the second the gong sounds. 

a girl a few tributes away from me, district 10, tense, her eyes darting constantly. not a fighter. a runner. someone like me… but less prepared.

then i see her.

district 2.

she stands a few plates down, diagonal from the cornucopias entrance. her hair is… silver? it’s messy, probably from the wind, and it falls down just past her shoulders. her posture is sharp. like she belongs there. like she’s already decided she’s going to win.

billie.

she doesn’t look at the cornucopia. she’s watching people. scanning. calculating. like she’s already decided who’s going to die first. her gaze flicks, quick, precise, and for a split second, it lands on me. 

i don’t look away. most people would. most people fear her. fear district 2. but i don’t move. i don’t smile either. just hold her gaze, steady and quiet, like i’m not afraid of her. like i’m not afraid of anything.

her eyes narrow slightly. not anger. interest.

then the countdown starts. 

“ten.”

the voice echoes above us, smooth and cold.

i force myself to look forward. the cornucopia. supplies, weapons, death. bloodbath.

“nine.”

my fingers twitch, just slightly. i curl them into my palms.

“eight.”

i calculate. 

distance, timing, who will run first, who will hesitate, who will die.

“seven.”

the girl from district 4 is shaking. the boy from 5 shifts his feet.

“six.”

billie hasn’t moved.

“five.” 

neither have i.

“four.”

my heart beats faster, but i keep my face calm.

“three.”

i glance at the ground. at my plate. soft dirt. easy to slip on.

“two.” 

the air feels heavier. like the world is holding its breath.

“one.”

the gong shatters the silence.

and then—

chaos.

footsteps explode all around me as tributes sprint forward, crashing into each other, tripping, screaming.

i don’t run immediately. i wait. just for a second. let the strongest go first. let them clash. then i move. not fast, not slow, just enough.

i angle myself slightly away from the centre of the bloodbath, aiming for the outer edges of the circle where fewer people will go.

behind me, i hear the first scream. i don’t turn around. someone’s already dead. or dying. i slip past two tributes fighting over a backpack, ducking low as one swings a knife wildly. it whistles just above my shoulder. too close. but i keep moving. stay small. stay unnoticed. that’s how you survive.

a shadow crosses in front of me. i freeze. for a split second, my mind races.

attack? run?

then i see her again.

billie.

closer now.

she’s already taken something, there’s a weapon in her hand, but her attention isn’t on the cornucopia anymore. it’s on the chaos. on the people. on me.

we lock eyes again. this time, she moves first. not toward me. just slightly adjusting her path. like she’s decided i’m not worth killing.

yet.

or maybe…

something else.

i don’t know.

but i don’t run from her. instead, i nod once. small. almost nothing. not trust. just acknowledgement.

she studies me for a second longer. then turns away, disappearing into the crowd of chaos and screaming.

i exhale slowly. good. 

for now.

i keep moving. and i don’t look back.

i don’t go for the cornucopia. not directly. by the time i circle around the edge of the bloodbath, it’s already chaos, screams cutting through the air, metal clashing, bodies dropping. too many people. too many eyes.

too easy to die.

so i move the way i’ve always moved. quiet and careful. i slip between trees at the edge of the arena, keeping low, listening more than i look. the sound of the fight fade behind me, replaces by birdsong that feels almost… wrong. too peaceful. like the arena is pretending nothing just happened.

i tighten my grip on the small pack i managed to grab. nothing fancy.

food. a canteen. a knife.

that’s all i need to survive the first day.

i keep moving until the noise is distant enough that i can finally stop. my chest rises and falls a little too fast. i force myself to breathe slower. 

in. out. you’re alive. that’s what matters.

— by midday, i find water.

a narrow stream tucked between thick trees, the kind you’d miss if you weren’t looking. i crouch down slowly, scanning the area first. no tracks, no movement. 

still.

safe enough.

i kneel and dip the canteen into the water, letting it fill slowly. my fingers are steady, even though my thoughts aren’t.

this is the part where people die. when they get careless. when they think they’re safe.

i don’t let myself relax. not even for a second.

once it’s full, i drink a little, then refill it again. just in case. then i move on.

i don’t stay in one place long. that’s rule one.

— by late afternoon, i find a tree thick enough to climb, its branches strong and high enough to hide me from the ground.

i test it first, pulling myself up slowly, feeling for weak spots. the bark digs into my palms. i settle into the higher branches, wedging myself between two strong limbs. from here, i can see a small stretch of the forest.

i take out a small piece of food and eat it slowly, forcing myself not to rush. eat too fast, and you run out.

run out, and you die.

simple.

below me, the arena feels… quieter. but not safe. never safe. 

somewhere in the distance, i hear a scream cut off too quickly. my stomach tightens. i don’t look. i can’t look.

— night comes fast.

too fast.

the sky darkens, and the arena changes. every sound feels louder. every shadow feels closer. 

i stay still in the tree, knees pulled to my chest, knife resting loosely in my hand. my eyes scan the darkness constantly. waiting. listening. a twig snaps somewhere far below. i freeze. then silence again. my heart beats louder than i want it to.

stay quiet, stay still, stay alive.

— hours pass. maybe. time doesn’t feel real out here. just survival, just breath, just—

a howl echoes through the arena. 

not human.

something wild.

i grip the branch tighter, muscles tensing.

the hunger games don’t just kill you with people.

they use everything.

i swallow, forcing myself not to move. not to react. just to exist.

somewhere in the distance, the sky lights up. a cannon fires. then another. and another. i close my eyes for a moment. not out of sadness. just understanding. another one gone. another one who didn’t make it past the first day.

i open my eyes again. 

focus.

i shift slightly on the branch, adjusting my position so i don’t fall asleep in the wrong posture. sleep here isn’t comfort. it’s survival. i keep one hand near my knife. my other gripping the branch.

and eventually—

against everything in me—

my body forces rest. my breathing slows. the forest hums softly around me. and i fall asleep. high above the ground. alone.

but alive.

Chapter 2: “Take her on a tour and film it”

previous. next.

(please read introduction first or else this will make zero sense to you!! (yes its wlw, read the intro.))

Lando’s POV — Formula 1 Paddock — Thursday 16 November 2023

Oscar and I enter the garage, to be greeted by a nervous looking Charlotte, who is standing with Billie Eilish.

She is dressed in a pair of washed dark blue jeans with a baggy black Nike jacket zipped all the way up, the outfit complimenting the bright red roots blended into her dark black hair.

I watch as she observes the area she is in, walking up to her and greeting her with a polite handshake. "Hi, I'm Lando, this is Oscar." I say, pointing to Oscar with my other hand.

"Hey. Nice to meet you both." She says, her American accent flowing as she speaks a soft and kind voice.

"So, the plan is to give Billie a tour, boys." Charlotte tells us. We grab the shared McLaren phone and head out to the pit entry to start filming with Billie.

"Hello everyone." Oscar says as we begin filming ourselves. "Hey guys, today we are here in the Las Vegas paddock, about to give a special tour of the track to the one and only, Billie Eilish!" I continue enthusiastically.

"Thank you for having me, I'm excited to be shown around." Billie says to us, professionally for the camera, but also out of her kind manor.

We work our way around the paddock, showing Billie all of the places, we hang, train, prepare, and review over the weekend.

"And this is the pit lane, where you will find every team's garage, crew, and drivers most of the time. It's where the cars are kept and improved and where the pit stops happen during the race." I will explain.

"Great!" She says as we continue walking down the pits. We stop filming for a bit as we head down the end of the pit lane.

Oscar pipes up, asking Billie a question. "So have you watched any races before Billie?"

"Bits and pieces. I know how most of it all works And I have of course watched Drive to Survive." She responds, sharing that she's watched the Netflix series on our sport.

"Well, if you've watched DTS, then you must certainly know this man." I say as George Russell walks over to greet us. "Mr Complainer." I joke, everyone laughing at my small remark towards George.

"You know Lando, you're not too bad at complaining yourself." George comes back at me. "Whatever you want to believe Russell." I bicker with him.

Oscar sighs, shaking his head at our petty arguments. He cuts to the point, introducing our paddock guest, Billie, to the British driver that is George. "Billie, this is George Russell. George, I'm sure you are aware of Billie Eilish."

"Welcome to the paddock, it is lovely to meet you. My girlfriend Carmen is a huge fan and honestly so am I!" George says, shaking Billie's hand.

"It's great to meet you too." She giggles at George's little fangirling moment.

"We are filming a video for McLaren, giving Billie a tour as she is our paddock guest for this week's race." I explain.

We talk a little longer with George but are mindful of the time that Charlotte gave us to film.

"We should probably continue." Oscar announces to the group and me. "Yes probably." I agree with my teammate.

"Yes, sorry for holding you all up, will you be at Daniel's dinner tonight?" George asks us both.

"Yeah, we will be there." I answer on behalf of both of us as George gives us the thumbs up as he walks backwards before turning away and heading back into the Mercedes garage.

We head out onto the track, filming once again and explaining to Billie that this will be our first race here in Vegas.

"It is exciting to race on the streets of Vegas, it seems kind of surreal to be honest." I share with both Billie and the camera, Oscar agreeing with me.

"Do you guys race a lot of street circuits?" Billie asks us. "There are a few during the season, the best ones are Monaco, Baku, Melbourne. I like those ones." Oscar answers.

"And that concludes our tour of the Las Vegas track, pits and paddock." I say to the camera.

"A massive thank you to Billie for being a part of this video and for coming to support us over the weekend. We are glad to have you join the papaya family." Oscar says.

Billie smiles at his words, "Thank you guys for hosting me this weekend and thank you for the little tour, it's been great!" She says before we all say bye collectively and stop recording the video.

"Well, there we have it." I say, wrapping up as we walk back towards the garage.

"Do you have any other plans while you are here in Vegas?" Oscar asks Billie.

"I don't actually. I have to look over some meetings and event schedules but other than that I plan on watching the driving and maybe trying to write some new work."

She shares her plans for the weekend, they seem pretty relaxed, but great at the same time.

"Do you guys do stuff around here or just wait around until you have to be in the car?" She asks.

"Normally it depends where we are but tonight, we are actually going out for dinner with a few of us drivers, you might have heard George mention it." I told her. "We are going to 'Top of the World.'" Oscar adds.

"Oh, that's a great place for dinner." Billie says, "I've dined there before, it is a great experience."

"Well, if you're available we are meeting there at 6:30. I'm sure Daniel can find an extra chair to add to the table." I suggest.

I don't know why I invited her. I mean it's Billie Eilish. I'm sure she has much better things to do with her time than go out for dinner with a few blokes who drive cars for a living, their girlfriends, and a sister of one of the drivers.

"Sure, sounds good. I have nothing else planned anyways." Billie responds to my surprise.

"Cool, I'll let Daniel know." I say as we enter back to where we started in the McLaren motorhome.

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MASTERLIST

Introduction. (READ FIRST!!!!!!!) Chapter 1: Welcome to the Paddock Chapter 2: “Take her on a tour and film it” Chapter 3: Dinner with Daniel Chapter 4: Teenage games Chapter 5: The Morning After Chapter 6: Rumours Over Brunch Chapter 7: Teenage games… Again? Chapter 8: Twisted Choices Chapter 9: Mirrors Chapter 10: Quali Day Chapter 11: Feelings, Flirts, Friends, and Food Chapter 12: Fucking Paparazzi Las Vegas Grand Prix 2023. Chapter 13: Crashes & Confessions Chapter 14: Surprise Arrivals Chapter 15: The Date Chapter 16: A Sweet and Short Goodbye Chapter 17: Abu Dhabi Bound Chapter 18: Hate and Highs Chapter 19: A First For Everything Chapter 20: “don’t fall asleep just yet” Chapter 20 (Part 2): I Bet You Think About Me Abu Dhabi Grand Prix 2023. Chapter 21: Pretty Fucking Tired Chapter 22: Peculiar Influence Chapter 23: Unpacking Chapter 24: Everything In Between Chapter 25: Mini Panic Chapter 26: Fitting in Chapter 27: Too Early