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angelxsarahp · 2 months

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Chapter Forty-Seven: Scarlet.

Summary: Wilhemina Venable felt it was finally time to leave Kineros Robotics and get a job with people who weren’t such morons like Jeff and Mutt. What she didn’t expect, however, was for her new boss to be so damn insufferable. She didn’t expect to fall in love with her, either.

Tag List: @mayfair-fleur @mistysswampmud @paulsonsratched @msvenablx @notmeellaannyy @rwoolfe @golddustdykes @lovingsarah @slut-for-sarah @geinobinarie (message me to be added if interested!)

A/N: I'd like to thank everyone who's still interested in this very much close to my heart story and everyone who's been rooting for me and for everything going on in my life. Things have not been easy, and I've been thinking and wishing that I could just sit down and write, but I just... couldn't. I'm back now though, hopefully for good. Thank you, once again. I don't plan on letting that story go any time soon x.

Change of subjects. Venable supposed Billie Dean would open up more when she felt ready. Doing her best to shift her internal dynamics, she nodded and leaned to peck her lips once. How would my grandmother be like? She would never find out… she would never know if her family would have loved Billie Dean, if her mother would have been happy for her, if her father would have grown protective. I’m alone. She knew that, but being reminded of it was a different story. “We can order.” Clearing her throat in order to clear her mind, Wilhemina reached for her phone inside her pocket. Billie Dean snuggled closer and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, caressing it. I’m glad she has a family.

“Do you mind if we eat something other than McDonald’s?” Billie asked softly, hesitantly.

“Not at all. I was going to ask you that same question, actually.” A chuckle left Venable’s lips. She opened the delivery app and slowly began to scroll down the many options there.

Billie Dean smiled and leaned closer, eyes on the screen. “What about some pasta?” Venable hummed. Pasta sounded good. “There’s this restaurant I always order from.” Gently, Billie reached to touch on the screen; her nail produced a tiny sound as it made contact with the glass. “They have the most delicious red sauce.”

“You know I won’t argue with you over food recommendations,” Wilhemina teased, trying to lift the somber atmosphere off of herself. It worked, for Billie Dean laughed in a way that got her mind thinking about nothing but the way that woman beside her managed to be so damn majestic.

“I hope I won’t let you down this time.” Honey eyes moved to brown ones.

Wilhemina offered her a tiny smile. “You couldn’t.” It was true, and it was also scary. Not now.

Humming lovingly, Billie looked down at the screen again. “I usually go for their spaghetti with meatballs. They also have those delicious breadsticks that taste heavenly with the sauce.”

“That’s perfect.”

“Would you like me to order?”

Venable nodded. She handed her phone to Billie Dean and leaned on her shoulder to watch the screen. Billie Dean bit her inner cheek, holding back her grin as she began to tap down on the mobile. “Do they have anything sweet?” How funny was it that ever since starting to work at Billie Dean Howard & Co. Wilhemina found herself craving sweets in a way she had never done before? Sweets had never been much of a part in her life.

“A few pies.” Swiftly, Billie clicked on the options. She slowly scrolled down. “Their pecan one is delicious.”

Venable was about to agree to it when she saw there was cheesecake on the menu. “Have you ever tried their cheesecake?”

“Not really. We can though, if you’d like.”

Wilhemina nodded. “It’s my favorite.”

“Really?” Honey eyes moved to brown ones once again. Venable smiled a little. She did offer me some cheesecake last week. “I’ll keep that in mind.”A soft blush coated Wilhemina’s cheeks. Billie Dean took notice of it to herself and looked back at the screen. “They have strawberry, grape and blueberry. Which one would you like?”

“I personally prefer grape, but anything else is fine.”

“Grape it is, then.” Billie quickly placed their order, holding back the urge to complain about the fact that Wilhemina was paying for everything. The subject didn’t even cross Venable’s mind, if she were being honest, for the simple fact that Billie Dean had quickly gotten them grape cheesecake was enough to melt her heart in a strange way; she didn’t even question it, she simply got them what Wilhemina had said she liked more. Such a small act, but so damn sweet in nature… Venable wondered if Billie even realized how much she managed to enchant people. Handing the phone back to Wilhemina, Billie Dean leaned back against the couch, arm still wrapped around Venable’s shoulders. “It should be here in about forty-five minutes.”

Wilhemina hummed as she set her phone aside. With both of her hands free, she reached for Billie’s free one and tangled their fingers, slowly playing with them as she looked down at their hands. Will she ever be bothered by the fact I have no family? Like it or not, Venable would never be able to introduce Billie Dean to a mother or a father. I’ve never stopped to think about it before. Her relationship with Lisa had been so different she wondered if it could even compare.

Lost in thought, Venable didn’t realize the way honey eyes were so concentrated on her, analyzing every single feature of her beautiful face. Billie still wondered how could she have not realized just how utterly gorgeous Wilhemina was from the very first time they saw one another. The memories came crashing inside her brain, and Billie Dean couldn’t help but let out a faint chuckle at how different things were, now. Past Billie Dean would have never guessed.

The sound that left Billie’s lips pulled Venable away from her mind. She blinked once and looked at Billie Dean. “What is it?” She asked softly, small smile on her lips.

Shaking her head, Billie smiled a little more. “I was just thinking back to when we first met… to how different everything was.”

“Oh.” What a change of thoughts. Venable nodded. “Indeed.”

“I was so… intrigued by you.”

“Intrigued?” A questioning fiery eyebrow raised up.

Billie nodded. She licked her lips as she thought about how to best articulate her words. “You were so… different. You are different.” The frown in Wilhemina’s features seemed to grow. Billie Dean’s lower lip got caught between her pearl teeth for a moment. “The way you’re so true to yourself… not bending your head down to anyone. It’s different.”

Venable had never stopped to really think of herself that way. “I suppose.”

Billie nodded. Her fingers caressed Wilhemina’s, as well as her other hand on her shoulder. “I mean it mostly about how you’ve always treated me. I was just someone else to you.”

Wilhemina couldn’t help but let out a small irony filled chuckle. “You’re anything but just someone else to me,” she said before she could process the words.

Billie Dean’s smile now reached her eyes. Her chest fluttered just enough for her to want to kiss that woman again. “I mean back then… you’ve never kissed my ass.” Well now that’s just weird. Billie held back the stupid childish giggle that desperately fought for freedom inside herself.

I’d like to kiss her ass now. Wilhemina gulped. Come on. “I know what you mean… and I’m glad for what it means to you.”

Billie nodded. “I desperately wanted to get to know you.”

“Was I that mysterious?”

“Oh yeah,” Billie Dean teasingly raised her eyebrows. “Everyone wanted to get to know you.” Venable let out a scoff. “It’s true!” Billie protested. “I know Emma did.” Brown eyes stared deeply into honey ones. Billie Dean raised a hand in protest, although her cheeks began to blush. Was it a good idea to make that joke? Both knew it hadn’t really been a joke.

“Ugh,” Venable groaned. The reminder that Emma existed—and in consequence, all of their current situation—was definitely not something Wilhemina wanted right now. But also… was that a hint of jealousy in Billie’s voice? Overwhelmed, Venable hid her face against Billie Dean’s neck, which caused a loud laugh to leave Billie’s lips and a hand to tangle in fiery hair. “Don’t even remind me of her,” she murmured.

“I’m sorry, it just slipped out.” To hear Wilhemina saying she didn’t even want to be reminded of Emma was, in all honesty, an amazing feeling. Am I…? She was. Billie Dean knew that.

Wilhemina groaned again before looking back up. She licked her lips as she thought. Thinking of Emma has always been anxiety inducing. It was rage inducing now, too. “I still can’t believe she’s said the things she did to you… who does she think she is?”

“Someone who’s in love with you,” Billie Dean said quietly.

“She’s not—she’s not in love with me,” Venable quickly said. Honey eyes kept on looking at her. Wilhemina frowned. Is she? No, it didn’t make sense. She shook her head. “It’s not—it was not like it is with you.”

Billie held back the ginormous grin that wanted to grace her features once again for the sake of the subject they were talking about. It’s not like it is with you. It was a sort of relief to hear that. “She does like you, that’s for sure.”

The worry dimple between her eyebrows kept on intensifying itself. Venable sucked on her lower lip. “Well, yes, but… in love? I don’t think so.”

“Why?”

Wilhemina shrugged. That’s a stupid question. “For starters, it’s me, and then—then how could she be?”

Exactly. It’s you. “Just like I am.”

Venable shook her head again, deciding that it definitely didn’t make any sense. Things between her and Emma had never been as intimate, as comfortable and as personal as things with Billie Dean. How could Emma be in love with her? No, it just didn’t make sense. She wasn’t in love with Emma, after all. “I just… no.”

Dwelling on the subject would cause more harm than good. The dimple between Wilhemina’s brows kept on growing and growing, and so Billie lightly squeezed her hand. “I just meant that maybe she was scared of losing you.”

“She’s never had me,” Venable said, quite coldly. But it was true. Giving herself to someone—anyone—was a huge step for her; one she doubted she could even manage to take in her lifetime. Billie Dean has a part of me. No, she did not, not yet. Billie hadn’t seen her body bare, after all. And still… I do feel like she’s got at least a fraction of me. She sucked on her lower lip again.

Billie kept her eyes on Wilhemina, paying attention to her every movement, even the slightest ones. She’s bothered. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, Wilhie. I’m sor—“

“No,” Venable cut her. Billie Dean closed her mouth. Wilhemina squeezed her hand lovingly, offering her a small smile. “You didn’t… I just—I had never… never stopped to think about it. About that, about how she saw me…” Grimacing, she shook her head again. “It doesn’t matter, she still didn’t have the right to treat you like that.” Logic had always been Venable’s best friend.

Billie had definitely understood that love was a hard subject for Venable. She nodded, caressing Wilhemina’s hand back in order to bring her some comfort. “I agree… but it’s over, now.” Is it? Billie Dean’s stomach dropped at the reminder that Emma knew—or rather, thought she knew—about Terry. She’ll destroy me to Venable. Billie had to think about how she’d approach that subject, but not now, not today. They had had so much turmoil over the past weeks, at least a weekend of peace was more than deserved. “Don’t think about her. She’s not here.”

“But she will be on Monday,” Wilhemina murmured. She leaned her head against the backrest, eyes glued on Billie Dean’s perfect ones. Their faces were close again.

“Then we’ll deal with that on Monday. I’ll be there with you.” Disguising her own worries was a hard task, but Billie knew she had to do it for Venable. Wilhemina seemed to hesitate, but nodded. With a small smile, Billie Dean leaned closer and kissed her lips softly, lingering there. As she was about to pull away, a hand reached to caress her cheek, holding her in place. Billie’s own palm now pulled Venable closer by the shoulder, caressing it. The kiss slowly grew firmer, and inside Wilhemina’s mind, the word ‘we’ passed through nonstop; they were a ‘we’ now. How good did it sound? But also… how would that ‘we’ be on Monday, when they were at a public setting, at a work setting, at a life setting?

“Billie,” Venable whispered softly, thus breaking their kiss. Billie Dean pulled away just enough to stare at dark brown eyes; she found a hint of fear there. Wilhemina nibbled on her lower lip, fingers nervously caressing Billie’s cheek. “On Monday… are we still gonna be we?”

Blonde eyebrows threatened to draw closer together. Billie Dean took a second to understand Venable’s question, but when she did, her own face softened up. She nodded, certain and firmly. “Of course, Wilhie.” She licked her lips as she thought, and then, hesitantly, began to speak again. “It… it took me so long to finally have you. I’m not letting go.”

I’m not letting go. The corners of Wilhemina’s eyes clinked. She nodded, and then she leaned to kiss that woman again because how did she manage to get so fucking lucky? I don’t deserve her. But she was there and she was kissing her and she was holding her so damn lovingly she feared she would melt away in Billie’s arms. I love her. I love her. I love her. She kissed Billie Dean a bit firmer in order to stop herself from having the possibility of letting it slip, and Billie’s arm around her shoulders pulled her even closer, causing her back to lift off of the couch and Billie Dean’s arm to slip lower; instantly, Venable leaned back, but with the hand tangled in Billie’s, she pulled her along. Billie Dean snuggled closer, arm letting go of Wilhemina’s shoulders for the sake of the position they were on. The kisses kept on growing firmer, and Billie Dean’s body now bent weirdly. So she shifted on the couch in order to rearrange her hips, which caused Venable to realize what was going on. Gently, she pulled away once again, eyes on honey ones. “You’re not comfortable, are you?” she whispered with a chuckle.

Chuckling back, Billie Dean shook her head. “No, but it is worth it to keep kissing you.”

Letting out a shy laugh, Wilhemina bit her lower lip. “Straddle me again?”

Billie’s stomach twisted. She nodded and moved to do so, legs on each side of Venable’s body. They had done that same thing that morning, in bed, and later in the vanity, but it was still new. Very new. She smiled down at Wilhemina, feeling as hands caressed her hips. Their breaths mingled. “Much better,” she breathed out.

Venable nodded slowly. “Much better,” she repeated. Brown eyes fell down to those rosy lips in front of her, but before she could move forward they already collided against her own. Wilhemina sighed, hands taking in every single curve of Billie Dean’s waist and hips, feeling the way the rough material of her jeans clung to her skin. Stupid jeans. Venable didn’t know what had gotten into her. And then she remembered that time Emma had straddled her in the couch of her house, and how different it had felt to make out with her; with Billie, time simply stopped. Against Wilhemina’s shoulders, near her head, Billie Dean rested her forearms and caressed her cheeks with her thumbs, cupping the fat there as if she were holding the most precious piece of art in the universe. Their tongues had long ago met, dancing like velvet against one another. Just to tease, Billie nibbled on Venable’s lower lip and pulled on it softly, a small smirk on her lips. “Oh—“ Wilhemina instantly gasped. Her cheeks turned such a dark shade of red it was nearly purple. Honey eyes turned darker as they stared at her, and Billie Dean caught her own lower lip between those same teeth, now. Venable gulped. Her lower stomach trembled, as well as her hands that kept on exploring Billie’s back.

“Do you like it?” Billie Dean asked in a near whisper, voice dropping in a way Venable hadn’t heard before. Wilhemina nodded again. I want to devour her, the thought passed through Billie’s mind as fast as lightening. She was the one to gulp now.

“I—I l-like it when y-you straddle me, too.” Venable’s voice trembled from something she couldn’t quite point to; something nice, very.

“Me too.” Billie Dean’s smirk grew a bit more. Her eyes fell down to Wilhemina’s lips before coming back up at dark ones. Venable instinctively pulled her closer. “Can I ask you something?” In the state she was at, Wilhemina doubted she had the power to ever deny Billie Dean anything; she nodded. Billie’s cheeks were the ones to tint now, but only faintly. “Do you like those jeans?”

Fuck. Billie Dean had caught her staring. Of course she had. Now, she turned purple. What an irony. Her eyes fell down as she struggled to keep them on Billie’s, but when she heard that same woman letting out a small chuckle, she looked back up again, lips curving up. What a funny contrast from just a few weeks ago; she would be feeling absolutely ashamed had that happened back then. But it wouldn’t have, for they weren’t that intimate, for they weren’t them yet. Shyly, Venable nodded. “It’s n-not nice to stare… I k-know. My apologies.”

My apologies. Why was Wilhemina so damn classy, even when teasing her? And why did Billie Dean find it so damn sexy? “It is if what you’re staring at is already yours…”

Already yours. Venable blinked once. Is she mine? Did she actually have Billie? What were they? Are we… girlfriends? They were both adults, for fuck’s sake. Did adults even call each other’s partners girlfriends or boyfriends? Wilhemina found it to be so childish… but the concept left her chest tight with joy. She licked her lips, eyes still on honey ones as she tried to find something to say. Nothing came to mind. Billie Dean was about to cut the silence when there was a knock at the door, thus cutting their spell. Both looked away, and Billie carefully got up. “I’ll go—I’ll go get it.” Venable cleared her throat and reached for her cane to get up.

Billie Dean nodded, watching as Wilhemina made her way to the door. Taking a deep breath, she only now realized how fast her heart was beating. Oof. Billie’s lower stomach still burned. She took another deep breath, hand smothering her blonde curls down in order to make herself more presentable. When Venable walked back in, they both followed to the dinner table. “Smells delicious,” she said softly, reaching to help Wilhemina take the containers off of the bag.

Just like Billie Dean, Venable’s whole body seemed to have been engulfed in flames. She forced her mind to go back into place. At the words, she nodded. “Indeed it does.” She reached for the now empty bag. “I’ll go grab the plates and silverware.”

“Let me help you.” Billie followed to the kitchen along with Wilhemina, cheesecake in hand. As they got there, Venable put the bag away and reached for the plates. “Give it to me.” Billie Dean extended her arms once she let the cheesecake go. Slowly but surely, her nerves began to calm down.

“Thank you,” Venable said softly. She now reached for the silverware and for their glasses. “What would you like to drink? I have juice, water, tea…”

“Juice is perfect.”

Wilhemina nodded and moved to grab it, as well as put the dessert into the fridge. They both got back to the living room and set everything down. Sitting face to face, Billie Dean was the one to start opening one of the containers. Venable followed along, heart still a bit faster than usual. Steam raised from the pasta. Billie hummed as she moved to open the container with the breadsticks.

“Looks delicious,” Wilhemina leaned closer. “That’s definitely a hidden talent of yours.”

“Choosing good food?” Billie Dean chuckled as she grabbed a breadstick and took a bite. Venable nodded, carefully serving the both of them. “Well, I’ll take it.”

“You should,” Wilhemina smiled. She pushed a plate closer to Billie before grabbing a fork.

“Thank you.” Taking another bite of the breadstick, Billie Dean reached for a fork and quickly swirled some pasta on it. She took a bite, eyes closing as the taste invaded her mouth. Of course it was as delicious as she remembered it to be, and maybe Venable really was onto something.

Wilhemina couldn’t help but hum as well, reaching for a napkin just to make sure her chin would be free of sauce. “This is wonderful.” Carefully, she reached for a breadstick and dipped it into her dish. Honey eyes watched her lovingly. Venable took a bite.

“Approved?”

“More than so.”

Billie Dean’s smile grew as she got back to eating.

It was interesting, how even a simple task as much as eating felt much more meaningful with Billie around. It caused Wilhemina to wonder what the future held for her, and even though anxiety tried to break it here and there and make things blue, Venable focused only in coral for now; only for a meal, she could manage.

The pasta and breadsticks were soon over, and as Billie Dean followed Wilhemina to the kitchen once again and they loaded the dishwasher together, Billie tried remembering when was the last time she had enjoyed doing chores so much. When was the last time she felt excited to do the dishes, to watch a movie, to just sit on a couch and talk… when was the last time life had showed its colors to her? When was the last time life had allowed itself to be purple?

They both got back to the table, cheesecake in hand. Venable carefully cut them each a piece, mouth salivating at the sight of the creamy cheese and the thick jelly.

“Now that I know it is your favorite, I’m nervous for your reaction,” Billie commented softly.

Shaking her head, Wilhemina let a smile escape her lips. “I’m sure I’ll love it just as much as the pasta.”

“Hopefully.” Billie Dean took a first bite; it was not the best cheesecake she had ever had, but it was good enough for herself. I need to find a way of getting her a piece of that gourmet cheesecake I had in Germany. Honey eyes still watched Venable’s every move.

To Wilhemina, the cheesecake was absolutely delicious, even though it couldn’t be considered the best she had ever had, either. Slowly, she savored each note of sweet and sour, crunch and smooth. She nodded. “It’s good.”

“Not the best, though.” Billie took another bite.

“Maybe not the best, but something I’d buy again.”

“I’ve failed, then,” Billie Dean frowned teasingly, which caused laughter to fill the dining room.

“Don’t be dramatic,” Venable said softly once her laugh died down.

Biting her lower lip, Billie kept her smile printed on her lips. “What’s the best cheesecake you’ve ever had?”

With the dimple between her eyebrows, Wilhemina thought. She felt a foot caressing her own underneath the table. Emma’s. She assumed Billie Dean wouldn’t like that answer. “I can’t really choose.”

“But if you had to?”

Don’t make me answer to that. Lying was not something Venable was fond of… but Emma had been a grey cloud over them, and she desperately needed that cloud to go away. “The homemade cheesecake from one of the ladies at the orphanage… it was the first one I’ve ever had, and none other has ever compared.” It was true in more than one way.

Each bit and detail Wilhemina revealed about her past just caused Billie to admire that woman even more. Her chest flushed with something awfully similar to love. “I bet it was delicious.”

Taking another bite, Venable nodded. When had her past become something so trivial to talk about? “I think it’s more of an affection memory than the taste itself… I do remember it being extremely creamy though, even if the ingredients were probably low quality.” They didn’t have money to spend on extras, after all.

“Affection memories are the best kind,” Billie’s words came as soft as melted butter. “How old were you?”

I’m not sure I have many of those. “Six.”

#fic rec #wilhemina venable x billie dean howard #Billie dean Howard x wilhemina venable

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angelxsarahp · 4 months

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Sweet Girl (Billie Dean Howard x f!Reader)

Synopsis: Meeting your mother's friend was the best day of your life.

Words: 6.9k

Warnings: Semi-choking, praise kink, smut, age gap, marking, alcohol consumption, swearing

“Hey, mom, I-”

You paused in the doorway. The blonde woman who looked up at you, hands curled around one of your mother’s mugs, steam wafting upwards, was most certainly not your mom. Her pink lips quirked up into a smile, eyes sweeping over your body before settling on your face again.

“You’re not my mom,” you said.

“I’m certainly not,” she replied.

You weren’t sure what else to say. She was still watching you, head tilted to one side, and you felt yourself tremble under her gaze. There was something about it that felt like a caress across your skin.

“Um, is my mom around? Only I’m pretty sure this is still her house. Unless she moved without telling me which I wouldn’t put past her,” you said.

“She’s upstairs,” she replied.

“Right.”

Your weight rocked forward before you fell back. Looking away, you were feeling something growing in your stomach, familiar and warm, making your fingers itch. You shoved your hands into your pockets. Her low chuckle was throaty, your eyes snapping up to her again.

The silk blouse she was wearing was open just one button too far, an enticing shadow making you want to lean forward and run your tongue between the valley of her breasts. She crossed one leg over the other, drawing your attention down to where her skirt fluttered around her calves. A hand tipped in pink acrylics began to drum over the tabletop, slow and deliberate. You felt breathless, standing under her gaze.

“Ah, darling, you’re here. Wonderful. Have you met Billie? You must have,” your mother said, coming down the stairs.

You dragged your eyes away from her guest, Billie, to look over to her. She was smiling at you, looking ready for brunch. In your jeans and t-shirt, you were definitely the most underdressed in the room.

“Why are you dressed like that?” your mother asked, sweeping past you to sit at the table with Billie.

“You asked me to come over. Is everything okay? What’s going on?” you asked.

“Darling, we’re going to brunch,” she replied.

“What? Mom, I have class in twenty minutes. I thought this was an emergency,” you said, your exasperation leaking through.

“Surely you can skip just this once,” your mother said, “you’re always too busy to see me anymore.”

“Mom,” you sighed.

“Billie was so looking forward to meeting you,” she said.

“Come on,” Billie said, leaning towards you, “live a little.”

“Fine,” you said, “fine, but you’re buying my meal. And drinks.”

“Whatever you say, darling,” she said.

Sitting in the back of your mother’s car as she drove, you did your best not to stare at the blonde head in front of you. Her eyes kept finding yours in the rear view mirror, sparkling brown, while she kept up with her conversation with your mother. You felt like a sullen teenager sitting there, silent and annoyed. The guilt churning in your stomach was an irritant, your mother knowing how to push your buttons.

The restaurant you were brought to was fancy, fancier than you would ever go to with your friends. From the way you were being looked at, you knew you weren’t dressed well enough for the place. You sat outside, across from Billie, your mother between the two of you. Your server poured iced water into the glasses before leaving the three of you, your quiet thanks the only one given.

“What are you studying?” Billie asked.

“Media and communication,” you replied, fiddling with your cloth napkin.

“A useless choice,” your mother scoffed, scanning over the menu, “I told her to choose something worthwhile. Like biology or accounting.”

“I want to make documentaries,” you said, ignoring your mother completely.

“Well, that sounds wonderful,” Billie said.

“Don’t indulge her,” your mother said.

“Mom, we’ve talked about this,” you sighed.

“You’re so smart, darling. You could do more with your life than making silly movies about things people don’t care about,” she said, placing her menu down.

You gave a cursory glance over yours, not wanting to answer her. You’d had that very same argument time and time again, there was no point trying again. She had her opinion and there was no changing it in your experience.

“Perhaps I could put you in contact with some documentarians,” Billie said before your mother could go into it again, “or if you’d like work experience my show is always looking for interns.”

“Show?”

“Darling, you know Billie. There’s no point feigning ignorance,” your mother sighed.

“Billie Dean Howard,” she said, extending her hand over the table, “medium to the stars.”

You shook her hand, the brush of her skin over yours bringing heat to your cheeks. She was giving you a small smile, chin tilted down, her eyes sparkling with interest. Your breath caught, tongue darting out to wet your lips. Her gaze dipped down to your lips, making heat bloom in your stomach.

“You know her,” your mother was saying, not noticing of the moment you were having, “I’m sure you’ve seen her show. It’s always on.”

“Mom, I don’t… own a TV,” you said, breaking the moment, turning away from Billie and the gravity you felt begging you to fall into her.

“You don’t?” Billie asked.

You turned to look at her, finding her resting her chin in the palm of her hand. Your breath caught again, the way she was looking at you was like you were the most interesting thing she could imagine. You weren’t used to being looked at that way.

“May I take your orders?”

You startled, not having noticed the waiter approaching. A curse slipped over your lips, Billie’s throaty chuckle only bringing more heat to your cheeks. You muttered your order, passing over the menu.

“And a round of mimosas,” your mother said.

You opened your mouth to argue but then shut it again. Billie caught your eye, giving you an amused smile. Butterflies burst in your stomach. You looked down to your lap, not needing this while also dealing with your mother. Why did your mother have to have such a beautiful friend?

You listened as they talked, staying silent. Billie kept catching your eye across the table, a twist of her lips and wandering gaze making you wonder if this wasn’t some kind of torture. Your mother seemed none the wiser of your crisis, but the blonde was watching you as you did your best not to wonder what her fingers would feel like trailing along your skin as they circled the rim of her mimosa.

You downed yours in your attempt to keep yourself from groaning when her tongue darted out, chasing a drop of orange juice at the corner of her lips.

Your French toast was placed down in front of you, the mimosa replaced without being asked. Digging in, you watched Billie salt her eggs Benedict. Your mother wrinkled her nose at you.

“Darling, at some point you’ll have to raise your palette to something more adult,” she said.

“You know I have a sweet tooth,” you mumbled.

“It’s hard to resist something so sweet, isn’t it, sweet girl?” Billie said and you thought you had to be reading too much into her words.

There was no way she’d blatantly flirt with you in front of your mom. Would she? Maybe she would. You didn’t know her at all.

You wanted to though.

As you went to take a sip from your replenished mimosa, you felt a foot graze along yours. You spluttered, dribbling some of the cocktail down your chin. You wiped it away, ignoring your mother’s admonishment to glare across the table. Billie had her lips pressed together, suppressing laughter as she peered back at you, eyes twinkling.

Her foot was slow to glide up your leg, taking her time as you felt yourself become more unhinged. Swiping up some of the sauce on her plate, her tongue licked along her fingers before she sucked it into her mouth, cheeks hollowing, dark eyes keeping your attention hostage. Your mother was still speaking, but it was on the periphery of your senses, your entire being focused on the feeling of her foot brushing your leg, her tongue flicking over her skin, her eyes boring into yours.

Her small smirk told you she knew exactly what she was doing to you.

“I should go,” you said, abruptly standing.

“So soon?” Billie asked.

“I have class,” you muttered, “I’ll text you later, mom.”

You fled from your brunch, heart racing and skin tingling. Dark eyes haunted you on your trek to college and you found yourself wondering what pink lips would taste like. You were stuck contemplating the entire experience instead of listening to your classes, not willing to admit how much you wanted her.

Later, at home, you watched clips of her show on YouTube, one hand in your underwear, imagining it was hers.

A week later, against your better judgement, you agreed to join your friends at one of the bougie bars that you knew was overpriced but catered to a certain clientele. Growing up with a relatively rich crowd, you still felt out of place, even with your mother’s money. It had always settled around you like an uncomfortable skin. But every now and then, you joined your childhood friends for a night out.

This time you did not come underdressed. Your dress was nice and your hair was styled. You’d even put on some makeup. You had heels on. No one could suggest you hadn’t dressed up for your night out.

The lighting was dim, making the atmosphere feel intimate. It was the kind of place you’d bring a date, if you wanted to show off the way your father tried to buy your love by filling your bank account.

Your friends claimed one of the tables, plush leather seats cushioning your body. A bottle of champagne was bought for the table, starting off your night. You kept relatively quiet, listening to what your friends had been up to, not wanting to admit that you were still pursuing a college education in something not business adjacent. You’d heard every joke under the sun from them when you’d first started. Mostly about how you were going to be a homeless bum by the time you were thirty.

A large group came in somewhere between the third and fourth round of drinks. You kept your head bent, not caring, only concerned for the noise that would come from them. There was a part of you considering going home, not sure you should have said yes to coming out with your friends. You were getting pleasantly buzzed, but you were tired and looking to curl up in bed with your laptop and thoughts of dark eyes and pink nails.

Noticing your drink was empty, you got to your feet, wandering up to the bar. You hoisted yourself into one of the seats, one leg crossing over the other, the hem of your skirt riding up as you lent forward.

“Hello, sweet girl,” a warm voice purred in your ear.

You startled, turning your head to look over your shoulder. Blonde curls resting against her shoulder, lips pulling up into a wicked smile, dark eyes glittering, Billie Dean Howard looked as if she’d stepped right out of your fantasies. You could feel your eyes widening as you watched her take the seat beside you, long fingers tapping on the top of the bar, pink acrylics making a pleasing noise where they connected with wood.

“What are you doing here, sweet girl?” she asked, “I wouldn’t think this was your kind of a place.”

“My friends,” you gestured somewhere behind you, “they uh… this is their kind of place.”

She didn’t even bother glancing at your group. Her eyes had settled on you and you weren’t sure they would be moving any time soon. The barman arrived and she didn’t even bother looking to him, ordering for both you and herself. Your heart fluttered. She oozed confidence, as if there was no doubt in your mind that she was charming you.

She was.

A green cocktail was placed down in front of you, the gin and tonic she’d ordered far simpler than your drink. She waited for you to try it before she sipped from her own drink, humming low in her throat. You shuddered, sweetness bursting on your tongue from the sugar rim on the glass. You licked some away, watching the way her eyes darkened as she watched your tongue drag along the glass.

“Are you enjoying it, sweet girl?” she asked.

You nodded, “thank you. You didn’t have to.”

“Let me spoil you,” she said, hand landing on your leg.

Her thumb brushed the inside of your thigh, your skin almost electrified under her touch. She lent towards you, her nails digging in just enough to feel the sting. Heat coursed through your veins. You found yourself leaning towards her too, not able to stop yourself.

“Would you like to be spoiled, sweet girl?” she asked in almost a whisper.

Your mouth turned dry, knowing you definitely weren’t reading too much into her words now. Her eyes drifted down, lingering on your cleavage, shown to great effect in your dress. Her hand shifted up, just an inch, making you shiver.

“Well?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Yes please,” you breathed.

Any reason to say no was gone from your head. That fact she was friends with your mom didn’t even register. All you could focus on was the heat pooling in your stomach and the brush of her thumb over the vulnerable skin of your inner thigh. Your teeth sunk into your lower lip, her eyes finding it, focusing as she lent forward even closer, breath ghosting over your skin.

“Hey, who’s this?”

An arm was slung around your shoulders, your friend, Rachel, leaning against you. Billie lent back, hand slipping to rest on your knee. You had to press your lips together to keep your whimper inside, not able to live down the thought of your friend hearing you.

“This is Billie, she’s uh… she’s a friend of mom’s,” you replied.

“Wait, shit, I know you. You’re that psychic off the tv,” Rachel said.

“Medium,” she replied, voice much colder than when it had been directed at you.

“You talk to ghosts and shit,” she said, voice loud from right beside your ear.

“I do,” she replied, tilting her chin up, looking down her nose at your friend.

“That’s crazy,” she said, “you actually think you’re talking to ghosts?”

“I am actually talking to ghosts,” she replied, sounding icier than you’d ever heard her.

“Crazy,” she said again, awed by her supposed insanity.

“Well, it was lovely seeing you,” she said to you.

She rose from the stool she’d been sitting in, leaving your heart thumping wildly. She gave you one lingering look before leaving you be with Rachel. Your friend swooped in, stealing her seat, leaning towards you with her forearms resting on the bar.

“Were you trying to go home with her?” she asked.

“What?” you laughed.

“Celebrity fucking. Are you in on it? Because if you are I think Matthew is winning on that front. He got a Kardashian,” she said, “but hey, I get it. You have to start somewhere. Work up to the big guns.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked, indignation beginning to rise.

“Start with some insignificant woman with a show before you move on to the hot ones. She’ll be easy, I bet. Probably a good ego boost to have someone so young pursuing her. I doubt she’s fucked anyone in ages,” she said before clicking to get the barman’s attention.

“I’m gonna…” You didn’t bother finishing your sentence before you walked off, leaving her to order more drinks.

Outside, you found her again, leaning against the wall, cigarette between fingers, smoke curling out of her mouth. You watched her for a moment, letting your eyes linger on the way her lips pursed, the clinging silk blouse, the long fingers brought to her mouth then away again.

“You’re staring,” she said.

“You’re beautiful,” you replied, then immediately worried you’d been too bold.

She turned to look at you, looking less than impressed at your answer. You clasped your hands together behind your back, not wanting her to see you fidgeting. You swallowed past the lump in your throat.

“I’m sorry about her,” you said, “I don’t think you’re crazy.”

“Many do,” she said.

“Billie,” you breathed out, stepping closer to her until the scent of her cigarette wrapped around you, “I don’t. I think there’s plenty out there we can’t explain and who am I to say if ghosts exist. What I do know is that I’ve been thinking about you since we met.”

She softened, turning her body towards you. You reached out, fingers brushing over the back of her hand. She stubbed her cigarette out on the wall, dropping it into the bin just behind you. In one motion, she curled her arm around your waist, pulling you closer until your body brushed against hers.

“And what have you been thinking when you think about me?” she asked.

“About how you taste,” you groaned.

She grasped your chin, acrylics digging in to the skin of your cheeks. She pulled you forward, breath ghosting over your lips. You finally let yourself whimper. Her smile stretched.

“How can I deny you, sweet girl?” she murmured.

Her lips brushed against yours, tantalising, almost teasing, barely there but making your heart pound and your knees grow weak. Your hands slid along her hips, wanting to pull her closer, wanting to feel her body against yours. She drew back, her hand still holding your chin, keeping you from leaning towards her again.

“How was that?” she asked.

You shook your head, trying to dip back in. She held you tight enough to make you whine, refusing to give you what you wanted.

“Use your words, sweet girl,” she said.

“More,” you whined, “I want more.”

The door to the bar opened, the chatter from inside leaking out. She looked over your shoulder at the couple leaving, a blank mask falling over her face. Dragging her eyes back to you, she softened again.

“Let me take you home, sweet girl,” she said, “say I can have you for the rest of the night.”

“Yeah,” you sighed, “you can have me as long as you want.”

“Careful or I might just end up keeping your forever,” she warned.

You were finding it hard to see that as a bad thing.

She called for a car, keeping one hand on your body, thumb stroking over skin until you were a trembling mess. In the back seat of the car, her hand was slow as it slid up your thigh, keeping up a conversation with the driver, practically ignoring you. You were biting down on your lip, trying to keep silent. Her eyes flashed over to you, glittering when she noticed your struggle. Her thumb passed so close to your heat if you’d shifted your hips just an inch, she could have been touching your panty covered core. Even with the material in the way, you were sure she’d be able to feel how wet you were.

The car pulled up outside a nice home, two stories and large enough for a family to live in. Billie held the door open for you to slide out, her hand settling on the small of your back, leading you up the porch. She pushed the door open, waiting for you to step inside.

“Would you like a drink, sweet girl?” she asked, closing the door.

You’d been expecting her to be on you the moment the door was closed, but instead all she did was trail her fingers along your shoulders before leaving you be. You followed behind, disappoint curling in your gut. Your eyes drifted down to her swaying hips, skirt only accentuating her figure.

She flicked on the light in her kitchen, a wide wall of windows staring back. You followed, not sure what else to do. Reaching above her head, she pulled down a wine glass, only one, before turning back towards you. Her eyes swept over you, from head to toe, smile curling up one corner of her lips.

“You didn’t answer,” she said.

“No.” You shook your head, “I think if I have any more you’ll be taking advantage of me.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” she replied.

She poured herself a glass of white wine, pulled straight from her fridge. She took a sip from it, watching you as she did. Her tongue dragged along her lower lip, catching a drop of stray wine. You made a small noise, her smirk only growing.

“Billie,” you whined, your self respect long since gone. All you wanted was her hands on your bare skin, not this waiting game she was forcing you to play.

“Yes, sweet girl?” she asked.

“Please,” you begged, “I need you.”

“Do you?” She raised an eyebrow at you.

“Yes.”

She placed her glass of wine down before taking a step towards you. With strong hands, she lifted you onto the counter, stepped between your parted legs. Her hands were sliding up the skin of your thigh, making you shiver.

“How’s this?” she asked.

“Uh huh,” you replied, beyond words just from her touch.

Her nose skimmed along your jaw, making your breath hitch. Your legs tightened around her, pinning her there as you whimpered. Her lips were soft as they pressed to your skin, head falling back to give her more access. Her tongue flicked out, tasting you with a soft hum. Your fingers clenched around the edge of the marble countertop, breath already ragged.

Her nails scraped along your skin, pushing up underneath your dress. You would have torn it from your body if she asked, uncaring of anything but giving her more access to you. Her teeth scraped along your skin before sinking in just enough for the sting to be pleasurable. Tongue swiping over it, you could feel her smile against your throat at the strangled noise you made. The way she sucked on your pulse point had your head growing fuzzy.

Your hands found their home on her shoulders, fingers curling as you tried to haul her closer. The throbbing between your legs was insistent but ignored by her. You wanted to reel her in, press against her, rub yourself against her like an animal. Her nails were scraping along your skin, drawing patterns on your skin in a way that had you shivering.

“Billie,” you gasped out, “please.”

“Sorry, sweet girl,” she murmured against your skin, “I can’t get enough of your taste.”

Her tongue swirled again, her soft sigh making you burn. Your fingers curled in her hair, tugging until you were leaning towards her, breath ghosting over her skin. She looked up from under eyelashes, coquettish and innocent, undone by the twist of her lips.

You kissed her, no longer just a brush of lips, all innocence gone. You groaned into her mouth, fingers tightening on blonde curls, tongue licking into her mouth. She allowed you, nails digging into your skin as you did your best to taste her, to explore, to delve deeper until you couldn’t remember what it was to not be kissing her. The taste of wine and cigarettes lingered on her tongue, something sweeter and deeper underneath.

You moaned, chasing her taste, wanting to burn it into your brain until nothing else remained. She was forcing your legs further apart, fingers on your inner thighs, stroking closer and closer to your heated core. She chuckled into your mouth when you whined, hips shifting, trying to urge her on.

Desperate lips trailed down your neck again, nipping at skin. Your fingers, still buried in her hair, clenched, pressing her closer, your pleas ignored as she took her time. Her teeth sunk in as her index finger ghosted over your centre. The noise that came from you had your cheeks heating before your embarrassment was washed away by the need for her touch.

Her finger stroked over you again, still over the top of your underwear. She was sucking another bruise onto your skin, her teeth and her tongue only making you desperate for more. Her finger pressed down, finding your clit through your panties. Her name was a strangled noise, back arching towards her.

“You’re so wet, sweet girl,” she said, “god, you’ve soaked right through.”

You whimpered as she continued to circle it, tortuously slow. She pulled back, eyes sweeping over your face, watching you. Her other hand slipped from under your dress, soft as it drifted up your body. You arched into her touch when she found your breast, begging her for more. She ignored you, hand continuing up until fingers rested on your throat, thumb stroking over the point she’d been sucking on before.

“Do you know how pretty you are?” she asked you, those dark eyes smouldering up at you, “you make such lovely noises for me.”

“Billie,” you whimpered, “Billie please.”

“I like when you beg, sweet girl,” she said, “do it again.”

“Please,” you whined.

“Good girl.”

That only made you tremble, heat coursing through you. From her delighted smile, she seemed to realise the effect her words had on you. Her fingers pushed aside your underwear, fingers swiping through your folds. The sound that came from you was high pitched, hips bucking up against her touch.

The hand around your throat tightened, for just a moment, long enough to make fire burn through you. She tugged you forward, kissing you, teeth sinking into your lower lip. You were aching for her, needing her more than you’d needed anyone before.

Fingers were slow to circle your clit, as if testing how far she could push you before she drove you insane. She drew back, watching you as your chest heaved, skin heating, eyes begging her for more. Lips pulled up into a smirk, the older woman slowing her movements until you felt tears prick in your eyes.

“You’re so pretty for me,” she said, “look how responsive you are. Such a good girl.”

“Billie,” you whined.

“I could watch you like this for hours,” she said.

“Please,” you begged, “please, Billie, I need-“

Her thumb ground against your clit, your words breaking off into a strangled moan. Her delight was enough to let you know you would be given no easy release. You tugged on her hair.

“Do you enjoy that, sweet girl?” she asked, so innocent, as if she wasn’t watching you fall apart in front of her.

Her thumb slipped from your clit, leaving you with the slow circling again, tortuous and maddening. You let out a shaky breath, fingers tightening in her blonde curls.

“I bet you taste sweet,” she murmured, “will you let me taste you, sweet girl?”

“Yes,” you babbled, “please. Oh god, please, Billie. I need you.”

Her hand slipped from your throbbing cunt, making you whine in protest. The hand resting around your throat slid down. Both tugged on the hem of your dress, dragging it up your body. You let her pull it from your body, flinging it aside as her eyes roved over your bare skin and lacy lingerie.

“Who did you wear these pretty things for, sweet girl?” she asked, finger running along the lace of your bra, “was there someone you were hoping would see these?”

“No,” you replied, feeling breathless.

“Don’t lie to me, sweet girl,” she warned.

Her dark eyes met yours and you could see it, swimming in her eyes, no matter how she was trying to hide it. The jealousy. The anger. The thought you’d dressed up for anyone but her. A sense of power flooded your body. To have such an effect on her, to make her feel that way, it was mind blowing for you.

“No one but you,” you said, tugging her closer, “I’ve been thinking of no one else since I met you.”

“You say such lovely things,” she said.

Her hands cupped your breasts, thumbs swiping over your nipples. Your breath stuttered and she lent down, lips ghosting along your skin. Her tongue dipped into the divot between your collarbones, stealing both your breath and your sanity. You moaned her name, arching towards her mouth.

Sliding her hands around your ribs, she unhooked your bra. Her lips continued down before wrapping around one nipple. Your mouth fell open around a silent moan. She wasn’t soft, her sharp suck making you tighten your fingers in her hair. Her tongue flicked over it, making you arch into her, asking for more.

Her nails scraped over your skin, down over your ribs, past the dip of your waist, over the curve of your hips. They hooked into your underwear, pulling them off you. Down your legs and flung aside, you did your best to help her, wanting that tongue where your throbbing heat was.

Lips trailed down your body, leaving your nipples behind despite your whimper. She took her time, lingering on every inch of skin she found. Her tongue would smooth over where her teeth scraped, heat following in her wake. You sighed at the first swipe of it through your folds. Your head fell back, fingers tightening in her hair. She hummed, pressing closer, tongue teasing your entrance.

She wrapped her lips around your clit, tongue flicking over it, then again when you moaned her name. It wasn’t going to take much, not from the way she’d been teasing you all night. And not from the way you’d been fantasising about her all week. The reality was much better than you could have imagined.

And in your imagination she’d been spectacular.

You gasped her name when she began to suck on your bundle of nerves, her hands pushing your legs even further apart. Spread out on her kitchen counter, face buried between your legs, feasting on you, it was as if all your dreams were coming true. She moaned, the vibrations rocketing through your body. Her name was a prayer on your lips and felt yourself coming apart. Her dark eyes looked up your body, catching yours and the way she was watching was like you were fulfilling all of her fantasies too.

The flat of her tongue pressed against your clit. You were writhing under her touch, begging her for release. Her fingers tightened on your thighs until you were sure she’d be leaving bruises for you to find the next day. She moaned again and it was enough.

If you were asked about it, you wouldn’t say you screamed her name, fingers tightening in her hair until you were pulling it. But you did. And she looked like the cat that got the cream because of it.

She cleaned you up with her tongue before she lent back, staring up at you, lips smirking. You pulled her up, kissing her with the kind of abandon you hadn’t let yourself have earlier. She chuckled into your mouth until your legs were tightening around her and your hands were sliding down her body and she began to moan.

“I want to touch you,” you murmured into her mouth, “please let me touch you.”

“I really can’t deny you anything,” she replied, pulling back, “perhaps somewhere comfortable though? I don’t bounce back like I once did.”

Her hand slipped into yours, helping you off the counter. Her eyes trailed over your body for a moment, appreciation filling her face as she took her time studying you. You flushed under her gaze, surprised by how much you liked her looking at you. Where usually you didn’t languish in nudity, the way she was staring made you feel powerful, desirable, stupidly sexy.

She led you further into the house, up the stairs, into a plush bedroom. The carpet underfoot was soft and the bed was huge. She sat on the edge of it, pulling you forward until you were stood between her legs. Leaning down, you threaded your fingers through her hair again, tilting her head up and kissing her until you felt her begin to relax.

You climbed onto her lap, knees either side of her hips. She hummed into your mouth, fingers trailing over your skin until the fire within you reignited. You pushed her back, feeling more than hearing the way she laughed against your lips.

“You’re so beautiful,” you whispered, drawing back to look down at her.

Her eyes brightened and there was a faint flush on her cheeks. Your fingers were careful as you began to unbutton her blouse, exposing tantalising inches of skin to your hungry gaze. Your tongue dragged along your bottom lip as you watched the silk slip from her shoulders. She pulled you down into another kiss, hot and insistent.

Your hands were gentle, fingertips trailing along her skin. It was so soft, and it only made you want more of her. With your tongue in her mouth, you reached behind her, unclasping the bra, pulling it from her body. You trailed your lips down, taking your time to worship every inch you came into contact with. Her fingers found their way into your hair, pressing you closer. You slid down her body, needing a better angle if you were to make her moan your name.

Your tongue tasted her skin, swirling over a nipple, smiling when you felt her arch up towards you. She murmured praise, practically a sigh. Your hands reached for her skirt, slow to unzip it and push it over her hips. She kicked it away before your hand ran up the outside of her thigh. You could feel her warmth practically radiating towards you.

“I can’t get enough of you,” you murmured into her skin.

“You feel so good, sweet girl,” she gasped when your lips made contact with her again.

You pushed her panties aside, slow to touch her, wanting to draw it out as long as possible. If you gave in too quickly you’d take too much. You wanted her falling apart, the way you had, until your name was burned on her tongue.

You collected her wetness, running a finger through her folds. Her breathing stuttered, chest heaving against your mouth. You circled her clit, slow as you lent back, watching her face contort in pleasure. Her lips were smiling, eyes fluttering shut. Your hand slipped down again, finger hovering at her entrance. She looked up at you again.

“Can I?” you asked.

“If you don’t, I’ll be sorely disappointed,” she replied, voice husky.

You smiled down at her, spread out beneath you. With strong hand you tore her underwear off, biting down on her pulse point. Your fingers found her entrance again, lingering just a moment before you pushed in, her arousal making it easier than you would have thought. A soft sigh fell through parted lips and her eyelids fluttered shut again.

Slowly pumping in and out of her you waited until her annoyed gaze found you again. You grinned, pressing a second finger in. You curled them and your name was nothing but a filthy moan on her lips.

You stroked her, thumb finding her clit again. She was writing under your touch, hips rocking against your hand, small noises coming from her. Her hands were fisting her comforter and there was a flush over her chest.

You watched her fall apart beneath you. Her internal walls clamped down on your fingers, your name a breathless sigh, fingers tightening, body going still. You eased her through it, drawing it out as long as you could. Her muscles relaxed, looking up at you with a sleepy smile. You removed your hands from between her legs, tongue lapping at your fingers, tasting her on your skin.

Her eyes began to smoulder, looking up at you. With grasping hands she pulled you down, unbalancing you until both your hands landed either side of her head, catching your weight before you crushed her. She drew you down into a kiss, stealing your breath, sending your head reeling all over again.

“You’re a dream, sweet girl,” she murmured against your lips, “I’m never letting you go.”

You kissed her again before rolling off her, sitting on her plush comforter. Her fingers trailed up your bare thigh, making you shiver under her touch.

“Are you tired?” she asked, voice low, like a whisper caressing over your skin.

“No,” you replied.

“Then let me wear you out, sweet girl.”

When you woke in the morning, the bed was empty, still warm under your touch and more comfortable than the twin bed you’d been sleeping in for the last few months. You sat up, stretching your aching body before brushing the sleep from your eyes. The slant of light said it was late morning. Unsurprising, given Billie had kept you up until the early hours of the morning. The scent of coffee was on the air and you smiled, hearing someone moving downside.

You hunted through the room, finding a soft cashmere sweater. Pulling it on, it hit mid thigh, just enough to cover you but not enough to not be tempting to the insatiable woman. On bare feet you padded down the stairs. Rounding the banister, following your nose, you practically skipped into the kitchen.

You stumbled to a halt, finding a familiar face staring back at you, eyes widening in surprise. Billie turned in her seat, lips quirking up into a smile as her eyes swept over your body.

“Mom?”

You felt your face heat up, taking a step back. She was sitting at the kitchen island, the exact island you’d been sitting on, naked, just a few hours before.

“Darling, what are you doing here?” she asked, “did you spend the night here?”

“Uh…” You looked to Billie, not sure how to answer, “yeah I did.”

“I hope you didn’t bother Billie. She was meant to meet me this morning but when she didn’t show up I had to come hunt her down,” she said.

“She was no bother,” Billie replied, smiling at you over the rim of her coffee cup.

“I thought I was interrupting you after a wild night of passion,” your mother laughed, “with all those clothes scattered around your kitchen.”

“I should… go,” you said, not wanting to think about Billie telling your mother about your night with her.

Only your clothes were bundled up on the counter and you had no way of getting them without making it clear Billie’s night of passion had included you.

“You didn’t interrupt them, did you darling?” she asked, a tinkling laugh tacked on to the end.

“Hardly,” Billie replied.

Your mother was smiling at you and you were frozen and Billie was being no help. You stared helplessly back before your mother’s eyes darted to Billie then the pile of clothes then back to you. You held your breath.

“Darling, you didn’t,” she sighed.

“I… It wasn’t…” You didn’t know how to even begin to end those sentences.

“It appears as if we’ve been busted,” Billie said.

She stood from her barstool, sauntering towards you. Looping an arm around your waist, she pulled you into her body, brushing some of your hair behind your ear. It was so tender, nothing like the seduction you’d experienced the night before. Still, you shivered, her touch enough to set you off.

“If you were jealous of me having a friend there were more productive ways of going about getting my attention,” your mother said, interrupting your moment.

“What?” You looked over to her.

“We could have just had a conversation, darling,” she said.

“You think I…” It was hard to wrap your head around, “do you seriously think I slept with Billie to get your attention?”

“What other possible reason could you have?” she asked.

You felt Billie stiffen against you. You curled your arm around her, wanting to shield her from your mother’s accusations. Glaring at her, you hardened.

“Maybe because I wanted to. God, Mom, not everything is about you,” you said.

“Alright, I’ll play along with your little fantasy,” she said, giving you one of those indulgent smiles you remembered from childhood, “but darling, until you choose to grow up and act like an adult, not everyone is going to be so forgiving.”

“I think you should go,” you said, voice hardening.

“Why on earth would I do that, darling?” she asked.

“Because I’m hoping Billie will fuck me over the top of that counter your sitting at and it’ll be a little awkward if you’re still here when she does,” you replied.

Your mother’s face blanched of colour and she was quick to climb to her feet, muttering something about another meeting she had to get to as she hustled out of there. Billie didn’t bother saying anything, only watching her leave as you kept her close to you. The door slammed behind her retreating back.

“You didn’t have to do that for me,” she murmured.

“Do what?” you asked, looking down at her, “I’m free all day and would quite like it if you fucked me on every available surface in this house.”

She kissed you, long and deep, laughing into your mouth. You pulled her closer, your hands finding her hips as you guided her into the kitchen, pressing her against the kitchen island.

“If you do, I’ll return the favour,” you said.

“You don’t have to convince me,” she murmured, “I’d do anything you asked of me, sweet girl.”

And so she did.

#fic rec #billie dean howard x reader

260 notes · View notes

angelxsarahp · 4 months

Text

Not Jealous (Cordelia Goode x f!Reader)

Synopsis: Clearly Cordelia does not feel the same way you feel about her.

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: jealousy, assumptions of unrequited love

You knew there was no reason to be jealous. Of course not. Cordelia wasn’t yours. It didn’t matter how you felt about her. There was no point denying your feelings for the Supreme, but that wasn’t the same as having them reciprocated. So you had no right to feel the churning of jealousy in your gut.

Until…

You looked up from the book you were reading, zeroing in on the two woman standing just outside the door. Cordelia’s hand was resting on Misty’s arm, leaning towards her as they talked softly. Your fingers clenched on your book. Taking a deep breath in, you paused, counting to ten in your head before letting it go again.

There was no reason to be jealous.

Misty said something, too quiet for you to hear. Cordelia tipped her head back, her laughter ringing through the room. You stilled, watching her, your eyes slipping over her body, taking in the long column of her neck, the shine of her hair, the curve of her lips. That was your laugh, the one you received when you amused her.

You inhaled sharply, closing your book and slipping out of the room. You couldn’t watch anymore. You couldn’t

There was no reason to be jealous.

Yeah right. Ever since Misty had come back it was like you had to fight for Cordelia’s attention. She’d stopped noticing you. Where once she sought your company, you’d been replaced. She didn’t have time for you. The shared smiles had stop, transferred to another. She’d stopped having time for you, all taken up by the returning witch. You noticed all the ways you were being pushed out, replaced without so much as a word.

What you didn’t notice was the way her eyes followed you out of the room.

You found a quiet spot in the garden to curl up with your book, doing your best to slip back into the words. It was hard, the image of the woman you’d stupidly fallen for as she fell for another kept playing on repeat in your head.

Every touch, every smile, every glance. You’d seen it over and over again. She was slipping further from you with every breath, every brush of fingers over arms, every cupped cheek. The distance was growing and you didn’t know how to stop it. You didn’t even know if it was worth trying.

Clouds were gathering overhead, blotting out the sun. You shivered as the air turned chilly, curling up further on the bench you were sitting on. You tipped your head back, leaving the pretence of reading behind. Closing your eyes, you basked in the memory of how it had been.

You missed the touch of her skin against yours, the way her eyes sparkled whenever you spoke to her, the soft laugh in the middle of the night when she caught you still up reading. You wanted her soft sigh as she directed you to bed, a hand on the small of your back, making sure you climbed into bed and turned the light off. You missed the way she’d pass you a cup of tea in the morning, knowing glint in her eye, fingers brushing against the back of your hand.

A cold drop of rain landed on your forehead. You sighed, picking up your book as another drop fell. You tipped your head back for one last moment, letting the water fall over you, sprinkling on your skin. Shivering, you took a deep breath in, trying to let the rain wash away the jealousy and the pain and the hurt.

It didn’t work.

Wandering back into the house, you didn’t care at the way the rain began to fall harder, only aiming to shield the book. You shivered, uncaring of the puddle of water you were tracking inside. You left the book on the table, stroking over the still dry cover, before leaving it behind. You trailed water through the house as you trudged up to your room.

Sitting in the bath with your arms curled around your knees, you watched the steam curl in the air. On a long exhalation you shaped it into hearts before they broke apart in a shattered kaleidoscope of painful shards. You don’t know how long you sat there, trying to warm the chill that had settled deep in your bones. Maybe you needed something more than a hot bath.

On bare feet, you padded into your room only to freeze as the door closed behind you.

“There you are,” Cordelia said, her voice soft enough to make you groan.

You didn’t know what to say. It had been a while since you’d seen her there, in your room, looking as if she belonged. You pressed your lips together, backing up until your spine was pressed against the door. In nothing but your robe, you felt exposed, vulnerable, like you’d left your armour behind.

“I was worried you’d melted in the rain,” she said, giving you a half small.

“No,” you said, “just having a bath.”

“You were drenched out there,” She took a step towards you, her hands clasped in front of her body, “you left something behind.”

Your book, the one you’d left in the kitchen as you’d rushed upstairs, was clutched in her hand. You opened your mouth to say something, then closed it again. The thought of her noticing you enough to know you’d been out in the rain sent an ache through your chest. She took another step towards you, holding the book out to you. You shook your head, pressing harder against the door.

“What’s wrong?” She seemed to wilt under your gaze.

“Nothing,” you said, voice so small you were surprised it still existed, “thank you for returning the book but I think I’m done with it.”

“You’ve read it?” she asked.

You shook your head. A love story wasn’t really what you were looking for. If you really wanted that you just had to watch Cordelia with Misty. Which only made you want to throw up.

“Darling, talk to me,” she said, taking one more step towards you.

“I’m just tired,” you said, not able to meet her eyes, “maybe you should go.”

Fingers tilted your chin up and you had to hold back tears. The touch of her skin against yours was what you’d been yearning for, wishing for, praying for. You tried to pull back but she held on, her grip tightening to keep you from moving away. You wanted it but not like this.

“If you really want me to go, I will,” she said, “but I’d rather stay and talk to you.”

“I’m sure you have other people you can talk to.” You hadn’t meant to sound so bitter about it.

Something in her face shifted. You held your breath, not wanting her to see the real reason, the embarrassment of it more than you’d be able to handle. She let you go, turning to walk to the bed, placing the book down on the bedside table. You could feel yourself trembling, still pressed against the door.

“You’ve been distant lately,” she said, fingertips running over your comforter.

“I…” You didn’t have a proper answer for her.

“I’m beginning to wonder if I’ve done something wrong. If I have I wish you’d tell me. I don’t like the thought of upsetting you,” she said. The way she looked at you with barely contained regret was not an expression you ever wanted to see on her face.

“You haven’t,” you said.

“Then why have you been avoiding me?”

That wide eyed stare swimming in sadness was not one that made you feel any better. Your heart clenched and you would have done anything to make her feel better.

But the accusation was ridiculous. You hadn’t been avoiding her. She’d been spending all her time with Misty, choosing someone else’s presence over yours. You’d thought… Well, what you’d thought wasn’t important anymore.

“I haven’t,” you said, “you’ve just been busy.”

“I’m never too busy for you,” she said, voice so soft it could break you in half.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. Just because she believed it didn’t mean it was true. Hands cupped your cheeks, forcing you to look at her and all those old feelings came swooping back in. Your heart skipped a beat and it didn’t matter that resentment had been building in your chest for weeks now. You’d always fall at her feet, even if she didn’t love you the way you loved her.

“Please. I’ve missed you,” she said.

You bit down on your lower lip, trying to keep all of the ugly thoughts inside. Her eyes flicked down to it, a thumb gently pulling it free. Your breath stuttered and you had no idea how to function with her so close, touching you in ways you could only dream of.

“Darling…” she breathed.

“I know how you feel about Misty,” you blurted out before it could go any further than it already had.

She blinked, drawing back far enough for you to be able to breath properly again. Her hands were still on your face but the look she was giving you was baffled, as if your words hadn’t made sense.

“What?” she asked.

“I know you’re in love with her,” you said, “so you probably shouldn’t be touching me like this.”

“You think I’m in love with Misty? Our Misty?” She sounded so confused.

“I don’t think. I know you are. I’ve seen you with her and I’m not an idiot. It’s obvious,” you said, wondering if you should be pushing her away as she wasn’t moving on her own.

“I’m not in love with Misty,” she said with a small shake of her head.

“You don’t have to lie to me just to spare my feelings,” you said, “seriously, it’s fine.”

“And while that’s good to know, it’s not a lie. She’s not who I’m in love with,” she said.

Your mouth slammed shut as words failed you. She moved forward again, her palms practically burning the skin of your face. You didn’t know what to do, frozen beneath her hands and her gaze, heart thundering loud in your ears.

“Darling?” she prompted.

“So you are in love with someone?” you asked.

You didn’t know whether to feel sick or hopeful. Maybe sick from being so hopeful.

“I am,” she confirmed, “but it’s not Misty.”

“Who is it?” Your voice didn’t feel your own.

“I thought it was obvious,” she said.

“It’s not,” you replied, shaking your head.

“It’s you, my darling girl,” she said, “you’re the one I’m in love with.”

You didn’t have words. She was smiling at you, the soft one that always made your stomach somersault and your heart flutter. You swallowed past a lump in your throat, not quite able to believe the words she was saying. All your hopes hung on her and it scared you.

“I am?” you asked.

“Of course you are.” Her fingers pushed your hair behind your ear, lingering on your jaw, “you’re the one I want.”

You were hesitant as you brought your hands to her waist. She was so warm under your skin, so soft. Her head dipped, breath ghosting over your lips.

“I want you,” she murmured, lips brushing yours, “only you.”

You kissed her, surging up, pressing yourself to her. You couldn’t stop yourself, needing her with every fibre of your being. She pushed you against the door, pinning you to it, her tongue slipping into your mouth. The taste of her had you moaning, head turning fuzzy.

Her fingers pushed into your hair, tilting your head up as she kissed you deeper. You whimpered, arms curling around her body, holding her against you. She mumbled your name into your mouth, slowing the kiss down, taking her time to explore. You melted under her touch.

“My sweet girl,” she murmured, “my darling girl.”

Her nose brushed against yours, skimming the length of your jaw, lips ghosting over your skin. You were practically vibrating under her, strung so tight, wanting every part of her.

“I’m hoping this means you return my feelings,” she said.

“Yes,” you gasped, “yes, so much. Oh god, so much, Delia.”

“That’s a relief,” she chuckled, drawing back far enough to be able to look at you. Her thumb traced over your bottom lip, smile deepening when you pressed a kiss to it, “so there’s no reason to be jealous.”

“I wasn’t jealous,” you muttered.

“Darling.” She threaded her fingers through yours, tugging you away from the door, “you left every room both Misty and I were in. You sat as far away from me as you could. You stopped showing up for our late night tea.”

“I thought you had someone else you’d prefer to be with,” you said.

“You were jealous,” she said.

“I… was jealous,” you admitted.

Her hands cupped your cheeks, pulling you in for another kiss, shorter than you would have liked. You whined when she drew back, her chuckle making your cheeks heat.

“You have nothing to be jealous of,” she told you.

“It just looked like… I mean you were always with her,” you tried to explain, “and you touched her like you touch me. You didn’t have time for me anymore.”

“I’m sorry for making you feel that way, darling,” she said, pulling you closer until she could wrap you in her arms, “I always have time for you. It was never my intention to make you feel like I didn’t.”

“Are you saying you’ll make it up to me?” you asked, muffled against her shoulder.

“And what might you want, my darling girl?” You could hear the amusement in her voice.

Your lips found her neck and her breathy laugh had heat curling in your stomach. She was gentle as she pushed you back, a flush high on her cheeks and bright eyes looking down on you. You pouted but with her hands on your shoulders she kept you back.

“There’ll be plenty of time for that,” she said, “but dinner will be soon and I’d rather not be interrupted.”

“But-“

She placed her finger over your lips, silencing you more effectively than you could have thought possible. Her smile softened and she stepped closer again, encasing you in a cocoon of her warmth and the scent of her perfume.

“Later, darling. You get dressed. I’ll see you downstairs,” she said.

You nodded. She let you go, stepping around you. She turned at your door, hand on the handle, eyes scanning over you again. You looked back at her, warmth flooding through your veins.

“Oh, and I love you,” she said.

“I love you too,” you whispered.

She gave you a radiant smile and slipped from your room, leaving you alone once again. You stared at the door for a moment, not able to believe your luck.

As it turned out, there really was no reason to be jealous.

#fic rec #cordelia goode x reader

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angelxsarahp · 6 months

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Chapter Forty-Six: Thulian.

Tag List: @mayfair-fleur @mistysswampmud @paulsonsratched @msvenablx @notmeellaannyy @rwoolfe @golddustdykes @lovingsarah @slut-for-sarah @geinobinarie (message me to be added if interested!)

“Yes.” With her heart starting to go back to its normal speed, Wilhemina took a deep breath. She’s… out of this world. “You can help me if I get lost.”

“Always.” Billie smiled as she caressed Venable’s knee.

Always. Wilhemina bit her lower lip. I shouldn’t be in love so fast. Chuckling to herself, she turned the car on and began to drive. As they stopped at a red light, Venable reached to caress Billie’s hand. It was still astonishing to Wilhemina just how organic Billie Dean’s touch was… she was driving with someone’s hand on her knee and it felt natural. When had she ever stopped to think about that ever being a possibility in her life? The light soon turned green again. The silence between them was comfortable, with only small comments being shared until they eventually got to Billie Dean’s house.

“You remembered it perfectly,” Billie said softly as Venable began to park right in front of the mansion. With a small smile, Wilhemina nodded. Billie Dean bit her lower lip as she was suddenly reminded of the mess her house was. She’ll think I’m absolutely filthy. Billie was definitely not the most organized person in the planet, but she was far from being grimy. A weird type of nervousness crawled inside of Billie Dean. “Um,” she nervously licked her lips as they unbuckled and stepped out of the car. “Eleanor was supposed to have come yesterday, but because of the party I asked her not to…” Wilhemina eyed Billie as they walked to the huge gate, not quite understanding what she meant just yet. “It’s a bit messy,” Billie Dean added.

Oh. Venable bit her inner cheek in order to hold back a grin. Billie was worried about what she’d think of her… that was strangely sweet. “It’s okay,” she shook it off. Billie Dean’s house was Billie Dean’s house, she had nothing to do with it.

I didn’t wash the dishes and I’m sure the living room is a mess. Billie was already embarrassed, and they hadn’t even stepped inside yet. Wilhemina was so organized and had everything perfectly placed in her house, Billie Dean was sure it was going to be a contrast. Will she be less attracted to me because of it? No, that was a stupid thought… her house wasn’t even that messy, to start with. Pushing the huge front door open, Billie stepped aside for Venable to get in. “There it is.”

With her cane tapping on the marble floor, Wilhemina looked around almost in awe; not because the house was huge—it definitely was—but because it was Billie Dean’s. And it screamed Billie Dean. The couches on the living room were white leather, and all the furniture and decorations had a light palette to them, variating from blue to coral to pink. There were a few awards in a huge shelf as well as some books and pictures, and the room was bathing in natural sunlight from the huge windows it had. The pillows on the couch were far from being neatly placed though, and there was a trashcan right in the middle of the living room. Weird. In other times, Venable would have judged; would have thought about how a grown woman had the nerve to keep her house anything other than perfectly tidy. But Wilhemina had been learning a thing or two about being so strict. “It’s a gorgeous living room, indeed.”

“Why, thank you.” Billie Dean had already kicked her shoes off, stepping inside to try and make it more presentable; she grabbed the pillows and set them straight, as well as reaching for the trashcan and pushing it to the corner. “I’m sorry, they were doing my makeup for the party in here and I assumed having a trashcan was easier than allowing trash to collect.” Venable nodded. “It’s usually not that messy,” Billie harped on the same string again. “Eleanor comes three times a week, on Monday she should be here.”

“It’s okay,” Wilhemina repeated, and this time she allowed a tiny smile to lift up the corners of her lips. “It’s not that bad.”

A chuckle left Billie Dean’s cheeks as she finally let go of the pillows—they were still not perfectly placed. “You haven’t seen the kitchen.”

“Show me?”

With another chuckle, Billie nodded. She reached for Venable’s hand and guided her there. As they stepped into the room, honey eyes grew wide as she was reminded of all the frozen pizza she had eaten, for the boxes were stacked in the corner of the room near the trashcan, and two or three plates lay dirty on the sink as well as a few glasses. “I should have kept my mouth shut,” she murmured shyly.

Wilhemina would never, in a million years, accept her kitchen to look like that… good thing it wasn’t her kitchen, right? A lens of sweetness covered her eyes as she looked at the jumble. In order to live, we must create some messes. Someone had told her that a few years ago. Probably her therapist. “That’s a lot of pizza,” she commented with a smile.

“I know!” Billie used her free hand to cover her reddening cheeks. “I was sad.”A hint of sadness touched the smile on Venable’s face. She squeezed Billie Dean’s hand, but didn’t say anything. Oh shit. Billie quickly changed the focus. “Would you—would you like a glass of water? I have juice, too, and wine if you’re feeling like it.”

“I’m alright, thank you.” They hadn’t had lunch already, wine was certainly not an option.

Billie Dean pulled away to grab a glass from the counter, filling it with water. “Are you sure? I might have some soda left, too.”

“I’m positive.” Wilhemina nodded.

Billie took a sip. “If you change your mind, please let me know.”

“I will.”

Finishing her glass, Billie Dean began to guide them to her bedroom, which was upstairs. As soon as Venable eyed the stairs, her hand gripped the cane harsher. She let go of Billie’s hand and reached for the handrail, holding it tightly as she tried to follow up as fast as possible. Billie Dean frowned as the hand let go of hers, looking back only to realize what was going on. Her heart sank for a second, and she wasn’t sure she should really say anything or just let it go. Should she ask if Wilhemina needed any help? Would that be appropriate? Would she feel bad? Billie bit her lip harshly as she slowly followed up, not wanting to rush in front of Wilhemina. “Do you—do you want help?” She asked hesitantly, stopping to look back at Venable once again.

Wilhemina’s knuckles turned white as her cheeks tinted red. She shamefully shook her head, soon holding it back up and making sure her posture was as neat as always. Want. Not need. Even though it probably wasn’t a conscious choice of words, Venable appreciated it. It made her feel less small, and Gosh was she feeling small right now. “No. Thank you.” She kept on taking step by step, leaning heavily on the cane as she did so. Brown eyes avoided honey ones. How is she in love with me? I’m broken. The voice was back again. Wilhemina’s jaw tensed up.

Billie nervously licked her lips and gave Venable a nod. She continued to slowly follow upstairs, eyes closing as she felt like drowning on how uncomfortable she felt. How should she act in situations like this? Why the fuck did I have to want two floors? There was no way past Billie Dean would have known, but she still somehow martyred herself over it. I’ll have to talk about that with her, some other time. Finally arriving upstairs, Billie offered a hand to Wilhemina again. “My bed is probably a mess,” she tried, hoping to make the awkwardness go away.

Inside her mind, Venable was back at fighting with the derogatory thoughts; they bombarded her. You’re broken. You’ll never be enough for her. You don’t deserve her. She’ll soon get tired of you. Her palm no longer felt good against Billie Dean’s, all of a sudden. No no no. Stop it. She forced her fingers to wrap around Billie’s. At the comment, she smiled the best she could and shook her head, trying to bring herself out of her inner turmoil. “It’s okay.”

As they stepped into Billie Dean’s bedroom, honey eyes grew in shame at the way her covers were all messily pilled up on the bed, and a glass or two stood on her nightstand. To top it all off, a plastic bag full of used tissues hung on one of the drawers. Fuck my life. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, quickly walking to grab the bag and shoving it inside the nightstand.

Watching Billie blush because of her caused all the voices inside Wilhemina’s head to lower a notch. She bit her lower lip, smiling a little. The room was a mess alright, but it was Billie Dean’s mess. “It’s okay,” she said, yet again.

“You must think I’m a nightmare to share a house with,” Billie Dean teased. Seriously, she probably does. Her cheeks kept on tinting.

Agreeing with Billie’s statement would have been Venable’s first reaction had she not known Billie Dean’s lifestyle. How was Billie supposed to keep a house this size tidy when she barely had time to sleep? That’s why she has a maid, after all. “You work a lot.” Yes, taking the glasses to the kitchen wouldn’t hurt, and having at least a trashcan to place the plastic bag inside was common decency, but Wilhemina decided to ignore that. Because frankly, she liked Billie too much for it to carry a heavy weight.

“It was a tough week,” Billie Dean breathed out without thinking much. Venable nodded, but didn’t say anything. “After seeing all this… am I still welcome to spend the night at your place?” She teased again. With a small chuckle and with her nerves finally giving up and starting to relax, Wilhemina nodded. “Yay,” Billie chuckled back. She took a step closer to Venable and lovingly pecked her lips, lingering there for a second. A hand sneaked around her waist, holding her there. Billie Dean smiled, gently pulling away. She stared at brown eyes, hands caressing Venable’s hips . “On a more serious note,” her voice was now a bit firmer. “I’m not that messy. I mean—I’m not that messy while sharing my space. I—I respect people’s boundaries. I wouldn’t mess your place, that’s what I mean.”

She’s nearly stumbling over her words. Wilhemina didn’t think she’d ever have that effect on someone—at least not in a good way. Most people stumbled over words because they were intimidated by her. With her smile spreading timidly, she nodded. And her hand made sure to caress the soft spot where it landed on Billie’s back. “I know. I’m not worried about that.” Mostly because she hadn’t stopped to think about that yet.

Billie Dean nodded and kissed her again. Her lips were as soft as one supposed a cloud would be. “Come on,” she barely whispered as she pulled away, grabbing Venable’s hand and guiding her into the closet. Wilhemina could barely believe how many clothes she saw there, not to mention Billie had shelves just for her shoes, purses and accessories, as well as a huge full body mirror and a large vanity. Billie Dean took her to a small couch in the middle of the room, and Venable quickly took a seat. With a smile, she bent down to kiss her once more. “I’ll just change and grab a few things.”

“It’s no rush,” Wilhemina murmured against Billie’s lips. They kissed again before Billie Dean finally pulled away.

“Oh,” she back down. “Can you unzip me?” Billie turned around. “I can do it myself, but since you’re here…”

“Of course.” Reaching up, Venable carefully pulled the delicate piece south. Her fingertips burned as freckled skin appeared underneath the material, revealing more and more of Billie. She gulped, pulling away when it was done and revealing the tiniest bit of lace from Billie Dean’s underwear.

“Thank you.” Billie held the dress close to herself and got back up. She walked to a more secluded area, where Wilhemina couldn’t really see her, and discarded the dress aside. Now, only in her panties, she reached for a pair of jeans and a sweater. After getting dressed, Billie Dean walked back to the room to collect a few things. Underwear, pajamas, cigarettes, perfume, phone charger… She set everything inside a handbag, and all the while, dark brown eyes were glued on her; Venable watched Billie’s every move, eyes scanning her unabashedly, passing up and down through her body with a different kind of intention. “I’m all set,” Billie Dean turned around to Wilhemina. Her insides twisted at the look Venable had on her face. She’s been watching me. The hair that stood up on the back of her neck made a lot of sense.

“Alright.” Wilhemina licked her dry lips, reaching for her cane to get up. She finally looked away. How can someone look so good in jeans? She took a deep breath.

“I just need to find some shoes.” Billie walked to one of the shelves and reached for a pair of white sneakers. Her feet needed a break from heels. She quickly put it on and turned back around. “Ready?”

“Yes.” Venable reached for Billie Dean’s hand and they both walked out of the bedroom and to the stairs. This time, Billie quickly let go of Wilhemina to allow her to better go downstairs. It was easier to go down than up, for Venable.

When they reached the living room, Billie Dean guided them to the front door, fingers tangled with Wilhemina’s again. She could see how Venable eyed her legs from time to time, quickly looking away right after. A small smirk touched her lips. As she opened the front door and Wilhemina stepped outside, Billie allowed herself to stare at Venable’s butt for a bit longer; she bit her inner cheek and looked away to lock the door as soon as Wilhemina looked back at her. “We can order something for lunch, later,” she decided to speak so her inappropriate thoughts didn’t consume her.

“Sure,” Venable nodded. She forced herself to stop staring so much at Billie Dean, but how could she stop when that woman was wearing jeans? They walked to the huge gate and Billie stopped to set the alarm there; once she did it, they finally stepped outside. Wilhemina already reached for the car keys. “Are you hungry already?”

“No,” Billie shook her head. “Are you?”

“No.” Venable unlocked the car, but before she could reach for her door, Billie Dean was already opening it for her. Warmth made its way to her cheeks. She offered her a timid smile. “Thank you.”

Smiling brightly, Billie nodded. “Of course.” She leaned closer and pecked Wilhemina’s cheek, because she could.

Holding back a sweet chuckle, Venable got into the car. How is she real? She bit her lower lip to stop her smiling from growing too much. Billie Dean soon joined her inside, and once they buckled up Wilhemina began to drive. A hand landed on her knee, caressing it. Venable’s brown eyes fell down to it for a second, and her cheeks kept on fighting with the expanding smile. “Your nails are always so beautifully done… how do you maintain them?” she asked after a second of silence.

“Oh,” Billie Dean eyed the hand that caressed Wilhemina’s knee. “They’re gel extensions.” Venable hummed, and honey eyes noticed how she seemed to frown a little. “Every two weeks I get them done. My former agent advised me to always have my hands in order, since I talk too much with them. It’s been years since my natural nails have seen the light of day.”

Wilhemina supposed it made sense. She stared at her own nails at the wheel, and part of her felt ashamed that they were kept… natural. She always made sure her nails were clean and cut short, of course, but that was it; sometimes she dared painting them a shade of purple, but it was a rare event. “They’re beautiful.”

Billie couldn’t hold the chuckle that left her lips. She remembered, back when they barely knew each other, how Venable had commented on her nails and how she seemed to not like them. “You don’t mean it,” she teased.

With her frown growing, Wilhemina looked at Billie Dean as they stopped at a red light. “I do.”

“You don’t,” Billie laughed. “You’ve told me you didn’t like them some time ago. It’s okay, they’re not everyone’s cup of tea.” She lovingly squeezed Venable’s knee to make a point.

Damn it. Wilhemina’s cheeks tinted once again. Honesty sometimes costed a lot. “I like them, now.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“It definitely does.” Billie Dean chuckled again. The light turned green, and so Venable had to look away and to the road.

“I’m glad you do, then.” Billie squeezed Wilhemina’s leg one more time, caressing it.

Venable chewed on her bottom lip as she thought. “I suppose I’ve grown used to them… they compliment you.” And they do look sexy. She kept that part to herself.

Billie Dean hummed. She looked at her own hand again, examining the nails. “Like the purple with you.”

“You didn’t like the purple back then?” The question flew from Wilhemina’s lips before she could really think about it.

Billie Dean’s eyes grew in size. She looked at Venable even though brown eyes kept glued on the road. “No, I did. That’s not what I meant.”

I didn’t like the nails, she didn’t like the purple. Insecurity crawled inside Wilhemina, even though it made no sense; Billie didn’t have to like every single part of her life… right? I don’t like her any less because she smokes. But Billie Dean was Billie Dean, Billie Dean was beautiful and perfect and had every single aspect of her life in place. Venable was no Billie Dean.

“Hey,” Billie’s soft tone cut through Wilhemina’s inner turmoil. She squeezed her knee again. She’s ashamed. “All I meant is that I’ve grown used to the purple, too. And that it compliments you well. I’ve always been fond of it.” Venable nodded. She gulped as the light turned red again. Brown eyes hesitated, but moved to honey ones. Billie Dean offered her a small smile, warm and comforting as always. And then she leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I love the purple,” she repeated, just to make sure.

With her inner cheek trapped between her teeth, Wilhemina opened a timid smile. She nodded, yet again. “I love the coral,” she said shyly, and the smile that graced Billie’s face was so damn beautiful Venable was afraid she was about to melt. The light changed colors again, and so Wilhemina forced herself to look away. One of her hands, however, reached to squeeze Billie’s.

In no more than twenty minutes, Venable was already parking at her garage. They both got out of the car, Billie Dean with her bag in hand. Wilhemina reached for her keys and opened the door, allowing Billie to step inside first. As she walked by Venable, Billie Dean reached to caress her waist, watching as Purpura meowed and came running to greet them at the door.

“Hi, cutie,” Billie said softly. Purpura watched Billie Dean but didn’t lean closer to her legs.

The hand around her waist felt good. Almost too good. Wilhemina smiled at the cat and turned to close the door. “She’s used to pets first thing when I get home.”

“I can see that.” Honey eyes watched the way the cat leaned against the corner table, rubbing her back against it.

“She’s very spoiled,” Venable commented sweetly as she carefully took off her shoes and set them aside. Billie quickly did the same. Then, they walked to the couch. Only then Wilhemina took notice of the fact she was pretty sure she had never seen Billie Dean with anything other than heels. The white sneakers didn’t make her any less classy.

“I think that’s adorable.” As soon as they sat down, Purpura jumped up and to Venable’s lap.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Wilhemina chuckled. She set her cane aside and caressed between the cat’s ears. Loud purrs filled the room.

Smiling to herself, Billie Dean reached to caress Purpura on top of her sweater. The cat leaned closer to her. “Is it good?” A tiny meow was heard. Billie gasped as Venable let out a laugh.

“I think it is.”

“She’s so smart.”

Wilhemina nodded, fingers still caressing the cat’s skin. After a minute or two, she looked at Billie. Her lower lip got trapped between her teeth as she watched the way honey eyes were so lovingly glued to the cat. I’d love to paint her. Venable could trace Billie Dean’s features with her eyes so perfectly well; she could see where she’d add shade and volume, which colors she would mix to match the shade of her silky hair and cherry lips. “Would you allow me to paint you sometime?”

Billie blinked softly as she looked at Wilhemina. “Paint me?”

Venable nodded. “As a reference.”

With her cheeks gaining a bit of color, Billie Dean nodded back. “Yes.” Why was that so romantic? The idea of having Wilhemina staring at her every single detail for hours had the hair on the back of her neck standing up. Billie used her free hand to reach for Venable’s knee, caressing it. Purpura now jumped off of Wilhemina’s lap and walked to the kitchen. “That’s so sweet of you…”

“What is?” Venable had trouble understanding; Billie Dean was the one who agreed to an idea of hers, after all.

“You, wanting to paint me.”

“Oh.” Wilhemina hadn’t stopped to think about the possibility of it coming off as weird. But it suddenly popped into her mind that it could be. “I mean—only if you feel comfortable.”

“I do,” Billie Dean quickly said. She squeezed Venable’s knee again, and this time a hand tangled with hers. Wilhemina caressed her fingers. “I just find it such a lovely thing, that you would want to paint me.”

“You’re beautiful,” Venable simply said. Because it was true, and because she didn’t think she’d ever get tired of staring at her.

With her cheeks tinting even more, a shy cackle left Billie’s lips. Her eyes moved away from brown ones before coming back again. “So are you… unfortunately, all I can draw are stick figures.”

With a small laugh, Venable shook her head. She’d have to draw a crooked one. The thought came flying with no warnings, although more of that kind had been lingering in the back of her head ever since she had to face the stairs. Wilhemina gulped and shoved it aside. “I bet they’re lovely.”

“I can make a purple one for you.” Playfully, Billie Dean winked. And it was just so damn pure to be able to enjoy another person like that; with no worries, with no fears. Venable didn’t hold back the laugh that left her lips, and Billie just stared and stared at that woman nonstop, wanting to remember every single detail of her features when she was happy.

“I think that works.”

“Me too,” Billie’s voice was considerably softer, now. Brown eyes moved to hers, almond in shape from smiling. Billie Dean smiled back and reached to caress one of Wilhemina’s cheeks with her free hand. They stared at each other. “I think my grandma would have loved you,” she said after what seemed to be ages.

With a frown reaching her features, Venable licked her suddenly dry lips. “How so?” she asked, voice as soft as Billie’s.

With a small shrug, Billie Dean now played with a lock of red hair. “I just know she would.” Billie’s grandmother had been the only person to believe in her when she said she could contact the other side—and to really believe her, not only after she began getting recognized. Granted, Billie Dean had gotten her gift from someone, and that someone had been her grandmother. I miss her. “She was the first one I opened up to about my sexuality… the first one I told about my gift… she would have loved you,” she repeated.

Blinking softly, Venable found herself a little lost on the emotions that invaded her. How was it like to have someone you could trust like that? But also… how was it like to lose someone like that? Wilhemina would usually roll her eyes and ignore the subject when people started talking about their family, for it was too painful. But Billie Dean’s family seemed worth the pain. “I’m sure she was lovely.” If Billie talked that highly about her, Venable had no reasons to believe otherwise. I feel weird.

“She was.” A small smile touched Billie Dean’s lips. “I can see her as clear as day, crocheting you a purple sweater… hugging you so tightly your arms would hurt.” Billie chuckled faintly, eyes far away. “She would love to talk to you about wine… about books, or art, or anything you wanted to talk about. She would love your hair… and how you smell, and how you carry yourself…”

Venable gulped softly. Billie Dean’s words carried so much adoration, yet so much pain… she had never seen her like that. Yet, Wilhemina herself grew with new emotions once again, and she wondered how to deal with them, what to do with them. She tried picturing a woman who could be Billie’s grandmother, but all she could think about were the old ladies who locked her at her bedroom when it was bedtime. Someone so important to Billie Dean certainly wouldn’t be like that. Her chest grew tight—but not because of anxiety, this time. But because of something she didn’t know.

“She really would have loved you,” Billie repeated once again, thus breaking Venable’s train of thoughts. She blinked once and let go of Wilhemina’s hair, leaning closer to kiss her on the forehead. I’m not ready to talk about her yet. Billie Dean didn’t know why she had brought her grandmother up, out of nowhere. She thought about her every single day, but the wound was still not healed enough. And she didn’t want to bring their mood down, for they already had quite a lot on their plate. Shaking the nostalgia off, Billie pulled away and smiled at Wilhemina, whom stared at her with eyes as wide and concentrated as a puppy’s. She’s adorable. “I’m starting to grow hungry…”

#wilhemina venable x billie dean howard #fic rec #would you swallow all your pride?#billie dean howard #willhemina venable

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angelxsarahp · 7 months

Text

I Was Blind, but Now I See (Cordelia Goode)

You heard her screaming and felt the terror rush your veins. You hadn't gotten to know the Headmistress of this fine establishment much, but you certainly didn't wish for her to die. She had gathered you all.

She kept screaming, and you all were already halfway up the steps. Zoe got to her door first, pulling, but it was locked. Nan slammed on the door. You really wished you had a telekinetic right now. It was hell, standing by the door, listening to terrified screams, knowing there was nothing you could do besides shout your calls to a woman who couldn't respond through her terror and her interaction. You tried though, slammed against the wood until your shoulder could take no more. You tried to pick the lock, tried to pry the hinges, melt the lock. You used every ability you'd gathered over your tutelage and it did nothing.

You were finally invited into the room and you ran for the woman, shirtless and screaming, under her desk. You dropped to your knees and skidded to her, still speaking, never stopping trying to assure her. "Miss Foxx. It's okay. He's gone. It's me."

The woman reached for your hair and face, silent but no less distressed. She heaved desperately and you just kept talking, one of your talents.

The other three witches came back upstairs from obviously banishing the spirit Zoe had tried to find Madison with. Nan came over as well, likely having felt what Cordelia did.

Cordelia reached for you both in a frenzy, her breath hitching back up. She croaked your names, recognized you, but it was too much input for her.

You weren't much among these witches, but you brought yourself together now. The coven had been one shit show after another for weeks now. You faced the others with a faux-confident smile. "Go. I can handle this." The other two left with little argument, but the clairvoyant wouldn't be fooled by fake faith. You just touched her shoulder, showing you trusted yourself with her even if you worried. Nan left as well. You faced the still panting Headmistress. "Hope you don't mind," you whispered. You looked up at her, forcing back your emotions and doubt. "Miss Foxx," you tried calling again, but she was seriously freaked out and very defenseless. You dragged her blanket over to you both, wrapping it around the blonde. "Cordelia," you whispered, trying another tactic.

Her breaths deepened and her blue orbs finally moved to you, finding the face between her hands.

"You're safe, Cordelia," you tried, hesitant, but hoping.

She nodded, hands lowering to your shoulders. Her breaths came in more normally now. She called your name back. "Thank you." Hands found the ground now, preparing to push up.

You brought your hand to the top of her head in case she didn't listen, but you explained. "You had to hide, Miss Cordelia." This felt better. "We have to crawl out from under here."

Cordelia forced another deep breath, nodding. She held your arm and followed as you crawled. She was half grateful she was still in her pants and not her nightgown. You rose to a squat, leaving your arm low for your Headmistress. She rose beside you.

"Your bed is about six steps behind you," you explained, being generous in case she took shaky steps. You were right, holding her waist to help her feel more secure as she turned and walked.

But she made it and took off her pants. "Will you get my dress hanging in my closet?" she requested.

You eyeballed the room, wondering how you were supposed to know which dress- Oh, the see-through nighttime one. You grabbed it and left the hangar. When you came back, Cordelia was covering her bare chest. "Oh," you squeaked, diverting your eyes quickly. You held out the dress, inching closer to her so she would feel it.

The older woman laughed at your meekness. Her fingers accidentally touched yours as she took the gown and she gasped as she saw gentle flashes. No dark secrets did you keep, but you hid your eyes from her, only seeing her when you thought she didn't see you. And she hadn't. She felt your feelings, the blooming crush you tried to quash, secondhand and it was a sweet turn to her seeming abrasive new power. She saw you drop your gaze to the wedding ring she no longer wore any time you felt your imagination ran too far amok. And she'd have been inclined to agree, when she thought her husband was perfect and loyal.

She smiled and turned from you despite knowing you weren't looking at her putting on her gown. She had to lift her arms and it fell as ever. She tried to fine-tune it, but something was still twisted.

Noticing her uncomfortable grimace, you pulled the sides of her dress straight. "I haven't had a chance to tell you," you spoke quietly to her, "how sorry I am that anyone would do this to you. No one deserves this, but certainly not you." You trailed your fingertips down her side, holding her wrist.

Cordelia turned halfway to you. She loosed her wrist to take your hand. "Thank you, dear. Good night," she dismissed you.

You obediently left. Goddess, she looked so delicate.

It was a late night, but you couldn't sleep. The thunder came and went and you read by the lamplight. It was an odd sensation to be so close to sleeping on the couch with an old Grimoire in your lap, but to know you would be wide awake in bed. You kinda hated it. You returned to the same paragraph for the eightieth time, not recognizing a term and not knowing if it had been used earlier in the section. You were tired, but you wouldn't dare read the ancient text in your bed and fall asleep like so. You found that symbol again and continued on, hoping the phrasing would correct itself in your head so it made sense. Your frustration grew.

The dainty footsteps of someone coming down the stairs kept you from passing out in a blind rage. Bad choice of words, you thought, as Cordelia turned the corner. She wandered from one end of the wall to the next, before suddenly stopping. She froze in the middle of open space and her face turned entirely in your direction. "Who's out there?" she asked. She took a step toward you, hand held out once the stairs ended. "I know someone's there."

"Me," you squeaked out faintly. "Just me."

Cordelia relaxed a bit and stepped toward you.

You rose and met her halfway, taking her arm to guide her around the sofa and between it and the table. "Seat's behind you," you informed.

The blonde slowly sat. She held onto your hand, enjoying the flashes of herself as you'd always seen her. Even now, she had no idea how she looked yet she felt how you did. You still worshiped her the same, though she was stunned to know you had before. "Why are you still up?"

Right on cue, you yawned. You still covered your mouth and turned away, but the woman still smiled at the sound. "Just... couldn't sleep."

Cordelia leaned toward you. "It sounds like you could try...." she teased.

You smiled at the sentiment. "Yea... On the couch," you informed her. You'd never heard your Headmistress laugh, but it was as sweet as the rest of her and hearty as her. You couldn't help but be drawn in by it, stare at the face that produced it. Cordelia sobered a bit and she seemed to know you were staring at her, gazing best she could in your direction. You slowly lifted your hand as if it would allow her the chance to lean away. She couldn't even see it to deny you toying with the tips of her frayed blonde hair. You wondered if the acid had affected her locks as well.

But her breath hitched and she left her cane between her legs, holding your knee with one hand.

You brought the backs of your fingers over her jaw, down to her chin, then wandered with your fingertips to trace her lips, her cheekbones, her nose. "Does it hurt?" you whispered into the tense air.

"No," Cordelia answered in a normal voice, but the vibrato told you she was affected too.

"Does it generally?" was your follow-up question.

She shook her head, not wishing to give away how much she enjoyed the not pitiful attention.

Your thumb gentle caressed one of the scars. Even if it was still to be painful, she or her Supreme mother could've handled that. The droplet pattern was a painful reminder at how this was done, but you followed it through, all around her eyes like a gentle spiral, not a horrific infliction. "You should know..." you continued to whisper, "...you're still breathtaking."

Cordelia laughed out a sound you could tell if it was bitter or ironic.

You shut your eyes. "Gorgeous," you continued as if you'd meant for this to be a list. "Like a fallen star, caught in a beautiful, tragic painting."

Pure blue eyeballs lifted to try to see you. But all she saw was herself through your eyes. She sighed your name, taking your face while holding your knee. You held her face and neck in return, trying to hold her together with your bare hands. She tried to lean toward you to which you retreated in equal parts. "I-"

"You're married," you explained. That was the only reason you would- could refuse her.

"He slept with another woman," Cordelia tried to argue back.

"Then get a divorce," you offered as if it were so simple. "Because 'you're married' means something to me." You leaned toward her while she couldn't tell and kissed her swiftly on the cheek.

#fic rec #cordelia goode x reader

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