Billie Eilish Imagines And Preferences

Billie's Sick

"CALL THE PRIEST!"Billie screams from the sofa. "TELL MY STORY!"

"Billie, shut up," you laugh, emerging from your room to go sit by Billie on the sofa. "You've just got a little fever. You're not dying, and you know it. Don't be such a git."

"I'm ill. My head hurts and I have a bellyache. Don't be a hater, Y/N," Billie says, fake-pouting at you. "If I die, you'd better be at my funeral."

"Stop being so bloody dramatic," you say, poking her in the arm. 

"But I'm dyinggggg," Billie whines. "Can't you at least make me some soup to make me feel better?"

"No," you say with a smirk.

"Why?" Billie complains.

"Because I don't want to," you reply. "My cooking skills are rubbish."

"It's not that hard, Y/N. You grab a can of soup and heat it up. There's nothing to it," Billie chuckles.

"You haven't seen me cook, have you? Somehow I'd even manage to mess that up," you say.

"Please, Y/N?" Billie begs, pouting. "I'll do anything."

"Nope," you say.

"Fine, but you owe me. Sing me a lullaby," Billie says, putting her head on your shoulder and tucking a blanket around you both.

"What do you want me to sing?" you ask.

"I don't know. Make something up," Billie says, closing her eyes.

"Okay," you say. You clear your throat and sing in an annoying falsetto. "Billie Eilish is a big baby, a big baby, a big baby-"

"Shut up!" Billie laughs, slugging you in the arm. "You suck."

"You love me," you shoot back with a grin.

"I do. So shut up and sing something else, you twit," Billie giggles.

"Okay, okay," you laugh. So you start singing Ocean Eyes quietly. Billie immediately grins at you, seeming proud that you chose to sing one of her songs. She closes her eyes again. By the time you're done singing, she's asleep.