sarah paulson one shots

young and beautiful- cordelia goode

requested by favoriteredhead on tumblr: I would love if you could write something about billie or delia? Maybe them being jealous or insecure. Just some angst/comfort with happy ending. But you don't have to write that. I would just love something fluff with delia or billie if that's possible. <3

warnings: none

word count: 1454

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Cordelia Goode was not the type of woman that you would perceive to be jealous. She was protective, sure, perhaps even overprotective. But someone could not look at her and call her a jealous woman. Nevertheless, she proved them all wrong. Or, particularly you.

It was a night out. A date. A dinner date.

Cordelia had been locked in her office the entire week, bombarded with calls from the warlocks, applications from girls and women who believe they have special abilities. She was stressed. Is stressed.

She needed you; her stress relief.

She needed to see your smile, and the crinkle of your nose when you do so. She wanted to hear all about your day over her favorite dish and forget about the pains from her head to her legs due to slouching and stressing over her desk all week.

"I missed this Delia. I haven't seen that smile all week, my love. You need to start giving yourself a break," You said, eventually concluding the dinner but not yet the evening you would have with her.

"I know, I know. I missed you too, honey. But it's just been—"

"And here's your check," The waiter, who had been staring at you the entire dinner, interrupted Cordelia. It made you extremely furious; the way he winked at you and spoke as if your girlfriend wasn't even in front of you. But there was no need or use to go off of him.

"My phone numbers on the check. Don't be shy, baby," he said, sensually. And then he walked off. He was lucky; he would've seen your dinner come back up if he said another word.

You turned to Cordelia, expecting to laugh it off with her. It was always hilarious to the both of you. When men would flirt; because it was quite obvious that neither of you were interested. Yet they never seemed to catch on.

But Cordelia didn't laugh, didn't grin, or even smirk. She didn't look too pleased, to say the least. Wouldn't even look at you. "Delia, what's wrong?" You reached your hand across the table, but she pulled hers away before flesh could touch.

"Delia?," you asked once more, however, your voice only came out as a mere whisper.

"Just— Let's go." She placed some cash onto the table. You always argued who was paying, but this time, you were honestly too afraid to even speak.

She got up and left without even waiting for you. Eventually you caught up right as she got into the drivers seat of the car. She slammed her door to convey her anger.

You gave her time to cool off in the silence as she drove, and then you finally spoke once she parked in the driveway, "Cordelia, can you talk to me please? What's wrong?"

You held her arm from a moment, but she was so caught up with frustration that she didn't even relax under your touch. "Can we just go in? Please," she said, not conveying an ounce of her usual softness.

Cordelia didn't give you any time to catch up. By the time you got out of the car, she had already walked through the front door. Walking as fast as she always did when she was angry, with her arms crossed to her chest.

You stood there, for a moment, before you went in. Puzzled. Trying to figure out what went wrong. You weren't angry with her behavior; You were concerned that there was something going on that you were unaware about. Something that clearly flew right over your head.

You walked inside the academy. Some of the girls sat in the living room; Zoe, Madison, Queenie. Their faces told you that Cordelia might've been sharp with them as well. "What's her problem," Madison asks. She looks offended at Cordelia's existence alone.

"I don't know. Did she say something to you's?"

"No. The bitch just stormed right in without even saying hi. And then slammed her bedroom door shut."

You glared at Madison. Cordelia didn't deserve to be called a bitch, but that was just how Madison expressed herself. You headed towards the stairs, "I'll go check on her. Sorry, guys."

You could feel Madison's eyes roll but you continued up the staircase. Eventually, when you were at the bedroom door that you shared with your girlfriend, you knocked three times to get her attention. To give her some time to get herself together, opposed to just letting yourself in.

She didn't answer. Another knock too and the hallways still echoed with silence. And so, you took a deep breath and entered. There was nothing out of the ordinary besides Cordelia face down on the bed. Her back heavily risen and fell, harshly.

"Delia?" You asked, to your own dismay, it was yet again, a scream of silence. Nevertheless, her sobs filled the room, attacking your own heart with pain. You walked towards the bed, sat on the edge of it. "Honey, what's wrong?"

It wasn't the first time tonight that you've asked that, but most certainly the first that she hadn't gotten crossed with you over it.

Her sobs still echoed the obnoxiously huge bedroom. Eyes puffy red, cheeks soaked along with dents from the outlines of her pillow, she looked at you from the corner of her eye. "It's foolish," she says, "just forget it."

"It's not foolish if it's upsetting you. Clearly something is wrong, my love." You push away some blonde hair, however, her face is still buried in the pillow, hiding from whatever shame she's feeling. "Please talk to me." You speak in a mere whisper, hoping to pull on her heart strings.

It works. Her body slowly flips over so she's faced towards the ceiling. She won't look you in the eye. She's angry with you, there's no other explanation. "If it's that guy from the restaurant, I very much do not want to get with him. You know that."

"I know that! But it— It's just—" Cordelia stopped herself, scoffing. She covered her face with her hands. You removed them, gently squeezed them. She finally met your gaze. "I'm just so old. I'm holding you back."

"Cordelia," You said, stern, however, ever so gentle. You moved closer, still holding her hands in your lap. "Cordelia Goode, don't you talk like that. You are not old. You are not holding me back. I love you. I want you. Even if you were old, if you were one hundred years old, that wouldn't matter to me, Cordelia, I love you."

"I am. You should be able to go out with these young, beautiful women. I— I—" Her lower lip trembled, tears bouncing off. She tugged her hand back to her sides and turned her back to you.

"I do go out with a young, beautiful woman." You laid down behind her, resting an arm around her slim waist. "You are gorgeous, Delia. And it's so crazy that you think you're old. You're not."

You kissed right behind her ear, slow and sensual. Her cries died down as her heartbeat sped up. Her breath hitched. "I don't want anyone else. You are mine, honey. I'm yours forever."

She turned around again. Slow; to keep you waiting and aching to see her face that you desired for. She cuddled close into you, face buried on your chest. You threaded your hands into her soft blonde hair, gently messaging her scalp. "I love you," you say, lips pressed against her forehead.

"Prove it," she says, demeanor completely different from just a moment ago. Her breath was heavier. She caught you off guard, you completely ceased your actions.

She was challenging you.

"Mm I can do that," you whisper, lips so close to her ear that they brush against her. You sneak your hand under her blouse and lightly messaged the soft skin on her rib cage. She gasped at the sudden, cold contact. "Only if you say you love me, pretty girl"

"I love you so much," she said strongly through a breath. It wasn't the first time she'd said it, but each time felt as warm as a summer sun at golden hour. She lit a spark inside of you each time. You leaned back down, missed her lips but kissed her jaw instead, and it was the last time she would doubt your love for her.