#Coco St. Pierre Vanderbilt

[phantomstatistician]

Fandom: American Horror Story

Sample Size: 5,012 stories

Source: AO3

[dreamypqulson]

cordelia always says “i love you” to all of her girls every night before bed.

this is me crying over this witchy family again.

[ihearth0rror]

i find it very cute that bc mallory needed to stay conscious during the apocalypse to let her powers grow

but coco stayed with mallory cause coco’s powers is sensing harm/risk so basically they could protect each other from m*chael and other stuff at the outpost

c:

[spockvarietyhour]

[originalwitchedits]

COCO ST. PIERRE VANDERBILT X MALLORY (AMERICAN HORROR STORY)

[supercoolfelluh]

post-apocalypse headcanons pt 2!

coco st pierre vanderbilt

-she has the vibe where she uses a lot humor to cope with trauma, so she tells a lot of jokes (some childish, some dark, depending on who she's talking to), but doesn't exactly know how to show affection. her parents are super rich, so they probably didn't spend a lot of time with her and had family bonding time, so she instead, she labels the amount of calories per serving on every single snack, and labels every single compound just in case the nutritional label doesn't show

-as much as coco bickers with madison, they were somewhat nice to each other, and would give each other presents (mainly to show off their money). coco would usually buy expensive designer clothes or body washes/lotions while madi buys designer makeup and sex toys just to tease (coco would first seem disgusted but secretly takes some of them...)

-coco and mallory did everything together, and i mean EVERYTHING. they slept in the same bed, they ate meals together, they went to class together, hell, they accompanied each other to the bathroom. they never left each others side. eventually, they labeled one of their lunches as a date, and kept doing that until they had an actual confession and ended up having sex

-coco barely remembers anything of the alternate timeline, but knows that she really hurt mallory and practically spoils her. and, you know... apology sex. ya know

mallory

-she remembers everything. she fucking hates it. but she manages

-when she has nightmares or anything of the sort, coco always kisses her face to ground her (omg), and makes her hot cocoa, and jokes abt the name

-loves reading books and since shes the next supreme, she read a lot of autobiographies of past supremes and other witchy studies (EXACTLY like zoes reading)

-mal spends a lot of time with cordy, mainly because cordy is more of a mom to her than her actual mom. they do groceries together (misty and coco tag along ofc), they go on late night walks together, and all the stuff that moms are supposed to do

queenie

-cordy never actually knew why queenie left the coven, so when she found out after the apocalypse, she felt super bad. she ended up surprised queenie with a whole group of new witch students who were black, and thats how queenie was convinced into fully rejoining the coven

-queenie being on the council of witchcraft gives her way too much power, but she uses it for good. she once offered making covens open to all genders, especially because a lot of the "girls" being sent to robichaux were under the trans umbrella. even though her offer was declined, cordy had the academy renovated and made genderneutral bathrooms everywhere, and got queenie the title of "Head of Minorities in Witchcraft". queenie teaches classes on both the seven wonders and voodoo for those who are interested

-along with mal, queenie remembers all of the alternate timeline. queenie also passionately hates lady gaga's music because the voice reminds her of the countess (HA)

-is simply a queen as she has been for the entirety of her life

send me requests!

[femori]

new tags 2

[ask-michael-langdon]

What’s your biggest date dealbreaker?

I'm not one with severe preference, but I despise anyone with the personality of that Coco St. Pierre Vanderbilt woman. I would develop a headache five minutes into the wine.

[nephilimsss]

𝘁𝗼𝗼 𝗯𝗮𝗱, 𝘀𝗼 𝘀𝗮𝗱 ! michael langdon

PAIRING ➨ michael langdon x brides of dracula inspired ocs GENRE ➨ fiction SUMMARY ➨ shortly after the apocalypse happens, survivors go into hiding in outposts that are set up around the world. outpost 3, however, doesn't realize that three of the people that have taken up residence in their walls are vampires, feeding on the others whilst they are asleep. all they know is that they are finding bite marks on them, and have little to no recollection as to how they are getting them. when michael langdon makes his way into outpost 3, the vampires are keen on making him the fourth in the relationship. WARNINGS ➨ maybe some smut in later chapters, death, manipulation, vampires, blood, it's michael, so there might be a few satanic references, though i am not one myself, the end of the world. the title is taken from the song IYDKMGTHTKY (gimme that) by type o negative, but it's mostly due to the vibes of the song. it's dark, sexy, and it always reminds of michael and the brides of dracula from van helsing (2004). MAIN MASTERLIST SERIES MASTERLIST

the voice of coco st. pierre vanderbilt was annoying, to say the least. to aleera, marishka, and verona, it was worse than nails on a chalkboard, which was surprising because they had a heightened sense of hearing than the rest of the residents of the outpost they stayed in. whenever she began complaining, they would find a way to sneak out of the room she was in, going back into the room they shared against venable's wishes. "why can they wear that," coco points an accusing finger towards the three vampires standing together in the corner of the room, "and we have to wear this? it's not fucking fair!"

"aw," marishka placed her hands on her knees, which were clothed with the thin white fabric which shone brightly with small encrusted diamond dust, and tutted her tongue. "too bad. so sad!" she flashed her brilliant teeth, which, for some reason, always put coco on edge. she hated whenever the three women showed their pearly white teeth, something about the action seemed dangerous and wrecked her nerves. marishka was the only one of the three to wear pants, the other two opting for dresses of the same fabric and edging, the same concepts but different designs being put to good use.

coco never had clothing like that before the nuclear apocalypse. she crossed her arms, wishing she had spent her money beforehand to create something as beautiful as the three women were wearing.

venable stayed quiet. she never knew why she allowed the women to wear their own clothes instead of the purple dresses every woman was required to wear here in outpost three. something about them had set her on edge, and she never outright said anything to them about breaking the rules. yes, she hated the fact that they were not following her rules or the dress code she had put in place, but she did not dare say so. she just allowed her disgust show on her face, and that was all. she could not bear to go against them, for whatever reason. coco opened her mouth to say something snarky, but seeing aleera, standing to the right of marishka, made her snap her mouth shut and simply say a small, "hmph" while crossing her arms and looking toward the fireplace. no one dared to answer coco's question. they were all uneasy, being watched by the three women, which they had little knowledge as to why, and the news that had come to them that morning, that the perimeter had been breached.

who came close to the outpost? what did they want? were they inside the building now? here to hurt any of them if they were to come out any day soon?

everyone sat in silence for the emergency meeting venable had called for, the purples, the greys, all sitting or standing as they waited for any word. footfalls in the distance make them raise their heads, wondering who had been missing from the room, and verona, the vampiress with the dark hair, raised her head as she breathed in deeply. a smell of sulfur and death began coming closer to the dining room, a smell she hadn't come from anyone else but her and her wives. aleera grabbed onto verona's sleeve, looking excited at what's to come. what other unimaginable creature of the dark had come to the outpost? this one with the smell of death and sulfur, all but missing the scent of iron and blood that they carried themselves? marishka merely stared at the entryway, brown eyes gauging at whoever was going to come through them.

a man with long, straight blonde hair appears, hands behind his back as he wears a look that screams he is unimpressed. the smell became stronger once he stepped in, and the vampiresses stared down at his clothing. expensive fine black fabric covered him from head to toe. a long trenchcoat went down to his claves, his shirt made of silk and his shoes of expensive black leather. the inner corners of his eyes had been highlighted with a red eyeshadow, and the clear blue eyes that adorned his fine face swept across the room.

they fell on venable, and as he walked along the right side of the room when he smelled blood and death to his right, he ripped his vision away from the cane-using woman at the head of the table. they landed, instead, on the vampiresses who stared at him with wonder rather than the fear the others were staring at him with. they flashed smiles at him, grasping onto each other's sleeves as they continued to gauge him. like him, they were something other than human.

he continued his walk and looked away from them once he reached the spot venable stood in. he stopped an inch away from her, his face coming near her cheek as he stared her down, daring her to do anything other than move. venable turned to face him with a proud smile, but his glare upon her was unnerving, forcing her to look down and walk away, her cane echoing in the silent room.

"my name is langdon and i represent the cooperative," he began, sweeping his eyes across the faces that stared back at him. fear, determination, curiosity, and with the three curiosities standing in the corner, excitement. "i won't sugarcoat the situation. humanity is on the brink of failure." one of the women giggled, covering her smile with her hand. "my arrival here was crucial to the survival of civilized life on earth. the three other compounds - in syracuse, new york, beckley, west virginia, and san angelo, texas - have been overrun and destroyed." marishka shook aleera's shoulder as she continued to giggle uncontrollably. mr. gallant scoffed and looked back at them, angry that they were finding the doom of humanity hilarious.

"we've had no contact from the six international outposts, but we are assuming that they, too, have been eliminated."

"what happened to the people inside?" one of the men asked.

"massacred," michael says the word as if were a love letter, and tilts his head to the right as he looks down at gallant's grandmother. she looks uneasy, happy that she was one of the few that was still alive here in the outpost. "the same fate that will befall almost all of you."

"almost alll?" mallory can't keep her mouth shut, standing in the back by the entryway, her glasses reflecting the light of the fire behind michael's body.

michael sighs, hating that he was being interrupted again. "in the knowledge that this very moment might occur, we built a failsafe - the sanctuary." he brings his arms from behind his back and large rings, with what looked to be onyx stones set into them, glittered in the firelight.

"the sanctuary?" venora rolled her eyes at coco.

"the sanctuary is unique," michael was beginning to get angry at the people of the outpost, but was still in surprise of the same three standing women. "it has certain security measures that will prevent overrun."

"excuse me, sir, what measures?" ms. mead interrupts, but michael could not be angry at her. "why weren't we given them?"

"that's classified," he waves her off, however, having to keep up pretenses that he did not know her. "all that matters is that the sanctuary will. . . survive so that the people populating it will survive, so humanity will survive."

"who are the people who are populating it?"

"also classified," michael points both pointer fingers in his hands. "however. . . i have been sent to determine if any of you are worthy and fit to join us." murmuring begins to come across the room, people wondering who will go and who will stay. "the cooperative has developed a particular and rigorous question technique we like to call. . . cooperating." he shifts his focus to the wives. "i will then use the information gained to determine if you belong."

"what is this, the hunger games?" coco exclaims, hating over the fact that they were being plucked as if prize horses in a show. "this is bullshit. i paid my way in here, and that is the only cooperating i plan on doing."

"that's no longer a viable option, coco," the accented voice of marishka forces everyone to look at her. "the governments are all over with. banks, homes, and important places that were once the standpoint of our lives are gone. you, like everyone else who survived the nuclear fallout, are broke. money is no longer an influential power. everyone here is starving, the people still outside are starving. your best bet is to give food away for your spot, but oh!" she gasps, looking over to verona, placing a hand over her heart. "we have none. we are down to half a gelatinous cube a day, and you have zero control over it. so you, like everyone else here, are going to get questioned, and you will wait in line for your answer!" her eyes flashed, and a different look came over them. instead of the brown they once were, they became a white iris with a ring of red and black covering part of the sclera.

[imaginesmultifandoms]

Currently accepting requests from prompt lists and just general requests for:

Melissa Schemmenti

Chessy (possibly, I rewatch Parent Trap a lot)

Kit Voss

Cordelia Goode

Tammy (Oceans 8)

Ally Mayfair Richards

Lana Winters

Coco St. Pierre Vanderbilt

Arthur Mills (King Arthur from OUAT) - quite possibly the only man who will be accepted.

Amelia Mills (my oc)

This list isn’t just for x reader.

Kit x Reader, Melissa x reader, Cordelia x Reader.

Priority to: Melissa, Chessy, Kit, Arthur. Possibly also to Coco and Cordelia.

Arthur x reader is possibly not happening. I’d love to touch on my crossover BROTP with him in it. And some crossover OTPs.

[dreamypqulson]

— sleepover shenanigans

requested by @harmoncoven: could you maybe write something about the coven deciding to have a sleepover and cordelia is trying to keep is sane, but it's very difficult when you have multiple teenage girls and fleetwood mac obsessed swamp witch on your hands.

pairing: ahs coven witches

a/n: i hope this is good! i feel like i’m so bad at writing more than two people at once😭

word count: 1400

The sun was beginning to set on the horizon, casting a dark overview on the academy. The living room was aglow with many candles and a couple of lamps. Cordelia, however, fearlessly walked through the dark hallways to make sure that each and every window and door was locked. She still got anxious over things like that.

She pattered back into the living room with her light steps where her girls had gathered. They were all collecting themselves under thick blankets on the couch. Misty made sure to save her girlfriend a spot right next to her, leaving such little room so she had to cuddle her. As if they wouldn't either way.

"I think we should watch a' Stevie concert," Misty suggested, shrugging her shoulders like everyone was going to agree with her. However, all at once, the girls attacked her.

"Absolutely not. Are you kidding me right now? Do you want me to bash my head against the tv? You're lucky I haven't smashed your goddamn record player," Madison said, voice sounded almost offended at Misty's suggestion.

“Madison!” Zoe exclaimed. She was working with Madison on her temper ever since the movie stars return from hell.

Misty say up and straightened her postured, converting herself into attack mode like a wild animal. "Ya know, I can bash ya-"

"Girls," Cordelia declared at once, voice louder than all in the room. She wasn't angry, but just puzzled as to why she agreed to this. They all slept in the same house anyways. Why did they need a sleepover. "Next person who argues is going straight to bed. In their own bedroom."

Madison rolled her eyes, huffing. Cordelia took her seat beside Misty, covering herself in the other half of the blanket that they shared. "Hi there, darlin," Misty says, and drapes an arm around Cordelia's body for her to snuggle closer. Her body language completely changing at the presence of her girlfriend. She can hear Madison pretending to gag in the background, but she doesn’t entirely care.

Eventually, they all settle on a movie. Considering the time of year, they decide to play a horror movie. Something that none of the girls are able to handle. Not even Cordelia, but she would never admit it. She has to be the strong one here.

Cordelia flicked her wrists and the room darkened, only lit with a few candles as the opening credits began to roll. Immediately, they all regretted their movie choice as adrenaline filled them up.

Throughout the movie, everyone learned that Madison had been the weakest one, yelping and jumping up out of the seat to the point that her blanket was completely flung across the room. And halfway through, they all eventually decided to turn it off.

"How about we play a game to get that out of our heads," Cordelia suggested, mostly to Madison who was still trembling. The others girl gave it their all not to laugh at Madison. They didn't want to ruin the night by starting another fight.

"Truth or dare!" Mallory pipped in. She didn't seemed too fazed by the movie. But she had also seen some shit in her life already.

They all sat in a small circle, "I'm going first. Truth or dare, swampy." Madison grinned at Misty. She was up to no good. All of them were aware, so the swamp witch picked the somewhat safest option. Truth.

"Is it true that Cordelia calls you-"

"Appropriate Madison! Please," The supreme cut in before Madison could even finish her sentence. She rolled her eyes but got an absolute kick out of Misty's flushed cheeks and sudden inability to keep eye contact with everyone.

"Fine. Is it true that you were in a relationship with one of your alligators before Cordy?" Cordelia's face fell into her hands, making a loud slapping sound. Madison was never going to get it right.

"Ha-Ha, Madi. Is it true that ya Zoe's little puppy?" Misty couldn't lie, she was very clingy with Cordelia herself. However, she knew that Madison had such a hard interior that it was extremely embarrassing for Madison.

Misty mouthed a quick 'sorry' to Zoe, but the brunette witch didn't seem to mind too much. She tried to talk Madison out of bullying Misty many times before, but it never seemed to work. However, they really did care about each other, even if Madison would never admit it.

"Moving on," Cordelia sighed. Just by Madison's glare at the swamp witch, she knew shit would go down if she didn't change the subject. "How about, Mallory, you go?"

Mallory; her precious child. She saw all of her girls as daughters -besides Misty- and loved them all equally. However, Mallory was the only one who seemed to never cause chaos.

"Sure! Truth or dare, Coco?"

The bright blonde witch sat up straight, beaming widely at being picked. "Dare!"

Mallory sat there momentarily, pondering, before she eventually came up with something, "I dare you to read out loud the last text you sent."

"Oh god Mal!" The calorie counting witch pulled out her phone and her entire face cringed. "Do you think Cordelia will notice that we are all high?"

“What?” Cordelia raised her eyebrows, voice echoing in the room that went quiet. “When was that,” she asked, trying to keep her composure.

“Two days ago…”

Cordelia pondered for a moment, going over her weeks schedule in her head. When she figured it out, her head slammed into her hand for what must’ve been the millionth time that night. “At our open house. You girls were high at our open house?!”

“You can’t get mad at us for something that already happened!”

“Wanna make a bet?”

“Okay, okay,” Misty said. She placed her hand on Cordelia’s thigh to calm her down. The supreme had rules, simple rules. She always let the girls do what they wanted, mostly. But they never seemed to follow her rules. “Let’s just move on, alright?”

The following hour consisted of their truth or dare game. Some things being revealed to Cordelia that her veins were practically popping out from, and others being dared to do things that they’ll regret in the morning.

Once the clock struck one, they all began to get tired. Of course, Cordelia got lucky enough to steal the couch as her bed for the night. The others girls got to sleep on a bunch of blankets together on the floor. However, Misty used Cordelia as her bed, per usual.

“Goodnight. Love you, honey,” Cordelia whispered, chucking at the grown woman cuddling atop of her. She kissed the top of her head, covered in big blonde curls.

“Love ya too, darlin.”

The girls on the floor, however, all cuddled close as the dark room had reminded them of the horror movie from earlier that night. The game may have distracted them, but didn’t make them forget.

“Goodnight girls, love you’s,” Cordelia tried to contain her laugh at the fact that powerful witches were terrified of a horror movie.

They all uttered their goodnights to Cordelia and each other, however, not one of them moving a single muscle to face who they had spoken to.

When Cordelia flicked her wrists, lights dimmed near to complete darkness besides the moonlight seeping through the curtains. Multiple patters of silence passed before a shuffling noise right outside the big window. Clearly an animal, most likely a squirrel by it’s speed and sound.

Nevertheless, the girls on the floor all gasped and rushed towards the couch. “What the fuck was that?” Madison asked. For once, she let her guard down and was clinging onto a scared Zoe for dear life.

“It was an animal,” Cordelia chuckled. Misty was halfway to sleep, unbothered by the situation.

“No! That could not have been an animal. Remember in the movie—” Zoe got cut short by her own and the other girls screams when they heard it once more.

They all jumped onto the couch, not caring that they were completely crushing Cordelia and Misty. In that moment, Cordelia now understood why Fiona never let them do fun things like this. Nevertheless, this wasn’t going to be the last sleepover. And she hated herself for her inability to say no to her girls.

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

message me or send an ask to be added to my taglist!

[bonnieblue727]

The End S08E01

In the near future, nuclear missiles destroy the world and start a nuclear winter. Thanks to her family's private plane, billionaire socialite Coco St. Pierre Vanderbilt manages to escape the destruction of Los Angeles with her assistant Mallory, her hairdresser Mr. Gallant, and his grandmother, Evie.

Two of the selected, Timothy and Emily, are sent to Outpost 3, an underground base led by Ms. Wilhemina Venable and her assistant Ms. Mead. There, they are reunited with other survivors, including Coco, Mallory, Mr. Gallant, and Evie. Life at the Outpost includes strict rules and severe punishments.

A man from the Cooperative, Michael Langdon, arrives and announces that he will judge who deserves to be truly saved.

[originalwitchedits]

COCO ST. PIERRE VANDERBILT (AMERICAN HORROR STORY)

[sheloooveswomen]

ahs apocalypse behind the scenes

[mistydear]

if i had your love, that'd be enough

cordelia x reader

summary: classic reader is drunk and confesses their feelings

w/c: 6k

notes: gender neutral pronouns for reader, minor talk of dysphoria and binding, alcohol, swearing, title from sunshine sometimes by bedouine

“I’m not fucking wearing that,” you say when Madison holds up the skimpiest, black sequined dress you’ve ever seen.

“Yes, you are, bitch,” she shoots back, tossing it at you. Reluctantly, you catch it and then drop it as pointedly as you can, letting it crumple on the wood floor of her and Zoe's bedroom. You’ve only barely agreed to go out tonight, so wearing a dress is way past your emotional limit.

“Bitch is feminine, dumbass,” Zoe snaps at Madison from her bed, her arms crossed over her chest. She, Madison, and Coco are already dressed and ready, and Queenie and Mallory are meeting them downstairs in 15 minutes which—according to Madison—is barely enough time to get you spruced and presentable for the club.

“Bitch is gender neutral,” she scoffs back bitterly, and Coco looks up from her phone next to Zoe, pondering its usage for a moment before nodding.

“She's not wrong,” she offers carelessly, bracelets clanking on her wrist as she dangles her phone over her knee. Her makeup is smoky and dark like Madison's, and she looks effortlessly elegant as usual. It’s something you know bothers Madison who is constantly fighting to look as desirable as possible. Zoe gives you a pleading, apologetic look that you shrug at.

“I don't mind it,” you confirm. Madison quickly ha’s and folds her arms across herself smugly. You roll your eyes. Though Madison may be a fucking asshole, she’s never misgendered you.

“What are you gonna wear?” Zoe asks then, changing the subject, and you chew your lip. You don’t own a single dress, and you don’t own anything in between too casual and too formal either. Going clubbing isn’t something that you do. Seeing your hesitation, Madison groans and grabs your wrist with deceivingly strong fingers as she drags you to your room to dig through your closet.

Really, you’d rather just stay in. Up until recently, on nights like these you and Cordelia would be in the greenhouse tinkering with potions or reading dusty spellbooks. You’d been at the academy over a year now, but the two of you hadn’t started spending time together until about six months ago when you began showing real talent in green magic. During a lesson with Misty, you brought a withered plant back to life, and Cordelia took notice. She’d been leaning against the doorframe, there to do a little work before she went to bed, and ended up watching your powers blossom instead. She was already close with Misty, so she wasted no time coming up to the both of you, her hand on Misty’s back as she praised you.

“Your lessons are coming along nicely, Y/N.”

“I didn’t teach ‘em that, Miss Cordelia,” Misty admitted, and then they looked at you with curious wonder. You shied away from it, nervous as if you’d done something wrong. Cordelia gave you that soft smile she used so much and hummed, thoughtful and quiet.

That’s when your private lessons with her began. At first it was once a week in the greenhouse, but it quickly evolved to almost every night after dinner when the two of you were already so tired from the day. She would run a slender finger along lines of Latin, reciting them slowly and carefully so that you could follow. You’d stumble, and she would smile, small and soft and just for you. Try again, sweetheart. She’d say. You’re almost there. Then she’d ask you about your day when you got too frustrated to go again, growing flowers around her as you talked.

“Alright...” Madison sighs, looking over her handiwork. You look at yourself in the mirror, pleasantly surprised.

“Not bad,” you say so as not to inflate her ego too much, tugging on the collar of the cream silk button down she picked out for you.

“Well, you don’t own a single fucking dress,” she complains, cocking her head at you, assessing you. “It’s the best I could do.”

“Yeah, that’s on purpose,” you mutter, turning to admire the pants you hadn’t worn in ages. They’re burgundy and patterned with flowers, and you haven’t gotten a chance to wear them once since you’ve been at Miss Robichaux’s. You look good, actually, and you run your hand down your chest, sizing up your hips and stuffing your hands into your pockets.

“You look good,” Madison comments absently, scrolling through her phone, and you feel a wave of warmth surge through you. You’re wearing a new binder tonight, and it may or may not be a size smaller than you should be wearing, but it looks so fucking good you almost want to cry. Madison knows how heavily the compliment hits you even though she said it casually enough to be brushed off by anyone else. Her eyes flutter from you to her phone then back again, and she shifts uncomfortably, uneasy with the energy she created. “Come on. They’re waiting.”

You follow in a daze, bounding down the stairs with her. Though you aren’t sure how she could possibly run so quickly in those heels. The rest of them are waiting in the entryway. Coco’s calling an uber, and Zoe’s grinning at you in a flowing pink dress that rests just above her knees.

“Jesus, Y/N, you look great,” she says, brushing her long hair behind her ear, sparkles shining on her eyelids.

“Who knew you cleaned up so good,” Mallory teases, coming up and hugging you, the same sparkles littering her cheeks. She looks like an embodiment of springtime, and your eyes catch the shine of her necklaces as they sway. Mallory is one of the first people you befriended here, and she knows things about you not even Zoe does. Namely, your feelings for Cordelia which you let slip one wine soaked evening. She’s never let you live it down. You squeeze her back, suppressing the grin threatening to tighten your cheeks. They all look so beautiful, and their compliments make you feel so warm and close and welcome.

“Queenie, did you talk to Cordelia?” Coco asks, glancing up from her phone. Queenie’s in skin tight leather pants and a silky blue blouse, and you know she’s already taken a few pre-game shots by the shine in her eyes. Though you perk up at Cordelia’s name, looking over as your chest seizes up, overwhelmed by the sudden desire for her to see you like this.

You aren’t quite sure when your feelings for Cordelia tipped over into dangerous territory. When you first met, you were instantly struck by the power that radiated off her. You could feel it all the way down to your bones, the way she pulled you in, irresistible, inevitable. It intimidated you and fascinated you, and you were enthralled. But it wasn’t until the first time the two of you were on dish duty together that her perfume drifted to your nose, shoulders brushing. Her eyes shone right into yours. Her smile slipped between your ribs like hot coffee, and you were drowning. And now you can’t help but want her to feel the same way when she sees you.

Later, when you got to know her more, her sense of humor lit your face like a sunrise. You loved making her laugh, loved the way it rolled through her and spilled over her lips like honey. It’s bafflingly easy to talk to her, easy to tease her, easy to listen to her. You didn’t realize how much trouble you were in until she smiled at you in passing one day and you found yourself wanting to press her against the wall, to hear her gasp, to taste her lips.

Then at the beginning of the week you were in the greenhouse together, and she asked you to think of a feeling, to hold it and harness it and let your magic take you where it wants with it. It was unusual in its ambiguity and signaled a transition into a different level of power that unnerved you. Not because you felt you were incapable. No, Cordelia Goode is Headmistress of Miss Robichaux’s and Supreme of this coven, and you’ve become so paranoid about her discovering your little crush that you’ve even tried not to think too loudly. Now you feared that if you were to let go like she asked then your magic would do all the talking for you.

“It’s not a test,” she reassures with an easy smile, sensing your hesitation. “I’m just curious to see how much your magic’s grown. I think you’re holding out on me,” she teases, and you swallow, shifting your bare feet on the cold stool. Cordelia has her legs crossed, hands delicately in her lap with posture that would put you to shame.

“Why would I do that?” you ask as Cordelia’s eyes narrow briefly, piercing you. You’re teasing, but only partly. Mostly, you’re just nervous.

“You tell me, sweetheart,” she counters, a smile pulling at her lips. You swallow, trying to pinpoint when she started calling you that, when your legs started feeling like jelly when she looked at you like that. You take a deep breath and don’t answer, closing your eyes instead.

“I don’t know what to focus on,” you begrudgingly admit.

“Try a person,” she suggests. “One of the girls.” You choose to focus on your friendship with Mallory and the teasing, easygoing closeness you two had fostered, letting your magic well up and take over. “Good,” Cordelia breaths, and you don’t dare open your eyes, but the breathy praise sends a shiver down your spine. In an instant, your mind derails. Cordelia’s hands come to mind, the way her fingers brush your back when you’re crushing herbs, the laugh in her voice at your dumb jokes, the pink of her lips, the hollow of her throat. You feel something sharpen and come to a close inside you, and your eyes shoot open.

“What happened?” you ask breathless and worried. Cordelia startles at your panic, and you notice her face is flushed all the way from the tops of her cheeks to her jaw. Her gaze travels to the table, and you follow it to find the previously empty pots sprouting vibrant yellow, orange, and red tulips.

“You grew them,” she says. Her voice is hoarse, embarrassed, and for the first time since you’ve known her she struggles to meet your eyes. “They cycled through colors. It was—” She clears her throat. “It was quite the sight.” There’s something she isn’t saying. You can feel it, but you’re too afraid to push it, not when she can’t look at you for more than a moment.

“So did I pass?” you ask, hoping to diffuse the tension. She scoffs, a faint smile on her lips as she shakes her head wearily.

It isn’t until late that night when you’re lying in bed that you remember flowers have meanings. And it only takes you another second to remember Cordelia’s remarkable botanical abilities. Fear floods through you as you remember her expression, and you grab your phone, opening google through the blinding haze of light. Yellow represents happiness, cheerfulness, and hope. Okay, perfect. That’s good. Orange is understanding and appreciation. Yep, fine, you can deal with that. That’s normal to feel for a friend, a mentor. Red is passion, love, and lust. You nearly choke as you turn over on your stomach, your heart pounding in the darkness. Fuck. Oh fuck. No wonder she blushed so hard. You feel like an absolute idiot. That was her moment to say something, to return your feelings. And she didn’t.

You were devastated. And when you finally worked up the courage to tell Mallory a couple days later, you horrified yourself by crying.

“I didn’t know you liked her that much,” she says quietly, rubbing the top of your arm.

“I didn’t either,” you say, wiping your eyes. It’s part of the reason you didn’t want to go out tonight. You were still wallowing by Friday, having avoided all of Cordelia’s private lessons that week. Still, Mallory insisted. She wanted you to have some fun, so, reluctantly, you agreed. And now you’re standing in the entryway trying not to imagine Cordelia walking in to tell you all to be safe tonight and stopping when she sees you. Looking at you the way you want her too. Not hungry. Just needy.

“Yeah, she’s good. Misty’s staying in too, so they can handle the girls,” Queenie responds to Coco, and you swallow, thinking of her and Misty watching over the younger witches together while you’re out getting drunk. Part of you feels guilty for that. The other part of you wants Cordelia to come with you, to drink with you, to dance with you, sweaty and hazy and closer than ever. You want the excuse to lean into her, to hold her steady and ask her if you could buy her another drink over the pounding music and dim lights.

“Car’s here,” Coco calls, and then you’re being dragged out the front door into an Uber before you can say wait.

. . .

The six of you stumble in the front door sometime after last call. Things get a bit blurry between your last drink and the moment you slip off your shoes by the stairs. Zoe can’t handle her liquor, so you vaguely register Coco saying she’s putting her to bed. Meanwhile Madison stumbles against the banister and laughs. She smells like cigarettes, and her dress is ridden up to the tops of her thighs, and you know she’s blacked out but her makeup isn’t even smudged so it’s a little deceiving.

“I’m never letting you live that down,” she laughs breathlessly at you, hands pressed to her knees. You’re confused, and your vision doubles, and Queenie’s pulling her up the stairs.

“Go to bed, bitch,” she instructs, then turns back to you. “Girl ain’t gonna remember shit tomorrow,” she says as if it’s supposed to be reassuring.

“I don’t think Y/N remembers shit,” Mallory teases next to you, bumping your shoulder. Queenie snorts and shakes her head, and then it’s just you two in the entryway. “Come on let’s get some water,” she says, leading you to the kitchen. You stumble over your feet and laugh as you drape yourself over her shoulder.

“I’m not thirsty,” you whine, the room spinning. “Wait. Mal, I gotta show you. Th’ flowers. She kept them.” You break away from her, meandering to the greenhouse and hoping she’ll follow.

“Babe, I took you out to get your mind off Cordelia,” she groans, trailing after you. You stop, turning to her. You intend to poke her in the chest, but you miss and get her shoulder.

“‘M drunk. What d’you expect?” Mallory raises her brow, amused. You grin and then waver back, and Mallory grabs your elbow to steady you.

“Alright, you sappy dumbass. You can show me as long as you promise to drink some water afterwards.” You smirk and hold out your pinky. As soon as Mallory takes it in hers, you make a show of crossing the fingers on your other hand. Mallory looks offended and tries to pull you closer by your pinky. Unsteady, you slip from her grasp and run to the greenhouse. She calls out for you, laughing, and then you’re both running, your socks sliding on the floor as you round the corner to the greenhouse. One wrong step, and then your ass is hitting the ground hard, your wrist following quickly after. The thump reverberates through you, and you curse, groaning as you roll to your side. Mallory gasps and then laughs when she sees you.

“Oh fuck off,” you slur. The two of you make eye contact for a long second before you both burst out laughing harder than before. Mallory doubles over, and you’re wheezing wonderful, soundless laughs, and then bare feet are padding towards you.

“What are you two doin’?” Misty groans, rubbing her eye, hair mussed from sleep. “It’s near three.” You contain yourselves for a moment—but only barely—as you look at Misty. “Are y’all drunk?” Mallory sputters, and then you’re laughing again, big belly laughs that have you struggling to catch your breath.

“I’m sorry, Misty, did we wake you?” Mallory asks, stepping forward. She grabs you under your arm and pulls you to your feet. The room twirls, and you grasp at Mallory as you both sway like rafts in a storm. Misty’s bedroom is just down the hall from the greenhouse. It was one she insisted on when she moved in. Not that Cordelia would dare make her bunk with anyone anyway. She tends to favor the older residents in that way. Still, you can’t help thinking Misty might be getting some special treatment. It makes you unreasonably jealous anytime you think about it, but right now it just makes you sad.

“What d’you think?” Misty asks back, not harshly but she’s clearly annoyed. “Go to bed.”

“Can’t. I need a flower,” you say, moving out of Mallory’s grasp. Everything feels fuzzy and distant. You brush past Misty who looks baffled, and they both follow you. You blink hard, swallowing as you look around for those bright yellows, oranges, and reds. You spot them on Cordelia’s workbench. They’d been moved since you were last here at the beginning of the week. They’d been… “She repotted them.”

“‘Course she did. You made ‘em,” Misty says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. You approach them like they aren’t real, like they’re a mirage. It’s a lovely pot, a deep dark blue that draws you in. Misty’s comment confuses you, but you don’t have the capacity to think about it right now. You pick up the pot gingerly, like it would shatter in your hands. Your wrist burns from the fall.

“See?” you ask, turning to Mallory. There’s an emotion in your voice you’re too drunk to name. And she just stares back at you like she can see it, like she can name it.

“What are you three doing here so late?” a voice asks from the doorway, and you look past Mallory to find Cordelia in a long silky robe with her arms wrapped tight around her middle. She looks tired, her hair falling unmade over her shoulders. The warm, soft sight of her makes your chest tighten.

“These two woke me up with their drunken ruckus,” Misty drawls. Cordelia sighs, and even trashed you’re smart enough to look sheepish.

“Go back to bed, Misty,” Cordelia instructs with a gentle hand on her bare shoulder. You zero in on the motion like it’s a betrayal. Logically, it’s not, but when you’re drunk everything feels more pointed. She obeys with a grudging goodnight, and then Cordelia steps in next to Mallory. “Did you all just get home?” she asks without looking at you. Mallory nods.

“Coco’s putting Zoe to bed. Pretty sure Queenie and Madison are already there,” she informs her.

“Good. I’ll take it from here. Get some sleep,” Cordelia coaxes, her voice firm but caring. Mallory looks to you. She doesn’t say anything, but the question is clear. Are you okay being left alone with Cordelia while you’re drunk? You nod even though part of you wants to panic and run because your walls are so incredibly thin when you’re like this.

“See you for breakfast, dumbass,” she says with a smile, and you smile back, holding the flower pot tighter in your arms.

“Night, idiot,” you reply, and Mallory smirks before turning and leaving the greenhouse. The silence in the wake of her absence is deafening, and it takes you a moment to meet Cordelia’s eyes. You’ve sort of been avoiding her all week, and you both can feel it between you now. “Hi,” you say like an absolute fool.

“Hi,” Cordelia says back. She’s not smiling, but her voice lilts like she wants to. “Come to the kitchen with me?” She cocks her head toward the hallway, and you nod once, too quickly, and follow her.

You don’t realize you still have the pot in your arms until you’re setting it down on the counter. Time seems to be moving in leaps and bounds, and you wonder how much of this you’ll remember tomorrow. Hopefully all of it.

“Like the pot,” you comment as Cordelia picks up a glass of water on the table.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” she says, her eyes flitting over the tulips. “Wish you could have seen it sooner.” She’s commenting on your absence this week, and you wish you could stop your mouth before you say…

“Miss me?”

“Yeah,” she replies automatically. The hoarseness of her voice strikes you, and you meet her eyes. “I did,” she finishes more strongly. There’s a beat where she says nothing, and then she snaps out of it, masks whatever she was feeling. “You should drink some water.” You groan and drape yourself over the island. You’re not good at taking orders while you’re sober let alone while you’re wasted. And it isn’t that you don’t like being taken care of. In fact, if it were Cordelia, you’d be more than happy letting her take over. It’s just that you feel so patronized. You know you’re vulnerable right now, but more importantly Cordelia knows it too.

“I’m fine,” you drawl, turning to the wine rack behind you and grabbing a bottle by the neck. It’s sloppy and loose, and in the time it takes you to grab a corkscrew from the drawer, Cordelia is inexplicably at your side.

“Absolutely not,” she says, her voice low and only vaguely firm as she puts the bottle back. You’re about to tell her she can’t control you—mostly out of petty defiance—when she sees what you’re about to say and stops you with nothing but her eyes. “That is a $50 vintage. If you insist on drinking at this hour in your state, at least stick with a blend.” She pulls another bottle from the rack, something cheap and red and fruity, and sets it decisively on the counter. “And I don’t trust you with that,” she says, now definitely teasing as she takes the corkscrew from you and opens the bottle. You sway against her steady frame, and the pounding of your heart sobers you a few degrees.

“Do you hate me?” Your voice comes out quiet and soft, and Cordelia’s face is appalled and concerned when she turns her head to you. You shrink from it, afraid, and she turns her body to face you, hip against the counter.

“Why would you ever think that?” She’s sad now, and you swallow down the lump in your throat as you scratch at the back of your neck.

“The flowers,” you choke, looking at them on the counter. Cordelia follows your gaze. When she turns back to you, her cheeks are flushed again. She almost looks mournful, and you hate the way it twists her brows and dulls her eyes.

“I could never hate you. Never,” she says with a firm shake of her head. She doubles in front of you, and you blink and swallow, unable to process the depth of her emotions. So, you drink, grabbing the bottle by the neck and taking a long swig. “Jesus Christ, Y/N,” she sighs as you lick your lips and smirk.

“My bottle now,” you say, setting it back on the counter.

“Astute observation,” Cordelia comments, but there’s a small smile on her lips. “Though I wouldn’t say that in front of Madison. She might spit in it right back.” The realization depresses you because she’s absolutely right, and you groan, pressing your palms into the counter. Your wrist twinges, and you hiss.

“Forgot about that,” you mumble, and Cordelia frowns, gently grabbing your arm. She prods and you yelp and she apologizes, her fingers so soft and gentle across your skin.

“Is that the thump I heard earlier?” she asks, looking at you over long lashes. You bite your lip, and she hums. “You should ice this.”

“Are we still friends?” You ask because you can’t not anymore. The question’s been burning in you since you grew those damned tulips, and now it slips past your loosened lips.

“What?” Cordelia almost laughs, but it’s more of a horrified scoff. She keeps her grip on your forearm, one thumb digging into the top of your hand. You can smell her flowery perfume, and it makes you drowsy all of a sudden.

“I mean, is it weird? Now. Like…” you choke and stop, tears welling in your eyes.

“Y/N, honey,” Cordelia sighs, stepping impossibly closer to you, raising a hand to brush across your cheek. The touch sends a shiver down your spine, and Cordelia’s gentle, pleading look makes you want to melt right into her. “What are you talking about?” Feeling suffocated, your mind buzzing with static, you take a step back.

“Mal said I shouldn’t say this when’m drunk, an’ I think she’s right,” you ramble, running fingers through your hair, trying to get ahold of yourself. Cordelia pales in the kitchen light, and she wraps her arms around herself. It isn’t fair for you to dangle this around and then not say anything. Cordelia’s mind must be spinning, but you’ve already muzzled yourself, and you don’t know how to undo it.

“It’s really none of my business,” Cordelia says, her voice frighteningly even. “You’re both adults. It’s not like I need to be informed.” The words reach you through a drunken haze. Your mouth tastes like cherries, and your head buzzes, and you’re so confused now.

“What?” you ask, your voice cracking. Cordelia sighs and grabs the bottle from the counter. You watch as she takes a long drink, wine lingering in the creases of her lips. You want to lick it off her.

“I think it’s time for bed,” she says, recorking the bottle and setting it back on the counter with a thunk. Her throat bobs, and you narrow your eyes, trying to focus on it, to dissect it.

“Cordelia…” You don’t say her name very often, too afraid of how good it feels to have it falling from your lips. And now it’s so quiet, so pleading. Though for what you aren’t sure. For time to slow, maybe. To just pause for a moment. Here. In the kitchen in the middle of the night, and you’re drunk, and Cordelia’s in a silken robe, and your head is swimming. She turns to you, her eyes penetrating.

“Yes?”

“There’s two of you.” You’ve lost your nerve. The tension falls from Cordelia’s face, and she exhales a gasping chuckle, holding her middle tightly.

“Do you want help up the stairs?” The way she says it is gentle and a little teasing, and you find yourself nodding like a child. And then Cordelia’s arm is slipping around your waist, guiding you forward. Her thumb draws circles in your back, and you stumble against her warm body.

“You smell nice,” you slur, resting your cheek on her shoulder. It feels nice to be here like this, her propping you up. Her grip tightens on you as you hold the handrail on the stairs, but she’s oddly silent otherwise. Your words linger in the air all the way up the stairs, even when you nearly wobble back, and Cordelia catches you with a palm pressed to your middle, the other tightly around you.

“Careful,” she breathes into your ear. It sends a shiver down your spine. By the time you reach your room, your heart is pounding, and you’re barely quelling the urge to turn your head and kiss Cordelia senseless. You don’t think you’ve ever been this close to her, this warm, and yet you feel like there’s miles between you. Lingering in the back of your mind is something you can’t shake, something wrong, but you have no idea what it is. Without asking, Cordelia sits you down on your bed and grabs pajamas out of your dresser.

Hoping to be useful, you pull at the buttons of your shirt. You get about halfway down before you give up and pull at your belt. Your fingers are weak and uncoordinated, and you don’t get very far before Cordelia is kneeling in front of you and untying your oxfords. You’re speechless at the quiet devotion, and against your own volition, your fingers move to brush through Cordelia’s hair. She doesn’t look up when she pulls off your shoes, but you feel her lean into your palm and exhale slowly, carefully.

“Stand up, darling,” she mumbles, holding your hands and helping you up. She pulls at your belt, pulling you, and you stumble against her, your hands on her shoulders.

“Sorry,” you breathe as her fingers curl into your stomach. She seems tired, and she can’t manage to look at you, look at anything really. “I can do it. I just...the buttons,” you whisper helplessly, swaying. Cordelia flushes. Wordlessly, she raises her hands to your chest, gently, slowly unbuttoning. Both your eyes follow her hands as they trail down. Your stomach twitches under the soft grazing of her warm fingers. It’s only when you realize that you’re in a white binder that you start feeling self conscious. “Can you turn? Please?” She swallows and nods, taking a step away and turning her back to you. As quickly as possible without getting dizzy and falling, you slip on the tee shirt and sweatpants Cordelia picked out for you. “Okay.”

She turns back around and almost immediately frowns.

“Y/N…” It’s quiet and pleading as she sits next to you on the bed. “Please don’t sleep in that.” You frown now too, more confused than anything as you look down at yourself.

“But you picked it out…”

“No, sweetheart,” she laughs, grabbing the hand that sits on your lap and squeezing. “The binder.” Your heart drops to your stomach at the words, and you swallow. She sees your reaction and leans into you, pressing her forehead to your temple.

“I don’t want you to see,” you admit.

“I won’t,” she assures, pulling back to look at you, eyes raking over your embarrassment.

“No. I mean…” you struggle to find the words. “I want you to see me how I am. Not...how I am.” She understands immediately what you mean and does something you do not expect at all. She kisses your cheek, humming deeply.

“I do,” she nearly sighs into your skin. “I always have. I don’t want you to ever worry about that.” Your throat bobs, and your cheeks flush, and you feel like you’re on fire.

“Delia,” you mumble. It slips out like a question, and she looks at you, wide eyed. It’s a nickname you haven’t had the privilege of using before. You’d thought it was reserved only for Myrtle and Misty, not you. The fact that she let you say it, looked at you like she’s been waiting for you to say it, is overwhelming. And suddenly you're leaning into her. You’re holding Cordelia’s face in one hand and you’re kissing her, solid and hopeful.

Cordelia stiffens against you for a terrible moment, and then she melts and presses into you, lips parting for yours. You feel the tension bleed from her, feel something new and hot take its place. She moves her lips against yours, so slow and careful, like the moment is about to shatter. Her hand catches on the back of your arm, holding you there, and your fingers curl into her neck. Cordelia tastes of toothpaste, and she smells like honey, and you can’t help but moan, faintly, into her. The noise breaks against Cordelia as a wave does on sharp rocks, and she wrenches away from you. Your lips part with a smack. You’re dizzy, and you lick your lips, eyes fluttering open.

“Y/N. I can’t,” she sighs, looking down.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble immediately, wanting to curl up and disappear right then and there. You feel your face heating, the taste of Cordelia still on your lips.

“You’re drunk, and there’s Mallory,” she says, looking down into her lap. You force your eyes open and try to steady your vision as you look at Cordelia.

“Mallory?” you ask, struggling to form the syllables of her name around your tongue. Now it’s Cordelia who looks confused. Slowly, pieces start fitting together. “Wait. Do you…is that...I mean, when you said it’s none of your business…”

“You and Mallory,” Cordelia says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“No,” you say firmly with a very drunk shake of your head.

“No?”

“Never,” you confirm and then say something with a confidence that only comes from intoxication. “It’s always been you.”

“What?” Cordelia chokes, her face quickly turning a deep shade of red.

“Wait,” you say again, cutting through Cordelia’s confusion, her shock, with a wave of your own. “You...why did you...you kissed me back.”

“Y/N.” She says your name breathlessly and astonished. She’s clearly figured something out before you. “Oh my god.”

“The flowers. You thought…”

“They were about Mallory. I did tell you to think of one of the girls.”

“I got distracted,” you grumble, and Cordelia kisses your cheek with renewed fervor. “What about you and Misty?” Cordelia pulls away only to cup your cheeks in the palms of her hands. She swipes her thumbs over your face and holds your gaze.

“It’s always been you.”

You find the way she repeats your words achingly romantic and the shine in her eyes ridiculously alluring, and then you’re grinning. The pads of your fingers find their way to Cordelia’s lips without your control, and to your astonishment she kisses them, letting you pull her lower lip down until you see teeth.

“I never thought…”

“Why?” Cordelia asks, reaching over to hold the hand against her mouth.

“Why didn’t you?” you ask back, searching her eyes.

“I don’t deserve you,” she breathes too honestly, too raw. It makes you want to cry.

“Are you kidding? I don’t deserve you,” you laugh, leaning forward. She smiles and rests her forehead against yours.

“Y/N,” she sighs your name like a release, and you can’t wait to hear it over and over again for a long, long time. “Don’t think this is getting you out of sleeping in that binder.” You groan and slide your head to her shoulder. She holds you, just holds you, and you relax into her.

“I’m too tired,” you whine.

“Come on,” Cordelia sighs, helping you to your feet. Slowly, she pulls your shirt over your head, and then you’re awake. “Do you need help?”

“No,” you reply immediately, bordering on defensive. She steps back and turns around, and then you struggle out of your binder with fumbling, sweaty palms. “Okay,” you say finally, having slipped your shirt back on, the binder discarded on the floor. As she picks up your clothes and folds your binder, you climb into bed to try and push down the humiliation welling up. “I’m sorry.” Her eyes dart to you, and she sits on the edge of your bed.

“For what?”

“I’m drunk. Y’shouldn’t have to take care of me.” She clicks her tongue and slides a hand down your arm.

“I don’t mind. Besides, look what it got us.” You blush, and she does back at the directness of her words. You watch her swallow and bury the side of your face into the pillow, wishing it smelled like her.

“Us,” you mumble back, and if possible she blushes harder.

“We can talk more in the morning,” she says, leaning down and kissing the side of your head. Instead of letting her go, you wrap your arms around her, pulling her down on top of you for a tight embrace. She relaxes almost immediately, melting against you, sighing into your neck.

“Is this real?”

“I hope so,” she mumbles into your skin.

When you wake up the next morning, your head is pounding something fierce, and your mouth is dry as cotton. You roll over with a groan, stomach turning, bleary eyed and dizzy, to find a glass of water, muffin, and two aspirin on your nightstand. You frown, pushing yourself up on your elbow, and see a note resting against the glass.

It’s always been you

Delia x

[paradiecircus]

When she steps on the scene and says that ain’t you sis! Whewwww