#idk y’all need to thank me for this I’m going to hell jaoifjoiajfeaif
Text
Dinner & Diatribes (Part 1)
youtube
Summary: Cordelia arrives at Outpost 3 to take care of some loose ends, but during that time, she finds herself attracted to Ms. Wilhemina Venable. However, Wilhemina doesn’t seem to return her feelings—she detests Cordelia, in fact. They try to go their separate ways, but a fateful evening encounter leaves them both wanting more.
A/N: I have not watched Season 8, so I messed around with the plot! All the witches are alive in this (besides the witches Michael brought back). Also, thanks to the wonderful @shineestark for clarifying the plot and for motivating me! There is some smut in this, so be warned! I’m just here spreading the #LetWilheminaBottom Gospel! Anyway, this is just my chance for me to write some enemies-to-lovers, so enjoy !
---
“More than anything I was relieved that in my unfamiliar babbling-and-wanting-to-talk state I'd stopped myself from blurting the thing I'd never said, even though it was something we both knew well enough without me saying out loud to him in the street - which was, of course, I love you.” — The Goldfinch, Donna Tartt.
---
It was a shame men were so egotistic, Cordelia mused as she transmuted herself back to the Outpost she had gotten so accustomed to. If the Hawthorne School for Exceptional Young Men hadn’t insisted on Michael taking the test of the Seven Wonders—if Michael didn’t even exist—things would’ve been so much easier. Now here she was, ready to administer the test to a boy with a beautiful smile but threatening eyes who could possibly be the first male Supreme.
The Supreme.
The title brings no joy. Instead of a certain dark relish that was familiar to her mother, all Cordelia feels is a quiet bind to duty. She has to be the flawless figurehead of the coven; any other choice would bring shame to her girls, not to mention herself.
Now, seeing what the Supremacy has given her (nothing but death), there was no reason to celebrate such a vain title without acknowledging the end of the road. But death is nothing to be scared of. Not anymore.
Death, duty, and a fierce love for her girls makes the Supremecy worth it. After the war has ended, and the dust has settled, what is left for her?
Enough of that. Cordelia straightens her shoulders as she strides into a room where Michael and his mentors wait. Cordelia is flanked by Myrtle and Zoe, but God, if she doesn’t feel alone at this moment. “Are we ready to begin, gentlemen?”
“Why, of course.” Michael smiles at her. Chills creep up her spine. “Shall I pick up any more of your friends?”
Cordelia ignores his not-so-subtle jab about her failures. “Whenever you’re ready.” In another world, there would be no need for him to even ask such a question, but then again, she wouldn’t be the Supreme. Her heart clenches again—pain is all she seems to feel lately—but the sound of a door banging open drags her out of her thoughts.
“What is the meaning of this?” Cordelia should have been accustomed to the shock of seeing an eyeful of purple, yet she still smirks when Wilhemina catches everyone’s attention. “I asked a question, and I demand an answer.”
Cordelia doesn’t have eyes in the back of her head, but she can practically see the warlocks exchange glances. And of course, it falls on her to be the bearer of bad news. “May I speak to you outside, Miss Venable?”
She sniffs before leading the way out of the room. “You may.”
Outside, a couple of greys are milling around, but with a pointed glare, Wilhemina sends them scrambling away. Cordelia can’t help but be impressed by the effectiveness of Wilhemina’s methods to rule, even though they are vastly different from hers. But opposites attract, do they not?
“Must I ask again? I would hate to think you have the same lowly behaviorisms as the rest of the imbeciles in the room, but then again, I wouldn’t be surprised.”
Cordelia arches her eyebrow, not sure if she was amused by her sharp tongue, or irritated because of her rudeness. Both, perhaps. A mixture of both. “My apologies for intruding on your territory, Miss Venable, but there is a test I need to administrate to Mr. Langdon. It is convenient for everyone to gather here.”
Wilhemina’s lips press together. “Yes, how convenient to give me no explanation of how you got here and to leave me out of the loop. One might think you teleported here, but that is impossible, of course.”
It takes all of Cordelia’s self-control not to smile.
Perhaps Wilhemina notices this, for she takes a step closer and glowers at Cordelia. All she does in response is allow part of a smirk onto her face, purposefully stepping into Wilhemina’s personal space. The other woman makes no attempt to move away, but her hands tighten around the head of her cane. Wilhemina is the taller of the two (but they are quite similar in height) and when she leans down, Cordelia has to stop herself from staring at the strong flex of her neck, the gentle curve into her jawline.
“If you cause any trouble, I will not hesitate to toss you out into the radiation myself. Do I make myself clear?”
“Crystal.” Cordelia smirks fully this time, noting that it only serves to enrage Wilhemina more.
They are close enough to kiss.
That thought makes something, something flare in Cordelia’s eyes, perhaps a dark pleasure, but whatever it is, it forces Wilhemina to swallow and turn on her heel.
“Good evening, Miss Venable!” Cordelia can’t help but call after her. No response follows. She stares at Wilhemina’s retreating back, feeling the tension between them simmer and hover before quietly wilting away, just waiting for another chance to be rekindled again. Caution should be used, but still ... how fun.
---
A week ago, Michael passed the test of Seven Wonders. Cordelia has spent much of that time in her guest chambers, where the bed is too springy and the room is too cold for her liking. Still, anything is better than walking into the warlocks’ smug faces and the little taunts from Michael. It’s hard to believe he’s the next Supreme—not because she wants to keep her power, but because there is something off about him.
Cordelia spends most of her time with her Council, planning, or arguing rather, over their next moves. Myrtle is the strongest voice against letting Michael be the Supreme. “Oh, little bird, I’m sure he has evil down to his little toe! We can’t let him be the next Supreme; we’ll all die!”
Surprisingly, Mallory had agreed with Myrtle. Actually, everyone else except Cordelia had firmly said that Michael was not fit to rule. She had shaken her head and mentioned Fiona, how she would rather die than end up like her. That had quieted them before her girls shuffled out the room. “I do hope you know what you’re doing,” was all Myrtle said before left.
Honestly? She had no idea.
A growl from her stomach makes Cordelia realize it’s time for dinner. She couldn’t stay hibernated in her room forever, and she has to face Michael at some point. With a deep exhale, she squares her shoulders and heads to the dining hall. It is her duty, after all.
Cordelia is the last to arrive by the looks of the taken seats and the weight of many eyes swiveling to her. She simply nods and smiles which stiffens slightly when she sees the only available seat. The seat at the head of the table, on Wilhemina’s left. Fantastic.
Wilhemina looks bored with the whispers that follow Cordelia and her coven, but when she approaches her, a glint shines in her eyes. “Good evening, Miss Goode. I see you’re finally ready to come out of hiding.”
Cordelia keeps her smile polite as she sits down, her arm barely brushing with Wilhemina’s. “And I see your vision isn’t entirely clear. What a shame, I was quite looking forward to getting to know you, but I presume you can’t tell me much about my appearance, hmm?”
It’s a low blow to toss Wilhemina’s ignorance right back in her face, but judging by the way she gripped her fork, it certainly works. Or, it partly did. “What I can tell you about your deceiving appearance is that you are a crooked enigma, an entitled, arrogant, rude, high-and-mighty failure as a leader with the worst fashion sense and hairdo I have ever seen!” She hisses the words out, and there is no amusement in them. Just pure anger.
For a moment, Cordelia opens her mouth, ready to start a full-out brawl. There is white-hot anger simmering in her veins at the job to her leadership, something she always prided herself on. She would die for her coven, her girls at the drop of a word. Yes, she led them to the end of the world, but god damn if she wasn’t going to get them out of it.
Cordelia manages to smirk, tempering down her anger with a comment she knew would frustrate Wilhemina even more. “I could say—and I do see—the same for you, Miss Venable.”
The pits of Wilhemina’s eyes are black, blazing like coals. A shiver rises up in Cordelia, but before she can move, Wilhemina bangs her cane on the ground and stands up in one fluid motion, looking down on Cordelia. Literally. “Miss Goode, I want you outside. Now.”
“Well, since you asked so politely.” Sarcasm colours Cordelia’s voice as she tries to ignore the chills running through her body at Wilhemina’s strict tone. Just when she thinks she has her all figured out, Cordelia always manages to be surprised. Perhaps that’s part of dear Wilhemina’s charm.
She doesn’t have time to ponder her sudden familiarity, as Wilhemina turns and take a long stride toward Cordelia when they are in a private hallway. The furious look is back in her eyes, and she pushes a finger into Cordelia’s shoulder. “You! You are such a pest in my outpost! Everywhere I turn, you are there, whispering and planning. Tell me, what are you planning? I know it involves the men”—she says this in such a disgusted tone—“but any ideas fail me! Tell me, or I’ll toss you outside right this instant!”
Her voice is low, but it quickly becomes louder and sharper as she progresses with her rant. Cordelia feels bad for Wilhemina, she really does, but she can’t say anything that would make sense. Supremes, magic, and teleportation. All things a lunatic would say.
“Well?” Wilhemina thumps her cane, glaring at Cordelia. “Are you going to answer me, Miss Goode?”
“No. I won’t.” Cordelia lifts her chin, wanting to savor the sweet taste of defiance, and instead running various excuses through her mind. How could she get out of this problem now?
Wilhemina growls and this is it, this is the moment that Cordelia will have to use her magic or restrain her, except—
Wilhemina presses their lips together, capturing Cordelia’s bottom lip into her mouth a moment later. It takes a hard bite for Cordelia to kiss back, teeth clashing together in the midst of their furious battle. She manages to back Wilhemina up until she’s against the wall, and even though her mind is clouded with lust, she keeps her hands behind Wilhemina’s back so she doesn’t slam into the cold wall.
She flinches at Cordelia’s wandering hands and breaks apart to put her hands on Cordelia’s shoulders. She thinks Wilhemina is going to push her away, but she pulls closer until their bodies are pressed together, not even a sliver of an inch left.
“Take my jacket off,” Wilhemina mumbles in between kisses. Cordelia manages to bring her half-lidded eyes up to Wilhemina, questioning without words. Are you sure?
“Well, are you going to make yourself useful for once, or I will have to do it?” Her arrogant tone is back, and Cordelia tugs sharply at her neat jacket until the buttons are spilling off, rolling away on the floor.
“That was my favourite jacket, you idiot—”
“Shut up.” This, Cordelia hisses out as a desire to leave Wilhemina wordless, gasping for words consumes her. She doesn’t bother to remove her belt—only shoves it up—and sticks a hand down her skirt, into her underwear.
They both gasp at how wet Wilhemina is. “Christ, Wilhemina, you’re practically dripping.” A bit of pride enters Cordelia’s voice, enough for her to almost forget that she’s just as aroused as Wilhemina.
“Did I—” She let outs a gasp when Cordelia ever-so-slowly inserts her pointer finger inside her. Already, Wilhemina is clenching around her finger, and Cordelia lowly chuckles, lowering her mouth to her neck. “Did you say something, darlin’?”
“Did I ... give you permission to address me by my first name?” Wilhemina shakily exhales when Cordelia scraps her teeth on her jawline. She weaves her hands into Cordelia’s hair, tugging when she feels teeth biting down the same spot.
“Mmm, I think you did when you kissed me and told me to undress you.”
“It was hardly undressing, just taking my jacket off. Just ... shut up and fuck me already, Miss Goode.”
Cordelia chuckles and focuses her attention on Wilhemina’s lovely neck. She leaves a few kisses before she bites, leaving a large hickey. “Say please.”
Wilhemina bites down on her lips to try to stop herself from making noise. Cordelia tsks and gives a sharp thrust with her finger. “I wanna hear you. At least say my name.”
A cry manages to escape Wilhemina’s lips, loud enough for someone passing to hear. The thought only spurs Cordelia on, and she thrusts again. “Say it, Wilhemina. Say my name.”
Wilhemina’s voice catches when she moans, “Cordelia, fuck me.”
Cordelia smirks and keeps her hands still. “Say please.”
“Fuck! Cordelia, please, please fuck me!” She pulls on Cordelia’s hair again, trying to move her hips to gain friction.
Cordelia chuckles, thriving on how easily Wilhemina is bending to her orders. “Isn’t ‘fuck’ such a coarse word, my dear?” she asks while slowly pumping her finger in and out of Wilhemina.
“What ... what else do you think we’re doing? We’re not making love,” Wilhemina spits that out with scorn, her eyes glinting the exact time Cordelia deflates a little. “I hate you, Cordelia. Get that in your mind. This is a fuck because I want it, not some love idiocy. It’s too bad that’s what you thought because you were doing so well—”
“Be quiet.” Cordelia growls, fury filling her because yes, that’s exactly what she thought, that Wilhemina has some feelings for her and she’s too stubborn to admit it because fuck, Cordelia likes her. Really likes her.
“Make me.”
And she does. Cordelia pushes in another finger, and Wilhemina takes it incredibly well if the wetness dripping onto Cordelia’s fingers is any indication. Cordelia starts thrusting fast, reveling in the obscene squelching sound her two fingers make.
“I-I’m close.” Wilhemina’s earlier arrogance is gone, replaced by a wild want of a release. “Don’t stop.”
“Oh, I should. I should get you back for being so horrible to me. I should stop you right here, on the edge of your climax, and make you beg again for me. Look at you, riding my fingers, dear Wilhemina, so needy and wet. I won’t, though because I—”
Wilhemina cuts her off with a desperate kiss, and Cordelia barely manages to catch the look in her eyes. It’s apprehension, it’s desire, it’s something like guilt, or perhaps it’s a combination of the three.
Their kiss is open-mouthed, and Cordelia tastes dark cherries—is it Wilhemina’s lipstick or hot breath? She’s not sure; she’s completely swept up in the feeling of Wilhemina jerking against her fingers and the load of wetness that drenches Cordelia’s hand. Wilhemina manages to muffle her moan into Cordelia’s mouth, but there is no hiding the way she claws at Cordelia, tugging her even closer than they are.
Perhaps them breathing together is the most intimate part of all this. Their chests heave at the same time, and every time they gasp or moan or grunt, they are literally breathing into each other’s lungs. If Cordelia can concentrate, she can almost feel a part of Wilhemina’s soul flying into her heart through their connected mouths. She’s not sure if it’s magic, but it is heaven and hell at the same time.
They part slowly, lips first. Wilhemina, her lipstick smudged, drags her eyes open, and the delicate shyness there steals Cordelia’s heart away. “Why ... how could ...” She trails off, and Cordelia busies herself with fixing Wilhemina’s belt, combing back some stray hairs, and smoothing down her skirt. She keeps her touch light and gentle as she cups Wilhemina’s cheek, smiling gently at her. “Would you be alright if I went to go grab your cane, darling?”
At her nod of agreement, Cordelia takes two steps to where Wilhemina’s cane rolled away in their ... actions and picks it up, covering Wilhemina’s hands with hers over the head of it. The warmth of her hands hopefully soaks into Wilhemina’s as they stand quietly, simply looking into each other’s eyes. Her customary awareness bleeds back in Wilhemina’s eyes, and Cordelia wishes that the unguardedness she saw—the bashful delight—makes a home there, someplace else from Cordelia’s heart.
Wilhemina is the first to break the silence. “Don’t you have dinner to go to? Or shall we stand here tenderly and gaze?”
Cordelia chuckles. Her anger from before melts away at a simple jibe, and she smiles. “I certainly have ... satisfied my appetite, my dear. I certainly don’t mind during the latter though.”
To her delight, a blush blooms on Wilhemina’s cheeks. Though she is the epitome of prim and proper once again, ignoring her appearance, the afterglow effects seem to be working in Cordelia’s favour. “Yes, well, I. I must return to see if the miscreants are revolting in my absence. Will you be joining me?”
She shakes her head no, the call of silence and thought about their evening together too strong to resist. (Though, it’s not as if she would do any thinking besides the feeling of Wilhemina’s skin.)
“Ah. Good evening, then, Miss Goode.” Wilhemina looks vaguely disappointed a moment before turning to leave for the dining hall.
“Wilhemina,” Cordelia calls softly after her.
She stops and does not turn around, merely moving her head an inch to the right. Cordelia wishes she would turn around to meet her gaze that says everything her mouth doesn’t. “I look forward to seeing you tomorrow at dinner again,” is what comes out.
Wilhemina nods and continues on without a word. The words that linger with Cordelia are “I hate you”, uttered by the same woman who rips Cordelia to shreds carelessly with her words, yet allows her to piece herself back together with her touch.
I hate you.
Somehow, Cordelia doesn’t believe that at all.
Tag List: @shineestark, @marilynroselleprentiss
#so where did “I don’t write smut” go hmm#idk y’all need to thank me for this I’m going to hell jaoifjoiajfeaif#cordelia goode x wilhemina venable#cordelia goode#ahs cordelia goode#wilhemina venable#apocalypse#ahs imagine#ahs fic#ahs apocalypse#american horror story#sarah paulson#ahs#ahs sarah paulson#not sfw#coven
135 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
