tried baptism but it felt like burning (c/w with @supremeinlilac)
Cordelia Goode x Reader
Word Count: 1.4k
Summary: a recurring dream and the woman who saved you
Warnings: angst/fluff
A/N: written for @lanawinters-ily for the secret santa gift exchange :) Nico's your actual secret santa but we've both been insanely busy and my baby got pretty ill today so I finished what we started together and am posting it on our behalf. I hope you enjoy it despite its short length. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!! (Also a big thank you to @grilledcheeseandguavajelly for organising everything!)
Song: My Ego Dies At The End by Jensen McRae
You had the dream again. It’d awoken you in the dead of night while the moon bathed your bed in holy light but you hadn’t felt holy in a long time. You weren’t sure if you ever really had. It is cloying to lay there in a place you don’t belong. You tumble from the bed, escaping the tangled web of your sheets before they can choke you any longer. Fumbling for your journal hidden in the back corner of your dresser drawer, you just barely manage to cross the threshold before the panic can set in. The steps creak with every gentle press of your foot against the wooden staircase. Even after all this time, you can’t remember which spots to avoid. Maybe you’re unaware of doing it on purpose. An unconscious part of you wishes that she will hear you and wake from her slumber to feel that you need her.
By the time you reach the dining room, you can finally breathe normally again. You still feel wrong, messed up, twisted, but that is only because the dream amplifies the feelings of what you already are. Keeping a safe distance from the moonlight threatening to stream into the room from behind the bay window’s curtains, you slump into a chair in the darkest corner before beginning to write as you always do.
You don’t know how long you sit there, the tip of your pen scratching messily across the page. It comes naturally to you now, familiar with it as you are. The dream plays over and over in your head and even though you had escaped the room it suffocated you in, you can’t escape your own mind. Your own demons. How they chase you down the halls of your heart.
“What are you doing awake at this hour?”
Your heart jumps in your chest and you spin in your chair to find her dark eyes darker still in the shadows of the dining room. Maybe she had heard you. Was it the creaky staircase or had your soul been calling her name?
She takes in the haggard expression on your face and the desperate way your fingers cling to the corner of your journal, creasing the pages where your fingertips dig in. You didn’t think her tone could get softer until it does, sinking into your heart to make a home there. “What is it, sweetheart?”
You are not used to her kindness, even now. Tears jump in your eyes but you can’t remember how to speak. She eases into the room, gliding across the floor in her bare feet. An angel in a nightgown. Her fingers brush against your cheek, featherlight as if afraid she will break you if she presses too hard. “Can I see?” she asks, stroking away a tear that has broken free.
You look down at the pages, the remnants of your soul lay bare across parchment paper and smeared ink. You are ashamed of it, of the pieces of you not whole, but you can’t say no. Not to Cordelia. While your mind races with images you can’t forget, your soul screams out her name.
Swallowing the lump in your throat, you manage to nod. It is timid but Cordelia passes her thumb over your cheekbone again and you settle into place a little more steady than before, She eases the journal out from beneath your fingers, gentle as if holding your very heart in her hands. You miss the feel of her against your skin.
Long, slender fingers pass over the pages, the sloppy slanted letters written in a panic night after night, smeared and smudged where your hand had passed over them before they had been fully dried. One after the other, she turns them and you think it is never ending to see them again, nearly identical over and over. They all say the same thing because they are all the same dream.
Cordelia’s breath tumbles from her mouth, shaky, desperate, not unlike the timid heart that beats like a hummingbird’s wings in your ribcage. “Sweetheart-”
Your watery smile is fake but it is all you know. “I think I’m broken,” you say.
The journal lands with a thud against the dining room table. “No,” she breathes and before you can blink, she has wrapped you up in her arms, fingers cupping the back of your head to keep your nose buried in her neck. She smells like the greenhouse, like flowers, like the life that has sprouted from the earth has been brought forth by the very hands holding you gently now.
You didn’t know what a relief it would be to be seen until she saw you. Tears fall from the corners of your eyes, dripping down your nose and landing on the bare skin of her collarbone. A piece of you melding into a piece of her. You cling to her on instinct, fingers curling into her robe to keep her close, to keep her heartbeat singing in your ears.
Her cheek presses into the side of your head, lips brushing your ear. You shiver in spite of yourself. “You are so whole,” she whispers. “There is nothing wrong with you.”
You take in a shaky breath and will the sobs dissipate because you know they will hurt when they finally purge themselves from your throat, sharp and deadly as they pull themselves free. You can feel them building there now. “You promise?” you whisper and it is as broken as you feel.
Cordelia brushes her hands down each side of your face, her palms warm and her rings cold against your skin. She pulls you back to look at her, her beautiful face appearing like a watercolour painting behind the tears you can’t seem to stop. You feel out of control, spiraling, twisting. The noises in your head are only a reminder of the things your mind can’t forget. You don’t know how long you’ve been so lost. “Look at me, baby,” she coaxes, pulling you out of the dark corner you’d started to tuck yourself back into. You don’t deserve the light. You are not holy. “I promise,” she swears, thumbs stroking down your face, your cheeks, your jaw, the dip in your chin. She lingers there, and you breathe in her life as if it will revive your own.
Your voice cracks. “How do I make it stop?”
“You trust me,” Cordelia says simply, as if it is that easy to be baptised.
Looking into her eyes, you can’t find a single reason not to. Your soul had sighed her name, lovingly, lamently, easily because it is the only name you have ever known. “Cordelia-”
“Shh,” she soothes, tilting your chin up. Her head ducks, blonde hair brushing against your face when she leans down. Your foreheads touch and your eyes close on instinct, giving into her all and letting her cradle you. “I’ve got you, darling.” You know that, can feel it as surely as you can feel your heart beating in your chest. It aches to be closer to her, to become part of her, to know what it feels like to be perfect and so very whole. You wonder if she is the remedy. If she is the cure to being broken.
Your lips meet, a slow and steady brush of your mouths and you think this is the most patient you have ever been in your life. She is as steady as summer rain, warm and soft and gentle. You want to tilt your head back and breathe her in and feel the drops hit your face. For a moment, you think they are. That Cordelia’s rain has deemed you worthy of redemption and is baptising you anew, but they are only your own tears flowing freely. But Cordelia does not find them disgraceful, does not turn up her nose and wish you would hide them away. Instead, she pulls you closer and kisses you for longer so that you might bloom beneath her mouth. You forget that your own broken pieces are not whole as she holds you together beneath her hands. The images in your mind grow distant.
It’s not until you both pull away to breathe that you notice the moonlight shining through the previously closed curtains.
It hits your skin and doesn’t burn.
Tag List: @lovelypeasantjellyfish @angelxsarahp @everyoneseesaghost @serawalkerwrites @vintagepaulson @lntlmate @billiedeansbottom @twistedpoeticjustice @goodeday2u @lucyintheskywithxanax @mrsdeanhoward @talulahmae If you’d like to be added or removed, just let me know :)
I'm taking pictures in my mind so I can save them for a rainy day - Stay Beautiful by Taylor Swift
Word count: ~1100
Merry Christmas @isle-of-earle I'm your secret Santa 🎅. I hope you like this little Mina x Delia fic, fluff with a little dusting of angst as requested. I was so excited to get to write for you. I hope you like the title too 😉
Thank you so much to @grilledcheeseandguavajelly for organising this again, amazing job honey
Wilhemina had never been one to see the magic in Christmas. The hordes of screaming children and last minute shoppers. The gaudy decorations and the incessant carols that appeared earlier and earlier each year. The mountains of presents used to buy another year's affection from friends and family. The epitome of commercialism.
And so Wilhemina never decorated. She avoided Christmas festivities like the plague and refused to tolerate even the first few notes of a festive tune. And she never exchanged gifts. Not that she had anyone to exchange them with. Not until now, not until Cordelia.
But as she stood at the base of Robichaux's grand staircase, quietly watching as Cordelia patiently sat by the fireplace untangling seemingly endless strings of Christmas lights, her opposition to Christmas lay long forgotten. Any occassion which bought this soft, contented smile to her girlfriend's face as she sat bare faced and cross-legged in front of the glowing embers was worth celebrating.
As with many things since they had begun dating, Cordelia breathed life into Christmas, allowing Wilhemina to see joy and beauty in places she could never have imagined. Silly, trivial things like how Cordelia would automatically prepare two cups of tea now instead of one, would press a soft kiss to her cheek in passing simply because she felt like it, would unconsciously snuggle closer to her in her sleep, would sleepily mumble "I love you" as her last words every night and as her first again the following morning. These things should have infuriated her, should have made her recoil in disdain and disgust like they had for years, decades, past. But not anymore. Not since Cordelia.
No matter what Cordelia seemed to glow, filling everything she touched with beauty and light and hope. And now as stood mesmerised by her Delia once more she couldn't help wonder whether the supreme hadn't filled her with those things too. That maybe the tender blossoming light beginning to take root within her chest, allowing her to open herself up to the good and kind and sweet in the world around her, wasn't Cordelia's doing too.
For as long as Wilhemina could remember Christmas had been a time of cruel sterility and forced conversation. Her parents' vast house would be decorated professionally, lest even one bauble be out of place. She would be stuffed into an oppressive Christmas outfit that would have been picked out by her mother (or at least by the sales assistant she had asked in the fancy boutique where she had purchased it) that would itch and scratch and never fit properly. She would sit idly as her father and grandfather discussed the state of the world and her grandmother once again rued her unfortunate hair colour (clearly the result of her mother's poor pedigree). Nothing good ever came out of Christmas. Not until Cordelia.
But now as the smell of freshly baked cinnamon cookies mingled with the smoke of the fire and the hint of pine from the as yet undressed Christmas tree Wilhemina allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, this year would be different. Maybe this year would be worth celebrating.
As if the universe meant to reassure her, to quietly whisper "Yes, it's ok. You can trust this" in that very moment Cordelia turned to face her, warm contentment giving way to outright joy as she recognised Wilhemina.
"So what do you think?" Cordelia queried as she dusted herself off and crossed the room to join her girlfriend.
"Beautiful" Wilhemina whispered reverently, pushing a stray strand of hair from her girlfriend's face as she gently leaned in to the proffered kiss.
Cordelia rolled her eyes. "I wouldn't go that far honey, I've barely started."
"I was talking about you"
Cordelia could feel the blush dance across her cheeks, unable to stop herself from biting her lip and ducking her head. "When did you become such a sweet talker?" She quipped.
"Since I started spending so much time with you" Wilhemina whispered.
For a moment they just stood there, savouring a rare moment of peace in a house bustling with dozens of young witches. Cordelia allowed her head to drop to Wilhemina's shoulder as her arm rested gently around her girlfriend's waist, always wary of unintentionally hurting her.
"Would you like to help me decorate the tree honey?" Cordelia ventured, knowing that Christmas was a potentially fraught subject with Wilhemina.
"I wouldn't know where to start" Wilhemina whispered, "I've never decorated a tree before."
"I hadn't either until I came here" Cordelia offered. "My mother wasn't ever really one for Christmas, or any other annual event that marked the passage of time, if she was even in the country. I spent my first Christmas here just Myrtle and I, all the other girls had family to go back to. I remember her teaching me how to properly space out all the ornaments for maximum effect. I may not have appreciated her taste in ornaments, but I treasured that day."
Cordelia slowly made her way back across the room towards a large box of ornaments placed beneath the tree. After a few moments rumaging she produced a round object carefully wrapped in tissue paper. As she unwrapped it a Christmas bauble adorned in all colours of jewels and crystals appeared, glistening in the firelight. "This was one of her favorites" Cordelia murmured, "I always hated it but now it lets me feel like she is still here for Christmas, at least in some small way."
"She would be so proud of you" Wilhemina murmured, moving to join her girlfriend in front of the tree. "I know I am"
"I'd like to think so" Cordelia offered a somewhat watery smile. "Would you like to help me put it up?"
Wilhemina was noticeably hesitant but the warmth in Cordelia's gaze gave her confidence, reaching out to cup her girlfriend's hands in her own. "Together?" she ventured.
Cordelia met her eyes and smiled. "Always my love"
I was so happy when I got the message that I was the lucky one who gets to write something for you, @billiedeansgirl! It was so hard to keep it from you!
I really hope you like what I came up with. I know we talked about it for a long time and I really wanted to give my all for you. I love you, Honey!!! <3
And a big thank you to @grilledcheeseandguavajelly for organizing this years Secret Santa. I really had a blast!
Pairing: Mildred Ratched x Reader
Words: 3,035
Warnings: mentions of foster care system, child abuse
“How dare you?” amber eyes were filling with tears as she screamed at the puppeteer on stage, “How dare you force these children to watch this show? What kind of place is this? How dare you? HOW DARE YOU?” standing up, her thin body was vibrating with rage and terror.
You were taken aback by her sudden outburst, how she had violently stood up and was now trembling right in front of you. The puppet show, even though clearly having been designed for children and not for grown woman such as you and Mildred, had been sweet and you had found it to be quite enjoyable.
Looking at Mildred, you were not sure anymore and started to wonder if you had maybe missed a hidden message, a twist in the plot or a homophobic slur.
Mildred was standing next to you, her body still vibrating with anger. You slowly stood up, your hand finding her clammy one. You tried to meet her gaze while you softly whispered her name, but her eyes were still focused on the stage. You let your thumb run over her cold palm, trying to ease her back into reality. Whatever she had seen, it must have shaken her to the darkest depths of her soul.
Finally, she looked at you. When your eyes met hers, you could feel your heart shatter into a million little pieces. Her beautiful hazel eyes, which usually were full of life, twinkling mischievously, were filled with unshed tears. Mildred looked terrified, panicked and scared.
You gently let one of your arms encircle her waist, not only to offer her a little piece of comfort, but also wanting to guide her out of the auditorium to save her from the piercing stares of the people around you.
However, Mildred wouldn’t let you. Mildred, who would always seek you out when in distress, would always crave your warmth, your touch, just took a few steps back from you – distancing herself physically and emotionally. She did not want to be near you, didn’t want to be saved by you. Instead of pulling into you as she always did, she pulled herself away, running out of the theatre.
A baby started to cry.
Still in shock by your girlfriend’s distress, all you could do was mumble a quiet apology as you too let your feet carry you out of the crowded room.
Your face was hit by the cold wind as you threw open the doors to make your way back to her. You did not find her right away. As you looked around for her, you asked yourself if the trees had always had a slight bend to them or if they had been scarred by the relentless force of the winds who blew unapologetically across the coastline of Lucia.
Monterey County, California, was a beautiful place. Especially here, in Lucia. If a painter had wanted to capture nature’s beauty you were sure he would have come here. He would have noticed how the teal colored water crashed violently against the rocks, which had been painted in various shades of grey over time. How the trees seemed to dance along to the songs the birds sung. How the sun peaked through the thickness of the leaves dressing their crowns, illuminating the coastline in a warm glow. A painter would probably also have noticed the lone squirrel a little further ahead, which desperately tried to find the last nuts and seeds before running away from the dark days into the safety of hibernation.
When you finally found Mildred, you could not help but notice how hauntingly beautiful she was. She sat on a little stone wall, the hat she had been wearing having been placed next to her. A few lone strands of her red hair had freed themselves from the confines of her low bun. Her gaze focused on the seemingly endless pool of water in front of her, looking into the faraway distance, the raging waves mirroring the turmoil in her head. Her red lipstick was still flawless, painting her beautiful lips in the color of love and death. The dark green slipover she wore had a dark spot right on the waistline and you wondered if she would like you to hand wash it for her since you knew she absolutely despised such menial tasks.
You came to a halt behind her, still a few feet away. Your eyes settled on the water in front of you. Mildred was still staring ahead. With the sun about to set, the water seemed to have been covered by a blanket made out of different colored threads of orange and red. The quacking of the seagulls appearing to protest against the nearing end of the day, willing the sun to stay up high in the sky just a little longer to chase the clouds away.
“I need you.” You barely heard her. You had thought she hadn’t even noticed your presence, still captured by the dark thoughts running through her head. A few steps and you were next to her, sitting down on the cold stone. A cold hand grabbed yours fiercely and you looked at the beautiful woman next to you. The look in her eyes would haunt you forever.
Have you ever looked deeply into brown eyes? The specs of darker and brighter tones, how they seem to be deeper than the deepest hole, how they are able to look right into your soul, how they grab your heart by the strings, pulling it out of you and keeping it warm in their gentle hands? Hers were swimming with tears.
You could feel your own eyes water, her pain seeping right into you, invading every fiber of your being, eating away at your skin, piercing through your muscles and drilling holes into your bones to spread through your body from there.
A single tear cascaded down her face. You let your hand capture her cheek while you let your thumb run over the soft skin under her eye. She held your gaze, willing you to help her, to make her pain go away, to chase away the demons gnawing at her soul. Your lips placed a kiss on her forehead on their own accord. You had never seen anyone look so sad, so small, so lost and still so painfully beautiful.
Mildred let her head sink to your shoulder as you let one hand encircle her waist, gently keeping her close to you. You could feel the tension in her body, could practically feel how she fought against the demons in her head, how she tried to chase away whatever memories the little puppet show had triggered.
She tried to come back to you, tried to come back to the present – to this moment, sitting on a little wall made out of stone on the coast of Lucia – with you.
You could feel her breath on your neck, could feel how she tried to get more air into her lungs, trying everything in her power to prevent herself from breaking down in your arms. You let your hands roam from her hip to the small of her back, rubbing small circles on her lower back, let your lips ghost over which ever part of her beautiful face you could reach without loosing your grip on her. You knew that she would not let herself sink down to the ground of the ocean until you were back at your shared motel room. Her safe haven.
“Can we go back to the motel, Millie?” your voice was barely above a whisper, afraid to speak to loudly, afraid to disrupt her fragile soul, afraid to hurt her bruised heart. You felt her nod against your shoulder as she took a shaky breath, wiping her eyes discreetly.
It took her a few minutes to actually move, to stand up on wobbly feet and to reach out her hand to you. Your fingers intertwined with hers and you gently took the key out of her coat pocket while you opened the passenger door for her to get into the car.
The drive back to the motel was mostly silent except for the quiet music coming from the radio. You looked at Mildred from time to time, but she just kept staring out the window, counting the trees you were passing to ground herself to reality, desperately trying to chase away the memories in her head.
You let out a breath you had not realized you had been holding as the small motel on the coastline came into view. Mildred looked at you for a second before she started playing with the rings on her fingers. You knew she hated to be vulnerable, knew she thought of herself as a burden, knew she wasn’t easy to handle sometimes. You immediately felt bad and reached for her hand so you could place a kiss in her palm. “I am just worried about you, Millie. You did nothing wrong.” a desperate attempt to stop your girlfriend from spiraling down a whole different path. She just nodded and looked out the window once again.
Before you were able to open the door for her she had already rushed outside, throwing up violently next to the car into a field of wild flowers. You ran to her, but she waved you off. She was back to it. Back to hiding, running, pretending.
You turned around, giving her some privacy and trying to compose yourself. This wasn’t the time for discussions about her pulling away from you, not the time to ask her about her family, not the time to grill her about anything. She had to come to you. She had to speak. She had to open up. All you could do was wait and hold out your hand for her to reach out for.
She walked past you, right to the door, but realizing the key was in your hands. She nervously played with the arms of the dark green shirt she had underneath her slipover. You could not remember a time where she had looked so much unlike herself as of right now – and your heart ached for her.
As soon as you had opened the door, Mildred walked right into the bathroom. She closed the door and you could hear the key being turned. She had never locked the door before.
The running water of the shower reminded you of rain. And rain reminded you of the first kiss you had with Mildred.
“Why do you keep running away? Why don’t you just stand still for a minute? Millie!” you had been tired and over it. It was always the same. Mildred would seek you out in the middle of the night and you would talk, you would laugh, you would cry. She always left in the morning without saying a word. You had told her. Last night. You had finally told her that you had feelings for her, that you wanted to try, wanted to try despite what could happen. You didn’t care anymore. Didn’t care what society thought about two women falling in love. You wanted her. Only her. Only she mattered, she was your everything, your reason for being on this earth, for being alive. She was the first flower to bloom during spring, the warm sun of summer, the most colorful leave during autumn and the prettiest snowflake falling from the sky once winter came around.
“We can’t! I can’t!” her voice was shrill, panicked even. You couldn’t help but notice how beautiful she looked. You were standing in the parking lot of the motel, a few feet away from each other. Your fight had started in the car because you had wanted her to stay the night with you, had wanted her to acknowledge what you had said last night, had wanted her to deal with her feelings which you knew she harbored for you. “Then we are over, Mildred. I can not do this anymore!” you had screamed and she had cried.
The rain was loud, thunder was roaring somewhere far away, lightning illuminating the otherwise dark sky irregularly. As you turned away, determined to walk straight to your room without ever turning around, you felt her grab your hand. You turned around, furious and enraged at her behavior.
Then she kissed you. And you kissed her back.
A loud bang disrupted your thoughts. You ran to the bathroom, trying to open the door. “Millie? Millie are you alright?” you knew you sounded desperate but you did not care. Only she mattered. Nothing had changed over the months you had been with her. “Open the door, Millie.. please..” you hoped she could not hear the tears in your voice.
A click. The door opened, revealing Mildred clad in a towel, her wet hair hanging loosely over her shoulders, eyes red rimmed. “I am sorry.” a whisper. You looked past her and saw a broken vase on the floor. You gently gripped her upper arms while you looked her up and down “Did you hurt yourself?” the worry in your voice was evident but disappeared as soon as she shook her head.
Your eyes searched hers, silently asking for permission to finally put your arms around her, to share her pain and take some of the weight of her shoulders. Seconds felt like hours, but finally she took a step towards you.
You took her hand into yours and guided her towards the small bed in the other room. Quickly you threw the covers aside, motioning for her to sit to which she complied. You handed her her favorite pajamas. “Why don’t you put on your pajamas while I hop in the shower quickly?” You gave her a smile.
When you returned with your hair still damp, you found her laying in bed with the covers up to her chin, facing you. She lifted the blanket, willing you to join her.
“Will you tell me what happened today at the puppet show, Millie?” You laid down next to her as you posed your question. Mildred scooted closer to you, silently asking to be held.
You knew she felt embarrassed and humiliated for having acted the way she did. She hid her face in the small space between your jaw and your shoulder as you opened your arms for her to rest in. “Don’t leave.” The tears were evident in her voice.
You cried with her. As she recited every gruesome detail of her past — the foster care system which completely and utterly failed her, the families which tormented, violated and degraded her, her brother who kept her close to himself by making her gentle soul feel guilty for having saved her own life.
Mildred told you what she had seen. How she had seen her whole life story on that stage in the small auditorium. She had been reminded of every single painful moment in her life, feeling like arrows piercing through her heart, making her bleed out on the floor while she was being stepped on.
Mildred told you what they had made her do. How she had to let herself be violated by her own brother — the only person she had left.
Mildred told you what he did. How he murdered them without remorse. She told you how she ran away and felt the guilt in every fiber of her being ever since.
You held on tightly to her trembling frame as she cried in your arms, as she let the grief and pain wash over her, letting it out at last. You placed kisses on her face wherever you could reach, trying to wash the tears away. You held on as strongly as you could – as if your embrace was the only thing preventing her from breaking apart. You could feel her fingernails digging into your skin and you welcomed the pain which somehow made you feel closer to her.
You didn’t notice your own tears cascading down your cheeks, your only focus being your girlfriend who was crying in your arms. You felt her pain, her anguish. Your voice was quiet as you placed a kiss underneath her earlobe “I am here, Millie. I will never leave you. I will always be here. I love you. So much. With all my heart. I will protect you. You are safe with me, Millie.” repeating the same words over and over again, engraving them into her brain, desperately trying to replace the words of terror she recited to herself over and over again.
You had no idea how much time had passed. How long she had been crying. How long you had been crying. Her erratic breathing had slowed down, the river of tears dried out, only a few lone ones escaping her reddened eyes. You had loosened your grip a little bit, but still kept her close to you. One hand had travelled to the back of her head, gently massaging her scalp while working through the knots in her hair. You could feel her cuddling up to you, less desperate than earlier. Now it was gentle, quiet.
“I love you, too.” her voice was hoarse and raspy, but the words she had uttered sounded like music in your ears. Your lips found hers in a tender kiss while you cupped her cheek, your eyes never leaving hers. “I am always here for you, Millie. Never forget that. You are not alone anymore.”
In this moment, Millie realized what love was supposed to be like. How being loved by someone was supposed to feel. How loving someone was supposed to feel. All her life she had believe love was about manipulation, violation and pain.
And then you came along. With your dazzling smile, your silly laugh, your vibrant eyes and your kind heart – showing her that love is about whispered secrets under the blankets, comforting hugs in times of despair, stolen kisses at work, sleepless nights without clothing, love letters in her lunch box, a warm meal prepared for her after a stressful day and Sunday mornings with coffee in bed while you read poetry to her
Alright peaches, it’s officially November, which means it’s time for my annual check in to ask if anyone would be interested in doing a Paulson Secret Santa this year! Let me know in the comments 😘
So this is my secret santa gift for @honeysorwell and I really hope I did soft!Mina justice for you Val :)) I hope you like it and that everyone has a fabulously happy and safe Christmas Day!!
also massive thank you to the wonderfully fabulous @grilledcheeseandguavajelly for organising this secret Santa so well!! you are appreciated, have an amazing day <33
Pairing: Pre Apocalypse!Wilhemina x Reader
Word count: 4186
Valentines Day
You’d finally made Wilhemina a valentine’s card, after several failed attempts at finding violet paper online, and signed it ‘From your secret admirer’. It made you laugh to yourself as you did it, not believing for a second that she’d fall for it. Sneaking out of her grasp in the bed the next morning, you’d buried the card within all the post at the foot of the door, before returning to your girlfriends’ warmth.
You’d both silently agreed that the day would be relatively normal, which meant no lie-ins despite the occasion. You also both had work to be getting to; long office hours which dragged in the absence of each other. The day was inherently normal, and boring so you found yourself anxious to return and relax with your girlfriend in the evening.
Upon arrival back home, you were met with Wilhemina sat at the table, your card held up in her fingers, a playful smirk set on her face. She’d obviously returned and began to sort through the mail that had been disregarded that morning, finding your card within the mess. You quickly fumbled to hand up your coat and kick the shoes into the footwell before making your way over to her in the kitchen.
“Secret admirer hmm?” she mused, eyes flicking back to the writing in the card. “Looks like you may have some secret competition eh Y/n. What do you think?”
Ignoring the humorous shake of your head, she pushed a card across the table with the letter opener, which was addressed to you in Wilhemina’s staple neat handwriting. “Ooooh” you teased, slowly prising it from beneath her finger and shaking it at her, smiling. The card was small and delicate, with Mina’s loopy writing across the page in her favourite deep purple ink. Pressed flowers adorned the front of the cards, arranged in a bouquet and you gasped at it.
Little one, I am so grateful I can share such occasions as this with you, and I hope to make our own festivity traditions in our future. Happy Valentines Day. From your love, Wilhemina Venable <3
Seen as you were busy smiling at the fact she always signed her full name, and blushing down at your feet at how she wanted to make traditions with you; you failed to notice the small paper package Wilhemina had drawn from a bag beside where she sat.
You were shocked when she pressed the parcel into your hands, eyes darting from the gift up to meet hers and returning slowly to what was in your palms. “What’s this?” you quizzed, hand coming to playfully nudge the woman sat in front of you to hide the surprise you felt at receiving a present.
A faint blush painted her cheeks, and an uncharacteristic nervousness overcame her, hands joining on her cane in front of her as you held the small, wrapped box up. Mina was nervous in case you thought she was going soft, or that the gift was unnecessary and unpractical, so you’d hate it. Her worries were uncalled for though, you’d loved any gift she had bought you previously and would continue to do so in the future.
As the paper was removed to reveal a CD in a blank case you couldn’t help but let confusion cross your face momentarily. Looking up to your girlfriend, she tentatively removed the disk from the casing and ushered you to sit before her.
“It’s a mixtape. I always hear you singing to music in the kitchen when you think I’m not listening, so I found the songs and made you this. I know you could very easily get a playlist nowadays but I’m not incredibly informed in all this new technology you see.” She paused, allowing you to lace your fingers between hers on top of her cane. “I wanted you to know that I don’t want you to have to hide something you love to do because you think I’d disapprove. Your voice is quite beautiful, my dear.”
You were speechless, simply just staring at your girlfriend in disbelief at the effort she had gone to, to give you a gift you’d cherish. You tried to say something but your voice caught in your throat, mouth opening and closing again. At your lack of a response, Mina’s face fell slightly and her fingers twitched on the cane she held.
“You hate it.” She stated, clearing her throat and face tightened, trying to avoid looking disappointed at your reaction. That broke your trance, head shaking rapidly and turning to cup her face in your hands, shocking her as you did.
“It’s perfect. You’re perfect. Thank you.”
“You’ve just made my card look bad now, that’s all.” You admitted, laughing softly and shrugging. She chuckled lightly, placing the CD back in its casing on the table and standing, hand finding yours and pulling you into her.
“I can think of another gift you can give to me little one.”
April Fools
You glanced over your shoulder at your girlfriend reading the book she’d recently found on the shelf, occasionally stopping to spoon muesli into her mouth before returning to the words. Happy that she wasn’t observing your actions, distracted by her book, you subtly spooned a teaspoon of salt into the mug on the left, and sugar into the other.
The clink of the metal spoon against the ceramic filled the kitchen, the noise oddly soothing and domestic in the otherwise heightened buzz of life. You picked up both mugs, bending slightly at the knee as you walked to the table. Wilhemina nodded as you placed the left mug beside her bowl; eyes not leaving the pages they were fixed on.
“Would you be dear and get the milk for me?” She asked just before you sat at the chair opposite and you obliged, crouching at the fridge before returning with the milk. She thanked you when you placed the milk down and settled in your chair, breathing heavily and scribbling on the crossword beside you.
Placing the book down, she gripped her mug between her hands, warming fingers against the ceramic, nails tapping slightly.
You met her eyes over the rim of both of your mugs, hers glinting with what looked suspiciously like mischief. You watched her take a big drink from her mug, tipping your own head back and doing the same as to not arouse your own suspicion, breaking your eye contact as you did so.
“Urghg what the?-” you spluttered, coughing at the harsh taste that invaded your mouth. You’d taken a very large gulp, not expecting the jarring taste prompting you to swallow and choke on the still hot tea. Calming down, you looked up at Mina, who was contently sipping at her drink, eyes bright and playful. Lowering the mug, you could see her lips pulled into a smug grin as she settled comfortably back into her chair, bemused at watching you trying to figure out how she’d managed to pull the wool over your eyes.
You groaned in defeat, head falling into your hands dramatically. You’d fallen for her trick, getting that milk that she never even touched. You didn’t notice. Why did you think she didn’t know what day it is. Wilhemina pushed herself up from her chair, hovering over your still hunched form. “Nice try little one” she cooed, patting your hair before leaving the room to get herself ready for work.
You huffed, arms crossing at your chest, smirk pulling at your lips at the fact she’d actually joined in on the pranks. Despite now having a disgusting taste in the back of your mouth, you felt happy at the fact you’d been challenged.
‘Oh it is on’ you thought to yourself, brain already wandering to things that could get Wilhemina back.
Easter
“I hate chocolate” she stated bluntly, making no attempt to take the egg from where you were eagerly holding it out to her.
“No one hates chocolate Wilhemina” you sulked, arms pushing the chocolate furter towards her, a pout set firmly onto your face. She gingerly took it from you, weighing it between her hands and looking at you through amused eyes.
“I made a rabbit pie for the festivities”
“You made a what- No. No!” you beckoned her with a finger to come closer as if you were to divulge a deep secret. You whispered urgently, “You baked the Easter bunny!” you feigned offence, as she scoffed at your theatrics.
You stopped. “Wait. Where did you even get a rabbit?” you stared, eyes wide in shock as she let a soft chuckle escape her lips, hand tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear as she did. “It’s chicken darling. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”
Holding the egg up and giving it a wave at you she spoke. “Share this with me then? It is a very copious amount of chocolate for one person to enjoy” she smiled, enjoying the way your face lit up at her request. Beaming, you quickly pecked her jaw before giddily skipping into the other room. Mina stayed for a second, bringing her fingers up to brush where your lips had lingered.
Birthday
Wilhemina carefully lifted the tin out of the oven with one hand, the other clutched desperately at her cane, steadying herself from accident. Stretching up and sliding the cake onto the tabletop, she let a deep breath out, thankful to have been able to complete this baking malarkey without hitch. Needless to say, Wilhemina was not one for such domestic acts, as baking a cake for a loved one or planning a surprise that wasn’t a casual act of viciousness.
The cake looked too simple for Wilhemina’s high standards when she’d prised it out of the tin and onto a plate. It was a very humble cake, which she would have been quite happy with had it just been her birthday; but she needed it to have a little more character since she new how eccentric you could be.
A candle and a small sprig of lavender later, and she nodded proudly to herself. The cake looked exactly as it had done before; only now it had a candle and some lavender perched on top ridiculously. The sight would have made anyone else laugh, but Wilhemina didn’t see the need for excessive decoration when the cake was meant to be the centrepiece. It was, after all, the thing she’d just spent over two hours preparing, and having unnecessary distractions from it was not something she required.
You skipped through from the living room at the sound of her calling for you, stopping still when she shouted “CLOSE YOUR EYES!!” Raising your arms in exasperation and dropping them dramatically at your sides again you stood by the doorframe. “How am I supposed to come in when I can’t see where I’m going” you sassed, arms coming to cross at your chest. Wilhemina scoffed, ignored your lip, instead guiding you forward to sit at the table and settling herself, leaning on the back of the chair opposite.
“Open them.”
As you took in the sight of her with the cake candidly placed in front of you, a warm grin formed on your lips, stretching wider when her lips curled up to match yours in glee. You pictured her swaying in the kitchen to classical music, wrapped in your favourite yellow apron with a dusting of flour on her nose.
“You made this?” you giggled, plucking the lavender out of the cake and smelling it. “Yes. Don’t act so surprised little miss. Want a piece?”
She turned to retrieve a knife and plates and you struggled to bite back a surprised laugh, a small giggle escaping as you did. She stopped and turned at the noise, eyebrow quipped in question as your hands lingered in front of your mouth, grin still firmly in place. “Mina. Turn around.” She slowly did as you asked, the flour print on her butt coming back into your view, a stark contrast from the deep purple skirt.
You couldn’t help the laughter that erupted from you, bending over to clutch at your aching stomach. Wilhemina at first went rigid, hand trying to inconspicuously wipe the flour from her dress when she realised the source of your laughter. Then she took in how your shoulders shook, and you let out a little snort, and she found herself laughing as well, hand on the table for support as you both gasped at each other.
When the laughter had bubbled to nothing, you both sat eating the cake and discussing weekend plans. The cake was vanilla; plain, but so incredibly Wilhemina it made your heart ache with pride at her first edible cake being made for your birthday. “It is not as bad as I had bargained it to be.” She hummed, fork between her teeth as you used yours to pick up crumbs from the plate.
“It was delicious. Thank you for making it for me, I know how you hate to bake.”
Nodding at your compliment, she gathered the plates towards her and pointed towards the front door. “Fetch my bag sweetheart?” she asked, sighing into the back of the chair, watching you rise to do as she asked. While you searched for her bag she clattered the dishes into the sink and retired into the living room, sinking down into the armchair.
“Thank you.” She breathed, taking the bag from your hands and motioning for you to sit at her feet on the carpet. This was a usual position the two of you found yourselves in, your head resting in her lap. Watching her, she pulled out two parcels from her bag, setting them in from of you on her lap.
She’d bought you a pale lilac lacey lingerie set and a desk organiser- always the one for practicality over vanity. Having overheard you complaining about your work desk always being littered with stationary and hazardly strewn papers no matter how many times you’d clear it, she’d taken it upon herself to right the issue.
You weren’t surprised at her observance, as she had the sharpest eye of anyone you knew; but you were touched that she’d taken the time to find items she new you needed and wanted out of her otherwise very busy days.
Wilhemina never liked outward shows of emotion or physical affection in the early stages of your relationship, even in the confides of your private home; so she was thoroughly taken aback when you launched yourself into her. “Thank you Mina, I love them.” You squeezed her tighter, careful to avoid the curve of her spine in your giddy excitement. Overcoming the initial shock, she slowly encased you in her arms, inhaling into your hair that sat just to the side of her face.
“Happy Birthday little one.”
Bonfire night (apologises if this is just a British thing)
“There you go, little one. We can’t have you getting cold now can we?” She tightened the scarf around your neck, fastening it and patting it down, pausing to flash her eyes down your body. You were buried in enough layers to warm the dead, arms poking out at an angle because they couldn’t lie flat. Your flushed face peeked out between hat and scarf, smile fixed on your lips as you watched her fix her own scarf into place, her own outfit lacking the excessive amount of layers she claimed you needed.
You bit back a comment about never being cold again in all this wool as she nuzzled her face into yours. “Lets go!” you squealed, grasping her cane from where it stood, propped against the wall and pushing it into her waiting hands. Wrapping your arm around her waist you opened the door, cold wind pushing into the house, and ushered you both out into the night.
Your town was holding a bonfire night firework display which you’d convinced Mina would be a beautiful thing to watch together. She’d let you know her disdain for the occasion; how it had come about because of an old man wanting to blow up the Houses of Parliament who was consequently put to death. Gruesomely, she added; sparing you none of the details of his demise. She also pointed out the mistakes in the plot that she insisted she would not have made if she’d wanted to do such a thing.
Once you’d guided Mina over the softened grass of the field, careful to prevent her from slipping on the mud of a slight slope, you both settled together near the fence so she could use it for support should she need it. The fireworks started, intrusive bangs and bright light flooding your senses which somehow managed to hold their beauty, despite their obtrusiveness.
You stood in front of her; your back to her chest, her arms wrapped tightly around your waist pulling you against her in the darkness that encased you. Although there was quite a crowd in the field with you for the display, you only felt the presence of your lover behind you. Her warmth seeped through into you, her warm breath on your cheek leaving smoky vapours to curl around your face in the night.
It was cold. But Wilhemina made you warm.
“You see that lilac one there?” pointing skywards at the firework and burying her chin into your shoulder. “They use potassium to get that colour, see?” Another purple firework exploded in front of you, reinforcing her point.
Turning your face towards her, nosing bumping when she didn’t pull away, you gazed at her. Despite her previous opposition for attending the fireworks, you didn’t miss how her eyes glistened when they would pop in the sky, eyelids fluttering as they’d descend in shimmering light through the atmosphere. “I love you.” You confessed, in awe at her knowledge and how she never let you feel unsafe in her presence.
“I love you too my darling. Now, you see that red one up there?”
Christmas
“It’s Christmas” you hummed, craning your neck to pepper Wilhemina with kisses over her closed eyes until they fluttered open and fixed you with a fake annoyed look. “What do you want me to do about that?” she huffed in fake annoyance, batting you away to pull herself out of bed, smoothing the covers down behind you.
In the weeks leading up to Christmas, You and Mina had had many conversations about how Christmas day would go, seen as you were an avid celebrater of the day and she would merely go about her day normally if you’d allow it. Meeting in the middle, you’d agreed upon a cosy and relaxed day at your home; cooking dinner together and wearing matching jumpers.
Okay, so Wilhemina hadn’t exactly agreed to wearing any sort of Christmas attire, never mind matching with you. In fact, she’s been explicitly vocal in her opposition of the idea. Naturally, you’d gone ahead and bought two matching jumpers anyway, knowing she’d cave in with a little persuasion on your part.
“But Mina.” You whines, childishly tugging on her sleeve as she prepped the carrots and potatoes for dinner. “I even toned down my choice, just for you.” She stopped, quirking an eyebrow in question and handing you the peeler to continue while she checked on the turkey. “Well, I was going to buy ones with bells on. But I didn’t! I chose a borringg one just for you.” You pestered, dragging out the sentence and flicking a piece of carrot at her, grinning stupidly.
She finally gave in after you promised to stop mithering her and allow you to cook quietly, the steady thrum of the Christmas music outside washing calm over the both of you, now donned in matching Rudolph jumpers, working in synchronised unison without having to talk. Mina liked it like this, and you were content to sway lightly and hum a quiet carol to yourself.
The dinner you made was absolutely the most beautiful thing you’d experienced with Wilhemina. Both sat in jumpers, walls completely down for the other and simply existing alongside the person you loved most in the world, eating Christmas lunch and laughing. Really laughing. At the corny jokes in the crackers, to the way your paper hat drooped down over your eyes making Mina fawn.
After the dinner you moved seamlessly to the living room, wordlessly content to leave the dishes for later. Resuming the usual position of Wilhemina in the chair and you kneeling at her feet, head in her lap as her nails lightly scraped at your scalp. The gifts under the tree had been moved to allow you to reach them from where you sat, Mina guiding you with a nod about which gift you were to open first.
Wilhemina had provided you with gifts that held hidden meaning behind them, but were more material than she’d usually purchase; for example the earrings you’d fawned over when you shopped together one day that she just couldn’t help but nip back on a lunch break to retrieve. She’d also gotten you her favourite book that you’d yet to read, even after insisting months ago. “Now you’ve no excuse but to read it. It really is an exquisite book Y/n.”
All of her gifts were perfectly wrapped in her signature brown paper and secured with a curled purple ribbon. Setting them under the tree had proved a challenge for the redhead but she’d been insistent that she place them herself when you offered. “No. I purchased these gifts, so I will be the one to arrange them under the tree.”
You had taken a more practical approach to her presents, knowing she was not one for material goods, nor small sentimental items that would be lost or forgotten about in the rush of your lives within a week. You’d clumsily wrapped your gifts in glittery silver wrapping paper which left silver glitter over everything it touched. It made Wilhemina’s nose scrunch up in distaste as she unwrapped them, her hands sparkling in the glow of the light with glitter.
After some arguments with yourself over the best practical gifts for your girlfriend, you’d settled on a deep mauve weighted blanket which could ease her back pain on difficult days and simply be a comfort on others. Accompanying that, you’d bought her some more leather fingerless gloves and another expensive cane with silver piping and a hummingbird engraved deep into the wood of the handle.
She’d gasped when unwrapping the cane, as you did the earrings, at the intricacy of the detail running through them. Lingering kisses and warm touches followed the gift giving, basking in the glow of the fire in the living room where you knelt by her chair, neck craned to meet your lover in a kiss against her soft lips.
Wilhemina had started to ramble again about the ridiculous notions of Christmas, face flushed with the alcohol, face serious as you gazed up from your position of the floor, equally buzzed with inebriation as your counterpart. “The insinuation that St Nicholas can visit ever child’s home in one night is simply-“she faltered, hiccupping and waving an arm for effect, “-is simply just abhorrently, scientifically wrong. I could never entertain the idea.”
“And as for the idea tha-” you silenced her with another kiss, rising from the floor to straddle her lap and press your body against hers. “I love you.” You breathed, head resting in her neck and fingers numbly playing with her loose hair.
You stayed in that position, happy in each other’s embrace as the evening drew on. Fingers tangled lazily within hair and other fingers and shaped were traced on bare skin. Whispered stories of pasts were shared and comfort given when needed, tears wiped by the careful brush of a thumb. Eventually you fell asleep, mind blank and peaceful after the first of many shared Christmas days between you both.
New Years Eve
“You’ve never kissed anyone on New Years Eve before?” you quizzed, cocking your head at the older woman beside you, who crossed her arms across her chest and huffed dramatically.
“I have simply never been in the company of anyone I wished to share such an intimacy with” she chimed back, before softening and smiling down at you, “until you my dear.”
The clock chimed and you smiled up at her, fingers dancing behind her neck as you pulled her down to meet you in a kiss. She relaxed into you and you felt her smile against your lips, hands reaching for your waist to pull you flush against her.
As the chimes faded, you let yourself slip from her embrace, thumb coming up to brush over her swollen lower lip as you blushed. “Happy New Year Mina.” You whispered, head falling to her chest as you wrapped your arms around her in a hug.
Patting your back a few times; still quite unsure about such acts of physical attention, she finally allowed herself to relax. Melting into your body, her chin rested on the top of your head, dipping only to linger a kiss in the hair.
You rush into my life, stay a little while (I know that we can have it all)
Pairing: Billie Dean Howard x fem!Reader x Sally Mckenna
Word Count: 2,7k
Summary: A concert like any other was what joined the musician Sally Mckenna with Billie Dean and her girlfriend Y/N. Even when time passes and domesticity takes over the routine of the three women, Sally still feels that everything she is living with these two women is just another welcome adventure in her life, but her perspective changes, even if silently, after an unexpected gift and she ends up remembering of words said by a fortune teller decades ago.
[gif by @grilledcheeseandguavajelly]
[gif by @julianemilian0]
A/N: Hey @tltl !! I'm your Secret Santa! And I wish you the best for this holiday! I have no idea how things are in Italy, so if the situation is okay, I hope you can spend this holiday with the family you love. I promise I did my best to fulfill your wishes, and I honestly hope you like it!! Stay safe, and if you ever need a friend and feel comfortable with me, I'm here!
Warnings: I honestly believe that there is nothing that will trigger someone, but I think it's cool to warn that this is like an AU since Sally can leave the Hotel (even because she doesn't live in one) and she is absolutely NOT dead... and their relationship starts before Billie gets her television show.
Enjoy it!
When Sally’s younger self accepted a fortune teller's invitation for an experience with her, she expected nothing. Even in her teenage years, everyone in the town where she lived knew that the thing Sally wanted the most was to be a singer in the future, and even looking at the thought-provoking and incredibly flashy sign shining in shades of purple and gold, the phrase “I can tell you the greatest truth about you deeper desire”, the blonde one had some suspicious guesses about what she would hear.
Perhaps some absurd about an authorial song that would be heard on a world scale, or about a featuring with some world-renowned artists — just raw ideas that would momentarily cheer up her small, young, and a little pessimistic heart — but nothing was even close to what she received.
You will only find the love you want and wait for — intense, lifelong, and reciprocal — when you stop believing in its existence.
The blonde girl in the printed coat remembers cursing the lady before leaving the place without paying her, but the fortune teller did not seem to care and did not try to stop the teenager from escaping, and perhaps that made Sally's perception of the situation even vaguer.
She remembers thinking while she was going home with some friends, that maybe the city was too small and that was why the enigmatic woman had discovered about her recent breakup. She loved the bastard but after discovering that the boy who lived in her heart without worries was cheating her with a girl from the local religious choir, even with tears in her eyes, it was over.
The thought made sense at the time.
A teenager looking for love.
But time passed and she became an adult woman looking for love.
Sally doesn't know why she was graced by such a specific memory now, with Y/N's arms around her waist and her head lying in Billie's collarbone, who even just about to fall asleep, was still pressing her against Sally’s naked one.
It was a particularly pleasant and absolutely surprising arrangement.
In a particularly exhausting show, in which she also expected nothing from, Sally saw the two women in the audience. They seemed in love, always exchanging honest touches and sweet smiles, but even in all that passionate aura, the two pairs of eyes were always fixed on Sally.
The concert contracts offered to Sally was starting to grow significantly, as much as the price she received for each performance, as well as the size of the places that hired her, so she was rarely in the same stage two weeks in a row.
And something in her heart was happy about it.
Her social media were doing well with likes as followers growing each day, her covers had a nice number of views on digital platforms. And, more importantly, she finally stopped performing only in depressing bars — in addition to getting an audience that really paid attention to what comes out of her lips or the harmonies of her guitar — and this was very good, much more than she believed she could achieve in her early teenage days, but still, something inside Sally would like to see that couple again.
But in the following week, regardless of which bar the musician was playing in, they were there. And in the next one too. And the next one.
Only in the fifth week did one of them bought her a drink.
Y/N.
Her expression was sweet and bright, and every time she flicked her eyelashes, something inside Sally lit up. She looked a little uncertain, but still took a spare napkin and, taking a pen out of her bag, started writing on the paper.
The musician took advantage of the moment, traveling her own gaze at the pleasant woman beside her and silently wishing to use her fingers to make sure her hair is as soft as it looked, and if she smelled as good up close as it looks from a distance.
But something was wrong, especially because Y/N was alone. And even without planning to do so, Sally's focus was distracted with everything around her, looking for the owner of the blond hair who always accompanied the one beside her, and a forced breath escaped through her nose angrily and accidentally when she noticed that her search as unsuccessful since the blonde was not there. However, when a subtle introduction of herself jumped out of Y/N's tongue, and a sweet smile was directed at her... that was enough for Sally to smile back at her as she started a pleasant conversation.
Within minutes, when their cocktail party was almost over, Y/N made it clear what she intended by sharing a bar counter with the blonde musician, and Sally felt intoxicated. She always knew it was impossible for anyone not to feel intoxicated by a beautiful woman, especially when the words that slipped from her lips were so inviting, but that sounded like it was coming from another planet.
“You performed very well on stage. A true artist. No one in the audience could take their eyes off you.”, Y/N's voice was happy and loud because a new musician was performing on the stage. She was trying hard not to have her sentence drowned out by his voice, and Sally could only smile and get in her game.
"Interesting. Especially for someone who has heard me sing so many times.”, even with the dark, bluish light painting the entire surface of the entire bar, Sally was pretty sure she saw Y/N's cheeks flush.
“Oh... So... You saw us?”
No verbal response was made by the musician, she just shook her head positively before taking another sip of her own drink, patiently waiting for what Y/N would say next.
“I like to hear talented people.”, The phrase escapes her lips like nothing, and how genuine her voice sounds makes Sally's shoulders a little less tense, “And Billie believes that you have a beautiful face and talented hands. I told her that we only saw you play the guitar so we couldn't jump to conclusions.”
“I don’t know her, but I think Billie is quite a perception person, and I already like her.”, at the moment the words slip through Sally's tongue, she knew that she said something good because Y/N was smiling at her like if she was some huge and shiny toy she just won in some tough game at an amusement park.
"Billie and I would like to get to know you better... But if you are not interested in our arrangement, just know that we will continue to watch you because... you have so much talent, not because we are stalkers."
"Thank you... So, if Billie is also so interested as you said, why she is not here drinking with us?", Sally's voice sounded like all of her flirtations ones, answering the compliment with a sweet voice and asking the question with a dripping malicious amid curiosity, as she looked at the napkin Y / N had given her.
Two names and two phone numbers, but the blonde one just wanted to make sure it wasn't some kind of joke.
Some lost bet.
Some stolen kiss and a sinful night while the partner isn't looking.
"She's smoking outside, but believe me... Billie will be here in just a moment."
And, as if she knew she had been mentioned, the blonde one in question appears at the front door and walks towards the two women at the counter as if she owns the place. If the look wasn't enough to show Sally that Y/N wasn't kidding, the blonde woman's lack of subtlety in sliding her right hand over Sally's shoulder before sitting next to Y/N would show Sally that yes, she was interested too.
Billie Dean.
With her formal clothes and her sagacious desire for a television program. She was not like Y/N, stepping on eggs and sighing deeply before starting a conversation with a stranger she found attractive. Billie was quite the opposite. She knew exactly what she wanted and, when Sally accepted the invite to go on an actual date with the couple, the musician found that everything reflected in those brown eyes was pure malice, even if she was immersed in unexpected grace.
Unexpected.
And almost unexpectedly, Sally fell in love with the two women.
Unexpected loves were what ruled the life of the woman in printed clothes, but all with an expiration date. Her last love disappointment - with a tall and clear-eyed man that she forced herself for months to forget her name - was enough for the musician to stop believing in something good and permanent showing up.
So she let it go and forced herself to learn how to just take advantage of the incredible people who were going through her life for the time they here in her life.
But since Sally first laid eyes on that couple, while her fingers echoed the melody of her songs in a bar she had long since gone to, they have not stopped to surprise her.
Y/N and her apartment in pastel colors, which was the first place belonging to the couple that Sally met, almost 6 months ago. The apartment that nowadays was always full of Sally's grocery shopping. It happened in the second month when the three women went to the musician's house in search of a bottled sauce that was missing at Y/N's house for dinner, and when they stopped in a red traffic light, the suggestion flew between Billie Dean's lips automatically.
"You could just take things you like to eat at Y/N's apartment... So we would make sure that nothing you like is missing."
When the silence became thick inside the car, the medium lost the focus of her cell phone, focusing her eyes on Sally and Y/N, who was driving the car, to explain her thoughts, and so she received two heads producing affirmative nods and smiling before returning to the usual silence. After all, it is more practical for everyone to leave their groceries at the home of the person who cooked the most in the arrangement.
Two months later, Sally simply thought that bringing any groceries back to her home when she rarely spent any time there was senseless.
And that was new.
Different. Amazing. And new.
Because of all the things Sally didn't expect, the one at the top of the list was being silently presented with a new place to call home. Or rather, two new places.
Whenever Sally imagined a place that would be like her second home, her mind automatically painted the image of a studio. Large, with a few instruments, a matte wallpaper, and shiny pictures hanging on the walls. Everything in addition to a table full of paper with letters being finished.
But the present proved to be more and more surprising every day, mainly because the musician knows that she probably has more clothes in Billie Dean's house than in her own wardrobe. She also knows that her guitar and unfinished rhymes rest in the western part of Billie's office, next to the window.
It was good. New. Passionate.
But it probably has an expiration date. And for the first time, Sally believes she's okay with that.
She doesn't know why she thinks about it, and especially at that moment where the two women who live in her mind are lying and almost asleep in her arms, but still, she does.
Because she loves the simple and unique moments when she receives more affection and adoration than she imagined in a lifetime. Like when Y/N caress her hair absently after work while when she is laying down in her lap, looking for words that rhyme with the verses Sally writes. Or when Billie arrives tired of the recording studio, feeling that her energies are almost consumed and still gives her the most beautiful of all smiles when she readily accepts the musician's arms in a hug.
But her bubble of memories bursts when Billie starts to move, and then Sally needs to move away and consequently move away Y/N so that the older blonde can get up. And she does, but not before giving them an explanation.
"I forgot something, I bought it for you."
You.
It's a dangerous word, especially in their arrangement, which is why Sally remains silent as she watches Billie stagger towards the bag she used today. She is naked, with the marks of the dark lipstick that Sally's kisses painted on her legs, but the medium doesn't mind and absently rummages in her purse before, after just a few seconds, grabs a relatively large and thin velvet box in her hand, and goes back to the mattress.
Y/N is still rubbing her face, trying to dissipate the sleep that had almost taken the best of her, just to try to give Billie all of her attention, and the image is lovely even amid the marks of Sally's lipstick staining her neck. But the musician continues lying down, enjoying the view of Billie's body in front of her without even moving a muscle, until the medium opens the box and the contents of it are seen.
It is a set of jewels.
A pair of earrings and two more pieces that Sally can't quite see what they are because she doesn't catch her eye on the box. And the musician only knows that the first ones are earrings because Billie gently moves Y/N's hair out of the way before placing the jewelry gently on her ears.
It is beautiful, in gold and with only a small and delicate emerald.
A part of Sally is enchanted by Y/N's sweet smile while she thanks for the gift - which she now wears proudly - with a subtle kiss, but another part of her being almost forgotten would like the two to do it privately.
Because Sally knows that this happens - those sweet, domestic moments full of gentle kisses and loving touches that are shared only between the two woman - but since the arrangement between the three started seven months ago, the musician has never seen one of these moments and, a part of her just look away.
But fast enough, Billie has two fingers on Sally's chin, gently lifting her face until her brown eyes focus. But this intense exchange of looks quickly comes to an end, because the medium smiles and moves away, bringing the musician's line of sight into a necklace.
"I know you like your dark chokers, especially the one with the silver pendant that Y/N bought you." Billie's voice is sweet and smiling as she opens the necklace clasp.
Sally remains silent almost without blinking, like a deer caught by a car's headlights while trying to cross a highway, but everything becomes softer and easier to understand when S/N takes her hand and squeezes it while Billie continues to talk.
"So I looked for a set that had a necklace with a long, loose chain, even with a small stone because honestly, the rings with larger emerald stones were just dreadful...", at that moment the medium closed her eyes and for just one second she has a disgusted expression on her face as if the small mention of the jewels she didn’t like was something powerful enough to make her sick, but then her eyes open and her cheeks are painted a light pink before she continues, in a more whispery voice, "So you can use the necklace and your choker together."
Sally feels her body move in automatic as she sits on the bed and lets the medium put the necklace around her neck, and then Billie's lips are on hers in the sweetest way the musician has ever felt and for a second she feels tears starting to form in her eyes. But Sally doesn't spill them, she just smiles. And then she feels Billie smiling against her lips too before the medium moves away and finally puts a delicate ring with a small emerald on her own ring finger.
They don't say anything. There are no thank you, or questions about any motivation. Just incessant smiles as the three of them lie back between the covers in silence.
Sally believes that in a few hours her face will be in pain from smiling too much, but the musician hardly cares, because for the first time in almost twenty years she wants to go back in time and pay that fortune teller.
@vintagegoddess12 Happy Holidays Secret Santa! I hope you love it <3
Cordelia settled herself on the hospital bed, her usual stoic confidence replaced with worry, fear and excitement all rolled into one. Y/N covered her and fluffed her pillows before sitting at attention beside her wife. She was cool, calm and collected for her Cordelia...inside she was wreck. Cordelia offered her lover a smile before another contraction ripped through her. "jesussss christ theyre getting stronger" Cordelia nervous laughed taking in her surroundings. Its not common that the reigning Supreme gets nervous but here she wasn't the true paramount supreme of witches, today she was a vulnerable pregnant woman about to become a mother. A role she had worn with ease over the last 9 months making her wife fall deeper in love with her every single day. But today was the culmination of those long months and the many years of trying and failing even before meeting the woman who would become her wife.
Y/N relaxed into her chair, the doctor indicating we were in for a long wait as Delia was only 2cm along. They clicked on the tv and settled into comfortable silence while they waited for the pizza Cordelia begged they order to the hospital--her only true craving. She was in early labor and they had read enough books to know her window of opportunity to eat was dwindling. Cordelia sat in comfortable silence while the induction meds were hooked up. Their baby had a mind of their own and was just too comfy to move and was going on almost 2 weeks late resulting in a planned induction. Her mind wandered to her mother and how she must have felt at this moment, on the precipise of becoming a mother, all alone. She was beyond grateful for someone at her side but for that person to be the love of her life, to be as amazing as Y/N is, well...she just thought herself to be the luckiest person alive. Despite the old wounds Fiona inflicted over the years Cordelia missed her mother and grieved for the missed opportunity to see her become a grandmother and love this little being more than she could have loved her. But she wasn't. Fiona was gone, she was the supreme now. She had to carry on and carry on she did. She took on that oath to Supremacy more than any other; determined to be the opposite of Fiona. She took her position so seriously that she almost lost a chance at a life for herself initially rebuking any of Y/N advances and ignoring any feelings for her until she lost her and fought hard for her return. She'd never forget that lesson. She swore on her soul she would never let Y/N go another moment not knowing how in love she was with her. She smiled at the thoughts of their young life together and all to come; absentmindedly tracing circles on her wife’s hand who has not let go of yours in hours. You give it a squeeze and smile at her.
"What?" Y/N laughs
"Nothing....im just thinking about how lucky i am to have found you. And how excited I am for the rest of our lives," Cordelia replies, a hint of a tear threatening to fall.
"I'm the lucky one Delia. I love you so much" Y/N replies, squeezing her hand and tucking the hair behind her ear.
A phone interrupts their tender moment, "Must be the pizza!" Y/N exclaims, standing up and kissing her wife once and then again for good measure before getting a wink and heading off to retrieve the pizza. Cordelia leaned back checking her phone for any signs of issues back at the academy but was instead met with texts of encouragement and congratulations. Myrtle had been noticeably silent--she had moved back to the academy and took over as head mistress so Delia and Y/N could make a home for themselves and a life outside of the academy. Her and Delia talked every day or at least every other as their surrogate mother/daughter relationship only became stronger over the years. She treated Y/N like a daughter in law which is why its been so strange to Cordelia that her Auntie Myrtle had now been silent for about two days before the induction.
They ate pizza in comfortable silence and even polished off a few episodes of the crown Y/N cleverly saved on her ipad. The pain had progressed now and she was no longer comfortable.
The doctor came in and did another check--fully dilated and ready to go. Cordelia grabbed her wifes hand and squeezed out of sheer fear of the next step. Her wife, fully in control, guiding her every move and thought. Strong and fearless--what Cordelia loves most about her. What her patients must think about her she muses constantly in awe of her wife. "This is it D--we're about to become parents!" Cordelia musters whatever strength she can to begin pushing while her wife never loses contact with her--coaching her and telling her how amazing she's doing.
"ahhhhhhhhhhhh why isn't this easier I'm the fucking supremeeeeee" she wailed, pushing with all her might
"I know darlin, you're so strong. So so strong. Come on look at me, look at me and push."
Cordelia digs deep and musters any fight she has towards one final push before she collapses on her back to the music of baby cries. She cries herself, overcome with emotion, while Y/N kisses her wet hair and never lets their hands part. Cordelia wanted Y/N to be the one to announce the gender so she shaking looked over and cried to her wife, "Its a boy, Delia. We have a son"They place the bloody baby on her bare chest and she sobs at the sight of him. "Oh my god, he's beautiful. He's beautiful Y/N"
"You did it baby, that's our son. I'm so so proud of you" Y/N gushes
They take him to clean him off and check him out. "Is the baby ok?" Delia asks already feeling the emptiness of her arms waiting for her little one. "Your son is healthy and beautiful Mrs. Goode" as they hand this little pink fella back to his moms handing him to Y/N this time. She looks down on him and smiles, "Hi my boy. I'm your mom" and tearfully laughs towards her wife. Cordelia's chest aches at the sight--the love of her life holding the little life they created. Pure bliss no amount of magic could ever compete with. Y/N handed their son back to Cordelia who held him close to her skin and kissed his tiny head, smelling the newborn magic already.
A red headed firestorm burst through the doors, "Did I miss it?!?!" Myrtle exclaimed, bursting into the room and stopping dead at the sight before her. "Oh my dear daughter, it seems I'm just in time. Tell me--do I have a grandson or granddaughter?" she asked, arms clasped and tears in her eyes. "Oh my god myrtle," she cried, "you came?!" "Why of course I did dear, my only daughter was having my first grandchild. Nothing could have stopped me plus your darling wife here ensured I make it." she said motioning to Y/N who now walked over to Myrtle and wrap her in a hug bringing her over to Cordelia. Cordelia mouthed her love to Y/N for just knowing her so well that having Myrtle be there would be significant. Cordelia hands her the child and she cradles him whispering a spell of protection over him. "He's simply stunning ladies. Well done." she cooed. Delia leaned back into her wife’s arms, content that her entire world was complete. She noticed the clock--”Its after midnight baby--Merry Christmas.”
The second annual Sarah Paulson Secret Santa is officially here!!
In an effort to thank all of you wonderful creators in the Sarah Paulson fandom (is fandom the right word?) who have shown me unbelievable kindness and support -- and because last year’s Secret Santa was such a success -- I thought it would be fun to spread a little bit of extra cheer and do it again!!
If you are a content creator of any kind, I hope you can join! *Note: your gift does not have to be holiday themed.
To Join:
Reblog this post to spread the word!
Read the about page and the rules
Submit your entry!
Entries will close on December 4th and you will be assigned your giftee on December 5th.
For the sake of this event, a content creator is anyone who creates fic, gifs, graphics (moodboards, edits, etc.), or art. If you create content different from what is listed and would like to join the event, please message me!
