🌟bILLIE eILISH smut 🌟

Uhh... What About Your Brother? (B.E.)

you're british. bri-ish, bo'ul a' wah-er stfu. there's differen accents we don't all sound the same mate. it's like me saying that every american sounds like they're southern. like. yk.

you don't have to be british but whatever

honestly i've had this drafted for MONTHS, so feast!!

"—So, you gonna go in to my house?"

"Huh?" You reply, holding the phone to your ear. You kind of zoned out to him talking about... something?

"I said, you gonna go in to my house? Am I, like, breaking up or something on your end? You aren't really responding."

"Huh? Not really. Few voice cracks here and there but i think that's just because you have no balls and should ask that girl you see in the store 24/7 if she wants to go on a date."

You smirk to yourself as you sit in your car, seatbelt still on. You were just on the phone with your best friend, Finneas, right now.

"Oh shut up."

"Anyway, can't. Haven't got a key."

Finneas murmurs something to himself.

"There's one on the porch under the front swing cushion."

"Excuse me?" You ask while raising your eyebrows.

You look at the porch.

"Yeah?"

"Seriously? You're one of those people?"

"What? What do you mean?"

You shake your head.

"You're that person who hides a key near their house. Aren't you scared someone's gonna just... give your swing a go, find the key sticking up their ass while on the swing and then, like, rob you?"

It's quiet on the other line.

"No..? Not really. Anyway, i gotta go."

"Okay, alright. Talk to you later, duuuude." You spoke in a "surfer-boy" mock-accent.

"'Course brah." Finneas replied in the same voice and then hung up as you laughed.

You inhale sharply with a smile as you exit your car—making sure everything is off and locked before you walk away.

As you walk up the patio stairs, you think about how warm it got since you stepped out of the shade of a nearby tree and into the direct beams of sunlight.

You just hoped Finneas had some sort of air-con system in his house. You don't see why not—it's California. A guaranteed 23°C plus everyday.

So, you walk over to the swing set outside the small house and lift the front two cushions on the swing and instantly find the key just sat there.

Shaking your head, you walk over to the front door and unlock it. The house was very much a loving-family-environment. It was very much a home rather than a house.

"Damn. This is lowkey nice." You mumble with a chuckle. You could obviously tell the house was old and the paint had chippings on almost every doorway you passed by.

On your tour around the house, you explored the living room, which seemed to be a makeshift bedroom too, the kitchen, the bathroom and Finneas's room.

There was another room but the door was shut. It was the room directly opposite to the bathroom. Also, there was a door in the kitchen that lead somewhere else too but you didn't know where.

It was otherwise silent in the house—with the exception of you walking around and drumming your fingers on random objects due to boredom.

You sent Fin a text asking him if you could steal a snack or two and sit in his room. He replied positively and you chuckled to yourself.