Billie Eilish Imagines - GXG

You look amazing. You always do.

Billie is not vegan in this chapter idgaf
The beginning of this is very old... I found this in my notes from June

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Thanksgiving morning at Billie's apartment started peacefully, the crisp November air seeping through the windows as the two girls shuffled around, getting ready. Billie was always one to take her time and hummed softly in the bathroom. Meanwhile, Y/N stood in front of the full-length mirror in the bedroom, fiddling with the hem of her soft, beige sweater. Her emotions were already running high, but she couldn't quite pin down why. Maybe it was the pressure of meeting Billie's family, or perhaps it was just that kind of day where every little thing felt overwhelming.

Y/N smoothed her skirt for what felt like the hundredth time and sighed. She thought they'd discussed outfits last night or at least come to an unspoken agreement that they'd coordinate. Billie always liked to keep things casual, but Y/N had dressed with care—soft autumn tones that screamed Thanksgiving warmth. It mattered to her, though she hadn't said it aloud.

When Billie finally came out of the bathroom, Y/N's heart sank. Billie had opted for her signature look: jeans, a tee, and a deep green flannel thrown loosely over her shoulders. The outfit suited her perfectly, of course—it always did—but the lack of coordination made Y/N feel...off.

"You're not matching me," Y/N blurted out before she could stop herself, her voice sharper than intended.

Billie raised an eyebrow, catching the tone immediately. "Matching you? Babe, it's not a prom picture. I thought you said you liked this shirt."

"I do," Y/N mumbled, crossing her arms. "But now I look stupid. I'll just change." She turned toward the closet, her emotions bubbling to the surface in annoyance.

Billie stepped closer, her voice softening. "Don't do that. You look great. You're perfect."

"I'm not perfect. And I'm changing," Y/N shot back, pulling off her cardigan as she rifled through her hangers.

Billie let out a small sigh, the kind that said she wasn't going to let this spiral any further. "Put your cardigan back on," she said firmly, her tone low but comforting.

Y/N shook her head, still refusing to look at her. Billie didn't hesitate; she walked over to where the cardigan had landed on the chair, picked it up, and gently draped it over Y/N's shoulders. Her hands lingered as she adjusted it, smoothing out the fabric before turning Y/N to face her.

"There," Billie said, meeting Y/N's gaze. "Now you look like my girl again."

Y/N blinked back the sting of tears. She hated how easily Billie could disarm her, but she also loved her for it. "You're impossible," Y/N muttered, though there was no real heat behind it.

"And you're adorable," Billie countered, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. "Now, c'mon. My mom's been texting me every ten minutes, asking when we'll get there. We'll be late if you keep looking so cute that I have to stop and admire you."

-

The drive to Billie's parents' house was filled with soft music and quiet conversation. Y/N's nerves began to settle the closer they got, especially with Billie's hand resting warmly on her thigh the entire way.

At the house, Billie's family greeted them with open arms. Her mom, an effortlessly warm woman in an apron dusted with flour, hugged Y/N as though she'd known her for years. "So happy you're here, sweetheart," she said, making Y/N feel instantly welcome.

The rest of the day was a mix of chaos and comfort. Billie's dad took over the TV with a football game, and her younger cousins ran wild around the living room. Billie never left Y/N's side for too long, always checking in with a soft squeeze of her hand or a whispered, "You doing okay?"