#cordelia rainwater

[supremeinlilac]

Don't look back (4)

AU Oceans 8 x AHS Coven crossover

Pairing: Cordelia Goode x Lou Miller, Lou Miller x Tammy

WC: 3.9k

Warnings: nsfw, 18 +

Part: 1 | 2 | 3

“What’s that?” Cordelia asked curiously, pointing to where Lou’s suit jacket flapped open to reveal the papers stuffed there.

Lou pauses before telling her that the guy was running a drug ring under the bar, fiddling with the underbelly of her bike as she spoke. Standing back up, she turned to the younger woman, “it’s bad for business.”

“Who’s business?” Delia persisted, swinging her leg over to perch on the back of the bike. She watched Lou unclip the helmets from the handles.

“Mine.” She stated with finality, pressing a bike helmet into Cordelia’s hands, before swinging her own over her head and securing it. Helping Delia with hers, she climbed onto the bike herself, and reached behind her to pull Delia’s arms around her waist.

Lou took them to a little phone booth that she often used when she didn’t want to be traced back. She would have wanted to leave Cordelia on the bike while she made the call, but the rain had heightened so she pulled them both in together, closing the door behind them. It was a squeeze in the booth, not made for two adults to fit, but Lou pulled Delia into her shoulder after taking their helmets off.

She used the knuckle of her index finger to punch in the numbers on the box, before picking the phone up to ear, on the side where Cordelia stood so she could listen in and see how it was done. The cop picked up on the fourth ring, and Lou rolled her eyes at his tardiness.

"I've got evidence of shady business practices at The Echo that you might want to check out.” She spoke, voice low and not sounding much like Lou at all, it made Cordelia want to look out of the foggy glass window instead.

"What kind of shady business practices?" the operator asked, and Cordelia could hear his impatience bleeding through the receiver, the faint tapping a pen signalling that he was only half listening, spitting out lines by the book. She pulled on Lou’s arm.

"The drug ring in their basement kind." She stated shortly, scoffing at the man’s indifference. She hung up, letting the drop and dangle with a clatter by the wire.

“Do yousell drugs?” Cordelia asked innocently once the phone stilled, no longer clacking against the side of the booth. She stared up at Lou, her helmet still pressed into her stomach where she was cradling it.

“No,” Lou said firmly, before stopping to press a kiss to Cordelia’s forehead, wet from the rain, “but I don’t want the cops sniffing round my business or my home.” She refastened her helmet again before speaking, voice distorted slightly because she didn’t bother to turn up the visor to talk. “It’s better for us to know when they’ll come, and this way we can. Okay?”

“Okay.”

They stepped out of the booth, Cordelia pausing a moment to turn and slot the hanging phone back in its holder before joining Lou back out in the rain. She was pulling her suit jacket tighter around herself so the rain couldn’t seep and spoil the papers.

At the police station, Lou told Delia to stay on the bike, despite her protests, insisting that she wouldn’t be long, and that one person will always be better than two when it came to these things, before swinging her leg off and strutting purposefully through the doors. Cordelia watched her go, the cold rainwater running in rivets down her back, her knees white from where she’d pressed them cold into Lou’s legs. She wished she’d asked for some tights.

Lou didn’t remove her helmet, strolling in and fishing the papers from her pocket once she was inside. Not bothering to smooth them out, she reached through the space below the glass partition to the empty booth beyond and pulled a sticky note from the top of the pile, and a pen atop some paperwork. Scribbling onto the note, she slammed it to the papers, and pushed it through the gap again.

Shady business practises. x

Turning, she twisted her heel into the floor, so a mark of mud was ground into the carpet, before marching back outside with a smirk etched firmly onto her face.

“Hold on,” she shouted to Cordelia, who yelped with the sudden speed at which she started the bike at. She’d promised not to go fast, but she was Lou Miller, you live life at her pace.

The rain had soaked their clothes, but still they both shivered from the adrenaline over the cold. Cordelia had held around Lou’s waist even tighter on the ride from the police station, and Lou had felt like taking off her helmet so the wind could catch her hair and make it billow like a golden halo around her head.

Inside the loft, Lou was quick to pull Cordelia up the stairs and into her room, where it would be warmer. They were still breathing heavily, chests heaving with excitement when Lou shut the door closed behind them.

She fumbled with the leather jacket, peeling it from the damp dress beneath, and over Delia’s arms, which didn’t make it easy, because she didn’t seem to be able to keep them still. Too much to touch, too much to feel. She couldn’t blame her. Still, finally she was able to free her from the jacket and throw it unceremoniously to the corner. Just for a second Cordelia thought she was losing the smell of her, before it was back, slowly, slowly, then all at once. In front of her and behind her and under her skin, she could smell her. It was addicting, and she wondered whether it was adding to the haze in her brain, whether the fog was just Lou.

The fog cleared when Lou kissed her again, as if the spark caught on the incendiary mist and set its haze alight, burning so brightly until there was none left to cloud her thoughts.

She gripped onto Lou’s shirt, and felt how the rain had dampened it so she could see the pink of flesh through the material. She could feel the muscles of Lou’s stomach ripple under her touch when she pulled and pushed enough to free the shirt from her pants, enough so she could tentatively sneak fingers to graze across skin. She could definitely feel when Lou decided to dip her hands down to the curve of her ass, slipping a thigh between her legs and pressing up.

It wasn’t as if she’d never felt these things before, she had. But she’d never felt them like this, and Lou’s touch managed to burn her skin anew. She’d gladly burn though, if she burnt like this.

Lou’s fingers found Cordelia again, just like they had outside the club, just like she felt they always might. Touch magnetised. Slowly, slowly, then all at once, until she couldn’t tell where her fingertips ended and where Delia began. Cupping the small of her back with one hand, the other on the back of her head, she walked her back, so lost in the kiss that she had to reach out one of the hands to feel for the door. Pressing slowly, slowly, then all at once, her body against it.

“I- I’ve never really-” Cordelia stuttered, fingers fumbling with the buttons on Lou’s shirt, “been with a woman.” Lou’s mouth pressed against her throat, warm and insistent and she couldn’t help but gasp at the feeling, despite her nerves. She wanted to freeze, to swallow that gasp back and hide it like it never happened. But Lou didn’t seem to mind, it seemed to only spur her further. Licking over to soothe at the skin she’d marked, Delia found herself bucking into her. She was sure she could lose herself in the feeling.

“I don’t know what to do.” She confessed, hands stopping when she’d managed to remove Lou’s shirt, bunching it in her hands instead of discarding it at their feet like Lou had done with the leather jacket.

“I’ll teach you.” Lou murmured softly, eyes sincere as they met Cordelia’s, nose to nose, slowly coaxing the shirt out of shaking hands and throwing it blindly behind her. She then brought her hands back towards Delia’s, knitting their fingers together so she could guide hers to rest on the dip in her own waist, so the younger woman could holdher, whilst still being led.

“Let me take care of you.” Lou breathed into the skin of her jaw, peppering kisses along it in between words like seeds scattered by a loose wrist. She cupped her face with gentle hands to draw her into another kiss, slower, more deliberate strokes of her tongue along the line of Delia’s teeth before she too relaxed into it.

With a squeak from Cordelia, Lou hoisted her up, legs instinctively wrapping around her hips and arms falling around her neck, until she was comfortably pressed against the door again. Delia moved the tips of her fingers gently to brush at Lou’s hair, still damp from the rain, and move it out of her face. Lou shook her head aggressively, which did the job, but the younger woman insisted on combing nimble fingers through its length, hands resting on the back of her neck so she could lean in again softly.

Sliding hands under thighs, Lou carried Cordelia over to the bed, eyes soft as Delia continued to stroke at her hair. She set her down sitting, reaching for a second pillow for her to rest against before she fumbled with fingers too impatient on the dress zip.

“You can tell me to stop if you need, okay?” She told her, peeling the damp material away and exposing the pale skin beneath to her touch. She positioned herself kneeling beside her, so that as freckled shoulders were exposed, she could press kisses along the back of her shoulders, trailing and following the curve of her body as it was revealed to her.

“Cordelia,” she pressed when the younger woman only stilled beneath her, offering no response to her request. She moved away from her, sitting up so she could use fingertips to nudge her face to look at her. She did, with understanding eyes that flitted about Lou’s face searching for signs of untruth.

“Okay.”

With the dress now gone, Lou allowed herself to scan her eyes over Cordelia’s body without worry of being caught. Her hands followed the line of her sides, dipping at the waist and again over her hip as the younger woman squirmed under her teasing touch. She worked her underwear off while kissing her, to distract her from the big step, but going slow enough so she could stop.

She didn’t ask her to stop, not when she started, or when she kicked them off her toes, or when Lou ran cool hands down her legs and between her thighs. She was lost in the feeling, and she wasn’t sure if she ever really wanted to be found again.

When Lou’s fingers finally dipped into her, Cordelia sighed, letting her head rest back against the pillows as she felt. She didn’t take her eyes off Lou’s face though, how she looked at her so lovingly, how her fingers were soft and deliberately stroking at her, taking her time to build her to release. It was so different to anything she’d experienced before, and yet her body welcomed it, arching her back delicately off the bed and into the touch. Slower, deeper, higher, until she felt as if she was balanced on a cloud.

Lou liked to talk, and it was no different in the bedroom. She didn’t go a minute without a cooing remark to Cordelia’s bodies reactions, or a husking growl when she’d whine for more of her touch. Delia felt dizzy with her words, but she felt high on them too. She closed her eyes tightly as Lou’s thumb found her clit.

When she fell over the edge, it didn’t feel like she was falling, not really. More like being caught, floating down softly to the ground like a feather that would flit to the ground with every jerk of the wind. It was falling, but not without direction, being guided through it with purposeful curls of a finger to prompt a spark or a gasp. She twitched too, but it was into Lou’s body that she did, and she could grasp onto an arm and ride out her high for as long as Lou would just keep moving her fingers.

Slumped against the pillow, she felt Lou slide her fingers from within her, and she might’ve whined about losing that feeling, if she didn’t choke on the sound at the sight of Lou cleaning them off again. She felt her stomach jump again, and Delia pushed herself up with her elbows. Leaning in for another kiss, Lou felt the younger woman hum into her mouth at the taste of herself.

“Wait, what about you?” Cordelia asked when Lou withdrew, sitting back up and reaching for her arm to stop her from getting up, “don’t you want me to-?” She was sure that this was how it went, at least, this was always how it had gone in the past. The boys always wanted her to.

“Next time, kitten.” Lou purred, turning to peck at Delia’s surprised lips before standing to walk to the bathroom, remerging with a damp cloth.

“Next time?” She couldn’t help but repeat, the words forming on her lips as a question.

Lou hummed as she gently pulled the cloth across Cordelia’s forehead, before moving it slowly down to pat at her body, run it over the inside of her thighs. She cooed when she pressed it higher, and Delia jerked and gasped with the overstimulation into her chest.

On her second return from the bathroom, she found Cordelia settling down against the pillows, peeking up at her over the duvet and watching her track across the room. She couldn’t help but return the smile, nose crinkling as she pressed another kiss against her forehead and pulled her close, fingers wrapped into her hair softly.

Climbing into bed next to Cordelia, Lou pulled at her waist until she was flush against her front, and she could reach around and dance her fingertips over her ribs idly. Delia would always hitch her breath whenever she’d skim her nails too close under her breast, which would only make her do it again. The vein in her neck would pop out just so when she did, and Lou had to hold herself back from leaning over and sucking a mark into the delicate skin.

The curtains were cracked slightly, and the moon shone a single beam of liquid silver that seemed to melt over the warmth of Cordelia’s back under Lou’s eyes, and it only seemed to make the woman softer, as if her fingers would simply melt into her skin if she were to touch her. She touched her again, just to check, and the moon blinked her eyes over the interaction.

Cordelia waited for Lou to finish tracing slow patterns on her skin, to pull her arm back from around her and take it away. She never did, instead tucking her palm into the dip of her stomach and moving her neck closer so her nose nuzzled into her hair. She expected her to roll away, stealing the warmth and shifting to the other side of the bed. When she didn’t, Delia let herself fully sink into her arms, pressing back against the feeling of her skin at her back.

She listened to Lou’s breathing level out behind her, breath warm and even on the back of her neck, until she was sure the older woman was asleep. She wasn’t sure why she couldn’t seem to drop off after sex like everyone could, but her mind wandered from time to time, and she couldn’t switch off the part of her brain that registered sounds. The tick of the clock on the wall that seemed to always be advancing, closing in until it suffocated her with every breath, the whirring of the heater below, and the breath of a lover. Sometimes it would morph into the snarl of a wolf behind her, and she’d be pulled from the bed into terrible nightmares.

Adjusting slowly, she worked her way away from the warmth of Lou’s body. For a moment, she wanted nothing more than to twist around and curl into her again, drown herself in that warmth until it seeped into her veins, and she learned to swim in it. She thought that maybe she could be safe in that warmth, that maybe she could chase the cold away.

Bare feet against the wood, she felt the cold again, retreating across the room over the rug so she’d be silent. She reckoned Lou was the type to hear even a silent foot. Reaching, she unhooked Lou’s dressing gown from the peg, shrugging it on and wrapping the cord loosely around her waist.

She paused at the open door, silhouette framing a scared child in the doorway of a foreign house. She pulled the door closed, until she could only make out Lou through a crack, where she could see the curl of her lips in a smile. Did she do that? Or was she stuck in a memory in her head, smiling at what once was?

Once in the hallway, she tightened the dressing gown around her body, the draft of the big loft licking at the flap of the material. She felt goosebumps awaken along her thighs as she tiptoed down the stairs for the second time. Watching her footing, she reached the main room, and started to walk its boundary. She pressed fingertips to frames that held photos of younger Lou, secrets to who she was then that held answers to who she was now. Pictures that had collected dust and ones that were new in placement, untainted, unforgotten. She felt like she was prying into something not given.

Moving along, she found herself in the kitchen, with fingers on the fridge door until she crouched to open it and peer inside. There wasn’t much in, but she wasn’t sure she expected it of Lou. She pulled the bottles out of the door by their necks, tilted them so she could read their labels by fridge light. Mostly alcohol, but they were interesting enough to Cordelia.

Straightening up, Cordelia turned to face the large room. She didn’t notice that day, but under the shadow of night, she could see the skeleton of a theatre, the stage and the rooms shape, how had she missed it? Lights that followed the curve of the room, meant to plunge the room into darkness, into suspense with a single switch. Beams that led to the ceiling like the spindly bones of a corpse, and the upper rooms that opened out to view onto the floor below. She imagined the chilling eyes of the dead peering over the edge, watching a show long over, waiting for a revival that they might remember. A shiver broke from within her chest, and travelled through her body at the image, she felt like she was being watched. Tightening the band of the dressing gown, Cordelia picked her way across the room towards the stage, with its floor length curtains. They were closed, and that would only serve to call out to her like ghouls, mocking and inviting with their shrill voices like knives dragged across glass. You know you want to know, they taunted, what it is they’re hiding.

She did want to know, so, clambering onto the stage with fingers pulling down at the robe even in solitude, she reached for the chord that would open the drapes. Pausing only slightly before inquisitee got the better of her, she tugged on the rope, parting the curtains. It revealed a scale model of some sort, a large building maybe. Delia’s first thought was that it was the planning of a house, although she’d never seen anything like this-

“You’re a curious little thing, aren’t you?”

Cordelia whelped, whipped around and searching for the voice that wasn’t Lou in the dark of the room, but the only light left on was pointed at the stage and trying to see past it was pointless. She felt like a deer, startled in the headlights.

The stranger flicked on the main lights, flooding the room brightly so Delia had to squeeze her eyes shut against its brilliance. Adjusting, she squinted at a figure who stood with her arms crossed and watched her as if she’d caught her doing something dodgy. Which, in all fairness, she actually had done. Her stance was enough to remind Cordelia about her current state of undress, and she was quick to fold her arms around herself protectively again.

“Who- what are you doing-” She fumbled, pulling the chord to close back up the curtains, to wipe the evidence of her snooping, but being careful to not turn her back too long on the woman in the middle of the room.

“Oh, I’m meantto be here, darling. Are you meant to be sneaking around in the dark?” The woman mocked, walking slowly towards the stage. Delia scrambled to get down before she reached her, standing as tall as she could make herself without cowering in front of the stranger. Her face gave her away, however, wide eyes that barely blinked and flushed cheeks with the pink hue of embarrassment.

“I’m only teasing, don’t look so worried. You’re not going to get an earful from meabout doing things you shouldn’t.” She laughed, lighting her face up happily, and for the first time since the woman scared her, she relaxed. “We’re alltrouble here, trust me.” The brunette straightened up, before stuffing her hands back into her pockets. “I’m Debbie.”

“Cordelia.” She replied, faint smile on her face at the idea of meeting one of Lou’s friends. Close friends, if she was allowed to just show up under the guise of night, no questions asked. She seemed friendly, and so much like Lou, that it was difficult not to be drawn to her. A pull like gravity.

“Well, you should probably head back up, Lou’ll wonder where you are if she wakes up,” Debbie suggested, and Cordelia hummed, rocking on her heels, “she’s a pretty light sleeper.”

They said their goodnights, and Delia flitted back upstairs to Lou, pressing the dressing gown over the hook again after pausing to bring it to her nose. She slipped back into the bed, curling up against Lou again, her warmth bleeding back in across the bed as if she’d never left it cold. The smell of Lou was already so familiar, she could feel herself getting lost in it. Did Lou already know her smell?

Cordelia couldn’t help her mind but wander back to what Debbie had said. We’re all trouble around here. All her life she’d been taught that trouble was bad, something to look down upon and avoid, and she’d wince whenever an adult would use the name. But maybe, if Lou was trouble too, then maybe trouble wasn’t so bad.

Part 5

#sarah paulson #sarah paulson x reader #cordelia goode #oceans 8 #american horror story #tammy x lou

[angelicmichael]

Imminient Annihilation sounds so dope - Chapter Ten

Michael Langdon X Reader

Summary: Reader and Michael continue to work through their issues and finally start to warm up to each other even further. 

Words: 5.9k+ …oops

Warnings: just normal IA warnings (swear words, manipulation, unhealthy relationships, enemies to lovers, slowburn, etc) anddd maybeee a bit of fluff 👁

A/N: hey guys! Sorry I haven’t updated this in a few months but hopefully this is satisfactory hehe. This chapter is kinda a turning point in the fic so I hope u guys like it!! Also I watched Jennifer’s Body as I finished this so.. do what u must w that information 😌 djdjd

Previous Chapter

Rain was never something you were accustomed too. Spending so much time in Los Angeles had made you partially spoiled when it came to the weather - which is why you knew immediately your day was going to be shit when you woke up to rain.

You tried to convince yourself that the emotions you were feeling weren’t complete disdain but rather just a pessimistic version of indifference.. or that’s what you hoped anyway.

You knew realistically that your day wasn’t already doomed before it even started; and that the rain was nothing more than a mere inconvenience.. However; you still felt justified in complaining, considering today was the day you were ripping the band-aide off and moving in to the apartment Michael had oh so graciously chosen to give you.

Your pessimistic mood surrounding the entire situation was inevitable, and that was something you didn’t even bother to resist or fight. It didn’t take long for your thoughts to quickly go south as you quickly packed. Hatred that seemingly came out of nowhere (but that you realistically knew was only temporarily dormant) wasted no time in blinding your judgement - making you feel a nearly nauseating amount of jealousy and anger for people who actually seemed to be fucking happy in their relationships and werent forced into.. whatever shitty living situation you knew you were bound to find yourself in.

An apartment with no strings attached was way too fucking simple, and you knew it was too good to be true. You knew you were basically walking into a trap, and for what reason were you doing that so willingly? Just so that maybe Michael could start to tolerate you? You resented yourself for even agreeing to this but you also understood you really had no other option.

However; personal feelings aside.. you still had a mission to accomplish. You still had to attempt to seduce Michael, and even though you were doing a shit job at that so far - you still had to try. You knew realistically it was only a matter of time before Cordelia would ask about the progress you've made, and you would have to tell her something.

You had to do this.

That's why you were (semi) blindly choosing to move in to a building you knew you absoluetly couldnt afford; and why you were sucking up your pride and choosing to become semi reliant on Michael.

No one from the coven knew, and for the time being you intended to keep it that way. After all, even though Mallory didnt exactly know that Michael gave you a whole ass fucking apartment - your sure she probably suspected that something important happened between you and Michael just from the short conversation you three harbored together. But for the time being, you didnt have to worry about that. You had bigger things that were on your mind.. like the actual apartment door itself that you currently stood in front of.

You held the keys limply in your hand, your bag slumped next to you as you procrastinated something as fucking simple as opening a door. How pathetic.

You continued to stall in the hallway regardless - thankful there was no one passing through to witness how ridiculous you looked. Your gaze fell south down to your keys which were cold in your hand. Dripping slowly with the subtle rainwater that managed to linger on them, along with the rest of your clothes.

Your skin stung from the cold that seemed stubborn to leave, and a nice change of clothes and a hot shower wouldnt be the absolute worst thing in the world..

Fuck.

You bit your lip in order to prevent letting the profanity from rolling off your tongue. Quickly getting a better grip on the keys (which only made you somehow colder) and numbly, hastily unlocking the door.

You pushed it open, letting the door hit the wall and taking a few steps inside before dropping your bag to the floor.. as well as your jaw.

No words could possibly convey how you felt as you noticed how the room was already illuminated with not only natural light from the already huge windows you could see.. but also with a warm, yellow artificial glow.

Was someone already here?

What the fuck?

The hatred and resentment you previously felt toward others earlier rapidly started to return - except this time it was targeted at one very specific person.

It didnt even register in your mind that the light could've been left on by accident or that people besides Michael actually existed that could be present in the room but.. you didnt care. Anger was the only emotion that was solely present in your body as you fully abandoned your bag by the door. Advancing forward; and only feeling more shock and disbelief with every step you took at the thought that he could very possibly be in (what was supposed to be) your space.

"Michael, I swear to God-"

"Y/n?” said a soft, feminine voice.

It was practically automatic how you froze. Just getting close enough to notice that it wasn’t Michael after all that was on your bed in your new studio apartment, but a woman sat on your bed instead.

For about two seconds, you were scared it was Madison but.. that was a stupid assumption within itself. The company you were with was from a far different nature than of which Madison was, even though at first glance the two woman might look or sound similar. There were so many qualities that distinguished Mallory from Madison. Brown, auburn hair.. dark eyeshadow.. and her classic black boots. It didn’t take long for your anger to fade away as you tried to not think about how logically this still didn’t make sense - walking closer to your bed anyway.

"How did you get in here? And since when did you ever break into peoples rooms?" You asked with a laugh.

Mallory echoed your laugh back, seemingly watching you and your behavior. As if she was expecting you to do something or to act a certain way.. like perhaps leave.

"I didnt break into your apartment but.. you should probably sit down." She spoke, before nodding off to her side. Nonverbally suggesting you to sit next to her.

You did as you were told. Noticing briefly before you sat down how nice the apartment actually was.. including the bed.

The walls, and most of everything in the apartment was a solid black. It looked sleek, and even though black paint made most rooms look small - the natural light helped keep things looking open which you appreciated. It was no surprise that the bed matched the dark theme too. The sheets were silky, black satin. You almost laughed at how comfortable the bed was once you sat next to Mallory, the entire situation was so ridiculous it nearly hurt for you to not laugh out loud. The two of you sat in the silence for a moment.. you were each incredibly anxious, that was more than apparent.

You looked up at Mallory, expecting her to speak first and explain herself since after all.. shes the one who broke into your apartment but she still remained quiet.. Stalling, you could only guess.

"So, why are you here? How did you even get in here? Is everything okay?" You asked, your words speedy and rushed.

Panic started to temporarily set in when you realized that something could be serisouly wrong with the coven, even though you knew how completly irrational it was to think that way with no evidence. What if witch hunters found them? What if someone preformed the seven wonders and it went wrong? What if the plan had suddenly changed with Michael?

Mallory seemed to pick on how anxious you suddenly were, putting a hand on your upper arm before making you meet her gaze. Her soft, hazel brown eyes immeadietly making your breathe slow. That was another reason you were so thankful for Mallory - the soothing, calming effect she seemed to have on everyone she met was something you never took for granted.. Espically now.

"Hey, nothing's wrong and nothing happened. I promise. I just wanted to see you and talk to you, and I figured we should catch up after Michael basically made me leave," Mallory explained.

You quickly nodded. Feeling guilt start to creep into your system once you remembered how Michael previously treated her.

"Yeah, youre right. I've been wanting to see you anyway and I'm sorry I didnt just call you last night or something.. and I know I cant control him but I'm still sorry for how Michael treated you. I shouldn't have brought you into that-"

"(Y/n), stop," Mallory said urgently. Shaking her head slightly in disagreement with your words. "Sure, Michael was acting like a dick but.. it's nothing I'm not exactly accustomed too. It was harmless," she ended her words with a smile. One that was meant to comfort you both at the epiphany her words brought.

You sat with her words for a moment. The realization suddenly hitting you like a truck-

"Wait.. what? Do you know Michael?"

Mallory fell completely silent. Looking at you almost in a.. guilty manner. Her gaze fell downwards before she looked up to meet yours once more, licking her lips anxiously before she uttered out a quiet reply.

"I wasnt going to tell you because I knew it would make you upset but.. Michael called me last night-"

"And you answered?" Your voice raised up a few octaves unwillingly. Threatening to break as you tried to process what you were hearing.

As much as you wanted to immeadietly jump to conclusions, you had to remind yourself that this was Mallory you were talking too. Your best friend, Mallory. You knew she would never do anything to intentionally hurt you.

You noticed Mallory was also starting to get tense. Her spine suddenly a bit too straight and her shoulders were rigid. It was nice to know you werent the only person in this situation who was feeling this way, although you would be lying if you were to say that you werent curious for why Mallory felt tense.

"At first, no but he kept calling so I figured it would cause no harm to see what he wanted so, I answered," Mallory said cautiously.

It was obvious she had more to say and as much as you wanted her to keep talking and fully explain herself - you were more than happy that you didnt have to cut her off again. It was too much. This was too much.

You pinched the bridge of your nose before loudly exhaling with a shallow growl. Not really caring that it probably was coming off like you were mad at Mallory when in reality, that wasn’t the case. Mallory wasn’t the problem; you were really just beyond fucking pissed at Michael.

But at this point.. that wasnt new news.

"I told him that we shouldnt be talking, but he insisted," Mallory continued with a shrug.

You tried to sit up straight again; trying to exhale some of the pure fucking anger that was currently coursing through your system. Your vision was spotted black when you opened your eyes - your gaze pointed upwards at the smooth, blank ceiling. Quickly wishing that you were anywhere else, or really anyone else at the moment.

What you wouldnt kill to swap bodies again.. but then again, who knows what the hell Michael was currently doing at the moment.. He couldnt be trusted.

That was more than obvious now.

You should've known that he would contact Mallory, but how he even got her number was beyond you.. Unless-

"How did he even get your number?" You asked. Your tone strikingly calm.

Mallory looked incredibly spooked when your head suddenly snapped over to look at her. As if she was worried you were angry at her still, and as much as you wanted to reassure her otherwise, you really didnt have the energy to do so anymore. Not at the moment anyway.

"You can't be mad when I tell you the answer, okay?" She said softly.

Your features immeadietly softened at her words. The rest of your body relaxed as well; your shoulders dropping and your jaw unclenching.

"Mallory, I could never be mad at you. You could never piss me off, i'm just.. frustrated at Michael. It's not at you, I swear," you said. Trying your best to make your words sound reassuring and genuine.

Mallorys reaction wasnt one that was verbal but immeadite nonetheless. Her arms suddenly shot out and wrapped themselves around you. Her body temporarily pressing into yours as your hands went to her back, before she quickly broke the hug.

"Promise?" Mallory prompted. Brown eyes looking diligently into yours.

"Yeah.. I promise. Just tell me what that idiot did,” you said halfheartedly.

"So.. I've had his number for a while. Not for too long but just since you two switched. But, we never really talked," Her voice stalled as she watched your reaction. Your mouth grew dry as you really tried to let it sink in that they've known eachother since- well for atleast a week. "But I knew immeadietly that it wasnt you.. that day. I'm sorry I lied, but Michael made me promise."

"Why didnt you just tell me?"

Mallory looked at you in a guilty manner. Her lips pursing shut as she looked solemnly at her shoes, avoiding eye contact. You knew exactly why she was being quiet - she didnt want to admit why she had lied but.. the answer was pretty obvious.

Even though Mallory was one of the strongest witches - almost stronger than Cordelia on some days, she still was scared of Michael and that was nothing worth holding a grudge over. After all he was still the antichrist, no matter how (mostly) harmless and idiotic he seemed to you now.

"Okay.. I guess that doesnt really matter," you admitted with a laugh. Figeting with your hands as you heard a shallow laugh omit also from Mallory, which made you smile. The shallow pit that resided in your stomach finally starting to let up. "But.. What did he call you about last night?"

Mallory hesitated again before giving you another subtle smile.

"It was mostly about you.. I know how you feel about him y/n, but its working. I promise you. Hes finally warming up to you. I just wish you could hear how he talks about you,” she spoke. Taking your hands into her soft, warm ones.

"I wish I believed that," You admitted.

"I wouldnt lie to you. Hes finally starting to warm up to you, plus it was obvious yesterday-"

"Yeah; It was obvious how strong he was coming onto you."

Mallory laughed again at your words. Shaking her head slightly in protest.

“Y/n you know that’s not true. The only reason why he was flirting with me was just to get to you.. I thought that was obvious.”

“It was obvious I just.. didn’t know that you knew that. I mean, Michael has Madison.. or he did so you think that would at least satisfy his flirting needs for a bit but.. Michael faking to be interested in you, that would mean he wanted a reaction out of me on purpose? Why would he-“

“You know why. You need to start cutting yourself slack and realize that maybee this rivalry is starting to be one sided.”

You pouted at her words at the realization that they actually held more truth in them than you were willing to admit. If Michael didn’t hate you anymore, if he was truly actually willing to be civil.. then why were you still so upset? Were you the one who was unintentionally causing problems now? Was it now you instead of Michael that was holding the relationship back?

How fucking stupid.

“I can’t trust him, Mallory. How can I when he and Madison literally tried to kill me. I can never forget that they did that to me.”

“I’m not asking you to forget what he did, y/n. I’m just saying that maybe it wouldn’t hurt to start having an open mind around him, and see where it gets you.”

You were struck silent, knowing that Mallory was completely right. If you wanted to have any hope at all of making things right with Michael (even though you really didn’t do anything wrong..) you would have to try a different approach because obviously; what you were doing now wasn’t working. Being snarky, and vaguely threatening him every chance you got was fun of course but- it wasn’t working. Even though Mallory was probably the sweetest person you knew, the fact your own best friend had to (very politely) make a intervention was.. not a good sign. Although, you knew Mallory was doing this for your best interest because if she didn’t say anything, then Cordelia certainly would.

And sadly, Mallory was actually right.

If you wanted things with Michael to advance any further; or to advance at all you needed to step things up but, you could always worry about that after Mallory left.

“So what, are you guys besties now or something?” You sneered.

“Shut up!” Mallory said with a laugh, playfully pushing you over a bit. “He’s barely even my acquaintance. The only reason he’s being nice to me is just to get to you, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing. I mean that’s the goal-“

“Do you think that’s the only reason?” You interrupted.

Your throat automatically tightened after you spoke, the threat of your words potentially being true coaxing you to silence. Your not sure why the thought of Michael using you made you upset.. it’s not as if you didn’t think he was doing it before but this time it was different. Perhaps it was because you finally thought Michael actually had some type of interest in you.. and to have that suddenly ripped away?

That would leave you beyond broken.. you knew that for certain.

Mallory looked at you solemnly, as if she was already resenting her words before she had to say them outloud.

“Look, I don’t exactly know Michaels intentions and I’m not going to pretend too.. I don’t really think anyone does at this point but I do know that regardless of your feelings, or even his feelings that.. you have to try.”

You let out a loud exhale.

“I mean you said it yourself.. Michaels so unpredictable, there’s no point in guessing how he feels so.. maybe I should just.. ask him?”

Realistically you didn’t know how good of a idea that was- but.. trying to remain realistic was something you gave up on days ago. Pretty much the same day you switched and that definitely wasn’t a coincidence by any means.

As soon as Mallorys mouth opened, you heard three loud knocks. Quick and rapid with no hesitation between them. The apartment nearly shook with the force of whoever happened to be at your door, and you certainly didn’t doubt that your neighbors heard the knocking as well.

Mallory looked at you in utter confusion, but stayed on the bed nonetheless with no sign of getting up. Naturally, you found yourself scooting closer to the end of the bed, knowing it was you who was going to have to get the door.. and that made you scared shitless. Not because you were necessarily scared to open the door but because you had a horribly bad feeling on who was on the other side.. There was only one person that you knew of that was aware of where you lived, and you knew it wasn’t matience or staff.

You knew standing up was the logical thing to do but you still stalled. Hands starting to painfully dig into the soft, expensive sheets that lie underneath you. You mouthed a silent, ‘what the fuck?’ to Mallory but your head snapped back at the door..

Three more knocks which were only louder and more persistent than the last.

“Coming!” You quickly called out.

It was pure anxiety that fueled your next actions. You quickly stood up from the bed, trying to walk hurriedly to the door as fast as you could and trying your damn best not to think.. Hoping Mallory also had a idea of who was at the door and also happened to get the fuck out of view.

You didn’t want a repeat of yesterday happening again today, and you knew you wouldn’t hesitate to slap Michael if he tried to flirt with her again. Even though, you knew you weren’t supposed to act like that anymore.. but why should you have manners if Michael refused them as well?

Opening the door swiftly and without a second thought; you stood breathless as you saw a familiar blonde standing in front of you.

You both stared at each other at first - each not daring to have the balls to say ‘hello’ or anything else for that matter.. You noticed how Michael first eyed you up, fully looking up and down your body (as well as peering behind you, hopefully not making eye contact with Mallory). You made a point to just look into Michaels eyes, refusing to do what he was doing.. whatever the fuck that truly was.

“How did you know I would be here?” You breathed.

“I knew it was just a matter of time before you’d come, but it also never hurt to charm the hotel staff a bit,” Michael responded swiftly without a second beat, almost as if he anticipated your words. His lips upturned slightly at the edges, in a way that nearly made your stomach sick.

“The hotel staff-?!”

“I have connections everywhere y/n, I thought you knew that,” he sneered.

He brushed past you as you continued to stand in shock. Your mouth slightly falling open as Michael took a few steps into your apartment - looking curiously around, almost as if he knew Mallory was here..

“I did.. I think that’s obvious,” you shot back hurriedly. “But thank you for the apartment again, Michael. I still feel weird taking it but it is nice I’ll admit,” you continued. Hoping to make him turn around to look back at you and hopefully not find Mallory.. Which worked. At least for a few seconds at least.

Michael made direct eye contact with you for a moment, almost as if he wanted to speak but was deliberately choosing not too. Instead he turned around, walking in deeper in the apartment.

Your mouth immediately dropped open - your feet carried yourself forward as you started to feel a bit numb with shock- not knowing even in the slightest how you were going to handle the situation if Mallory didn’t fucking move.

Sure enough..

“You always manage to linger.. don’t you?” Michael spoke.

It took only a couple steps for you to fully realize he wasn’t speaking to you. You only saw his backside as you approached them. Quickly meeting Mallorys gaze as you came into view.. Her brown eyes darker than ever as she peered up at you.

This time it is nearly impossible to distinguish whether she looked in agony from Michaels appearance or yours; since you apparently interrupted them. Her gaze quickly returned back to meet Michaels before you could think anything of it.

“I’m not here to see you, Michael.” Mallory announced. Her tone harsher than what you were expecting what apparent friends would use.. Were they even really friends?

Mallory suddenly stood up while Michael was still standing a few feet in front of her. Making eye contact with Michael for a split second before almost ducking around him before she stood in front of you.. leaving Michael speechless behind her. She quickly hugged you, her arms only embracing you for a split second before leaving. It was obvious she was in a hurry to leave now but.. you weren’t sure exactly why.

“I should get going, you and Michael have a lot to talk about,” she subtly smiled before turning to leave.. not letting you reply or have any sort of reaction to her words.

You stood solemnly as you heard Mallory’s footsteps gradually go farther away, before hearing the door open and close. You watched Michaels back as he refused to turn around.

“How was your nice chat with Mallory?”

“Why are you asking? Am I not allowed to see her or something?” You bit back. Your words possibly twice as venomous as his were.

Michael hastily turned around, looking at you with utter disbelief. His blue eyes looking into yours, as if he was suddenly surprised by your tone and how you were acting - as if his behavior didn’t proceeded yours.

“You need to relax,” he snapped. He approached you until he was right in front of you. “I wasn’t asking because I’m trying to control you, I know that’s what your thinking,” His words fell soft until they were nearly inaudible. “I just wanted to ask what she talked to you about.”

“About us?” You prompted.

“Well what else would she be talking to you about,” he snickered. His words spoken as more of a statement than a question. His laughter quickly dwindled off after he saw how rigid your frame suddenly looked. “Kidding. For the most part.. she said she was going to talk to you, and I figured I should actually speak to you this time rather than her.”

“Are you.. actually trying to trust me, Michael Langdon?” You teased. A smile, as well as laughter escaped from your lips at the mere thought.

Even though the thought was amusing on its own, you still didn’t completely trust him. Even now when he had Mallorys trust (for the most part), you still didn’t doubt that he had a ulterior motive.

Michael finally stepped back, hesitantly breaking eye contact before inaudibly beckoning you to follow him.

“I’m trying, just like how I told you I would,” He hauntingly reminded you.

You followed him silently to the long leather couch that sat by the overly expansive windows. Sitting down next to him in a way that felt almost too casual.. but being casual around Michael and not borderline fearing for your life was something you would have to adjust too.

You noticed how he instantly slipped his shoes off; drawing up his feet on the couch.. his arms and as well the rest of him contained. Away from you.

“So if your trying.. now,” you suggested uncertainly. “Then.. tell me why you came here to talk suddenly again? I mean why not just go through Mallory again like you’ve doing previously?”

“(Y/n), please. Take me seriously and just trust me for once,” His words came out quick and stern as he spoke them. “I was being serious yesterday, as well as all the other times when I told you I wanted to start.. putting effort in and trying.”

You stared at Michael utterly dumbfounded.. Feeling a bit hopeless that you actually felt almost.. touched by his words. That’s if he was actually being serious, anyway.

“What does trying mean to you?” You asked carefully. Your mind naturally went back to Madison.. were they even broken up yet? Was that even something that Michael was willing to do for you, and how was that something you could just ask? “What about-“

“Madison’s fine. She’s fine.. with everything,” he replied hesitantly.

You simply ignored the fact that he seemed to pick up what you were talking about almost immeadietly.. focusing on rather the latter part of the sentence.. that she was okay with everything?

“So she knows? That you’re here?”

“Yeah. She knows but that’s besides the point. Madison isn’t a part of the equation anymore, I don’t want to talk about her,” He spoke as if his words were final and not to be argued with, but his tone wasn’t angry. He was just done.. and you were too.

You wish that wasn’t the case though. Cutting Madison off didn’t sit right with you in the slightest, and it would definitely have to be something that would have to be mended later. That was a given.

Madison and Michaels relationship was far too close for them to suddenly split and remain like that forever - it was temporary, but so is everything really. That shouldn’t phase you but - it still managed too.

“Okay. I’m sorry, I didn’t-“ you started.

“It’s fine. I knew you would ask.. She’s the reason why I’m here actually,” His eyes broke contact and averted down to his hands. “I don’t mean that as in I’m not here to see you but, it was something she said that brought me here.” He continued, his voice almost growing soft now at just the mention of his ex girlfriend.. and now, you felt like you actually were starting to understand his point of view. Not fully but, it was clear that Michael was trying to be more open with you, and this time he wasn’t ‘fake’ drunk.

It took nearly everything in you to not immeadietly retort but just like the night where you were at the party; you tried to fully hear him out since this was apparently one of the few times he was being civil.

“So Madison gave you advice and you actually took it?” You said while laughing softly. Trying to lighten the mood since Michael seemed to be brooding.

Michael didn’t laugh back but instead his gaze flickered up to meet yours for a moment. The corners of his mouth upturning in a shallow smile that only lasted for a few seconds.

“I did because it made sense.” He said, his tone still remaining serious. You noticed how careful he was being with his words.. something that was typical for Michael to do but this time it seemed a bit too deliberate. You wanted to ask what exactly Madison even told him to do but.. that felt wrong. “It was also the right thing to do.. Being close to you is something I should’ve done a while ago, probably immeadietly-“

“But what’s in the past; stays in the past. And since your so adamant about being close to me.. we can always try now,” you cut in.

Michael continued to sit a good distance away from you; you thought it was ironic how he could talk about wanting to get close with you but wouldn’t dare to move any closer. That thought made your pride a little bit too happy.

Right before he could open his mouth to say something; his phone rang. The sound suddenly earsplitting and blaring but Michael didn’t bother to flinch. Instead he stood up and answered his phone.. making sure to nearly trek across the apartment before he said anything into the phone.

You stretched and casually examined him as he talked, you had a feeling who it was on the line..

After how tense things were with Mallory - you knew they probably weren’t going to be on friendly terms anytime soon.. especially in front of you. And judging by how.. oddly relaxed he seemed (yet timid when he caught your gaze and realized you were staring), it had to be one person.

You were about to sink back into the couch and try your best to not speculate what they were talking about, but before you could fully turn - you realized Michael was sauntering towards you.. clearly still on the phone.

Oh fuck.

Before you could ask what was wrong, the look he gave you alone ushered you to silence.

He quickly held the phone away from his ear. A quick glance at the screen confirmed that the call was still active.

“You said you forgive Madison.. right?” He spoke lowly. His words barely audible, more so mouthing the words than actually speaking them.

You looked at him with a expression you’re sure looked as if you were furious but you were really just completely confused. You wanted to ask but.. there was no time if she was on the phone, but knowing what you were about to get yourself into would also be nice to know.

His eyes had since lost the sharpness that had nearly cut you earlier, instead swarming with urgency and a bit of panic.. It had to be Madison. The only person that could ever have that effect on Michael was Madison.

You simply nodded in response. Not trusting yourself to speak quietly outloud but you also didn’t exactly trust your response because it wasn’t exactly truthful, but Michael seemed to be level headed.. for now.

Michael immeadietly turned and held the phone back up to his ear, this time staying in closer proximity and within ear shot. Putting on his shoes as he continued to hold the conversation he was having.

“Okay

...

So when are you coming?

...

Great, see you then. . . Bye.”

If you didn’t just hear the words that you thought you had heard.. you knew under normal circumstances your heart would’ve ached when you realized how Michael hesitated before he said goodbye, most likely catching himself before he said ‘I love you’. Instead though, you felt a gruesome wave of nausea suddenly rise through you.. urging you to shakily stand up and speak without thinking.

“She’s coming to see you?”

Michael barely gave you a second glance as he turned around and started to head for the front door of the apartment.

“Yes. You’ll be seeing her too, don’t worry.” He spoke before he quickly let the door shut behind him.

You continued to stand, utterly speechless.

Part of you wanted to run after him and the other part merely wanted to scream in anger that he had already made fucking plans but instead you felt numb. Numb and calm.

You returned to your bag and unpacked, trying your best to not let your emotions consume you like they previously had too many times.. until you finally broke down and called Mallory.

Taglist: @michaellangdonstanaccount @langdonsexual @jimmason @blakescoven @dark-mei-rose @9layerdevilfoodcake @prophecy-is-inevitable @matildaofoz @beautyiswithinchaos @frenchlangdon @king-with-no-crovvn @melodylangdon @littledemondani @langdons-pinkyring @celestialrequiem @sojournmichael @mindlesschicca

Let me know if u would like to be added or removed to the taglist!!

#michael x reader #Michael Langdon x reader #michael langdon fanfic #michael langdon fanfiction #Michael Langdon #my fic #Imminient Annihilation #hopefully y’all like this and it’s not all over the place djdjd #about to post to ao3 like always #ALSO thank u for the 2k hits on ao3!! 🥺💖 #also side note - Jennifer’s body was amazing and now I wanna write something related 😭

[dream-girls-evil]

Silent Moments of the Nighttime

Alright alright, the promised one-shot is here!!! Hope y’all like it! It’s part of a series I’m working on (very out of order) just a bunch of missing scenes detailing Misty’s relationships in the coven and especially with Cordelia. Title from Stevie Nicks’ Planets of the Universe, because when don’t I title things after Stevie Nicks songs?

Only the four of them were left: Misty and Stevie talking on the couch while Cordelia and Myrtle took advantage of the warlocks’ library. Attention already only half on her selection, Cordelia looked up when Stevie paused to yawn for the third time in five minutes. 

“It’s after midnight,” she murmured. Myrtle hummed her agreement, closing the thick Latin text she’d chosen and standing.   

“I think it’s high time we all retire for the night. Stephanie, a room has been prepared for you, if you’d like to follow me?” The White Witch nodded, disentangling her fingers from Misty’s to stand and stretch. 

“Thanks, Myrtle.” Misty looked up at her, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. Stevie’s smile turned soft as she turned back, bending to press a kiss to the swamp witch's forehead. “Try to get some rest, honey. We can talk more tomorrow.” The affection did little to ease Misty’s anxiety, but she nodded dutifully. Misty kept her eyes trained on her idol until she and Myrtle rounded the corner, attention immediately flicking to Cordelia and unsurprised to find the Supreme already looking at her. 

“We don’t have to go to sleep yet, do we?” Cordelia abandoned her book to stand in front of the younger woman, offering her hands with a grin.   

“Come on, I want to show you something.” Misty expression showed her confusion, but she didn’t hesitate before letting Cordelia pull her up, keeping one of the smaller hands between her own as she was led upstairs. Her footsteps stuttered to a halt when the entered the Supreme’s sleeping quarters, Cordelia slipping from her grasp with a reassuring squeeze. She pulled an old, worn carpet bag from the wardrobe, and Misty sucked in a breath. Her fingers twitched at her sides, but she didn’t say anything, didn’t hope, until Cordelia placed it on the bed and sat down. 

“Open it,” she encouraged. Misty’s trembling hands slipped on the clasps, and a watery cry tore from her throat when she finally laid eyes on her things. One hand covered her mouth, the other running over the various colorful fabrics. She looked at Cordelia, who watched her with a matching expression of joy and disbelief. The Supreme cleared her throat, a blush dusting her cheeks. “When I realized Michael might be able to rescue you, I…wanted to be prepared. Now you won’t have to sleep in that dress.” 

“You kept my things?” Cordelia swallowed thickly, fitting her fingers between Misty’s reaching ones. The swamp witch pushed the luggage aside so she could sit, their shoulders brushing as they face each other. 

“Getting rid of them felt like giving up,” she whispered. “I never stopped looking for a way to get you back, Misty. I want you to know that. We never forgot you.” Cordelia wiped a stray tear from Misty’s cheek. Her bottom lip trembled as she looked into the soft brown eyes she’d never had a chance to see before. For the first time, it really hit Misty that five years had passed without her, and she broke down, burrowing her face into Cordelia’s shoulder as the Supreme held her close. 

“Thank you.” Cordelia hushed her, holding her close and running fingers through her messy waves until she’d calmed down. 

“That’s the first time you’ve cried, isn’t it?” 

“There were more important things to worry about.” Her arms tightened around Cordelia’s waist. “When you collapsed, for a moment I thought this was all just some new version a’ Hell.”   

“Oh, Misty, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” She pulled back, just enough to make Misty raise her head. “Nothing is more important right now than how you feel. You’ve been through something unimaginable.” The swamp witch opened her mouth to protest, but Cordelia held her gaze intently until she nodded. Misty's fingers tapped a random pattern on her hip, loosely grasping at the fabric there until Cordelia pulled them away, wrapping them in her own. Their rings clinked together, and Misty looked down at them in thought. If she recognized any of the ones Cordelia wore as her own, she didn’t say. 

“I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want to remember.” 

“I know, and that’s okay. It’s going to take time.” She tucked a curl behind the younger woman’s ear, smiling gently. “And I’ll be right here when you do.” Misty held the hand there against her cheek, biting her lip. 

“I can’t stop seein’ it when I close my eyes. I can’t—I don’t want to be alone.” Cordelia hummed in understanding. 

“You don’t have to be. Stay here tonight, with me.” 

“You don’t mind?” Her eyes lit up with hope, and Cordelia’s heart broke just a little, so she squeezed Misty’s hand tighter. 

“Never. Come on, let’s get changed.” Misty felt the tension leak out of her shoulders at the Supreme’s words, and she sighed. When Cordelia moved toward the bathroom, she turned back to the suitcase. A giggle bubbled up inside her throat—her favorite shawls and skirts were all there. Just the feeling of the tassels and lace slipping through her fingers made her feel like twirling. Smiling, she pulled out a short-sleeved, white nightdress. The bathroom door was still closed, so she eagerly shed her dress—her funeral dress—and slipped it on. Only Stevie’s shawl got carefully folded and placed at the very top of the pile. 

Misty was humming Rhiannon when Cordelia came out of the bathroom, facing away from her while she pulled off her rings and bracelets. Cordelia just stood there for a moment, breath caught in her throat. 

“Miss Cordelia?” She blinked out of her daze. Misty watched her expectantly, feet tucked under the covers and arms around her knees. The shorter woman shook her head with a smile.   

“I wish you’d stop calling me ‘miss’,” Cordelia chuckled, crawling into bed beside her. “I don’t want any formality, not with you. You’re my best friend, Misty.” The swamp witch offered her own smile, sliding down to lay on the opposite pillow. 

“You’re mine, too.” She offered her hand between them, and Cordelia took it, using her mind to dim the lights. “Y’know, this is the first time I’ve seen your real eyes.” 

“I suppose it is,” she whispered sleepily. She could feel Misty’s eyes on her as her own slipped shut despite herself; it had been an exhausting day. 

“They’re beautiful.” 

Cordelia woke some time later, pushing further into her pillow before registering Misty’s ocean eyes still trained on her face. She yawned, blinking sleepily in the dark. 

“Sweetheart, you need to try and sleep.” The younger woman’s hand tightened in her own. 

“What if I don’t wake up?” She whispered. “What if I get stuck again? Maybe—“ Misty took a shuddering breath, “What if I never came back , an’ this is my new Hell? Bein’ here with you and then realizing it was all a dream?” 

“Hey, come here.” The swamp witch came willingly as Cordelia tugged her closer, adjusting so she was on her back. “Listen. Can you hear my heartbeat?” Misty nodded against her chest, wild curls tickling the Supreme’s nose. She stroked them away but nuzzled closer, breathing in the still-familiar scent of herbs and rainwater. “You’re real, Misty. This is real. I’ve got you, and I will never let you go back there.” Misty sank into the embrace, letting herself be lulled by the steady pulse of Cordelia’s heart and her soothing words. She finally let her eyes close. 

“Thank you, Delia.” The Supreme only responded by holding her tighter.

#american horror story #ahs apocalypse #ahs fanfiction #cordelia goode #misty day #foxxay #goode-day

[galbinuscarnation]

Singing in the Rain

When Alastair Carstairs becomes a resident of the London Institute, Matthew Fairchild finds an unexpected companion during a night out of town.  Trigger Warnings: Alcoholism, microaggressions (racism, sexism) Malastair fan fiction.  Ao3: Link

Water trickled between the cobblestones and the air was moist and foggy. Matthew Fairchild stumbled and leaned against a lamppost to get his bearing in the last hours of the evening. He attempted to blink away the now settling sleepiness from his night out at the tavern. The alcohol wasn’t helping matters, he felt as if his family home was much farther than realized, although it was normally an easy walk for a glamoured shadowhunter. He reached into his pocket for his stele, and applied a shaky night vision rune. Still the fog persisted although he was able to walk towards his home easier without the help of the lamps. The rows of townhouses were starting to become more and more unfamiliar and eventually Matthew sat on a bench to rest. He swayed a little and heard something shift next to him, and a small note grow hushed. Matthew would reflect that he was much more intoxicated than intended, for being near such a disturbance should have kicked his warrior instincts into gear. Instead he stared besides him into the eyes of the last person he expected to be sitting on the bench alone. Well, now he wasn’t alone any longer, but that did not wipe the scowl off the bleach blonde man’s face as he regarded Matthew’s rumpled and wet state. “Allo, fancy seeing you here, Alastair ‘Eyebrows’ Carstairs,” Matthew greeted with a sloppy grin. Alastair arched his aforementioned dark eyebrows upward at Matthew’s presentation, and seemed to realize his own actions and the words Matthew had spoken. He wiped his brow, in a sad attempt to mask it as wiping the rain but was a self conscious acknowledgement of his contrasting complexion. He turned away from Matthew and frowned at the darkness beyond their lamppost illumination. “Where is your party, and dare I say, my sister?” He asked. Matthew sighed and lolled his head back to let the drops drip down his face. “I’m out alone, everyone’s in bed I assume.” Matthew admitted. He tilted his head towards Alastair. “You have a nice voice.” “Pardon?” Alastair sputtered, and even in the mist Matthew could catch the faintest blush on his face. “Your singing? You were singing yes? Or humming…” Matthew closed his eyes and yawned, before nodded his head at an unspoken agreement. “Yes, it was quiet but lovely, it could lull me to sleep.” “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about Fairchild,” Alastair spat, getting up suddenly. “Still as incorrigible as ever,” Matthew muttered, but then pouted at the other man’s actions. “No wait,” He snatched Alastair’s coat and tumbled off the bench, his knees landing in a small puddle. A pair of arms reached over belatedly to help him stand up. “Hey…” Alastair pressed his hand on Matthew’s cheek and neck to right his head and get Matthew to look at him properly. “You’re intoxicated.” “Duly noted,” Matthew slurred with a chuckled, and leaned against Alastair’s warm coat. “And lost… I’ll admit I’m also lost in the maze that is London.” He heard a harsh swear in a foreign language that sounded derived in the same sort of root as the soft sounds he heard earlier. Alastair wrapped Matthew’s arm over his shoulder, and began to walk with Matthew leaning languidly against him. Together they began to take steps, Matthew would recall he was utilizing muscle memory that Alastair conjured from leading him to the right path. “You ought to present yourself more decently than this.” “Ought I?” Matthew glanced up at Alastair’s mopped hair, covering half his face from its dampness. “You of all people would be elated that I’m presenting less than admirably.” “Why should my opinion be of any use to you?” Alastair grumbled, flipping his hair off of his eyes and squinting in the mist. “You wouldn’t even be bothered by it.” “On the contrary,” Matthew drawled and paused, in realization. He grimaced and managed to shift his weight so Alastair wouldn’t be hefting the brunt of it after all, sobering slightly. “Forget it.” Alastair was silent for a moment, as they reached an intersection, before he turned and led Matthew onward. “I bother you that much.” It wasn’t a question, and Matthew could feel the incoming wave of guilt that he was used to drowning in absinthe and not rainwater. He hadn’t realized they’ve stopped again until he felt an oddly reassuring hand on his back, and he suddenly leaned up against a wall and vomited into an alleyway. “Matthew,” He could faintly hear Alastair’s warning, but he collapsed against the wall and upchucked some more before wiping his face with the back of his hand. He heaved, but had nothing left to empty, and coughed.

“There goes supper,” Matthew moaned sorrowfully for a moment as he stared at the mess. He was met with silence, and had a sudden panicked thought that Alastair has abandoned him. He glanced up to see Alastair standing underneath a roof collecting rainwater with a kerchief. He clutched it and hurried back, before thrusting it in Matthew’s face.

“Wipe, you’re filthy.” He murmured, and despite his vocabulary his tone was kind. Matthew simply stared in bafflement at the cloth and Alastair grunted in frustration before beginning to wipe Matthew’s mouth and cheeks himself.

“Wh...why?” Matthew breathed as Alastair held his hands and began to wipe them as well.

“If your parabatai caught you in this state under my care I’ll never hear the end of it from my sister.” Alastair explained. Matthew was at a loss for words, he could only stare at the worry wrinkles in Alastair’s forehead and the knot of concentration in his expressive dark eyebrows. Matthew cleared his throat, and Alastair suddenly looked up as if in realization of whom he was doting upon.

“That’s not… what I meant.” Matthew confessed. Alastair could only stare as Matthew leaned closer to inspect the water droplets upon his face. “I meant… why am I bothered by you of all people.”

Alastair opened his mouth, probably in an attempt at a dismissive retort, but Matthew shushed him with his thumb. Alastair swallowed and Matthew was aware of their foreheads touching. He couldn't tear his eyes away from his once arch nemesis, the one that clouded his thoughts nearly once a day.

“Matthew,” Alastair spoke with a pained noise and gently pushed Matthew against the sturdy wall and repeated, “you’re intoxicated.”

Matthew’s head thumped at against the stone and he could only see the vaguest sense of longing from Alastair’s forlorn expression before everything went black.

Some time since then Matthew found himself grumbling and fumbling, and was cocooned in a bed sheet. He felt familiar hands grasped his own and he unleashed a dopey smile. “Jamie? James is that you?”

“What priced head have you parabatai?” Matthew fluttered his eyes open to see James Herondale peering at him with a mixture of genuine concern and disappointment. Matthew groaned in realization and put a hand to his throbbing head.

“Enough so that I cannot recall coming to bed.” Matthew admitted. James shook his head with a slight chuckle.

“I swear on the angel that I never thought I’d see the day Alastair Carstairs arriving sopping wet with you in his arms. I nearly walloped him right then and there if Cordelia hadn’t restrained me.” James described how he awoke with unexplained apprehension before rousing Cordelia and Lucie to inquire about Matthew’s last known whereabouts. They were dressed to brace the rain when Alastair barged into the institute with his unconscious body.

“That would have been a sight to behold,” Matthew smiled and then winced. What an unfortunate turn of events that would have been for the shadowhunter who guided him (and apparently carried him) home. The longer he was awake the more he began to remember the events of the night past.

James had continued fretting and then Lucie and Cordelia arrived with Thomas and Christopher. Matthew could hardly muster the energy for his fools facade, that he had a bit too much ale, that it was merely a rare occurrence. Hardly anyone seemed to suspect a thing was afoul, although initially Christopher was under the impression that Matthew was gravely ill, and Thomas seemed cheered at the fact that his school boy hero had actually committed a kind act. Lucie was peppering Matthew with questions about why on earth Alastair was out and about, but he feigned ignorance. James was too preoccupied with a medical journal and applying runes to his arms to help him disguise last night's events from the prying eyes of their parents. Only Cordelia seemed to have a much harder, perhaps suspecting stare at Matthew throughout the morning.

Eventually Matthew had the ability for a moments peace, and lumbered his way to getting dressed. He snapped his suspenders on and was brushing his hair when he heard laughter outside the institute. He peered from the curtains to see his very own brother Charles Buford Fairchild with his fiance, Ariadne Bridgestock on his arms, accompanied by none other than Alastair Carstairs. Gone was the dour, melancholy man from the night before. Here he was cheered and even laughing in unison with Mrs. Bridgestock. Matthew frowned, suddenly overcome by a twisting feeling in his gut. He didn't have time to waste, obviously Alastair had informed his brother of his whereabouts, since the couple happened to be spending a short time visiting his parents in the town house.

Matthew threw on a dull brown jacket he’d left around, his entire wardrobe was usually at his home and the club room. He thrust open his door only to collide into Cordelia. After taking a moment to gather his bearings, and fix his hair, Matthew gave Cordelia a look of astonishment. She glowered uncharacteristically back at him, and Matthew felt the knot in his stomach tighten further.

“What happened between you and my brother?” Cordelia inquired, frowning up at him.

“I haven’t the faintest idea.” Matthew answered with a crowd pleasing smile.

“I am aware that you were faint last evening, but I am referring to the Academy.” Cordelia amended. Matthew narrowed his eyes and leaned against the wall of the corridor. Cordelia could be an enigma, she was Lucie’s parabatai but she was also a Carstairs, and due to family circumstance her brother and she were now living at the institute. She either had no idea what transpired between Alastair and James at the Academy or she knew it all, and Matthew wasn't sure which was worse.

“Why do you ask?” Matthew decided to find out what she knew, if anything.

“Because the way you gaze at each other is like how Anna and Mrs. Bridgestock do. I simply mean to know what the context is.” Cordelia softened her hard stare, and was staring at him with a curiosity and understanding of a younger sister. Unfortunately for Matthew he was never made aware that Anna had also confided in Cordelia regarding her… history.

“Are you implying that Alastair and I were-” Matthew’s voice was raised an octave he never thought to achieve when the bell of the institute rung, announcing the arrival of his brother. Cordelia’s eyes widened in shock at Matthew’s demeanor, and Matthew realized his grave error.

“I didn't mean to speak of any offense?” Cordelia’s voice echoed down the hall in confusion, but Matthew had briskly made his exit. Matthew’s mind was buzzing as if it were a hive containing a thousand bees, after the implications of Cordelia’s words and last night he was forced to reexamine many things. He simply did not have the time to analyze every interaction he had with Alastair since the Academy days, but now what was he to do? Matthew brushed a shaky hand through his quaff and took a deep breath before displaying yet another facade for a different type of crowd. “Well I thank you again, Alastair, for your prompt notice about my brother,” Charles Buford Fairchild could be heard in the foyer. “I need to have a word with the head of the institute regarding a request from the Consul. I trust you to attend to Mrs. Bridgestock while we’re here.” Matthew had almost stepped out to greet his great bore of a brother but he was already walking elsewhere, presumably to Uncle Will’s office. “I doubt you need ‘attending’ to,” Alastair said in a smart yet dejected tone, and Ariadne let out a cough into her gloves. She then gave Alastair a gentle pat on the arm, and Matthew squinted suspiciously. He had no tolerance for the enemies of his friends, and Anna didn’t delve to much into detail, but Matthew understood heartbreak when he saw it. Alastair he was forced to tolerate, also it was much easier to fume from afar and potentially eavesdrop. “He’s a gentleman, and you are his closest confidant.” She assured him. “What more can I ask for?” “Perhaps he could give your prowess credit when it’s due.” Alastair reminded her with a scowl. This comment made Matthew arch an eyebrow, he’d never known Alastair to criticize his brother, at least in his presence. Perhaps he wasn’t the only one compelled to act in a certain manner for the politics and propriety obsessed Charles Buford. “Indeed.” Ariadne agreed, and nodded in the direction Matthew thought he was cleverly hiding in. “I thought it was Mister Herondale who blended with the shadows.” Alastair made a uncharacteristic noise upon noticing Matthew’s presence. Matthew frowned and stepped out from his corner, making no secret of his distaste with Ariadne for the time being. Ariadne only tore her eyes away from Matthew’s for a moment to glance at Alastair, but she held her head high. “Clearly I didn’t blend in enough,” He observed, and gestured to the grand windows shining the early afternoon sun upon his golden head of hair. “Must be my complexion.” The pair shared a painstakingly obvious look of solidarity and disbelief, but they said nothing and raised their equally dark eyebrows at each other. Alastair cleared his throat and the moment was forgotten. “You’re welcome, by the way.” “Pardon?” Matthew faced Alastair so he wouldn’t have to dwell too much on Ariadne’s presence. “I informed your brother that after cards you spent the night in the Institute,” Alastair explained. “I… did?” Matthew was at a loss as to why he would tell such a fib. “He failed to mention your hair powdered escapades last night.” Ariadne added. Matthew’s jaw dropped at Ariadne’s crass. “Which you would be grateful for Mr. Fairchild.” “I am grateful!” Matthew argued. “Splendid!” Ariadne shot back. At her raised tone, Alastair placed a hand on her shoulder and she took a breath, produced a fan and fanned herself with it. Matthew huffed and cast a sidelong glance at Alastair’s atrociously attractive mug before stomping away from the pair. He marched straight out the door, paused and turned back to them. “Do us all a favor and stop interfering.” He stared pointedly at Ariadne, since he could not stop Alastair from coming and going as he pleased. With the final words he slammed the front door shut. It was hardly noon and he was aching for another swig. The following week was wrought with strife between the Fairchild’s wedding preparations and the typical business of the London Institute. Matthew could hardly stand being in a home shared by his brother and Ariadne, and the club room was only accessible during business hours. He lamented spending any time at the institute for fear of encountering his nemesis Alastair. Cordelia attempted to initiate a continued conversation but Matthew busied himself with excuses.

His luck had run its course, because as he was sneaking away from his home once again he encountered Alastair on the same bench as the rainy night. Alastair bore his signature scowl and regarded Matthew apprehensively.

“I’d ask why you are out here all by yourself, but I remember you have a habit of drowning your potential in liquor.” Alastair sneered. Matthew rolled his eyes and waved his hands vague at the near empty streets.

“At least I don’t brood out in the open with such a ridiculous head of hair.”

“What is your grievance with my hair? You never fail to mention it, yet your hooligan friends bear unruly mops.” Alastair pointed out.

“It obvious that you as much effort as I do with my hair, and yet it’s so atrocious.” Matthew countered.

“Forgive me for not aspiring to your incongruous standards, Fairchild.” Alastair turned away and crossed his arms. “Don’t you have sordid business in the tavern to attend to?” Matthew plopped himself onto the bench besides Alastair, to his dismay. “Define ‘sordid’, mon cherí.” He carelessly rested his arm across the back, knocking against Alastair's jacket. He jolted and scooted away, to Matthew’s surprise, and for a moment Matthew was compelled to sooth the fear he thought had flashed in Alastair's eyes.

“Don’t speak to me like that.” Alastair croaked. Matthew frowned and relaxed his poster, recognizing that their feud wasn’t sustainable. There was an uncomfortable stretch of silence, it was usually Matthew’s expertise to fill it with his trusted companions. He was very hyper aware of silence, although there were distant noises of carriages and people about the night, he yearned to fixed it even with his nemesis. “That’s right, you spent some time in Paris with Charlie and his fiance.” Matthew murmured.

“Mrs. Bridgestock is my closest friend, you best withhold your scorn in my presence.” Alastair warned.

Matthew sighed and rested his head against his palm, staring up at Alastair under the illumination of the street lamp. “Why do you suppose I scorn her so?”

Alastair gave Matthew a sidelong glance, his frown deepening. “You scorn me, so you scorn anyone associated with my circles. Perhaps you even scorn your very own brother as well.”

Matthew raised his eyebrows and let out an awkward chuckle, covering his eyes a moment. “I don’t simply scorn people willy nilly.”

Alastair’s fist clenched on his laps, and he looked away from Matthew for a moment. “I’m aware of that as well…”

Matthew uncovered his eyes to catch Alastair’s distant expression. He reflected back to Cordelia’s inquires, despite how awkward it was to hear perhaps there was a truth. He yearned to please people, it took much of his energy to spite. He imagined how exhausting it must seem for Alastair, walking around as if he detested the very ground he walked upon. Why was it that he singled out Matthew of all the people he sneered at?

“Do you scorn me?” Matthew asked of Alastair. Alastair’s mouth opened quickly as he started to perform what Matthew could now see was as much of a facade as his own regarding his pretense of cheer and tomfoolery. “...truly Alastair?”

Alastair stared into Matthew’s eyes and paused, his mouth reworking itself from whatever he had been about to say. “I…” He got up suddenly, the spell Matthew hadn’t realized they were both under dissipating with the action. “I must attend to… to… my sister. It much too late for me.”

Matthew narrowed his eyes and got up, frustration flaring. “Answer my question.”

“Is that a demand?” Alastair stared challenging towards Matthew.

“Yes! … no! I mean…” For once Matthew what at a loss, but Alastair had already begun to storm away. Matthew ran his hand through locks, befuddled and now alone. He groaned and kicked the lamp post before shuffling away to do exactly what Alastair expected of him.

Later that evening Matthew fumbled around the corridor, pressing his hands against the walls to balance himself. The stone cold walls of the institute kept him from falling asleep right on the floor, but he desperately needed to be anything but conscious. His mind spun with the memory of his very Mama collapsing before his eyes, and the stricken expression of his dear Papa. He reached the door to the bedroom and pushed it, blindly reaching for the covers. He didn’t even kick the shoes off his feet, but when he landed on the mattress the world spun. He coughed and found himself moist in the face, but could not comprehend his tears until the sobs emitted from his mouth. He buried his face into the linen to muffle himself, and eventually he lost all senses, finally escaping his torment consciously Alastair stared owl eyed at the broken boy in his arms, who had barged into his room and bed. He knew that Matthew had no idea where he was or what he was doing, but when his nightshirt became stained with tears he mustered up enough wakefulness to rub Matthew’s back and murmur the tunes of his childhood, eventually rocking Matthew against him. He blinked away the sleepiness to concentrate on the lyrics.

“I’m so sorry…” Matthew whimpered, but Alastair could tell Matthew was experiences some sort of a night terror. He intellectually knew that Matthew was not speaking to him, but he still answered.

“I’m the one who's sorry Matthew.” Alastair confessed. He brushed Matthew’s deflated hair back into place and sighed, thinking of the state of his own hair. He was torn between his desire to have such looks or simply appreciate them upon the aesthetically attractive Matthew Fairchild. Alastair knew that it was the latter, but he couldn't let it be known. Matthew despised him, with good reason, and he found himself so infuriated with Matthew himself, only founded on the jeers and perceptions of him from the Academy. That time seemed as if it were a dream, so much had occurred since his school boy days.

The London Institute was much more isolated than the residents realize. Alastair found the tight knitted enclave disconcerting at best, but they were kind enough to take his sister in. He supposed they had no choice but to allow Alastair as well, despite his behaviors towards their children in the past. No doubt it was Charles influence that he weren't dragged down alongside his father…

Alastair sniffed and rubbed his eyes to rid himself of the treacherous tears threatening to escape. His quiet fury against his so-called patriarch festered but because of who he was holding against him, he wouldn't allow the grief to release. Instead his trembling lips concentrated, beginning to sing again. He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but Matthew’s cries lowered into sniffles and eventually settled completely. They nestled together, both relaxing within the hold. Alastair’s stubborn resting frown softened, and Matthew’s restlessness calmed, his expression settled down to a content smile. Despite everything, the pair slumbered peacefully through the night, for the first time in a long while.

#malastair #Matthew Fairchild #Alastair Carstairs #the last hours #the shadowhunter chronicles #fan fiction #galbinuscarnation #my fic