Hello! Sorry to bother you but I'm wondering if you are going to continue "oh what a name"? x
It’s in the works! But I can’t promise a timeline of when a new chapter will be published. I know it’s been a couple of years😭, but I promise you I haven’t forgotten about it:3 Life is just busy and crazy and it’s just hard to find the motivation to write these days. But thank you sm for reading and caring enough to ask about it<33
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: This might not be the most eventful chapter, but it's one I'm proud of for it being, after nearly an year, the end of my hiatus. Thank you for everone who waited for me, I hope I have not disappointed and I can confidently say this time that more is coming very soon. Once again, thank you.
The words echoed inside Billie Dean’s heart, caressing and stabbing it at the same time. She pulled away just enough to stare at brown eyes, hands cupping Venable’s cheeks and caressing them with her thumbs, wiping the remaining of the tears away. Two arms wrapped around her own waist, pulling her closer. I love you. She couldn’t say that yet—so soon, so fast. So she leaned closer and kissed those wine lips in front of her, pouring the words on them, speaking through caresses. Wilhemina held her even tighter, lips moving slow, gentle… lips pouring I love you’s all over.
The rest of the lunch break went smoothly, and once people began to get back into the office, Venable was already kissing Billie Dean on the cheek and walking back to her table. A sigh of relief left her lips as she eyed Emma’s empty table. After getting settled, she turned the computer back on and took a deep breath, excel sheet already spread out on the screen. Not even five minutes into work, heels clacked loudly to her left, indicating Emma had come back to her table. Wilhemina nibbled on her inner cheek as she kept her eyes on the monitor, avoiding any eye contact possible.
In her office, Billie Dean smiled to herself as she did her best to focus on the e-mails in her MacBook. Her mind kept on slipping to Venable, to their kisses, to their conversation… to how much she inevitably came to love that woman. I don’t want to sleep alone tonight. But Wilhemina had been a loner her whole life it seemed, and perhaps she needed some personal space. Or maybe she was a loner for a lack of choice. Billie had yet to find out. I could invite her for a glass of wine at least. Billie Dean blinked twice and tried focusing on the words in front of her yet again, corner of her lips tugging up nonstop. Once Jenny got back from lunch, they started working on what was left of the Christmas special.
Two hours of nonstop work later, Billie stretched her back and took her glasses off. She sighed as her spine popped, eyes closed. “Oof.”
“Right.” Jenny leaned back on the chair, stretching herself as well.
Blinking a few times to adjust her sight again, Billie Dean sat back straight. “I need a cigarette.”
“I need something sweet.”
“Good idea.” Billie got up, followed by Jenny right behind. They both walked to the kitchen, and she excused herself to the balcony, purse in hand. The first hit of nicotine instantly relaxed her body, leaving her leaning against the wall with eyes closed. She took another drag and then another one until the cigarette was gone, and then she got back to work alongside Jenny, whom ate a bag of chocolate-covered pretzels.
With eyes still on the monitor, Venable almost missed it when people began getting up to leave. She blinked twice and leaned back on the chair, saving the document she had been working on. Her mind instantly slipped to Billie Dean, and to their lunch and to their time at her place and to all the butterflies that were still present in her stomach. Would she come over tonight? Wilhemina figured sometimes Billie would need some alone time, but asking couldn’t hurt… right? I will be upset if she says no, though. Being upset was worth the shot. Once she collected all of her things, Venable leaned onto her cane and got up to put her coat on. Jenny walked by the office, smiling at them as she followed to the elevator. From the corner of her eye, Wilhemina watched her. Billie should be alone. Discreetly, she grabbed her purse and followed into the hallway all the way to Billie Dean’s office. The door was already open, so red waves peeked inside; there Billie was, quietly gathering her things. Venable watched her quietly, eyes bathing on the beauty of the unnoticed. She’s the most beautiful creature to ever grace this Earth. “Billie?” She called quietly, as to not scare her.
Honey eyes instantly lifted up from whatever document Billie Dean was gathering. She opened a smile, so bright and sincere Wilhemina had to grasp her cane a little harsher in order not to fall. “Hi, darling.” She set the paper aside and walked to Venable, purse on her shoulder. “Are you done?” She asked as she leaned to peck her lips.
Wilhemina nodded. This time, the tobacco was a little stronger on Billie’s kiss. “Yes. I was wondering—I was wondering if you’d like to come over, uh, tonight?”
Taken positively by surprise, Billie Dean nodded. She reached to caress Venable’s waist, resting her hand right where her skirt met her sweater. I know what’s underneath it. She gulped. “I would love to. I have this bottle of red wine in my place that I’ve been saving, I can bring it along if you’d like?”
“Sure.” Somewhat relieved with the answer, Wilhemina took a discrete deep breath. The fingers against her waist were a sweet reminder of earlier—as if she needed one. “Y-you can stay over, if you’d like…”
Oh. Biting her lower lip with an even bigger smile, Billie caressed the place her fingers rested. “Would you like me to? I don’t want to impose…”
“I would love you to.” Being honest and vulnerable was becoming easier for Venable to do so when around Billie Dean. She almost didn’t recognize herself sometimes. “But I understand if you need some alone time, too. I mean—I also don’t want to impose.”
With her eyes scrunching affectionately, Billie leaned to peck Wilhemina again; this time, Venable’s free hand reached up to cup her cheek and pull her into a full kiss. A sweet chuckle escaped Billie Dean’s lips. As they pulled away, Billie stared at brown eyes. “I’ll be there at seven.”
“Perfect,” Venable nearly whispered. She pecked Billie Dean again and pulled away to follow her way to the garage. With a smile, Billie watched her from behind.
The ride home was cheerful; Billie sang loudly to the songs that played on the radio, mind on Wilhemina. As she got home, Eleanor was already gone. With quick footsteps, she got upstairs and straight to the bathroom, ready to take a shower. It didn’t take long for her to step out, body wrapped in a towel and hair up in a bun. She walked to her closet and began to look through her underwear. What if something happens? It’s not that Billie Dean was waiting for it, but if something ended up happening, she at least wanted to look nice. Reaching for a set of blue lace panties and bra, Billie put them on and went to choose an outfit. Something simple… A dress and some boots, her nearly signature look at that point, as well as a coat and some tights. Once dressed, Billie Dean gathered her things to spend the night over and put on some basic makeup—mascara and lipstick, that was enough. And then she nearly showered herself again in Floratta Blue before going downstairs and to the garage, stopping only to grab the bottle of red wine she had promised Venable.
In her house, Wilhemina was already waiting for Billie Dean. She put some music on and sat down on the couch in comfortable sweater and trousers, skin covered by the delicious smell of lavender from her soap. Purpura purred as she lay down on Venable’s lap, eyes closed as she received caresses on top of her head. Venable had already started cooking some chicken, which was now in the oven, as well as some salad and rice—something simple, but nice. On the table in the middle of the couches she had poured them both an empty glass, ready for when Billie Dean arrived with the bottle of wine. In the air, music hummed lowly as Wilhemina had turned her record player on and meticulously selected Aretha Franklin as the soundtrack of the night. Even though there was no reason for it, Venable felt her chest nervously bubbling. It didn’t take much for the bell to ring, which caused Purpura to already jump off of Wilhemina’s lap and walk to the front door, meowing softly as Venable followed close behind. With quick fingertips, she opened the door. There Billie stood, with that beautiful dress and tights and looking as perfect as ever. “Hi,” she smiled.
“Hi, darling.” Billie Dean gripped her bag a little tighter. She did look amazing earlier in that skirt, but Jesus those trousers are perfect.
“Would you like to park in the garage? Since you’re spending the night, it could be safer.”
“Oh, thank you. But I ubered here, since we’re going to the same place tomorrow morning.”
Smart. Venable felt her cheeks warming up. She nodded and stepped aside for Billie to get in. As she did, Billie Dean leaned to peck her lips sweetly. Wilhemina smiled before closing the door behind them. Purpura meowed happily as she stared up at Billie. “Someone missed you,” she chuckled. Already walking to the couch so she could pet the cat, Billie Dean took a seat and set her bag and purse beside her on the floor. Instantly, Purpura jumped on her lap and purred loudly, head bumping on Billie’s chest as Billie Dean caressed her head lovingly, mumbling sweet compliments to the cat. Venable watched as she stood there close to the door still, hand on her cane and eyes glued to the absolutely angelic scene in front of her. She makes herself home so easily… Wilhemina could never feel so comfortable in a place that was not her own, could never just be one within and blend in so well, yet Billie Dean… Billie Dean had barely arrived and she already looked like she belonged to her place—to her life, to her ways, to her heart. Purpura bumped her head more and more against Billie’s chest, receiving pets and little kisses on the nose. What a lucky woman I am. “You’re so beautiful,” she said without really thinking, almost as if Billie Dean wouldn’t be able to hear her.
Honey eyes looked up at Venable, almond in shape from the smile she carried on her lips. “I was just thinking the same about you.” With her free hand, Billie pet the seat next to her on the couch. Promptly, Wilhemina walked there and sat down, cheeks crimson.
“I mean… not only on the outside.” Venable reached for Billie Dean’s knee, caressing it on top of the tights and on a place Purpura was not stepping at. With her own cheeks tinting, Billie reached to caress the hand on her leg. “You make yourself belong so easily…”
“I think that’s your eyes speaking, darling…”
“Either way, it’s beautiful.” Venable leaned to kiss Billie’s cheek. Purpura meowed softly as she stared at them. With a chuckle, Wilhemina used her free hand to pet the cat’s head. “I’ll share only with you,” she said softly.
With the hair on the back of her neck standing up, Billie Dean bit her lower lip. “Are you possessive?”
The question caught Venable off guard. She bit her inner cheek, searching for any signs of discontentment in Billie’s eyes; she found only curiosity and a hint of mischief there. Her cheeks tinted even redder. “No. Just extremely monogamous.”
With the corner of her lips tugging up, Billie Dean hummed. She squeezed the hand underneath her own. How was it possible that Wilhemina Venable simply never failed to be so damn enticing? So damn sensual? So damn classy? “What a coincidence, so am I.” Calm down. Her lower stomach trembled.
She’s teasing me. “So, you’re just mine?” It was safe to tease back, she assumed.
Oof. This time, Billie opened a shy smile as she bit her lower lip. “Yes. Only yours.”
Leaning closer, Venable brushed her lips against Billie Dean’s. She felt the way her breath quivered, and with a small smirk and ignoring all the burning of her cheeks, Wilhemina squeezed Billie’s leg again. “Did you bring the wine?” She whispered.
“Y-yes.” Billie Dean gulped. Even though they were inches apart, she refused to look away from brown eyes. What was this new side of Venable she was getting to experience and explore? I’ve never seen her so confident. The hand on Purpura didn’t move anymore, but only rested against the fuzzy purple sweater.
“Good.” Pulling away without a kiss, Wilhemina smiled to herself at the state she left Billie at; chest quivering, face crimson. A giggle left her lips as she reached for her cane and began to get up. “I’ll go check on the chicken. The glasses are on the center table,” she bobbed her head over to it.
Nodding the best she could, Billie Dean watched as Venable disappeared into the kitchen, with Purpura jumping from her lap and following right behind. Taking a deep breath, she let out a chuckle to herself. “Jesus,” she breathed out. Her palms had begun to sweat a little, and with somewhat wobbly legs Billie got up to open the bottle of wine she had brought. Only now, alone in the living room and with her senses very well aware, did she hear the faint buzzing of the record player. ’It’s a lovely day today,’ it hummed, ’so whatever you’ve got to do, you’ve got a lovely day to do it in, that’s true’. It was indeed a lovely day. Once she had managed to open the bottle, Billie Dean poured them both a glass of wine and sat back down on the couch. Her heart was just now starting to lose the extra speed it had taken.
“I figured I’d get us some snacks, so we don’t drink on an empty stomach.” Walking back into the living room, Wilhemina held a tray with a few tiny bowls on it. “Peanuts, cashews, cheese, olives and ham. Is that alright?”
“It’s perfect, darling.” Billie reached to make room for the tray on the center table. Once Venable set it down, she sat back beside her on the couch. Billie Dean smiled at her. “I hope you like the wine.”
“I’m sure I will.” Wilhemina reached for a glass and closed her eyes as she leaned closer to smell the liquid. Absolutely rich. A hum escaped her lips. Billie watched her somewhat nervously. “Bordeaux…” Carefully, she took a sip. “Lafite Rothschild?”
With her eyes growing in size, Billie Dean nodded. “Yes, actually. How do you know that?”
Venable smiled as she set her glass back on the table, eyes back on Billie. “The tobacco… it’s kind of unique.”
Blinking twice, Billie Dean let out an amused chuckle. “That’s… really impressive.”
Chuckling back, Wilhemina smiled to herself. “Thank you.” She leaned back against the couch, relaxing as she stared at Billie. She watched as she reached for the glass and took a sip as well, lips tinting purple before she licked them clean. Instinctively, she bit her lower lip. I want to kiss her. Venable felt herself craving for those lips, because how long had it been since they had last kissed? A few hours, probably. It felt like days already.
Taking another sip, Billie set the glass down and popped a small cube of cheese into her mouth. She slowly began to chew on it, back resting on the couch once again. Her eyes met brown ones, and she found in them something awfully similar to love, and perhaps a hint of lust. Her lower stomach trembled. She took a deep breath, reaching for one of Wilhemina’s hands and tangling her fingers in hers. “Can I confess you something?” Venable nodded, eyes already scrunching up lovingly. Billie Dean chuckled to herself, cheeks starting to tint. “Your… you have the most beautiful breasts I’ve ever seen.”
“Oh—“ Letting out a surprised laugh, Wilhemina covered her mouth with her free hand. That was definitely unexpected. She’s lying, her head screamed, shut up, Venable shouted back, and this time she managed to actually make it quiet down, for Billie meant safety. “Thank you?” Is that really true?
“You’re welcome,” Billie giggled. She bit her lower lip, fingers caressing Wilhemina’s. She watched how brown eyes seemed to struggle with the dimple of worry between them, that even though faint was still there. She’s doubting it. Once again, Billie Dean felt guilty for her past, even if it didn’t make sense. “I mean it,” she added, softly. “They’ve been on my mind all day.”
Holding back any embarrassed sounds this time, Venable only allowed a shy chuckle to come out. “Thank you,” she repeated. “I—I’ve been, uh, thinking about earlier. A lot.”
“Yeah?” Seeing Wilhemina with such red cheeks would never fail to make Billie melt. She kept on smiling to herself, finding a weird sense of delight in how brown eyes refused for stop on her honey ones.
“Yeah.” Venable nodded. She cleared her throat and reached for an olive, popping it into her mouth right before taking another sip of wine. Her nerves deliciously bubbled up as she could feel Billie Dean’s eyes on her. Leaning back against the couch, she licked her lips clean.
“I don’t think it’s fair you haven’t allowed me a kiss yet.”
Blinking twice, Wilhemina held back the urge to look away and decided she’d play the same game. A hum left her lips. “Have you tried kissing me yet, per chance?”
With the corners of her lips tugging up, Billie nodded slowly. “Touché.” She moved closer, watching how brown oceans focused on her lips. Cupping a cheek with her free hand, Billie Dean was about to collide their lips together when Venable pulled slightly away. She frowned.
Wilhemina bit her lower lip, eyes now on honey ones. “You’re cute when you´re flustered,” she nearly murmured. I barely recognize myself.
Already red cheeks grew even redder, and Billie bit her lip harshly to hold back a gasp. Remaining as collected as she possibly could right now, her fingers moved to caress the base of Venable’s skull, deliciously massaging her scalp there. “So are you,” she murmured back.
This time, it was Wilhemina’s turn to say nod. “Touché,” she whispered before finally meeting their lips together. The fingers tangled in Billie Dean’s slowly let go as she reached to caress Billie’s waist, pulling her closer. Their lips moved as if their kiss were an oasis and they had been lost in the desert for years.
“Mm,” the sound escaped Billie Dean’s throat before she could stop it. Her cheeks threatened to tint impossibly more but she simply did not care. With her now free arm, Billie caressed one of Venable’s legs, fighting the urge to just slip up a little. Not now. Too much, to fast. She squeezed the flesh there softly, tongue dancing alongside Wilhemina’s as her lower stomach twisted and turned even more. Flashes and more flashes of earlier invaded her mind, from the pretty lace Venable had on, to just how absolutely gorgeous her breasts looked covered by it, and to how utterly delicious they felt under her lips. I might go insane. Billie Dean was consciously aware of her touches by that point, careful not to be too rough.
The only thing Billie’s hum did for Wilhemina was to leave her ears tingling. Her hand squeezed the curve of Billie’s waist, and she couldn’t help but take a deep, shaky breath. I need to compose myself. Composing oneself was fucking hard when Billie Dean was there, kissing her lips and slowly going down her jawline. “Mgh,” Venable bent her head back, coral lips instantly peppering the skin of her neck with kisses. The position was weird now, but Wilhemina didn’t have the mind to adjust herself.
I need her. Billie’s mind screamed. I need her and I need her desperately. With her lips tingling, Billie Dean twisted her body the best she could to reach Venable’s neck. It was still uncomfortable. Without really thinking, she moved to straddle Wilhemina, each thigh on each side of her body. Hands instantly caressed her hips, pulling Billie closer and closer. Underneath her, Billie Dean watched as Venable threw her head back and closed her eyes, lips red and swallowed from their kiss. Slow. We’re going slow. The words were something Billie had to always remind herself, for resisting Wilhemina was a war right now. With her thumb carefully placed under Venable’s jaw, Billie Dean leaned closer and placed an open-mouthed kiss right on her pulse point, taking her time to savor each and every curve of her delicate skin. “You always smell so good,” she murmured, soon allowing the pad of tongue to sooth the place there.
With the delicious weight of Billie’s body on top of her, Wilhemina could only hum. Her hands slowly passed up and down Billie Dean’s tight covered thighs. I want to go under her dress. She squeezed Billie’s hips. “I…” Venable murmured as a sigh.
“Yes?” Murmuring against the skin, Billie Dean now kissed the other side of Wilhemina’s neck, free hand using the backrest as support. She’s quivering.
I don’t even know. Venable simply hummed again. Her hands went down and up again, but this time she allowed them to follow an inch up inside the dress. On the cusp of her ear, Billie whined lowly. The hair on Wilhemina’s neck stood up. She gulped. Gosh. “Can I?” She managed to whisper. Instantly, Billie Dean nodded. Venable bit her lower lip, hands nearly trembling as she began to move them up and under the dress, caressing the outer parts of Billie’s beautiful thighs, digits dangerously close to the curve of her ass.
“Mgh,” Billie Dean whimpered, back subconsciously arching as her lips moved up and to Wilhemina’s again. She kissed her with gusto, stopping to pull on her lower lip before kissing her again, tasting the Holy wine.
It was becoming too much for Venable to handle, and so she had no choice but to move her hands up and cup Billie’s butt gently, nearly asking permission to do so; when Billie Dean insisted against her palms, however, Wilhemina gave herself full permission to actually feel them. Her heart skipped a beat. She gulped. Jesus Christ. It felt just like she had imagined it would, and the memory of herself, weeks ago, touching her own body as she imagined the exact situation she was at right now was enough to engulf Venable’s body in lust and a tiny bit of shame—one that passed by unnoticed, for the other with no doubts won the battle. It was so fucking erotic. “Fuck,” she murmured against Billie’s lips. Billie Dean pulled back just slightly, smirking softly as she stared at her with those seductive honey eyes.
“You sound so good,” Billie murmured, leaning to peck Wilhemina slowly. With her cheeks red, Venable nibbled on Billie Dean’s lip before pulling slightly away. Her palms delicately massaged the fat against them, pulling Billie even closer. Billie Dean could feel her underwear already sticking to herself. Just a touch and I can barely handle myself. Never had that happened in her life, and even though absolutely torturous, Billie definitely enjoyed it. She bucked her hips, grinding on nothing at all, eyes still deeply staring at brown ones. It was Wilhemina’s turn to let out a small whimper, eyes looking away from Billie Dean’s for a second. Fuck me I want to hear more. Billie leaned closer and kissed those lips again, hips finding a slow, delicious rhythm that was soon picked up by Venable, whom now helped her move gently, hands helping on the movement.
Growing uncomfortably wet between her thighs, Wilhemina let out a sigh as she focused on just feeling all that was happening. Her heart had been pleasantly beating inside her head for a while now, and all her senses seemed to be turned off for any and every thing that was not Billie Dean. Floratta Blue lingered in the air, and with the reminder of it, Venable moved to kiss down to Billie’s neck, taking her time to move her lips against every single inch of skin she found there, tongue eventually making contact with it all. Wilhemina’s lower stomach took a turn, and she couldn’t help but to squeeze Billie’s butt a little harsher. On top of her, Billie Dean had already settled her arms to rest around her neck, never once allowing it to slip even an inch south and close to Wilhemina’s spine. I’m safe. Venable felt comfortable with what they were doing, just like she had felt this morning. Do not get into your head right now, she scolded herself before the chance of a bad though occurring. Kissing up to Billie’s right ear, Wilhemina felt herself growing brave, taking strength out of seemingly nowhere—an impulse, a gush of fresh air. “Sometimes,” she started, low and slow. “I can’t help but stare at you… at your legs… at your ass…” Her cheeks were burning, but Venable simply couldn’t manage to care. Stop. You’re embarrassing yourself. She ignored the voice.
With a low hum and a teasing smile, Billie Dean made sure to arch her back a tiny bit more. When had she ever heard Wilhemina talk like that? Feel safe enough to actually do so? Billie was not taking it for granted at all. The hair on her neck stood up. Her body filled with goosebumps. Go under the tights, she wanted to say, go under and touch it all… scratch me, bite me, spank me, do whatever you please. Instead, she took a deep breath, for Venable should be the one to decide when she felt ready and comfortable to explore more of Billie Dean’s body. Her insides, however, never stopped twisting and turning. “Do you like them?” She breathed out.
“Yes,” Wilhemina was quick to answer before placing a kiss right under Billie’s ear. “Yes, I do.” With a content hum, Billie Dean reached to cup Venable’s cheeks as gently as she could at the state she found herself at, pulling her up for another kiss. Wilhemina felt herself melting, tongue dancing around Billie’s, body tingling. This is enough. Stop it before you make a fool of yourself again. Except, Venable didn’t know if she actually could, for her body seemed to be on autopilot and commanded by something awfully similar to desire. She gulped. I want to have her. I need to have her. I love her. Was she even ready for it? Was she ready for Billie Dean to see the worst part of herself? To see her back, to see her spine and all the turns it took? Panic began to crawl inside her chest, clearly telling her no, demanding she stopped it, demanding she gave in once again. Wilhemina gulped yet again, struggling to keep her pace on their kiss. One of her hands softly moved up, resting on the small of Billie’s back, caressing it and trying to ground herself back to reality. I’m fully clothed, I’m safe. Her back rested against the couch a little firmer. Her heart kept on beating fast, but it no longer felt good. No, no no no, not now. Not again. Venable squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the growing feeling inside her chest.
Billie Dean was no fool; she had felt the way Wilhemina had gotten stiff out of nowhere. Her hips stopped in place, and as she was about to pull away, the oven in the kitchen began to beep continuously, letting them know that whatever was cooking was ready and nearly burning. They pulled away. Venable took a deep breath. Billie offered her a soft smile. Even though Wilhemina smiled back, she knew it was, without a doubt, time to stop. “That damn oven,” she played, for perhaps it was best to act as if she didn’t know the turmoil that was passing inside Venable’s beautiful head.
Thank God. Chuckling, Wilhemina nodded. Both of her hands now caressed Billie Dean’s back. Brown eyes stared at the woman on top of her, with lips red, breath labored, pupils dilated… angel. Venable desperately wished she could just go and be a normal person, a normal adult in love with another. I have never been normal. She blinked. “Let me go get it.” Wilhemina lovingly pecked Billie one more time before she began to get up, lip caught between her teeth, face scrunching up with tears out of nowhere. Quickly, she walked to the kitchen.
The idea had came to you a few weeks ago, Wilhemina and you in each other‘s arms as you had one of your usual deep midnight conversations. She had said it so casually, almost as if it didnt matter. The woman had never had an advent calendar before and despite her making it seem like it wasn‘t a big deal, you could see something behind her brown eyes. You knew about Wilhemina‘s past by now, how she was never taken seriously for her pains and even when she finally got the diagnosis, she was treated like nothing other than a burden.
The redhead had always been careful about her past, not necessarily liking to bring it up, rather keeping it hidden. But after months of your relationship, the woman noticed how you never pushed, never got annoyed when she did share, you made her feel safe and seen, never like a burden and so she began trusting you, opening up and letting her guard down in a way she never had before. And with the season coming up, you decided to change just that. But it wasn‘t going to be any advent calender, her experience had to perfect, not the usual chocolates in a cardboard box.
If Mina was going to experience this for the first time, it had to be perfect. And so by the time december rolled around, you crafted your own version of an advent calendar, each day filled with something for the woman who captured your heart, little gestures to make her smile but also reminders for how much you loved her and how strong she truly was. Some were small, a book you knew she would love, a scented candle, her favorite teas, some handmade things like your own attempt at lavender soap. Some more expensive or taking longer to get your hands on like a beautiful designer scarf in her favorite shade of lilac, a new handle for her cane as hers had become a bit bruised and broken over the years.
You made sure that each day included a handwritten note, reminding her what you loved about her, her sharp wit, the way she mumbled to herself when reading a book or the way her soft hands would brush yours when she reached for her morning coffee. The night before december first, you carefully placed the wrapped boxes and envelopes on the shelf by the fireplace in the livingroom, each one labeled with the dates. When the two of you walk to sit in the livingroom with your coffees the next morning, her reaction was worth every bit of planning and effort you had gone through for the love of your life.
Her fingers delicately brushed over the first gift, her expression a mix of surprise and confusion. „What is this?“ she asked, her voice softer than usual when she saw all the shades of her favorite colour. You smile from the doorway, leaning against the frame. „An advent calendar, you said you never had one, so I thought I would make you one“ you explain, feeling a little shy, hoping it was going to bring her as much joy as you had hoped.
Mina turned towards you, her dark eyes shining „This.. is for me?“ she asks with furrowed eyebrows, almost in disbelief you would have went through that kind of trouble for her. „All for you“ you smile, stepping closer. „Go on, open today‘s“ you encourage with a warm smile. Her eyes dart between you and the box, hesitating for a moment before carefully unwrapping the small package, revealing a hardcover copy of the new book she mentioned months ago but never managed to get one. She gasps a little before finding a little note „You have a way of making this world feel brighter by just being in it. I hope this makes your day a little brighter too“.
Your girlfriends lips part, her eyes focused on the note and book before she looks at you, her usual composure softer than usual, more vulnerable. „This is.. little one.. I don‘t know what to say“ she mumbles before you step a little closer „You don‘t have to say anything“ you encourage, wrapping your arms around her. „Just enjoy it and know that every gift and every note is true, I love you“ you whisper. Your words cause you to hold on tightly and for a moment it was if though the world outside or her past didn‘t exist, just the two of you and the quiet love you shared, now carefully spelled out by daily gifts for your girlfriend.
The days passed with Wilhemina eagerly unwrapping each present, finding little gestures and notes that caused her heart to melt at your thoughtfulness. She tried to hide how giddy it made her but you would see the way her fingers lingered over the wrapping paper, a smile tugged on her lips whenever she read your notes, almost as if she was more excited about those than the actual gifts. One morning, you find her sitting at the table, the december 8th package in front of her. It wasn‘t opened yet, though she was staring at it, fingers lightly tracing the ribbon.
„Waiting for me?“ you tease, setting down two mugs of coffee before sitting across from her. She glances up, her expression softer than you had seen it before „Maybe.. I like opening them with you“ she whispers, barely audible. Her confession warmed your heart „Well don‘t let me keep you waiting, show me what you got today“ you encourage excitedly. The redhead unties the ribbon carefully, her movements unhurried, as if savouring the moment. Inside she finds a beautiful scarf, her favorite shades of lilac. You had found it weeks ago at a designer store, this not exactly within your budget but wanting to spoil the woman who had captured your heart.
She holds it up, admiring the piece of clothing before she murmurs „This is stunning“ but when she notices the small Prada tag, her eyes widen as she looks at you. „This is too much little one“ she argues but you shake your head, encouraging her to read the note. „It reminded me of you“ you whisper, watching her reaction closely. She sets the scarf down before reading the note „You are the most captivating person I have ever known, everytime I see you, I fall in love all over again“. Mina‘s breath hitches as she presses her lips together, eyes glistening with tears as she rereads the note. „You‘re going to ruin me with these“ she says, voice trembling slightly.
„Good“ you reply with a wink, reaching out to take her hand. „You deserve to be ruined in the best way possible, for love, for joy, for feeling safe and for all the things you misses out on growing up“. Her eyes find yours and for once she doesn‘t have a clever or sarcastic response. Instead she stands, leaning in as she kisses your lips, lingering on yours as if to pour all the unspoken words and gratitude into the moment. When she pulled back, she is smiling, a rare unguarded smile that causes your heart to ache. „Thank you“ she whispers „For this.. for everything“.
She doesn‘t say anything else, simply pulling you into another kiss, the scarf forgotten on the table for now. But you knew your Mina wasn‘t the type to say how much something meant to her, but in the way she held you after, the way she lingered close, you knew she didn‘t need to, her actions louder than any words. As the days passed you noticed her coming home after work, proudly wearing the scarf and using the other things you had gotten her, finding her drinking the tea you had gotten for her, reading the book and finding the room smelling like the lavender scented candle you bought, finding a soft smile on her features each time.
In the following weeks, you noticed how much more relaxed Mina seemed around you. She was anyway but there was something softer and subtler about the way she would talk to you, almost as if she wasn‘t thinking about what she is saying or holding back the slightest details which she usually would. Her arms would find yours more often, hands holding your own and her lips finding yours more softer than before, always as to make up for the fact she wasn‘t good with words and expressed her gratitude through those things.
Two nights before christmas, the two of you sit by the fireplace, the sound of the fire crackling echoing through the quiet room. There is a lilac knitted blanket draped over both of your legs as you watch the fire, the presence of each other enough as well as the vinyl you had gotten her playing softly in the background. Out of the corner of your eyes you could see how she keeps looking at you, her lips parting before she stops herself and you can‘t help but find her hand under the blanket, squeezing it a little reassuringly before locking eyes with the woman that you love. „Something on your mind Mina?“ you ask gently before her brown eyes find yours. She halts for a moment before her lips finally part, her walls knocking down gently with your grounding eyes.
„Thank you“ she whispers, her hand squeezing yours a little tighter instinctively as her eyes stay on your own. „Thank you for making this christmas so special“ she whispers, causing you to frown when you see the honesty in her eyes, the pain from her past replaced by something else. It was you that replaced those things, the notes, the carefully chosen gifts and the way you had made her feel seen ever since capturing her heart. „Thank you for making me feel seen and not like a burden“ she admits, some tears welling in her eyes as your own sparkle in your eyes. You pull her closer, holding her in your arms before pulling away with a smirk. „Wait til you open tomorrow‘s“ you tease with a wink which causes her to chuckle lowly at your antics. She leans her head on your shoulder, never once letting go off your hand.
The day christmas rolls around, the two of you begin with some breakfast, opting to spend it in the comfort of each other, Mina having made a dinner reservation for you two at a fancy but quiet restaurant she chose for the night. She had been excited to open your last box, a much smaller one this morning but you had told her she needed to wait til after breakfast, causing her to fake pout. The two of you enjoyed breakfast, happy that Wilhemina was finally getting a break from work for a little while, excited to spend it with her fully. While Wilhemina got in the bath and ready, having gifted her some lavendar bath salts for the occasion yesterday, you made sure to perfect the surprise that you had kept for the very end of this advent calendar.
By the time the woman steps out of the bedroom, dressed in a lilac uniform for tonight, her hair styled perfectly the way it usually was. But there was something different about the way she looked today, happier and almost a little less tense than usually. You watch from behind the sofa as you hide there, seeing her walk inside with a confused expression when she finds her favorite lilac flowers on the table with the last box for today. The note next to it reads „Open now“ and she glances around confused for a moment, not having seen you yet before she opens it, finding nothing other than another note in it. As her eyes glance over it her eyebrows furrow yet again as she reads „Turn around“ and as she does, her breath hitches when she sees you, on one knee and a tiny box with a purple ribbon in your hands.
„Y/N, what are you doing?“ she asks, confusion and fear in her features for a moment before your eyes locking with her own ground her. „Mina“‘you begin, trying to hide your trembling hands and trying to calm your nerves. „I know you aren‘t one for these big gestures and so that‘s why I‘m keeping this small“ you begin with a smile, trying to hold back your own tears. „I have loved you since first laying eyes on you and I couldn‘t be more grateful that you opened your heart to me. I love you with all my being, you are beautiful beyond words. And I promise you that I will spend every single one of my days reminding you how special you are“. She watches you in shock, her eyes never leaving yours as she listens to your words carefully. „I promise that I will spend my days making sure you slowly forget the memories you grew up with and replace them with happy and safe ones just like you deserve“.
Your breath trembles as you open the small box, exposing a subtle ring with a lilac diamond, not too big, not too small or grand, perfect for your girlfriend. „Will you do me the greatest honour of becoming my wife?“ you ask, a part of you worried this was too much for her, the two of you having talked about marriage before but unsure whether she was truly ready. „I promise we can take it as slow as you need and if this is too much, this is something you aren‘t ready for or not want, I will understand and I won‘t..“ you begin rambling but before your nerves can get the better of you further, she pulls you up, your faces inches apart. „Can you stop talking and kiss me?“ she whispers, tears in her eyes as you nod a bit dumfounded, her lips meeting yours in a kiss that feels so much more meaningful than all the others you had shared.
„So is that a yes?“ you ask with a sly smile as you both pull away which causes her to roll her eyes and smirk „Yes idiot, it means yes“ she whispers, tears still swelling in her eyes as you carefully place the ring on her finger, seeing how her eyes sparkle as she secretly admires it. There is silence between you as the vinyl player carries on playing softly in the background, your anxiety having drawn out the fact you turned it on before she stepped into the room while fixing all the details for her surprise. You glance at her cane, slowly reaching and putting it aside as you hold her up instead, causing her to meet your eyes, scared at first before it is instantly replaced by trust and safety. „I have got you“ you whisper as she leans her head on your shoulder and the two of you begin swaying softly to the sound of her favorite song.
„This month has been so special, thank you“ she whispers as you smile before you feel her smirking against you „How are you gonna beat that next year?“ she teases which causes you to chuckle before shrugging. „I have got something for you to open now too“ she remarks, reaching for her cane before disappearing for a moment. „I was going to give it to you tonight but I guess you beat me to it“ she whispers before you carefully unwrap the present, exposing a small box. Your heart hammers against your chest as you have a feeling what it might be by her words and smile. Tears well in your eyes as you see the beauiful ring she had chosen for you. „You know I can‘t get on one knee but will you do me the honour too?“ she teases, both utterly serious but something soft in her tone.
„I suppose so“ you shrug, tears streaming down your cheeks, causing the woman‘s elbow to softly land on your side before you both begin chuckling, laughter errupting in the quiet room as Wilhemina had learnt you truly cared for her. How you truly felt for her and she couldn‘t deny this any longer, especially after this month, that you are the one, that she trusted you fully and was never going to let you go. Her arms wrap around you again before her hand takes yours to admire the ring „Y/N Venable has a nice ring to it“ she smirks which causes you to smile before pulling her in for a kiss. And it was true, all you both wanted for christmas was each other, today and for all the christmases to come.
I feel bad that I haven't given you updates to my other stories, so here's the first chapter to a fic I've been working on for over a year (it's going to be like 35 chapters long, so bear with me plz).
(Also I know this is my second fic with this song title, let me have it)
Enjoy!
Words: 2.4k
Warnings: Mentions of sexual acts, language, blatant misogony, mentions of drugs and drug use. I think that's it????
You should’ve won.
It was a bet, a stupid bet to make your coworkers shut the fuck up about your boss. You were good at pool, you thought you had it in the bag, and you did, right up until your opponent bumped the table during your shot, and you sunk the 8-ball. You accused him of cheating, he accused you of being too much of a pussy to hold up your end of the bargain. A deal’s a deal.
It was some kind of twisted fate that the object of your disagreement would walk through the door only a few moments later, a scowl on her face as she spotted you all, brushing past the lot of you and sitting down at the bar.
“Look who it is.” Your coworker, Nate, laughed, “Time to pony up, princess”
You rolled your eyes, “This is cruel and unusual punishment.”
“For you or her?” Another, Scott, asked.
“You haven’t been on the receiving end of Venable’s wrath yet,” Nate said, “But you’re about to.”
“Not likely.” You sneered, “I’m not stupid enough to code the firmware update in java instead of python, unlike some people.”
“I was a rookie.” Nate scoffed, “You’ve made it two years without being on the receiving end, it’s time you get baptized.”
You could hear the murmurs of the other men, a quiet chant.
One of us, one of us…
“Maybe because I’m actually competent.” You fired back.
“Well, competent or not, nothing is going to save you from this.” Scott chuckled, “Might as well rip off the band aid and get’er done.”
Oh yeah, you were definitely about to be fired.
“Who knows, maybe she’s really into the bosses sleeping with their assistant’s thing. Might feed her fantasy.” Nate joked.
“Or yours.” You spit.
“Listen, as hot as lesbians are, if I ever start fantasizing about Venable getting her rocks off, please shoot me in the head.” Nate said seriously.
You downed your drink and turned on your heel, willing to do just about anything to get away from the current conversation. You knew what you had signed up for when you took this job, a staff of 95% men, all of whom hadn’t fucked a girl in at least 10 years and were proud members of the boy’s club, but you still didn’t want to subject yourself to their blatant misogyny any more than you had to.
Obviously, you weren’t going to do it. It was cruel and unnecessary, but you knew your colleagues well enough to understand that it had to at least be believable. You walked up next to her, making sure you were facing the group so they couldn’t see her face.
The bartender looked over at you, “Another round?”
“Yea, same thing.” You said, nodding in Venables direction, “And put whatever she’s having on my tab.”
Venable turned and glared at you, but you ignored it.
“Just this round?” The bartender asked.
“All of it.” You said, shaking your head, it was the least you could do after what you were about to put her through.
“Well, I guess it’s payment for forcing me to witness you traipsing around with those men like a whore.” Venable sneered.
“That’s a funny way of saying thank you.” You laughed, “There’s nothing wrong with grabbing a few drinks with colleagues. You should try it sometime.”
Venable scoffed, bringing her martini to her lips, “Workplace relationships are forbidden.”
You smirked, “Then I guess it’s a good thing I’m not into men.”
Venable sputtered around the rim of her glass; eyes wide as she choked on the burning liquid. You reached for your new drink, taking a sip as you winked at her and walked away.
“What happened?” Nate asked, “It sure didn’t take long.”
“Nothing, yet.” You said, “I walked away before she could give me an answer.”
“But the dare…” Scott interjected, but you were quick to cut him off.
“The dare was to ask her on a date, which I did.” You retorted, “No one said anything about her giving me an answer.”
“But she has to give you an answer, that’s how this works.” Nate said, and you shushed him.
“Cool your jets.” You groaned, “Getting someone to agree to a date is more like a game of chess than checkers. Good things take time.”
Nate and Scott laughed, “You are so getting fired on Monday.”
“Don’t I know it.” You mumbled over the rim of your glass.
In typical Venable fashion, you didn’t have to sit with it for long, a sticky note taped to your monitor on Monday morning for an eleven o’clock meeting. Working under Venable for as long as you had, you knew her habits. Meetings with clients were always first thing in the morning, before Jeff and Mutt had enough time to sniff themselves into a stupor. Staff meetings were after scheduled hours or during lunch, unpaid, of course. The eleven o’clock time slot lived in infamy, it was right before lunch, giving you just enough time to pack your things and do the walk of shame as everyone walked back through the doors. Clearly a genius move, or one of an absolute psychopath.
“What the fuck was that?” Venable sneered before you were even able to fully shut the door.
You pushed the door the rest of the way closed, “What was what?”
“At the bar.” Venable said, rolling her eyes, “Don’t tell me the alcohol killed what little brain cells you have left. I should fire you for speaking to me that way.”
You shrugged, “So fire me.”
Venable sighed, her words biting, “I don’t want to fire you. I want an explanation.”
That was a lie, she absolutely wanted to fire you, and she probably would have, if you hadn’t overheard that Jeff and Mutt were considering placing her on a firing freeze. She had hit an all-time record, canning 17 employees in the span of two weeks, and now she was doing damage control. But she didn’t know that you knew, and you weren’t going to let her figure that out. A loss of control was seen as weakness to Venable, and if she found out that you knew, nothing Jeff and Mutt could bring down would stop her from getting rid of you.
You shook your head, “It’s better if you don’t know.”
Venable grit her teeth, her nails digging into the soft wood of her desk, “I asked a question, I expect an answer.”
You threw your hands up, “I lost a game of pool.”
Venable cocked her head, very slightly, and chewed on her words, “You… lost a game of pool?”
“Yes.” You said, hoping if you danced around the topic enough, she would eventually get bored and leave it alone, or just assume you were too stupid to get any viable information out of.
Venable’s eyes raked over you, before zeroing in on some invisible crack in your armor, “And?”
“And?” You asked, trying to play dumb.
“I assume there’s more to the story, given the way your feet are dancing like you’re stepping on red hot coals.” Venable said, eyes following yours towards your feet, “Spit it out. I don’t have all day.”
You chewed on the inside of your cheek, “We bet on the game. I lost the game, so I had to hold up my end of the deal.”
“Which was?” Venable asked, growing tired of your antics.
You sighed, “To ask you on a date.”
Venable cocked her head to the side, studying you for a moment, “You didn’t ask me on a date.” You nodded, “So then you didn’t hold up your end of the deal.”
You nodded again. “I’m not going to ask someone out for a dare, its cruel and juvenile. I just needed them,” You said, motioning to the row of desks opposite the frosted glass walls, “To think I did.”
“You risked your job,” Venable sneered, “For a childish dare?”
“Actually,” You began, cocking your head and smirking, “I risked my job so I wouldn’t have to do the dare. Men are stupid, and extremely gullible.”
Venable’s eyes narrowed, “Why would they dare you to ask me out?”
You rolled your eyes, “Because they’re intimidated by strong women, and they wanted to humiliate you.”
She pursed her lips, “Flattery will get you nowhere.”
“It isn’t flattery,” you chuckled, “You scare the shit out of them.” Venable tried her best to fight the smirk on her lips, but you still caught it, and you thought you should get out while you were ahead, “Now, am I fired, or can I get back to work?”
Venable looked confused, “I haven’t assigned you anything.”
“Jeff and Mutt want me to work on their “super-secret project”. ” You said, rolling your eyes and making air quotes with your fingers, “I have to go through security clearances.”
“Why would they need you?” Venable asked, her voice dripping in condescension. While it wasn’t unusual for Jeff and Mutt to borrow her employees, it wasn’t typical to borrow assistants, and certainly not on a project so secret that even she was being kept out of the loop.
You shrugged, “Your guess is as good as mine.”
“Very well. You are excused.” Venable said, her face setting. “And Y/n?” You turned, looking back at your boss, “Don’t let it happen again. Next time, you’ll be lucky to be a dishwasher at McDonalds.”
You smirked, “McDonalds doesn’t have a dishwasher, but I get the sentiment.”
Venable rolled her eyes as you shut the door, cursing Jeff and Mutt for putting her in this position. Had she been able to do what she wanted, you never would have felt comfortable enough to make such a statement, let alone challenge her. She didn’t have too much time to dwell on it, the most recent delivery of a certain white substance being delivered straight to her office, and she knew the boys were already itching to reup on their dose.
“The woman of the hour!” Jeff yelled, fist pumping the air as he spotted the giant jar firmly planted in her arm, “Have I told you I loved you lately?”
“Save it.” Venable sneered, dodging his grabby hands and keeping the cocaine just out of reach, “What’s going on with this secret project?”
“Nothing you need to worry your fiery little head with.” Mutt said, “Just know it’s going, full steam ahead.”
“How can I manage it if I don’t know what it is?” Venable asked.
“You aren’t managing it.” Jeff said, “We are.”
“You two,” Venable said carefully, “Are managing it, all on your own?”
Mutt laughed, “Yeah, it’s going to be fucking sick.”
“So why are you stealing my employee?” Venable asked, the two engineers sharing glances.
“We need her skillset.” Mutt finally answered, obviously dragging his feet.
“She’s an assistant.” Venable stated.
“Yeah,” Jeff said, “She’s also an engineer, and she’s not bad to look at.”
Venable scoffed, “You’re stealing my employee because she’s attractive?”
“No, were stealing her because we need her brain.” Mutt said, “The fact that she’s a babe is just a bonus.”
“So, you aren’t going to tell me anything?” Venable asked, Jeff and Mutt staring back at her.
“It’s not that we want to not tell you anything, we just can’t.” Jeff offered apologetically, conveniently reaching for the cocaine at the same time with pleading eyes.
Venable huffed, swinging the cocaine out of his reach at the last second, and placing it on the farthest table as she stomped out of the room, ignoring the string of apologies from her bosses. This just wouldn’t do. She had always been in the loop, from day one. Those idiots couldn’t be trusted to run an entire project by themselves, they could barely remember their own addresses. Quite literally, Venable was the one who had to give the addresses to their cab drivers because they were too blitzed to form a coherent thought. She sat and she stewed for the remainder of the day, before she settled on a plan. She was tired of being on the outs, she needed to regain her power.
When you got the message on teams, you worried she had changed her mind, and you felt your palms begin to sweat.
My office. Now.
You trudged past your coworkers and towards her office, Nate and Scott snickering behind you.
“Someone’s in trouble.”
You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help but feel like they were right. She was playing with you, the same way she did to every other employee, making you feel safe and then yanking the carpet out from beneath you. Still, you opened the door and stepped into her den, her eyes flicking over you for only a second, “Close the door.”
You shut the door behind you, asking hesitantly, “What can I do for you, Miss Venable?”
Venable didn’t even look up, “It’s more so what I can do for you.”
“Pardon?” You asked, unsure of the direction this conversation was heading, and there was no way you could prepare for the words about to leave her mouth.
“I’ll speak in plain terms so that you understand.” Venable sneered, “I’ll let you fulfill your little dare, and in turn, you give me information on whatever it is that Jeff and Mutt are stealing you for.”
“The project?” You asked, your head spinning.
Venable sighed, glaring at you, “Is there anything else they are stealing you for?”
“No?” You said, shaking your head, “But why would you need me to gather information?”
Venable rolled her eyes, “Jeff and Mutt have decided they will be handling it themselves; they don’t want a grownup’s help. I need to make sure they don’t royally fuck it up. I’ve spent far too long building a reputation for this company, I don’t need them snorting it away. Now do we have a deal, or will you be looking for a new position?”
You shook your head, still unable to process what she was asking of you, “You do realize they’re only doing this so they can make fun of you, right?”
Venable arched a brow, “I’ve never cared about men’s opinions before. Why start now?”
“Yea, but, those coconut heads design sex robots.” You tried again, “For all I know, they could want me to code for a doll that gives head.”
Venable stared at you, clearly annoyed with the conversation, “You have a week to gather as much information as you can. That will be all.”
You stared at her as she refocused on her work, completely ignoring your lingering presence, before you shook your head incredulously, “Ok.”
You couldn’t keep the smile off your face as you left her office, beelining straight for Nate’s desk and whispering in his ear, “Just to be clear, you’re my bitch now.”
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!)
Being taken away from her thoughts, Billie Dean looked at Wilhemina. Now that their emotions had calmed down from everything that had happened, Billie found herself… scared. What if she does think I’m a whore? It was stupid to consider that… and yet, she did. We just had a special moment, why am I even thinking about it? Billie Dean was not one to get scared, but after the rush of emotions she had her mind only now seemed to be assimilating everything. “I’m okay. It’s just work.”
Venable wasn’t sure she believed Billie’s words. Did I do something wrong? The question popped in her mind and she nearly bit her lip to stop it from slipping out. Did she find my breasts unattractive? The possibility hadn’t crossed her mind… until now. She did call me a Goddess… The elevator was starting to lose its speed as it approached the seventh floor. Hesitantly, Wilhemina nodded. Before the door could open, she leaned to place a kiss on Billie Dean’s cheek. “Text me when you’re ready for lunch?”
With a nod and a smile, Billie turned to peck Venable on the lips. They let each other go before following inside. At the main office, people still worked quietly. As Wilhemina got settled back into her table, her eyes discreetly tracked Billie Dean until she was out of sight into the hallway. With a sigh, she leaned back on her chair. Certain green eyes watched her, but Venable ignored it.
Entering her office, Billie was met with Jenny quietly typing something on her phone as she sat around the huge table there. “Hi,” she said softly, closing her door as she got inside.
“Hey.” Letting her phone aside, Jenny smiled up at Billie Dean. “Where were you? I couldn’t find you anywhere. I texted and called, but you didn’t answer.”
“I had to go home, I’m sorry.” Billie sat down on her chair and set her purse aside, reaching for her phone inside it. Indeed, there were two missed calls and a few texts from Jenny.
“Are you okay? Did something happen?”
“I’m fine.” Honey eyes moved back to Jenny. The girl frowned playfully.
“Billie Dean… you had to go home just when Ms. Venable came to see you? And she was not on her desk, either…” Jenny opened a smirk.
Billie felt her cheeks tinting as she realized what was implied there. She chuckled and shook her head. “It was not that.”
“Mhm.”
“Truly. We just—we had to have a talk.” Billie Dean looked away. Jenny kept on staring at her with a puzzled look. She sighed. “About Terry…”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.” Billie bit her lip. “I told her everything… after you left, she was really weird and I ended up finding out Emma had said a few things to her…”
“About you and Terry?”
Billie Dean nodded. “She was… she was scared, and there was no postponing that talk anymore.”
“Did you tell her the whole thing?”
“Yes. Everything. I showed her all the documents and pictures.”
Jenny’s eyes grew in size. “The pictures too?”
“I wanted to be completely clear with her. She deserves it.”
“Are you—are you two okay?”
With her lips tugging up, Billie nodded. “We are. I’m just having a few bad thoughts but they’ll go away soon.”
“What thoughts?”
Nibbling on her inner cheek, Billie Dean looked away. She took a deep breath as she pondered her answer. What thoughts? Too many. And they didn’t even make sense. “Insecurities, I suppose.”
“About what?” Jenny set her phone down.
Shifting on the chair, Billie sighed. “I’ve told her I was scared she’d think I’m a whore…”
“That again, Billie?”
“Yeah… but it’s not just that.” Billie Dean shook her head. “It’s stupid, it’s nothing.”
“Are you sure?” Jenny raised her eyebrows. Billie nodded. “Alright… if you ever want to talk, you know I’m here for you.”
“I know. Thank you.” Billie Dean reached to squeeze her hand softly. Jenny offered her a smile and squeezed it back.
Behind her glasses, Wilhemina’s eyes were heavy. I’m tired. Venable had to admit last night hadn’t been the best sleep she had ever had, given she was a little nervous for what the week had in store. She took a deep breath and looked down to the clock on the monitor. 11:30 A.M. Still half an hour to go. Wilhemina decided she’d have to drink some coffee. Floratta Blue was still vivid in her nostrils, clouding her clothes and skin. She bit her lower lip as she walked to the kitchen, phone in hand just in case Billie decided she wanted to have lunch a little earlier. Her mind kept on sending her little reminders from all the places Billie Dean’s lips had been over, causing her cheeks to tingle and her chest to grow warm. Once she had poured herself some coffee, Venable walked to the secluded balcony there, leaning against the wall and taking a deep breath. The cold breeze hit her skin in the most pleasant of ways, contrasting with the warmth there. She closed her eyes, mug on both hands as her cane rested beside her on the wall. Birds sang outside, adding a touch of organicity to the city noises. I wish I had kissed her more. Wilhemina licked her lips, mind entering the thoughts. Her lips might be the best thing I’ve ever felt… Without opening her eyes, Venable brought the mug of coffee up to her lips and took a sip. Billie Dean had grown seemingly nervous at the elevator, and something about it still didn’t sit right with Wilhemina. She nibbled on her inner cheek. Maybe it’s just my head… No, she knew a bit about Billie and it was definitely not something from her head. She frowned, eyes opening as she took another sip of coffee. Setting the mug on the rail, Venable reached for her phone. Biting her lower lip, she clicked on Billie Dean’s contact and stared at it. What even should I send her? It felt so damn stupid to send a text like that. Don’t be scared of showing affection. Billie had said she’d never judge her on that. With another deep breath, Wilhemina finally began to type. ’Hi, just checking if you’re alright. If you need anything, let me know.’ That was the best Venable would manage. It sounds so… cold. Wilhemina didn’t mind sounding cold, but with Billie Dean… She typed again. ’Hi angel, just checking if you’re alright. If you need anything, let me know.’ Without thinking twice, she hit send. “Ugh,” Venable groaned out loud. Shoving her phone back into the pocket of her skirt, she reached for her mug and took another sip. The sky was cloudy today, which meant it would probably rain soon. I love how it smells when it’s rainy. A rainy day never failed to bring peace into Wilhemina’s mind. Taking another sip, Wilhemina hummed at the rich flavor. That coffee was simply the best thing she had ever had in the office. That’s Billie Dean’s lips. Letting out a chuckle, Venable shook her head at herself. Jesus, I’m back at being what? Sixteen? Wilhemina could only assume that’s what being a normal sixteen year-old was like. Leaning her head back against the wall, Venable could feel her phone vibrating in her pocket. Her stomach took a turn. She set the mug back onto the rail and reached for it; Billie Dean’s name lit up on the screen. ’Thank you, darling. I actually do need something, can you come to my office?’ Instantly, Venable reached for her mug and cane and made her way back inside. She quickly washed the mug and left it out to dry before making her way down the hall. Softly, she knocked three times on the door and waited. It didn’t take much for Billie Dean to open it with a smile. Thank Goodness she’s not crying. “Hi, did something happen?”
At the worried look on Wilhemina’s eyes, Billie felt herself melting even more than she already had with the word ‘angel’ on the text. She shook her head and reached for Venable’s free hand, pulling her inside. “Nothing happened, I just wanted to see you.” She closed and locked the door.
Wilhemina gulped. Her ears buzzed lovingly as the corners of her lips inevitably pulled themselves up. “Oh.” Warmth grew inside her chest and cheeks. Honey eyes watched her so sweetly, moving closer and closer. Venable let her cane go, because fuck the cane right now, and her hand reached for Billie Dean’s waist, pulling her closer as her back hit the wall. The sound of the cane falling on the floor was barely heard as their lips met, moving gently and passionately against one another. Their fingers tangled, and Billie made sure to hold Wilhemina tightly on the waist, supporting her up.
Fuck, I love her. Billie Dean gently pulled away, eyes on brown ones. She’s blushing. She bit her lower lip with a smile. “I know you take your work very seriously, I don’t mean to bother you.”
Venable shook her head and leaned to kiss her again. “I take you more seriously,” she whispered.
Billie chuckled and pecked her once more before pulling away to look at brown eyes again. She caressed the fingers against her own. “I thought we could have lunch now?”
Wilhemina nodded. “Sure.” Her ears were still buzzing pleasantly. Definitely the best thing I’ve ever had in the office. She cleared her throat. “Did you—did you actually need something or…?”
“I needed you.”
Venable was sure her legs would give up at any given moment. Taking a shaky breath, she tried holding back the enormous smile that fought to grace her features; it was no use, it appeared anyways. “Silly…” Wilhemina murmured shyly. With a tiny giggle, Billie Dean pecked Venable before pulling away. She reached for her cane down on the floor and handed it to Wilhemina, completely letting her go once she made sure Venable wouldn’t fall. How come Billie never once hesitated when it came to her cane? How come it was so natural to her? So mundane? So normal? I am normal to her. Wilhemina’s chest kept on getting warmer and warmer. “I lo—“ She bit her lip to stop herself. Billie Dean turned back as she grabbed her purse on the chair.
“Huh?”
I love you. Venable shook her head. “I—I love the food you always choose to the office. Maybe we could—maybe we could have lunch here?”
“I was thinking the same.” What was it she was going to say? Billie wouldn’t pry, for if she wanted to say it, she would eventually. “Today is spaghetti, and I’m a sucker for pasta.”
Thank God she didn’t notice it. Wilhemina nodded. The rush of adrenaline that had passed through her body caused her heart to speed up, so she focused on discreetly taking deep breaths. “Perfect. I’ll go turn the computer off.”
“Okay.” Billie walked to Venable and kissed her cheek before reaching to unlock the door. She opened it and stepped aside. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”
“Okay.” With a smile, Wilhemina followed to the main office. People were already getting ready to leave for lunch, which meant they’d probably have the whole floor to themselves. As she sat down to turn the computer off, Emma walked to her table. Venable frowned and looked up at her. “Can I help you?”
“Are you really not giving me a chance to talk to you?” Emma’s words were quiet. Wilhemina kept on staring at her, eyebrows drawing closer together. “Let me take you for lunch… just once. We can talk it all out.” Her hand slowly moved closer to Venable’s, which rested on the mouse.
“Leave me alone.” Instantly, Wilhemina pulled away. Emma sighed.
“It’s not fucking fair you won’t even listen to me.”
Venable was at her limit. “It’s not fucking fair you won’t leave me alone when I ask you to. Can’t you understand I was already settled on ending things with you before anything with Billie even happened?” Brown eyes stared furiously at emerald ones, piercing through them. Emma took a deep breath, teeth grinding in anger. “I know you’ve been threatening her, how do you think that makes me feel?”
“She’s lying,” Emma quickly said. The office was now empty, saving from the both of them.
“Don’t you dare,” Wilhemina hissed through her teeth. “Don’t you dare accuse her like that. I’ve seen the texts you’ve sent her. And even if nothing had happened with her, do you think I’d want to have something with someone so fucking low? Someone who says she’s no child when I ask for consent?”
Emma’s eyes opened to the size of the moon. “What are you talking about?”
“You know what I’m talking about.”
“All I know is that you came to my house a week ago and buried your fingers deep inside me!”
Wilhemina held back a hiss. “Keep your tone down while you speak to me.”
“Oh please,” Emma rolled her eyes.
“It was a mistake. Can’t you see that?”
“How was it a mistake?! Everything was alright until she decided she wanted you to herself! You’re just being a puppet in her game!”
“Keep. Your. Tone. Down.” Reaching for her cane, Venable got up. “Stop talking about her like that,” her voice was back at slipping through her grinding teeth. “Stop it. You have no idea who Billie Dean is. You have no idea what she’s like.”
At the hallway, Billie Dean frowned as she approached the doorframe. She had decided to go check on Wilhemina once the office got quiet, only to hear the faint hostile tone. When honey eyes saw Emma, her insides twisted. She froze in place.
“Oh, I know what she’s like, I’ve known her way longer than you have. I’ve seen her playing that same game on Terry. She t—“
“You don’t know shit!” This time, Venable’s voice increased in volume. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the cane. Emma took a step back. “You don’t know fucking shit and I won’t allow you to talk about my—Billie Dean like that.”
Crossing her arms, Emma scoffed. “Are you two already labeling things?”
“It’s none of your business.” Shit.
“You’ve been seeing her for what? Three days?” Emma shook her head. “What a joke. She must have some really magic fingers to manipulate you like that.”
“You’re disgusting.” Wilhemina’s heart was beating so fast she could hear it inside her head. “Just leave me and Billie Dean alone.” Venable moved to walk to the hallway, only then realizing Billie had been standing there. Oh no.
“You’re the disgusting one! You cheated on me,” Emma continued, walking to block Wilhemina’s path. She frowned as she realized where brown eyes were at, and so she moved to look back. A cynical chuckle left her lips. “Great, just who I wanted to see.” At the doorframe, Billie Dean caught herself not really knowing what to do. She was about to say something when Venable began to speak again.
“How can I cheat on someone I didn’t know I had something with?” Emma turned back to look at her, features so absolutely hurt that Wilhemina almost felt bad. Almost.
“You two really deserve each other,” that was the last thing Emma murmured before storming out of the office.
Taking a slow, deep breath to calm her nerves down, Venable closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she looked down to the floor and gripped the cane harsher and harsher. As Floratta Blue began to invade her nostrils, Wilhemina was brought back to reality. She looked up at Billie. “Angel… are you alright?”
Angel. Billie Dean had decided to give her space, but when Venable looked back at her with nothing but concern and worry—for the second time that day—she opened a small smile and nodded. “Thank you for standing up for me.” She walked to Wilhemina and hugged her tightly, arms on her waist and far from her back. She’s shaking like a leaf.
Taken slightly by surprise, Venable blinked twice as she hugged Billie back, cane resting on her hip and secured on the skirt. She caressed her spine where her own would be curved, nose burying into blonde hair. All her anger slowly began to disappear. “I’ll always stand up for you,” she murmured softly.
Billie Dean nodded. She closed her eyes and allowed her body to relax against Wilhemina’s, trying to cope with all the adrenaline. After a minute, she turned her head and placed a tiny kiss on Venable’s neck. “Thank you,” she said once again and pulled away. “Are you okay?”
Wilhemina nodded. She reached for her cane. “Just mad… but that’s not new with her.”
“Fair,” Billie chuckled softly. “Me too.”
Venable offered a chuckle back. I wish I had never even exchanged a single word with that bitch. “Lunch?”
“Lunch,” Billie nodded yet again. They walked to the kitchen, and on the table at the center Billie Dean had already grabbed their food. “What do you say we have lunch at my office? I think it’s more secluded.”
Is she trying to hide me? What a stupid thought. Wilhemina held back the urge to laugh at just how absolutely delusional her mind could be at times. But also… it meant she was stressed, and that the conversation with Emma clearly touched something. “I was thinking the same.”
“Yeah? Perfect.” Although Billie’s heart was still somewhat faster than usual, she was trying to get herself together; she had things she wanted to discuss with Venable, after all. Is this even a good time, now? They gathered their food and walked down the hallway and to Billie Dean’s office. Once everything was settled and the door was closed and locked, Billie took a first bite. Her eyes closed as she hummed. “I do love pasta,” she murmured.
Wilhemina motioned her right after. She smiled as she looked at Billie Dean, whom sat at the other side of the wooden surface. “You always enjoy your food… it’s quite lovely.” That made no sense. Venable had already said it out loud, though.
“I really do,” Billie chuckled. She took another bite and reached to pour them both some juice. A smile touched her lips as she filled Wilhemina’s mug. “I love your mug,” she said softly.
Venable smiled back. “Thank you. Me too… even though coral and purple crash horribly,” she laughed.
“Agreed,” Billie laughed back. “But hey… they work together really well.”
With her mind being quick to catch what Billie Dean was implying, Wilhemina smiled. “Very well,” she repeated.
Billie Dean hummed. She took yet another bite, eyes on Venable. She’s so classy… Billie was sure she had never met anyone as such, not even the most famous or the richest of the richest had the class Wilhemina did. After a second of silence, Billie Dean took the courage to start speaking about what she actually wanted to. “I… I actually wanted to talk to you…”
Venable’s stomach dropped. Her appetite momentarily disappeared. She held the fork without really moving it as she stared at honey eyes. “Yes?”
She’s nervous. Billie instantly reached for her free hand. “It’s nothing bad,” she said gently, fingertips caressing the top of Wilhemina’s hand. Venable smiled shyly, but still nervously. “I just… earlier, at my house, did I—did something else happen? Or—or have I said something or is everything alright and I’m just overthinking?”
How can she express herself so clearly? It would always be a mystery to Wilhemina. Her nerves calmed down a bit, but not completely. “You’re just overthinking,” her tone was soft, gentle. The corners of her lips raised up a bit, and her hand turned to tangle her fingers with Billie Dean’s. “But I want to talk to you, too… about earlier as well.”
Laughing a little, Billie nodded. “Go on.”
Venable licked her lips as she searched for the best words she could find. Talking was hard for her most of the time. “Earlier… when we—when we got to the company. You grew quiet and I—I might be wrong, but I felt like you were… perhaps, overthinking something? And I just want to know if everything is alright, or if something happened, or if I… maybe I did something wrong? I figured I’d check on you.”
Two peas in a pod. Billie Dean felt the corners of her lips lifting up, even though she was taken by surprise in a way—which was, safe to say, kind of naive of her, given just how sensible Wilhemina always proved herself to be. Caressing the fingers tangled between her own, Billie nervously licked her lips. She does her best to be honest with me. I should be honest with her, too. “You did nothing wrong, darling. But I… I was in fact overthinking.” Subtly, Venable shifted on the chair. Billie Dean bit her inner cheek and forced herself to keep her eyes on Wilhemina’s. “I guess I have some insecurities when it comes to a few things—we all do, I know—but I… well, I suppose it’s what we talked about earlier, about me… me, um, being a whore.”
“Billie…” Venable frowned. She squeezed the hand on hers. She’s perfect. How can she have any insecurities? Who was Wilhemina to judge? She embraced them and she would do so with anything Billie Dean brought to the table. “I don’t think that.”
“I know, I just—I’m scared of screwing things up,” Billie blurted out before she could stop herself, eyes falling to the food.
Sucking on her lower lip, Venable’s eyebrows drew closer together a bit more. “So am I… I mean, you…” She took a deep breath. My stomach hurts. Her heart sped up. “You have m-more experience with p-people when it comes to n-nearly everything and I—I’m scared I w-won’t be enough for you in m-many ways…”
Many ways. It was Billie Dean’s turn to frown. She shook her head. “Does that have anything to do with the thoughts you had earlier? At my house?” Her tone was sweet, comforting; Billie wanted nothing more than to understand her.
Hesitantly, Wilhemina nodded. Billie gave her time, for she seemed to be pondering things, fingers caressing hers and eyes far away. After a minute, Venable gulped and blinked once. “M-my body is far from being n-normal,” she nearly whispered, eyes glossy. Billie Dean kept on looking at her with those pools of honey kindness, hand never leaving her own. Wilhemina took a deep, shaky breath. “Y-you… I assume y-you’ve slept with b-beautiful women who h-had no issues, and I—I’m n-not like them. I c-can’t move properly, my back is…” A tear slid down. Venable gulped and tightened her jaw, ignoring it. “My b-back is hideous. And I have s-so much in my mind all the time that I c-can’t help but think y-you’d be better off with any other w-woman.”
“Wilhie…” The tear scared Billie. When did Wilhemina cry? Today had been the first time she had ever seen her doing so. And it was because of the pain I was feeling. How much pain was Venable feeling right now? How much pain did that subject bring her? “So it does have to do with the women I’ve slept with…” I’m a whore.
At the words, Wilhemina instantly shook her head. “Angel, no.” She sniffled quickly, free hand reaching to wipe her cheek dry. No. No no no. “I m-mean—yes, but not in the way you’re implying.”
Billie Dean took a deep breath, eyes growing teary as well as she was back at looking down to the plate of food on the table. It was now simply something organic with no meaning behind it. “I k-know,” she croaked out. “But I s-still feel like shit.” Venable bit her inner cheek, heart aching as she watched her. Billie took yet another deep breath, trying to regulate her emotions. She just opened up to me about something serious. Now is not the time to have pity for myself. Honey eyes looked up to Wilhemina again. What even could she say to her? What even could begin to translate the emotions and feelings she had for that woman? “Darling… you are perfect to me,” Billie Dean’s tone was so damn gentle it resembled a whisper more than anything else. It was visible how Wilhemina tensed up on her chair again. “I don’t talk about your body because I know it makes you uncomfortable, but I do notice it, and I love it.” Venable’s cheeks flushed pink, contrasting with her pale skin. Billie smiled a little to herself as she carefully picked and chose her words, for perhaps that was one of the most important conversations they had ever had. “I think you are absolutely gorgeous—face and body. Earlier… earlier I was—I had never felt like that so fast. So easily.” It was Billie Dean’s turn to blush now. She struggled to keep her eyes on deep brown ones. “You barely touch me and I already have a reaction. I think you’re a masterpiece, and nothing can and will change my mind on that. I’ve never given your back thought, at least not in a bad way, and when it comes to your mobility, my love, that’s the smallest of details to me. If I have to switch houses because you don’t feel comfortable going upstairs, I will. If I have to build a whole new company building for us to work at because something is not ideal for you, I will. I’m aware you might have your limitations but who doesn’t? I mean—I talk to fucking ghosts,” Billie chuckled shyly, which got herself a teary smile from Wilhemina. I’m doing something right. It eased her heart a bit. “There are places I can’t stand for too long, or certain situations in which I can’t manage to stay at during much time… I worry that might be a problem to y-you, too. But then I think back to why I fell in love with you… and how you’ve always treated me and eased me… and then I know it’ll be alright. It’ll be no issue, because I was never too much for you. And you’ll never be too much for me—or too little—no matter how you see it.”
Venable’s cheeks had been silently drenched by now. She squeezed the hand on her own, nodding as she sniffled yet again. Her heart was beating fast and her whole body seemed to have gotten anesthetized; what should she be feeling right now? All Wilhemina knew was that she did, in fact, love that woman. “I…” She licked her lips. Billie Dean smiled at her so damn sweetly, so damn lovingly… Venable’s mind struggled to translate her emotions into words. She was overwhelmed with something so good she doubted she had ever felt like that before—or rather, she knew she had never felt like that before. For a brief moment, Wilhemina truly believed and accepted that Billie wouldn’t leave her. “I… I think… I…” I sound like a broken record machine. Venable could feel how incredibly warm her cheeks were, as well as her chest and ears. I probably look like a tomato. Who cared? Who cared about anything that was not Billie Dean right now? “Y-you’ll never be too much f-for me,” that was the best she managed to croak out.
Billie couldn’t help but bite the tip of her tongue as she smiled brightly to herself. Even though Wilhemina couldn’t find the words, Billie Dean was sure she knew exactly what she was feeling; she was speechless in the best way possible. This is precious. Billie took a mental picture of it and tucked it away inside her favorite pocket of her heart. “I know,” she said softly.
Venable bobbed her head, body tingling. She nibbled on her lower lip. “I’m sorry—I… I can’t f-find the words…” With a tiny chuckle, Billie Dean shook her head. Wilhemina offered her a coy smile. “Just… just k-know I feel the same way and I… I feel s-so lucky to have y-you in my life.” I love you.
Billie was more than fine with the words Venable had managed to find. She got up from her chair and walked to Wilhemina, who was already standing up and ready to embrace her in a tight hug. With her eyes closed, Billie Dean took a deep breath against Venable’s neck. “Thank you for being who you are,” she whispered.
Another tear slid down Wilhemina’s cheek. She cradled Billie’s head with one of her hands, fingers caressing blonde hair. “I think that’s the first time in my life that I’m glad for being who I am.”
The words echoed inside Billie Dean’s heart, caressing and stabbing it at the same time. She pulled away just enough to stare at brown eyes, hands cupping Venable’s cheeks and caressing it with her thumbs, wiping the remaining of the tears away. Two arms wrapped around her own waist, pulling her closer. I love you. She couldn’t say that yet—so soon, so fast. So she leaned closer and kissed those wine lips in front of her, pouring the words on them, speaking through caresses. Wilhemina held her even tighter, lips moving slow, gentle… lips pouring I love you’s all over.
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!)
Breaking the kiss after a moment, Billie Dean stared at brown eyes. Her heart was still beating fast, and her eyes still threatened to grow teary. After a second, she spoke again. “So… do you still wanna be with me?” She murmured.
“What have I just said, silly?”
Billie Dean’s cheeks tinted pink. “I’m just making sure…”
“You’re cute.” Venable leaned to kiss her on the nose, just like Billie did to her. “Yes, I do.” Will she when she sees just how fucked up I am when it comes to intimacy?
Billie smiled to herself, lip between her teeth as she kept on staring at brown eyes. They should probably go back to work, yet Billie Dean didn’t feel ready to go just now. The stairs are hard for her. She figured she’d just ask. “Would you like to go upstairs with me? I definitely could use some touch ups on my make up…”
Upstairs. Wilhemina bit her inner cheek. They had gone there once, and Billie had already seen her struggling… what else could happen? If Billie Dean hadn’t left her then, she probably wouldn’t leave her now. Why am I still thinking about her leaving me after all that just happened? It was exhausting to be inside her mind. She nodded. “Of course.” Besides, I don’t really want to leave her side right now.
“Okay.” Billie smiled. She pulled away to grab the folder, neatly placing the documents back inside while Venable reached for her cane and got up. They walked to the stairs and Billie Dean made sure to step aside so Wilhemina could go first, but Venable hesitated. Billie bit her lip. “I can help you if you want, darling. Just say so.”
Help. Wilhemina didn’t need any help. Her jaw tensed up again, and her walls began to rise. No. Not now. She squeezed her cane and forced herself to calm down. Billie Dean is safe. Closing her eyes for a second, she took a deep breath and shook her head. “Do you—do you mind going first? I get nervous when there’s people behind me.” Venable had learned to identify her triggers in therapy, and saying them out loud was supposed to help when she felt small. Billie was safe to hear them, to know them, to help with them.
“Of course not.” Gladly, Billie Dean began to make her way upstairs. I’ll keep that in mind. She was making a collection of things Venable preferred and felt the most comfortable with, from grape cheesecake to not being touched on her back. Billie took these things to the heart, for Wilhemina deserved it. She walked upstairs as slow as she could, discreetly keeping an eye on Venable in case she needed any help. When both of them reached up, she smiled at Wilhemina and guided them to her bedroom. “Make yourself comfortable, I’ll just put it back.” Billie Dean motioned to the folder before disappearing into the closet.
Not so bad, after all. Venable took a deep breath. Her back was not aching too sharply, and she didn’t feel as vulnerable as she thought she would. Quietly, she sat down on the edge of the bed as she waited for Billie, eyes scanning the bedroom. I love her house. Something in her chest had shifted, and she found herself… comfortable. Billie Dean walked back into the room, eyes a little less blotchy and nose a little less red. She smiled at her. She’s perfect. Billie took a seat beside Wilhemina, and as she was about to start speaking a pair of lips cut her. Venable kissed her lovingly, both hands cupping her cheeks. Billie Dean was a little surprised at first, but gladly kissed her back, hands reaching for Wilhemina’s waist and caressing it. The kiss grew in intensity. I need her, Venable’s mind screamed. Her ears buzzed as her skin grew warm, heart overflowing with adoration for that woman. Gently pulling away, Wilhemina stared at honey eyes, hands still holding her cheeks. “I… I’m sorry.” Her hands nervously rested back on her lap.
Billie felt her own ears buzzing as well, hair on the back of her neck standing up. She leaned and kissed Venable again, one of her palms gently holding Wilhemina’s left cheek. Her lips were slow against hers. “Why?” She whispered between their kiss, faces inches apart. Venable stared deeply at her, trying to find an answer to the question; she didn’t. So she shook her head and looked down at Billie Dean’s lips again, breath a little labored, hands caressing her waist. Wilhemina reconnected their lips, pulling Billie closer and closer, wanting—needing—to have her as near as physically possible. Billie instantly obliged, and before she knew, her own body hovered over Venable’s, kiss never breaking, both feeling—not really thinking. Wilhemina leaned back slowly, spine reaching the mattress softly just how she felt safe. Billie Dean was careful as she got on top of her, free hand resting beside the halo of red hair lying there. “For showing affection?” She whispered. Venable frowned as she stared up at her, hands playing with the collar of her sweater. Billie licked her lips. She’s fucking stunning. “Are you sorry for showing affection?” Her tone was full of softness, anything but accusatory. A thumb traced Wilhemina’s cheekbone, breaths mingling and matching.
“I s-suppose so,” Venable whispered back. How could that woman read her so damn well? She’s on top of me. It didn’t feel suffocating… at least not in a bad way. Wilhemina gulped, brown eyes tracing the details of Billie Dean’s face in this newfound angle. Angel.
Opening a sad smile, Billie Dean leaned back down. She placed a gentle kiss right on the corner of Venable’s lips, then another on her cheek, another on her forehead, another on her nose, and another and final one on her right cheek. Wilhemina’s breath trembled, chest quivering as her fingers played nonstop with Billie’s sweater, close to her shoulders. “You can always feel safe to show affection around me.” She kept on staring at brown eyes, both hands now resting beside Venable’s head.
Gulping, Wilhemina struggled not to look away. She nodded, lip caught between her teeth. “Y-you too.” Stupid. She ignored the inner voice. Nibbling on her lower lip, Venable kept on caressing Billie Dean’s shoulders, eyes glued on hers as she did so. “I never thought eyes could bring me such comfort…” She whispered after a moment, voice low and so utterly soft.
Billie felt herself turning into a puddle of something so sweet it nearly hurt. A shy chuckle left her lips. To know Wilhemina, the Wilhemina Venable found comfort in her… not even the holiest of experiences from the other side could ever compare. “I never thought I’d love purple so much,” she whispered back. Visibly, Wilhemina’s cheeks tinted red. Billie Dean found no need to comment on that, but she made sure to print the image on her mind.
I love you, Venable wanted to say, I love you so soon it scares me, I love you too much already, I feel like I’m a teenager in love and that is not appropriate. But why did appropriate even matter right now? With that woman on top of her, leg between her own, purple skirt raising up closer to her hips… why was appropriate even a thought right now? Wilhemina did the best she could and leaned up to kiss her again, pain shooting through her spine from the movement. She frowned, and Billie was quick to lean down and allow Venable to fully and comfortably rest her back on the mattress as she was doing before. The frown went way, and so Wilhemina cupped both of Billie Dean’s cheeks, kissing her with so much passion she didn’t think she had ever kissed anyone with such a strong intention before. And Billie was quick to comply, lips moving slowly as their tongues caressed each other, never fighting. Slowly, Billie Dean moved to kiss Venable’s jaw, using one of her hands to hold it up with her thumb carefully placed against it; gladly, Wilhemina threw her head back. Gentle panting filled the silence, and now two hands tangled in blonde hair and pulled Billie closer. “Oh,” Venable breathed out at a particular spot Billie Dean had nibbled.
At the reaction, Billie hummed and did it again. The fingertips buried in her hair tightened a little. Down her lower stomach, Billie Dean felt how it began to grow hotter by the second, eventually starting to burn. She nibbled on the skin of Wilhemina’s jaw and moved to kiss her neck, hand going back to the bed and supporting her body as it kept on hovering over Venable’s. Lavender clouded her senses more than usual, leaving her so deliciously dizzy. Two thumbs caressed Billie’s cheeks the best they could, pouring love and adoration on the skin. Billie Dean moved to the other side of Wilhemina’s neck, which caused her legs to shift a little; Venable spread her own a bit, accommodating the new position. Even against her jeans, Billie felt how warm Wilhemina’s skin there was, and just how much the skirt had moved up against her beautiful legs. Her legs… Billie Dean kissed Venable with even more gusto than before, causing another gasp to free itself from Wilhemina’s beautiful lips. Slowly, she pulled away and stared back at Venable’s eyes; they seemed to have gotten darker, pupils dilated, sight fixated on her. Billie took a deep breath. She felt how Wilhemina’s hands caressed her back, playing with the hem of her sweater as she desperately fought the urge to slip them underneath it. Billie Dean wanted them to go under. It’s on her terms. All she could do was lean down and kiss that woman again. One of her hands slipped down and to Venable’s waist, caressing it right where her skirt met her sweater. Her fingertips brushed against milky, warm skin, and Billie could feel her own underwear clinging to her. Oh God. She nibbled gently at Wilhemina’s lower lip, pulling softly on it before kissing her again.
Another gasp left Venable’s lips, low and muffled. Her lower stomach burned. Her toes nearly curled against her shoes, fingertips moving to play with Billie Dean’s belt, keeping herself busy. Her back had begun to arch, begging for more—more touches, more love, more Billie. Without being able to hold herself any longer, both of her hands slipped under the cloth of Billie Dean’s sweater, being instantly met by the warmth and softness of her skin. Against their kiss, Billie sighed contently, which caused them to just rest there for a second, lips touching but no longer moving, eyes closed, breaths labored and turning into one. A small smile tugged up on Wilhemina’s lips. She caressed the skin as light as a feather, barely touching it. Goosebumps filled Billie Dean’s body, and as Venable felt it, her insides twisted harshly. “Billie Dean,” she murmured against her lips. Billie simply nodded as her own hand now caressed Wilhemina’s ribcage, feeling the way each rib lightly rose the skin there. “Is that o-okay?”
Instantly, Billie Dean nodded. She pulled back just enough to stare at Venable’s beautiful brown oceans. “Is that?” She asked back. Wilhemina nodded as she gulped. She’s never looked so beautiful. Venable had her skin rosy, her lips glossy and red, her eyes blown wide… Billie was sure she had found the definition of a goddess. “Are you comfortable?” Wilhemina nodded again. Billie Dean relaxed a little more. Her nails slowly scratched Venable’s skin, moving dangerously close to her clothed breast. Wilhemina shivered. Down on her waist, Billie felt how she tightened her grip, pulling her even closer. A small smirk graced Billie Dean’s features, and she repeated the action.
This time, Venable couldn’t hold back the nearly inaudible moan that left her lips. “Mgh…” She could see the way Billie’s pupils grew with the sound. Her cheeks burned with shame, but she ignored it—or rather, didn’t have the mind to care about it right now. “Go up,” she whispered.
Billie Dean blinked once. “Are you—are you sure?” Venable nodded. Billie felt her whole body engulfing in what could only be compared to flames. As slow as she could manage, Billie Dean allowed her hand to creep up. Her digits brushed on the underside of Wilhemina’s delicate lacy bra, and the blonde hair on the back of her neck stood up. Billie licked her lips, eyes never leaving Venable’s as she moved further. Eventually, her fingertips brushed on the fat held by the cup, slowly cupping it all. Wilhemina sighed as her eyes fluttered closed, and so Billie Dean leaned to kiss those rosy lips again, feeling as hands pulled her even closer. With her palm against Wilhemina’s breast, Billie slowly began to massage it. She felt as Venable’s kisses grew a little sloppy, which caused her to smile as she kept on going.
“Mgh,” Wilhemina whimpered. Her back arched, hands drowning in the smooth skin of Billie’s back. Billie Dean pulled on her lower lip again, and Venable was sure she wouldn’t handle much more. Her hands went further, finding the hook of Billie’s bra; she played with it, mind trying to figure out which color it could be. White. Lace. There was no doubt in her mind.
Take it off, Billie Dean wanted to say, do whatever you please. But she was in no position of asking for anything. Her thumb now found Wilhemina’s nipple on top of the lace; it was up already, begging for attention. Billie kissed lower and to Venable’s neck again, peppering it with kisses. Her thumb insisted against the bud, massaging it slowly as her kisses matched the pace of it—lazy and open mouthed.
“Oh…” Wilhemina couldn’t stop herself; her body simply refused to quiet down. How long had it been since she had last allowed a woman to touch her like that? Emma. It didn’t even compare. Her hips bucked once, and she felt the way Billie Dean’s body reacted to it, bucking back against her. “Mgh,” she moaned, for how one could have Billie Dean Howard on top of them and not do so? Her ears buzzed sweetly, muffling the hum Billie let out right underneath one of them. Billie Dean’s arm that supported her against the mattress burned, but she paid it no mind. How could she even care about it right now? She nibbled right on Venable’s pulse point, soon allowing the pad of her tongue to soothe it. Wilhemina’s short nails carefully scratched up and down her back, erupting more and more goosebumps. She pulled on the elastic of the bra there and let it gently snap back against Billie’s skin, which got Venable a gasp from her. Bitting her lower lip, she let out a quiet chuckle.
Opening a bright smile against Venable’s skin, Billie Dean massaged the breast a little more forcefully, cradling the fat in her palm and thumb focusing on the nipple. “You’re such a tease,” she whispered playfully, right at the cusp of Wilhemina’s ear.
The words brought a kind of flashback into Venable’s mind; Emma had said something similar to her once or twice, but Gosh did it feel different now. Giggling quietly, Wilhemina hummed back. She looked down, trying to take a look of honey eyes. Billie got the cue and looked up, instantly offering her a smile. Venable moved one of her hands to cup a cheek, pulling Billie Dean for a kiss on the lips. “Would you go under my bra?” She barely whispered, eyes closed. I’m being greedy. Shame wanted to down on her, but it lost the battle to the lust that filled Wilhemina’s body in that moment.
With her lower stomach twisting and turning, Billie Dean nodded. She rested her lips against Venable’s as she carefully slipped her palm underneath the lace, instantly cupping Wilhemina’s bare breast. “Mmh,” it was her turn to moan. Against Billie’s lips, Venable let out a tiny gasp, head bending back again. Billie Dean moved down to lazily trace the skin of her neck with her lips. Calm down. Take it easy. It’s her pace. The fat was warm against her palm, inviting and so absolutely tempting. Billie fought to keep her hips still, but they bucked nonetheless. Wilhemina’s skirt lifted a bit more, which didn’t help settle the fire between Billie Dean’s legs. Her fingers carefully rolled Venable’s nipple between them, feeling as it got impossibly harder. Even though hardly noticeable, Billie Dean felt the way Wilhemina’s hips moved in bed, and against her lips she felt just how much her pulse point trembled. What does she taste like? The thought forced Billie to nibble on the skin where her lips rested, mouth watering. She rolled the nipple a little more forcefully, and down on her back she felt as Venable held her closer, hands caressing her muscles underneath her bra. “Let me kiss them,” she whispered without really thinking. “Let me kiss your breasts.” Her voice was raspy and thick with want.
With her whole body shivering, Wilhemina took a shaky, deep breath. Her fingers moved up and tangled in blond hair, caressing it. “Y-yes.” She didn’t think she was physically able to deny Billie Dean anything right now, for not even her words seemed to properly come out.
The kisses moved lower as Billie let out a whimper, both hands now slowly starting to lift the purple sweater just enough. Her back. Billie Dean knew the waters she was stepping at were hazy. Carefully settling her hips between Venable’s legs, Billie licked her lips. Slowly, she moved closer and placed a slow, open mouthed kiss right where the waist of Wilhemina’s skirt met the smooth skin of her stomach. Venable’s breath got even heavier as she stared down at Billie, thumbs gently pushing her hair away from her face. Billie Dean’s mouth watered more and more by the second. Both hands held Wilhemina’s waist, caressing it up and down as her lips moved slowly, tracing all the skin she found there, nose buried in lavender heaven. She kissed a freckle or two she found on Venable’s stomach, taking a mental picture of that as her hands now lifted the sweater enough for Wilhemina’s breasts to peek underneath the purple lace. Billie took a deep breath. Honey eyes landed on the sight in front of her, and she couldn’t help but gulp. “You’re a goddess, Wilhemina,” she rasped. Venable bit her lower lip harshly. Nervousness kept on echoing inside, but she kept herself busy by playing with Billie Dean’s silky blonde locks. Leaning down, Billie placed a single kiss in the valley between Wilhemina’s breasts. Her cheeks burned. Her heart skipped a beat. In that position, she could feel just how fast Venable’s heart was beating. She’s nervous. So was Billie Dean if she were being honest, but her mind had so many things going through and nothing at all at the same time that fathoming all of her emotions was a hard task. With her coral nails scratching up Wilhemina’s sides again, Billie eventually cupped both of her breasts, eyes on her. Venable’s head fell back at the mattress, body arching as she bit her lower lip. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone sexier. What a beautiful and holly scene she had in front of her. As light as a feather, Billie Dean slipped Wilhemina’s right breast off of the cup of lace, giving it full color and freedom. Her thumb massaged the nipple as her lips attached themselves to the valley between them one more time, placing lazy kisses and overall just feeling the smoothness there. Venable’s body felt as if it would combust at any given moment, and so she had no choice but to buck her hips again, right against Billie’s. At the movement, Billie Dean hummed and wasted no more time; her lips kissed all the way to the exposed nipple, and as she looked up to the beautiful angel on her bed, her tongue began to circle it, eventually focusing on the bud.
“Mgh… oh…” Wilhemina felt her insides contracting at nothing at all, fingers tightening the grip on blonde locks. She forced herself to take a deep breath, lips parted as her back arched the best it managed to. It’s been so long… Billie kissed her body as if she were the most precious piece of silk that had ever been, treated it like a holly temple—so different than what it was used to. Her eyes filled with tears. Down on her chest, Billie Dean nibbled on her nipple and sucked on it, hand massaging the other one as it was now out of the cup, too. Venable panted delicately, filling the silence of the bedroom.
“Mm,” Billie hummed, for how could she not? Her tongue circled the bud before focusing on it one more time, lips closing around it and gently sucking. For a minute, she thought she had died and went to heaven. Everything that mattered right now was lavender. Lavender, lavender, lavender. With a trail of kisses, she moved to the other side and began to give it equal treatment, free hand pulling Wilhemina impossibly closer by the waist. “Wilhemina…” she murmured.
“Mgh…” Venable felt herself gradually losing control of her body. Her eyes squeezed shut as more tears seemed to come; was that what being appreciated felt like? Was that what not hating yourself and allowing others to love you was like? Was that what being loved by Billie Dean was like? She’ll soon realize I’m a disaster… how many women has she seen naked? Do you really think you can compete to a perfectly able-body? Reality kicked back in as harshly as a bucket of cold water. Brown eyes opened quickly. A tear slid down each cheek. Wilhemina took a deep breath as the weight on top of her began to feel blunderingly suffocating, keeping her away from feeling safe any longer. “B-Billie,” she called, voice trembling in a not-so-good way anymore. She lifted her head to look down at her. “B-Billie… I…” I’m fucking everything up as I always do.
The tone of Venable’s voice had changed. Billie Dean looked up only to realize the tears. Instantly, she pulled away. “Darling,” she reached up to cup one of her cheeks, moving to sit up a little better, arm back at supporting her. “Darling, are you alright?” Oh no. That was too much. Guilt crawled inside of her. With the dimple of worry between her eyebrows, Venable’s breath grew a little more labored. She nodded, reaching to pull her clothes back down. Quickly getting the cue, Billie sat up and pulled away from Wilhemina, giving her space.
Using her elbows as support, Wilhemina sat up beside Billie Dean, eyes closed as she looked down, hands nervously playing with each other. She’ll leave as soon as she sees your back. You don’t deserve to be happy. How much of a pervert can you be? She took another deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut, jaw locked tight. Stop it. Stop it, please. Blood rushed through her body. Her lungs almost wanted to refuse the air that came in, but she fought against it.
Watching Venable, Billie felt a little lost. She wiped her lips clean and bit her inner cheek. What do I do?! “Darling…” she tried again, and this time Wilhemina blindly reached for one of her hands and tangled their fingers together, holding her tightly. Billie Dean’s heart eased a little, even though she was beginning to learn that the tight grip meant fear—fear that she would leave. Billie caressed the digits between her own, wanting to comfort Venable in whatever was happening inside her head. After a minute or two of taking deep breaths, Wilhemina opened her eyes again. She sighed. Billie moved closer. “Are you alright, my love?” she asked softly.
Embarrassedly, Venable nodded. She struggled to look back up at honey eyes. “I’m sorry,” she nearly whispered. My love.
Billie shook her head. “You have nothing to apologize for.” With her free hand, she caressed one of Wilhemina’s cheeks. “It’s all good. Did I do something wrong?”
“No,” Venable was quick to answer. “No, not at all, I just… thoughts,” she sighed. “I’m sorry, I just—they change quickly sometimes, and I… I panic.” How inadequate. She gulped nervously. I always manage to make her feel like my fucked up ways are her fault.
“Hey, look at me.” Billie Dean’s thumb insisted against Wilhemina’s cheek. Their eyes met. She smiled sadly. “Do not apologize, okay? It’s alright, it’s all good.” Leaning closer, she kissed Venable’s forehead, for perhaps the lips could be too much right now, Billie thought. “Thank you for letting me know there was something wrong.”
“There wasn’t… my mind is just a mess.”
“A beautiful, incredible mess, then.”
The words struck something inside Venable she couldn’t quite point to. Nibbling on her lower lip, she leaned against the palm with a frown, opening a sad, small smile. She thought for a minute or two, just staring at Billie Dean’s eyes and appreciating the comfort it somehow always brought to her. Her chest felt less tight, and her breathing calmed down. “Thank you,” Wilhemina said lowly. Accepting her mess was not for everybody. Not even herself accepted it. Billie Dean nodded and smiled back at her, thumb never letting go of caressing the skin there. She wanted to talk more about what had happened; wanted to learn more about Wilhemina, wanted to understand her better, yet she figured now was not the time. It was too soon, and she should give her space. With the nerves gradually calming down, Wilhemina could now focus on just how she had enjoyed it all, for her body was still very much warm and between her legs had begun to feel somewhat uncomfortable. Licking her lips, she pondered her next words. “Just for the record,” she began, leaning closer to place a kiss on Billie’s cheek. “I really enjoyed it,” she whispered, skin turning red all over again.
With her lower stomach still burning from before, Billie Dean had to bite her lip to physically stop herself from letting out a whimper. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, reaching to caress Venable’s waist with the hand that previously cupped her cheek. “Me too,” she managed to say. “I really, really enjoyed it.”Letting out a coy chuckle, Wilhemina nodded. She leaned and kissed Billie Dean on the lips, getting a hum back from her as her hands squeezed Venable’s waist where they rested. As they pulled away, Billie let out a sigh. “I really need to use the bathroom,” she chuckled. “I’ll be back.”
“Alright.” Wilhemina cleared her throat. She watched as Billie Dean followed into her closet, eyes inevitably falling to her beautiful hips. That woman was on top of me. She bit her inner cheek and looked away, fighting to recompose herself. Now, in solitude, Venable’s mind seemed to have trouble processing everything that had happened so far. I hope she’s truly okay. Wilhemina wished she could do something to help, something to support her. Simply being there for her didn’t feel like it was enough, specially being herself. She’d probably be better off with any of these other women. Venable sighed out loud. It was clear her mind would not give her a break for a while. Reaching to wipe her lips clean and to fix her hair, Wilhemina tried focusing on something other than the growing self consciousness inside of her. My skirt is all messed up. She reached for her cane that still rested against the bed—now nearly falling down—and got up. Her underwear felt incredibly damp. Ignoring it the best she could, Venable fixed her skirt. I wish I had touched her more… I wish I had kissed her thighs. Wilhemina gulped. I love her legs. I love her lips. I love her body. She walked over to the closet and to the mirror there, fixing the rest of what was to fix. The door to the bathroom opened, revealing a now composed Billie Dean. She smiled at her.
“I just need to fix my makeup and we can go back to the company.” Billie reached for some wipes at the drawer of her vanity. “Would you like one?”
Venable nodded. “Thank you.” She grabbed one and turned back around to the mirror.
As she wiped the smudged parts of her makeup, Billie Dean watched Wilhemina through the glass. I can’t believe I just had her on my bed, underneath my lips. Billie was not one to get easily in awe, but Venable had a way of making her just do so. Especially when she knew how hard it was for her to accept affection, and to show affection. Joy filled her chest in a way she wasn’t quite expecting. She trusts me. What a privilege to be trusted by Wilhemina Venable. “Would you join me for lunch later?” Billie Dean still felt the need to have a proper conversation about what had happened, and to perhaps ease her mind a bit.
“Of course. Where would you like to go?”
Billie Dean hummed as she moved to throw her wipe into the small trashcan beside her vanity. Wilhemina did the same. “There’s a restaurant near there that serves good food. We can try it.”
“You know I don’t argue with you when it comes to good food,” Venable teased. Her chest was just now going back to complete normalcy. Billie laughed as she reached to wrap an arm around her waist, pulling Wilhemina closer and placing a kiss on the side of her head.
Both followed downstairs and to Billie Dean’s garage, ready to go back to the company. Before leaving, Billie made sure Eleanor ordered her lunch and took a proper break, and only then they got going their way. As they stepped into the elevator, Billie Dean took a deep breath, fingers tangled with Wilhemina’s. From the corner of her eyes, Venable watched as she nervously chewed on her lower lip. “Billie,” she called. “Are you alright?”
Being taken away from her thoughts, Billie Dean looked at Wilhemina. Now that their emotions had calmed down from everything that had happened, Billie found herself… scared. What if she does think I’m a whore? It was stupid to consider that… and yet, she did. We just had a special moment, why am I even thinking about it? Billie Dean was not one to get scared, but after the rush of emotions she had her mind only now seemed to be assimilating everything. “I’m okay. It’s just work.”
billie dean howard x reader
summary: You meet Billie in mourning. She's too professional, and you're too angry, and it takes too long to see her again. And again. And again as your lives tumble together.
w/c: 3.3k
taglist: @lotties-ashwagandha
chapter one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen
notes: happy pride! think you guys'll like this one
warnings: a considerable amount of alcohol and its aftermath
Norah, who is in a skin tight green dress and heels you know will be coming off the second she gets tipsy, cashes in her birthday privileges when reinforcements arrive to help finish setting up. She sits daintily on a barstool while you and mutual friends tie up balloons, set up string lights, and prep a beer pong table.
Once you’re able to relax for a few minutes, Norah celebrates by pouring all of them a shot. The lights in Norah’s apartment are a mix of pinks and blues and reds, the string lights are taped to the bar, and they have more than enough alcohol to last them several months.
“Here’s to another year older and no better off,” Norah toasts. A chorus of cheers and salut and unintelligible whoops was followed by the painful grimaces of people who are too old to be taking shots without a chaser. So, you pour everyone another. Just to start the night off right.
The first two hours of the evening fly by. There’s beer pong and good music and video games in the living room, and you’re just about to broach the subject of the cake when a familiar face walks through the door. A beer in hand, you weave your way to the entryway. Billie Dean Howard is in a silky black dress, and her legs are showing, and you feel like you’re about to be knocked to the floor with the force of her. She’s looking around, bag on her shoulder, heels as tall as the night is long.
“Billie,” you call, regaining your voice, dodging the last few people to get to her. It’s sweaty and smells like sweet flavored vodka in Norah’s apartment, and the noise and the lights and the people seem to hit Billie like a wave. But she narrows in on you with a weary smile. You wrap an arm around her, and she stiffens momentarily but reciprocates, nails grazing the skin of your shoulder blade.
“Hi,” she breathes, and you pull away.
“You can put your purse in Norah’s room. It’s the only place off limits tonight,” you say, dragging her through the crowd. She dodges and weaves easily as you plough through, your hand gripping hers. You close the door behind you, and Billie hesitates, setting her purse gently on Norah’s bed.
“When you promised chaos, you meant it,” Billie offers, and you grin.
“I told you Norah’s insane.” But there’s something in Billie’s body language that flips a switch in you. She’s closed off, and you think maybe it’s the people, but Billie’s used to a lot of people in her face. “Are you okay?” Her eyes widen momentarily, and she looks away in a panic but then slowly back to you, swallowing.
“Am I that transparent?” she asks, and you shake your head.
“Not at all.” Billie’s eyes drag across you, lingering, analyzing, looking.
“Good.” It’s final, and you accept it as such. “Is Andy here?”
“No,” you say, jaw twitching. Billie nods, not pushing, and you take the last swig of your beer. “Come on, let’s get you a drink.” As soon as you and Billie are back in the kitchen, Norah grins and claps. She’s just unveiled the cake, a red solo cup in hand.
“You’re here!” she squeals and sets down her cup. Then her arms are wrapped tightly around Billie who blinks and stumbles back. As she recovers, her arms come up to hold Norah, featherlight and awkward. It’s a far cry from the way she hugs you. And as Billie meets your eyes, almost pleadingly, something stirs in you, faint and frightening. Billie always holds you tight and warm, and you can feel the tension melt from her the second your arms are around her. It was silly to think that was commonplace. You swallow as Norah lets her go. “I’m so glad you could make it. Let me get you a drink. What do you want?”
“I got it,” Billie dismisses, squeezing Norah’s arm. “Focus on your cake.”
Someone lights the candles, the music is lowered, and Norah’s dragging you to her, wrapping an arm tight around your waist.
“This bitch right here,” Norah begins, and you grin, rolling your eyes. Everyone whoops and shouts. “Is my best friend in the whole world. She’s the reason.” Norah doesn’t elaborate, but you don’t need her to. “I love you,” she says to you, and then plants a wet kiss on your cheek.
“Love you more,” you grin back, grab onto the side of her head, and kiss her temple.
“And thank you to everyone who made tonight possible. It wouldn’t be a Norah birthday bash without the henchmen behind the scenes.” Another whoop and cheer from the crowd. You find Billie’s eyes. She’s fixed on you, face unreadable. Norah squeezes your waist, pulling you closer.
People don’t exactly sing happy birthday as much as they scream it, and you’d be surprised if you didn’t get a noise complaint before the end of the night. As soon as Norah blows out her candles, the music is back up, and Norah is dipping her finger into the cake. Shots in little red solo cups are passed around, and you find yourself face to face with Billie, who clinks your cups together and downs her shot without so much as a wince. You’re not quite as steely.
You’re quickly put in charge of handing out cake, and by the time you’re down to the last pieces, Billie is back at your side.
“Wanna split one?” you half yell, and Billie nods, handing you a drink. You’re not sure what it is, but it tastes good, and you tell her so as you hand her a plastic fork. As soon as Billie asks you how you’ve been, you launch into a tale about the latest mishaps at Corner Store, and it pulls a smile from Billie, however small. You relish in it, happy just to see her happy. “Are you sure you’re okay?” you ask, and Billie swallows.
“Fine.” You don’t believe her, but you know this isn’t exactly the time to dive into it. So, you try to entertain her. And it seems to work. Her smile returns, just slightly, and her shoulders loosen. As you take the last bite of cake, Billie says something to you, but you can’t hear it over the music and the laughter. Instead of talking louder, she simply reaches over and swipes her thumb along the corner of your mouth. You’re effectively silenced, and Billie’s eyes are dark when she wipes the excess frosting onto her napkin.
“Do you want to play beer pong?” you ask, the only thing capable of leaving your mouth and still you sound like an idiot. You think you might be blushing, but you’re already so warm from the alcohol and the party you can’t be sure. Billie swallows.
“I’m not very good.”
“Somehow I doubt that,” you say, and pull her by the hand, something you’re doing a lot tonight. It feels natural when you’re uninhibited. Billie is good at everything she does. And you’re right, too. She’s excellent, and by the end of the first round she’s grinning, and it’s beautiful. Billie is, undoubtedly, beautiful. But the depth of it hits harder under the low lights, everything tinged with liquor. Billie licks her lips and turns to you, having sunk the winning shot, and you’re definitely blushing now. “I told you,” is all you can say, and Billie laughs. She laughs. And it’s so pretty. Your hands seem to move on their own volition as you set up the cups again.
Most of Norah’s friends are also your friends — artsy, queer types who can’t wear a little black dress without making it subversive and fresh. When Billie wears a little black dress, she makes it do exactly what it was designed for in a way so delicious you find it hard to look at her. Her hair is down in waves, and you want to bite down where her neck meets her shoulder, spread her legs so that her dress slides over her hips.
Billie draws attention here among people who only wear pearls in drag. She’s out of her element, but the gays of Los Angeles certainly know her. You wonder if Norah asked people not to approach her about the show. You’re thankful, regardless, because Billie’s unrestrained here, playing beer pong in heels on a slippery floor, verging on drunk.
In the next round you’re faced with more competition, but Billie’s determined now. She’s competitive, you know this about her. Though it doesn’t come out very often, you like to see her unbridled passion. Her lips fall open, brow hard and set, and your eyes are drawn to her arms when she throws the ping pong ball, the way she manages to stand even higher on her tiptoes. You’re too distracted to notice when she sinks two in a row, and then she’s pulling you to her, nails digging into your arm. She’s so bright and lively, and she’s definitely drunk now, and you’ve never seen her like this. Smooth and easy, she wraps an arm around your waist, digs in and pulls you flush to her.
“That’s two for two, darling. We make a good team,” she says, leaning in, and you swallow, eyes darting across her. You feel hot. Billie’s sticky, and her face is shiny, and her body is warm and soft against you. Shadows dance across a jawline that could cut you, and her nose and cheeks are red. Oh, and her lips are so very red. You could kiss her right now. You want to so desperately, but Andy. God. You pull away and grab her elbow.
“I need another drink.”
You take two shots in a row, and then Billie says she needs a cigarette, so you meander back to Norah’s room to grab her purse. You don’t realize that you’re drunk until Norah’s bedroom lights flicker on, and the room doesn’t feel all that real, your ears hollow and ringing from the music. Billie’s uncoordinated, and she sways just slightly, just enough for you to want to hold her steady, place your hands on her hips. Jesus Christ.
“Maybe I should call Andy,” you mumble, and Billie turns, unlit cigarette between her soft painted lips.
“Why?” she asks, and you pull your hair from your neck, sweaty and flushed.
“I told her not to come tonight. I feel bad,” you admit, fanning yourself. Billie sits down on the bed full of other people’s coats and bags. She steadies herself by pressing her hands to the mattress.
“Are you two okay?” she asks. Billie’s always polite when it comes to Andy but not overly friendly. Come to think of it, she and Andy have never really spent time together. You find that odd considering both Norah and Margot have. And Billie has quickly become an important addition to your life. She should be meeting Andy. Deep down, part of you doesn’t want her to.
“I think I’m pushing her away,” you admit, something you wouldn’t do so freely if you were sober. Billie cocks her head, her now frizzy curls falling down over her arm.
“Come to the balcony with me,” she says then, striding forward with the abrupt purpose only a drunk Billie could pull off. You follow obediently.
There are two other people there already, but it’s quiet and cool, and the wind sobers you a little. Billie lights her cigarette, the orange of the lit tobacco illuminating soft skin. She puffs deeply, languidly, like this is something she’s been needing for hours.
“Tell me everything,” she says, eyes meeting yours. You sigh, leaning against the railing, cool metal digging into your partially exposed stomach. The brightly lit skyline of West Hollywood and LA in the distance soothes you. The smell of cigarettes and the lingering hint of Billie’s perfume soothes you in a different way. You want to lean into it.
“There’s not much more to tell,” you admit, picking at your cuticles. You’ve already told her you don’t love Andy. “It’s starting to feel…unfair to her. I have to make a decision.” Billie hums, smoke curling from her nose. “Anyway, why aren’t you seeing anyone? I’m sure you have women flocking to your doorstep.” Billie snorts, and it’s undignified in a distinctly un-Billie way, and you love it. “I’m serious.” Billie’s jaw clenches, and she taps ash over the balcony.
“No one’s struck my fancy,” she answers, eyes sliding back to you. You glare, and she narrows her eyes briefly at you. But you win because she breaks eye contact first, fiddling with the filter of her cigarette. “It’s hard. Finding people who…accept me,” she relents, looking down. “Don’t see me as a spectacle or a celebrity or an actor.”
She’s bitter, and you want to dissipate that feeling as quickly as possible. So you reach over to grab her cigarette and take a slow drag. Her eyes find your mouth as her nails tap out a pensive rhythm on the railing.
“I don’t,” you say, leaning forward.
“I know,” she answers hoarsely, brushing a sticky strand of hair from your cheek and tucking it behind your ear. Her thumb lingers on your skin, stroking lightly. You lean into it, savoring the warmth.
. . .
Billie thinks you may be trying to kill her tonight. You’re drinking quicker than she can keep up, and everytime she sees you take a shot, she wants to lick the excess from your chin and your neck and down your collarbone and fuck. You get affectionate when you’re drunk, not unlike Norah who’s kissed Billie on the cheek twice now. You left that out when you warned Billie about Norah, and she smiles thinking of it, wondering if this is out of the norm for you. If Billie’s the exception. Because you linger. Your fingers barely leave her skin, always grazing, holding, gripping. And the way you look at Billie burns it’s so tender.
Not to say Billie isn’t drunk either. She most definitely is, but she cuts herself off when the room starts spinning and she can’t feel her feet, which should be aching in her heels by now. It’s only much later into the evening that Billie finally gets you to drink a glass of water.
You’re so pretty tonight. And every night. But especially tonight, carefree and open and lovely. Your eyes are shining, and your smile is bright, and you wrap an arm around Billie every chance you get, low around her waist or up around her shoulders. Either way, Billie’s overwhelmed. You smell like sweat and liquor and a hint of sweetness Billie wants to devour. God, she wants you. It’s an easier thought to accept when she’s drunk. She can watch the way your hips move, the way you lick your lips, the way you dance to the music without suffering through quite as much mental gymnastics.
But it’s when you run your hands through her hair as you dance together that Billie truly feels like she’s in trouble. Her head comes back, heat washing over her as you tug just enough to part Billie’s lips, to blow her pupils wide and dark and eager. You’re singing, and it comes out hot and breathy on her skin, in her ear. Dazed, Billie wraps an arm around you, pulls you close as her other hand rises to your arm, still in Billie’s hair. Her nails dig into your forearm, and as you let her hair go, your arms settle on her shoulders, around her neck. Billie’s hot, and it has nothing to do with the party. There’s heat pooling low in her belly and tight between her legs, and you don’t notice the way she looks at you. So openly ravenous.
And then Norah’s there, and she’s dancing with you in the sweaty haze of the living room, and Billie’s so thankful she almost gasps. Her heart is pounding. She almost kissed you right there in the middle of Norah’s crowded apartment.
Billie’s feeling reckless tonight, emotions she doesn’t want to face boiling under her skin, and she needs to leave.
Seeing her walk toward Norah’s bedroom, you chase after her, sliding in and closing the door behind you.
“Hey,” you breathe, running your hands through your hair. Billie swallows, drunk and roaring with adrenaline. Even your voice makes her ache.
“Y/N,” she sighs, turned away from you.
“Are you leaving?” you ask, breathless. She doesn’t answer, ears ringing, heart thumping in her chest. She wants your hands on her right now. “What’s wrong?” You’re slurring just slightly. Billie turns, hands buzzing, face hot. You’re so gorgeous. “Did something happen? Did I do something?”
Billie steps forward, practically glides, a moth to a flame. And she doesn’t stop until she’s in your space, raising both hands to cradle your jaw, nails scraping behind your ears, pulling. And she doesn’t breathe, doesn’t think, doesn’t consider much of anything except her deep, bruising need when she slides her lips onto yours.
She presses in, desperate, and can feel the surprised tension in you dissipate, the breath you gasp before kissing her back. Your lips are soft and wet when they seek out Billie’s and pliant when she parts them, sinking deeper into you. When your hands finally grip Billie’s waist, she sighs, tongue sliding. Sucking on your bottom lip, she feels your breath on her cheek. You taste like peaches, and Billie’s fingers dig into the nape of your neck as she backs you up against the wall. You do gasp then, and she kisses you so deeply it makes your hands go slack against her.
Billie’s heart is racing as her arm snakes around your back, and you pull her closer by the waist, hips pressed together. She nips at your lip before kissing your cheek and your jaw and your neck under your ear, and you shiver. You shiver, and Billie chokes back a moan when you let out a noise so soft and sweet she barely hears it. But her tongue feels it on your throat.
You smell like sweat and cheap perfume and alcohol. Christ.
You arch into Billie as she slows, her fingers splayed across your back. Your breaths come out quick in time with Billie’s when she stops nose to nose with you, eyes closed, lips parted. You tug softly at her, and Billie swallows.
When she peels herself away from you it’s definitive but gentle, and she turns so she doesn’t have to see the lipstick she left on your skin. You don’t speak, and when Billie does turn around, purse in hand, your back is still against the wall, swaying in place, unblinking and focused on her. Dazed and throbbing, Billie wants nothing more than to drop her purse and take off this dress for you. But you’re drunk. You’re very drunk. And your lips are swollen and stained red from Billie’s lipstick. She swallows and strides wordlessly out of the bedroom door before she can change her mind.
. . .
You’re in and out of sleep for hours before your eyes finally open. There’s a crick in your neck, and you feel far away from the bed you’re in, stomach cramping. You groan, pressing your face into the pillow. There’s rustling next to you, and Norah’s face appears from under a blanket. Her makeup is smeared across her puffy face. You stare at each other, unable to muster much more, eyes barely open.
“I gotta go,” you mumble, untangling yourself from the sheets to trek to the bathroom, hands steadying yourself on the walls.
When you return, Norah’s laying on her back, arms at her side.
“I may be getting too old for this,” she admits, voice hoarse. You sigh as you strip out of your party clothes and lay on top of the covers, clammy and aching. You both stare at the ceiling.
“I blacked out,” you say, trying to pinpoint when you stopped retaining memories. It may have been just after the balcony with Billie. You hope she got home okay.
“Me too,” Norah sighs. You both stare at the ceiling until the stomach cramps fade to hunger, and then you order in the greasiest brunch you can find.
billie dean howard x reader
summary: You meet Billie in mourning. She's too professional, and you're too angry, and it takes too long to see her again. And again. And again as your lives tumble together.
w/c: 3.3k
taglist: @lotties-ashwagandha
chapter one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen
notes: happy pride! think you guys'll like this one
warnings: a considerable amount of alcohol and its aftermath
Norah, who is in a skin tight green dress and heels you know will be coming off the second she gets tipsy, cashes in her birthday privileges when reinforcements arrive to help finish setting up. She sits daintily on a barstool while you and mutual friends tie up balloons, set up string lights, and prep a beer pong table.
Once you’re able to relax for a few minutes, Norah celebrates by pouring all of them a shot. The lights in Norah’s apartment are a mix of pinks and blues and reds, the string lights are taped to the bar, and they have more than enough alcohol to last them several months.
“Here’s to another year older and no better off,” Norah toasts. A chorus of cheers and salut and unintelligible whoops was followed by the painful grimaces of people who are too old to be taking shots without a chaser. So, you pour everyone another. Just to start the night off right.
The first two hours of the evening fly by. There’s beer pong and good music and video games in the living room, and you’re just about to broach the subject of the cake when a familiar face walks through the door. A beer in hand, you weave your way to the entryway. Billie Dean Howard is in a silky black dress, and her legs are showing, and you feel like you’re about to be knocked to the floor with the force of her. She’s looking around, bag on her shoulder, heels as tall as the night is long.
“Billie,” you call, regaining your voice, dodging the last few people to get to her. It’s sweaty and smells like sweet flavored vodka in Norah’s apartment, and the noise and the lights and the people seem to hit Billie like a wave. But she narrows in on you with a weary smile. You wrap an arm around her, and she stiffens momentarily but reciprocates, nails grazing the skin of your shoulder blade.
“Hi,” she breathes, and you pull away.
“You can put your purse in Norah’s room. It’s the only place off limits tonight,” you say, dragging her through the crowd. She dodges and weaves easily as you plough through, your hand gripping hers. You close the door behind you, and Billie hesitates, setting her purse gently on Norah’s bed.
“When you promised chaos, you meant it,” Billie offers, and you grin.
“I told you Norah’s insane.” But there’s something in Billie’s body language that flips a switch in you. She’s closed off, and you think maybe it’s the people, but Billie’s used to a lot of people in her face. “Are you okay?” Her eyes widen momentarily, and she looks away in a panic but then slowly back to you, swallowing.
“Am I that transparent?” she asks, and you shake your head.
“Not at all.” Billie’s eyes drag across you, lingering, analyzing, looking.
“Good.” It’s final, and you accept it as such. “Is Andy here?”
“No,” you say, jaw twitching. Billie nods, not pushing, and you take the last swig of your beer. “Come on, let’s get you a drink.” As soon as you and Billie are back in the kitchen, Norah grins and claps. She’s just unveiled the cake, a red solo cup in hand.
“You’re here!” she squeals and sets down her cup. Then her arms are wrapped tightly around Billie who blinks and stumbles back. As she recovers, her arms come up to hold Norah, featherlight and awkward. It’s a far cry from the way she hugs you. And as Billie meets your eyes, almost pleadingly, something stirs in you, faint and frightening. Billie always holds you tight and warm, and you can feel the tension melt from her the second your arms are around her. It was silly to think that was commonplace. You swallow as Norah lets her go. “I’m so glad you could make it. Let me get you a drink. What do you want?”
“I got it,” Billie dismisses, squeezing Norah’s arm. “Focus on your cake.”
Someone lights the candles, the music is lowered, and Norah’s dragging you to her, wrapping an arm tight around your waist.
“This bitch right here,” Norah begins, and you grin, rolling your eyes. Everyone whoops and shouts. “Is my best friend in the whole world. She’s the reason.” Norah doesn’t elaborate, but you don’t need her to. “I love you,” she says to you, and then plants a wet kiss on your cheek.
“Love you more,” you grin back, grab onto the side of her head, and kiss her temple.
“And thank you to everyone who made tonight possible. It wouldn’t be a Norah birthday bash without the henchmen behind the scenes.” Another whoop and cheer from the crowd. You find Billie’s eyes. She’s fixed on you, face unreadable. Norah squeezes your waist, pulling you closer.
People don’t exactly sing happy birthday as much as they scream it, and you’d be surprised if you didn’t get a noise complaint before the end of the night. As soon as Norah blows out her candles, the music is back up, and Norah is dipping her finger into the cake. Shots in little red solo cups are passed around, and you find yourself face to face with Billie, who clinks your cups together and downs her shot without so much as a wince. You’re not quite as steely.
You’re quickly put in charge of handing out cake, and by the time you’re down to the last pieces, Billie is back at your side.
“Wanna split one?” you half yell, and Billie nods, handing you a drink. You’re not sure what it is, but it tastes good, and you tell her so as you hand her a plastic fork. As soon as Billie asks you how you’ve been, you launch into a tale about the latest mishaps at Corner Store, and it pulls a smile from Billie, however small. You relish in it, happy just to see her happy. “Are you sure you’re okay?” you ask, and Billie swallows.
“Fine.” You don’t believe her, but you know this isn’t exactly the time to dive into it. So, you try to entertain her. And it seems to work. Her smile returns, just slightly, and her shoulders loosen. As you take the last bite of cake, Billie says something to you, but you can’t hear it over the music and the laughter. Instead of talking louder, she simply reaches over and swipes her thumb along the corner of your mouth. You’re effectively silenced, and Billie’s eyes are dark when she wipes the excess frosting onto her napkin.
“Do you want to play beer pong?” you ask, the only thing capable of leaving your mouth and still you sound like an idiot. You think you might be blushing, but you’re already so warm from the alcohol and the party you can’t be sure. Billie swallows.
“I’m not very good.”
“Somehow I doubt that,” you say, and pull her by the hand, something you’re doing a lot tonight. It feels natural when you’re uninhibited. Billie is good at everything she does. And you’re right, too. She’s excellent, and by the end of the first round she’s grinning, and it’s beautiful. Billie is, undoubtedly, beautiful. But the depth of it hits harder under the low lights, everything tinged with liquor. Billie licks her lips and turns to you, having sunk the winning shot, and you’re definitely blushing now. “I told you,” is all you can say, and Billie laughs. She laughs. And it’s so pretty. Your hands seem to move on their own volition as you set up the cups again.
Most of Norah’s friends are also your friends — artsy, queer types who can’t wear a little black dress without making it subversive and fresh. When Billie wears a little black dress, she makes it do exactly what it was designed for in a way so delicious you find it hard to look at her. Her hair is down in waves, and you want to bite down where her neck meets her shoulder, spread her legs so that her dress slides over her hips.
Billie draws attention here among people who only wear pearls in drag. She’s out of her element, but the gays of Los Angeles certainly know her. You wonder if Norah asked people not to approach her about the show. You’re thankful, regardless, because Billie’s unrestrained here, playing beer pong in heels on a slippery floor, verging on drunk.
In the next round you’re faced with more competition, but Billie’s determined now. She’s competitive, you know this about her. Though it doesn’t come out very often, you like to see her unbridled passion. Her lips fall open, brow hard and set, and your eyes are drawn to her arms when she throws the ping pong ball, the way she manages to stand even higher on her tiptoes. You’re too distracted to notice when she sinks two in a row, and then she’s pulling you to her, nails digging into your arm. She’s so bright and lively, and she’s definitely drunk now, and you’ve never seen her like this. Smooth and easy, she wraps an arm around your waist, digs in and pulls you flush to her.
“That’s two for two, darling. We make a good team,” she says, leaning in, and you swallow, eyes darting across her. You feel hot. Billie’s sticky, and her face is shiny, and her body is warm and soft against you. Shadows dance across a jawline that could cut you, and her nose and cheeks are red. Oh, and her lips are so very red. You could kiss her right now. You want to so desperately, but Andy. God. You pull away and grab her elbow.
“I need another drink.”
You take two shots in a row, and then Billie says she needs a cigarette, so you meander back to Norah’s room to grab her purse. You don’t realize that you’re drunk until Norah’s bedroom lights flicker on, and the room doesn’t feel all that real, your ears hollow and ringing from the music. Billie’s uncoordinated, and she sways just slightly, just enough for you to want to hold her steady, place your hands on her hips. Jesus Christ.
“Maybe I should call Andy,” you mumble, and Billie turns, unlit cigarette between her soft painted lips.
“Why?” she asks, and you pull your hair from your neck, sweaty and flushed.
“I told her not to come tonight. I feel bad,” you admit, fanning yourself. Billie sits down on the bed full of other people’s coats and bags. She steadies herself by pressing her hands to the mattress.
“Are you two okay?” she asks. Billie’s always polite when it comes to Andy but not overly friendly. Come to think of it, she and Andy have never really spent time together. You find that odd considering both Norah and Margot have. And Billie has quickly become an important addition to your life. She should be meeting Andy. Deep down, part of you doesn’t want her to.
“I think I’m pushing her away,” you admit, something you wouldn’t do so freely if you were sober. Billie cocks her head, her now frizzy curls falling down over her arm.
“Come to the balcony with me,” she says then, striding forward with the abrupt purpose only a drunk Billie could pull off. You follow obediently.
There are two other people there already, but it’s quiet and cool, and the wind sobers you a little. Billie lights her cigarette, the orange of the lit tobacco illuminating soft skin. She puffs deeply, languidly, like this is something she’s been needing for hours.
“Tell me everything,” she says, eyes meeting yours. You sigh, leaning against the railing, cool metal digging into your partially exposed stomach. The brightly lit skyline of West Hollywood and LA in the distance soothes you. The smell of cigarettes and the lingering hint of Billie’s perfume soothes you in a different way. You want to lean into it.
“There’s not much more to tell,” you admit, picking at your cuticles. You’ve already told her you don’t love Andy. “It’s starting to feel…unfair to her. I have to make a decision.” Billie hums, smoke curling from her nose. “Anyway, why aren’t you seeing anyone? I’m sure you have women flocking to your doorstep.” Billie snorts, and it’s undignified in a distinctly un-Billie way, and you love it. “I’m serious.” Billie’s jaw clenches, and she taps ash over the balcony.
“No one’s struck my fancy,” she answers, eyes sliding back to you. You glare, and she narrows her eyes briefly at you. But you win because she breaks eye contact first, fiddling with the filter of her cigarette. “It’s hard. Finding people who…accept me,” she relents, looking down. “Don’t see me as a spectacle or a celebrity or an actor.”
She’s bitter, and you want to dissipate that feeling as quickly as possible. So you reach over to grab her cigarette and take a slow drag. Her eyes find your mouth as her nails tap out a pensive rhythm on the railing.
“I don’t,” you say, leaning forward.
“I know,” she answers hoarsely, brushing a sticky strand of hair from your cheek and tucking it behind your ear. Her thumb lingers on your skin, stroking lightly. You lean into it, savoring the warmth.
. . .
Billie thinks you may be trying to kill her tonight. You’re drinking quicker than she can keep up, and everytime she sees you take a shot, she wants to lick the excess from your chin and your neck and down your collarbone and fuck. You get affectionate when you’re drunk, not unlike Norah who’s kissed Billie on the cheek twice now. You left that out when you warned Billie about Norah, and she smiles thinking of it, wondering if this is out of the norm for you. If Billie’s the exception. Because you linger. Your fingers barely leave her skin, always grazing, holding, gripping. And the way you look at Billie burns it’s so tender.
Not to say Billie isn’t drunk either. She most definitely is, but she cuts herself off when the room starts spinning and she can’t feel her feet, which should be aching in her heels by now. It’s only much later into the evening that Billie finally gets you to drink a glass of water.
You’re so pretty tonight. And every night. But especially tonight, carefree and open and lovely. Your eyes are shining, and your smile is bright, and you wrap an arm around Billie every chance you get, low around her waist or up around her shoulders. Either way, Billie’s overwhelmed. You smell like sweat and liquor and a hint of sweetness Billie wants to devour. God, she wants you. It’s an easier thought to accept when she’s drunk. She can watch the way your hips move, the way you lick your lips, the way you dance to the music without suffering through quite as much mental gymnastics.
But it’s when you run your hands through her hair as you dance together that Billie truly feels like she’s in trouble. Her head comes back, heat washing over her as you tug just enough to part Billie’s lips, to blow her pupils wide and dark and eager. You’re singing, and it comes out hot and breathy on her skin, in her ear. Dazed, Billie wraps an arm around you, pulls you close as her other hand rises to your arm, still in Billie’s hair. Her nails dig into your forearm, and as you let her hair go, your arms settle on her shoulders, around her neck. Billie’s hot, and it has nothing to do with the party. There’s heat pooling low in her belly and tight between her legs, and you don’t notice the way she looks at you. So openly ravenous.
And then Norah’s there, and she’s dancing with you in the sweaty haze of the living room, and Billie’s so thankful she almost gasps. Her heart is pounding. She almost kissed you right there in the middle of Norah’s crowded apartment.
Billie’s feeling reckless tonight, emotions she doesn’t want to face boiling under her skin, and she needs to leave.
Seeing her walk toward Norah’s bedroom, you chase after her, sliding in and closing the door behind you.
“Hey,” you breathe, running your hands through your hair. Billie swallows, drunk and roaring with adrenaline. Even your voice makes her ache.
“Y/N,” she sighs, turned away from you.
“Are you leaving?” you ask, breathless. She doesn’t answer, ears ringing, heart thumping in her chest. She wants your hands on her right now. “What’s wrong?” You’re slurring just slightly. Billie turns, hands buzzing, face hot. You’re so gorgeous. “Did something happen? Did I do something?”
Billie steps forward, practically glides, a moth to a flame. And she doesn’t stop until she’s in your space, raising both hands to cradle your jaw, nails scraping behind your ears, pulling. And she doesn’t breathe, doesn’t think, doesn’t consider much of anything except her deep, bruising need when she slides her lips onto yours.
She presses in, desperate, and can feel the surprised tension in you dissipate, the breath you gasp before kissing her back. Your lips are soft and wet when they seek out Billie’s and pliant when she parts them, sinking deeper into you. When your hands finally grip Billie’s waist, she sighs, tongue sliding. Sucking on your bottom lip, she feels your breath on her cheek. You taste like peaches, and Billie’s fingers dig into the nape of your neck as she backs you up against the wall. You do gasp then, and she kisses you so deeply it makes your hands go slack against her.
Billie’s heart is racing as her arm snakes around your back, and you pull her closer by the waist, hips pressed together. She nips at your lip before kissing your cheek and your jaw and your neck under your ear, and you shiver. You shiver, and Billie chokes back a moan when you let out a noise so soft and sweet she barely hears it. But her tongue feels it on your throat.
You smell like sweat and cheap perfume and alcohol. Christ.
You arch into Billie as she slows, her fingers splayed across your back. Your breaths come out quick in time with Billie’s when she stops nose to nose with you, eyes closed, lips parted. You tug softly at her, and Billie swallows.
When she peels herself away from you it’s definitive but gentle, and she turns so she doesn’t have to see the lipstick she left on your skin. You don’t speak, and when Billie does turn around, purse in hand, your back is still against the wall, swaying in place, unblinking and focused on her. Dazed and throbbing, Billie wants nothing more than to drop her purse and take off this dress for you. But you’re drunk. You’re very drunk. And your lips are swollen and stained red from Billie’s lipstick. She swallows and strides wordlessly out of the bedroom door before she can change her mind.
. . .
You’re in and out of sleep for hours before your eyes finally open. There’s a crick in your neck, and you feel far away from the bed you’re in, stomach cramping. You groan, pressing your face into the pillow. There’s rustling next to you, and Norah’s face appears from under a blanket. Her makeup is smeared across her puffy face. You stare at each other, unable to muster much more, eyes barely open.
“I gotta go,” you mumble, untangling yourself from the sheets to trek to the bathroom, hands steadying yourself on the walls.
When you return, Norah’s laying on her back, arms at her side.
“I may be getting too old for this,” she admits, voice hoarse. You sigh as you strip out of your party clothes and lay on top of the covers, clammy and aching. You both stare at the ceiling.
“I blacked out,” you say, trying to pinpoint when you stopped retaining memories. It may have been just after the balcony with Billie. You hope she got home okay.
“Me too,” Norah sighs. You both stare at the ceiling until the stomach cramps fade to hunger, and then you order in the greasiest brunch you can find.
can someone please write another Billie dean Howard fic, I’m begging😭 I swear I think I’ve read nearly all of them or the ones I really wanna re-read have been deleted🤧
2012: Sarah Paulson plays the lead in a show where her character lies her way into an asylum to see a recently captured psychopathic killer...oh she's also gay
2020: Sarah Paulson plays the lead in a show where her character lies her way into an asylum to see a recently captured psychopathic killer...oh she's also gay
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?”
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.”
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.
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!)
“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…”
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.
2087
yousharknotpass
tangentwithtanner
