#Sarah Paulson x reader

[stayevildarling]

Thinking about soft quiet weekend nights with Mina Venable. Sitting on the sofa together as the TV runs softly in the background. Out of the blue, you glance at her and she feels your eyes on her before turning her attention to you.

„What is it little one?“ she asks softly before you give her the puppy eyes she can‘t deny. „Can you teach me how to knit, please?“ you ask and your words shock but make her melt at the same time. „Of course little one“ she whispers, trying to hide the huge smile on her face.

Without words she walks away to get all her supplies, laying them out neatly on the table in front of you. She talks you through it all, asking what you would like to start with. Once you settle on something she shows you how to cast on and do stitches. She is so so patient. Unlike her usual stern self, she gives you all the time and gentleness in the world. Correcting you gently when you hold on too tight or mess up a few stitches.

Once you get the hang of it, a warm proud smile spreads across her features, as she watches you in quiet adoration, staying closeby incase you needed anything. And safe to say she couldn‘t possibly love you any more than in this moment.

[woman-actress]

Jealous character x Fem!reader pleeaaaase

It's an SOS that I'm sending to you ...I am what we can call: an addict of fanfictions.

That's why I ask anyone who can write these wonderful things ... I'm in need and I have no desire to cure this addiction.

A little list :

Natasha Romanoff :

Wanda Maximoff :

Carol Danvers :

Lena Luthor :

Literally every character played by Cate Blanchette :

Same for Sarah Paulson :

Alma peregrine :

So many women and possibilities of toxic relationships and possible jealousy, really I would be happy to be crushed by these womens....

Thanks ! Really 💕

[janstevenswife]

manifesting my fantasies of being a cougar to come true 😁

[dreamypqulson]

Hi :) i love your writing and was hoping you could do one wear Cordelia finds out y/n is sh on her thigh? Or something <3

— my love, mine all mine

pairing: cordelia goode x reader

word count: 1500

warnings: self harm & depression

note: i got this request during my break so it’s a little old but i still wanted to write it cause it fits with my life right now!!!

You stared blankly at your bloody thigh in front of you. With the blade still grasped in your hand you tried to breathe in, and hold for five seconds, and then let it all out. It would help they told you. It would take away the misery until you didn't feel like hurting yourself anymore.

But you laughed a little as you watched the blood drip. It felt good and that was the worst part. You wanted to keep going. You almost did. You wanted the thoughts to shut up for a minute. But right as the blade lightly touched your flesh, there was a knock at the door.

And it snapped you out of it for a minute. Really, how long were you sitting on the cold bathroom floor for? Had anyone really noticed your absence or do they just need to get into the bathroom?

"Mhm?" You hummed, shaky but nonetheless clear.

"Are you okay, darling? You disappeared on me." Right as you heard that sweet familiar voice, you bounced off of the floor. Frantically, you grabbed a tissue and applied pressure to the broken skin after hiding the blade in the back of the cabinet.

"Yeah, sorry. I'll be out in a minute."

Cordelia didn't know about what was going on. Of course, she knows you struggle with mental health, but she'd hadn't yet found out about your legs. And you weren't planning on telling her.

By the way that you spoke, she felt like something was wrong. And, naturally, she wouldn't back down. She needed to help you with whatever was wrong.

"Can I come in?" She jiggled the doorknob but it was locked. You don't ever lock doors.

The blood leaked through the thin tissue and you cursed under your breath. You couldn't clean up with a wash cloth right now. You wouldn't have enough time to hide the evidence.

You looked up at the door and your blood ran cold. Answer her! You have to answer her before she comes in!

You pulled your sweatpants back up and flushed away the bloody tissues down the toilet so she couldn’t see them in the trash. "I'm coming," you said, and at this point, you were out of breath from the verge of a panic attack.

You opened the door and Cordelia's eyes widened. You were clearly frantic and you tried so hard to not cringe at the feeling of your pants rubbing against your raw cuts.

"Are you okay?" She asked again, but now she's more suspicious. You just nod your head and walk right by her. She follows you as you throw yourself on the bed.

Something doesn't feel right to her, but she tries to make it better by laying beside you and kissing you. You started to giggle looking over at her and for a moment, you completely forget about everything that just happened. She does too.

It isn't until she looks down that her eyes widen. And you're always so cautious about getting caught that your heart immediately drops.

"Why are you bleeding?" She asks, and sits up. You sit up too, and that's when you notice the patch of crimson on your thigh. Of course you'd just happen to be wearing grey sweatpants.

"Shit," you angrily curse, and start to get up off the bed. "I'm not sure. I'll go check it out though."

You try to head towards the bathroom but Cordelia grabs your arm so you can't move. You're fucked and you know it. "No, y/n. Why are you bleeding? Do not lie to me."

You always want Cordelia when you're injured or sick, so it was unusual for you to go run off. And after you acting strange in the bathroom, she was starting to think that she knew what is going on.

"I'm not lying, Cordelia! Are you serious right now?" Your voice raised slightly, going into a defensive mode, but Cordelia was quick to calm you.

"Hey, shh, shh. None of that. Just be honest with me, sweetie, i'm not mad." She reached up and cupped your cheek. Your lip started to tremble and you couldn't hold back the waterfall of tears. You couldn't bring yourself to tell her. "Are you hurting yourself?" She asks gently.

All you do is nod, and the waterworks stream heavier down your face. You simply shatter and Cordelia wraps her arms around you like she's trying to hold every piece of you together. "Oh, my baby. Okay, shh. It’s okay," the blonde cooes in your ear, rubbing calming circles into your back.

Her warm arms and floral scent keeps you grounded. You feel safe. Maybe it is okay.  "Do you want to talk about it, my lovely? Or no?"

You shake your head. You're too tired, and you don't feel like explaining everything. It's too much, too heavy, and you feel too weak.

"Okay. That's okay. Can I at least clean them for you? I don't want my girl getting an infection."

For once you speak up a quiet, "yes that's okay," and it hurts but you know that you’re being too nonresponsive already and you feel like a lot of work right now.

Cordelia grabs your hand and brings you back into the bathroom. She waits for your permission with her fingers resting on the waistband of your sweatpants. She'd wait here forever until you were ready. But you feel like you’ve already wasted so much of her time.

You nod your head and then Cordelia starts to slide your pants down your legs and you want her to stop. You want to take your permission back but you can't seem to talk. You can't seem to do anything and, god, you feel like you can't even breathe.

She doesn't gasp when she sees your bloody thigh. Her face doesn't contort into disgust. She looks so soft and gentle and you wonder how someone could be so pure enough to love someone like you.

She lifts you onto the bathroom counter. You don't even notice that you moved at first.

And even as Cordelia was looking straight at the bloody cuts, you still felt the need to lie and tell her that you weren't hurting actually yourself. It didn't feel real. Almost like you were shoved into another persons body with all of these scars and hurt on it.

You notice Cordelia looking at your whole thigh, how she can see all the old scars there. It hurts the most for her to see recent ones. Ones she can tell have been from the past weeks, even days, and she had absolutely no clue about it until now.

"I want you to tell me, my love," she says, so softly, and smiles gently too like she's not talking about you hurting yourself. "Okay? Whenever you feel like this, come to me, baby."

You nod simply, like it's the easiest task in the world. But you're not sure that you'll be able to even do that. You can see the pain and worry on Cordelia's face beneath that smile, and you don't want to hurt her anymore.

She grabs your hand, holds it there tightly. She knows you always like to hold it when you're upset or nervous, or even when you get shots at the doctors. She doesn't need to tell you that you're allowed to squeeze it; you already know you can.

Cordelia dabs away the blood with a wet cloth. It sends a sting throughout your entire body. You squeeze her hand and bite your lip hard enough to draw blood. All Cordelia can say is, "I know, I know, baby. I'm sorry. I'm almost done." And you wonder why she's apologizing. I did this. I brought this on myself. It's my fault.

Cordelia gently applies some antiseptic to your cuts and then she adds some band-aids on top. They're not the boring tan ones either. They're colorful and it even puts a smile on your face because it's such a Cordelia thing to do.

"There we go. All better," she says, as if cutting yourself wasn't the scariest thing in the world for her. But right now it is all better. You're bandaged up and Cordelia is holding your hand and smiling at you. Right now you don't hurt as much.

She leans forward and places a kiss on your nose. You crinkle it up and giggle at her. "You're so pretty, ya know." And it's not a question. She's not asking if you know that you're pretty. Because she knows that you really don't think you are. Especially not like this. But it doesn't matter right now. She just needs you to know that she thinks it so then it has to be true.

You're gonna cry again because your heart feels so tender, but then Cordelia is talking again and you get lost away in her voice. "How about we go have some hot cocoa by the fire? You feel like a little icicle." She says it like nothing has changed. Like she hadn't just found out that you're really a danger to yourself.

And you nod because you're still the same person you were to her thirty minutes ago. You still love cuddling her by the fireplace with a cup of hot chocolate that she made you. That hasn't changed, neither has her love for you.

[aboutcustardcreams]

Y/n: *knocks at the fridge’s door and waits*

Cordelia and Mina share a quizzical look

Y/n: *grins and knocks again*

Cordelia: *already struggles to keep a serious expression and turns to Mina* ask her, love

Mina: ask her what? *frowns*

Cordelia: just ask her why she is knocking at the fridge’s door or we won’t have any dinner tonight…

Y/n: *grins evilly in anticipation*

Mina: *sighs and tiredly rubs the root of her nose* sweetheart, why are you knocking at the fridge’s door?

Y/n: because … *stops dramatically to add suspense while Cordelia is already crying in laughter* there could be a salad dressing

Mina: *struggles to keep a serious expression*

Cordelia: *lying on the floor* HELP.

[camillelespanayesbtch]

✨Sarah Paulson Masterlist✨

!!!NO MINORS!!! 18+

Diane Sherman: Eyes boring a way through me Paralyze, controlling completely

Diane Sherman: Co-com-comparison is killing me slowly...And I’m so sick of myself, rather be, rather be. Anyone, anyone else

Diane Sherman, Ally Mayfair: We're Making Reasons To Destroy Our Believing. I See You Looking At Me, and Now I Don't Know Who To Believe

Diane Sherman: Pick Your Poison

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Billie Dean Howard: Strangers to Friends, Friends into Lovers, and Strangers Again P1, P2

Billie Dean Howard: Maybe You'll Start Slipping Slowly And Find Me Again

Wilhemina Venable, Billie Dean Howard: I see darkness in you

Billie Dean Howard, Audrey Tindall: Open hand or closed fist would be fine. The blood is red and sweet as cherry wine

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Wilhemina Venable: You stalker, watcher, psychopath (There's only one Wilhemina Fucking Venable)

Wilhemina Venable: Think About Your Hero, When You’re At Ground Zero

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Cordelia Goode: Baby’s Got Trouble. Don’t Know How To Live. Don’t Want To Die

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Sally McKenna: Hate To See Your Heart Break

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Xandra Terrell: There Is Something About The Way You Are That Makes Me (Sigh)

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Audrey Tindall: You're The Next Drew Barry, And I Want More

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Alice Macray: I Pray For Forgiveness You Can't Grant Me.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Mildred Ratched: I Wanna Be Your Bubblegum Bitch

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

More on my AO3: TindallsGal

[lanawinters-ily]

The Purple Dragon

Wilhelmina Venable is the most unapproachable, untouchable individual you had ever met, yet she has a soft spot for you. Why?

Pairing: Wilhelmina Venable x Reader

Word Count: 1600

Warnings: mention of struggling with mental health

Wilhelmina Venable was a complex individual. Stand-offish, rude, stubborn. The negative descriptions could go on, yet some element of you felt drawn to her.

Throughout your lifetime you had always sought out hidden meanings - in books, signs, & eventually people. Being a firm believer in the fact that everything happens for a reason, meant that you always thought that people acted a certain way because of a certain thing.

There must be an explanation for everything - past or present. Whether this was a desire to control, or to balance the unknown in life, you didn’t know.

All that mattered was your inquisition. And consequently, this would lead you on the greatest adventure of your life.

You had known her for almost a year, the longest lasting assistant she had ever had. It could be due to your competence, your failure to give up, or possibly some element of Ms Venable.

However, this didn’t make working with the redhead any easier. She was called the ‘purple dragon’ for a reason; holding a fiery passion that most considered anger.

But not you.

Because of this, you had always treated Venable with the kindest of hearts. This was not unusual for you, but even the most saint-like person could crumble with one strike of the redhead’s stony glare. Luckily you had everlasting compassion when it came to even the most difficult of souls.

Well, not all the time.

It was a bad day. One of those days in which the bed is so comfy, so warm, so safe, that it seems impossible to leave. Your heart was heavy, & your mind even more so, dragging your body into the heavy depths; sinking & drowning as you were held down by the currents of numbness.

You should have called in sick, taken a day off for yourself, but you weren’t very good at doing this. Being a burden, a difficulty, seemed far worse than pulling yourself through the workday, so you chose to stumble into the office with the countenance of a particularly exhausted zombie.

Wilhelmina was also having a rough day, waking up with severe pain along her spine. This pain was not only physical, it also brought with it a fair share of mental anguish - mostly made up of resentment & irritation at her weakness.

What only made this worse was what the redhead discovered when she arrived at work. She had forgotten to bring her bag, & therefore, her medication.

Fuck, she cursed.

As the pain increased, she became even more aware of the fact that she couldn’t drive in this condition. She didn’t have a phone or any money either, so it’s not like she could call a taxi to pop home. Wilhelmina was just going to have to grit her teeth & bare it for the next few hours, hoping that the gods would spare her the agony just this once.

“Ms Venable? Are you alright?”

You had appeared in the doorway of Wilhelmina’s office, eyes worriedly scanning her hunched over figure.

The redhead snapped up into an unnoticeable posture, feigning normality despite the pained shudder that rippled through her body.

“I’m just fine Miss Y/L/N.”

It was her turn to do a double take, looking at you with narrowed eyes as she scrutinised your appearance.

“On the contrary, it seems that you are not.”

This was entirely in character for Ms Venable to make such a blunt observation, so you were used to it. However, for some reason, today it was the last straw.

You bursted into noisy tears & sank to the ground. Curled up into a ball, you sobbed uncontrollably, not even caring about who was watching. What you were crying about, you weren’t quite sure. All you knew was that you couldn’t take today, & your emotions had just spilled out in a violent flow.

All you wanted was to lay on this cold, uncomforting floor & fall asleep. Or disappear. Anything would be better than this.

"Hey, sh sh sh," a gentle voice shushed your sobs of despair.

The contrast in tone led you to believe that another of your colleagues had come to your rescue, yet you didn't recognize the voice. You looked up in confusion, only to be met with a blur of purple.

Ms Venable; formidable, heartless, cold Ms Venable was knelt next to you.

"Come on, little one. Let's get you up." She said in a whispered tone.

Half in shock, half still in despair, you allowed yourself to be led to the purple sofa by the window. Your body felt so numb, not feeling Ms Venable's tight grip, or the sofa material as you sank into it. All you could do was sit & stare blankly, too overwhelmed internally to make a sound.

A familiar hand just stroked through your messy hair, silently understanding that words were too much. Lulling you into a calm, dreamlike state, this repetitive motion was just what you needed.

As you caught your heavy breaths & your parasympathetic system took hold, Wilhelmina was facing her own battle.

Her back was still in agony, even more so after kneeling & supporting your weight. Yet, somehow, her heart hurt thrice as much.

She never wanted it to be this way. You were the kindest, sweetest, most gentle person she had ever met. There was an essence about you that was addictive to Wilhelmina, a perfume of lightness that she couldn't help but smell until she was perfectly dizzy with love.

That was the issue. Love.

"Ms Venable," you mumbled. "Your back, you can't be sitting like this it-"

"It's okay little one, I'm alright." She spoke gently. "And call me Wilhelmina."

You noticed. You saw her. If possible, the butterflies in Mina's stomach flew more frantically as she tried to control the deep blush that settled on her cheeks.

God, she felt like a lovesick teenager all of a sudden.

"Okay, Mina." You said cheekily, gaining some colour back to your previously pale disposition.

Wilhelmina gave you a stern look, but it was more a caricature of her usual demeanor, turned soft by you.

You both wanted to say something, but were simply lost in each other's eyes. Her pupils were a rich brown, so deep that you could wander in them for hours and never get bored.

Without warning, she moved closer to you, resting her hand onto your knee. You closed the gap, pulling her into a kiss of fiery passion.

Perhaps she did like being a dragon after all, just not in the way she had expected.

Wilhelmina was hypnotic; a drug, and now you had a taste you just couldn't get enough. And from the way she was kissing you, it seemed as if she was just as addicted.

She was the first to pull away, which made your breath shudder with anxiety. What if she regretted this?

But her comforting hand resting on your cheek, and the look of adoration in her eyes told you otherwise.

"What's going on sweet one, hm?"

You broke her gaze, feeling entirely too vulnerable. There was nothing you hated more than explaining your mental state; it didn't even make sense to you so how were you to express it.

"It's just one of those days Mina, where everything feels...wrong." You sighed. "I don't really know how to say it in a way that makes sense."

"It's okay." Wilhelmina nodded. "I think I get where you're coming from. Sometimes when I'm having a bad day with my back, I can struggle with that too."

"You do?" You said in surprise.

"Yes, darling. I do."

"But you're always so strong. I never would have thought."

"People have different ways of showing it, little one." Mina spoke gently. "I snap at people, I get angry, I scream; all because I feel so out of control."

"Oh." You said. It all made sense now.

This time, she captured your lips in a kiss. It was more slow and steady than the former; a way of saying 'we have time'.

So, you sat there for a while, quietly soaking in each other's presence and stealing a kiss every few moments.

If someone had told you an hour ago that Wilhelmina Venable would be looking at you like this, being gentle with you like this, you would have laughed in their face.

Never did you think that your feelings would be returned, and neither did she.

Suddenly the door creaked open, and one of your colleagues stepped in. Instantly you tensed, waiting for Wilhelmina to turn away from you, to be embarrassed by you.

But she sat, unmoving, as her steely gaze fixed on her new target.

"Susan." She said bluntly. "What have I told you about knocking before disturbing me?"

Now Susan was a fairly confident woman, chatty most times. But in the presence of the purple dragon, she crumbled and stuttered.

"I j-just needed-"

"Needed what? Something so important that you decided to barge straight into my office unannounced? An emergency, perhaps?"

"Well, no but-"

"Well then I'd prefer if you let us be, thank you."

And that was that. Susan scuttled out of the room like a scolded child. To your utmost surprise, Wilhelmina pulled you into her side and kissed your hairline.

"No harm will come to you now I'm around, little one."

"I love you Mina."

"I love you most, my sweet."

[lotties-ashwagandha]

CURSED (nsfw)

billie dean howard x gn!reader, word count 1.2k

the premiere of the new season of billie's show gets rescheduled last minute, but you have a way to take her mind off the disappointment.

A harsh silence enveloped the two of you. You were sitting at the edge of Billie’s bed, and you watched as she set her phone down on the vanity and began to pace the length of the room. 

The premiere of her show had been rescheduled on short notice. You were meant to fly out with her tomorrow for press meetings, interviews, every opportunity for recognition Billie deserved for her work. Your suitcases were packed and ready at the foot of the bed. 

Billie looked into the mirror of the vanity, sighing as she fixed a non-existent flaw of her eye makeup with the edge of her pale pink acrylics. 

You were at a loss for what to do – you had tried comforting her verbally, but she had barely said a word to you in the minutes after receiving the call. She got like this often when she was upset, silent and uninterested and cynical. 

You stood from the bed. Tentatively you stepped toward her. You placed your hands on her waist when you came up behind her, resting your chin on her shoulder and watching her reflection in the mirror. 

Disappointment swam in her eyes as she stared unfocused into her own reflection. You knew how much she had been looking forward to the premiere. Even if it would take place in a few weeks instead of tomorrow, the two of you had been planning this weekend for months. 

“I’m sorry,” you said softly, “that it was canceled. I know how excited you were.” 

Billie nodded, taking one of your hands in her own. She offered you a halfhearted smile in the reflection of the mirror. “You didn’t cause it, don’t apologize.” 

In response, you pressed a kiss to her neck, the junction where her neck met her shoulder. After a moment you kissed her again, and began to move up her neck, trailing kisses up to her jaw. You felt her relax slightly under your touch, a great sigh leaving her chest. 

Billie turned in your arms. She kissed you, bringing a hand up to rest at your jaw and looping her arms around you. The kiss was almost lazy, natural and reflexive to the two of you. You were overcome by the love evident in her touch. 

She pulled away only for a moment before capturing your lips again. This time, you felt hunger in her embrace – in the way her lips met yours in a way dripping with desperation, in the way she was backing you towards the bed. 

You denied your instinct to let her push you onto the bed – you wanted this, and she did too, but you wanted to give her more. You wanted her to feel the same euphoria she often gave you before herself, especially after the evening’s disappointment. She needed distraction, as was evident in every moment you spent in her arms, and you were always willing to give it. 

You turned her, reversing your positions. A look of surprise came over her features as the backs of her thighs pressed against the bed. 

You hadn’t said anything, but she nodded at the proposed switch in roles, and when you tried to push her down onto the bed, she let you. Billie pulled you down on top of her, slipping her hands under the hem of your shirt and letting them travel up your back. In a moment of impatience she pulled your shirt off and tossed it to the floor. 

You grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head. “Keep them there,” you warned her with a stern look, and she smiled at you in amusement. You hardly ever took dominance over her, it was foreign to both of you, but you were enjoying it. 

“This is new,” she taunted, unserious, yet you could see the desire clawing at her through the mask of her ego. “You’re learning, and so well.” 

You shook your head, brushing off her comment. You didn’t give her the satisfaction of an answer, pulling off her blouse and attaching your lips to her chest. Her breath caught as you trailed kisses down her sternum, nipping at her chest, leaving marks in your wake as you traveled down her abdomen. 

“You’re so beautiful,” you murmured into her skin, and a slight blush overtook her features. She shifted restlessly – her anticipation was evident, beautiful in the fervor with which she needed you. You understood why she was usually so addicted to you underneath her, you were drunk on the power of having her need nothing in the world but you. 

You moved between her legs, and instinctively her hips bucked toward you. As you pulled the rest of her clothes off she let out another sigh, this time out of pleasure, out of desire. 

With air-light touches you caressed her thighs. Slowly you kissed up the length of them, watching her expression closely. Desperation overtook her features, and her breath was shaky. One of her hands had moved to weave into your hair, a wordless plea for your attention. 

Just as she thought relief would finally come between her thighs, you moved away. With a look of satisfaction you climbed back up her body, straddling her, leaning down to kiss her. 

“What are you doing?” she asked in a whine. No one ever denied Billie anything, especially you. 

You shrugged. You trailed your hand down her abdomen, let it rest at her hip as you watched her squirm. “Beg.” 

She scoffed. She shook her head. “I’m not begging.” 

With a tantalizing smile you moved your hands away. Her only form of contact was the way you were straddling her. “Prove how much you want this. Beg for it, or you get nothing.” 

She sighed, and desire won over her pride, though it was not without a battle of ego. “Please,” she said. “Please, I need this. You know I need this, I need you.” 

You considered her words a victory, one of the scarce victories of dominance you took over her. In reward you slipped back between her legs. Finally relief came to her, your tongue sliding through her wetness. Billie moaned, her hips bucking into you again. You held them down, circling your arms around her tense thighs. 

You focused yourself on her clit, noting every response her body gave to your ministrations. Her moans, her whines let freely go as you slipped two fingers into her. She gasped, her new grip in your hair tightening dramatically as you set a pace that was quickly ruining her. 

Though earlier she had been utterly opposed that you’d made her beg, quiet pleas spilled from her lips as you brought her closer to the edge. Your name on her tongue like a curse, like poison you would drink from the fountain of your devotion. 

“Cum for me,” you murmured when she was close, and her body responded immediately – you coaxed her through her climax, the pace of your tongue and your hand working in sequence to prolong it as much as you could for her. 

When she came down from it, you pulled away. You laid at her side, pulling her into you to press a kiss to her shoulder and then to her lips, the two of you engulfed in the softness of her newfound peace. Billie relaxed into your embrace, letting you hold her as exhaustion overtook her. Peace found you both in inexplicable wonder, anxiety cursed in your devotion.

[oh-mydarling]

GIRLS' NIGHT

a drunken reader returns home to her lovers

pairing: Billie Dean Howard x Cordelia Goode x Reader

Word count: 2.2K

warnings: alcohol, vomiting (not explicitly mentioned)

It was a Friday night at the coven and like always, that meant that you witches dispersed across the city. Some of the younger girls headed home for the weekend with their families and the older ones typically hung around, out drinking and clubbing every weekend. 

You weren’t either, really. You didn’t have much of a family to go home to; the coven was your family as far as you were concerned. And as for the drinking, you weren’t a massive fan. Your ideal weekend was spent with your two loves in the quiet of the New Orleans mansion, reading and napping the stressful week away. 

The three of you did have an agreement that while you all wanted nothing more than to spend every waking moment together, it was good to have space and do things separately. After all, it made it all the more rewarding when you came back to each other after a day apart and got to relish in each others’ presence. 

So, on this occasion, you were getting ready to head out with Madison and Zoe. You were perched at the vanity, adding the finishing touches to your makeup while Billie lay sprawled on the bed, watching you intently in the mirror. She was still dressed from work, letting you have the bathroom before she showered and changed for the evening, but her feet were up in the air with her little pink slippers on, softening her appearance.

Delia was elsewhere in the coven, pottering around and preparing to close down for the night. There were a few young witches whose weekend plans had fallen through, and she had organised a movie night for them which she would be attending; right now, she was pouring popcorn into bowls and arranging snack platters for the girls. She felt awful that their weekends hadn’t gone to plan, and so she was eager to make them happy. 

“You look perfect, angel” Billie drawled out, coming up behind you to give you a kiss on the cheek, “I wish I was coming so I could look at you across the bar,” she smirked, winking at you in the mirror. You laughed, blushing at her affection, “I wish you were coming too, Bill.” 

“You’re gonna have a lovely time, baby, I’m excited for you!” 

You laughed, “Not as lovely as you! A cute movie night with the little ones,” you teased, getting up from your chair to meet the other girls downstairs. 

“Oh ha ha,” she laughed sarcastically, following you down the stairs into the kitchen to say bye to Delia. 

Your supreme looked up from where she was working in the kitchen, giving you a soft smile and holding out an arm to bring you in, “you look beautiful sweetheart,” she smiled, kissing your temple, “thank you Delia!” You smiled, excited to go out after their compliments raised your ego. 

“Look at our girl, do a twirl y/n!” Billie said, clapping her hands excitedly as you twirled for them, laughing lightly at their silliness. 

“Now I have to go, they’re waiting for me!” You laughed, trying to escape them after they had captured you in their arms, covering you with kisses. 

Your heels clicked down the hallway, running towards the girls as they waited for you by the door, Madison rolling her eyes at the three of you. 

“Let’s go, y/n!” 

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” 

You arrived at the bar and sat down at a corner table, sending a quick text to your girlfriends to let them know you arrived. Madison had gone to the bar to get you a drink, and you already regretted allowing her to choose your beverage, knowing she would likely be getting you whatever she thought would get you drunk the fastest. 

Zoe was at the bar with her, ordering herself what you predicted to be a vodka coke, her usual drink of choice. 

When they both returned, you got straight into the gossip, Madison giving you the gory details of her latest endeavours with her co-stars and Zoe gushing about Kyle. They always gave you the opportunity to chat about your relationship, but for some reason you never really wanted to. It felt weird to discuss the intimate details of your love life with the other witches, knowing you would be exposing their supreme, although she would’t have minded, of course. 

You hadn’t really been keeping an eye on your drink; once you had had a few, you became so engrossed in conversation and telling your friends how much you loved them that you didn’t quite realise how often Madi made a trip to the bar to refill your drink. You didn’t even question it when when she mixed up the choice, preferring to mix alcohols instead of keeping you to one. 

Some would perhaps call it a friendly sabotage, but you knew she just wanted you to let loose for one. And let loose you did. After getting kicked out of the bar for refusing to stop dancing on the table, the other girls had finally admitted defeat and decided they had better walk you home.

Back at the coven, none of the witches had really heard your approach, all too engrossed in the movie they were watching, although Billie would definitely deny that later. 

They didn’t hear you stumble into the gates, trying and failing to push them open, nor did they hear you laughing your way up the front steps and struggling with your key in the lock while Madison rolled her eyes. 

They did, however, hear you run into the lounge where the movie was playing, flicking on the lights and gaining the attention of every witch in the room. 

Their heads whipped round at you stood in the doorway with a goofy smile, Cordelia frowning at you confusedly while Billie smirked. 

“Hello everybody,” you grinned, “I love you all!” You shouted, making Billie snort.

The younger girls giggled, looking nervously at each other; this wasn’t what they had predicted for movie night, that was for sure. 

Cordelia hopped up from her seat snuggled with the girls, ushering you out of the room while everyone burst into a fit of giggles, ‘okay, lets go and get you some water,” she mumbled, shooting a glare at Zoe and Madison. 

Billie followed shortly after, switching the light back off to continue the movie while she wandered into the kitchen where you now were. 

You had climbed up onto a chair of the kitchen table, arms in the air and swaying slightly while singing very badly. Poor Cordelia was fretting, holding onto the bottom of your skirt to keep you stable and trying to coax you down from the chair, while simultaneously scolding Zoe and Madison for being so irresponsible with you. 

Bille sauntered in and leant against the doorway with her arms crossed, smirking at you. When you caught sight of her, you shrieked, pointing towards her, “my billie! There’s my silly billie!” You laughed hysterically, making her chuckle while Cordelia sighed, having now let you go so she could rub her temples in stress. 

Billie came towards you, certain she would have more success than Cordelia in getting you down from the chair because she was laughing along with you, “well hello baby,” she laughed, “it looks like you had a nice time!” 

She had her hands on your waist, looking up at you with the sweetest smile. 

You were laughing, head thrown back and glowing under the light of the kitchen, and Bille swore her heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t often you let yourself relax this much, and not only was it hilarious, but it warmed her through to know that you were enjoying yourself and felt safe enough to let your hair down. 

“Billie, get her down,” Cordelia mumbled from where she stood against the kitchen counter, watching nervously in case you slipped. 

“It’s okay Delia,” the medium smiled over at her, offering reassurance that she had you, you wouldn’t fall. 

Zoe and Madison had skulked out of the kitchen, not wanting to be blamed for your silly behaviour, and so just the three of you remained in the kitchen now while the other witches supervised the remainders of movie night with the youngest girls. 

“Baby, why don’t you come down and we can go to bed?” Cordelia asked, approaching you and holding out a hand next to Billie, which you quickly accepted, mistaking her tone for flirting, “ooh bed time, don’t mind if I do,” you leapt down and wiggled your eyebrows, causing Billie to snort once again, absolutely loving this side of you. 

You pressed your lips sloppily against the supreme’s mouth, and she entertained you, despite the taste of alcohol that coated your tongue. 

Billie cleared her throat next to you, “I hope you’re not forgetting me, babydoll,” she winked, causing you to pull away from Cordelia and plant your lips on hers next, giggling into the kiss. 

You stopped suddenly, growing serious as you stared between them both, “I want fries.” You stated, not wavering in the slightest. 

Cordelia laughed lightly, heading to the freezer to take them out and put them in the oven, “coming right up!” 

“Thanks mommy!” You grinned cheekily, plopping yourself down on the kitchen chair you were once stood on. 

“Oh Jesus,” Cordelia mumbled, while Billie lost her shit, cackling in a way you hadn’t heard for quite some time, which then had you doubled over laughing at her. 

“What am I gonna do with you!” Delia laughed, coming over to sit next to you. 

After lots of giggles and lots of nonsense from you, your fries were finally ready and Billie plated them up for you, handing them over with a wry smile. 

You decided to skip the table and walked off down the hallway with your plate, leaving both women stood confusedly in your wake, frozen in stupor given the events of the evening. 

You had been craving this since you had arrived at the bar; in fact, the drunk food was half the reason you decided to go in the first place, and you just couldn’t wait to take a bite. What you hadn’t considered, though, was the temperature of the food straight out of the oven, and you promptly yelped upon munching a fry and dropped the plate in shock. 

The two blondes looked at each other, confused, before silently agreeing to venture out and find the source of the clatter. The sight that they found was definitely not one they anticipated; you were sat on the floor in a heap, plate of fries in front of you, crying silently. When you saw the two women approach, you started wailing, “my fries! My fries!” 

Billie was laughing, which made you even more emotional in your drunken state, so Cordelia shot her a glare and sat down next to you, “no baby, don’t worry! They’re okay, see? They’re still on the plate! You can still eat them!” 

And with that permission, you didn’t even wait to pick the plate up, instead dining on the fries that now sat on the floor and laughing to yourself at how funny it all was. 

Suddenly you stopped munching. Mouth freezing while still half full of food, and you looked up at Cordelia worried. She knew instantly what was about to happen and she dragged you up to stand, “ooookay, let’s go to the bathroom, let’s go!” 

She escorted you hurriedly up the stairs and into the ensuite where you prompted to empty your stomach of your floor fries. Cordelia held your hair back and rubbed circles on your back while Billie was still downstairs, prepping to deal with the inevitable hangover that awaited you. 

She filled a jug of water, grabbed a salty snack for your morning cravings, and gathered up all the painkillers she could find; Cordelia would know which ones were best for you. 

When she entered the bedroom, she could hear you and your girlfriend talking quietly,  and after setting the items down she followed the sound into the bathroom, where she found you laying on the tile floor complaining to Delia about how you would never go out again. 

“Poor baby,” Billie cooed, sitting down on the floor so she could stroke your hair. Delia was perched on the side of the bath, watching you carefully in case you needed to throw up again. 

When you did muster up enough energy to move, they helped steady you as you walked out of the bathroom towards your bed, where you sat up against the pillows watching them move around the room, preparing themselves for an evening of sleep. 

Cordelia wore silk pyjamas, applying moisturiser in the vanity and brushing her hair. Billie was gathering up her clothes, putting her heels back in the wardrobe, and brushing her teeth at the same time. 

You sat silently, watching them both and incredibly grateful that they were the people you got to come home to. 

Eventually, they made their way into bed with you, nestling you between them so they could keep an eye on you overnight. Cordelia handed you water she had poured from the jug and Billie stroke your hair, coaxing you to sleep; she knew you were always wired when you came home drunk, but she also knew how grateful you would be for a good night of sleep. 

The next morning, the sun cracked through the window in the gap Cordelia had left in the curtains, and it felt to you as though it had penetrated your skull. Your head was pounding and the room was spinning, but at least you had your two loves to hold you still. 

taglist: @lanawinters-ily

[stayevildarling]

Wilhemina Venable x Reader - Rest up little one

A/N: dedicated to @stepintomyworld 💜 please remember to take care of yourself!

tw/tags: mention of headaches, mention of fatigue, mention of medication, fluff/comfort

word count: 1.5k

taglist:

@lunaticwhittaker , @billiebeanhoward , @lanawinters-ily , @kenzbro , @minaslittleone , @httpfiftyshadesofgay @whitelotus00 , @ninaahelvar , @paulsonsratched , @vintagepaulson , @isle-of-earle , @grilledcheeseandguavajelly , @lucyintheskywithxanax , @fanfics4world , @mymiraclewitch , @hazard-to-myself , @awritersometimes , @wastdstime , @p1pecleanerwitheyes , @queen2234 , @ihartnat , @lifebyinez , @ahsatanizgay , @blu3dimples

When you step into your shared apartment, you sigh as you take off your shoes, abandoning them somewhere with your bag. The pain in your head is radiating down your entire body, leaving you a little paralyzed as you try and make it to the fridge to get some water. You dont realize the light coming frown Wilhemina‘s office down the hallway, the lights turned on around the apartment and her overall presence, the exhaustion and pain too much to notice any of your surroundings.

The woman glances up from her computer, waiting patiently for your return, the way you would often slip into her office on home office days, carrying some tea as well as a gentle smile, happy and content to be back at home with your girlfriend. But you had been so wrapped up in today and how work had gone sideways, that you forgot, assuming she would be at work for another few hours. After getting some water and taking some of your medication, you collapse onto the sofa, turning off all the lights before laying down, closing your eyes and hoping for the pounding in your head to stop.

Wilhemina carefully gets up from her chair, reaching for her cane as she makes her way over to you. Her heart breaks a little at the sight, the woman having been concerned all day. You hadn‘t meant to be at work this early in the morning, an early shift but scheduled so you would still have plenty of time to have your usual breakfast routine and doing some crosswords together. But your work had texted last night, requested you a few hours sooner and you agreed, letting your girlfriend know.

And the redhead never minded this, her being the same, always dedicated to work, showing up early or staying late for the sake of the company. She wasn‘t one to judge, especially not you but she had noticed how hard your work could get, how rough the shifts could be, the people there not always treating you the nicest and the rare times you told her about some customers, which made her blood boil. But she knew about your headaches too and the cold that you had been downplaying for days, hearing the pain in your throat when talking and hearing the sneezes and occasional sniffling.

And the two of you are both undeniably stubborn, maybe the reason she had fallen for you, so alike the woman who never usually prioritizes her needs. But she didn‘t like it, you ultimately having been the one to teach her how to take care of herself and she had gotten better. Years ago she had no family, no decent hobby when the world revolved around work only. But then she met you and suddenly she had those things, a person to call her home and family, you who encouraged her to make her health a priority, getting her to her appointments, sorting her medication and getting a better work schedule. You had been so kind and loving, slowly tumbling her walls down.

A warm bath waiting for her at night, as well as a home cooked meal, slowly teaching the woman it was okay to let go every once in a while and let someone take care of her. And so the sight of you mostly in the dark with your eyes squeezed shut, awake but the exhaustion heavy on your body, causes her to falter. She could tell today was bad, not even the sound of her cane alerting you of her presence. A small part of her wants to scold you for going to work while not feeling great either way, having insisted on you taking some sick days but you not budging and while she understood, she worried about your wellbeing, worried that the stress and pressure would eventually be too much on your body and soul.

„Little one?“ she whisper softly as she hovers above the sofa, one of her hands reaching your forehead and you immediately tense, very sensitive to touch whenever your headaches are getting the better of you. Her presence startles you and you struggle for a moment to comprehend why she was home and how you could have possibly missed that detail. „Mina?“ you ask with furrowed brows, trying to keep your eyes closed as your headache overwhelms you again, the pain pounding against your skull.

And Mina being Mina she doesn‘t say anything, knowing you are sensitive to touch on these days, knowing there was no point in words right now as they would only overwhelm you. She gently steps away, adjusting the sound of her cane a little as she taps much gentler, making her way to the kitchen. She wastes no time in preparing some tea and a snack for you, knowing those things couldn‘t really take the pain but mostly soothed you either way. She opts for your favorite tea that the two of you had discovered on one of your days out together.

It was one that your girlfriend remembered fondly, the time you went to the markets and the smell of lavender greeted you both, causing your eyes to meet and some giggling to errupt between you. You strolled the entire afternoon, discovering food trucks together, buying the new tea that you both tried and fell in love with. She remembered the time you both went home in the sunset together, holding each other‘s hand. The memory makes her smile every time, cherishing the quiet moments with you more than anything, reading to each other, laying in each other‘s arms but that one had burnt itself into her brain and heart.

Once the kettle finishes, she pours you a cup, finding some cookies for you as she carries the small plate and tea your way. She sets it down gently, making sure the clattering doesn‘t startle you before she sits down at the other end of the sofa. She glances at you one more time, watching as your body relaxes from what she assumes to be a tense day. And so she opts to reach for her book, quietly beginning to read the pages and watch over your eventually sleeping form. Her presence makes you feel safe and comfortable, the sleep and medicine finally ridding your body of the symptoms and pain and catching up on some much needed sleep.

And this was maybe the biggest part Wilhemina cherished about your relationship and you in return. The fact that you could sit beside each other in silence, even with one of you sleeping, always knowing the other is nearby and keeping you safe. Wilhemina reads her book, not leaving your side and by the time you wake up, feeling much better than before. Her brown eyes find yours and you can‘t help but smile seeing the way her glasses are on her nose from reading. „Hi“ you mumble out, your voice still a bit hoarse from sleeping. „Hey little one“ she greets you gently, noticing your features much less tense. „Feel better?“ she asks and you nod, your eyes guiltily finding hers for the way you had missed her being home earlier, how sensitive you had been to her touch.

You glance at the tea and cookies, and she smiles, nodding as you reach for one, appreciating the effort she went through for you. „What are you reading?“ you ask curiously before she shows you the book, you smiling as you had been listening to her talk about it for a while now. The two of you communicate in silence, your eyes reaching for hers and she doesn’t waste any time before setting her book down, offering her lap to you and you move, settling beside her and leaning into her touch. Her hands move to the back of your head and you feel her warmth spread through your entire body, replacing the feeling of fatigue, pain and stress from work with utter comfort and the feeling of home.

„Bad day huh?“ she asks as she glances at you and you simply nod into her chest before she instinctively pulls you a little closer. „Hows your day been?“ you ask, always caring more about your girlfriends wellbeing than your own. „Alright, better now“ she smiles and you can‘t help but chuckle at her gentleness. „You know you don‘t need to push yourself so hard, right?“ she speaks after a while, her tone soft despite the firmness in her statement. Your eyes meet hers and she locks her own with yours before she speaks again „I may not be the one to say this but you should be gentle with yourself“ she encourages and your heart swells for a moment, never expecting those words to leave her mouth when you first met the woman.

„I want you happy and healthy that‘s all and I won‘t push you but I‘m right here little one“ she speaks softly and you try hard to control the tears swelling in your eyes. Not exactly sad or happy ones, just emotional at your girlfriends encouraging words. She smiles softly before wiping them with her thumb, pulling you closer as you snuggle up to her chest. „I love you Mina“ you whisper as you cuddle into her and despite the words leaving her mouth seconds later, her brown eyes speak depths about the way she feels and cares for you.

[deliasbabe]

I'll Travel Far Beyond the Path of Reason (Take me back to Eden)- Cordelia x reader (Part 1)

You and Cordelia get into a fight and you are attacked by witch hunters. If you couldnt tell by the summary, heavy HEAVY angst.

I've been working on this for over a year and if I don't post it now I'll continue to tweak it until the end of time. Enjoy babes and I'll see you for part 2!

Words: 8.6k

Warnings: Violence, Blood, ANGST, drugging, drug & alcohol use, PTSD

How could you have been so stupid?

It had started off innocently. You had always played the good cop to your supreme’s bad cop. She dispensed the punishment, stern but always loving, and you spared the girls from it as much as possible. It had become sort of a banter between the two of you, the way you would intercept the issues before they ever reached her office door, correcting the situation so well she only ever heard about it months after the fact in hushed whispers. She would always scold you, but there was a hint of a smile only you could see, and she never was mad for long. So, when the girls called you the other night and admitted they messed up, you climbed out of bed and drove across town without a second thought, and without waking your sleeping girlfriend.

You thought it was simple, they snuck out after curfew, went to a party, and drank a bit too much. But when the cops knocked on the coven’s door two days later, your girlfriend was blindsided, and you had learned their little screw up wasn’t so little.

Grand theft auto, to be exact. Seems they had left out the part where they took some asshats car for a joyride and crashed it, but that was after he had been a little too handsy with the youngest and tried to spike her drink. You called it penance, but your girlfriend called it-

“A felony, Y/N.” She spat, “They committed a felony, and you kept it from me.”

“I didn’t know all of the information.” You argued, “All I knew was they snuck out and needed a ride.”

“You still should have told me. I’m responsible for those girls.” Cordelia fumed, “I know I let you get away with it before, but this is too far. What am I supposed to tell their parents? That their own teacher helped them leave the scene of a crime?”

“Once again, Dee,” You lamented, “I didn’t know. They kept that tidbit of information private.”

It was supposed to be date night, the one day a month you could manage to drag your workaholic girlfriend from her office and away from her responsibilities. But she was seething over her glass of red and you couldn’t seem to get a word in edgewise, so you quickly came to terms with the fact that it wasn’t going to be a pleasant evening, even if you were at one of the nicest places in town.

“You know that doesn’t matter.” She spit, “They could go to jail.”

“What would you have done if you’d known?” You asked, already knowing the answer, “If I had woken you up, what would you have done? Woken Mallory up so she could reverse time and make sure the whole thing didn’t happen? Magically move the dented pieces back into place? You couldn’t have done anything.”

“Don’t be condescending.” Cordelia growled, “You aren’t supposed to keep secrets from me, that’s not how this works. Especially when it comes to the girls. You should have said something.”

“So you could yell at them for sneaking out? So, when they did it again, they’d be too scared to call?” You asked, Cordelia shaking her head.

“They still lied to you,” She bit, “So your plan seems to have some flaws.”

“They were scared.” You argued, “They knew if they told me everything, I would’ve come to you.”

“You should have come to me regardless.” Cordelia spat, “I’m the headmistress of this academy and your supreme.”

“And I trust you with my life,” You said, “But right now you aren’t really showing your level head.”

And oh boy, if her eyes could shoot daggers, you’d be bleeding out on the floor. She scoffed, her jaw clenching and grinding as she mulled over her response. Normally, she would roll her eyes and grin at the joke, but she simply shook her head and grabbed her things, leaving the restaurant without another word.

“Delia…” You called after her, but she didn’t turn around, and your waitress was on you before you could even think to go after her, “I guess I’ll take the check.”

When you reached the parking lot, your car was gone, and you lolled your head back and let out a frustrated grunt as it started to drizzle. The symbolism wasn’t lost on you, walking across town in the rain only to come back with your tail between your legs. She was putting you through the ringer for this one, and while you couldn’t really blame her, she also wasn’t being completely fair. Not telling her the girls had snuck out was on you, one hundred percent. But you weren’t a mind reader, and you had absolutely no way of knowing the girls weren’t being truthful, you were just as surprised as she was. But still, you knew she needed someone to be angry with, now that the damage was done.

Still, an hour long walk in the now pouring rain seemed a bit excessive. The woman was blessed with the ability to transmutate but still left you stranded just to prove a point. You were lucky you had been in the city long enough to know your way around, especially at night. The choice to avoid the French Quarter added about twenty minutes to your trek, but it was the smarter option, given the string of muggings that seemed to plague the location, although the extra time didn’t help you escape your thoughts.

You and Cordelia had never fought like this. Sure, you bickered, but all it took was one well timed joke and the feeling was fleeting, replaced with poorly hidden smiles and ticklish sides. The arguments were meaningless, spurred on by minor miscommunications or the occasional poorly timed joke, never like this, if anything they were humorous. You knew Cordelia was protective, that she’d do anything for her girls, and you had grown to love her mama-bear tendencies, but she had never turned them on you.

You turned down an empty alley, a shortcut that would spit you out a few houses down from your destination, your desperation to get home overpowering your hatred of tiny, cramped, dimly lit spaces. You walked quickly, looking over your shoulder at every step, terrified that you would turn around and someone would be chasing you with an axe like the movies.

You glanced forward, a few more steps and you would be free, but as soon as you approached the exit, two men stepped into your view, and you stopped on a dime, “Going somewhere, witch?”

Witch Hunters.

Since the coven had gone public, more men were willing to join their ranks, and you turned on your heel and booked it the second they stepped in your direction. You never were a star athlete, though, and soon enough you were being pulled to the ground and restrained. You fought against it, earning a set of knuckles to the left side of your face, and you felt his ring scratch down your cheek as you tasted blood. You felt their hands everywhere, holding you down as three more blows hit, your stomach, the side of your ribs, and another to the face just for good measure. You tried to focus, but complete panic overwhelmed all your senses. You knew how to handle this. Cordelia had worked with you and trained you until you could do it in your sleep, but with the adrenaline pumping and the blood rushing through your ears you couldn’t seem to remember it at all, all you knew was that you had to get home to Cordelia to warn her, you couldn’t keep something from her again.

Somewhere in the haze you caught a flash of silver, a searing pain, and then the hands were gone. You didn’t remember pulling yourself up, but as you were dragging yourself back towards the house, you did remember having to dislodge your feet from under the dead bodies. It hurt to breathe, to stand, to move, but you mustered up what energy you could as you pulled yourself up the steps of the academy, wiping at your face as you spotted your car in the driveway, only for your hand to be covered in blood.

Your vision grew hazy as you reached for the doorknob, and you clumsily felt around till you were met with the cold, metal object, unable to trust your own eyes. You pressed your weight into the door, practically falling through and barely catching yourself on the entryway table. You spotted your lover in the kitchen, her back to you as you attempted to right yourself, “Dee…”

“I’m not talking to you.” She said shortly, shaking her head.

You lost your balance once more, falling into the wall this time. “No, Delia…” You tried again, your voice sounding strangled.

At the drop in your tone Cordelia was alarmed, shoulders squaring as she whipped her head around to meet your eyes. You didn’t think it was all that bad until you saw her expression, the way her eyes bugged out in horror, mouth gapping as she traced your form up and down, before her eyes landed on your stomach. You followed her gaze only to see a knife, and suddenly you were falling down, down, down.

You were pulsing in and out of consciousness, the world turning into a stop motion film. You saw her moving towards you, then she was on top of you, mouth forming around words and phrases you couldn’t seem to comprehend.

“What… Can you… Hold on… Stay with…”

You felt hands, first two on your face, tracing your cheekbone and calming you down. Then, you felt them everywhere, lifting you, and you fought against them with whatever strength you had left, deep laughs invading your mind as you felt those hands grip tighter and tighter. But then the rest of the hands were gone and there were those hands again, on your face and so soft, shushing you and lulling you into some limbo you didn’t know if you ever wanted to reach, running through your hair and grabbing your hand as you finally let the dark win.

“Just let it happen.”

Murmurs of familiar voices drew you into some semblance of consciousness. You couldn’t identify who was speaking, and for whatever reason, your eyelids felt like lead, unable to let even a sliver of light in.

But you could hear, the rustle of hair brushing against fabric, the tap of shoes.

“Not now.”

“You need to eat; it’s been two days.”

Then, a tone you recognized, still pleasant, but just enough bite to get the point across.

“I said not now.”

You tried to wiggle your fingers, flex your hands, show any sign of life, but there was some sort of disconnect between your body and mind, and it drove you nuts. Were you dead?

At the sound of the voice again, you wanted to reach out, to provide some comfort, but you couldn’t, and it made you want to scream. You were always claustrophobic, but this was a million times worse. You could feel your panic rising, the heat in your body constricting your lungs until you felt like you were suffocating. You heard a sound you couldn’t recognize, then the shuffling of feet.

“What’s going on?”

Then that voice, high pitched and panicked, “I don’t know.”

“Is she in pain? Do I need to get Mallory?”

That name, you knew that name, but why?

There was a pinch, then every nerve in your body was searing before going numb, the voices fading as you were desperately trying to claw your way back, losing your grip and falling into nothing once again.

When your eyes opened, the light blinded you and made your head throb, forcing you to shut them again. Slowly, you cracked one open at a time, trying to make sense of your surroundings. There were a pair of heels discarded by the bed, and the steady pounding of footsteps, one right after the other, a pause, and one right after the other again. You tried to lift your gaze up, only to be met with the glaring reflection of the sun rays in the mirror, and you shut your eyes and burrowed deeper under the covers. The footsteps stopped at the sound, stuttering against the hardwood, only to pick back up a moment later.

You cracked open one eye and looked down at the end of the bed, your girlfriend traversing the length of her bedroom, arms crossed, and a red thumbnail pinched between her teeth as she stared at the floor. You watched her for a moment, hair mused and lipstick smudged, wearing your favorite dress, and it almost brought a smile to your face, but then she turned around and you saw the dark maroon stain and everything came rushing back as your eyes snapped open.

She hadn’t changed, hadn’t washed her hands. The shoes discarded by your bed were the ones she was wearing, probably chucked to the side once the pain of the pacing had become too much to bear. You bit back tears, swallowed down the terror, and tried to speak, but your throat was dry and hoarse from the screaming. Your mouth moved over empty words, trying again and again until something finally fell out.

“You need to eat.”

Her gaze met yours, hands falling to her sides, but just as quickly as the relief had come, it was replaced by something haunted. She stepped towards you, arms reaching for you, then falling, then reaching again, until she settled on grabbing the sheets next to you, fingers fidgeting in the cotton. She met your eyes, looked away, looked back again, before choosing to stare at the headboard, “How are you feeling?”

You went with a joke, hoping to ease her discomfort, “Like I got stabbed.”

There was no laugh, no smile, not even a twitch at the corners of her mouth. You reached for her hand, rubbing your thumb along the back, but she pulled it away, smoothing out the wrinkles in her dress as she stepped back. “I’ll get you some water.”

“Delia…” You called after her, images racing through your mind of the last time she left you alone, causing your heart to bang in your chest, but she was already out the door, her feet tapping on the stairs, growing quieter with each passing second.

When she finally returned, it felt like an eternity had passed. She handed you the glass without even sparing you a glance, searching the room for a moment before she returned to your side with full hands. The glass between your lips was quickly replaced by a thermometer, a blood pressure cuff slipped up your arm and squeezing as you whined in protest.

“Shh,” She chided you, her voice absent of any of the warmth that used to feel like coming home, “Your blood pressure is still elevated.”

“You need to eat.” You said again, only for her to ignore you, so you settled for questions, anything to make her actually talk to you. “How long was I out for?”

She glanced up at you, looking perplexed for a moment before shaking her head and refocusing on the task at hand. “Four days.” She finally said, her hands reaching for the nightstand and coming back with a vial.

“Is everyone ok?” You asked, watching her draw the liquid from the vial up into a syringe.

“The girls are fine.” She answered, too focused on checking for air bubbles to even spare you a glance. Something was wrong, you felt it in your bones, but she ducked and weaved through every emotion.

“Are you ok?” You asked, reaching for her but coming up short as she stepped back.

She looked at you then, eyes hazy as she shook her head, “I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine.” You challenged, only for her to glare at you.

“You need rest.” She said, her eyes leaving yours once more, lifting your blanket and repositioning your leg, “You’re still healing.”

You felt tears burning behind your eyes, the fear still lingering that if you dared to sleep, you wouldn’t wake up. “I want to talk to you.” You said, trying to ignore the way your voice cracked as you grabbed her arm, halting her movements.

Her face fractured then, but only slightly, and you swore you heard her sniffle back tears. You thought you had her, but then she was reaching and prying your fingers off of her, the alcohol wipe drying your skin and burning your nostrils. “You can,” She murmured, shaking her head once more, “After you rest.”

You shook your head as she uncapped the needle, trying to wriggle out of her grasp, but within moments you were frozen in place, the needle pinching your skin and warmth quickly spreading through your veins, making your body go limp and your eyes droop. “But…” You began, fighting to keep your eyes open, your mouth moving. She shushed you, bringing her hands to your face and pressing her lips to your forehead, but you knew it was only to placate you, to give you a sliver of hope that everything was alright.

Over the next few days, you barely saw her, despite being stationed in her bedroom. The girls came and kept you company, but every time you would ask about Cordelia, they would dance around the subject, sharing glances you couldn’t quite understand and making some excuse about paperwork before changing the subject entirely. They did their best to keep your spirits up, but they knew they weren’t who you wanted, and you tried to ignore the pitiful looks they threw in your direction when they thought you couldn’t see them.

The only time you saw her was when she was administering your medication, coming up with every excuse to not be able to stay during the day. She promised you more time in the evening, only to knock you out the moment you dared to ask about anything outside of the weather.

She wasn’t sleeping, you knew this because you lived in her bed and she wasn’t in it. That, and you had spent enough time studying her face over the past week that you noticed the bags under her eyes becoming darker and darker. She had finally changed her clothes, but you didn’t know how, given that she avoided you for a majority of the day. Maybe she was grabbing them after she forced you into unconsciousness, or maybe she stockpiled them in her office. You grew to hate the sunset, the orange haze making your skin crawl at the thought of what was to come. You felt violated from being forced into submission, and as the days dragged on, you couldn’t help but feel the fear that lodged itself in your throat every time she would appear.

A week in, you broke, curled into a ball with tears streaming down your face as you begged, but she just reached for the vial once again, murmuring something about how your body needed rest, always more rest. She reached to stabilize you and you retreated, pulling your legs close to your body and pushing further and further up the bed every time she would bridge the gap, almost knocking yourself to the floor in the process.

Cordelia didn’t understand, brow pinched together as you begged, “Please, just talk to me.” She shook her head imperceptibly, eyes blank as she reached for you again, and you shrieked, launching yourself off the bed and onto the floor, “No!”

Cordelia stared at you in shock, her eyes scanning your face for some semblance of reason, but you weren’t even looking at her, eyes trained on the syringe as your face contorted in fear. She followed your line of sight, then looked back at you, her stoic expression splintering as the realization dawned on her. The syringe clattered to the floor, and you finally tore your eyes away, staring back at her with that same terrified expression as her eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry.” She choked, shaking her head as she forced herself to look away, her voice dropping to a whisper, “I can’t do this.”

You didn’t say anything as she walked out, couldn’t bring yourself to stop her, and as you sat on the floor and waited for someone to find you, you finally came to terms with your new reality, with the idea that even if you wanted it to, things would never be the same. You didn’t know how long you had been sitting there, but eventually Mallory picked you up from the floor and got you back into bed, foregoing your nightly medication. As the night drew on with no sleep in sight, you found you craved it, at least it was peaceful, unlike the war raging in your mind.

Something changed that day. The oblivion you once fought tooth and nail to stay out of had become your safe haven. By the time Mallory had visited you the next morning, you had demanded it, morning, noon, and night. You didn’t see Cordelia once in the week that followed, although with how much you were sleeping, you wouldn’t have noticed even if she had payed you a visit, although you doubted she did. Your supreme had always prided herself on her communication, but you knew her well enough to know that when it came to the hard things, it was the first to go. You didn’t know what you would say if she did decide to talk to you, didn’t know if there was anything to say.

Once they were sure you could manage to get around on your own, they let you return to your room, forcing you back into reality and removing every coping mechanism you had. You kept to yourself for the first few days, downing Benadryl like it was water and sleeping through most of the day. On the third day, you managed to stumble down for dinner, only for the seat at the head of the table to remain empty the entire time. The girls were all thrilled to see you, talking your ear off about all the things you had missed, but in your haze you could barely pay attention.

From the little you did hear, it seemed your supreme had found a way to solve your dilemma, convincing the man to change his story and drop the charges in exchange for a brand new, much nicer car. A quick and dirty fix that was so unlike her, you had to wonder what state she was in when she gave the green light. You told yourself it didn’t matter, that what was done was done, but when you went back to your room it was all you could think about, staring at the ceiling for as long as you could manage before you were reaching for the Benadryl once again.

You ran out on day four, and with it, so did your patience. You had cried and wallowed and overthought for weeks on end, an endless pit that did nothing but drag you down. You couldn’t live that way anymore, so you left your room, taking up residence in the common area and hoping the chatter would keep you grounded. You talked and laughed with the girls, but no matter how hard you tried, it all felt forced, a failed distraction from the emptiness that took up residence inside your chest. The harder you pushed, the worse it felt, and by the time dinner rolled around, you had reached some fucked-up form of acceptance, resigning to the fact that you probably wouldn’t ever feel whole again.

You saw her then, at the head of the table, talking quietly with some of the younger girls, and you forced yourself to keep your head down, pushing at your food, afraid that if she met your eyes, she would bolt again. It didn’t matter, she didn’t look in your direction once, not even when your youngest student, Lottie, called your name and asked you both to watch an incantation she had just learned, or as she called it, “A magic trick”. Despite the tightness in your chest, you couldn’t help but smile at the innocence there, the way everything was still so new to her and full of wonder. You wished you still had that, like you had when you first came to the academy, before you learned of the consequences.

Cordelia was the first to leave the table, and the tension was palpable. You could feel everyone’s eyes drift to you, only to look away without a word. You grabbed your dish and headed towards the kitchen, depositing your untouched dinner in the trash and your plate in the sink.

“Well look who’s back to the land of the living.” You heard Madison call out from behind you, turning to face her. Madison was never one to beat around the bush, and you waited for the question to cut you like a knife, “Did you and Foxxy break up?”

You ground your teeth, jaw muscles flexing and releasing as you contemplated your answer, only to be hit with a punch to the gut when you realized you didn’t have one. You thought you had accepted it, whatever it was, but your eyes were glassy against your own volition, stomach twisting into knots as you spit out, “I don’t know.”

Madison’s smirk fell, the prideful look in her eyes replaced with something you couldn’t read. She didn’t push like you expected, she just nodded, and that was all you needed for your world to crack open, any strength you had left spilling out and vanishing. You grabbed your shoes and keys, heading for the door as they called out for you, saying you couldn’t leave, you weren’t strong enough yet, you could get hurt, but you didn’t care.

You didn’t care if your stitches ripped and you bled out in the middle of nowhere. You didn’t care if you were hit by oncoming traffic and left to die by the side of the road. You didn’t care if you fell off a cliff and they had to fish your body out of the river. Everything, your entire life, your entire world, was gone. There was nothing left for you, it was taken, and you didn’t care what happened next.

You arrived at the swamp with nothing but a bottle of whiskey. Misty had taken you out there once to gather mud, told you how sometimes it was the only place she could go to clear her head, her sanctuary, and you thought it might help, but as you downed the bottle and laid on her bed, you couldn’t help but feel like you were desecrating sacred land. You didn’t know how people did this, how they just kept going and moved on no matter what horrors they faced. You laid down and stared at the stars and cursed the world for spinning, for time moving, because you hadn’t moved in weeks. No matter what you tried, you were still trapped in that alley, in that bed, and nothing could pull you out of it.

Well, something could, or someone, maybe, if they tried, but even that wasn’t a sure thing. You would be an idiot if you didn’t acknowledge that this was more than just an issue with Cordelia, that even if you did talk, even if you did work it out, it wouldn’t fix everything.

But at least you wouldn’t feel so alone.

When you walked through the doors three days later, she was talking with a student at the foot of the stairs, her head raising involuntarily at the sound and her eyes locking with yours. You looked away quickly, leaving your muddy shoes by the door and depositing your keys on the counter, and by the time you went to head up the stairs to shower, she was gone.

She didn’t come to dinner that night, nor the night after, and despite the girls knowing enough to not ask questions, you could hear the faint whispers when they thought you weren’t paying attention. Lottie, however, wasn’t privy to this social knowledge, and she told you everything. Apparently, the three days you were gone was the most time that anyone had seen the supreme in a month. She was back to her usual self, she even started teaching classes again, but the second you came back, she disappeared once more.

You booked a ticket home that night for the following week, quietly packing your things over the course of the next few days. You didn’t know what the future for you held, but you did know you wouldn’t find any closure here, and you weren’t willing to continue subjecting the girls to whatever this was. It was too much, and you couldn’t take it anymore, you needed to get out.

You did your best to avoid telling the girls, not wanting to cause yet another spectacle for them to gawk at, but they seemed to figure it out anyways, and you weren’t sure how. They asked questions about your return, you did your best to dodge them, and for a few days it worked, until the older girls cornered you two days before you were set to leave.

“When are you coming back?” Zoe asked, trying to be delicate as she rephrased the question for the 50th time.

You sighed, “I told you, I don’t know. This isn’t as big of a deal as you guys are making it out to be. I just have some things to take care of.”

“Cut the shit, bitch.” Madison sneered, rolling her eyes, “We’ve all seen the way you and our dear supreme have been skulking around. Are you coming back or not?”

You didn’t want to tell them the truth, knowing if you did then Cordelia was sure to find out about it. You didn’t know what would hurt worse, knowing you left and didn’t give her a chance to fix it, or her finding out and doing nothing. But these were your friends, and despite wanting to have control over the situation, wanting to have the chance to break your own heart, you couldn’t lie to them. “I don’t know.” You finally said, “I don’t think so.”

Madison stared at Zoe with a raised brow, the two having a seemingly silent conversation over your head, but Zoe simply nodded and smiled at you, “Ok, that’s all we needed to know.”

They helped you pack, spent every meal with you, and even slept in your room, wanting to see you as much as possible before you left. It was a little strange to you, but you didn’t necessarily mind it, especially once you realized that the more time they spent with you, the less time they had to talk to Cordelia. They planned a movie night send off for you, gathering all the girls in the living room and handing out popcorn and snacks. After the first movie, you went to the kitchen to grab a glass of water, Madison calling out for you.

“I left a twelve pack of coke in the greenhouse,” She yelled, “Can you go grab it? We’re almost out and I’m too lazy to get up.”

You rolled your eyes but complied, shaking your head as you wandered out toward the greenhouse, smiling to yourself for the first time in weeks. With the way the day had gone, it had almost made you feel guilty for leaving, almost made you change your mind, but the second you stepped through the greenhouse door, a familiar pair of eyes reminded you exactly why you were going.

When she glanced up at your smiling face you swore you saw a flash of happiness, but it was gone in a moment, replaced with that same look that had been haunting you for weeks, like you were intruding on something, but you still hadn’t figured out what. You felt your cheeks catch fire as you cleared your throat, not wanting to make this any more uncomfortable than it had to be, “Sorry, I just need to grab something, and I’ll be out of your hair.”

Cordelia nodded, eyebrows furrowing as she glanced back down, and you felt your nerves prickle beneath your skin, anger swirling in your gut at her display of confusion, like she was clueless.

Still, you didn’t want to cause a scene, didn’t need the added weight to carry with you, so you bit your tongue, heading towards the opposite side of the greenhouse once you spotted the red cardboard. You walked back towards the door with your head down, trying to leave the situation as quickly as possible, hand on the knob and pulling, only for the door to not budge, smacking your head on the glass. You stepped back, grabbing the knob and tugging again, but the door still wouldn’t move. You stood there awkwardly for a moment, not wanting to ask for help with something as simple as opening a door, but when you heard the blades of grass shuffle and the hushed whispers, you audibly groaned.

Cordelia glanced up, but only momentarily, “Is there something wrong?”

You sighed, “The door won’t open.”

You glanced back right as Cordelia looked up, her tone airy in that slight tell of annoyance, “Just open it.”

You glared back at her, “You try it then.”

She shook her head, “Just unlock it.”

“I can’t.” You huffed, crossing your arms and tapping your foot.

Cordelia sighed, “I meant…”

“I know what you meant.” You shot back, obviously annoyed. You were doing your best to keep it together, to act cordial, but it was difficult when Cordelia was treating you like a first-year student. “I can’t. My powers have been…” You explained, biting down on a sigh, “Temperamental, lately.”

That seemed to peak the supreme’s interest, her head tilting as she took a step towards you, “Temperamental as in you’re going to rip the door off its hinges?”

You huffed, choosing to stare anywhere else that wasn’t her, “Temperamental as in they don’t work.”

You didn’t think much of it when you heard her start to walk closer, knowing she wanted this conversation to be over just as badly as you did and was probably looking for a way to get you out of there. You didn’t expect to feel her cold fingertips graze your stomach, finding the hem of your shirt and tugging up as you whipped your head towards her, instantly batting her hands away. She glared at you, reaching for the hem once again with one hand, “We might not have gotten all the silver out.”

You grabbed her wrist, halting her movements, and glared back, “I seriously doubt that’s the issue.”

She sighed, pulling her wrist from your hand as she stood up straight, and you swear you saw her roll her eyes, walking towards the locked door and focusing. You could hear the lock click, but when Cordelia went to turn the knob, it wouldn’t move. She tried again, jiggling the knob in case it was stuck, but it still wouldn’t budge, so she resorted to yanking, only to hear Madison call out, “We enchanted the locks, bitch!”

Cordelia stood there for a moment, dumbfounded, before you heard her also groan, and you couldn’t help but snicker at her frustration, at realizing what you had already known. She turned briefly towards the sound, before sighing and returning to her workstation and resuming whatever she was doing.

At some point, you started pacing the length of the room, arms crossed as you waited for the girls to give up, knowing they likely were standing outside and listening to the whole thing. You didn’t know how long it went on for, but your patience was growing thin and your steps were becoming firm, stomping back and forth, back and forth.

“What are you doing?” Cordelia finally sighed, glancing up with her jaw pitched forward, another tell of annoyance.

“Contemplating murder.” You sassed, Cordelia shaking her head as she tried to focus.

“Could you stop?” She asked in that same airy tone, “You’re distracting.”

You chuckled darkly, “What are you going to do? Knock me out again?”

She rested her hands on the table, her face unimpressed and her tone painfully even, “You needed the rest.”

Another snide laugh fell from your lips as you turned on your heel, still pacing as you mumbled, “Don’t tell me what I fucking needed.”

“You were seriously injured…” Cordelia sighed, like she was scolding a child.

You whipped back towards her, eyes blazing as you bit, “I needed you.”

“I was there.” Cordelia said, shaking her head for what felt like the millionth time.

“No, you weren’t.” You shot back as the supreme sighed.

“I’m sorry if I offended you or hurt you…” She began, but you couldn’t stand to hear it.

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Cordelia.” You interjected, Cordelia throwing up her hands.

“What do you want me to say?” She asked, like you were being unreasonable.

You stood your ground, digging your heels in as you fired back, “Something that doesn’t sound like you’re reading from a script would be nice.”

“I’m not!” She yelled, throwing her head back as you resumed pacing once again, trying desperately to keep yourself in check so you wouldn’t explode.

She watched you pace, back and forth, back and forth, waiting for what she knew was coming, what she couldn’t avoid. It took you longer than she expected, a million questions pilling up on the tip of your tongue, one after the other until they all started to slide out like an avalanche.

“Are you still pissed off at me? Is that what this is?”

“No, I’m not.”

You turned on your heel, staring at her once again, your tone exasperated and snappy, “Then what the hell is it? Because you can barely stand to look at me.”

“I am looking at you.”

“No, you aren’t.” You shot back, “You haven’t for weeks, you haven’t talked to me…”

Cordelia sighed, asking again, “What do you want me to say?”

“Something.” You spit out, your volume increasing, “Anything!”

You stared at her for a moment, waiting, but she just stared back, mouth gaping like she couldn’t even begin to fathom how you both got into this situation. You turned away again, biting down on a scream of frustration and resisting the urge to bang your head against the wall until you knocked yourself out. You didn’t know if you wanted to burn the place down or burst into tears, but you could feel the pressure building in your chest, and you were terrified of the outcome. The words fell out of your mouth before you had the time to register them, “Is it because I failed?”

You could hear the confusion in her tone, “What?”

You swallowed down the tears that threatened to fall, cursing yourself as you turned to face her, “I failed. You taught me how to deal with witch hunters. We went over it time and time again, and I still couldn’t…”

She couldn’t stand the sight of your watery eyes, training her gaze on the table as she croaked out, “No, god no…”

“Then what is it?” You asked again, whatever fight you had left in you disappearing, “Because I’ve been wracking my brain for weeks now, looking for some kind of reason...”

You watched her crack, just a bit, nose twitching against the ghost of tears as she shook her head and stuttered, “It’s not your fault, none of it is your fault. It’s…”

She stopped and shook her head, bracing herself on the desk as her chest heaved. You gave her a moment, not wanting to screw anything up when you were so close to getting the answers you had been searching so desperately for, but when she didn’t move to continue, you prompted her, “It’s?”

She looked up at you then, really looked at you, with tears in her eyes, moments away from spilling over, and you stepped toward her on instinct. She looked back down, clearing her throat as she tried to right herself, “It’s not your fault, it’s mine.”

You stepped toward her again, not sure you heard her right, “What?”

“It’s my fault you got hurt.” She clarified, and you shook your head, unable to speak, but she silenced you regardless, “I took the car, I made you walk home. I wasn’t thinking clearly, and you had to pay the price.” You shook your head, still unable to find your voice, but then you heard hers, weak and broken, “And I can’t ever express to you how sorry I am for that.”

“You didn’t know…” You squeaked, “You couldn’t know…”

She shook her head, “It doesn’t matter. It’s my job to protect my girls, all my girls, and I failed. I failed to protect you.”

“You- You saved me.” You stuttered, and the supreme shook her head.

“I fixed the damage I caused.” She sneered, but you knew her tone wasn’t directed at you.

“Delia...” You tried, taking another step towards her, but she held out her hand.

“If I can’t prioritize the safety of the girls over my own emotions, I’m no better than my mother.” She spit between gritted teeth, looking away to wipe at a tear once she saw your hurt expression.

You shook your head, “You could never be your mother.”

She shook her head, but didn’t respond, so you stepped forward, closing the gap between you and reaching for her, but she pushed you away, and that’s when it hit you.

She wasn’t trying to hurt you, she wasn’t punishing you, she was punishing herself. All this time you had been flipping your brain inside out, trying to find the meaning behind every look, every blank expression. But she wasn’t looking at you in disgust, she was in pain.

But the way she was looking at you now, you knew that look, had seen it time and time again, when she wanted something but couldn’t bring herself to ask for it, so you did. “Delia? Kiss me? Please?”

The look morphed as her brows pinched together, her eyes going dim as she shook her head. You begged and pleaded, wanting nothing more than for that look to return, for her to touch you and hold you and for everything to be ok again, but she wouldn’t relent. As soon as you started pleading, she stepped back and looked away, unable to bear the sight of you.

Something finally snapped, and everything you had been pushing away for the past month came rushing in like a tidal wave. You felt it buzzing in your chest, creeping up and up and up, spreading out to your limbs and making your entire body burn. You stalked towards the door, tugging on it again and again and again, bracing your feet on the walls and putting your whole body weight behind it. You looked ridiculous, but you didn’t care, you couldn’t care.

At some point, Cordelia must have turned around, watching you struggle for a moment before she finally spoke, “It won’t open.”

“I don’t care.” You seethed, “It needs to.”

You settled for sitting on the ground, bracing yourself against a table and kicking with your feet, “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“I. Don’t. Care.” You spat, punctuating each word with a kick. When that didn’t seem to work, you settled for throwing your entire body against the door, hoping if you couldn’t break the lock, then you could at least crack the doorframe.

“You are still healing.” Cordelia said, walking towards you and reaching, but you batted her away, “You shouldn’t be doing any strenuous activity for at least another two weeks.”

You finally stopped, your body vibrating as you stared Cordelia down, “I don’t care. I have a plane to catch tomorrow.” Her brow furrowed, and you turned back towards the door, banging on it with your fists, “I have things to do!”

“Where are you going?” Cordelia asked, arms crossing.

You turned back towards her, throwing up your hands, “Home, Cordelia. Where else would I go?”

You watched her face contort, watched the hurt flash across her eyes, and you couldn’t stand it, “Don’t look at me like that.”

Cordelia scoffed, beginning to grow defensive, “Didn’t you want me to look at you?”

“Not like that.” You bit, “You don’t get to look at me like that, like I’m hurting you. Not after what you did.”

“According to you, I didn’t do anything.” She snapped, and you knew she was baiting you now.

“Exactly. You did nothing.” You spit between gritted teeth, whipping around and punching the door as hard as you could.

“You’re bleeding.” Cordelia stated, staring at the smear of blood on the door, then glancing at your busted knuckles.

“Good.” You bit, punching the door again, and a third time for good measure.

“Stop.” She called out sternly, but you were too far gone to listen, hitting, scratching, clawing, and kicking the door repeatedly as you lost it completely, “Stop!”

“I need to get out of here.” You huffed, “I need to go home.”

Your face smacked against the door as you slammed against it with your shoulder, tasting blood as you swallowed down the tears that were forming. Memories ripped through your mind in quick succession, a blow to your face, a kick to your ribs, and then the room constricted in time with your lungs, the walls moving closer, and closer.

You started screaming at some point, you felt it, but you could barely make it out in between the gaps in your heartbeat that was pulsing in your ears. You threw yourself against the door, harder and harder as the tears flowed in lava rivers down your face. Cordelia reached for you, shushing you and grabbing the empty space as you pulled away, screaming about home, how you needed to go home, get on a plane and never come back. How she hurt you and she didn’t care, she never cared, how all of this was a mistake, how you were a mistake.

You felt her hands grab you quickly, spinning you around before you could push her away, and then her lips were on yours and she was kissing you hard, hands pushing and pulling and grabbing anywhere they could reach, leading you away from the door and bumping into anything in your path. She kissed you like she was starving, teeth clashing and biting, nails scratching and pinching and ripping, but you were the same, and now that you had her, you couldn’t let her go. You let every part of her invade your senses, her wet cheeks pressing against your own, her gritty hands and cold rings and the taste of red wine on her tongue.

You didn’t come up for air until she pushed you against the opposite wall, lungs burning and desperate for oxygen, but even as she pulled back, you leaned forward, not wanting to face whatever came next. Your chests heaved into one another as you both stared wide eyed, and in that split second of nothing it all came crashing down. You watched her, watched her watch you, felt her chest push against you and a sob tear out of her throat, and you followed right behind her, closing your eyes as you braced for her to pull away, leaving you cold and empty once again.

Instead, she rested her forehead against yours, whimpering I’m sorry, I’m so sorry and I love you over and over and over again as she pressed her mouth to yours, pushing air into your lungs and sucking it right back out, her hands on your forearms, anchoring you in place. You held onto her hair like a lifeline, your legs giving out from exhaustion and suddenly you both were falling, but she didn’t let go.

You landed on your knees and collapsed into her, her arms wrapping around you as she pulled you to her chest, her lips pressed to your forehead and fingers carding through your hair as she whispered that same mantra, over and over and over again. You didn’t know what she was doing, didn’t know if she knew what she was doing, but with every pull of her fingers it felt like your memories of the past month were being extracted one by one, racing across your vision as the tears gave way to wails of anguish, her own cries increasing in time with yours. You felt it all over again, every ounce of emotion like it was the first time, and you didn’t know how she was doing it, or why.

When it was over, you had nothing left, no tears, no voice, no screams, nothing. You looked up at Cordelia in a daze, but she just smiled sadly back at you. You tried to speak, but your brain was fried, exhaustion quickly taking over your senses. Cordelia looked down at you knowingly, her fingers running down your cheeks as she shushed you, but you shook your head, afraid that if you gave in, you would wake up alone. She shushed you once more, kissing your forehead as she whispered, “I’m not going anywhere, it’s ok.”

[janstevenswife]

forever thankful to all of my tumblr, Ao3, and wattpad writers who make my fantasies a reality in my imaginary world 💋💋

[honeysorwell]

Two hearts can fix everything 

Pairing: Wilhemina Venable x fem!Reader 

Word Count: 1,3k

Tag list: @paulsonix​​ @d14n4ol​​ @harknspet​ @strawberryshorttcakkee and if any of you want to be added just let me know!

Summary: Wilhemina Venable. A strange name, but one that has never caused a stir in the redhead's life. However, when a new coffee shop opens near Kineros Robotics, her unusual name is what brings Wilhemina and Y/N together. Charmed by Y/N's sweet smile, Wilhemina doesn't have the courage to correct the barista when she spells her name wrong every time the redhead orders a coffee and, as time goes by, a feeling grows in Wilhemina's heart and she is tempted to almost add an I and an L to her register.

But one day, this little misunderstanding has to end.

A/N: Hello! i'm back with something new! 

fuck… I miss good fanfiction, so I got inspired and finally fell ok with writing again for this social network after all this time, and nothing better than writing about this pretty redhead who lives in our hearts... 

I have in mind five chapters to this fanfic (to be really specific), but if you all like this I can extend the fanfic to 7 or 8 chapters, just like I did with (a very unprofessional) game changer . 

As I said last time, English is not my first language so something might sound strange, but as always, I did my best.

Anyway this is basically a coffee shop au (mix w 5 times +1) were the cute barista keeps mispelling the other persons name but it's been too long now so the person don't even know how to tell them that without it being 100% awkward BUT happy ending included! And they are cute!! 

Enjoy!

Synopsis of the story + Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

Chapter 1

The first time that it happened, Wilhemina was supposed to go home after a really long day of work, because she couldn't be more irritated on a Monday. Jeff and Mutt started the week smelling like cheap booze and both extremely tipsy, stumbling between the rooms of Kineros Robotics while laughing for no reason at all. Even though the redhead knows that their brains are absolutely useless for anything, she still finds herself getting irritated by their lack of professionalism. And this irritability gives her a headache right away.

The redhead took an antibiotic for the pain, even though her back wasn't bothering her, silently and uselessly wishing that the relaxing medicinal effect would be directed at the throbbing pain in the middle of her forehead. Her primary instinct is to simply get into her car and go home, but as she leaves the building where she works, a sign shines in the sunset across the street and consequently catches Wilhemina's attention.

The sign had been ready for a few days now, full of green plants and eye-catching flowers to the point that the redhead believed it was a flower shop. But now it is clear, thanks to the colorful and festive letters that basically scream “Gardenhouse Coffee”, that it is a coffee shop.

And the redhead simply knows that she will not like it there.

Wilhemina can see, just through the ornate glass of the colored windows, that this is not the kind of place she frequents. It is a mix of shades of green, yellow, purple, pink and blue that contaminate the redhead's vision. She knows that she cannot call it ugly, because even though it is confusing it does not seem ugly. It is just not for her. Definitely not for her.

But when the redhead's headache worsens, as a reminder of her current situation, Wilhemina imagines that, perhaps, there is no harm in visiting the place. After all, the cause of her headache could be the lack of coffee in her day. It made sense since she did not drink coffee in the morning and also did not stop her work for it at any time during the day.

And suddenly, getting rid of this pain quickly turns out so important to Venable that she crosses the street and enters the coffee shop right away.

The inside is not as bad as the facade. There are wooden tables with several plants in different colors, but with green and brown staying everything seems to make more sense. The place is busy, but everyone is already seated at their respective tables and engaged in parallel conversations, and knowing that she doesn't have to wait for anyone to place her order or stand under the gaze of strangers while waiting for a measly coffee makes Wilhemina calmer.

The coffee shop is not as small as Wilhemina imagined looking from the outside, and part of the redhead is surprised to discover that only one woman works there. She wears a light brown apron with some plants printed on it, as well as the name of the coffee shop and a name tag.

Y/N.

The name is written clearly, in a size acceptable to be seen from a distance and with beautiful handwriting. But what really catches Wilhemina's attention is her face. Y/N has bright eyes and a smile that seems to shine in the middle of the coffee shop, as if she were a being oblivious to all the evils of the world. And Wilhemina almost gets scared when her eyes shine with a kind of natural affection directly in her direction.

“Hello, welcome to Gardenhouse Coffee! How can I help you?”, her voice is also soft, full of joy and Wilhemina can’t decide if she likes it or not.

“Just the menu.”, the redhead didn’t mean to, but her voice came out less inviting than she anticipated.

“Here. Just let me know if you need anything, or if something on the menu is confusing.”

“I believe I can find myself on a sheet of paper. Thank you.”

Y/N doesn’t answer her, just nods and focuses her gaze on her own counter, as if looking for something to do besides looking at the redhead. When Venable focuses her gaze on the menu, she notices that the names are absurd. Full of lame puns, or ingredients that are not very inviting to her, and Wilhemina has absolutely no time for any of that, especially when her head starts to hurt again. So, she doesn't bother to look at the entire menu to turn her attention to the waitress in front of her.

"I'll just have a strong coffee, medium size. Black, no sugar or anything else.", as the words slip past her lips, Wilhemina slides the menu to the counter again, and as she does so she can see that Y/N notices that she is not available for any silly conversation in the middle of this sale, and the redhead feels grateful for that since her head continues to hurt more and more with each second.

"It's on its way! What's your name?", the waitress's smile is there again, but the question confuses Wilhemina.

Why does she want Wilhemina's name if she is the only one inn line there waiting for a coffee? And honestly, a simple, regular coffee doesn't take long to make so there's no chance that Y/N will forget what to do or to who it is directed before it is ready.

The redhead thinks about being unpleasant and asking questions in a loud and clear tone for everyone to hear, questioning the attendant's IQ until the incessant smile disappears from her face, but her head is about to throb without pause so Wilhemina just answers quickly before watching Y/N work.

"Venable. Wilhemina Venable."

Maybe it would be better for her back to just sit down, because the idea of ​​the pain in the center of her forehead being accompanied by a much more unpleasant one in the middle of her spine made her saliva taste bitter. But sitting carefully in chairs that seem too low, and then having to get up to leave with the same care, both to avoid hurting herself and to avoid attracting curious looks, is so exhausting that perhaps the first option is actually the best on a comparative scale.

It's official, she prefers to stand and only sit down when she is really comfortable and without pitying looks on her, in her car.

Trying to use the time she has in a profitable way, the redhead takes her wallet out of her bag and then her card, but as soon as she looks up, she sees Y/N writing something down in a cup filled with a dark liquid that Wilhemina could swear is hers.

It really was fast.

The cup is handed to her with a sweet smile, and Wilhemina almost feels obliged to mirror it, even if it was with a slight robotic lift of her lips, but then she sees it.

Wilhielmina.

At another time, Venable would have stared at the striking and beautiful line of the barista's handwriting on the glass, or even the two drawn hearts that accompanied it, but the error in her name screams so loudly in her ears that she can barely think of anything else while staring at the hot drink.

If the redhead were living an ordinary day, her first reaction would be to complain to the person in charge and ask the bright-eyed barista if she was illiterate. After all: an I and an L, really?

But her head hurt so much, her body was really tired and crying out for a shower, and her knees were now tired of supporting her weight.

Wilhemina really just wanted to go home. And so the redhead just grabbed the cup and gave the barista a polite nod before heading out of that rainbow-shaped nightmare, not caring if Y/N had said a word to her.

After all, Wilhemina wouldn't go back there.

The coffee must be bad, so she doesn't care if her name is spelled wrong.

She wouldn't go back there anyway.

[dreamypqulson]

— and i know we got some potential, cause that look you gave me was so gentle

summary: cordelia tutors you when you fall behind in your herbal class unbeknownst to her that the reason your so lost is because you can't take your mind off of her.

pairing: cordelia goode x reader

word count: 1200

a/n: i know i haven’t posted in awhile and i have requests that i have to write but this was just a little scrap that i’m deciding to post so nobody forgets about me! :)

It was awful, really. And you felt bad for it. For wasting her time. This is not going to help. If you needed some extra help in your herbal class, then you need assistance from Zoe, or Queenie, or Myrtle, someone who is not this woman.

It was comical, and you almost laughed right in her face when she ask you if you wanted her to tutor you later in the evening. You didn't need help. You were a smart and powerful which. You just needed her out of you head. There was too much of her to even pay attention to the task at hand.

And it hurt too. There was no denying that. With the many obvious signs that she was helplessly in love with you, you ignored them all. She's the supreme for god sakes. She was so close yet felt so out of your reach.

You were just wasting time in this goddamn greenhouse. Every minute with her counts, but right now, you were just staring straight at the wall behind her, daydreaming of what you could be doing instead. What— no, who you could be kissing and showing you truth to.

You hear her snapping and it pulls you out of your deep trances. It's honey brown eyes and hair golden in the moonlight that's shining through the roof window that you notice first. "Are you even listening?" She doesn't sound annoyed, but she's clearly had enough of this. All this. What even is this?

"I'm sorry, Miss Cordelia. I am, I just—"

"You don't have to call me that, ya know." It hurts too much to not call you it. If you call her Cordelia then it seems to real. She's not your mentor, not your supreme, she's Cordelia. And so you stand behind that Miss Cordelia barrier that you build. The one that Cordelia tries so hard to break down.

"I know." As you stare into her eyes so warm that you feel as though your melting, as they soften as they stare back at you, she cups you heated cheeks. You know that she feels how hot they are, you know that she knows what is going on with you, but still, she asks,

"What's really going on? You're one of my strongest witches, sweetie."

You truly want to tell her that she's so distracting because you've unwillingly fell in love with her. Because, then, maybe you'll be able to pay better attention in class. But instead you tell her, "I just haven't been sleeping right," sugarcoating your love for her and letting it melt in your mouth.

It's not a complete lie; because you cannot sleep when she walks by your room to assure that you are safe in bed. You cannot sleep when you've see her only an hour before your rest in a simple pajama slip. Milky silk and see-through if it were any thinner.

"We should make you a sleeping potion then." She knows your lying, but she is not going to force you to be honest. That's not what she is here for. She just wants you to be ready. She would wait forever for you to tell her how you feel.

And then she's gathering the ingredients. Patting around the greenhouse as soft as a spring day, and you have to look to see if she is even walking. Look to see that she's not flying around instead of walking like an angel that you could mistake her to be.

She stands behind you and her arms are locking you in between the table and her body. She's wearing a nightgown like every other night and you can feel her breasts press against your back. Your breath hitches and you think she notices because she asks if you're okay. You nod, because you cannot speak, you cannot do anything besides stand there as if you were built with cement.

Her blonde hair falls against your shoulder and you get a strong whiff of her lavender shampoo. She smells so sweet and you feel like you are being embraced by a fresh pastry.

"Do you remember one of the key ingredients for our sleeping potion?" She tests you, because she knows that the day she taught this, her shirt seemed to be just a little shorter cut than usual. She knows you weren't paying attention to sleep and potions and herbs that day.

"Um...," you feel so pathetic for not knowing. So useless. "No, not really."

She smiles still. You can hear it in her voice, "That's just alright. Chamomile is one of the main ingredients." She speaks softly and begins grinding the chamomile into the mixture. Her freckled arms rub against yours with each movement. Bare skin against bare, and you yearn for more.

These emotions are too strong for your body to handle. They cannot fit as you are too much already filled with Cordelia. You are going to explode if you don't let it out somehow. And so you stand there and permit silent tears to roll down your face.

You assume that Cordelia won't notice, but a warm tear ends up landing on her hand and she cannot stand there and pretend that it didn't happen. She doesn't want to make you uncomfortable, but the only way she knows to make everything better is to be upfront and loving.

She grabs your waist, gently, and turns your body so your facing her now. It's so close; you can feel her soft breath against your face and her legs are practically intertwined with yours. "I don't want you to lie to me anymore," she doesn't sound angry still, just so desperate. And you know you look a mess right now but she thinks you're so pretty.

"I don't think I know how to not do that," more tears fall down. You are so afraid because you know that it's too far this time. There is no going back to what you once were with Cordelia just an hour before this.

"Show me?"

Your trembling hands cup her cheeks this time, smooth beneath your palm. You don't want to pull her forward, you need her to show you that she isn't the supreme right now. You always need her.

"It's okay," she merely whispers, nods, and smiles softly. And you forget about you fears, about the sugarcoated emotions on your tongue. You lean forward and everything's so fuzzy and blurry around you; like a fever dream, but it's oh so real.

She moans into your mouth. She sounds so pretty against you. It's the perfect combination of her vanilla chapstick and your strawberry one to create the sweetest taste.

Her hands are still on your waist and she pulls back, but only her lips so she can rest her forehead against yours. "Not so scary, right?"

"Well i'm scared that I just fucked everything up."

She shakes her head and smiles delicately at you. "You didn't fuck anything up. I would've been out the door by now." Your laugh and hers are a soft melody that echo against the four walls of the greenhouse. She grabs your hands and tangles her slim fingers with yours. "I. love. you."

"Promise me that it's what you want." You still can't believe it. But you can't have it if it's not real.

"It's what I always wanted. What I wanted when I met you. What I want, still, now."

"Then you should know that I always wanted it. I love you too. So much."

taglist: @loverofallthingssarah @goodeday2u @lanawinters-ily @strawberryshorttcakkee @sapphicforsarahh @ahsfan05 @stayevildarling @isle-of-earle @cordithatgurl @mistysswampmud @billiedeansbitch @billiedeanspearls @cigaretteology @favoriteredhead @lovingsarah @cordeliass @citizenoftheworld-stuff-blog @multi-royalty-main

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[aboutcustardcreams]

Can't hide you the truth

Wilhemina Venable x reader

I've got no warnings for this os, it's essentially fluff and a bit silly. I wrote it down using these two prompts "Please, stay on the phone with me." & "Stop telling me you're fine." I've been watching a lot of Modern Family recently, so it's not exactly angsty as one would expect. I hope it's decent anyway. Lemme know <3

It was the third time that I tried to reach out to her, but no answer. I know I shouldn't worry, but it wasn't like her to avoid my calls, especially if insistent. I start thinking about every little scenarios, from the worst to the least worst, with my mind focusing on the first ones obviously. What if she isn't feeling well? Maybe I did something bad without noticing? Could be? I quickly check the date on my phone, think a couple of seconds and no, it wasn't neither our anniversary nor any other special date worth remembering. I squint my eyes in thought. What was happening, then?

I tighten my grip on the wheel and let out a long sigh. On top of all of this, I'm stuck in the traffic, and visibility is partially limited due to the light haze covering the surroundings. I groan, after waiting a couple of extra minutes, "Siri, call Mina, again." I'd have tried to reach out to her on and on if I had to. I silently beg that she answers me, counting each second passing inside my head. In the meantime, I turn on the heating, because my fingers are getting cold due to their stillness on the wheel.

Finally, she answers. When I hear her voice, murmuring a soft "hi, little one", I let out a long breath, I didn't know I was holding. "Mina, hi! I've tried calling you for a while, is everything okay?", I wonder aloud, "Also, I'm stuck in traffic, " I make a face, "I go at a snail's pace if you're wondering and-", I stop a moment, realizing that, as per usual, I'm speaking on and on without giving my girlfriend the opportunity to answer any of my questions. I hear a faint chuckle from her part, when I mutter a faint, "Sorry."

"I was taking a shower, sweetheart, that's why I didn't answer," I frown at the sound of her voice, that appears to be a bit off, tired maybe... but also, kind of restrained. Normally she would tease me, use one of her sarcastic jokes to tell me how silly I am, but none today. "Are you sure it's just that?" It's not that I don't believe her. On the contrary, it's essentially because I do, that I believe there is more to it she isn't saying. Plus, she normally waits for me to take a shower, because it's our thing. One of the moments we share to enjoy the intimacy of one another. Each and every time she reminds me how much she loves to lather and rinse my hair, occasionally leaving sloppy kisses here and there on my skin. Her hands make my stomach flip and my head fly into outer space.

I avert my gaze from the street ahead of me to the phone, tempted to activate the camera, when she hums without giving me a verbal response. "Wilhemina...", I insist, in a sing song tone. She knows that when I use her full name, I'm either concerned or mad. I hope she knows it's not the latter. "Y/n...", she mimics my tone, probably wriggling her eyebrows too. I can't immediately tell if it's an attempt to take the edge off or not. Truth is, she gets particularly annoyed when I insist on asking her how she feels. I've learned to know that the last thing she wants is to feel a burden to me. It doesn't matter how many times I tell her she could never be, that my asking is simply a way to show her I love her. Yet it still doesn't stick in that stubborn head of hers for some reason.

"We have been on the phone for ten minutes and you haven't made any sexual innuendo yet," I point out. I start worrying for real, when she doesn't even chuckle at that. Perhaps, she has a bad back pain? Or maybe those dickheads at work did something bad to her? I need answers or I'll go crazy, "Little one, how many times do I have to tell you I'm fine to make you believe it?", I can tell she is trying to use a more cheerful tone, but it breaks my heart that after all this time she still tries to hide from me. I sigh tiredly, as i slowly massage the root of my nose, "we can continue for all the time you want, or you can just tell me the truth," considering I move at the pace of an ant carrying ten thousand times its weight, I let my guard down and rest my chin over my  arm.

I don't hear her tapping her cane, so I suppose she is sitting somewhere, or maybe she is lying down. She normally would have after an answer like that, but purposefully avoids what I just said, to ask, "Are you still long away? Where are you precisely?", her voice seems to crack a bit when she pronounces her second question. Or maybe it's only my imagination considering she insists on saying she is fine. I blink softly, still taking a mental note on that. "Uhm," I look around me, before answering, "I'm pretty close. If it wasn't for this traffic, I'd be there in five minutes at max. I just passed the florist on the 14th street, " I inform her and she hums. I can almost hear her breathing through the phone. It's like she is clinging to it, keeping it super close to her ear. I can almost see her frowning, her slow blinking.

If the camera was on, I'm sure I'd recognize it in a split second. "Mina...", I voice out softly, "are you in pain, love?", she takes a while to respond, giving me the further proof I didn't need. Yet, she decides to keep lying to me. "No, of course not, why would you think that?"she says flatly. As she speaks I shake my head in slow motion, without beliving a single word that is coming out of her. "Babe...", a bitter smile cracks my lips. I'm hurt honestly, but I push past that pain to focus on hers, "I told you, I'm-", "Stop telling me you're fine." I interrupt her, my voice laced with urgency and deep care. I'm pretty sure she's just rolled her eyes at me now, which puts a brief smile on my face. Wilhemina can be the most stubborn woman in the whole world, when she tries.

I lost count of all the times I reminded her that hiding, lying, pretending serve no good in a committed relationship like ours. It's okay to ask for help. It's okay to be in pain and tell your girlfriend about it. There is no shame in it, but Wilhemina is still so proud to let go to such vulnerabilities without a little fight. "Do you want me to lie to you?", I scoff and say, "You're already doing that, that's why I'd like you to stop," I grin softly, when I hear her groan on the other side of the phone.

Without noticing the car before me has come to an halt. I almost bump into it, but I manage to help it by hitting the brake by force the very last minute. My car boings off a bit and as consequence I bounce on the seat, "Woah, shit!", I curse under my breath, but loud enough for Wilhemina to hear. "Y/n? What happened?", she questions, her voice an octave higher, "Are you alright?", I can't help but melt at her caring tone, "Yeah, all good, still alive unluckily for ya, " a hint of a smile graces upon my lips, when she scoffs and calls me imprudent for getting distracted while driving.

I know how much she hates it when I multitask while on the road, but in my defense, she is giving me enough reason to worry about her with all those unnecessary mysteries. "You should keep your eyes on the street, little one. We can talk once-" I don't let her finish, letting out a loud and urgent, "No!", instead. I sigh and move my finger over my smartphone to activate the camera. When she can see me but in return I'm still facing a black screen, I snort again, "I mean it- I will not let you change the topic, Mina," nothing changes yet. "Can I see my girlfriend or should I speak to a black screen?", I pout and she hums in thought, "Come on!", I insist.

"I'd very much prefer you focused on driving, little one," she says as I hear her sigh, and slowly shift position. Something tells me she was lying down by the sound of the sheets moving underneath her. Now she is sitting up, I'm sure, "Please, stay on the phone with me," I whine, displaying my infallible, fine as hell, pickle lips. I hear a faint chuckle from her. She is probably shaking her head too. I'm dying to kiss that face once I'm back home, "Besides, I can multitask," I add to prove my point. I hear her click her tongue in response, a clear sign she doesn't agree with me, "Like that time you tried to make french toasts and record the episodes of 'Orange is the new Black'?", she teases and I gasp in shock. Each and every time, she uses that story against me to prove a point. "Stop using that story! It's as old as the birth of Rome!"

She chuckles, "It doesn't make it less efficient, though," she retorts making me snort, "If you don't turn on the camera right now I'll scream," I'm playing all the cards at my disposal now, and this one beyond my wild expectations works, "Fine! I wouldn't want to arrange your funeral for bumping into a car that goes about eight miles per hour," I squint my eyes towards her and fake a chuckle. When I finally see her, a sense of guilt rushes over me. She looks... exhausted. Her soft red locks, loose on the shoulders, are still partially damp from the shower. Her eyes looks weary, not fully open either, probably because they carry a mild headache along with the back pain. Her lips, however, are stretched in a placid smile. It feels like she is trying to force some vibrancy out of her. But she doesn't have to, especially when she isn't in the mood. I wish she knew.

"It's the back, isn't it?", I say tentatively and she simply gives me a nod of her head. "m' sorry. I'm almost there, alright?", she cracks a smile, ready to diminish her pain, but I hear none of that, "I'll take care of dinner when I come back. Lie down on the left side, I remember it's the position that is most comfortable to you, then uhm— medicine's in my bedside drawer," I continue, remembering to having put a tin of pills there. She raises an eyebrow at that, "Should I run to the drugstore to get you anything else?", if it wasn't for Wilhemina, I'd probably never stop rambling, especially when it comes to her, "Y/n, for the love of God, just relax," there is some strictness in her tone, that makes me obey like a puppy to her owner.

"I'm a big girl. I don't need a babysitter doing things for me," I know she doesn't mean to be harsh with me. It's the pain speaking for her. Instead of answering to the provocation, I simply smile at her, "Oh I know, you certainly don't need a babysitter, but I do, look--" I point out at the greenish spot on my once white and immaculate blouse, "I stained it with the avocado cream," I feel like coming back to life when her eyes soften and she lets out a quiet, low chuckle, while shaking her head, "Why am I not surprised?", she hums amusedly, and I stick my tongue out at her in response. "Have you been working like that all day long?", she wonders in disbelief, while I nod solemnly, "Yep, ma'am," I say, popping the "p" childishly, "Add the laundry to the list of things you have to do once you come back," she teases and I giggle softly, "Fist things first," I say, with a wink.

"Oh, I wonder what those would be?", I pretend to think a couple of seconds, before saying, "Kissing my girlfriend for a start, brushing her hair, giving her a massage, make her some tea, kissing her again--", Mina hardly stifles a laugh and says, "Alright, fine, I got it. Get your ass over here, I've waited long enough," I nibble on my bottom lip as I recognize the familiar twinkle in her eyes. "Oh, my, my, looks like I've arrived," I chant and before we know it I find myself stopping the car right in front of our house. She smiles and a light blush comes coloring her cheeks, "At last," she mutters, looking at me with nothing but pure love in the eyes.

[iwantscarlettandlizzie]