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mistydear · 2 years

Text

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

#cordelia goode #cordelia goode x reader #cordelia x reader #ahs coven #ahs coven fanfic #ahs fanfic #mallory #queenie #zoe benson #misty day #madison montgomery #coco st. pierre vanderbilt #writing

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chaoshaswon · 3 years

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Wasteland, Baby Chapter Six

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The clock struck midnight and Maddie sighed, throwing her head back against the wall.

It had been an exceptionally long day. And all she wanted, more than her next breath, was to find Michael. To have him wrap her up in his arms and just hold her until everything disappeared.

In the moments they were alone, the world almost seemed good again. Which meant every minute that passed without him suddenly stretched on and on.

She hadn't been able to see him as much during the day. Between Venable and the others, she was kept busy.

Still, she had woken up with a large reminder of his presence. Mallory had gasped when Maddie sat up and pushed her back down until Emma and Jane had left.

"What the fuck was that about?" Maddie asked when they were gone.

"Is Langdon a vampire?" Mallory had snarked. "Because it looks like he chewed up your entire neck!"

"Shit!" She'd rushed to the bathroom to look in the mirror. Sure enough, the base of her neck was purple and blotchy.

"Good night?" Mal had asked with a wink and Maddie had never been more thankful for the high collars on their uniform.

And while she was annoyed at him for being so obvious and leaving physical reminders, she got a perverse little pleasure looking at it every time she was in a bathroom.

Especially since she only was able to see Michael, not in passing, once. And, even then, their encounter was hurried.

She arrived at the kitchen first thing in the morning for the daily assignments. The Fist informed them all of where they were going. Maddie had winced when she was informed that Coco had asked for her specifically. In fact, she’d been so caught up in her own dread that she nearly missed the Fist informing them that no one would need to tend to Evie, Emily, or Tim. When Eric had asked why, the Fist had smirked.

"Mrs. Gallant passed away in her sleep last night. And Emily and Tim will soon be joining her in the hereafter. A reminder for all of you to follow the rules of this institution to the letter."

Maddie easily read between the lines.

Em and Tim had never been as subtle as they'd like to believe. It had felt like a matter of time before they were caught but then, knowing what she did, Maddie was filled with dread.

When she left, Maddie found Mallory in the corner. "I need you to cover for me."

"What?"

"Please, Mal! Fifteen minutes tops."

The surprise on Mallory’s face had vanished and she had nodded. “Yeah. Okay. Go.”

Maddie had rushed through the halls, careful not to be seen as she made her way to Michael’s quarters. She hadn’t even bothered to knock as she pushed it open and ran into his temporary home.

She’d found him at his kitchen table, lazily typing on his laptop while eating a piece of toast. He was dressed to distraction in a pair of trousers and nothing else, leaving her momentarily tongue-tied and remembering every moment of their time together as well as the promise of what was to come.

He had grinned as she flew through his doorway. “Good morning, Madeline. Coffee?”

She’d managed to shake herself from her stupor to inform him, “Venable is going to kill Emily and Tim.”

“How interesting. Why?”

His cavalier tone made her want to shake him.

“She caught them having sex. You have to stop her!”

Michael had only blinked at her, gesturing vaguely with his half-eaten toast. “But I’m eating.”

She’d grit her teeth in frustration. “Michael. Please.” And that seemed to work. For a man who held himself in such high esteem that he looked at nearly everyone else as vermin, it amazed her how well a please worked.

A nagging part of her said it had little to do with the manners and more to do with who was doing the asking but she wasn't quite able to process that in the allotted time so she filed it away for later.

Michael had sighed dramatically and abandoned his breakfast to dress, handing her his coffee and insisting she drink it if he couldn’t. It was hard to argue with such sound reason so she had.

When he came back out of his room, he was dressed. Michael had grabbed her and kissed her thoroughly before asking, “Do I really have to stop her? I’d much rather stay here and pick up where we left off…”

After she assured him that yes, he did have to stop Venable from murdering two innocent people, he’d rolled his eyes.

“I suppose this means they’ll also be joining us in Sanctuary?” he’d asked in a bored tone before she practically pushed him out the door before it was too late.

With a final grumble about good girls and a kiss to her head, he’d left.

Seven seats were at the lunch table.

And that probably would have been a lot more satisfying if she weren’t so exhausted from dealing with Coco and Gallant, the latter of whom apparently wasn’t heartbroken at the death of his nana.

It seemed her three-hour interview with Langdon had not gone unnoticed by anyone, proving what Maddie had known to be true the whole time: there are no secrets in an Outpost. It also didn’t help that Venable had loudly alluded to Langdon’s “special interest in our own Madilyn.”

She really could smack him for letting her sleep that long. A single hour of his time was precious. Most of his interviews lasted between twenty and thirty minutes.

One thing was certain: Michael Langdon lacked subtlety in all its forms.

She could only imagine his response to that if she told him. “I have no need to be subtle. I’m right.” Rolling his sea-blue eyes, huffing his exasperation that she would even suggest he should be more subtle. After all, they were all beneath him.

It shouldn’t amuse her the way it did. Michael was a bastard. He teased them all with an Eden that he had basically no intent of delivering. He took great joy in making them all squirm although, she would admit, he liked making her squirm in an entirely different fashion.

She wondered if it was a matter of vanity. Would he be easier to hate if he wasn’t so attractive? Maybe. He looked like he was crafted by the gods themselves. A Bernini statue come to life. A wild biological defense that made him so handsome only to protect himself from those who would see the true darkness that drove him.

And she did see the darkness.

Anyone who really looked at him wouldn’t be able to miss it. It was in every condescending tilt of his head and every word meant to bait the others into losing control.

The question arose again: how could he be so cruel to others and so kind to her?

He promised to explain in time. It only worried her more. What deep and dark secrets was he keeping from her? Was Sanctuary even real? And if it was, what would they find there?

And yet, she was certain he wasn’t lying to her. He had a way of speaking that was utterly truthful. A careful elocution where his every word was carefully picked to hint at something fantastical while never really revealing anything. If one listened carefully, he never really promised anyone a ticket to Sanctuary. Except her. Of that, she had no doubt.

Still, the others were desperate for any kind of hope.

Which was why Maddie had been told to sit when she was supposed to be turning down Coco’s room to chat. Coco had never spoken to her in the entire eighteen months they had been at Outpost 3, unless “you! Grey! Fix me a tea!” or “Mallory’s little friend! I need help with my dress” counted as conversation.

“Alright, grey. Spill.”

“Spill what?”

“What happened between you and Langdon!” Gallant had said as if she were an idiot. “You were with him for three hours yesterday. Are you really going to pretend that you didn’t sleep together?”

“We didn’t.” Maddie informed them dryly. For all intents and purposes, she had slept alone the day before. Michael had merely tucked her in.

And while she had tried to seduce him further later that night, he had held firm. Even still, he had brought her to new heights of pleasure she had never imagined before. He put even her most favorite vibrator to shame.

“Yeah. Okay. Nobody believes that. Come on, we’re not looking for the down and dirty details.”

“Speak for yourself,” Gallant had said with a smirk.

Coco had admonished him, slapping Gallant’s chest. “Behave. Come on, Maddie.” She had said her name with a heaviness that told Maddie she was supposed to be honored by Coco learning and remembering her name. “Just give us a little insight into what he likes. What he expects in return for a ticket to Sanctuary.”

“Yeah. Like, he’s got a kinky vibe. But how far does that go?”

“Sadomasochism stuff? Or, just like vanilla BDSM?”

“She’s still walking so it can’t have been too violent,” Gallant had said. “But I’m still thinking he likes it rough. Am I right?”

“I really couldn’t say.” She had told them, pushing away the thoughts of Michael between her thighs, devouring her like a starving man.

Even if she told them the truth, she didn’t think they’d believe her. Michael liked his hair pulled and being kissed on the neck. He liked leaving marks, bruises, and any other proof of possession. He liked kissing while I jerked him off and he ate my pussy like he would die if he stopped.

Gallant had groaned, “You’re killing us! We know you fucked him! No point in keeping it secret. What else were you doing for three hours?”

“Talking.”

“Okay,” Coco had said with a snort. “And I’m a virgin.”

She wondered if revealing her own virginal status would get them to lay off but she somehow doubted it. What was more, everyone in the entire Outpost would know by teatime and that was the last thing she needed.

Already, she had more attention than she liked and it was only getting worse.

Coco and Gallant had continued to push but she didn’t give them anything. Not even a hint, much to their displeasure.

Eventually, they let her get on with her duties. She'd cleaned up their mess and only idly regretted turning down Michael's offer of taking her away from it all.

Even so, everything was made easier by the promise of Sanctuary in days and seeing Michael in hours.

When she had finished with Coco, they had all been called to an emergency meeting by Venable who had almost managed an apology for nearly killing Emily and Tim over having sex. Rather, she never said 'sorry', but she admitted to being wrong and promised to make it up to them all with a Halloween soiree at the end of the week.

Everyone had excitedly gathered around after to discuss the party. Even Venable had stayed for tea with the others.

Of course, Michael had ruined the calm by showing up to steal Emma away for her interview. There had been at least a dozen people present when he had locked eyes with her as she prepared tea and said, in Latin, “Dic verbo, et tollam vos.” Say the word, and I will take you away.

She had flushed like crazy, all eyes suddenly flitting between them. Michael had been nonplussed, completely ignoring all others in the room.

She carefully replied, "Tibi gratias ago, sed nulla.” Thank you, but no.

Michael had shaken his head and mockingly quoted the Latin adage “Labore et honore?” By labour and honor, he was teasing her work ethic.

Unable to tell him to fuck off, like she wanted, she placed her thumb between her first and middle finger in a rude gesture from early Roman days and, with a calm smile, told him "mordere me." Bite me.

Michael's lips had stretched into a slow smile as he promised, "nocte, ego autem." Tonight I will.

He'd stepped back, eyes locked on her before spinning on his heel and leaving her alone to deal with the fallout.

Her lips twitched as she remembered it all. She was so going to get him back.

Coco had given her a pointed stare. "Umm, I'm sorry. What the fuck was that?"

“Nothing.” She had been quick to say, resuming her task.

“Now, Madeline-- it’s impolite to lie.” Venable’s hawk-like eyes were locked on her, a sickly sweet smile on her face. “What language was that?”

“Latin.”

“Latin?” Gallant asked, disbelievingly. “Isn’t that dead?”

She nodded. “Mister Langdon and I have a shared interest in ancient languages.”

“How do you know Latin?” Coco asked, the shock of a grey knowing anything clearly too much for her to handle.

Eighteen months she had spent with these people and no one knew the first thing about her. About any of them, really.

Of course, she’d studied a great deal of anthropology in her explorations of the ancient world. Time passed and the world evolved but people in power never did. Knowledge always fell to the wayside of authority. A slave who knew more than his master was still subject to punishment, the same as anyone else.

Her understanding of that fact helped her get through the long months without bemoaning how unfair the Outpost castes were.

“I was just a few months shy of getting my Ph.D in Ancient Civilizations when the blasts fell,” she had replied, quietly bringing over the tea tray to serve them.

“How did you end up here?”

Which was a fair question. Most of the greys were picked by Venable, herself. She had chosen Eric, because he had been a chef at a swanky restaurant in LA. Jane had been an EMT. Emma had been a hotel maid. James, a struggling actor who had waited tables. Mal had been a personal assistant.

She had never asked, and Venable had never shared, how Maddie ended up in a bunker.

“I couldn’t say why I was picked.”

“You weren’t picked,” Venable said, looking at her with a renewed curiosity. As if being the sole-holder of Michael Langdon’s interest wasn’t enough, it seemed everyone wanted to know about her now. “You were on a roster that I was given prior to the war.”

“Wait, are you saying she bought a ticket?”

“No. There were some people chosen specifically by the Cooperative. They had their reasons, I’m sure, but they were never made clear before the blasts fell.”

“Who would have added her to the roster? Why the hell would the new world need someone who’s only knowledge was in the old, old world?” Coco had pushed before Venable shut down the subject altogether, leaving Maddie with more questions than she had started with.

She had always been under the impression that Venable had been the one to recruit her. To find out otherwise was shocking.

Why would the Cooperative choose her of all people? Coco’s words weren’t wrong.

Michael had told her about Sanctuary the night before. The people who he had chosen to survive were all forward-thinking people, driven to keep the world going. There wasn’t room for people like her.

And even if they were looking for an expert in the past, someone to remind them of their history, they would have gone with someone much older and more educated.

She was still a student, not even with a doctoral degree when she had been taken to the Outpost.

Who on the Cooperative could have made that call?

Michael? But she shook her head as soon as she thought about it. Michael was too surprised by her existence to have been involved. And besides, they had never once crossed paths before the war. She would have remembered him, even in passing.

He wasn’t exactly easy to overlook.

Still, she was desperate to ask him. Even if he didn’t know, she was certain he would have more insight and answers than anyone else.

The clock ticked on and on, slowly as it ever had.

She had never been great left alone with her thoughts. That was part of the reason she focused so much attention on recording and translating. It kept her occupied.

Maddie hugged her knees to her chest.

She had always looked forward to her evenings alone in the library. It was by far the best part of her day but now… now she was just desperate to be back with Michael. The time spent apart was almost painful.

Even when she was immersed in work, he was always on her mind. A part of her wanted to smack him for his behavior earlier, riling up the others and leaving her alone to deal with the fallout of his little Latin conversation. The rest of her just wanted to jump him.

It was only 12:24, but she couldn’t take it anymore. She quietly rose to her feet, careful not to let the bed creek. She tiptoed through the darkened room, leaving behind her journal. They’d barely touched on it last night and tonight, she just wanted to talk to Michael. And maybe a few other things.

Her lips twitched as she opened the door and slipped through. Gently, she closed it behind her. The latch shut and Maddie continued quietly down the hall, a small smile on her face as she made her way towards the library.

A hand warapped around her face and she was lifted from the ground before she could process the fact that she had been touched. A scream escaped her of its own volition but it was muffled by the hand as she was dragged back and into one of the empty rooms, used for storage.

The door closed behind them.

She struggled against her captor but her arms were pinned to her side. Her body was held against another, leaving her with nowhere to turn as her heart beat wildly against the confines of her chest.

“Shh, shh, shh, shh!” She was hushed by a familiar voice. “Don’t scream.”

James.

A wave of terror crept through her and he removed his hand. “James, what are you doing?” she asked, stilling herself.

Maybe, if he loosened his grip, she could make a run for it…

“What I should have done a long time ago.”

She went cold at his words, flinching despite herself. “Can-can you let me go?”

He clicked his tongue. “I’m afraid I can’t. Not until I know that you aren’t going to do anything stupid.”

“You’re hurting me,” she tried, playing on his empathy.

“You’ll be fine.” With the hand that had been covering her mouth, he stroked her hair. “I’ve never seen you with your hair down. It’s… lovely.”

“Thank you.” Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

Every instinct she had told her to fight and scream but she fought them. They were far enough from the grey quarters that she might not be heard at all and James was a good head taller than her. She couldn’t take him in a fight.

And while the thought of playing along made her want to vomit, there was nothing else she could do.

“I’ve wanted you for so long.” He pushed her hair back and pressed a kiss to her cheek. Another round of nausea rushed to the surface. She swallowed it back, pushing for her most tried and true tactic.

“James, this isn’t allowed.”

“Venable let Emily and Timothy get off without any consequences. Literally,” he chuckled to himself. “Even threw a party.”

“Still.” She shuddered as his hand trailed down to the top of her dress. He undid a button at her neck. Then another. “It’s not worth the risk of death.”

“Apparently, we’ll die either way. And I’d rather be shot to death by Venable than risk the cannibals on the outside.”

“It doesn’t have to be an either or.”

He undid another button and stiffened. His silence was deafening before he said, “But then it seems that another has gotten here first. You let Langdon fuck you, Maddie?”

She swallowed, having forgotten of the bruises at the base of her neck. “You don’t want to do this, James.”

“You’ve been telling me what I want and don’t want for far too long,” he growled, wrapping a hand around her throat. “You’ve always thought you were better than me.” She shook her head and his grip tightened. “Don’t fucking deny it. You’ve made it clear that you think you’re too good for me.”

So much for eighteen months of letting him down gently.

“Please don’t do this,” she tried one last time. “Just let me go. I won’t say a word about this to anyone. I promise.”

“I’ll make it good for you, Maddie. Even if you are just another whore.” His hand trailed down towards her breast, the arm around her torso loosening ever so slightly.

Maddie slammed her elbow back, twisting from his arms as he cried out in pain. Disoriented, she tried to turn to run to the door but was grabbed by the wrist. James yanked her back and she hissed in pain as her shoulder popped audibly. He shoved her towards the back of the room.

Maddie stumbled over a box and fell, crashing into a stored-away table. Her head bounced off the hardwood and she crumpled to the floor.

Stars overtook her vision and her mouth tasted of copper. Blood?

Her world was going dim, her eyelids drifting shut.

No. Can’t pass out. Not here.

She tried to open her eyes and whimpered as she found she couldn’t. She was grabbed, shoved to her back only to find that she couldn’t move for trying. His body crawled on top of hers and she couldn’t even lift an arm to strike out.

“You’re going to regret that, Maddie.”

Suddenly, there was a crash and a rush of hot air sweeping into the room and the weight above her was gone. A dark energy surrounded her. Another crash, not quite as loud, echoed around the space followed by the sound of flesh hitting flesh.

Her head fell to the side and her eyes managed to crack open.

Michael had James against the wall and was beating him. Moving too fast for James to get a hit in, she could barely see his fists move. There was a sickening crunch of a bone breaking and James cried out in pain.

She could idly hear Michael speaking but it wasn’t in a language she recognized. It sounded like gibberish but, as he spoke, a grey mist seemed to spill from him.

Maddie blinked, uncertain of what she was seeing.

Hallucinating? She wondered as her head pounded painfully.

It felt like someone was physically taking a hammer to her skull. She cried out, barely withholding a sob.

Immediately, the sounds of the beating stopped and Michael was at her side.. She hadn’t even seen him move.

His face was paler than she had ever seen it. Was he wearing makeup? In her hazy-state, she almost thought she saw places where his skin was raised in the shapes of runes. His eyes were filled with flames.

And then it was gone.

Michael was staring down at her with his dark blue eyes, his features softening.

“I’ve got you, Madeline,” he promised, slipping his arms around her, one beneath her legs, the other under her back.

He lifted her with ease from the floor and she cried out again as her shoulder burned in agony.

His eyes flashed red again as he held her to his chest.

“I’m sorry, mu anassa,” he whispered.

And the room erupted in red. Startled, her eyes widened and she saw James lit on fire. His entire body, from head to toe, was engulfed in flames. For a split second, there was a piercing scream and then it was gone.

Or, rather, they were.

Michael had transmuted them across the Outpost. She recognized his bedroom as she was hit with another wave of nausea.

Michael was whispering to her, soothingly, as he laid her on his bed. It dipped slightly as she felt him sit next to her.

His fingers touched her forehead and the pain slowly dissipated, starting from where his fingers had touched and spreading back. The stars that had covered her vision were gone, as if they had never been there.

His hand trailed down and swept across her lips.

The taste of blood vanished.

“This might hurt,” he warned, sounding pained himself as he brought his hand to cover her shoulder.

Maddie bit her lip to keep from crying out but a small whine managed to escape before the pain, there, vanished with the rest.

Her breath hitched as she took account of her body. Less than a minute ago, she had been in blinding pain and now she was fine. Physically, at least. Not even the dullest of aches.

“H-how?” she whispered, unsure of what she was even asking.

How had he known she was in trouble? How had he lit James on fire? How had he healed her with a touch?

Yes, he was powerful but no witch or warlock was supposed to be that powerful. Alpha, Supreme, or not.

Michael reached up to cup her cheek. “Are you alright?” he asked. “Did I miss anywhere?”

She shook her head and noticed, only then, that she was trembling.

Michael’s face was tight, like he was fighting back emotions. “I’m so sorry, Madeline.”

Of all she could have expected him to say, that wasn’t it. “Sorry? You saved me.”

“I wasn’t there. I should have been there to walk you to the library. I should have known better than to leave you alone!” His words were gradually increasing in both volume and upset.

She reached out for the hand on his lap. “You couldn’t have known.”

“I could have,” he argued, shaking his head. “If I had just looked into his fucking head like I should have. I let myself take risks that I never should have with you in the picture.”

He continued ranting, his anger at himself palatable but Maddie was drawn to his words.

If I had just looked into his fucking head.

The more she learned, the more she was certain that Michael was far more than he said he was.

She thought back to the articles she had read on the witches when they first went public. Most witches had a gift, maybe two. Things they could do that no one else could. A great witch could have up to five gifts but only the best could master seven.

Michael had mastered far more than seven.

But she couldn’t bring herself to think about it yet.

Not when he was so distraught. Not when she was still shaking from fear and adrenaline.

When she thought about what could have happened if Michael hadn’t shown up…

She squeezed his hand tightly.

He turned his palm to face hers and squeezed back. “What can I do?”

“Just… Can you hold me for a few minutes?”

He nodded and Maddie pushed to a sitting position as Michael turned so his back was to the headboard. She curled into his side, letting her legs drape over his lap as she leaned into his touch.

His arms came around her and she wondered, for a moment, if the action would be too confining. If she’d be aching to escape the way she had tried to from James’ grasp but she only felt warm and safe.

For all his flaws, and fuck, he had flaws, she knew Michael would never hurt her.

She rested her head against his shoulder, nestling into the crook of his neck. She breathed in the warm, spicy scent of his skin mixed with the masculine fragrance from whatever he used on his hair.

My diva, she thought adoringly.

Michael ran a hand up and down her back, soothingly. “Would you like to talk about it?” he offered.

Desperately, although she feared Michael wouldn’t react well to any of it. He’d proven that already, though she was now doubting her memory.

Had Michael truly turned momentarily demonic and set James on fire? Or had her head injury been worse than she initially feared?

She breathed him in again, taking comfort in his presence.

“I was on my way to the library,” she said softly. “I have no idea where he was hiding but he grabbed me and covered my mouth so I couldn’t scream and dragged me off to that storeroom.”

Michael continued to stroke her back but she could feel his fingers had curled. She could feel the anger pulsing off him in waves. Still, she pushed on.

“He’s always been kind of pushy with me but he’d back off when I pushed back. And I’d always had the safety of Venable’s rules to fall back on. He wanted me, but not more than his life. But because Venable let Emily and Tim off the hook--”

“I never should have interfered,” he growled.

“No!” Maddie looked up and shook her head. “They didn’t deserve to die for what they did!”

“I don’t care what two half-witted kids do or don’t deserve.”

“Well, I do!” She reached for his face, turning him to face her. “And I know that you only saved them because I asked you too. And I didn’t get a chance to say thank you, earlier, but…”

“Don’t you dare,” he said, shaking his head. His lip curled in disgust. “Don’t thank me for coming in here and changing the rules that kept you safe until I could come for you.”

Again, there was something about his wording that threw her for a loop, but she didn’t get the feeling he was in the right place to tumble down that rabbit hole.

She shook her head. “I warned him that Venable might not be as kind two a grey as she was to a purple and he still said it was worth the risk. That he’d rather die by execution than cannibals.”

The news didn’t seem to set him on ease.

“Maybe we shouldn’t talk about it.”

“I’m fine.” Michael’s words came through gritted teeth. “This isn’t about me. I wasn’t the one almost--”

He couldn’t bring himself to say it and she adored him for that, too.

“I wasn’t,” she reassured him. “You got there, got to me, in time. You saved me, Michael.”

His expression didn’t change but he let his arms slide around her, hugging her tightly. “Continue.”

Although she appreciated the effort, it probably was best to keep James' comments about her hickies and her relationship with Michael to herself.

"I tried to reason with him. When it didn't work, I tried to hit him, to escape but I didn't even get close to the door."

Fuck, it was embarrassing how pathetic her attempt had been. She should have hit him harder. Screamed even after she hit him, just in case someone heard.

"You did what you could," he reassured her.

Her lip quivered as it all came back to her at once. James pinning her in place, his grimy hands and his putrid words.

She stiffened and Michael murmured, "There it is."

She swallowed, trying to stop herself from crying when Michael reached up to her face, wiping away a tear she didn't know had fallen.

"Let it go."

She did, choking on a sob as the emotions overwhelmed her. Michael wrapped her up in his arms and Maddie curled into him.

"You're safe now," he whispered and she cried harder, burying her face against his chest. Michael cupped the back of her head, gently massaging her. “I won’t let anything hurt you.”

And even as he offered her comfort, there was something utterly lethal about his tone. She didn’t doubt his words for an instant and she truly believed that Michael would kill anyone who looked at her wrong.

Her fingers dug into his shoulder as she sobbed.

She’d been so fucking terrified. She’d never felt more isolated or alone than she had in those few minutes. She’d never been more afraid than when James was touching her, refusing to let her go.

If Michael hadn’t been there…

And for so long, Michael hadn’t been there. Had James tried something even a week earlier, there would have been no one to save her.

No one had ever made her feel safe the way Michael did. Not her parents, not her family. No one. She couldn’t bring herself to care about the fact that she was pretty certain Michael had murdered James for touching her. The fear that was still coursing through her brought her pause and she thought good.

She cried for that. For the fact she was hopeful that a man had died, painfully. For how close a call it had been. For not being able to defend herself against that attack and needing someone else to save her.

And Michael just continued to hold her through her tears, occasionally offering reminders that she was safe. That he would never hurt her, that he wouldn’t let anyone else hurt her ever again.

How could James, who was considered to be a good, easy-going guy by everyone, have done something so vile while Michael, who didn’t seem to give a flying fuck if everyone on Outpost dropped dead tomorrow, present company excluded, had saved her? And comforted her?

Maddie felt her breath hitch as her tears began to subside.

Fear had been replaced by security.

Even so, a new emotion began rising to the forefront. Humiliation. For Michael to have seen her so weak… for her to have cried all over him. She swallowed back the fresh pain of knowing he had seen her so low.

She hiccuped softly and Michael offered her a handkerchief. She had no idea where he had gotten it from but she no longer felt the need to question him. He deserved a little more trust considering just how good he had been to her.

She blew her nose and wiped her eyes. When she was done, the handkerchief vanished into the air.

Michael reached for her face, tilting her chin up so he could look at her.

Maddie felt the flush stain her cheeks but she forced herself to hold his gaze, even through soaking lashes and what was likely blotchy skin.

“What can I do?” he asked and her heart ached.

He was too good to her.

“Nothing,” she said, her voice rough with emotion. “You’ve already done so much…”

Michael shook his head. “None of that. Please. What can I do for you?” At her silence, he pushed, “I can get you something to eat or drink. I can distract you. I can draw you a bath.”

The last was the most appealing but an impossibility.

“We don’t have the water rations on this Outpost for a bath.”

Michael huffed, reaching out his hand. She watched as a tiny rainstorm gathered six inches up from his palm and began to pour into his hand.

“And if you weren’t concerned about water rations?” Michael teased, his tone lightening.

It made her smile. She couldn’t help it as she turned back to him and nodded. “A bath would be good.”

Kissing her head, he untangled himself from her and got out of the bed. He walked over to a door just off his bedroom and left it open so she could see as he gathered a similar storm over the bathtub.

It sounded like rain falling and, in a way, it was.

She pushed up from the bed and followed him into the bathroom. She watched as the tub filled. The little droplets caused ripples, crashing into one another.

Steam rose from the water and she could feel the heat warming the bathroom.

A bath was such an unbelievable luxury, she almost couldn't fathom it.

"We should take you on tour," she muttered.

She felt ridiculous and clingy but she wrapped her arms around his middle. Michael didn't seem to mind, setting his own arm around her.

"Wine?" He offered but she shook her head, not wanting to let go.

She'd never been particularly needy. She was too touch-repulsed for that. It was a strange sensation to crave the touch and presence of another with all that she was.

And Michael, who was far more antisocial than her, took it all in stride.

Almost as if he could read her mind, he asked, "Do you want me to stay or go?"

"Stay. Please."

“Good.”

She smiled, relieved.

It was nice to know, the midst of her own pain and confusion, that he was just as crazy when it came to her as she was for him.

Reluctantly, she pulled away and turned around. She meant what she said-- she didn’t want him to leave but somehow, in her exhausted state, it had slipped her mind that she needed to be naked for the tub.

Maddie raised her chin. Fuck it. He’d already seen the most intimate parts of her. And she hadn’t let Michael intimidate her yet. She’d be damned if she started now.

She unbuttoned her dress down to her waist before letting it fall to the floor, leaving her in the fitted slip and underwear that passed as lingerie in Venable’s new world.

Summoning her courage or, more accurately, her ability to block out the part of her brain that controlled shame and self-preservation, she disposed of those, too.

She leaned down the ivory claw-footed tub and touched the water to test it. She noticed the way Michael breathed sharply and she smiled.

The water was perfect. She couldn’t have drawn it better if she had tried. Hot, but not scalding. She breathed in the steam and was surprised to find it scented like roses. Michael was just full of surprises.

Maddie stepped into the tub carefully, slowly letting herself sink down into the water. At once, her body seemed to relax, the tension easing away. Hugging her knees to her chest, she looked back.

Michael was watching her, his eyes dark. He was still fully dressed. His body was stiff and he stood perfectly still as he watched her. She swallowed under his scrutiny.

“Are you coming?” she asked with far more confidence than she felt.

His face was stone as he blinked and his clothes vanished. She kept her gaze locked on his as he stepped behind her. She moved forward slightly, making room to accommodate him. The water rose as he slipped in, stretching out his legs on either side of her.

He brushed her hair around so that it all fell down her right shoulder. His arm went around her, just below her breasts, settling her against him as Michael relaxed back against the edge of the tub.

She was draped across his bare chest, her head resting on his shoulder. His arm kept her from slipping and Maddie couldn’t help but sigh contentedly.

He kissed her temple.

“You have no idea how much I needed this,” she said, reveling in the feel of him and the warmth from the water.

“How was the rest of your day?”

“I’ve had worse, but…”

“But?”

“I’ve had better,” she admitted. “Lowlights from today, what happened tonight notwithstanding, include dealing with the fallout of your little Latin communique this afternoon and two hours of dealing with Coco and Gallant, which peaked when Coco asked me if you enjoyed analingus.”

Michael chuckled. “What did you tell her?”

“I told her to ask you, herself.”

She was facing away but she could practically see him wince. “Thanks for that.”

“Least I could do. You, somehow, knocked me out for two hours of sleep and I’ve dealt with eighty hours of the inquisition as a result.”

“It’s been less than forty,” he noted offhandedly.

Maddie glanced over her shoulder. “Don’t test me, Langdon.”

“Never,” he agreed.

She leaned back against him, closing her eyes again. “And I will get you back for the mess this afternoon. What’d you think was going to happen when you burst into a dead language in front of half the Outpost?”

He smiled at the memory. “Well, I was hoping you would take my offer to get you away from all of them. I could have saved you from all that backlash but you were too proud. In fact,” Michael reached down to her left hand. He picked it up from out of the water and tugged it back until it reached his mouth. He nipped her forefinger. “I believe you told me to bite you.”

Her lips twitched at the memory. The way he had slowly smiled at her words and rude gesture, teasing her back that later, he would.

It had been worth the bullshit question she’d been asked as a result to see him smile like that, just for her.

The things she would do for him, put up with for him, astounded her.

"I should have known how you would have taken that particular sentiment," she teased. "You have a dirty, dirty mind."

"Only for you, mu anassa."

She smiled at the endearment. Ancient Greek for my queen. Then she blinked.

He had used it once before, earlier that night, but she had missed it.

But the first time he had called her that was in her dream, when he was taunting to tell him where to touch her.

A coincidence?

That Michael would use such an obscure term to describe her both in her dreams and in real life? No, she didn't think so.

Mark joining dreams down as another ability possessed by the great Michael Langdon.

She was very glad to be on his good side.

"Tell me about your day," she said, wondering if he ever had someone close enough to ask him such mundane questions.

His arm tightened slightly, telling her he really didn't have anyone like that.

"Started well. I had a library date with a pretty girl," he whispered in her ear. His words brought a smile to her face. "Unfortunately, it all went down from there. Dull interview after dull interview. Blank stare after blank stare."

"You just hate everybody, don't you?"

"Hate requires a certain level of care. I am entirely apathetic to the matter."

"May I ask you something?"

"Of course."

She turned in the tub so that she was on her side. Better able to look at him and see the way his blond hair framed his face. It glowed like a halo in the candlelight.

"Why did you come here? You run the Cooperative. Checking on the Outposts and judging who is fit for Sanctuary seems… I don't know. Like something you'd pawn off on a lackey."

He raised a hand, rubbing circles on her back. "You have me all figured out, don't you, little one?"

She shook her head. "I'm afraid I've barely scratched the surface."

"You're right, of course. I typically prefer to delegate, but I'm not omnipotent nor am I all-knowing. In my life, I've had a handful of others who's counsel I take. Two trusted advisors, who I trust above all others. You will meet them both soon. And two creatures that I simply cannot seem to deny anything. My father is one of them."

Her eyes sparkled with curiosity. "Your father is alive?"

His lips twitched. "Like a cockroach, I truly believe that my father could survive anything."

She thought back to everything he had told her about his life growing up. She already wasn't the biggest fan of the man but the way Michael talked about him made it seem as if he were rather ambivalent.

"You don't sound too fond of him."

"We're alike in many ways. A fact that is often to our detriment. He was the one who told me to check on the Outposts. In hindsight, I'm glad he did. It was on my to-do list but I kept putting it off." He gazed at her with reverence. "I will forever regret taking so long to find you, Madeline. And I will spend an eternity making it up to you."

There was remorse in his voice. True remorse. None of the false inflections he used when he spoke with Venable or any of the others on the Outpost.

It tugged at her heart.

"And if I told you that you have nothing to make up for?"

"I would disagree. And I would make up for it anyway."

Her lips twitched. "An eternity, huh?"

Michael nodded, looking quite serious. "I'm afraid so."

The thought warmed her and she laid her head on his broad chest. His other arm wrapped around her, encasing her. She was never safer than in his arms.

Her hand laid on his sternum, her fingers teasing him softly.

"Who's the other?" she asked, almost as an afterthought.

"Pardon?"

"You said there were two people you can't say no to. One of them is your father. Who is the other?"

He gave her a pointed stare. "I think it should be quite obvious."

Her heart stuttered in her chest.

An eternity with Michael Langdon sounded pretty damn good.

#michael langdon #michael langdon x oc #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon x named reader #ahs8 #american horror story apocalypse #apocalypse #mallory (ahs)#coco st. pierre vanderbilt #mr. gallant #ms. venable #ahs fanfic

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grilledcheeseandguavajelly · 4 years

Text

“All The Echoes In My Mind Cry, There’s Blood On Your Lies” - Cordelia Goode x Reader x Wilhemina Venable

Prompt: 11 - Angst Prompt List - “Don’t cry. Everything’s going to be okay” + 12 - Angst Prompt List - “Who did this? Who hurt you?”

Words: ~12,000

Warnings: Sexual assault and a LOT of overthinking. Listen, I took this angst prompt seriously. You’ve been warned.

Requested by: @darling-dontforgetme

You thumbed through your notifications, rolling your eyes.

It was just one picture. One tiny picture with one tiny caption, and it honestly shouldn’t have blown up the way it did.

Since you had checked your phone about six minutes ago, there were twenty-five new comments. Of those twenty-five, two of them were positive. One from a childhood friend, congratulating you on being so happy, and one from Madison, Madison of all people, saying a short “congrats or whatever” and commenting on Cordelia’s shirt not matching her pants.

The rest were all relatively the same, some version of “ew” or “disgusting” or “blocked.”

Your phone vibrated and you swiped to your messages. And you rolled your eyes again because Madison was being as impatient as always.

This place blows, where are you?

Almost there, two blocks away.

I’m going to kill Foxxy for making you walk me home.

Want to meet me out front?

No, let me at least finish my fucking drink.

And as another comment on your picture dinged, she texted you again.

Bouncer was easy, you should be able to walk right by him the way he caved under my spell

You typed back a quick okay and flicked back to the comments on your picture. This one was from your cousin.

Who’s the redhead with her tongue down your throat? Why have I never met her? ;)

You rolled your eyes, dread running through you because you knew he meant it in the absolute wrong way. But just as you were about to respond with something that was probably too possessive, someone rammed into you from behind.

You had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. Not the best option on a Saturday night in New Orleans. You gave a soft apology and the man grumbled as he shuffled past you and into the crowd just ahead.

And then you pocketed your phone, comment abandoned as you zeroed in on the club across the street and made your way over.

Madison was right, the bouncer was easy. The crowds lined up and waiting to get in were not. There were too many people to push through just to get inside, and you were breathless by the time you reached the entrance.

Lord, you hated this city sometimes.

You slid past the bouncer without a second glance, shouldering the door open and wincing at the loud bass that thrummed through your skin.

It was a huge club, and honestly you didn’t know how it fit into this cramped little city. But here it was, filled to the brim with glitter and cocktails and pulsing bodies. The beat pounded at the back of your neck and you could already feel a headache coming on, so you flicked your messages opened and started making your way to what could only be the VIP lounge.

And of course, it was all the way across the dance floor.

Shit.

You did your best to push through the crowd of bodies, sticking to the outskirts of the dance mob and trying to keep your eyes pinned on the steps leading up to the roped off section of the club. But no sooner had you made it past the bar, caught a glimpse of Madison and texted her to tell her that you were there, then a hand wrapped around your arm and hauled you to your right.

You tripped over yourself, dropping your phone, and by the time you caught your footing you were halfway down a dark hallway, a red light illuminating couples writhing against each other on the walls.

“What the—“ you tried, ripping at the hand on your arm and yanking away. But you had barely gotten your hand around the fingers bruising into your skin when you heard a rough, “Calm down, it’s just me.”

And everything inside of you shot ice cold.

You looked up, terror freezing your attempts to get away.

“J-James?” you stuttered out as he spun you and slammed you up against a free space on the wall.

And he was over you in a second, mouth hot in your ear.

“James, get off of me,” you tried weakly, pushing at him. Shoving at him. But he was so heavy.

“Did you miss me, baby?�� he growled, and his breath was hot and sticky and smelled of tar.

“Let me go,” you tried again as you scratched at his shoulders. “Let me go.”

His hand found your arm again and he slammed you back against the wall, hard enough that your head snapped back and the crack rang through your skull.

“S-Stop,” you said as forcefully as you could, stars blurring your vision. “Stop it James, what the fuck are you doing?”

“I know you missed me, honey,” he whispered in your ear, and you could feel his sickening smirk against your skin. “Come on. Let me make you feel good. Like I used to. What are the odds that we both show up here on the same night?”

You screamed, shoving at his shoulders harder and harder until your breaths pulled uneven and ragged. “Get off.”

“You know you want this.” And now his voice was snaking into your ears, hot and low and venomous. But you had lost track of his head, of his mouth. It was dark and the lights were flashing and your head was still spinning from the impact on the wall.

You felt his mouth ghost over your neck and you growled, kicking at his shins.

“Get off of me, James. I’m not yours anymore. I don’t belong to you. I don’t want this.”

And then the tears came, flooding what was left of your broken vision as your voice cracked and his hands slid up your waist.

“Oh, I know,” he murmured, and his mouth was back by your ear. “I saw your little post. Got yourself two girlfriends, hm? Maybe you should call them? Ask if they want to join us. The tall one seems a little stiff, but I’m sure I could loosen her up.”

There it was. The last straw. And as he slammed his mouth against yours, hot and wet and bitter, you shoved as hard as you could, pushing him off of you and smacking him straight across the face.

“Enough!” you screamed.

His hand came down across your cheek before you could blink, and you hadn’t realized he was holding a drink until he hit you square in the stomach, made you fly back against the wall, and his hand came down across your face again, glass breaking as his drink collided with you skull.

You crumpled, a shriek ripped from you, and cowered against the wall.

Small. Shaking. And helpless.

There were at least twenty people down this hallway, and none of them were doing anything. None of them heard you screaming for help. None of them cared.

You were trapped.

James’s foot came up, and you barely had time to register it slamming into your side before the breath was knocked out of you again.

“S-Stop,” you tried, and you sounded pitiful but at this point, you would beg. You would plead. You would do anything to get him away from you.

He crouched down to your level, face inches from yours. You blinked against tears and something hot dripping onto your nose.

And you gasped when his hand yanked your knees apart and slid straight between your thighs.

“This is mine,” he growled, squeezing too hard. You cried out. “And I don’t care how many women you sleep with, it will always be mine. Do you understand?”

You choked on a gasp and then his other hand was on your throat, squeezing so tightly that your vision started going black around the edges.

Instinct kicked in and you reached out blindly, hand fumbling on the ground for something, anything.

A sharp sting and you wrapped your fingers around the object, grabbed a shard from his broken glass. But before you could slam it into his skin there was a sickening choking sound and the grip on your throat loosened just enough for you to blink your vision back.

James was gagging in front of you, eyes bugging out of his head as his tongue curled back and back and back again.

His hands dropped from you to claw at his throat and his face reddened.

“What are you doing to me, you stupid bitch?” he choked out, and you pushed yourself farther against the stone wall, eyes wide as his eyes rolled back and he collapsed onto the ground.

And you almost reached out to him. Almost lost all sense and went to check that he was okay. But then Madison crouched down in front of you, eyes scouring every inch of you.

“Are you okay?” she started, pushing hair off of your forehead as she checked you over. Her hand was red when she pulled it away. “What did he do to you?”

You couldn’t find your voice, raspy whimpers the best you could manage as you shook against the adrenaline coursing through you.

She nodded like she understood you and grabbed your hands.

“Come on, let’s get you home. It’s okay, you’re safe now.”

As she pulled you out of the hallway and around the corner, pressing your phone into your hand, you glanced back behind you against your better judgement. And there he was, coughing and sputtering and lifting himself off the ground.

A piece of you broke at the fact that Madison hadn’t choked the life out of him. That he hadn’t gotten what he deserved. What you should have done, if you had remembered anything you had learned.

If you were any kind of witch at all.

~~~

You pushed your pleas at Madison as she helped you up the steps to the academy and she rolled her eyes, hands tightening as you winced and wobbled.

“I get it. Sneak you up to your room. Extra quiet. Don’t let Cordelia know.”

“And don’t tell Venable,” you finished, breathless by the time you hit the landing. “I don’t even want to think about what she would do if she found out.”

Madison paused by the door, eyes narrowing. “You’re going to have to tell them eventually,” she said softly, licking her thumb and swiping at your forehead. You had felt the scab bust when you were about a block from the house, but a tingling followed Madison’s thumb and you knew she had sealed it shut again.

“I know,” you panted softly. “But just not now. Not tonight. I can’t…”

You lost your breath, the events of the night flooding back into your mind. You shook your head, trying to find words, trying to explain, trying to ask Madison to promise you that she would let you tell them in your own time.

But before anything came out Madison nodded, wrapping her arm around your waist.

“Deep breath,” she mumbled, and then she pushed the door open.

You had barely crossed the threshold when her arm fell from your waist and you wobbled. She muttered a soft “shit”, and when you looked up your heart dropped into your stomach.

Cordelia and Wilhemina were standing at the base of the stairs, Mina mumbling something soft to Cordelia and stroking her hand. When the door slid opened they both looked up, Cordelia’s hand falling from Mina’s fingers as she locked eyes with you.

“Oh my god,” she breathed, and the blood drained from your head. The room spun, and the next thing you knew you were on the floor, Cordelia’s hands on your shoulders.

She hovered above you, hair falling from behind her ear, and she was talking to you, but as you blinked back stars all you could hear were Madison and Mina. Mina firmly asking Madison what had happened. Madison blowing her off as usual. Madison rushing up the stairs. And the tapping of Mina’s cane as she chased after her.

Cordelia’s hand on your cheek centered you.

“Oh my darling girl, what happened to you?”

You shook your head, wincing as your propped yourself up on your elbows. That blow to your side had stuck harder than you initially thought.

“Nothing happened, Delia,” you tried, throat sticky from screaming and crying and swallowing down terror. She stared at you, eyes narrowing as her thumb brushed your cheek, and you knew she wouldn’t stand for that. Knew that she deserved more than you blowing her off. So you added a soft, “I just fell” at the end. And after a moment’s hesitation, she gave you a small smile, nodding.

“Okay,” she started, but there was something behind her eyes that you couldn’t read. “How about we get you cleaned up?”

~~~

You had asked to bathe by yourself, but Cordelia had pushed just enough and hesitated in the doorway, and you couldn’t help it. You caved.

She sat next to the bathtub as you curled in on yourself, her finger tracing absent circles in the water.

“People don’t usually get this banged up from falling,” she tried again, probably the eighth way she had phrased the same question that night. But you hadn’t had time to process anything, and you wanted to at least run it through your own mind a few times before you got them involved. Before you had two other people telling you how careless you had been and how disappointed they were in you.

“Okay,” you mumbled softly. Cordelia’s brow pushed up and she made to say something, but then there was a soft knock at the door and Mina’s voice floated through.

“It’s me. May I come in?”

Cordelia flicked her free hand and the door opened, and then Wilhemina was looming in the doorway, eyes piercing through you as she shut the door behind her.

She walked over slowly, leaning her cane on the sink before sitting carefully on the edge of the tub.

You averted your gaze to your knees, tucking them further up against your chest, but not before you caught Mina reaching for Cordelia’s free hand.

You squeezed your eyes shut, dropping your head to your knees and hugging them. This was your fault. They were both so worried and it was becoming such a thing and you hadn’t asked for any of this, but you knew if you told them everything would be so much worse.

“What happened?” Mina asked, and the way her voice dropped, the softness there, you thought she was talking to you. But before you could blow her off Cordelia answered, voice breathless in that slight tell of her annoyance.

“She won’t tell me.”

Mina hummed. “Madison wouldn’t tell me, either.” She shifted, and then her finger was under your chin, pulling your gaze to hers. “Are you going to tell me, princess? Or am I going to have to get it out of you another way?”

Her lip twitched up at the corner and you knew exactly what that smirk meant, but then James’s mouth overtook your thoughts. The smell of it, the feel of it, the taste of it.

The room spun and the bath was too hot and your stomach twisted, but you swallowed it down. Forced it all down. Because they couldn’t know. They couldn’t know that you had failed so miserably in such a crucial way.

You were a disgrace of a witch, and they would never look at you the same way if they only knew just how much you had let them down.

A tear fell, and before you could swipe at it Cordelia’s thumb was there, brushing it away.

“What’s wrong, darling?” Cordelia tried again, and the way her voice shook made guilt shoot through you. “Just… talk to us. Please…”

Mina reached over and stroked her fingers through Cordelia’s hair, and Cordelia smiled sadly up at her in appreciation. And in that moment, that split second on the precipice of caving, you realized that what they had was so much bigger than you.

You had been naive before, so giddy and excited and idiotically smitten with both of them. And just yesterday you had gotten their permission to post a photo of the three of you, both of them kissing you. But as much as they spoiled you and pampered you and made you feel so special and precious in the bedroom, they hadn’t signed up for this. They didn’t need this in their lives. They had been a perfectly happy couple before taking you into their bed, and that kind of fun didn’t lend itself to this level of drama.

So you bit down on your lip, wrapping your arms around your legs and hugging them to you. Sighed.

“I told you. I fell. That’s all. It’s not a big deal.”

And after a long moment of Cordelia and Mina looking between each other and you, Mina got up, swiping her cane and skirting out the door.

Cordelia cleared her throat. “I don’t know what you’re not telling us, but it’s alright. If you say that you fell, then I believe you.”

You let out a long breath, closing your eyes and nodding.

“Thank you.”

And you meant it, because the relief of that pressure being gone, knowing they would let it rest for the time being, if not for good, was enough to pull some of the terror from around your heart and let you breathe again.

“Now, darling,” Cordelia murmured, finger lifted from the water and tracing ever so lightly down your arm, “where do you hurt?”

~~~

Cordelia’s arm twitched on your waist and you flinched, James’s hand flashing through your mind.

It had been like this for hours. You didn’t know exactly how long because you could’t see the clock on the nightstand, but long enough for both Wilhemina and Cordelia to fall asleep on either side of you, and for you to have had at least three small panic attacks after that.

They had both been very considerate, Mina’s fingers pulling skillfully through your hair as Cordelia skimmed her fingers over your ribs.

“Are they feeling better?” Cordelia asked, and you nodded, thanking her again for whatever touch of magic she had put in that water that made all of your broken bits mend up a little quicker. At least the physical ones.

But now, as you lay between these two perfect women and the world heated up, degree by agonizing degree, you couldn’t help but taste the thick air of that hallway. Every time you closed your eyes you saw the red lighting. Saw his face. Every time Mina nudged against you, you felt his hands, his mouth. And when she grumbled in her sleep, pressing a soft kiss to your head, you felt his hand come down across your face. Heard the glass shattering, again and again and again.

Eventually it was too much. You couldn’t breathe and you couldn’t think and you needed space to just be. So you crawled carefully out from under the covers and off of the bed. You tiptoed to the door, opening it, and glanced behind you as Mina rolled over, whining and reaching into the empty space. And you almost paused. Almost smiled. But then her hands met Cordelia’s side and Cordelia was in her arms in a second, tucked up under her chin and legs twined together. Like you hadn’t even been there. Like they didn’t realize you were gone.

You had been so caught up with the privilege of being between them that you hadn’t realized how perfectly they fit together without you there.

Without you.

And as you crawled into your own bed, under your ice cold, dusty sheets, you let yourself cry because you just wanted to make them proud. You just wanted to be good enough for one of them, let alone both. And you had utterly, miserably failed.

~~~

You woke to your phone ringing, and you swiped your thumb over the screen before registering that it was your mother.

“Hello?” you mumbled sleepily, sitting up and scrubbing the exhaustion out of your eyes. She was ranting before you had pulled the phone to your ear.

“—and I don’t pay thousands of dollars each month for you to fall into this kind of nonsense. And with the headmistress? Really? I had no idea, honestly. No idea. But this will not stand. I don’t want you here, but you’re sure as hell not staying there. Not if that’s what they’re telling you is okay. I’m going to call your father tonight and then you’re going to be put in some sort of psych ward. It’s what we should have done in the first place. Some nice, white padded walls. That’ll sort you out—“

You hung up quickly, phone falling from trembling fingers.

No. No, no, no.

You sat frozen on your bed for a long moment, visions of your mother screaming at you, yanking you awake as you floated above your bed, the way she had practically shoved her money at Cordelia and left you shaking and fighting tears in the middle of the lobby.

But in the four months or so that you had been studying here, you had found your family. Your friends. For the first time in your life you felt like you belonged somewhere.

With them.

You shook the thought away, steeling yourself against everything that had happened the night before and resolving yourself to the fact that they wouldn’t want you anymore.

And as you felt another panic attack settling in, you slid out of bed, changing into something clean and fresh. But somehow, even with fresh clothes and a nice bath and a few hours of sleep, you still felt dirty as you plodded quietly down the stairs to the kitchen and turned on the light.

It was unnaturally early and none of the other girls would be up for at least an hour. Which gave you plenty of time to make yourself a cup of coffee and sort out your brain.

But no sooner did you have a steaming mug in your hand and were just relishing the first sleep-clearing sip, then you heard something shuffle behind you.

You whipped around, James’s face flashing through your mind.

It was Madison.

You let out a long breath, hand coming to your heart.

“Jeez, Madison. You scared the shit out of me.”

She skirted around you, pouring herself a cup of your coffee.

“You’re not going to finish this, right?” she asked mockingly, and then she was settled down at the kitchen table, knees tucked up on her chair. She looked at you for a long moment and you blinked back. “Are we going to talk about last night, or…?”

You waved her off, making your way across the kitchen. But you stopped in the doorway, guilt washing through you.

“I-“ you tried, turning to face her. “Thank you for helping me. And for letting me tell Delia and Mina.”

Madison made a face, and you mentally scolded yourself because you knew she hated those little nicknames. You cleared your throat.

“Seriously. Thank you.”

She stared at you, and when she spoke her voice was flat. “So you told them?”

You nodded. A lie.

“Both of them?”

You rolled your eyes. “Madison, if one of them knows, it’s safe to assume they both do. You know how they are.”

And you chuckled softly at your own joke, but she wasn’t laughing. Her eyes searched your face. “You’re sure you told them?”

Another nod.

She hummed, sipping her coffee.

“What?”

Her eyebrows raised over her mug. “Nothing. It’s just my bedroom is close enough to theirs that I can usually hear everything you weirdos do. And it was pretty quiet last night.”

You swallowed hard. “They wanted to give me space.”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

And you relaxed for a split second before she spoke again.

“And that’s why you went back to your own room, right?”

You snapped your eyes to hers and she was challenging you, all wiggled down in her seat like a snake that was about to strike.

“That’s none of your business,” you tried weakly. She smirked.

“Alright.”

And your brow furrowed as you nodded. “Alright.”

~~~

You walked down the street, bundling your coat tighter around you and stuffing your nose into your scarf. It was cold, despite everything, and the icy wind was doing wonders to clear your head.

You had volunteered to go on errands today, and insisted that you go alone when Cordelia offered to go with you. She hadn’t pushed, and you had been grateful. But the two or three stops you were planning on making had turned to seven, the mindless shopping and browsing doing wonders to clear your head. You were grateful for the space. The privacy. The ability to get away from Cordelia and Mina for a day and just breathe.

It had only taken a fraction of a second. One man that got a little too close to you as he passed by you in an aisle.

And suddenly you were acutely aware that you were utterly alone. Unprotected. Vulnerable.

After that you saw him everywhere, tall and solid and looming. His brown hair bobbing through crowds, his face in strangers that passed by you.

You rushed to the grocery store, desperate to get the last of your errands done and swearing that you could feel his gaze on you. Hear his voice. And as you pulled fruits and vegetables and all of Madison’s ridiculous requests into your bags, you realized that he could be anywhere. Anyone. You could run smack into him on the street and he could drag you away and no one would know what had happened to you—

Stop.

You forced a deep breath in as you handed your groceries to the cashier, foot bouncing. Cordelia would always find you. Cordelia would always be there for you. Cordelia wouldn’t let him hurt you again.

Except she didn’t know he had hurt you in the first place.

Except now everything was different.

And you were alone.

The fear racked its way back up your throat as you walked determinately back to the school, heart hammering faster with every step. And as your pulse quickened so did your steps, until you were practically running from the ghost of his memory. Sprinting as far away from the idea of him as fast as you could.

The pounding of your shoes on the pavement morphed into the pounding of the bass in the club. The light from the setting sun tinted too red as you remembered the flashing lights. And his hands. His hands everywhere…

By the time you reached the school you were out of breath, cheeks wet from tears you hadn’t realized had fallen. You yanked the gate open, not bothering to shut it behind you as you blinked around your blurred vision.

You could feel him behind you, even though you knew he wasn’t there. Could feel him breathing down your neck.

You ran up the front steps to the academy, pushing away thoughts of him wandering the city. The fact that you could run into him at any point on any given day. The fact that you weren’t safe.

The doors to the house swung open as you hit the landing and Kyle greeted you with a small smile, but it quickly melted off his face as you pushed by him and forced the doors shut.

“I’m fine, Kyle,” you said in response to his unasked question. But the way your breaths were coming out of you, ragged and short and strangled from running, you knew it didn’t sound believable.

“Can you take these to the kitchen?”

His eyes caught your shaking hands as he took the bags from you and he frowned, but you brushed him off, heading straight for the stairs.

You just needed a minute to catch your breath.

And you almost made it.

You were only three steps away from the staircase when Wilhemina’s fingers gripped around your arm, pulling you back against her.

“Where do you think you’re going, sneaking upstairs before saying hello?” she murmured against your ear, and your knees went weak because oh lord, there was no air to breathe in this room. You swallowed around your dry throat, forcing steady breaths out of your lungs. Schooled your features.

But you didn’t turn around.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” you lied. And you should have known better. She could read you like a book, especially when you tried to lie to her. But after a brief pause, fingers twitching on your arm, she let you go.

“Alright little one, just don’t be too long.” Her voice was low and it floated up behind you as you made too quickly for the stairs. “We missed you terribly and Delia made your favorite tonight.”

And you nodded as you fled, retreating to the safety and privacy of the bathroom and forcing deep breaths down as you blinked at yourself in the mirror.

And that’s when the tears came. Hard, heavy, and fast.

You didn’t realize how long you had been crying in there, curled in on yourself and shaking, until one of the girls knocked on the door and told you that dinner was ready.

~~~

They both stared at you through dinner. And it was probably your fault.

For one thing, you hadn’t sat next to either of them, too afraid that if Mina slid her hand over your knee or Cordelia pushed a strand of hair out of your face you would lose it in front of everyone. So you situated yourself safely between Madison and Zoe, whispering with Madison that yes everything was back to normal, and thanking her quietly for not asking too many questions.

Cordelia ate quietly, laughing softly with some of the girls. But you could feel Mina’s eyes on you like a knife, could feel the heat of her gaze with every twitch of your brow or quirk of your lip.

At one point you gathered the courage to look up at them, but neither of them were paying you any attention, Mina’s eyes on Cordelia’s lap as Cordelia whispered in her ear. She nodded slowly as Cordelia slid her hand over Mina’s, and you saw Cordelia’s brow furrow, just so.

~~~

Cordelia caught you after dinner, sidled up against Madison and drying the dishes as she washed them.

“Can I see you in the greenhouse for a moment?” she asked politely, her voice hitting that pitch that it always did when she was around the other girls.

You hesitated, licking your lips slowly before nodding.

And as you left, Cordelia’s hand skating over your lower back, Madison called out, “You don’t have to ask so politely, Foxxy. We all know you’re going to bang her brains out.”

~~~

Wilhemina hit her cane on the stone of the greenhouse floor and you flinched in Cordelia’s arms. She squeezed you tighter to her and you pulled yourself down as small as you could in her embrace.

“You don’t keep secrets from us, princess,” Mina tried again, something like regret flicking across her features at your reaction. “Understood? Just tell us what happened and everything will be okay.”

“We can’t help you if you don’t talk to us, darling,” Cordelia tried, pulling away and holding you at arms length. She searched your eyes and you ducked your head.

“Nothing happened,” you said for the millionth time in the last twenty minutes.

And Cordelia released you this time, eyes finding Mina’s behind you as she swallowed.

“Alright.”

~~~

You planned on changing in the bathroom that night, brushing it off on the fact that you wanted to shower. And this time, when Cordelia offered to join you, you refused.

The water did wonders to clear your head, letting the past days, the past week, the constant nagging, wash off your back as you scrubbed yourself down with soap. And when you stepped out of the tub, wrapping the plush towel around you and swiping the steam off the mirror, you let yourself smile at the fact that you actually felt clean.

You pulled the comb through your hair slowly, relishing the quiet of the bathroom and the sheer space around you. No one pushing in. No one asking questions. No one’s eyes boring into your back as you tried to mind your own business.

But when you reached for your pajamas and your hand hit air, you frowned. You must have left them on their bed.

Shit.

A deep breath, and then you steeled yourself, tucking the towel tightly around yourself and plodding back to Cordelia’s room.

You passed by Coco on the way and she looked you up and down, biting down on a snort. “Someone’s getting lucky tonight, huh?”

You faked a smile, hand frozen on the doorknob. “Go to bed, Coco.”

“Will I be able to sleep? These walls are thinner than you three think.”

“Go to bed, Coco,” you tried again, rolling your eyes.

And then she was off, grumbling something about how she would have already been in bed if you hadn’t taken so long in the shower.

You knocked softly on the door and waited for Cordelia’s muffled “come in” before turning the knob and entering.

She was siting on the edge of the bed, Wilhemina standing next to her as she pulled the pins from her hair. And from the scowls on their faces they had clearly been in some sort of deep conversation.

They both looked up when you entered, Mina dropping her loose pins into Cordelia’s outstretched hand.

“Well, well,” Cordelia started, smirking as her eyes raked over you. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”

You cleared your throat, hugging your towel closer to your chest. You ignored the way Cordelia’s smirk faltered. “I left my pajamas in here. Sorry.”

She shifted on the mattress, crossing her legs as Mina leaned up against the post of the bed and looked at you through lidded eyes. Her brow raised.

“Why on earth are you apologizing, princess?”

And you gaped around words, because you really didn’t know.

“You know,” Cordelia drawled, glancing up at Mina and smirking at the unspoken words between them. “Mina and I were just thinking that it had been quite some time since we spoiled you.” Her hands skimmed down her thighs, fingers playing with the fabric of her nightgown. “And we’ve missed you ever so much.”

James’s voice flooded your mind, making you flinch.

This is mine.

Mina pulled herself off of the bedpost, stalking towards you. And you knew that look. You knew those predatory eyes. You knew what it meant when her fingers twitched on the head of her cane like that. And with every tap against the wood, James’s words rang in your ears.

“You know, you really don’t need that towel.”

Did you miss me, baby?

“Not when you have the two of us to keep you warm.”

I don’t care how many women you sleep with.

“To make you feel good.”

It will always be mine.

“To make you forget about whatever is worrying that pretty little mind of yours.”

Do you understand?

And she was almost to you, just out of arms reach, when you ducked around her and fled to the edge of the bed, scrambling to scoop up your pajamas.

“I-I think I’d rather sleep in my room tonight, if that’s okay.”

And when Cordelia frowned you mumbled some excuse about feeling ill.

“Do you need me to get you anything?” Cordelia tried, hand reaching out to catch your arm as you passed.

But you dodged her too, throwing a “no, it’s alright” behind you as you practically ran from the room.

~~~

“Did you and Foxxy break up?”

You rolled your eyes, flicking to the next page in your book.

“I’m trying to read, Madison.”

She sauntered over, perching on the edge of the couch. “I’m just asking.”

And as she snatched a cigarette out of the holder on the coffee table and lit it, you let your curiosity get the better of you and put your book down.

You sighed. “Why are you asking?”

She shrugged, dragging on her cigarette. “You took the Instagram picture down. You know, the gross one where Venny was practically licking your face.”

And you rolled your eyes again, half at her attitude, half at the nickname. “Not that it’s any of your business,” you started, shifting on the couch and crossing your legs under you, “but no. We didn’t break up.”

She let out a soft “huh”, blowing another puff of smoke. And just when you thought she had let it go and went to grab your book back, she spoke again. “Why’d you take it down?”

And your eyebrows raised in frustration as you looked over at her. “Because I felt like it.”

“That’s bullshit.”

And you flinched at her tone. “What?”

“I said that’s bullshit,” she tried again, dragging the words out sarcastically. “We both know you caved to your awful mother.”

And this time you actually froze. “Madison, what are you talking about?”

The only person who knew anything about your mother was Cordelia, and potentially Wilhemina. Cordelia had met her briefly and whether or not she remembered the woman enough to discuss her with Mina, you couldn’t say. You were definitely careful not to bring her up in conversation. And honestly, they never really asked about your home life. No one did.

There was an unspoken “no pry” policy between the girls, and it made it easier to forget the past and concentrate on your studies.

Madison flicked her cigarette, leaning back on the arm of the couch. “I heard Foxxy talking to her on the phone the other day. Damn, that woman can rant.”

You blinked at her, trying to find the right words. But all you landed on was, “Cordelia was talking to my mother?”

“Yeah, and taking some pretty detailed notes.”

You were off the couch in a second, heading straight for the door. But Madison caught your wrist, cackling.

“Jeez, I was kidding. Relax.”

You paused and seriously considered yanking your hand from her grip and smacking her across the face because honestly. But you took a deep breath instead, setting your jaw as you flopped back down on the couch.

“You’re a fucking prick, you know that?”

Madison hummed. “What are you so afraid of? That your perfect girlfriends will learn about your deep, dark past?”

You sighed. “I don’t have a deep, dark past. As boring as it may sound.”

She scoffed. “Exactly. So what’s the issue?”

You huffed, pushing your hand to your forehead. “She threatened to pull me out of here. Throw me in an institution somewhere and lock me away.”

“Shit…”

You glanced up at Madison, all traces of playful banter gone. She actually looked pale.

“What, no witty comeback?”

She shook her head slowly, studying you. “You know Cordelia would never let that happen, right?”

You waved her off.

“No, I mean it. Even if you weren’t screwing her. You’re one of us. And she would never let that happen.”

And you hated that tears were pricking your eyes. “Maybe before, but not now.”

“Now…?” Madison prompted, swinging her legs over and sliding down onto the couch with you.

When you spoke again, your voice was thick with unshed tears. “I failed, Madison. I couldn’t even defend myself from one stupid guy. I don’t deserve to be here. I don’t…” You swallowed hard. “I don’t deserve them.”

And she actually laughed. “You’re kidding, right? Do you think I knew how to choke a person out after only being here for a few months? You’re not supposed to know how to do that yet. Or really at all, I guess? I don’t know, I stole one of Foxxy’s books a while back.”

You chuckled, tracing the fabric of the couch and picking at it softly. “That’s all fine and good, but—“

Madison cut you off, waving her cigarette in your face. “I swear if you’re about to say that you’re ‘damaged goods’ and whine about how sorry I’m supposed to feel for you, I’m leaving right now.”

You groaned, smacking her hand out of your face and falling back on the couch. “What the hell am I supposed to do, Madison?”

She snorted. “You’re asking me for advice?”

You cackled, scrubbing your hands over your face. “Now do you understand how desperate I am?”

And as she leaned back on the couch and propped her feet up on the arm, dragging on her cigarette, she reached her hand out to you. When you took it, she squeezed. “You can start by saying ‘fuck the haters’.”

You quirked your brow, looking up at her. But she sure as hell looked like she wasn’t joking, and you were willing to do anything at this point. So you cupped your hands around your mouth, dropping your voice a few octaves.

“Fuck the haters.”

“There you go,” Madison laughed, and the two of you went back and forth, saying “fuck the haters” louder and louder as you giggled and smacked at each other.

You didn’t see Cordelia watching you from the doorway. Didn’t see her brow push up as you laughed. Didn’t see her nose twitch against tears as you fell back on the couch, legs kicking at Madison.

Didn’t see her bite her lip as she turned, sighing.

You didn’t see her.

~~~

A soft knock. And you knew she was expecting you, so you weren’t surprised when the door opened of its own accord.

You lingered in the doorway.

“You wanted to see me?”

Cordelia looked up from her desk, pushing the hair off of her face.

“Come on in, beautiful.”

You smiled at her, closing the door behind you. But you couldn’t help the slight tremble in your hands because somehow, in some way, you felt like you were in trouble.

She gestured across her desk. “Sit.”

And yes, you were definitely in trouble, because you hadn’t sat across her desk in months. She always had you sit in her lap. Pushed you against the wall. Sat you up on her desk.

You squirmed in the chair, fingers twitching in your lap. “Did I do something wrong?”

She shook her head, waving you off as she finished writing out some paperwork. She stacked the pages together and set them aside, and then her hands were folded on her desk and she was leaning forward, and you couldn’t read the expression on her face.

You could tell what Mina was thinking by the way she inhaled. Knew the language of Cordelia’s fingers twitching better than speaking. But this past week had proved more difficult, all of their actions and decisions shrouded in some sort of secret code that only they could decipher.

You were utterly lost. And it terrified you.

Cordelia cleared her throat. “I had initially thought that it was Madison that hurt you—”

“What?” you started, but she held her hand up.

“I had initially thought that it was Madison that hurt you, and that’s why you wouldn’t tell Mina or I what happened.”

You shook your head. “She helped me. It wasn’t her fault at all.”

And Delia hummed. “I see that now.”

You nodded softly. Cordelia’s eyes narrowed as she studied you. And after only a few moments you found it difficult to breathe.

It was different on this side of the desk. She was intense. Intimidating. You had never doubted her power, but you had always wondered how this woman who was always so soft and open and pliable with you and Mina could command an entire coven, let alone fight in wars against warlocks and voodoo queens and witch hunters. But now, sitting opposite her and very distinctly feeling like you were in trouble, not to mention that rooted gut feeling that you had let her down and the guilt of having lied to her — your skin was vibrating and your heart was pounding and you suddenly realized precisely why she was the Supreme.

She was power personified.

A powerful presence, a powerful love. A powerful voice. Powerful magic.

She could snap her fingers and make the entire human population bend to its knees. Or maybe it was just you. The other girls didn’t seem to be afraid of her.

“Your mother called me.”

Her words snapped you out of your thoughts. You swallowed.

“Oh?”

A nod. “Do you want to leave this coven?”

Your heart sunk into your stomach, and when you spoke, your voice was smaller than you would have liked.

“Please don’t let her take me.”

You heard the way it came out of your mouth, weak and broken. You saw the way Cordelia’s eyes softened and her brow pulled together. Watched her fingers twitch.

But where she normally would have reached for you, pulled you into her lap and kissed you until you were giggling, ravished you with reassurances, she only cleared her throat and leaned back in her chair.

“Alright. That will be all.”

You blinked at her for a moment, stunned, before standing and thanking her. And as you turned to leave, fighting tears at her casual dismissal as you realized that she was already done with you, that she had already stopped caring, she called your name.

You spun, hope flaring in your chest, but she wasn’t looking at you.

“You should thank Madison. She covered for you well.”

Cordelia dragged her pen through the air as she spoke, waving absently toward the door.

A soft nod as you swallowed, fighting yourself on whether or not you should answer. But Cordelia was already buried back in her paperwork and she clearly didn’t have time for you, especially not when she had already given up. Before she even knew how broken you were. Because you had lied to her. Over and over again.

This was all your fault.

So you turned, wringing your hands as you pulled the door to Cordelia’s office open. You paused in the doorway, working against your better judgement and looking back at her once more.

Nothing. You doubted she even realized you were still there.

You shut the door behind you with a soft click, leaning back against it and steadying your breaths out in the empty hallway, hands shaking against the wood.

That night, for the first time in months, you slept alone in your room without telling either of them where you were going. Without making an excuse. Without any sort of explanation.

And no one came looking for you.

~~~

The next day was impossibly long.

Cordelia and Mina were both out on errands, and they wouldn’t be back until the afternoon. You and Zoe has been left in charge of the girls, but while Zoe led the lessons, all you could do was watch from the corner, mind churning over the past week on an endless loop.

And by the time both women returned that afternoon, you had resolved yourself to studying alone in the kitchen. Cordelia would go straight to her greenhouse if you knew her, and Mina almost always went right to her study to get off of her feet and file whatever paperwork she had collected on their run.

So you startled when one of the younger girls scrambled into the kitchen, bouncing on her toes and looking around nervously.

“Millie?” you tried, putting your book down and walking over to her. “Are you alright?”

She nodded. Shook her head. Nodded again.

“What’s wrong?”

And when she spoke, the words tumbled out of her mouth like she was afraid if she paused they would bite her.

“Ms. Venable said she wants to see you in her room right now and if you’re not up there in two minutes she’s going to come find me and make me scrub the toxic ooze out of the bottoms of Cordelia’s rose pots with no gloves to protect my childlike hands.”

You couldn’t help but smile fondly, because it was honestly adorable how terrified everyone was of Mina. And you could tell Millie was repeating her words verbatim.

“Alright. Thank you, Millie.” You gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder as you made to leave the kitchen. Paused as you heard her panting softly behind you. “And just so you know… Roses don’t produce ‘toxic ooze’. And you don’t have childlike hands.”

You saw her glance down at her fingers, nodding slowly, and then she scrambled out of the room as quickly as she had come.

~~~

It was less than two minutes by the time you made it up to their room, but when you opened the door, Wilhemina and Cordelia were standing in the middle of the space like they had been waiting for hours.

“We need to have a talk,” Mina said, and you braced yourself for what you knew was coming.

“You scared the hell out of Millie,” you deflected. Neither of them laughed.

Instead, Cordelia reached forward and took your hand, pulling you over to the bed and sitting you down on the edge of it. She drew back, fingers falling from yours, and her and Mina exchanged a look that you couldn’t read.

Cordelia wedged her thumb between her teeth as she looked you over, hand on Mina’s arm. And just when you started to brace yourself for your universe to split to pieces as they told you that this was over, just as you started building hard steel walls around your heart, Cordelia spoke.

“Who hurt you?”

Oh.

You almost groaned, annoyed at the fact that they wouldn’t just let it go. But you told yourself that maybe if they were still stuck on it after all this time, maybe it meant that they still cared about you. Maybe you had been wrong. And you certainly weren’t going to jeopardize that now. So you lied. Just like you had hundreds of times in the past week. And you hated the fact that it was almost getting easy.

“No one, Delia. I fell.”

All it took was a glance from Cordelia and Mina stepped forward, fingers twitching on her cane.

“Don’t lie, princess.”

“I’m not lying.”

She scoffed, hard and loud as she tapped her cane down. “See but we think you are, little one.”

And Cordelia hummed, moving to sit next to you on the edge of the bed. “Why have you been avoiding us, darling?”

“I-I haven’t,” you countered weakly, swallowing hard.

Mina tutted, walking over and tipping your chin up. “Lying again. What a naughty girl you are.”

You whimpered, fingers curling in the sheets as Mina’s hand moved to your throat. And she wouldn’t have known. Couldn’t have. But everything inside of you tensed, and you fought to keep yourself grounded in the moment. Refused to let your mind wander to that stupid red hallway.

“Looks like we’re going to have to do this my way,” she continued, tapping at your ankles with her cane. “Over Delia’s lap. Now.”

But Cordelia held up her hand, the heat of her gaze raking over you. You saw her eyes narrow and her brow furrow, and then her fingers were on Mina’s wrist as she pried her hand off of your throat.

“No,” Cordelia said firmly, tugging Mina down onto the bed next to you. “We’re going to do it my way this time.”

A look was exchanged between Cordelia and Mina, and Mina nodded, just so. And then Cordelia was running her hand over your shoulder, fingers pushing and massaging and working their way up to the base of your neck.

“Do you want to tell us what happened?” Cordelia tried again, and you went to protest, but something stopped you.

Cordelia hummed, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“There we go,” she said softly, encouragingly, and your eyes went wide as Mina’s hand found your knee.

“Delia what did you mean when you said—“

Mina cut you off, shushing you and pressing a kiss to your temple.

Something pricked at your nose and you flinched, fingers twisting in the sheets at your side.

Cordelia stroked her hands through your hair, fingers leaving warmth in their wake.

“It’s alright darling, just relax.”

Mina hummed, adjusting herself on the bed. Your eyes fluttered shut at the tap of her cane as she shifted.

“You’re safe here,” Cordelia continued, and you felt Mina’s thumb brush over the dip of your knee. “We just want to help you. Now tell us what happened, beautiful.”

You had barely registered her request when the words pushed out of your mouth.

“I didn’t fall. He hit me,” you started, and your eyes went wide as you dug your teeth into your lip. Cordelia’s brow creased and Mina’s fingers tightened on your knee.

A pause as they looked at each other.

“Who hit you?” Cordelia asked.

“My ex.” Your teeth came down on your lip again, harder this time. You tasted blood.

“And why did he hit you, princess?” Mina’s voice was low. Steady. Surprisingly calm.

“Because he was—“ you started, the words snaking past your teeth before you bit down on your cheek. A deep breath. “Delia, what are you doing to me?”

Her smirk twitched up at the corner, tugged up with her brows as her fingers strung through your hair. “Why did he hit you?”

“Because he was trying to—“ And this time you covered your mouth with your hand, determination locking into your features.

Cordelia furrowed her brow and shook her head, just so. “Don’t fight it honey, it’ll be so much easier if you just tell us what happened.”

“I don’t want to.” And now tears were pricking at your eyes because you knew what she had done. And you knew that you had driven them to this. And you knew that there was no way you could fight it.

“Why not?” It was Mina, thumb brushing over your cheek.

A sniffle. A shaky breath. And then you couldn’t hold onto it anymore and the truth fell out of you.

About how you had failed them, how you had failed as a witch. How he had pushed himself on you. Had hit you over the head with his glass. How Madison had saved you and defended you and covered for you like you had asked. How you were a disappointment. How you understood that they wouldn’t want to be with you anymore. That they didn’t sign up for this.

At some point during your explanation, Cordelia had vaulted off the bed, pacing the room as Mina’s hand rubbed slow circles on your back.

They let you go, let you talk, let you stumble over your thoughts and squeeze every last detail from your memory. And you weren’t sure how long it had taken, but by the time you finished the sun had set and a cool chill was billowing the curtains.

You finished your explanation with a soft “I’m sorry”, more a breath than a final statement. And your body deflated as Mina pressed a kiss to your temple, the weight of the week and the pressure of keeping a secret from them finally lifting from your shoulders as sobs pushed up your throat.

You thought that maybe you had done the right thing, letting everything go. That maybe, somehow, everything would fall back into place. But while Mina’s touches were soft and her mouth was warm as she pressed kisses along your hairline, Cordelia had hardened and a cold energy poured off of her.

“What’s his full name?” Cordelia’s voice was as firm as you had ever heard it, pitched deep and low.

You wiped sloppily at your cheeks and sniffed hard. “James Conroy.”

Mina hummed, and it was almost a growl, but when you looked over at her she smiled reassuringly. “You’re doing great.”

“And his address?”

“I-I don’t know,” you tried, your brain pulling every piece of information you had on him to the forefront of your mind. Pushed the words onto your tongue. “He used to live by the French Quarter, but he might have moved.”

“His full address, Y/N. Now.”

“I—“ you tried, but your voice broke because you really didn’t know. Your mind was blank. Your mouth was empty. There was no other information you could present.

“I said now!” Cordelia whirled on you, fire in her eyes. And Mina’s hand froze on your back.

“Delia,” Mina started, voice low. “She said she doesn’t know. Let it go.”

Cordelia flicked her hand up. Wilhemina’s fingers sprung off of you and flew to her throat, and you watched in horror as her mouth moved around silent words. As she clawed at the soft skin under her jaw, brow creased and hot eyes on Cordelia.

But then your head was whipped back to Cordelia, heat pressing in on your cheeks as you were held in place by an invisible force. Frozen in time.

“Address,” she said again, voice thick and deep.

“I don’t know.” The words left you before you had decided to open your mouth.

“Last known residence.”

“I don’t know.”

“Workplace.”

“I don’t know.”

And your throat was heating up with the rapid fire questions, cheeks pressed in firmly to keep you still as your hands dug into the bedsheets. Found Mina’s thigh and squeezed. You heard a gasping sound and glanced over at Mina, saw her jaw set as the gears turned in her head.

“Physical description,” Cordelia continued, fingers twitching on the outstretched hand holding Mina’s voice in place.

“B-Brown hair,” you choked out, and tears flooded your vision when you felt pressure constrict on your throat. It was starting to hurt, your brain working faster than you could fathom, swimming with information you thought was long forgotten. You could feel Cordelia digging through it, digging through your memories like a hungry animal.

“Eye color.”

“Brown.”

“Height.”

“S-Six foot.”

And her fingers twitched at her side as the invisible fingers on your throat tightened.

“Build.”

“A-Average. Broad shoulders,” you choked out, gasping around the crushing of your windpipe. And then James’s hand was there, pushing you, pinning you, choking you, sliding between your legs.

You gulped down air, struggling to breathe, struggling to think. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you sobbed and snot ran past your lips. It was too hot. It was too much. And your eyes rolled back in your head as every nerve was set on edge.

It all happened so fast.

The world swam in black and red, thoughts and memories whipping across your vision faster than you could comprehend. Cordelia’s voice cracking as she yelled at you, something about not being good enough. Not being enough. And the pieces of her chastisement that you could hear made you scream because you were trying for Christ’s sake. The sound got stuck in your throat, fire against the words that were trying to fight their way out of your mouth. A growl from Cordelia that fell straight inside your brain. Your lungs constricted as everything was pulled from inside of you. And then the sharp rap of Mina’s cane cracked through your mind.

It hit so hard it should have split the wood, and in that second, you were released.

“Enough, Cordelia!”

You gulped down air as your vision came back, and the relief of having the pressure pulled from you made you feel like you were hovering off the bed.

There was a long silence as you sobbed, choking on snot and air and tears. And it wasn’t until you tore your eyes from Cordelia that you realized Mina had an arm across you, blocking you with her body and pushing herself between you and Cordelia.

Cordelia froze, blinking. “I—“ she tried, voice raspy. And her eyes went wide as tears welled. “I…”

She must have still been holding some piece of you, however small. Because in that moment, whatever spell was still on you broke and you crumpled in on yourself, doubling over Mina’s arm and curling against her side as you gasped and sobbed into your knees.

And when Mina spoke again, you could barely hear her low voice through the sound of your sniffling, your face buried too far into her shoulder.

“That’s enough.”

A long silence stretched. You felt Mina move softly with her breaths, hand stroking your thigh. But she was stiff. Too tall. Challenging.

And after what felt like an eternity you heard the heavy click of heels, a soft “Mina…” Felt Mina shake her head slowly. And then the door slammed.

Mina took a deep breath, shoulders falling just so as she sighed.

“Alright, princess. It’s okay. She’s gone. It’s just me.”

She pressed a kiss to the top of your head and then she was pulling her arm from your grip and sliding her hand across your cheek, tugging your face from behind her shoulder.

“Come on, little one. Look at me.”

You sniffed, leaning into her touch as you let her pull your face to hers and press a soft kiss to your lips. Your eyes fluttered open, vision blurred by tears that were still falling.

“No no, princess. Don’t cry,” she started, brow furrowed as her eyes searched yours. “Everything is going to be okay.”

You sniffed, wiping at you cheeks. And the way she was looking at you, so worried. So tenderly. She had only looked at you that softly once before, after the first time she had used her cane on you. You wouldn’t have even noticed if you hadn’t squinted your eyes open that night after she thought you had fallen asleep. But as much love as she normally poured over you, this look was something different.

And suddenly you felt very small and very, very stupid.

You straightened, clearing your throat and sniffing against more tears.

But Mina knew what you were doing and her fingers were instantly in your hair, scratching your scalp in that way that always put you straight to sleep.

“Shh, princess,” she cooed, tipping your chin up. And you fought to avoid her gaze, but her fingers twitched and she whispered your name, and when you met her eyes she smiled. “You don’t need to do that.”

You shook your head, brushing her off, but her fingers tightened on your chin, just so, and your eyes snapped back to hers. “You don’t do that with me, okay?” A pause. “Ever.”

You gulped, sniffing as fresh tears welled in your eyes.

And when Mina spoke again, her voice was low. Hoarse. “Please don’t do that with me. If you’re not okay, tell me. If something happens, tell me. You scared the hell out of us.”

You choked on a whimper, sobs pushing up your throat. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. But she cut you off.

“No, no. Don’t apologize.” A soft kiss to your forehead. “Just don’t shut us out. Okay?”

You nodded softly. “Okay.”

“I love you,” she said softly, brushing a strand of hair from your eyes. “And Delia loves you, too. That’s the only reason she lost control.”

You sniffled at her words, and this time when the tears fell onto your cheeks you weren’t sure if they were fresh or bottled up somewhere from before.

“You’re not going to leave me?” Your hands fidgeted in your lap and you picked a point on Mina’s dress to study, too afraid of what would happen if you were looking her in the eye and she said yes.

“What? I—“ Mina cut off, trying to catch your gaze. “Who told you that? Was it Madison, because I swear—“

You shook your head, swiping at your tears. “No, I just... figured you wouldn’t want me if I was...” A sniff, and the words got caught in your throat but you pushed them out. “If I was broken like this...”

Mina’s eyes went wide as her brow furrowed and she let out a soft “oh, no no” before licking her lips and swallowing.

Her hand fell from your chin and she shifted, patting her lap. “Come here.”

She helped you lean over, still shaking from the vice grip Cordelia had on you earlier, and you rested your head on her lap, curling up on the edge of the bed. Her hand was back on your thigh in an instant, tracing soft circles as her fingers carded through your hair and over your scalp.

“Relax, little one.”

And you barely had time to nod, to sigh against the love her fingers were pushing into you, before your eyes grew heavy and you were lulled into a deep sleep.

~~~

Soft voices woke you from dreams of Cordelia’s hair and Mina’s hands, and you whined softly as you shifted, waiting for one of them to grab you and pull you close. Reaching for their heat.

Nothing.

You shifted in bed and noted that you had been tucked under covers and that there were plush pillows fanned around you. But you didn’t open your eyes, sinking back into that soft twilight of warmth and peace between sleep and consciousness.

At the rustling of the sheets the voices paused and you froze, face buried in your pillow. After a moment they continued, though, and you smiled to yourself at the warmth that threaded through you from those voices alone. The sense of safety and security that the sound brought with it.

“You need to eat.”

“I’m not leaving her, Mina.”

“Then let me bring something up—“

“No, I’m… No.”

A pause, a dissatisfied hum, and Cordelia spoke again.

“Where was he?”

You frowned.

“Madison found him scrounging some bar. She might not be much, but she sure can pick an asshole out of a crowd.”

A soft chuckle, and then a long silence.

“What’s wrong, little duck?”

Cordelia took a shaky breath.

“I feel like I failed her…”

You heard Mina’s cane tap, heard fabric shuffle.

“You found him, you did everything you could do.”

When Cordelia spoke again she sounded so small. Her voice wavered. “But I wasn’t there for her. I— We weren’t there for her, Mina. Our girl. She was scared and she was hurt and she was alone—“

Her voice cracked and you heard shuffling, and you propped yourself up in the bed as heat flooded your cheeks.

Cordelia sat in the plush chair by the window, sunlight streaming in and turning her hair to gold. Her head was buried in Mina’s stomach as Mina smoothed her hands over her back, shushing her and cooing at her and holding Cordelia against her. Cordelia’s shoulders shook and you heard a soft sob catch in her throat as her hands tightened over Mina’s arms.

And watching your Supreme, so small and helpless and broken. Because of you. Because she felt like she had failed you. After you had been so worried you had failed her.

Something broke in your chest and you sniffed against tears as they dripped down your cheeks.

And Mina, ever present and always impeccably observant, caught the sound. She looked over at you and a soft smile played across her lips, eyes softening.

“Good morning, little one.”

You gave her your best smile, eyes flicking back to Cordelia as your brows pushed up.

“Delia…?” you tried softly, and in an instant she had pushed herself off of Mina, wiping hastily at her eyes and schooling her features. She smiled at you, clearing her throat as her nose twitched around the ghost of tears.

“Hi, darling. How are you feeling?”

She gulped, and you watched her throat bob, and then you couldn’t help it. You climbed off of the bed, drawn to her like a magnet despite everything that had happened. Because she had just been trying to help. She had been doing the only thing she knew to keep you safe. To protect you. You had hidden and lied and locked them both out. And they both deserved better than that.

Cordelia deserved so much better than this guilt that slumped her shoulders and pulled the light from her eyes. She had been there for you when you wanted nothing more than to block her out. Desperate not to lose her. And now it was your turn.

Mina stepped back as you approached, and you slid your hand over Cordelia’s as she offered you a weak smile.

“Feeling better?” she tried again, but you only laced your fingers together, pulling her arm around you as you curled up in her lap and rested your head on her chest. Her free hand stroked through your hair on instinct and you felt her brow furrow. “What are you doing?”

You nuzzled your face into her chest, humming. “Thank you.”

She tilted her head and her hair fell into your face, tickling your nose. “What?”

Mina chuckled behind you, and you heard her cane tap as she perched herself on the edge of the chair. You looked up at both of them, trying to push the love and gratitude that was threatening to burst out of your chest through your eyes and into them. Mina smiled at you knowingly, fingers playing absently through Cordelia’s hair.

You reached out and took her free hand, squeezing their fingers as you spoke.

“Thank you. Both of you. For everything. I’m sorry I kept all of this from you.”

They both murmured soft reassurances matched with warm smiles, but you felt like it wasn’t enough. So you brought both of their hands to your lips, kissing their knuckles.

“I love you both… So much.”

“You know we love you too, darling. That’s why we needed to know what happened.”

You nodded. “I know.”

“I’m sorry that I hurt you,” Cordelia continued, and her voice went from sultry to strangled in a second.

You shook your head. “You don’t need to apologize.”

“Neither do you,” Cordelia countered, nails scratching lightly against your scalp. “Not one bit.”

“But I lied to you.” You shook your head, gaze dropping to your lap. “To both of you. After you have been nothing but kind to me. After you let me in and let me love you… And I—“

“No no no,” Cordelia tried again. “I should have never lost my temper like that—“

And then she squeaked and you whipped your head up. Mina was leaning over you, kissing Cordelia deeply, and it shouldn’t have made you squirm, especially after everything that had happened. But it did.

Cordelia giggled as she felt you shift in her lap and she broke away, looking down at you knowingly.

“Are you alright, darling?”

You cleared your throat. But before you could speak, Mina’s hand was on your cheek and she looked between you and Cordelia.

“We’re stopping this nonsense now. Understood?” She arched a perfect brow. “You’re both sorry. You’ve both apologized. And you’ve both learned your lesson. And if you haven’t, well then leave that bridge for me to cross.”

And the look in her eyes as she smirked at you was so predatory that you couldn’t help but whine.

“Alright, little one?”

You nodded, mouth gone dry.

“Little duck?”

And Cordelia nodded, clearing her throat. When you looked up at her, her cheeks had flushed pink, and you knew it was because she still wasn’t used to being so exposed in front of someone other than Mina. That little name got straight under her skin and it never failed to make you grin.

“Good,” Mina continued, squeezing your hand in hers and pressing a kiss to the top of your hair. “Now how about we all go get some lunch?”

Mina helped you slide off of Cordelia’s lap, untangling your arms and untucking your legs. And as you followed her to the door, Cordelia’s fingers ghosted hesitantly over the small of your back, over your waist, like she didn’t want to touch you but couldn’t fathom doing anything else. You glanced back, slipping your hands over hers and guiding them around your stomach. And the smile she offered you made your knees go weak.

“Oh, and Delia?” Mina threw over her shoulder, reaching for the doorknob. “If you even think about going that hard on her again, let alone taking my voice, I’ll cane you in the foyer in front of everyone. Understood?”

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stupidocupido · 4 years

Text

tous les mêmes

tous les mêmes, a Split (2016) AU.

Three witches wake up in an unknown place after being attacked by a man. Abused and scared they wait in a locked room for what’s next. The one who took them is not like others, because he is not really one person. Stuck in his body are multiple personalities. All waiting for the worst one to come out...

I came up with this idea about a year ago as a joke during a convo with @/avesatanormalpeoplescareme (gone but not forgotten lol). She actually kinda came up with the ending, so I have to give her credit for that!

This fic is also published at the archive.

Warnings: non-con, dubcon, sexual content, kidnapping, violence, stockholm syndrome, told in fragments, christian!reader, virgin!reader

Involves: jim, michael, duncan and xavier (and some more)

Tous les mêmes

one Her head is throbbing, her muscles are sore. Her eyes are still closed, she is afraid to open them. There hangs an iron like smell in the air, the air itself is pressing on her loins. Her hand goes to her neck, her fingers automatically close around the silver cross that is hanging there.

The weak cough that is coming from her left makes her eyes finally snap open. She immediately scans the room for an exit. There is only one, and it is closed. There are no windows either, their light comes from a single fluorescent light bulb on the ceiling.

It feels like she’s underground, but for all she knows she can be in some sort of garage as well.

There is another cough, and her eyes finally find the source of it. It is fellow witch Coco St. Pierre Vanderbilt. Sitting with her on the bed is Mallory, another witch. She sits up straight now, watching the other girls.

“Where are we?” Coco asks.

What a dumb question. As if they’re not locked in the same room. She remembers the attack. There had been a fight, someone had attacked them from behind. Her hand goes automatically to her cheek when she thinks about earlier. Her skin feels painful and is burning. She can feel dried up blood where it hurts.

The other two girls don’t look too good either. Coco her blonde hair is a mess, her blouse is ripped, and the skin around her left eye is blue. Mallory looks even worse, her lip is split and there is blood beneath her nose.

Mallory does not ask questions. She places an calming hand on Coco’s trembling shoulders. “That does not matter, what matters is how we get out.”

“Good, you girls are awake.”

Three heads turn around to watch where the sound comes from.

A tall blonde man watches them from the opened door. His grey blouse seems expensive. His hair is kept back with lots of gel. He is the one who attacked him, he is the one who took them. But somehow, he looks different now.

She doesn’t know what it is. But when his eyes fall into hers, she needs to resist the urge to grab for her necklace. His stare is so intense, almost as if he is trying to find her biggest weakness. She stares back at him, trying to remember his face for when they escape.

When he looks away, her stomach feels heavy and her head is weirdly light.

“Don’t bother trying your magic on me. Magic doesn’t work here.”

He is looking at Mallory’s fists now.

“You. You seem feisty, I choose you.”

Mallory is the strongest of the three of them. But without her magic she is just a small girl with not a lot muscle to defend herself from her much taller attacker. The man grabs her, a nasty grin on his handsome face. Mallory struggles, but he is too strong for her. So she screams, the first thing she learned. “Pee yourself! Pee yourself!”

Coco tries to free Mallory from their kidnapper, but she’s not strong enough. And when the door closes, it’s just the two of them. Coco is trying to get the door open, to save her friend. Her nails are scratching the iron and she’s screaming Mallory’s name. She is still sitting on her bed, frozen and afraid.

It’s a minute later when the door is smashed open again. Coco falls on the ground. A crying Mallory gets pushed into the room again by their kidnapper. He looks disgusted, Mallory her legs are wet. The door closes with a bang and it’s the three of them again.

Much later is Coco still holding the crying Mallory. She is stroking her back, whispering words she cannot hear. She feels like she is watching someone else’s tragedy from the rusty bed. And it always had been like this. At the academy where Cordelia only has eyes for her star pupils.

She is nothing like them, even though she so badly wants to fit in. She is an unusual duck in a group of swans. She belongs in the water; yes. But she does not belong with them.

two They’re trying to come up with a way to escape without having to use magic. They can be smart, there must be a way to trick their capturer. They had of course tried using magic, but he had not lied. Nothing worked, it seemed all they had now was their fists and intelligence.

“Maybe we can distract him. If one of us can escape it’ll be enough.” Mallory tries.

“We don’t know where we are! Maybe we are in the basement of some cult. How can you be so sure there aren’t other doors behind this one?” She shakes her head, there must be another way.

“Then what do you propose? That we wait around for Cordelia to get us? We may be dead by then.” Coco’s voice is annoyed. She shrugs, she doesn’t know what to do either. But running doesn’t seem like the best option.

When the door opens again the witches stop their whispering. He is wearing a long black dress now. His hair is styled in a different way. His eyes scan their faces and the way they look.

“Don’t you kids look awful, oh sweet Satan! I knew he wouldn’t be able to control his urges.” He shakes his head. His voice sounds different than before. It’s higher pitched, it almost has something feminine.

The three witches share a look, none of them know what is going on. Maybe he is playing with them to confuse them. To make them weaker, to make them easier to take when he is done playing.

“He knows he is not allowed to touch any of you. I will talk with him.” He shakes his head again.

Then his eyes fall upon her face. She feels herself getting cold when his eyes are staring her up and down. Is he going to take her now?

He comes closer, there is concern in his eyes. She can see how Coco and Mallory look at each other and then at the door he had left open.

He leans down, so that they are on eye level. She does not move away when his hand goes to touch her face. Long fingers trace the cut on her cheek. His fingers are cold against the throbbing skin. His blue eyes are filled with wonder as he leans in closer to examine the wound. “Don’t you worry my dear, I will take care of you.”

“Who are you?” It’s a way to keep him distracted, but she is also genuinely interested. Why is he acting like he is someone else?

“Oh, silly, I am Ms. Mead of course.”

His eyes are so blue, that she is taken back by them. Now his hair is not being kept back by gel, it gives it the chance to be in its natural state. His blonde curls are wild and beautiful. He does not look crazy to her, not like someone who would kidnap three girls. But he knows they have magic, there must be something more.

There is something about his face that feels familiar. Maybe it is because it straight comes from the paintings how they image heaven to be like.

He is studying her as she is studying him. There is something about him that is not right. But there is also something that is very right. Something familiar, something that reminds her of Cordelia and nights of studying magic spells.

“Coco! Run!”

The spell is broken, he is someone else now. Something changes in his eyes, she can’t exactly pinpoint what it was, but something is different. He stands up so sudden it hurts her head. She scrambles back on the bed, afraid for what he is going to do now.

But he does nothing, he stays very calm. Too calm. He turns his back on her, facing the opened door where Coco ran through instead. He looks more annoyed than panicked.

“Did you really think I don’t have this whole place locked down? After every door you will find a new one.”

A desperate cry is the proof of his words. He leaves the other two witches without giving them another glance. And when the door closes behind him, the echo from Coco’s screams can still be heard in their room much later.

three “Where is Coco?” Mallory her voice is sharp. He looks more optimistic than normal. He is wearing earrings and shorts now. Another personality? So far, they had met three versions of him. The one who took them, Ms. Mead and now this one.

He walks towards Mallory, squeezing her cheek. “Coco is where all good girls go to.” His voice is amused. This character seems to be more of a tease than the others.

“And where do good girls go?” Mallory is not afraid and she damns her for it. Why can’t she be quiet? He laughs loudly, finally letting go of her cheek.

“I don’t know, ask Billie Eilish.”

He looks around the room. “Pff, this place is a mess.” He places his hands on his hips, he is looking at her now. She rolls her eyes, finally showing some sort of emotion. But it is Mallory who once again says something.

“Didn’t you know that kidnappers don’t hire cleaners?”

She sends Mallory a look. Does the girl have a death wish? Normally she would understand Mallory’s confidence. She is the future supreme after all. Mallory is popular because she is kind. Confident because she is loved and fearless because she is powerful. But she is none of that right now.

He looks Mallory up and down, his smile almost mocking her.

“You all look hungry, let me make you girls a sandwich. The best chef in the world taught me how to do so.”

He opens the door again, gesturing with his hand that they should follow him. They both stand up from their beds, she walks behind Mallory away from their prison.

Where their room is dimly lit, the hallways are anything but. The place is sterile, and everything is white. It reminds her of a hospital or maybe even a lab. There are a lot of doors, but none of them indicate Coco’s presence. She wonders if the other witch is still here. She doesn’t want to think about other options.

The kitchen he leads them to is really messy. But here the floor and walls are white as well. There are again no windows. This makes her think they might be underground after all. However, it is clear that this place is huge.

He gestures them to sit down at the table. He turns his back on them. He is gathering bread, peanut butter and jam. Her eyes stay on the large knife in his hands. He uses it to put everything on the bread.

“What is your name?” She breaks the silence. She watches how he cuts the sandwiches in half with the large knife. The chairs they’re sitting on are very uncomfortable. Mallory moves in her chair. She’s watching the knife as well.

He looks over his shoulder, showing her his white teeth. “Xavier.”

When he turns his back to the counter, he has two plates in his hands. He had made them peanut jelly sandwiches. She stares at the bread, wondering if it might be poisoned.

Mallory is the first one to bite into the food. So she follows. Slowly she chews on the bread, it doesn’t taste like it’s poisoned.

“And?

Do you like it?” He watches them eat. He seems to be impatient for an answer.

Her and Mallory share a look, before nodding. “It’s delicious, you should become a professional.” She is being truthful; the food is good. But perhaps it is also because it’s the first thing she ate in a while.

“Neh, I want to be an actor. You girls want another one?” He is looking at their empty plates.

Mallory smiles very careful. She can see something building in her dark eyes, she is planning something. “That would be amazing, thank you.”

Xavier moves to the counter again. He takes four slices of bread, throwing them on the cutting board without a care.

“The trick is to use just a little bit more jelly. And always put it on white bread.” While Xavier is working on the sandwiches, Mallory had stood up from her chair. She is moving quietly away from the table, to stand behind it.

She makes eye contact with her. Shaking her head, pointing with her head towards the big knife he has in his hand. But Mallory ignores her. Her hands wrap around the chair, pulling it from the ground.

She throws the chair against his back with all her strength. He falls down against the counter, the knife still in his hand. He lets out a painful gasp. When he turns around, Mallory is throwing her plate in his direction. It hits his chest, it breaks in three pieces when it falls to the ground.

Mallory wastes no time, sprinting towards the door. It is not locked, but she can see from here that behind the door is another hallway.

Xavier looks at the door and then at her. His cheeks are flustered with anger.

“Go to your room.” His voice is murderous, his eyes are flaming.

“NOW!”

He shouts when she doesn’t move. She is too afraid to not do what he told her to do. So she runs from the kitchen, runs through the white hallways and lets herself fall on her thin mattress.

There she prays and cries for her sisters. She prays for Mallory to get out and for them to be saved. She prays for Cordelia to find them and for Coco to still be alive.

It’s hours later that she stops mumbling to her god. Mallory doesn’t return and neither does he to lock the door again.

With cheeks that are wet and a throat that is sore, she watches how the lights in the halls turn off. Will she ever get out of here?

four His feet are bare, he is wearing a yellow shirt and his hair is messy. He is sitting in the opened door, watching how she slept. Or more like how she pretended to sleep.

“What is your name? I am Michael.” He sounds very young, his head is tilted like a dog that is waiting for a treat.

She tells him her name. He does not stand up, instead he moves his knees to come closer to her. He is holding something in his hands. She can’t see what it is.

“What is your favourite colour? Mine is red.” She frowns at his question. What does he want?

“I don’t think I have one.”

He lets out an annoyed sound. “Who doesn’t have a favourite colour? You’re weird.” She tries not to feel offended, not when he is acting like a young child. But what if he is that young child? What if this is her way out?

“Michael, how old are you?”

“Ten, how old are you?”

She laughs, surprised with his answer. It doesn’t look like he is playing her. He seems to think he really is a ten-year-old boy.

“A little older than you, I am afraid.”

“Oh. Will you play a game with me?” He shows her what he had been hiding from her. It’s a small red racing car. It looks so small in his large hands, it isn’t right. She looks up to watch his face instead. She swallows, her stomach empty, her throat begging for water. But she knows it is better to amuse her captor and his many personalities.

“I am too thirsty to play games, Michael.”

She can see something change in his demeanor; like a child who does not get what he wants this grown man is about to cry. She wonders, how can he be so dominating and small at the same time?

How can he be grown but still look like a child? She grips his hands before he can cry. His eyes immediately go to where she holds him.

“Maybe you can get me some water? We can play after.”

But Michael shakes his head, already moving away from her. “I don’t think Duncan will like that, but maybe Ms. Mead can bring you some.”

She grabs his arm before he can truly leave her. “We can play later then. Maybe tomorrow night?”

He looks down at where she is holding him, but when he looks up again, he is smiling.

“As long as you don’t tell the others I was here!”

She smiles, letting go off his arm. “It will be our secret.”

five “How many of you are there?” He had brought a box with toys the next night. She’s sitting on the thin mattress now, he is still on the floor. The cars and the dolls they were playing with long forgotten.

“About ten. But Duncan and Ms. Mead are the strongest ones.”

Duncan, Ms. Mead, Xavier, Michael.

That are four, will she ever meet the other six? Does she want to meet the other six? Michael had picked up a game console from the ground. It’s an old Gameboy, she used to own one that looked exactly like this one.

But Michael doesn’t turn it on to play, instead he is watching her necklace. “Do you believe there is a god?”

“Yes.”

“Then you also must believe there is a devil.” She feels uncomfortable, she doesn’t like to think about there being one.

“I guess there must be evil as well.”

“He is in us. They’re trying to lure him out. That’s why the three of you were taken. But I won’t let them hurt you! We’re friends now!”

He is offering her the Gameboy. She can feel her stomach turn over. She thinks everyone has something evil inside of them, but the literal devil? But she nods, taking the game console from Michael.

“Yes, we are friends.”

“I don’t think you are a good friend.” A different voice, his smile is even different now. She let’s go of the game console, it falls down to the ground.

He is eyeing the cross that’s hanging just above her breast like Michael did.

“I bet you are one of those virgin girls who say they gave themselves to god. But I know you are a freak, ready to be ripped apart.” She knows this personality; it is the one that took them. Duncan, the cocky fuck boy. If they weren’t captured Madison probably would have liked to fuck him, just to degrade him.

Her hand goes to the cross hanging just above her breasts, she refuses to answer him. The steel is warmed by her skin, it feels comfortable in the palm of her hand. A beacon of hope, she does not dare to pray now. But when she is alone, she does.

“I bet your cunt will be so tight when I take your virginity. I bet you will bleed, I bet you will scream for me.” Duncan comes dangerously close to her bed. She looks away from him, watching her knees, she tries to control her breathing.

The mattress sinks where he sits on it. She wants to move away from him, but his hand is cupping her cheek, forcing her face in his direction. “Will you be a good Christian girl for me? I can be your god.”

She moves her head away from him, shifting her body to the other side of the bed.

“You are no god.”

It is the first thing she says. It makes Duncan laugh; his body is shaking with it. Duncan his laugh is different from Ms. Mead’s and even Michael’s laugh. He moves closer to her body, gripping her leg. He is too strong for her.

“No, we are the devil. And right now I want to taste one of god’s fruits.” He pushes her down, she screams. She tries to hit him, but it has no use. She closes her eyes when his hand grabs her breast. She prays to a god, who does not seem to care. Why her? Why was she taken?

“I bet you like this, I bet this is what you pray for when the door closes.” With his other hand he opens the blouse. Impatient he pulls at the buttons, he almost tears the fabric apart. His cold hand goes into her blouse, his hand is pushed into her bra. His nails press into her flesh when he cups her breast. She cries out in pain, her body struggling against his.

Duncan his breath is hot against her skin, his hand kneads her breast. She tries to escape, but it has no use. His mouth is placed against the pulse in her throat, he sucks at the skin very lightly. The moan she lets out because of his motions stiffens her.

And then suddenly he moves away. His breathing is uneven, his hair is a mess. “I am sorry, I am sorry. Please forgive us. He knows he is not allowed to touch you; but sometimes he has urges.” Another personality, she does not know this one yet.

“Who are you?” She asks, closing the blouse Duncan had opened so forcefully. He gives her a weak smile.

“Jim.”

six It is Jim who opens the door the next time and all the times after. She can see it in the way he walks and in the way he smiles. Even his face is softer than the other personalities. Where she tried to manipulate Michael first, she now knows she should try Jim.

In the beginning he doesn’t talk a lot about himself, but he is very interested in her. Everything she tells him; he seems to care about. Always asking for more and more. From her favourite colour to what she likes to drink before she goes to bed. From her first love to her worst fears.

She tells him, because there is nothing else to do. She can’t escape him anyway. Whenever she thinks she has a chance, Jim slips away from her.

Jim only starts telling her more about his past after a few days. He was the first one. The only one. But due to circumstances at home he had turned to drugs. Maybe it was the trauma of having an abusive mother, a father that doesn’t care and a sister that doesn’t understand him what caused all of this. Maybe he took too much drugs and created someone who cares. Someone who understands, someone who will never leave him behind.

His parents had died during a tragic fire, where their whole house burned to the ground. His sister had decided to leave it all behind. Travelling the world for her to never return. Leaving him alone and unloved.

She can see him now, alone in a burned house with no one who cares about him. The only one he had was himself, so maybe that is why he decided to create people who would care.

Or maybe all of it is real. Maybe there are personalities trapped inside this man. He did know they were witches. Maybe he is cursed, maybe that is why he took them. Hoping that the three of them could help him to become just Jim again. She doesn’t know why she is here. But what she does know, is that she feels sorry for Jim.

He needs to be loved; he does not deserve to be sad.

“All I ever really wanted to do was surf.” His smile is so sad that it burns. It might have been weeks, it might have been just a couple days. But he is all she knows now, the only friendly face, the only one who cares about her. The one who knows what others don’t, and the one who was willing to ask for more. When she is with him, she no longer is just a duck swimming in the same direction as the more majestic swans. With him, she is something entirely rare. He makes her feel like she is like there is no one else like her.

And when he tells her with eyes filled with years that he wants her to be free, she isn’t so sure if she wants to be. He tells her that he had tried to free them. But when he even thinks about not locking the doors, they take over.

But the thought alone is enough, he does not want to steal her freedom. He wants her, them, to be free. And she wants that for him as well, she wants him to taste what freedom is. She wants them to taste it together.

She can heal him; magic can make him whole again. She can make his days bright and they can just do what he always had wanted to do.

So she is the one to kiss him when he tells her his favourite colour is blue. Long but soft, eager to heal all that once burned with pain. To kiss his aching away and make him forget about the others. Her fingers are digging in his hair, the taste of him on her tongue. He smells like the sea, and it feels like she’s in falling into deep waters.

They kiss and kiss, until her lips grow sore and her panties are wet.

When he leaves, she slides the cross between her index and middle finger. Asking god why something forbidden feels so right.

She thinks of blue and how he described it. How it is the sky and how it is the sea. How it is sadness and how it is honesty. But to her, it is only his eyes. And that might be her new favourite thing.

seven “I want you to be free, really.” He is grabbing her hand, as if he is afraid his words aren’t enough to convince her. But she doesn’t need much convincing to know that he is being truthful. She moves their intertwined fingers up to her face. She pushes her head against the back of his hand, a small smile is playing on her lips.

“Maybe we can start small. Why don’t we go to your room?”

He takes her to the kitchen, her hand in his. He opens the door, behind it there is another hallway. This place is so much like a maze, that she wonders if it was built to keep people in. Maybe it was built to keep them in, but it could also be built to keep him in.

This hallway is not empty. There are all sorts of electronica lying around. She even spots an ancient computer screen. There are multiple doors here as well, but he is leading them towards the one opposite the door they came from. He does not give her the chance to take the place properly in. He almost seems desperate in his movements. Almost as if he is afraid another personality will take over if he’s not fast enough.

Behind the second door is grey concrete stairwell that goes up. This place is badly lighted. It reminds her of the stairs that are in underground parking lots.

It maybe takes them five minutes to reach the top. And at the top there is another closed door. He unlocks that door and when he opens it, her eyes need to adjust to the bright light.

She knows better to ask what kind of place this is. But it seems like her earlier guesses where right. They are in some sort lab. The third door had led them to some sort of welcoming hall. There is one desk standing in the weird room and it’s empty. Maybe it’s night. She can’t really tell the time anymore.

The fourth door he opens, leads them finally to his bedroom.

It’s not a big room. It almost looks like some sort prison cell. His bed is placed against the concrete wall. There are no windows and the walls are empty. There is a small dresser opposite the bed and there are toys on the floor. They’re Michael’s, she recognized the red car immediately.

Jim closes the door behind them, she pretends she doesn’t notice that he locks it.

“They’re still alive.” He suddenly tells her when they sit down on his bed.

She is ashamed for not asking it herself. She had only been thinking about him and how she could save them. Never thinking about the wellbeing of Mallory and Coco.

Jim frowns. “You don’t look happy. They’re kind of your sisters, right?”

She shakes her head.

“I don’t think I ever really belonged with them. I love them and they love me. But it’s never as much as they love each other.”

Jim is silent for a while. She doesn’t mind the silence; she has a lot to think about. Being a witch is everything that her faith taught her to be wrong. So it was real shock for her to discover she actually is what her parents consider a sin. She hasn’t spoken with her parents ever since she moved to New Orleans. The other girls are all that she has left.

“Maybe we all are just trying to find something to hold onto. You your faith and perhaps the other witches. Me the others inside of me.” Jim his voice is soft, he is not looking at her, he’s watching the wall. She grabs his hand, forcing his attention on her once again. She let’s go when she has his attention.

“Do you ever feel alone?” She asks.

“All the time, even though I never really am. There is no one who can truly understand what it’s like to be me.”

Her smile is sad, because he is right. She will never understand what it’s like to be him. But in return he will never know how it is to be like her.

“I feel so empty most of the time, as if something is missing. As if a part of me was taken when I found out I was a witch.”

“Because of your faith?” He looks at her again. She shrugs, not sure what exactly is what makes her feel like this.

“I guess so.”

Jim is silent, when he speaks again his voice is very soft.

“It feels like you understand me better than anyone else ever has.” He is looking at his knees. His sad tone breaks her heart. She grabs his hand again, her other she brings to his face. She is touching his chin, forcing his head up.

“Maybe it’s because they never tried to.” She whispers. He opens his mouth to immediately close it again. He leans closer, her hand still on his face.

There is an urgency in his kiss that never was there before. She doesn’t mind it, welcomes it even. She feels like a walking cliché, but with every kiss he gives her, she wants more. She moves her legs up the bed, allowing him to push her down on it.

Her hands creep up under the shirt he’s wearing. His skin is smooth beneath her exploring fingers. He almost has no scars. She expected there to be burns, because of the story how his parents had died. But there are none. Maybe he had been safely outside when it had happened.

He helps her take his shirt off, he throws it next to his bed. She can feel the heat of his skin through her blouse. And it’s not enough, she wants to feel his skin against her own. He is fumbling with the buttons of her blouse. One by one he opens them, exposing her skin to the cold air of his room.

He kisses her again, leaving wet prints of his lips on her skin. He goes lower and lower, until he is at her pants. When he looks up, she only nods.

She wiggles from her pants, leaving her in only her underwear.

Jim does not stare at her body, instead he looks at her face. He places his warm hand on her stomach, he slowly moves it down. He moves his hand until it is between her legs. She feels heated, with him being so close to where no one was before. The only thing between their skin, is the thin cotton of her underwear.

He never loses eye contact. When she doesn’t stop him, he looks away. He starts to rub over her underwear. First only his thumb. But when her body starts to relax, he removes his thumb with index and middle finger. He moves in a slow steady pace, which feels really good.

She had touched herself before. But being touched by someone else is different. It’s a good different, she decides. But maybe that is because he knows what is doing. Not too much pressure, but he’s also not too soft with her. It’s almost as if he knows exactly what she wants.

“Oh Jim, it feels so good.”

He takes this is as an invitation to slide her underwear down her legs. He continues his rubbing, but it feels even better now. His fingers slide easy through her wet folds. It didn’t take him much at all to make her this wet.

Maybe it is because he is so careful, maybe it is because she’s so turned on, but it doesn’t feel as weird as she thought it would be when he pushes one finger inside of her.

His finger is obviously larger than hers. At first that’s the only thing she can think of. How it feels to have him inside of her. But when the feeling becomes somewhat normal, she can focus on the pleasure it brings her.

She doesn’t even really notice he had added a second finger. Her hips move shamelessly into his touch, her soft moans are filling her own ears. She didn’t know she could make sounds like that. But it only feels natural. He is so soft with her, so sweet for her. Her hands grab for the sheets. The cotton clenched in her sweaty fists. The soft moan she lets out sounds like his name, when the feeling of release washes over her.

His palm is wet because of her, she almost feels ashamed when she sees it. Jim brings his hand to his face, sniffing her scent in. It is a bit weird to her, but in a way it’s also very hot.

He is pulling his pants down now, exposing the bulge in his boxers. A jolt goes through her body. She did this. She isn’t sure why she likes it so much. Maybe because this means she has as much control over him as he has over her.

“Lie down.” She orders him. He does what he is told, watching how she is the one exploring his body now. She doesn’t kiss him like he was kissing her, she only gives him a very light touch. Her index finger tracing from beauty mark to beauty mark. When she arrives at his underwear, she looks at him again.

“Do you want me to touch you there?”

“Fuck, yes.”

He pushes his body up so she can remove his underwear. His cock springs free, almost hitting his stomach in the process. She has never seen one this close before. She is fascinated by it. By how soft and vulnerable it looks. She wonders how it feels like. Does she need to be soft with it, or does he prefer someone who is rough? She looks away from it, afraid to make him feel uncomfortable if she stares for too long.

“Can you show me how to touch you?” Her cheeks grow hot, she feels embarrassed that she has to ask. Jim sits up a little, leaning on one elbow.

“Give me your hand.”

He brings her hand to his cock. “Just wrap your hand around it.” He feels warm in her hand, and she likes how it feels. He wraps his hand around hers then. He starts to move their hands down and up. Up and down, down and up. Until they fall in a pace he apparently likes.

When he removes his hand from hers, she keeps up the pace he had set. She moves her hand like he showed her to do. A bit hesitant at first, but she grows more confident when he lets out a low moan.

She decides to test it a little. She goes a little slower, to go faster again when he lets out another moan. She leans closer to it, so she can place her free hand beneath the moving one.

With every sound he lets out, she grows more confident. Her hand goes down to cup his balls. She once had one of the witches talk about them and how they should not be forgotten.

“Stop, or I’ll come.” His voice is sharp, it almost sounds pained. She removes her hands immediately, afraid she did something wrong.

She turns her head to watch him. When looks up to her it’s as if nothing else really matters anymore. He loves her and she thinks she can love him. They’re all God’s creatures and she was taught to care for them all. She never felt like this before. Is it her wanting to fix him? Or is because she really loves him? And does it really matter?

“Kiss me.” She doesn’t know what else to say, not when his body is trembling under her touch like this.

He obeys, he crawls on top of her so he can kiss her. His skin is so hot against hers, it makes her feverish. She wants all of it, she wants to be burned by his skin and touch. She wants to burn to ashes with him. Collided, connected, together forever. She wants all of him, she wants him to have all of her.

His cock is hard and ready against her stomach, he must want her as badly as she wants him.

“Jim, I am ready.”

“Are you sure?” She can feel him against her entrance. And she knows she’s ready for this. She reaches her hands out to touch his face. His beautiful, angelic face. She moves her hands from his face, bringing them slowly to his back.

“Yes, I want this.” He kisses her again. Her nose, her cheek, her mouth and her throat. She sighs, her finger spread on his skin. He enters her very slowly. He kisses her when she lets out a gasp when he’s fully inside.

And for a very blissful moment she feels whole again. There is no pain, only a dull ache. The feeling of being one, the feeling of being with someone you love. She never thought she would give herself away in a situation like this. But it is happening right now, and it feels so good.

Jim his eyes are closed, his body is trying to stay still. His hands are placed on the pillow on both sides of her head. She can see sweat dripping between his furrowed brows. “You feel so good, you’re so tight. Please tell me it does not hurt.”

Her hands move up, her fingers intertwined with his curls. “No, you feel very good, it does not hurt.” This is all Jim needs to hear to start his movements.

Tears fall from her eyes, not out of pain but because all the emotions that are swirling around her head. What is she doing? Why is she doing this? But all of her doubts shatter when his hips fall down on hers once again.

A surprised moan comes out when he hits a spot. She did not expect for it to feel good. “What was that?” He immediately asks, his voice worried.

“Do that again.” She says breathlessly.

Jim circles his hips in a way, the thrust harder this time. It hurts a little, but it is not an unpleasant feeling. It reminds her of the feeling that comes with pushing on blue marks. She used to do that a lot when she was younger, the pain it gives is dull enough. Only this feels better, this is the best kind of hurt.

Her nails are scraping his back. The skin destroyed beneath her nails. Suddenly his movements become rougher, the voice he speaks with now different.

“I knew you were a freak!”

This is not Jim, this is someone else. She tries to push him off, but he won’t move. Her nails curl into his skin. “Go away, I don’t want you here.”

She finally is able to push him of her. He laughs when he falls down on the mattress. She feels dirty, she feels used. But above all of that she’s angry with him for ruining the moment she had with Jim.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell your god that you’re a dirty slut.” It’s too much, she had enough of him and his taunting words.

“You pathetic excuse of a personality, you’re worthless. You’re nothing, no one will miss you when you fall from the light.”

“You fucking bitch.” Duncan harshly grabs her wrists. His eyes scream murder, but she doesn’t care. She pulls herself from his grip. “I am not scared of you.”

She spits in his face. A feeling of triumph masters her, when she sees how shocked he looks.

But then, something changes.

A low growl breaks from his throat as all the colour is drenched from his face. Veins become visible when his skin grows paler and paler. The lights in the room are flickering, she is getting cold. The blue of his eyes disappears, leaving his eyes black and soulless. She slowly moves away from him, until her back hits the wall.

He no longer is Duncan, he no longer is like any of the other personalities. He is the demon from all her nightmares. He is the devil, he is all that is evil. She wants to scream, call for her Jim to come back, for any of them to come back. But nothing comes out. Her mouth is opened in a silent scream, when the demon leans closer to her.

He pushes his nose against her throat, smelling there where her she can feel her own heartbeat. His skin is dry and as cold as ice. His cold hand takes hold of her shoulder to push her down. The scream finally comes out. A raspy sound that does not sound like her own voice. But at least something is coming from her. She screams, but no one can really hear her.

His claw like hand is placed upon her mouth, silencing her immediately. His body is pressed against hers keeping her in her place. She struggles against him, but it has no use. Behind her is concrete, in front of her is the demon.

She can’t move, she can’t escape. It’s teeth are scraping against her skin. It’s breathe is hot and stinks of blood. This is the moment she will be killed, she is sure of it. Its mouth is at her ear now. He will rip it off, he will eat her alive.

The tip of its toxic tongue licks her jaw. A shudder goes through her body because of the sensation. Her nipples harden because of the small gesture. She damns herself for responding to it like she does. Hell will swallow her whole if the demon will not.

It nips at her skin like she is something sweet that should be savoured. Her back arches when his mouth is at her throat. Her body moves in response, rubbing against the demons.

Its teeth sink in her skin, she cries out in pain. Blood pours from the wound, wetting her throat, it drips upon the mattress they lie on. It feels strangely good. Maybe it is because she’s close enough to dead to feel heaven.

She falls down on her back when he leans away from her. Whimpers fall from her mouth, her hands automatically go up to touch the wound. She tries to close it, but she doesn’t think it has any use. He will kill her anyway. She starts to cry; she doesn’t want to die like this. Naked and afraid, eaten alive by a demon.

He climbs on her, ready to bite again. His hands are placed on both sides of her head. Her own blood drips from his chin on her face when he leans closer to her face.

He licks the wound he had made and she lets him. This isn’t a terrible way to go. One bite and she will be gone. Her eyes close, tears are still falling from them. Cold hands are wrapped around her throat now. At least she will die loving someone. Jim, Jim, she could not save him.

Her eyes snap open when the beast let’s out a howling sound. What is she doing? When did she become something helpless, when did she something that no longer craves for control? She always finds a way out, so why doesn’t she find one now? So she pushes back, with all her strength. Until the demon falls on his back and she’s on top.

She looks down on him. His face is covered in her blood, the flickering lights in the room are mirrored in his black eyes. The veins she can see beneath his skin remind her of storms and their lighting.

But she sees something else too. He is still Jim, only his face had changed. He may think it’s another personality, she thinks it’s not. It is still him. And she loves her damaged boy. She is a witch and she must be able to tame this demon. She has god on her side, she can cast the evil from this boy. Love will always conquer, good will always win. So she will conquer him, she will defeat evil.

“You’re not like this. Please listen to me, I know there is good in you.” Her hands are cupping his face and he does not fight her. If he was truly evil, he wouldn’t have allowed her to take control.

“Please, let me help you. Let me save you.”

He doesn’t answer her, he grabs her arms instead. He rolls the both of them over. She’s on her back again. She tries to turn them over again, but he pushes his whole body against her. She wiggles, trying to free herself from his weight. But she can’t.

She wants to believe it still is Jim, but with the way he is watching her it’s hard. Drool leaks from the corners from his mouth, eyes too dark to see real emotion in them.

He forces her legs open with his knees. Despite the fact he seems to be only hungry for her flesh now, she can still feel how hard he is. His erection is placed against her pelvis. She only has to move her hips a little for him to be between her legs again.

Tame the beast, conquer the devil. Maybe she feels too much for him to not sin. So she moves her legs, grabs his head and pulls it down. Warm lips meet cold ones, she kisses him until she no longer can taste her own blood in his mouth.

The demon kisses her back, his sharp teeth clashing with hers. She moves her hand between them, taking hold of his cock.

She tries to tell herself that all he needs is love, that he just needs to feel warmth. But she is only half convinced it will really work.

She guides him between her legs, his hips almost move automatically when he is where she wants him.

He is inside her again, but this time it’s not like the first time. He does not wait for her to adjust, does not ask her if she’s okay. His body is heavy, but his weight is the last thing she thinks about. She knows she has to be gentle, to let him know there is still good in this world. But she really can’t bring herself to do so, not when it feels so good to be like this. She pushes his face away when it leans down closer to hers, instead she pushes her face against his shoulder.

He moans, he groans, he growls. With every animalistic thrust she feels herself slipping further and further away from all that is good. This is sinning, her body moving with his, the pain it gives turns her on. This is everything god forbade her to ever participate in. Her body is wet with sweat but also her own blood. It makes it easier to slide over his body. Her cheeks are wet with old tears.

His skin is turning hotter with every thrust, but he is still not her Jim. So she bites him, her teeth piercing through his dry skin. She bites until he bleeds, until she almost chokes on his blood and tears are falling from her eyes again.

She’s not surprised to be the first one to come, because she knows it’s a sign. She has chosen her faith and she cannot return to anything she had left behind now. She screams Jim’s name when her climax hits. Maybe to taunt the beast, but also because she hopes it will bring him back.

He pulls out before he can cum inside of her. Instead he spills over her stomach.

He does not move from her, instead he looks down on her. The demon almost looks amused. It’s teeth are showing when he leans down to touch the damaged skin of her neck. His fingers trace the wound he made, almost as if he wants to make sure it’s real. His fingers go lower and lower, until they’re wrapped around the cross of her necklace. He brings his face closer to hers now. His lips are touching her earlobe.

“You can’t save us.” His voice is raspy, low and it gives her goose bumps. It feels like all her hope is gone, as if someone snatched out the fire inside of her. He pulls the necklace from her. The cross hidden in his fist.

He leaves her naked and alone in his cold bed after. She is trying not to cry when the door closes.

eight She is alone when she wakes up again. Her body is covered in bruises and the sheets are a brownish red from her blood. Her hand goes to her throat, where she can feel the imprint of his teeth. She is aching everywhere. Her back is hurting, she can barely sit up without wanting to fall down again.

She whimpers, not wanting to cry again. He didn’t return after he had left her. She wonders if he even is himself again. Maybe he was right after all. There are other personalities, it isn’t it just a disorder. He is cursed, the demon she saw yesterday wasn’t him. Why would it take the necklace? Jim wouldn’t do that. Jim wouldn’t hurt her like the demon did. She is sure of it.

She feels dirty and used, but most of all she feels something else. She tried so hard to save him. Maybe she needs to save herself first before she can save him.

She gathers her dirty clothing, putting them on again. When she’s fully dressed, she walks very hesitant towards the door. What will be behind it? Will it even open?

The door isn’t locked and behind the door is the empty lobby. She starts to walk around, trying to open other doors. But they’re all locked. Except his bedroom and the door they came through yesterday.

She decides to explore the empty desk that’s standing in the middle of the lobby instead. The papers on the desk tell her that this building belongs to Kineros Robotics. But what’s in a name? She sits down on the chair. The person who normally sits here really has a thing for purple. Because almost every personal item is in that particular colour. She opens one of the drawers and it’s immediately the right one. There is a key that looks like it belongs to the front door.

Bingo, she can escape.

But why is she hesitant? Why does she feel like she would betray him if she leaves? Maybe he feels bad about what happened last night. She must find him first. And she must find her sisters, she needs them now more than ever. But she needs him for that as well. He is the only one that knows where they are.

So she goes downstairs again. But the kitchen is empty. But the door to their hallway is opened, so she goes that way. Maybe he is in her room?

There is something different. Two doors in the hallway are opened, while the one to her room is closed. There is a blood trail from one room to the other. She slows down her steps. Her gut is telling her to run away right now. To leave him and never look back again. But dumb like she is, she ignores the feeling. She stops when she is in front of the first opened door.

The first thing she sees is Coco. Her whole body is covered in blood. It looks like she was attacked by a beast. Or a demon. She ignores the voice in her head, slowly she walks closer to the room. She can hear faint sounds now.

The room looks exactly like the one she was being kept in. Her body stiffens when she sees them. He is leaning over Mallory. His hand is in her chest, he pulls her heart from it. She sees how he brings the organ to his mouth, and he bites.

She backs away from them until her back hits the wall. He is eating her heart like it’s the most delicious thing ever. Mallory’s dark eyes are still opened, staring at Coco’s body next to her. But she is not alive. They both are gone. Her hands grab for something to hold onto, she feels like falling down. Both her hands touch the wall instead. Her heart is beating furiously in her chest. She covers her mouth to let the scream she wants to let out in. She needs to throw up, she can feel the bile coming up.

The moan that comes from the demon makes her snap out of her panic. She moves away from them as quietly as she can. Making her way to the kitchen. The only thing she is thinking about is how to get away from here as fast as she can.

The desk in the lobby is still empty. But she doesn’t waste time. She’s running towards the large door, the key she stole earlier in her left hand.

The door opens easily and when she is outside, she lets out a breath. It seems to be the end of the day but the sun is still up. She runs from the building, not looking back until she is sure she’s far away from it. When she turns around, she can still read the letters on top of the building. Kineros.

All she is thinking about, is Cordelia. Her sisters are killed, she needs her supreme now more than ever.

She asks the first person she sees on the street for their phone. The woman gives her a weird look. Probably because she looks terrible. With shaking fingers, she types in Cordelia’s number. And when she takes the call and hears how the supreme says her own name, the witch finally feels safe again. It’s going to be alright; she’s going to be fine.

nine Back in Kineros the blonde demon smiles to himself, his face still covered in blood. He is Jim, he is Xavier, he is Duncan and he’s even Ms. Mead. But most importantly, he’s Michael.

They all are real, really made up by him. He knew he had to do something drastic to lure Cordelia away from the sacred grounds of their New Orleans academy. She would never come to him without a good reason. Cordelia had killed his adoptive mother and he will make sure Cordelia will meet her end.

Soon there will be no witches left to mess with his devilish plans. He plays with the cross he stole from her. No witches, except her. He will keep this one. Something to bring with him to his new world. Michael will not forget the way she so easily had given him all of her love. He is not without cravings after all.

But first, destruction. He will kill them all as gruesome as he had killed the other two witches. They will never know what is coming their way…

..............................

pfew, thank you for reading!

if you speak french, or maybe listen to stromae, the title of the fic already gave away the ending. tous les memes means ‘all the same’.

shout out to chef bertie, the chef who taught xavier how to make the best sandwiches.

..............................

tags: @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @ccodyferns @thechildofmay @queencocoakimmie @queenie435 @isoldedax @bethskarsgard @littledemondani @theghostoflangdon @boofy1998 @bademliimagnum @gold-dragon-slayer @venusxxlangdon @nana15774 @isoldedax @napping-is-my-favorite @anacerta @vampirefairyestelle @wroteclassicaly @icylangdon @peachesandfern @hecohansen31 @melodylangdon @leatherduncan @michaelsapostle @michael-langdon-appreciation @hadesruinseverything @themiswrites @blakewaterxx @rocketgirl2410

#fanfiction #michael langdon x reader #duncan shepherd x reader #jim mason x reader #xavier plympton x reader #ms mead #michael langdon #xavier plympton #duncan shepherd #jim mason #mallory #coco st. pierre vanderbilt

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ahs-source · 4 years

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Happy Friday! Welcome to Part 1 of Fanfiction Friday! Thank you to those who submitted these fantastic works for this week’s Fanfiction Friday. Let’s celebrate these wonderful works that you can all read while in quarantine! Stay safe, folks! (Part 2 here - thank you again for all the submissions this week)!

Altered State of Consciousness (Completed) by Lobo_Steele (AO3) / @crossdressingpirate (Tumblr) Relationships: Mallory x Michael Langdon x Madison Montgomery x Duncan Shepherd x Jim Mason | Tags: Drama & Romance, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Implied fivesome, Gun Violence, Minor Character Death, Resolved Sexual Tension, Science Fiction, Hive Mind, Mallory interacting with multiple Cody characters, Femslash | Completed (1/1 Chapters) | 6071 words | AU / Spies and Secret Agents / Hive Mind

Bond type AU. Mallory is Alpha (Quartermaster) of The Cooperative. The Langdon quadruplets are a perk (read nuisance) that comes with the job.

Atonement (Completed) by Starboundwanderer (AO3) Relationships: Michael Langdon x Mallory | Tags: welcome to my spite fic, i'd already started it before the finale, but now it's fueled by a vicious need to fix what they did, it's another Hades and Persephone AU | Completed (8/8 Chapters) | 13900 words | AU / Hades and Persephone

When Michael hears about a witch more powerful than Cordelia, he goes to see if the rumors are true. When he sees Mallory, he makes a choice that will change their lives.

Camp Souvenir (Completed) by @sojournmichael (Tumblr) Relationships: Xavier Plympton x Female Reader | Tags: Sex, Oral (male receiving), use of camera | Completed (1/1 Chapters) | 2000 words | Canon Divergent

Xavier wants to show you just how useful his clunky 80′s VHS recorder can be.

Lipstick Lullabies (Completed) by HadesRuinsEverything (AO3) / @hadesruinseverything (Tumblr) Relationships: Michael Langdon x Coco St. Pierre Vanderbilt | Tags: Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Dirty Talk, Daddy Kink | Completed (1/1 Chapters) | 1280 words | Canon Divergent

“Defile me any way you like.”

Coco and Langdon have an intimate encounter…

Repentance (Completed) by icylangdon (AO3) / @icylangdon (Tumblr) Relationships: Michael Langdon x Female Reader | Tags: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Priests, Priest Kink, Blasphemy, Church Sex, Reader-Insert, Religion Kink, Dirty Talk, Masturbation, Exhibitionism, Verbal Humiliation, Humiliation, Boot Worship, Blow Jobs, Rough Oral Sex, Oral Sex, Power Play, Punishment, Seven Deadly Sins, Spanking, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Rough Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgasm Denial, Overstimulation, Female Ejaculation, Dom/sub Undertones, Dom Michael | Completed (1/1 Chapters) | 7754 words | AU / Priest Michael

you’re a sinner. luckily for you, michael langdon is willing to help you repent.

Savage Garden (WIP) by flowerless (AO3) Relationships: Michael Langdon x Female Reader | Tags: young!Michael, sub!Michael, slow burn, Eventual Smut | Last Updated: 2020-03-15 (10/? Chapters) | 40215 words | AU / Canon Divergent

Young Michael Langdon—crybaby Satan and cherubic terror—has been incidentally slaughtering the help left and right, much to Constance Langdon’s dismay. In a last-ditch effort to wash her hands of the growing patron saint of violence and angst, Constance hires a new nanny who has no clue she is about to be a founding blueprint for the apocalypse.

To Love a Monster (Completed) by SisteroftheMoon (AO3) / @guiltyfiend (Tumblr) Relationships: Michael Langdon x Female Reader | Tags: POV Female Character, Books, Reading, Young Michael Langdon, Canon-Typical Violence, Antichrist, Friendship, Soulmates, Friends to Lovers | Completed (1/1 Chapters) | 8563 words | AU / Pre-Canon Divergent

You are an outcast with an obsession with monsters and villains. Michael Langdon is a boy who goes to your high school. You barely know him, but he knows you.

the undone and the divine (Completed) by @lvngdvns (Tumblr) Relationships: Michael Langdon x Female Reader | Tags: Priest!Michael, Antichrist!reader, religion kink, blasphemy, oral sex (m. and fem. receiving), vaginal fingering, spanking, misuse of rosary beads, rough sex, choking, slight degradation, minor cum play, power play | Completed (1/1 Chapters) | 7754 words | AU / Priest Michael / Antichrist Reader / Canon Divergent

In spite of all odds, Father Michael Langdon finds himself among the residents of Outpost Three, where he learns a few lessons in the nature of temptation.

Thank you to those who sent in these works! Please continue sending submissions to ahs-source.tumblr.com/submit or through the Tumblr mobile app to continue celebrating the writers in the community!

Previous FF Fridays: March 6th | March 13th part 1 and part 2 | March 20th

#American Horror Story Fanfiction #AHS Fanfiction #AO3 #Michael Langdon #Xavier Plympton #Mallory #Coco St. Pierre Vanderbilt #Madison Montgomery #Jim Mason #Duncan Shepherd #Michael Langdon x Reader #Michael Langdon x Mallory #Xavier Plympton x Reader #Michael Langdon x Coco St. Pierre Vanderbilt #Millory #American Horror Story #long post #FF Friday #pt 1 of 2

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crimsonkook · 5 years

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Michael in his room hearing all the bodies dropping in the outpost

#michael langdon #cody fern #ahs mallory #coco st. pierre vanderbilt #mr gallant #ahs #ahs season 8 #ahs apocalypse #ahs8 #american horror story #billie lourd #evan peters #leslie grossman #michael langdon x reader

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raleigh-ocean · 5 years

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first meeting w/ coco

this is the same reader as in her other ‘first’s! this time i’m bringing you circus performer!reader and I’m digging it so much? I hope you enjoy it!

how could Coco feel this way for someone she just met?

while holding you in her arms, covering as much as she could so you both didn’t stand out much, she thought she was nuts

and Cordelia was going to kill her for sure

however she kept holding her umbrella better with her free hand to shelter you both from the night rain

it all started when some of the girls wanted to go to a circus that arrived in town

a different plan than stay at the Academy in their free day

so Coco, Mallory and some others got tickets easily after talking with Cordelia for permission

once they got there, they didn’t expect to feel such strong magic flowing around the whole tent

it confused them and for a moment they thought the magic it was theirs

but when Coco laid her eyes on you, she knew they weren’t the source of such power

come on, it wasn’t even possible that a regular human being could do that

watching you jump and move, always as if you were in some trance, made her heart squeeze

by the time the whole function ended, all the witches knew for sure that it wasn’t possible nor normal that someone could bend themselves that much nor actually breath fire without any trick

and then they caught in time how one of your fellow had to hold you, all feverish, before what it seemed your boss shoved you behind the curtain with an angry face

all of them decided to take the matter in their hands

Coco was so afraid at the moment? she kept being in silence while the rest were deliberating what to do

they all decided to go find Cordelia

Mallory, in exchange, frowned for a second before telling them to go ahead while them - Coco and her - stayed there, standing guard

‘c’mon Coco, we are getting them out of there’

‘but we-’

‘if we wait for Cordelia maybe we won’t have a chance anymore’

one would think Coco was the one getting both in trouble, but Mallory was always the one coming up with the plans

this involved using concilium in like five performers and telekinesis in the director, which was beating you for ‘putting up such a shameful show’

and that’s how Coco was trying now to hold you against her body, following Mallory to get the fuck out of there as fast as you three could, in case the spells didn’t work as well as they two thought

‘who are you’ your voice is weak, both tired and hurt, but you are holding onto Coco as if your life depended of it (kinda it does) ‘why are you doing this’

Mallory, which seemed to not care about the rain, only turned her head enough to give a quick look at Coco

‘we witches have to have each other backs’

‘now you are safe’ Coco mumbled that, both trying to make you believe it and herself too

you looked at Coco as if she was an angel that came down on Earth to safe you

you, out of all people

you, that always thought nothing was good in your life

you, that passed out in the arms of an angel

Coco panicked when you went limp in her arms tbh

but she did her best to keep holding you

with Mallory’s help, the three of you managed to arrive to the Academy after they took turns to piggyback you all the way

oh boy Cordelia is beyond furious

more for the thought of anything bad happening to Coco or Mallory

but at the same time she is really proud of how quick on their feet they were

unconscious, you skipped the biggest scold ever given under the Academy’s roof, with Misty trying to help you lower the fever + trying to heal as many the wounds as you had

once you woke up fully the next day around night, feeling like crap in an unknown place, everything feels like a dream

maybe it was or maybe you were dead and that’s was your heaven

that Coco was by your side, reading a book, didn’t help at all with the thought of you were in heaven

i mean, how can possibly be that such an angel was by your side

‘where am i’ it’s barely a whisper, trying to move your tired and beat body, but Coco put her gentle hands on you to keep you in place

‘home’

another soft whisper

one that you believe in right away

Coco didn’t know why she said that, it just felt right

your face was one of pure relief upon hearing that one word, before breaking in a sobbing mess

something inside Coco breaks and ache, but she tries to comfort you by stroking your hair with care

something else start to grow, barely a baby sprout, one that make her promise herself that she was going to protect you

and let me tell you

Coco’s promises are forever

#coco st. pierre vanderbilt #coco st. pierre vanderbilt x reader #coco x reader #ahs imagine #ahs imagines #ahs coven #ahs apocalypse #american horror story #how would be

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consultingsnowqueen · 5 years

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Wasteland, Baby! Part 8: The Start of All Things that are Left to Do

Notes: This is the end of Maureen and Michael’s journey. I hope you’ve enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Thank you all so much for the positive feedback as well!

Tags: @tribble-from-wonderland @ladynuwanda

Maureen watched as Marie made the first move that triggered the battle. She immediately slit Dinah’s throat as a tribute for Papa Legba, who appeared moments later.

“I want his soul, Laveau!”

“No!” Maureen cried. “His soul is Heaven’s!”

Madison looked between Papa and Maureen. “What’s so great about his soul anyways?”

“It’s powerful. He’d make a great ally. Our problem is that it’s currently the property of Satan. I’m guessing you all want his soul, too?” Angelo offered.

“Well, it’d be ideal,” Myrtle muttered.

The initial shock was over and the demons rushed forward to surrounded the witches. Angelo and Maureen immediately began slaying the demons as Michael walked forward to talk to Cordelia.

“You’re too late, Miss Supreme. My father has—”

He was cut off by a stream of bullets piercing through him. Maureen screamed as his eyes rolled back and he collapsed.

“We don’t have much time before he wakes back up!” Madison yelled. “Coco, take Mallory to the bath upstairs!”

Coco and Mallory immediately began running upstairs.

“I’ll go with you!” Maureen offered, taking down demons that appeared in their way.

“Maureen?” Mallory asked, when they were in the bathroom, away from any danger.

“Yes?” Maureen asked, poised to shoot an arrow should someone enter.

“Thank you. I know this must be hard for you considering how you feel about Michael.”

Maureen smiled at this and shrugged. “This is my job.”

Angelo, Myrtle, and Cordelia ran upstairs to follow the others and hold off Langdon.

“What’s the plan?” Angelo asked, turning to the women.

“Mallory will do Tempus Infinitum and hopefully that should work,” Myrtle explained.

“Hopefully?” Angelo asked, looking quite exasperated. “Gabriel said you had a solid plan!”

“That’s as solid as you’re getting. Have some faith,” Cordelia snapped.

“I’m one of God’s best angels. I run on faith, Ma’am.”

The screams of Marie and Coco hit them suddenly and they cringed. Angelo shook his head, feeling quite hopeless.

“I hope you’re all ready,” he muttered.

Maureen suddenly appeared beside him. “Angelo, Mallory is weak. I don’t know if she’ll be able to go through with this.”

Myrtle cursed as Cordelia sighed. They looked at each other and Cordelia smiled as she placed a hand on Myrtle’s shoulder. Myrtle’s face flashed with realization.

“Delia, you can’t be serious.”

“I have to. It’s up to Mallory now. She’s the next Supreme.”

Angelo swallowed thickly but immediately chuckled. “At least you know your soul is saved.”

Maureen looked at him and snapped her fingers in a moment of realization. “Michael said something a bit ago when we were alone and what you did to Andre reminded me of it. I think I can stop him.”

Michael appeared before them looking quite tired… and bloody. Angelo cringed at his torn and bloodied clothing.

“I can’t believe you got with that,” he whispered.

“Wait!” Michael cried out, holding out his arm as Cordelia, Myrtle, Angelo, and Maureen all got ready to attack. Michael faltered, sighing, revealing how exhausted he was. “Please… just wait.”

They relaxed as Michael sniffled and shrugged. “I give up, Maureen. You’re right. I don’t want this anymore. My demons are below reveling in their victory as I promised to kill the Supreme. The thing is… I don’t want to anymore.”

Cordelia and Myrtle looked at each other, furrowing their brows in confusion. Suddenly, Madison, Marie, and Coco ran towards them from behind Michael. Cordelia gasped and Michael smiled sadly.

“I can’t hurt anyone else. I want this all over with.”

Michael walked towards Maureen and cupped her face.

“Maureen, my love. This apocalypse, this destruction, this world was never my kingdom, even when my father promised me that it was. This whole world was just a wasteland to me before I met you. If I lose you, my world will end. I love you, my angel.”

Maureen leaned up and kissed him, feeling tears stream down her face when she pulled away.

“Cordelia, can you fix this?” Maureen asked, looking back.

Cordelia smiled sadly as she hugged her girls.

“I think I can fix all of this. However, I don’t know about Michael. No matter what we do, his soul belongs to his father. He is the Anti-Christ.”

Angelo frowned at this, turning away so he wouldn’t have to watch Maureen cry or reveal that he was crying with her. Michael nodded, standing tall.

“Do what you have to do. I don’t fear my father anymore. The short time I had with Maureen was worth everything, and I would do anything to keep her safe. Go on, drive your sword through me, Angelo.”

Angelo choked and shook his head with a sad smile. “I’m not gonna to do that to you. It isn’t my place.”

Maureen looked to Angelo for any sign of support, but he just shrugged and smiled at her. “Maureen, you’re the worthiest angel of us all. Think.”

Maureen nodded, looking at the other women for support. They followed Angelo’s lead, nodding.

“Michael, you said something before… that your soul was mine. Is that true?”

Michael nodded, looking a bit caught off guard. It was inappropriate to be so romantic in such a dire time, he supposed. Plus, it was a passing comment. True, but passing.

“Yes, of course it is. Everything I have, every part of me is yours.”

“Then I guess I can be selfish… and claim what is mine,” Maureen said, smiling with venom and laughing now. Angelo nodded at her, proudly smiling as he realized that his student no longer needed him.

“Now Cordelia!” Maureen yelled and the other gasped as Cordelia plunged a dagger into her stomach. She smiled as Michael’s eyes widened and nodded to him.

“It’ll be okay,” she whispered.

Maureen backed up and aimed her arrow at Michael’s heart. He looked at her, his face showing his scared, innocent side. She almost turned back, but no.

“I claim this soul…”

There was only one chance.

“… For myself!”

The beam of light shot forward at Michael. At the same time Mallory cried out, “Tempus Infinitum!”

The world went black for a few moments before Mallory woke up in a bed. This wasn’t what she wanted. Did she fail? Was she at the Outpost? No… this was her room at Miss Robichaux’s. She did recognize it and Coco was sitting on her own bed.

“Mallory, hurry up! Zoe is going to teach us about tarot cards today.”

Mallory got out of bed and sighed in relief. Perhaps she did do something right if Zoe and Coco were still alive. Seeing the other witches alive was shocking, but in a good way. They greeted her happily, waving at her like she thought was usual… before everything else happened. Coco and Mallory reached the dining hall where ornate cards were spread over the table.

“There you are, girls! Feel free to pick up the cards and look at them,” Queenie offered.

Misty Day was examining one and smiled. “This one is my favorite. It’s The Magician. He represents new beginnings.”

Misty handed the card to Mallory so she could examine it, but Mallory almost dropped it when she saw the illustration. It looked a little too eerie and reminded her of a certain someone from her past. It was the Archangel Angelo himself. The likeness of the card was too spot on to be anyone other than him.

“I prefer this one,” Zoe said, handing another card to Mallory. “This one is The Lovers.”

Mallory looked at Zoe for a moment, almost afraid to look at the card. It was just as she expected. Two angels had their wings wrapped around each other as they kissed. One was extremely familiar to her… in fact, in another life they did everything together. The other shocked her but it also confirmed that she’d done everything right. Michael and Maureen were together in Heaven and now Michael was an angel.

“There was good in him, I guess,” she whispered.

“What was that?”

Mallory turned to see Cordelia standing behind her, smiling down at her student.

“Oh nothing. It’s just my guardian angel… she must be looking out for me.”

#michael langdon #michael langdon fanfic #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon x oc #langdon #cody fern #ahs #american horror story #american horror story apocalypse #american horror story coven #ahs fanfic #american horror story fanfic #cordelia goode #ahs coven #myrtle snow #madison montgomery #mallory ahs #coco st. pierre vanderbilt #marie laveau

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vintagegoddess12 · 5 years

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Radioactive Salvation Ch.4

[Cordelia Goode x Reader]

Chapter: 1, 2, 3

A/N: Sorry if this took too long. Also, this is one of the lengthy chapters to come up in this fic. Hope you like it. Tell me what you think ok? Love lots.

Tagging: @cordeliasflowergirl @athenamgh @stevenuniversetanzanite @germansarechill @chonisbestmistake @alurous

Cordelia’s P.O.V

I look at your familiar face and thought to myself: I have missed you so bad. I want to reach across the table and hold your hand, feel your warmth, one that I've missed so much. I miss your hands intertwined with mine. I just want to be close to you and remember how it feels to be complete once again. But I can't. You're sitting across from me at the dinner table, paying no attention to my thoughts. You used to know what I'm feeling and thinking, especially if they are so loud. Now, I'm just one of your guests that you pay no mind to. Your attention is divided between Michael and Myrtle giving you compliments for the meal. The world may have ended but you still found a way to bring food to the table and be a great hostess, one thing Myrtle and Bubbles - your mentors - thought you in the academy. "This is really magnificent, darling," exclaimed Myrtle, "how did you find this fresh seafood?" You were about to answer when Mallory, who helped you prepare in the kitchen, excitedly answered, "she used this magic that took apart the components of the nutrition cube we eat then brought them back to their original state" "That's my witch," Michael said after letting out a chuckle. His hand landed on your arms and you smiled at him upon contact. I felt Madison's stare at me so I decided to keep my reactions to myself. If I have to be honest, the gesture sent a pang of pain in my chest. The world is about to end and all I have are regrets when I used to have you. I failed you as a partner and as your Supreme to keep you safe from the dangers of the world. I feel guilty feeling this way. I was so caught up in my thoughts, I didn't even know the Antichrist finished eating. "Excuse me, ladies," Michael catching the attention of everyone in the table, "I'll leave you alone so you can catch up." He glanced at everyone then headed for his office but not before lightly touching your shoulder. I can sense that everyone is wary of his actions. "For someone who caused the end of the world, he looks too darn jolly," Madison commented not too long after he walked away, breaking the silence. Suddenly, all the attention in the room went to the woman seating in front of me. You were not bothered by all the eyes focused on you and kept on eating. "So are you like his girlfriend or something?" Madison asked, voicing out the thought every witch in the table has. Her choice of word made me wince inside. You looked up and met her gaze. "Nope," you answered and caused Madi's brow to raise. "I'm just here to pay a kind act that he did for me." "Was there anything kind that came out of the person?" Madison retaliated, her voice laced with poison. You stopped eating and focused on her, "Well, you're here, aren't you?" Your reminder of her resurgence caused the witch's jaw to drop and made her silent for a while. "I believe what she's trying to say, dear, is why are you here when you left the coven?" Myrtle tried to reach for your hand on the table but removed it and place it in your lap. "I didn't leave the coven. I simply stayed away." You answered with a weak smile across your face. "We looked for you," I blurted out loud, causing everyone to look at me. You turned your face to me, pain passing in your eyes. I somehow regret saying it. "Really?" You replied with a trace of mockery. "Did you find me?" That answer stung and I had no words to make up a reply. I wanted to say that I tried really hard to look for you. I even asked Papa Legba if you were in hell. After a few hits of cocaine, he said you weren't there. I exhausted my Power of Sight and the connection we have but I still failed. I couldn't even feel your presence, even now. I'm starting to think it's because of Langdon's magic. "I didn't," was all that I could simply say. I saw disappointment pass in your face before Coco spoke. "But I did." You instantly looked at the witch, as if waiting for the words that will come out of her mouth. Your eyes became glassy, tears forming in it. "It's still blurry to me but I remember seeing you at the academy," she kept trying to remember. I have to admit she got me hanging to her every word. "You were standing over a bed," I looked at you and your eyes were going wide. "Oh and you look like shit," Coco continued, "you were with --" You curled your fist and uttered a spell to bind her lips together, stopping the words to come out of her mouth. "If you do remember," you blinked back the tears in your eyes, "then you know what's at stake." "What is at stake?" Myrtle asked but you remained focused at Coco. "It's not like there are any more witches that will die if you let this nutrition label to speak," Madison matter-of-factly said. You looked at her, shocked. "They're all dead, thanks to this voodoo bitch." She tilted her head to Dinah, who is seated the other end of the table. "Hey, it's kill or be killed," Dinah replied, looking at you. "Oh don't worry, backstabbing bitch, you will be killed," Madison threatened. You remained silent during the exchange. Hearing your sisters die seemed like news to you. I wonder if Michael had told you what he did. If he had, you would definitely run away from him. You don't tolerate violence, never did. You were about to speak but then you were interrupted by Ms. Mead or her robot counterpart. She whispered something to you that caught your attention. You released your hold on Coco before standing up. "I'm afraid the Q and A portion of the evening are finished, ladies." You looked at each one of us. Your stare lingered a moment at me but maybe I was just dreaming. "I have some matters to attend to." You then started to walk away. I remained still to my seat, unsure whether I should follow you or watch over my girls. I want to say a lot of things to you because I'm not sure I'll walk out of this place alive. Myrtle noticed my internal crisis. She nods her head, letting me go after you. It was the push I needed to stand up and follow you. I just want to see you smile for me, one last time. --- "I have found the answer to your question, darling," Michael's voice echoed through the halls when he greeted you. "Questions," you corrected him. "They multiplied." I ran after you and it was not my intention to eavesdrop in your conversation. However, something inside me tells me to do so. I hid to the closest pillar and used a cloaking spell to hinder anyone from seeing me. "Oh my, those witches are real trouble, aren't they?" He commented to himself. "Careful," you reminded him. "I'm still one of them." "I assure you, not for long." His smile sent shivers down my spine. What does he mean by not for long? He inched closer to you before speaking. "I am not responsible for the tragic death of Ms. Vanderbilt." "So I was informed," you coldly replied before glancing to Ms. Mead. "Yes. There was an intrusion earlier. A man," Ms. Mead left the room while he was speaking, "who calls himself Brock." She returned with a scruffy looking man in chains and dragged him a few feet closer to me. You approached the man while Michael continued to speak. "He killed one of our people to gain access. Disguised himself as a guest to the gathering. Got Ms. Vanderbilt alone in her room then killed her." You stood in from of him and, unknown to you, me. Brock, on his knees, kept trying to break free from the chains that bound him but I'm guessing Ms. Mead is making it tighter for him every time. You stared him down before softly asking, "Why?" He looked back at you, still fighting against his restraints, and replied, "because she left me in Santa Monica. She broke up our relationship for selfish reasons. She allowed me to die with the rest of the world." He was catching his breath. "Because I loathe her and revenge is a dish best served cold." You closed your eyes and your fist. You only do that when you're trying to control your temper. Something about what he said sparked something in you. "Such a shame, isn't it?" Michael teased from behind you. "Your excuse for killing is all for selfish reasons too." He started walking towards you. "Sadly, all your efforts are wasted." "No, it wasn't. I killed her dead." Brock spat back. "No witch stays dead for too long, moron." Ms. Mead stated. You remain unmoved in your position. Michael is now directly behind you, caressing your hair, making you calm down. Brock processed the idea of her ex-girlfriend being a witch. "More reason for me to kill her," he hissed and tried, even more, to get out of his restraints. You shot your eyes open with his response. Your body tensed and you clenched your fists even more if that is possible. Your eyes focused only on him. "Let me handle this, darling," Michael whispered to you. "I will make sure he gets the punishment he deserves." He reached for your closed fist. "Does that satisfy you?" Michael seems different around you. His commanding presence still remains but there is more to what he is showing. More concerned. More human. "No, it won't." You shot him a look that made him step back. "I will handle this." Michael signaled Ms. Mead to step back also. Whatever you're about to do made Michael smirk. He looks proud. You raised your hand and called the fire from one of the candles. The flame rested in your palm. You stared at Brock while the light in your hands illuminates your face. There is something sinister with your expression. "You think that revenge is a dish best served cold," you knelt in front of him and looked at him eye to eye, "well, witches like it hot." With that, you closed your fist and seconds later, he was screaming and writhing on the floor. Smoke diffuses from the metal chains you're burning. A small sinister smile forms in your face. I looked for the expressions of Michael and his confidante. There they are, standing like two proud parents. I can't believe this is happening. You can't even hurt a fly. Never would you take pleasure from inflicting pain. The torture stopped as you open your fist. You walked away from him, anger blazing in your eyes. Brock lay at the floor, breathing heavily and slinging curses at you. You stopped in the middle of the room before speaking. "On the count of three, you run as fast you can," you said coldly, "and pray to whatever god you believe in to save you." With a flick of your wrist, the shackles that bind him broke. "One..." The burn marks of his torture are now evidently black against his skin. "Two..." He tries to stand, ignoring the pain of his wounds. "Three!" You bellowed. He was practically limping when he tried to run. "Why did you do that? You could have killed him right there and then." Ms. Mead asked. "Michael knows why." You replied. She looked at the figure near the stairs. His stance proves that he is indeed having fun with what you're doing, his gaze locked on you. A smirk formed in his lips before answering, "To give him hope." You raised your hands once again, this time a man instead of a flame touched your palm. Brock is limp against your grasp in his neck. "You bitch!" Brock uttered under his breath. "You really had the hate coming! Freaks!" How dare he judge our kind? Behind the pillar where I hide, I was ready to impale him using my magic but you threw him against the wall near me. His body fell hard on the floor. Before he can recover, you threw him again. "You're a murderer and you dare judge?" Your voice filled with anger. You threw him again with more force. I think I hear a bone or two broke. "Do you remember what happened to men like him?" Michael asked, probably triggering a memory in you. What he said further ignited the flame of anger inside you. "Oh, I do" You pinned Brock against a wall with your mind. I can sense that you intend to end him right there. You were never a killer, even to those who deserve it and I'm not going to let you start being one now. How will I stop you? I need to get to you. I focused my mind on everyone's consciousness in the room. I can feel three heads. I see Brock's first. It's all hazy and no straight thoughts. In the brink of death, his mind is on survival mode. Then there were two. Your's and the Antichrist's. I see darkness, in both of them. If I choose the latter, he will realize that I am here and I don't know what he will do. But how do I set you apart? I had an idea. I sent a cool whisp of air in your way, enough to trigger a response. True enough, you flinched. It caused small shock in your consciousness. I took that as an opportunity to enter your mind. It felt so wrong to be doing this. You despise the idea of mind reading, that's why Bubbles rarely use her powers around you. You would always say that no one should be privy of their most intimate thoughts other than one's self. While trying to communicate with you, the energy in the room shifted. The flames flickered. The temperature in the hall got hotter. I can feel sweat trickling down my face. The forces seem to be gathering in the middle of the room, in you. Now, what is happening? "The descent is upon us," the Antichrist seemingly answered my question. What does it have to do you?. He called out your name and said, "you know what to do." Suddenly, your thoughts focused on gripping Brock's neck tighter. I used my inner voice to talk to you. "[Y/n], don't do this." You were surprised by the intrusion in your thoughts. I was shocked however when you breathed heavier than usual. That seemed to anger you more and focus on your victim. "If you kill him, you'll be just like him," I tried to reason out in your head. You gave one last push on your hold on him before you screamed in agony. I was terrified for you that I lost concentration in your consciousness. Brock fell on the floor, breathless. So did you, as you continue screaming, in what I can only guess as pain. I tried to enter your mind again but it is completely sealed off. My instincts say that I should run to you but Michael did it first. "[Y/n], what are you feeling?" He asked as he helps you stand. I remained behind the pillar, assessing the situation. I believe you wouldn't reveal my presence to him. "He doesn't deserve to die," you exclaimed, looking at the other slumped figure on the floor. "He doesn't deserve to live either," Michael replied to your sentiment. The two of you exchanged looks as if understanding what the other meant. The way we used to. You returned your gaze to the figure, who's now trying to stand up on his own. What are you going to do? You shook free from the Antichrist's hold on you. Once again, the energy in the room shifted - going to you. You raised your hand, calling forth the wind. "Haec pro maledicto sunt," you started, a whisp of air rests in your palm. "Sit corpore separata." You pointed the ball of air as you walk to Brock, his eyes now pleading of mercy. "Sit corpus attingunt." The whisps of air are now changing color to black. His body began shaking. You stepped closer. "Mitte animam ad infernum." You stopped in front of him, beside me. You looked at your right side, knowing, feeling, that I am there. Your facial expression similar to a hurt child. Innocent yet resembles the pain of ten lifetimes. You sent the ball of black air to Brock's chest as you finish your curse. "Descensum!" Just like that, his body stopped shaking and breathing. Silence covered the hall and he remained limp on the floor. He remained dead. The silence was broken by Ms. Mead, asking what will she do now. As if this situation usually occurs. The Antichrist then answered, "hide the body but don't burn it. He can still wake up if [y/n] wants to." She proceeded as she was told. You didn't kill him. You just sent him to eternal damnation until you don't want to anymore. The next thing that happened surprised me just as much as Michael. You turned on your heal and slapped him. The echo still ringing in my ear. "How could you lie to me?" You shouted, barely a question. How could you not tell me that they're gone!" "Who? The witches," He seemed to have an idea on your sudden outburst. "Yes, the witches!" "I had to," he replied calmly. If that got on my nerve, it surely did the same thing to you. "Had to? When was killing ever a necessity!?" "It is the acceptable action so you can perform your role," he tried to reason with you. You shook your head and breathed out a heavy sigh. You faced the direction of the decontamination area and started walking. "Where are you going?" "Outside," you looked back at him. "Pray to your father that nothing bad happens to me out there or everything you've ever done will go to waste." Anger is once again evident in your voice. "Don't. You. Dare. Follow. Me." and you continued walking out.

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Translation of the curse in Latin (thanks google translate):

Let this be a curse.

Let the body and soul separate.

Let the body be untouched.

Send the soul to hell!

#radioactive salvation #cordelia goode #cordelia goode x reader #ahs imagine #ahs apocalypse #michael langdon #michael langdon x reader #sarah paulson imagine #sarah paulson x reader #ms. mead #madison montgomery #myrtle snow #mallory #coco st. pierre vanderbilt

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malloryslourd · 5 years

Text

The Coven With A Swimmer Girlfriend

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Request: The Coven with a swimmer girlfriend please? - Anonymous

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Warnings: Some Strong Language

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A/N: told y'all i would post two tn but my dumbass accidentally deleted another set :(

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Cordelia Goode

wow Cordelia Goode a sucker for something that shows off her partner's body, what? no. never.

yeah just kidding we know how she be- she's super supportive of you and always makes sure you feel good about yourself so she definitely hypes you up when you're wearing a swimsuit

sits poolside at the coven pool when you're swimming laps

always making sure you're not pushing yourself too much

and her healing techniques??? hello?? hot bubble baths, massages with essential oils - the BEST

she never misses a swim meet, it's literally illegal if she does- she'll literally go to jail for it

Misty Day

Misty loves to swim in general but she especially loves to swim with you

it's probably from all the time she spent swimming in bayous as a kid

definitely just splashes you with water all the time just to get on your nerves

she isn't a "fancy swimmer" or so she calls you but she definitely does enjoy splashing around in the water with you

she'll get you to teach her all the different swim strokes you do and how to actually do them correctly

does she learn? no she's too busy watching you and not taking in ANY information at all

Zoe Benson

while you're swimming laps or anything of the sort she's probably sunbathing with a book in her hand

if she's not reading she's watching you with a big smile on her face until you catch her staring

or she's sitting with her legs hanging into the pool, occasionally calling you over to her

she's always complementing your body and how good you are at swimming

Zoe loves to see the smile and blush on your face when she says anything along the lines of that

after every swim meet she always gives you the biggest hug and kiss even if you're still wet

Madison Montgomery

brief second real quick- imagine Madison ALWAYS going out with you when you're swimming but always claiming it's by pure coincidence that she just needs to work on her tan at that time

well yeah she always does that

she knows how important swimming is to you so she tries her best to be helpful

she feels bad if she misses a swim meet and insist on finding away to make it up to you even if you say it's fine

forever making comments about you to just boost your confidence or to just be dirty Madison

"Nice outfit" "Looking good L/N" "You pull that off well, but I bet I can pull it over better"

Queenie

I don't know how many times I have to say it but I'm saying it again: Queenie is the MOST supportive girlfriend out there

she's always at every swim meet, always suggesting ways to get better, and she never stops encouraging you

as long as you're doing good and you're happy she's happy

if she can't make a meet for whatever reason she sends you text like "you're going to do amazing! i love you" and she just spams you with variations of that

has she almost gotten in a fight over late whistle blows or incorrect time keeping? maybe

but was it worth? Hell yeah she's fighting for her baby

Coco St. Pierre Vanderbilt

No One: Coco: My girlfriend is kinda like a mermaid

gets you to carry her on your back and claims it's for "training reasons"

you literally can't argue with her so if she's around while you're in a pool you just gotta do it

the loudest bitch at a swim meet- like you'd think she would be screaming at a football game she's so loud

offers you massages all of the time

if she couldn't make it to a swim meet you have to call her immediately after to tell her how everything went

Mallory

Mal is in love with everything you do and the same thing goes for swimming

she just looks at you with the BIGGEST amount of love in her eyes when you talk about swimming

after swim meets or practices she runs you a hot bath with a few oils and makes you soak so your muscles don't hurt too much

she is always making sure you don't get yourself hurt

you always messing with her in the pool and her trying to act like she's mad

gives you the biggest kiss before AND after swim meets always for good luck

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lonelylavenderluke · 6 years

Text

Curious thoughts // Chapter four

American Horror Story: Apocalypse

Micheal Langdon x (Cordelia’s daughter) Reader

Rating:emotional pain, (I think it’s angsty I’ll let you guys decide)

Tag list//: @frozenhuntress67, @the-captain-kidd

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“Blasted witch” Ariel hissed from where he stood just below me, I was on the ceiling holding in my laughter after spending the last half hour messing with the Chancellor.

“When I find that god forsaken girl, she will be gone for good..” he growled as Baldwin laughed, “she’s a child leave her be, how would you feel if Cordelia requested for you to stay at her school for girls... she’s merely entertaining herself”. Scoffing at the Ariel continued to check for anything else I had tampered with, just then the door opened to reveal Michael, “Alpha” both men got up bowing their heads in respect. “What seems to be the issue, Chancellor?” He questioned looking at Ariel who was struggling to keep calm.

“My love what have you been doing?”

“Nothing much, I was bored... you take to long”

I smirked seeing Michael shake his head at my response, “Michael, I request that...that girl... that witch...whom you asked to stay behind to be the voice of the witches, she has to leave she has no place amongst warlocks!” Ariel demanded as his voice raised, a bolt of pain shot through my head making me whimper as I bit into my arm to silence any sounds I made. “And why should I, what has Elisha done to deserve such ill thoughts towards her?” Michael exclaimed staring down the man that stood in front of him. My head was rushing, I’d been using my new abilities to long, since I’d always been taught prolonged exposure of any new ability can cause extreme repercussions for young witches.

“Michael.... my head’s hurting”

I called out in a pained voice, exerting as much energy as I had left to staying on the ceiling against gravities will. Michael moves subtly to just below where I was as if anticipating my fall, “she shows me no respect to which I should be owed, I do hold a higher title than she does after all” Ariel states his argument. “How so? After all she is the daughter of...” Michael began to say before being cut off by Ariel, “bastard daughter, Cordelia never married the girls father or did the little witch not inform you of that” he smirked as if thinking he was winning the argument.

“Elisha what do you have to say to all this?” Michael spoke aloud moving his arms to catch me as I let go with my powers and fell straight into them. “Head rush” I moaned shaking my head slightly to get to grips with t my bearings once more. “Well?” Michael requested as he helped me to stand, looking at the man in front of us I laughed mockingly, “what do you expect I’m bored there’s not much to do in this hole in the ground after all you forbid me to interact with anyone but yourselves and Michael” I waved them off turning to leave the room. “How dare you turn your back on your Supreme!” Ariel exploded, his powers attempting to throw me off my feet, but I barely moved just a gust of wind that blew my hair, “I’d watch your tone Ariel.... or have you forgotten who I am” I warned looking over my shoulder at three warlocks in the room, waving slightly I transmutated out of the room.

“She has got to go” Ariel snarled pointing a finger at Michael who simply chuckled, “and what good will that do?” Smirking he too followed after.

“Relax Ariel, if having her around makes him more compliant to what we ask then so be it besides she reminds me of a younger version of ourselves don’t you?” Baldwin quirked an eyebrow before taking a sip of whiskey from the glass in his hand.

“Who am I supposed to be?” I mumbled wandering out of my room for the first time in hours, my stomach aching the longer I went without eating.

I felt something crash into me, throwing us both off balance and onto the floor. Looking up I took note that it was Mallory who was the one to crash into me, she had tears running down her cheeks as she looked into my eyes in fear. “Mallory” I breathed out sighing before clinging onto her, “what happened are you okay? What happened?” I exclaimed trying to sooth her as she did me when ever I had my nightmares, “Langdon.... Langdon.. he... he..” She blubbered our in between spurts of sobs. “Oh Mallory...” I murmured holding her close to me in comfort.

After losing track of how long we were there I was finally able to her up, I gradually guided Mallory to her room. “Clean yourself up Mal, is there anything you want me to do?” I asked watching her cautiously as she perched on her small bed, “did anything weird happen for you?” She questioned quietly her voice nearly loud enough for me to hear. “He thinks I’m someone else....I don’t know who but even I’m starting to doubt myself” I murmured shaking my head softly before bidding her a goodbye before returning to what ever it was I had previously been set on doing.

“Whatever they’re doing to you.. it’s over... you don’t have to lie anymore to anybody especially me, I heard you Elisha I heard you please I’m on my knees begging....you have to remember”

Langdons words rattled in my brain as I rested in the library the sense of reassurance oozing from the old covered books that sat on the shelves.

“Have you ever been to New Orleans?”

NEW ORLEANS

The words screamed familiarity but I couldn’t find any relations within my memories of when I was a child. “Why New Orleans?” I murmured rubbing my temple in frustration. “You look lost little one?” Dinah annouced as she walked into the room her expression held one of concern, “I’m conflicted...” I stated as a look of realisation flickered across her features, “how so?” She investigated watching me closely an aura of familiar power washed over me as if I’d been near someone like her before, the same feeling I had when ever I was near Mallory or Coco. “There’s something inside me that’s telling me I know this place, these walls, the books on these shelves even the very bed I’ve been sleeping in for the past 18 months, the same can be said for you and Langdon it’s like I’ve met you both before but I have no memory of either of you... I didn’t really think of it much until earlier when Mallory crashed into me after her interview... but there’s this feeling inside of me that’s making me think that I really don’t feel like Adelaide Lestrange it’s really who I am..” I rambled on a sense of relief flurrying through me as I told all my worries to the older woman in front of me.

“Have you brought this up with anyone else?” She enquired watching me curiously as if what I had told her was the most intriguing thing she’d ever heard. “No” I mumbled looking into the fire place as voices and low mumbled rattled in my ear lobes as if muttering warnings of evil within reach of harming me.

“Does the name Elisha mean anything to you?” I asked after a few moments of silence between us before I got any type of reply.

“The name Elisha has several meanings it just depending on what language it is translated from, in Latin it means ‘the salvation of god’ whereas in Hebrew it can translate to ‘god is salvation’, either way it is referenced in the christian bible” Dinah explained to me as I thought over the meaning. “You seem to know a lot about it” I stated looking over at her looking for anything that gave away something about her, she chuckled shaking her head as she gave me a look with saddened eyes. “I use to know a girl called Elisha long before the war, she was sweet and playful by nature, when I last saw her she was expecting a baby but something happened and she was in a lot of pain” she hesitated looking right into my eyes as if searching for any recognition to the words she was saying. “What happened?” I asked the feeling of emptiness filled at the bottom of my stomach as I heard her finish her story.

“Her baby never made it to the half way point, there was so much blood... I was scared she’d die when I saw just how bad it all was...but then I remembered something that I was once told, Elisha was more than just a normal girl she was extraordinary and so she just about pulled through but she had suffered so much that she wailed for her lover and cried for the loss of their child...oh her mother wished for her to not suffer anymore.. I tried to help as best as I could but after that I never heard from Elisha agian” she finished with tears splintering in her eyes.

The pain inside me ran chaotically within me, I begged myself not to react but it seemed as if my insides were being ripped out as I whimpered quietly clutching my stomach. “That must of been horrific” I mumbled coughing slightly in reaction to the events that where unfolding inside my body. “Yes it was..” she seemed lost in thought as suddenly everyone began entering the library. “Wow you guys must of run here” Gallant laughed as he entered taking a seat beside me along with Coco.

“What’s going on?” I questioned as everyone took up places awaiting whatever it was that had made them arrive here. “Venable called an emergency meeting” was all Coco said before Venable appeared awaiting to a address us all.

“These past several months have been difficult for all of us.And perhaps, in my efforts to keep us safe, punitive measures have been taken too far.I believe now what we need is a moment of celebration, camaraderie.Which is why this weekend, as a gesture of goodwill, we will have a Halloween soiree” she explained looking round at us all as we became excited at the news of something different.

“in the style of a Victorian masquerade ball.” She finished locking eyes with me an evil glimmer shined in her eyes before glancing back round the room.

“It's Halloween this weekend?” Gallant exclaimed before clearing his throat, “If only my nana were here to enjoy it with me.”

“We've all lost track of time a bit.And this festive occasion is the perfect opportunity to remedy this.And I encourage you all to use your imaginations, to create what I am sure will be exquisite costumes.” Venable states a slight edge to the tone of her voice before growing more serious.

“Attendance is mandatory.”

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Everyone was busy with their costumes, excitement bubbling within their blood. I wanted to be excited, yet the daunting feel of the fact that if Venable was in fact telling the truth then I’d be turning 23.

“Knock, knock” I heard Emily’s voice from my door where she stood with it open, “greetings fellow outpost friend” she giggled entering my room in a giddy manner. “How’s your costume going?” She asked watching as I got up from the desk across from my vanity, “Oh you know same old same old, hows Timmy?” I smirked as she blushed ducking her head as I cackled with laughter. “Hush..” She squirmed waving her hands as we both laughed, “if your actually wondering it’s not going so well, I can’t decide what to do” I sighed as her smile fell from her face, “Do you want any help? I can help I mean I’m kinda already helping....” she went onto ramble before being stopped by my raised hand.

“First take a chill pill, in fact everyone in the hell hole needs to take one, second I’m fine I’ll figure something out in time so stop worrying yourself, and third well third can be you getting you bee-hind outta here and back to that boy of yours” I exclaimed shooing her off and out of my room as she flipped me off pulling a face whilst doing so making me laugh at her childishness. “Children” I laughed light heartedly before going back to what I was doing before hand. I was fiddling with a metal box that I had found in the floor boards of my room, it seemed to have only been a few years old not as old as I originally imagined it to be.

“What are you hiding?” I mumbled using one of Coco’s hair clips of pick the lock on it. After what seemed like hours I gave up letting my head fall against the desk in utter exhaustion, “what have I got to do just wave my hand and say ‘open’” I scoffed copying my words before hearing a clinking noise looking up in disbelief I scowled at myself, “you’ve got to be joking” I growled opening it up to examine the contents of the mysterious box.

There was a red and white mask inside, it seemed hand made for a feminine figure with elegant patterns shaped into it. Placing it down next to the box I continued on, finding three photos underneath. One was of a blonde haired girl that seemed to be floating in amongst these swam like trees, the second one was of a couple dancing by a fire I couldn’t make out their face but they seemed so happy together in that moment of happiness captured within the photo. The final one was of the same blonde haired girl with half her body sticking out of a car window her head tilted so I could barely make out what they looked like but the girl looked to be having fun. “Who are you?” I asked aloud looking in the backs of the see small messages written.

My 19th was the best I’d ever felt, thank you for it, E xx

I found a new ability with the others, maybe we can work them together one day?? E xx

The first time I let you drive my car I don’t know whether to forgive you for nearly crashing it or not, E xx

E xx

Staring at the messages in wonder I got up moving to my bed to lay down at looked at them more and more.

My mind was racing and pounding in an attempt to work out who the people in the pictures were, flashes of images crossed my mind but never clear enough to make sense. Always leaving me in the dark asking same questions.

Who are they??

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nightvision-of-thesoul · 5 years

Text

stolen hearts

this story is a long one, the longest i’ve ever written before, so it’s coming in smaller doses so it’s not overwhelming!! it started for my love and desire to write out the first scene with michael in it at the outpost, and sort of built on it from there. @nihilnovesubsole is my biggest supporter and i would never have started w/o her!!! i hope you all enjoy and want to read more- i wanted to set up the foundation before i moved into the smut but it’s coming >:) lemme know what you think!! (also, though she does take the action of mallory’s character in this part i did not take the reader in that direction after this i just liked that interaction!!)

@ritualmichael

PART 1

things are about to change at the outpost.

The warm, orange glow of the candles cascaded a false sense of security and sincerity over the extended dining hall, shadows and light playing around the room with one another. The smell of stew wafted through the stiflingly underground air. Though boiled snake would not always be considered an appetizing smell, hot food of any kind or quantity was a blessing compared to the small, flavorless cubes of protein we were normally subjected to. The cart’s handle rumbled underneath my hands as it passed over the tiny imperfections in the stone floor and I brought the meal in for the members of the elite, a group of whom I woefully could not consider myself.

From the opposite side of the room, I could hear the nasally, high pitched voice of Coco, replying to Ms. Mead about the gourmet luxury of the evening.

“You know, I have a strict rule about eating things with no legs, or, too many legs for that matter,” she stated in her usual disdainful manner, upturning her lips and trying to get a better look into the massive bowl in the cart that held inch long sections of the snakes that were bobbing up and down eerily in the broth.

“Eat it or don’t. No one’s gonna force it down ya.” Mead’s eyes were glued in an icy stare to Coco’s face as she answered the complaint, neglecting to hide what everyone else felt but was too tactful to manifest: complete disdain for Ms. Vanderbilt. I wasn’t the biggest fan of her either, but before the nuclear fallout I was her personal assistant. As arbitrary as it seems now, she was one of the nation’s biggest stars, with an ego to match: the apocalypse did little to change that mindset.

The other grays and I began ladling the soup into the lavish bowls, and despite the apparent protestations to eating something that slithered as such, the majority of the elites took the meal with gratitude. Coco’s nose was still risen towards the sky as I slid a full bowl in between her place settings, but she cautiously began poking around at smaller sections of the reptile as if to find the most appetizing segment before chowing down. There was little conversation as the servings were handed out, apart from a remark from Evie, who began sharing an anecdote about some kind of decadent snake soup she’d had in some place or another with someone of heightened societal position. Her desire to cling to her status of the past usually made her a point of ridicule, but the tale garnered a few chuckles nonetheless. As Dinah had pointed out, the soup was food, and we are all starving, too hungered to care about making any snide remarks directed at the ancient grandmother of Mr. Gallant.

My mouth watered as I returned the cart to its initial spot at the head of the table, looking down at what remained in the container and knowing my meal would not begin until hours after the purples had been satiated and moved on to the cocktail lounge to indulge themselves further. While it made sense, the only real reason for me even being granted into the fallout shelter being my affiliation with someone who could pay their way in, it still seemed unfair that I was the only member of our arriving quartet to be granted the short end of the stick, the position of servitude for all rather than just Coco. Instead, I was forced to watch her and everyone else live a lavish lifestyle that left me at the bottom of the food chain, picking up scraps and equating to little more in their eyes than the irradiated vermin that remained outside these walls. Every crack of Venable’s cane that reverberated throughout the Outpost was like a stab in the gut, never ceasing to remind me that every task I attended to slowly and carefully chipped away at my former dignity. My thoughts on classist injustices and the enticing smell of soup were cut short as a seldom heard voice chimed in to the minimal conversation, posing a question everyone seemed to have forgotten to be curious about.

“So, who’s in your office?” The voice belonged to Emily, one half of the pair of kids my age who had been brought to the shelter due to their “superior genetic makeup.” It was her room in which the multitude of snakes were found for this very meal, writhing around in her closet like they were caught in some kind of grotesque waltz. While no one questioned their presence, it was assumed they came from outside the fortress, though no mutations had been found, nor had there been any radiation detected in them at all. Only hours before, the alarms had been raised, and while Venable and Mead had tended to the security breach, no explanations were made. While it could’ve been snakes, just like the pigeon that set off the alarm earlier in the week, we all knew it wasn’t: the breach had been made by someone, and someone Venable clearly wasn’t ready to reveal.

“I beg your pardon?” Her deep voice came out strong and unwavering, inviting no real answer to that question, but getting one anyways.

“The alarms went off before, and someone came inside.” Emily’s voice was more pressing this time, and was followed up by her other half, Timothy.

“Who else is here?”

“All your questions will be answered in due course.” Venable’s gaze bored into Timothy and Emily, prompting an unspoken agreement to not urge the conversation along any further. Following the stern and pregnant pause, she finally turned her attention again to the whole of the room and gave a single command: “Eat.”

With the sound of her cane following the order, the regular chatter began to resume, though wary and calculated looks were now being passed from elite to elite, and with good reason. Who was it that came through those barricaded doors, and why was Venable so unwilling to share? With each new member that had joined us, they had wasted little time introducing the rest of us to the people we would be sharing our limited and claustrophobic space with. Why was this different?

Still standing in position by the head of the table, I had little time to formulate any more questions for myself as several loud wails suddenly arose from around the room. Several of the elites leapt from their chairs, sending the bowls of soup flying in disarray onto the floor. My first instinct was to feel contempt for their lack of gratitude, until I saw the reason behind their outburst: the snakes were once again whole, alive, and slithering through the broth, the candlelight glinting off their wet scales as they blithely passed through the trampling feet above them.

*****

“They were chopped up and boiled, how the fuck did they come back to life?” Coco’s voice could be heard again down the long corridor leading to the sitting area, rivaling the loud crackling in the fireplace. The snakes were the rampant subject of the evening still, even though Mead and the Fist had already taken the born-again creatures and disposed of them outside. No one had even approached the fact that the only hot meal in over a year had been a sham, everyone was simply too spooked to care. The circumstances surrounding the mysterious intruder had already heightened the general air of suspense and confusion, and the evening’s phenomenon did little to quell those feelings in everyone; even Venable was on edge.

“Beats me, I’m still wondering where the hell they came from,” Gallant replied, swirling around his glass of water as though it was a much-desired glass of wine after a long day at work. His eyes were fixed on the fire, his gaze reflecting the concern he felt. Unusual, considering his regular gift for levity in most situations. Typically, by now he’d find a way to make a joke about getting railed by a Hemsworth brother to lighten the mood.

“Maybe that is where they came from.” The words cut through the heat of the room like an icy blade, sending an inadvertent chill down my spine. They came from a man to my left, where I stood next to the doorway awaiting any requests with the other grays. I could see his silhouette outlined in my peripherals, but felt compelled by something, not to turn my head in the mysterious speaker’s direction.

The silence following the remark was palpable, broken only by the click of the stranger’s boots as they brought him around the edge of the room. Venable had taken her usual speaking position in front of the fire, standing with an exaggerated air of importance, a tight smile painted onto her face and her dark brown eyes locked onto the man as he approached her. His hair was long, just a touch past his shoulders, and a warm golden color that complemented the light of the embers. There was a slight curl at the ends that swayed back and forth along his back as he sauntered forward, up into place next to Venable, who had begun smiling at him like she was in on a little secret. He lingered for a moment beside her, his profile outlined by the flames behind him. It was some kind of stalemate playing out, his lips turned up in an expectant smile, his eyes slowly and carefully looking our administrator up and down. Slowly, Venable’s smile faded to a look of muted embarrassment and she could no longer meet his gaze. She walked slowly, regaining her poise as she stood next to Ms. Mead, allowing this mysterious gentleman to take her place. He finally oriented himself at the front of the room, allowing us all to see his face fully for the first time.

His eyes were an icy, cold blue, slightly slanted down at the corners. They framed his face just right, set just slightly above his slender nose. It was hard not to focus on his lips as he began to speak, full as they were, ever curved in that sardonic smirk that made it clear he knew he was in charge, much to Venable’s obvious chagrin.

“My name is Langdon, and I represent the Cooperative.” The words spilled from his mouth like honey, a bitter honey that coated your ears but sent another chill through your spine, much like the first time he spoke.

“I won’t sugarcoat the situation. Humanity is on the brink of failure. 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. We've had no contact from the six international outposts, but we are assuming that they, too, have been eliminated.” All eyes were glued to his visage, his undeniable air of superiority. Gallant was paying particularly close attention, and I couldn’t blame him. There was something about him that drew you in, and handsome confidence that didn’t allow you to look away.

“What happened to the people inside?” Andre broke the silence with his question, voicing what no one wanted to acknowledge in light of this new information. With a sharp turn of his head in the young man’s direction, Langdon uttered his sort reply.

“Massacred.” His voice barely above a whisper, and the slight smile never left his face. “The same fate that will befall almost all of you.” His pause before the word ‘almost’ left a space open for interpretation, one that was not lost on us. Before I even knew what I was saying, I blurted out, “Almost all?” Even from across the room, I could feel his attention shift to me immediately, drilling me with his eyes. I quickly found something interesting to examine on my shoes, hoping for nothing more than to rid myself of the heat of shame that followed that stare. He didn’t answer the question, but seamlessly flowed into the next parts of his speech. Though he was no longer looking, I could still feel the smoldering gaze that felt like it was still burning a hole in me.

“In the knowledge that this very moment might occur, we built a failsafe: The Sanctuary. The Sanctuary is unique. It has certain security measures that will prevent overrun.”

The next person to join in the discussion was Ms. Mead, who politely interjected.

“Excuse me sir, what measures? I mean, why weren’t we given them?” Still with that ceaseless smile, his attention turned to the older woman. Again, his response was curt.

“That’s classified.” With a pause to ensure no more interruptions, and a slow scan around the room, he began once more. “All that matters is that The Sanctuary will survive, so the people populating it will survive, so humanity will… survive.” His voice melted on the last word, hanging on to it like a vice grip.

“Who are the people who are populating it?” Kyle inquired from his seat next to Emily. It was clear from the way he clutched her hands that he hoped they might be the lucky pair to hop straight to repopulation. This was not lost on Langdon, though it was clear his patience was thinning.

“Also classified. However, I have been sent to determine whether any of you are worthy or fit to join us.” With this, the tension that had built throughout his monologue palpably eased. The erect postures around the room and the positions on the edges of seats eased back to recline in the realization that any one of us could possibly escape this cramped hell hole. A ripple of muted conversation passed alone each member, even among the grays.

“Do you think that includes us?” The one boy next to me asked. I couldn’t come up with an answer, just the wonder in the back of my mind: would it be possible? Were the things Langdon was looking for something that could be found in someone considered lesser than those dressed in purple?

Again, my thoughts were cut short as he began once more. His voice carried loudly enough to silence the sea of murmurs immediately.

“The Cooperative has developed a particular and rigorous questioning technique we like to call "Cooperating." I will then use the information gained to determine if you belong.” He waved his hands out to each side as though the explanation was obvious. Apparently to a certain few, it still wasn’t.

“What is this, The Hunger Games? This is bullshit. I paid my way in here, and that is the only cooperating I plan on doing.” The whining coming from Coco struck a particular nerve this time, clearly not just with me. Gallant rolled his eyes and Langdon was again caught short of patience.

“You don’t have to sit for questioning. You can instead just stay here, and die.” There was no smile this time. Not leaving her any time for embarrassment, Gallant finally spoke up for the first time since his remarks about the snakes.

“I volunteer to go first.” He looked around the room as if to challenge someone to suggest themselves first, though no one offered.

With an almost imperceptible sigh, he replied. “And so you shall.” Langdon bowed his head slightly in the bleach blonde’s direction, feigning courtesy. “The process should only take me a couple of days, so you won't be kept in suspense forever. For those of you who don't make the cut, all is not lost. If the worst should happen and feral cannibals come knocking, down one of these.” He extracted a small vial of white pills from the folds of his draped jacket and held them high enough for all to see.

“One minute later, you fall asleep and never wake up.” Silence fell again, and he let us soak in all the options that had just been set before us.

“I look forward to meeting each and every one of you.” With a slight rattle, he thrust the bottle of pills back into his pocket and gave another quick glance around the room. Though it was clear no more protestations would be accepted, he left no time for further discussion anyhow, briskly striding around the opposite side of the room from which he came in towards the exiting corridor. As he passed, I caught his eyes once more. It was reminiscent of the sensation one gets when they find themselves atop a mountain in a lightning storm: the hair on the back of your neck and arms begin to prickle with a life of their own, and it’s as though you can feel the current of the electricity replace some of the blood in your veins. Those cold baby blues sent the shock down my body from head to toe, even in just the space of an instant. The air that rushed past me as he made his way out the door smelled sweet at first, yet quickly left a sour taste in my mouth, much like the aroma of a wilting flower. Such strange sensations to follow an equally strange man, but the combination of them all made my toes curl. Who, or what, was he?

#michael langdon x reader #fanfiction #american horror story #ahs apocalypse #writing #coco st. pierre vanderbilt #miriam mead #i'm so scared to post this #shit #fuck #yikes #pls read!!!!!#michael langdon

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