billie eilish one shots

vote pls

it all started with a smug grin and a suspicious-looking apron.

"i made you lunch," billie called out from the kitchen, her voice far too chipper for someone who'd just spent the last twenty minutes giggling and rummaging through spices she didn't know how to pronounce.

you, curled up on the couch with a throw blanket and your laptop, narrowed your eyes toward the kitchen door. "why does that sound like a threat?"

"it's not!" she called back. "it's a gift."

which was worse, honestly.

you loved billie. you loved her weird socks and her sleepy voice and the way she couldn't pass a dog without trying to pet it. you loved her music, her messy hair in the mornings, and her random bursts of affection that usually included her throwing herself on top of you like a weighted blanket.

what you did not love—what you feared—was when she said the words i made food for you and followed it with that grin. the grin that meant chaos.

you peeked over the back of the couch just as she stepped into the living room, cradling a mismatched tray like it was a birthday cake. she wore an apron that said kiss the cook, smeared with something green and ominous. her eyes sparkled with mischief. this was not going to be good.

"ta-da!" she said proudly, setting the tray down on the coffee table in front of you.

you looked down. then back at her. then down again.

it was... a sandwich? maybe? a suspicious pile of something rested between two slices of bread. you saw what looked like olives, marshmallows, and was that... peanut butter? and a slice of cheese? you blinked. "billie. what is this."

"it's a culinary masterpiece," she said, arms crossed, beaming. "i call it... chaos between carbs."

you snorted. "did you make this just to see if i'd eat it?"

her eyes twinkled with fake innocence. "i would never."

"uh huh."

you stared at the monstrosity before you. somewhere, gordon ramsay was probably crying.

billie plopped down beside you, pulling her legs up onto the couch. "one bite," she said, poking you in the side. "come on. for science."

you gave her a deadpan look. "i'm going to die."

"just one bite."

you sighed, picked up the sandwich with the dread of someone about to face their final meal, and slowly brought it to your mouth. billie was already holding up her phone like this was a netflix special.

you took a bite.

the first thing that hit you was the peanut butter. okay. not bad.

then the olives.

then the pickles.

then... marshmallow fluff?

you couldn't decide if you were chewing or your mouth was staging a protest. billie was grinning so hard she might explode.

you forced a smile. "yum."

billie burst into laughter. "no you didn't! you hate olives!"

"i do," you said, mouth full, trying not to gag. "so. much."

"babe, your eyes are watering."

"that's just the flavor overwhelming me."

she doubled over in laughter, clutching her stomach. "okay, okay—spit it out, i'm not that evil."

you scrambled for a napkin like your life depended on it, practically coughing it out with a dramatic shiver. "billie eilish pirate baird o'connell, what did i ever do to deserve that?"

she was wheezing, tears in her eyes from laughing. "you should've seen your face. you looked like you were re-evaluating our entire relationship."

you pointed an accusing finger at her. "i was."

she leaned in and kissed your cheek. "you're such a good sport. my brave little taste tester."

"i want a divorce."

"you're not even married to me."

"i'm divorcing you anyway."

billie only laughed harder, pulling you into her lap like she hadn't just tried to poison you with a sandwich. "i love you," she said sweetly.

"i fear you," you whispered back.

you stayed there for a while, tangled in each other, her head resting on your shoulder as she wiped away tears of laughter.

"i'll make it up to you," she promised eventually.

"by never cooking again?"

"by ordering pizza," she said. "and cuddling you for the rest of the night."

"deal," you said, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

she looked up at you, eyes soft now, all mischief faded into that tender thing she did when she wasn't being a menace. "thanks for playing along."

you sighed dramatically. "all in the name of love."

and even though your stomach was still recovering, you'd do it all over again—just to see her laugh like that.

a/n: hope you like it

REQUESTS OPEN

TAYCIERAPP YAPPING:  i just had a nightmare. it was actually not a nightmare cause it was probably the best dream i had lately. in which i was dating my neighbor (she is fine and masc guys...) but she has a girlfriend and we never speak. does this mean i like her?😭

(the nightmare part was waking up btw)