#Jericho Sleep Alone

[madebycloud]

You're here that's the thing

jinx/powder x reader — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭���𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: home isn't a four walls and a roof nor the material things that fill in it. it's the warmth in jinx's eyes whenever she smiles at you, it's the little hands clinging to your shirt as they cross the street. home is right here. (requested by anon) warnings/themes: FLUFF!! domestic ig, vulnerability (???), slight angsty at the end but happy ending <3 words: 5.5k notes: i'm glad nothing bad happened at the ending and they all live happily ever after :D

You're chowing down on a steaming bowl of seafood at Jericho's. Every bite is a savory delight, justifying your claim that this is Zaun's finest eatery. 

A hooded figure quietly slides into the seat beside you, revealing familiar blue hair when they pull their hood back. Unfazed, you continue eating.

“Bad day?” you say, and the blue-haired person helps themselves to a seafood from your bowl without a word.

Life in Zaun is tough, especially after Silco's death, leaving room for chem barons to fight for power. What's new?

Then, a kid catches your eye. You nudge Jinx. “Who's that?” You nod at the kid in the far corner. 

Jinx, casually munching on your seafood, just shrugs, “Dunno. She's been following me.”

You stop eating and look over at the young girl who's been staring at you both, squinting at her as your gaze shifts back to Jinx. She takes notice of your questioning look and quickly says, “She's not mine,” before taking another bite of seafood.

You roll your eyes at Jinx and then turn to the kid. “You hungry, kiddo?” you call out, gesturing towards the seat beside you.

She hops up onto the stool, though it's a bit high for her and you help her up. You order her a bowl of seafood like you and Jinx were having. She begins eating, her hands stuffing her face.

“So, kid, where's your parents, guardians? Shouldn't you be with them?” But her silence persists, her big, curious eyes locked onto yours.

You and Jinx finish your food and pay Jericho, walking out into the bustling lanes with the young girl in tow. Turning to Jinx, you shrug. “Can she stay with us?” 

Jinx looks at the child and back at you. “Do we even have a room for her?”

Weighing your options, you consider the practical aspect. The answer is likely a ‘no’, but with the environment of Zaun, leaving a child alone on the streets seems far from safe.

“She could use your room,” you suggest, glancing ahead. “I mean, you found her first.”

But Jinx isn't having it. “Nah, you're the one who brought it up, so it's your room.”

You and your parents once owned a house. Thanks to the all and mighty Piltover enforcers who played a role in your parents' disappearance, leaving the house unoccupied. Seeing an opportunity, you claimed the house, not only for yourself but also for your close friend who, without it, would have nowhere to sleep comfortably.

“It's my house.”

“Our house,” she corrects, smirking. “Considering most of the stuff there comes from me, it's not just yours. So that means–”

“By ‘comes from you,’ do you mean the stuff you've stolen?” Your brow furrows as you stop in your tracks, planting your hands on your hips as you stare at her.

Jinx shrugs nonchalantly, her smirk still present. “Finders keepers.”

You sigh, knowing you're not winning this argument, especially not in the middle of the street with people starting to watch. “Fine,” you relent. “She can sleep in my room. I'll take the couch.”

You crouch down to meet the kid's gaze, Jinx standing beside you with her arms crossed. “What's your name, little one?” you ask, but the child remains wordless, those big eyes staring back at you.

You glance at Jinx for help, but she's already thinking of names. “How about Pompom?”

The kid wrinkles her nose at the idea.

“Or maybe Pinky?” Jinx continues, grinning. “Or Sparkles!”

“How about ‘Isha’?” you suggest.

The moment the name leaves your lips, the child's eyes light up.

“Isha it is then.”

Jinx, a bit pouty, muttering under her breath, “She likes ‘Isha’ more, huh? Figures, it came from you.”

“What? It's a nice name,” you raise an eyebrow at her.

“Yeah, whatever.” She turns to Isha, poking the girl on the nose. “Well, Isha, you're stuck with us now.”

Isha's eyes dart between you and Jinx. “More like we're the ones who are stuck with her,” you reply, chuckling, as you playfully ruffle the girl's hair.

—

It's been a full month since Isha started living under the same roof.  You catch Jinx making her hold a gun, teaching her how to shoot.

You scoff, raising an eyebrow. “Seriously, Jinx?”

Both Jinx and Isha look up at you, equally undeterred. “What? It's a fake gun,” Jinx defends herself.

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “That's not the point, Jinx. She's just a kid.”

“Pft, ‘just’ a kid.” Jinx rolls her eyes, clearly not understanding your concern. “It's harmless, I promise. Just a little fun.”

“If you're looking for something fun…” You reach into your bag and pull out a coloring book and colored markers. “I found these in the lanes,” you explain, offering the items to Isha. “Much better than play-shooting,” you suggest, giving a pointed look to Jinx before she can protest.

She watches as Isha's face lights up, her attention quickly shifting to the coloring book and markers. “But…” Jinx starts. 

“No buts, Jinx. She's coloring now.”

Jinx lets out a sigh, clearly dissatisfied, but she doesn't protest further. She pouts, leaning back against a wall as she watches Isha happily coloring in.

You join Isha, sitting next to her. Her young hands grip the markers tightly as she fills the pages with colors.

“Making something nice?” you ask, peering over her shoulder to see her work.

Isha nods, her tongue sticking out of her mouth as she carefully adds some color. She glances at you, offering a shy smile before returning to her drawing.

Once Isha is finished with her drawing, she proudly holds it up for you and Jinx to see. The drawing shows three stick figures on a bright blue sky. The two tallest figures, with one that has what looks like braids, are holding hands with the small one in the middle. The three figures smile under the sun.

“Wow, look at that! It's us, all together.”

 Jinx, though reluctant at first, can't help but crack a smile too.

She leans in closer, “Why are my eyes so big?” She snickers, pointing at the comically large eyes drawn on her figure.

You laugh along with Jinx, pointing to a comical squiggly line drawn below your feet in the picture. “And what's that supposed to be, hm?” Isha giggles, a blush creeping up her face.

“It's your shadow, duh,” Jinx quips back. 

“In that case, my shadow looks like it ate too much and grew extra limbs.”

“Well, if your shadow's a glutton, mine's got tentacles.” She points to her shadow drawing, which indeed looks like it has several wriggly appendages attached to it.

“You know, I think this is wall-worthy,” you grin, holding up the drawing. “What do you think, Isha? Do you want to put this on the wall?”

You turn to Isha, who nods excitedly, clapping her hands together. 

You hand the drawing to Isha, who eagerly takes it to the wall. You follow her, lifting her up slightly so she can stick the drawing against the wall. She smooths out any wrinkles and carefully adjusts it until she's satisfied.

“Ta-da!” you say, as the drawing now has a permanent place of honor on the walll.

“Not too shabby, squirt”. She glances at the drawing again, and then her gaze shifts towards Isha. For a moment, a soft expression appears in her eyes. “Who knows? Maybe one day we'll see this piece in a Piltover's museum, valued at a million golden hexes.” 

“Only a million? I think it's worth a lot more. Maybe we should start an auction right here and now.”

Isha giggles, her small fingers tracing the colors on her drawing again.

“Alright, alright, don't go getting ideas. We don't need some fancy Piltie art collector trying to buy this and hang it in their mansion.”

“Come on, Jinx.” You nudge her. “Don't you think it'd be hilarious to see this hanging in some fancy mansion surrounded by all those fancy Piltover paintings? Maybe we should get Isha to paint more of this and turn this whole place into a gallery.”

—

You meant ‘place’ not your face.

Laying down on the couch, you squint your eyes open as you feel a moist sensation along your face. When your vision clears, you see Isha, giggling, marker in hand, and running away as fast as her legs can carry her. 

“Hey!” You sit up, a chuckle rising in your throat. “You little rascal, come here!” 

The sound of a door opening makes you pause. Turning, you see Jinx standing there, half-asleep and clearly irritated.

“What the hell is going on here?” she grumbles, rubbing her eyes.

A snicker escapes Isha's lips.

“Looks like you've got a new makeup look, Jinx.”

“What?” she asks, her voice still groggy from sleep.

Silence.

Jinx looks at your face. Isha's hand. Finally placing her own hand on her face. Wet mark on her face. Smear of color on her hand.

“Isha.”

You and Jinx exchange a glance. Grins matching hers. Without hesitation, you both rush after Isha, who breaks into a run.

Just as she turns a corner, you quickly change direction and outstretch your hands, successfully scooping her up into your arms and spinning her around, her hands grasping at your shirt and arms around your neck as she continues to giggle.

While still holding Isha, you see Jinx's eyes as her hand darts towards a nearby marker and begins to draw on Isha's face. 

“Hold still, you little gremlin!” Jinx says, struggling to keep her marker strokes even while Isha wiggles and giggles. She manages to add a few squiggles and dots before Isha's laughter becomes uncontrollable, disrupting any further attempts at ‘decorating’.

“Come on, lemme finish it.” A few more ink-blots make their way onto the girl's face before she's set down. “Ta-da!” Jinx declares, wiping her hands on her pants. 

Isha, still giggling, runs to the nearest mirror, who is practically bouncing on the balls of her feet as she takes in her reflection. She turns her head from side to side, admiring her new ‘makeover’ from Jinx.

Feeling a tingle in your chest, you steal a glance at Jinx, watching her smile at Isha. 

Idiot, you silently scold yourself.

But your lips still curve into a small smile. 

Damn it, you silently curse to yourself, hoping Jinx didn't notice you staring at her with that expression written all over your face.

But Isha doesn't miss that. She looks between you and Jinx, the gears in her young mind turning, and a sly grin slowly spreads across her face.

Oh. She knows something that you'd prefer to keep hidden.

—

Isha's been down with a cold.

Today, you made her a bowl of porridge. Jinx volunteered to help.

You stand at the stove, stirring the simmering porridge, with Jinx by your side, carefully cutting up some fresh fruit to mix into the meal. You carefully ladle the porridge into a bowl, checking to make sure it's just the right temperature for Isha's sore throat.

You glance down at the bowl, satisfied with the consistency and temperature, before moving it onto a tray along with a spoon, a glass of water, and the bowl of fruit.

You head towards Isha's room, with Jinx following close behind. You can hear the sound of soft coughing coming from inside, along with the rustle of blankets.

Pushing open the door gently, you enter the room to find Isha sitting up in her bed, her blankets piled around her. Her face is flushed from the fever, and she looks tired, but her eyes light up when she sees the tray in your hands.

“Here's your porridge,” you say softly, setting it down on the bedside table. 

Jinx moves to the other side of the bed, plopping down next to Isha and gently placing a cool hand against her forehead. “You're still a bit warm.”

Isha nods weakly, trying to suppress a cough.

“But that porridge should help,” you add, settling on the edge of the bed and offering the bowl to Isha. “Slow sips, okay? Don't want you getting a tummy ache on top of everything else.”

Isha accepts the bowl and sips the porridge carefully. 

“There you go.” You smile, watching as Isha continues eating. Jinx grabs the glass of water, holding it up to Isha's lips once she's taken a few spoonfuls.

Once she's done, Jinx continues to check on her, fluffing her pillows, adjusting the blankets, and giving her the occasional pat on the head.

—

It's late evening. 

Jinx sits cross-legged on the floor, her back resting against the footboard of the bed where Isha is lying down. The little girl's eyes are focused on Jinx, her hands covering her face partially as if trying to stay up a bit longer.

Jinx tells a story she learned from Vander, one that he used to tell her when she was a child. A story about miners getting stuck in a mine and rescued by a mysterious, wisp-like woman that guided them to safety.

When Jinx finishes the story, she glances at Isha, expecting her to be asleep by now. Instead, she lies there and watches Jinx.

Peeking through the door, you expect to find Isha asleep, but she is still wide awake. Jinx looks like she's wracking her brain to think of more stories, still determined to get the little girl to sleep.

A chuckle escapes your lips as you settle down on the floor next to Jinx. “She's not tired yet, huh?” you whisper to Jinx. 

“No, not yet,” she replies. “I've run out of stories to tell and she doesn't seem even a bit sleepy.”

“She's just like you.”

“Hush,” she says, trying to suppress a smile. “I'm not the one keeping her awake right now.” She turns back to Isha, who is still awake and watching both of you.

“Well, neither of us are helping,” you point out, looking at the little girl who's staring at you both. “Isha, it's time for bed. You need to close your eyes and sleep.”

Isha pouts, clearly not wanting to go to sleep just yet. She looks at Jinx and then at you, her eyes pleading for another story. 

“Come on, kid,” Jinx says. “It's well past your bedtime. No more stories.”

Isha's pout deepens, her bottom lip jutting out stubbornly.

You stand up from the floor, walking over to a nearby bookshelf where you keep various children's books and comics. After a quick rummage, you find a colorful comic book that should interest Isha.

You return to the bed, carrying the comic book, and sit down next to Jinx again. Isha leans forward, her eyes immediately drawn to the book in your hands.

“Found one,” you say, holding up the comic book for the little girl to see. Her eyes light up when she recognizes the vibrant cover. 

Flipping open the comic book to the first page, you begin reading aloud about a group of animals in a forest. Isha listens intently, snuggled up in bed, her eyes darting between the images and your face as you read the story.

“Every day, these animals would wake up early,” you read, pointing to the drawing of the animals waking up and stretching. “Some would eat breakfast, some went to play, and some went to search for food.”

“One particularly lazy squirrel woke up late.” You turn over the page to reveal a picture of a sleepy little squirrel yawning and rubbing his eyes as the other animals were already out of their nests.

“By the time he woke up, all the nuts were already gone.” You flip over the page again to reveal an image of the squirrel, now wide awake, frantically searching for something to eat but finding nothing but empty trees and bushes.

“The squirrel was shocked and saddened that the nuts had run. But then,” you change your tone dramatically, “one of the rabbits heard the squirrel's cries and decided to help him!”

You turn the page again. This time, the picture shows the rabbit coming up to the squirrel, a nut in his paw. “The rabbit, seeing the squirrel's plight, decided to share his own breakfast with him.”

“The squirrel was delighted and grateful,” you read, and you turn the page to show an image of the squirrel happily sharing the nut with the rabbit. ��The two of them ate and ate together, until their tummies were full and they fell asleep in a heap on the forest floor!”

You glance up from the book and see that Isha has finally fallen asleep. Her small head is now lying on her pillow and a smile graces her lips, as if she were dreaming about the animals from the comic book.

You close the comic book and set it down, but then there's a weight on your shoulder. 

Looking to the side, you see Jinx, who has fallen asleep. Her head rests on your shoulder. Her hair tickles your neck. Her eyes closed. Her mouth slightly open, softly snoring.

Still as a statue. 

You find yourself staring at the soft curtain of blue hair, your fingers itching to reach out and push it aside. 

But you don't. You can't. You don't want to wake her up. Don't move. 

It would be a small action, but you know that it might wake her up, and the last thing you want is to deal with a grumpy face and her snarky comment. 

But your hand moves as if it has a mind of its own. Inch by inch, your fingers close in until they make contact with her hair, brushing it back over her ear. 

Jinx lets out a sigh, her head leaning into your hand as if aching for your touch.

Her face, now with her bangs brushed aside, shows her features—so fine, so distinctly her.

Your eyes trace her face. You want to hold her in a way that you'll remember forever. You want to know her in every way possible, to learn every inch of her, to understand every thought and feeling she's ever had.

Her arms are the only chains you'd gladly wear. Her eyes in which you'd forever be lost. Her smile is the one you can never say no to. Her voice is the song that you could listen to for hours.

You wonder if she would lean into your touch, if she would arch her head into your palm. Would she let you caress her face, your fingers tracing the slope of her jaw and the curve of her cheek? Or would she pull back, pushing you away?

But as quickly as it began, it ended.

You pull your hand away. Your fingers clenching into a fist and returning to your lap. The memory of her hair against your skin remains, burning at the edges of your thoughts.

Then Jinx slowly stirs from her sleep. She lifts her head from your shoulder, her heavy-lidded eyes meeting yours, then your mouth, then back to your eyes again.

You saw her throat move. Are you hallucinating? Is it just your imagination? You can't tell for sure. You wonder if your mind is playing tricks on you. Your thoughts are fogged by the way she's looking at you.

Her eyes linger on your face, tracing every contour, every feature.

Your heart is in your throat. You can hear it pulsing in your ears. You can feel your palms getting sweaty. You try to hold her gaze, but your own eyes are drawn to her lips, soft and slightly parted.

Finally, Jinx breaks the silence. “You're staring,” she murmurs.

You blink, her words snapping you out of your trance. “I–” you start to respond, then realize how stupid and obvious it sounded. “Just making sure you didn't drool on me.”

She chuckles, her hand pushing your face away from hers. 

“Hey!” you say, putting a palm to your face.

You watch as Jinx stands up, heading towards the door, opening it slightly, and pausing to look back at you. 

“Good night,” she says, eyes lingering on yours for a moment.

“Night, Jinx,” you reply, one hand still resting on your face.

You catch a glimpse of a smile forming on her lips as she disappears through the door, leaving you sitting there with a palm still on your cheek.

You hear a soft, barely suppressed giggle coming from Isha's bed. Confused, you turn to look at her, only to find her looking at you with a wide grin. 

“Isha,” you say, surprised, “I thought you were asleep!”

—

“You could have warned me,” Sevika grumbles. Isha continues to focus on coloring her hat.

“Fat chance,” Jinx responds, turning to face Sevika. “About what?”

Sevika glares at her, obviously displeased. “Your stunt at the checkpoint.”

“No idea what you're babbling about.”

“That wasn't you?” She scoffs. 

Jinx pauses, realization crossing her face. She glances at Isha with a knowing look, noticing the smirk on the child's face.

The conversation with Sevika continues, with Jinx growing more and more restless as it does. Once the discussion is over, Jinx rises from her spot. “I gotta go bother someone,” she says, before walking out.

You notice the look on Isha's face. Disappointment.

“Let's go, Isha,” you say, already grabbing a bat and some small balls. You don’t wait for a response, signaling for her to follow as you head to the door.

—

It's late, the sun having set and the moon now high in the sky. You and Isha had spent the previous hours playing, but Jinx still hasn't returned. Concerned, the two of you look for her.

Isha rides on your shoulder, her small hands gripping your hair. She looks at the surroundings for any sign of Jinx. 

After some time walking and climbing, you end up on a rooftop. You both climb carefully, making sure not to fall.

Finally, when perched on the edge, you spot Jinx. She's sitting with her knees against her chest, looking out at Piltover.

You gently place Isha down on the rooftop, giving her a subtle nudge, gesturing towards Jinx. Isha catches your cue, nodding quietly and slowly approaches Jinx.

Isha carefully settled herself down beside her. Her legs dangling off the ledge of the rooftop.

You take a seat on the other side of Isha, settling down with a soft rustle of fabric. 

Jinx continues to stare out at the city, her chin resting on her folded arms. “You guys found me, huh?”

Isha shifts her position, moving closer. You notice that she's looking up at Jinx, her small head resting against her arm.

Jinx glances at the child. She reaches over to ruffle Isha's hair affectionately.

“Couldn't stay away.”

“Yeah,” she mutters, “I guess you two are pretty stubborn.”

You reposition yourself, shifting your body so that you can lean back and rest a hand on the cold, gritty rooftop.

Jinx moves herself into a more relaxed position, leaning back and placing her hand on the rooftop next to yours. With her other hand, she pats at Isha, gesturing for the child to lay down.

Isha obliges, her small body now sprawled out across Jinx's lap. She fidgets a bit, clearly beginning to tire.

Watching over the city below while the moon hangs low in the night sky, a familiar touch breaks the silence, fingertips seeking yours.

There's a gentle pressure, a gentle caress, that causes your hand to twitch involuntarily, yet you don't pull away.

Her hand rests on top of yours, claiming its place as if it were always meant to be there. Jinx's fingers trace patterns across the back of your hand, like a secret language only she understands. 

“Your hands are cold,” she continues tracing lazy circles with the pads of her fingers.

You hadn't even realized how cold your hand had felt until she pointed it out, and now it seems to be burning under her touch.

“Ever thought about wearing gloves?” 

“Gloves?” you repeat, finding your own voice now. 

“Hm, I guess not.” 

Her fingers suddenly stop their tracing, and for a moment, you feel disappointed. But she quickly resumes, her thumb brushing over your wrist, the pulse point.

Jinx glances up at you, a smirk on her lips. “Your pulse is racing. Am I making you nervous?”

“No,” you say, though the speed of your pulse likely betrays your words.

“Uh huh. You're a terrible liar.” She continues to hold your wrist, thumb now drumming a slow, steady rhythm against your pulse point. “Relax. I don't bite... much.”

You try to calm your racing heartbeat, she's making it difficult. “I'm relaxed.”

Isha shifts in Jinx's lap, her body stirring slightly. Both you and Jinx turning your attention towards the girl. 

Jinx lifts her free hand and pats Isha's head reassuringly. Her touch is soft and careful, not wanting to disturb the sleeping girl.

With Isha settled, Jinx turns her attention back to you. She still hasn't let go of your wrist, her fingers now massaging little circles into your skin. “You're awfully tense for someone who's ‘relaxed’.”

She studies you for a moment, her eyes roaming your face, then she suddenly releases your hand. The sudden absence of her touch feels like a loss.

Jinx sits back, creating a bit of space between the two of you. 

“What's on your mind?”

“Just thinking.”

You frown, frustrated by her vague response. “About what?”

“About you,” she answers.

Her reply catches you off guard. You feel your cheeks warm, and you mentally scold yourself. Why is she having this effect on you?

“Me?” you ask, trying to remain calm.

Jinx glances down at the sleeping Isha, a smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, and Isha,” she says, her hand absently playing with the child's hair. Her eyes then dart back to you. “Mostly you, though.” 

“Uh, me?” you repeat, mentally cursing yourself for sounding like a parrot.

Jinx hums, still absently playing with Isha’s hair. 

“What... what about us?”

Jinx doesn't respond right away. Her gaze flicks between you and the sleeping child, contemplating something.

“I've got a habit of bringing trouble wherever I go.” She turns to you. “I just-” she begins. “I don't want anything bad to happen to either of you... because of me.”

Her eyes search yours before she looks down at Isha. “I'm not sure what I'd do if something happened to you… either of you.” She pauses. “I care too much,” she blurts out, looking back up at you. “And honestly, it scares me.” You can see her shoulders tense, struggling to find the right words. “I don't want to mess everything up. Everyone I've ever cared about has gotten hurt by me, or because of me.”

You ache to pull her into your arms, to soothe the worries that are weighing on her shoulders. It takes every ounce of restraint you have not to. “No, no, I'm not going anywhere. Neither is Isha.”

“You don't know what could happen.”

“Yes, I do,” you murmur. “I know there's a chance we might end up hurt. Or worse.” You take a deep breath, holding her gaze steady with yours. “But that's a risk I'm willing to take,” you continue. “Because being with you, right now, is worth it.”

She opens her mouth to protest, but you cut her off. “No. No more talking. You've said what you need to say. Now let me say what I need to say.”

Eyes never leaving hers, you reach out slowly, giving her enough time to pull away if she wanted to. But she doesn't, and your fingers find their way to her cheek, gently cupping her face.

“I care about you too,” you murmur, your thumb tracing a path over her cheekbone. “I care about the person you are, not just the person you think you are. I see the good in you, the good that you struggle to see in yourself.”

Her lips part, as if to utter another protest, but you press a finger to her mouth to silence her. “Let me speak. I'm not done yet.”

“You're afraid,” you continue. “You're terrified of the possibility of me or Isha getting hurt. I understand. But you need to realize,” you pause, your fingers moving from her mouth to her chin, tilting it up so that she's looking you fully in the eye.

“You're not a curse,” you say. “You're not a jinx. Bad things happen, but that doesn't mean it's your fault. It's not your fault—” 

“I know.” She trembles under your touch. Her eyes glisten. 

“No, listen to me. It's not your fault.”

“I know.” Despite her best efforts, the dam is beginning to break. 

“It's not your fault,” you repeat. A single tear manages to escape, trickling down her cheek and into your palm. “You were just a child.”

“But I should have known. I should have—They're gone because of me. It's my fault.”

“No, no, no, it's not your fault. You were just a child. You were doing what you thought was the best to help them, to protect them.” You wipe the tear away with your thumb, your heart aching for her. You can see the battle she's fighting within herself, and it kills you that you can't do more. 

“You are not defined by your past, by your mistakes,” you continue, your hand still on her cheek, feeling the tremble as she struggles to hold back her tears. “You are so much more than that.”

“You are loved.” Your fingers trace her jawline, before moving slowly upwards to her temple. “By me, by Isha. And by many more people than you realize.” For perhaps the first time, Jinx lets herself break. She leans into your touch, her cheek pressing against your palm. Her eyes never leave yours, seeking solace, reassurance. She grips your wrists weakly, her hands trembling. “It's okay, I'm right here.”

“I'm not going anywhere,” you murmur. “No matter what happens, you hear me? I'm here to stay. We're here to stay. You're stuck with us.”

Slowly, the tears begin to subside. Her breathing steadies. Her body calming down.

You let your fingers slowly shift from her tear stained cheeks to her hair, playing with the strands. “I'll do everything in my power to keep both of you safe.” Your hands move down to her shoulders, giving her a gentle squeeze.

“I'm not some damsel in distress,” she mutters. 

You laugh, leaning back on your hands. “I know you're not,” you assure her. “You'd probably kick my ass if I tried to treat you like one. But even the toughest people need someone to have their backs, right?”

Jinx huffs, though you can see the edges of a smile on her face. “That's a cheesy line.” 

“Maybe,” you admit. “But it's still true. You don't have to face everything alone.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” she says, her hand resuming its gentle stroking of Isha’s hair. “You're annoyingly stubborn, you know that?”

“And yet?”

Jinx snorts. “And yet somehow I tolerate you.”

Sensing the change in atmosphere, Isha mumbles incoherently, shifting slightly.

“Looks like someone's stirring,” Jinx coos.

With one final pat on Jinx's shoulder, you withdraw your hand, silently communicating that the moment is over, for now.

Her shoulders tense at the loss of your touch, disappointment or perhaps longing in her eyes. But she quickly composes herself.

The little girl slowly opens her eyes, blinking sleepily and looking around disoriented. She rubs one eye with a fist, then glances up as if just realizing that she's in Jinx's lap.

Isha grins brightly when she sees Jinx, her tired eyes lighting up. She wriggles a bit, stretching her limbs and looking surprisingly cheerful despite being woken up.

“I think we should head back. It's getting late.”

Jinx nods, carefully shifting Isha in her arms as she stands up. The child wraps her arms around Jinx's neck, clinging to her like a monkey.

“Alright, kid, time to head home,” Jinx tells Isha, bouncing her up in her arms. The girl giggles and buries her head into the crook of Jinx's neck.

Seeing Jinx like this with Isha is something else. She looks so... soft.

“Ready to go?” Jinx asks, looking at you. Isha wriggles, eager to get going.

You nod, gesturing for them to lead the way. Isha stretches out a hand towards you, wanting to hold onto you too.

“Looks like you've got a fan.”

“Nah, she just likes me that much.”

“That so?” Jinx huffs. “Or is she just using you to get to me?”

“You know she'd choose my company over yours any day.” 

“Oh, so that's how it is, huh?” She pokes Isha gently in the stomach, causing another giggle from the child. “Traitor,” she mutters, before addressing you again. “I'm wounded, really.”

“You'll survive,” you assure her. “Somehow.”

The warmth of Isha's grasp on your hand. The giggle that escapes her every time Jinx spins her around. The way Jinx's eyes soften when she looks at the child.

This, you realize, is what home could feel like.

notes: im so excited for act 4 on saturday!

[green-eyedfirework]

Dick didn’t remember drifting off to sleep, but he was rudely awakened by a spike in alpha aggressiveness and someone inconsiderately yanking the pup from his arms.  Dick growled instinctively, but the voice that growled back was a lot deeper and a lot angrier.

He fought to get his eyes open, and then scrambled all the way up when he realized he was being loomed over by four alphas in orange-and-black.

Right.  The creepy beta.  Deathstroke’s pack.  The bites.

Dick tried not to shiver as he noticed he was still half-naked in comparison to the fully dressed alphas, but all of the enhanced mercenaries caught his twitch.

“What the fuck kind of game is this?” Deathstroke hissed, Respawn tucked under his arm.

Not in rut anymore.  Good to know.

“What makes you think I know?” Dick snapped back, voice hoarser than he’d like.  The room was still thick with the scent of alpha aggression and Dick felt...unclean.  Unsafe.  Alone and unprotected.  “I was locked in here, same as you.”

He didn’t realize he was reaching to bonds that were no longer there until he ended up brushing the ones that were.

There was another spike of anger as the alphas responded to the motion.

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” Deathstroke snarled.  “This is just the kind of game a hero would set up.  What is this supposed to be, some kind of rehabilitation attempt?  Did they think that if you seduced your way into our pack, that we’d give up our jobs?”

“Seduced?!” Dick spluttered in growing indignation.  He’d wanted no fucking part of this, and especially not being claimed by Deathstroke and his pack.

“What do you call drugging us into rut to get us to bite you?” Ravager shoved forward to snap in Dick’s face and Dick growled back, ignore the prickle of fear of stand his ground.  He was not going to be pushed around by a pack of mercenary alphas.

Even if they were all stronger than him.  Even if he was exhausted to his bones.  Even if all he wanted to do was curl up in a small ball and cry.

“And how do I know this isn’t your idea?” Dick hissed.  “You expect me to believe you and your entire fucking pack was stupid enough to get drugged?  That it was just a coincidence that you’re in my city?”

“Your city, omega?” Grant snarled.  “I don’t see your name on it.”  He was leaking enough alpha challenge to make Dick’s teeth grind.

“You know full well—”

“This is all your fucking fault—”

“How can you blame me for your own incompetence—”

“Oh, and what’s your excuse, Nightwing—”

“Enough.”

The word was filled with enough alpha command to make Dick’s knees go weak.  He locked them and continued glaring.  The pup had been passed on to Nightshade and Jericho while Deathstroke advanced on him.

“You bound yourself to us, kid,” Deathstroke said, low and dangerous, and every one of Dick’s instincts were on screaming alert.  “Tell us what you know, or I’ll break the bond to splinters and leave you choking on it.”

“I don’t know,” Ravager drawled before Dick could respond to the threat or the sharp flare of terror it caused.  He did a once-over of Dick, obvious even with the mask, and Dick fought the urge to cover himself with his arms.  “I kinda like the thought of Nightwing on his knees.”  Dick swallowed, and twitched back a step.  “What do you say, omega?  You can win the claim the hard way.”

“Go to hell,” Dick bared his teeth, as vicious as he could make it, flaring his scent in aggression.  But there was one of him and five of them and the resulting spike in alpha scent left him dizzy.  “I will make you regret even trying—”

“Down.”

His knees throbbed in sudden pain and he was suddenly looking up at all of them.  The realization took a second to catch up to his sluggish mind, and he wasn’t able to entirely keep the shock off his face.

“Aww,” Ravager chuckled, “Looks like you do recognize your place.”

Dick’s fragile hold on his temper, worn razor-thin by stress and pain and exhaustion, snapped.  He had to be the calm one, the rational one, he was the vigilante, the older brother, the leader, he always had to deescalate—except right now, all Dick cared about was tearing out the Ravager’s throat.

Alphas were absolutely vicious in defense of their territory and the worst place to be was between an alpha and something they were protecting.  But an omega was truly dangerous when they were backed into a corner.

Dick didn’t care about the bruises, the sharp flares of pain around his nipples, the throbbing pulses of bite marks on his throat—his anger coalesced into one smirking target.

Ravager clearly wasn’t expecting Dick to hit as hard as he did and the older alpha went down with a shout, Dick twisting free of his grip to go for another jab.  The cell erupted in angry yells and Dick ignored them all, laser focused, fear and pain and upset all combining to feed his rage.

He got in two more punches and a kick—he felt Ravager’s ribs snap under the force of the blow—gloves raking at any part of the alpha he could reach, before they were separated.  Violently.  Dick’s last clear sight was Deathstroke’s furious face before teeth sank into the side of his neck.

Dick crumpled like a ragdoll.

It wasn’t like the first time.  He couldn’t fight the submission, not even slightly, the tide overwhelming him as he drowned in emotions that weren’t his.

Rage—"the fucking little bitch, going to teach him a lesson”—frustration—a sharp, stinging pain in his scalp—wariness—"guys, wait, I don’t think”—fear—a quiet, scared pup sound—"stop, you’re hurting him!”

He could smell milk again.  His own milk, overproducing in response to the alpha rage, an omegan defense mechanism in the face of a hostile pack.

No.  Nonononono.  This wasn’t right.  His pack.  Where was his pack?  Dick rifled through the bonds he could feel, all unfamiliar, rage and frustration directed towards him, but none of them were right.  Where was his pack?

Another set of teeth, closing on the jut of his collarbone, vicious and sharp and take-it-omega-know-your-place-satisfaction-rage and Dick choked under the onslaught.  The grip in his hair vanished and Dick fell.

He didn’t stop falling.

Is this what Mom and Dad felt? a shred of coherent thought drifted amongst the screaming.  Someone was crying, awful, tearing sobs interspersed with desperate omega whimpers, and Dick thought dully that he should help them.  But he couldn’t, paralyzed as he fell and fell and fell, until he stopped fearing the ground and waited for the impact.

There were other noises too.  Snarls and growls.  Words, too fast for Dick to understand.  A quiet, wavering call, pup to pack-omega, and Dick instinctively reached towards it.

Turned out he could move after all.  He grabbed the pup and curled around them, so that he would hit the ground first and save the pup.  But why was the pup falling?  Dick was the only one on the tightrope.

The pup snuggled closer, still making quiet calls, overemphasized like they weren’t used to making them, and Dick crooned in response, reassuring them that pack-omega was there and they were safe.  He pulled the bond too, a reassuring tug of comfort in the oasis of terror.

Dick could smell the acrid scent of fear everywhere and swiped a gentle hand over the pup to wipe it off of him.  Pups should be safe and happy.

The other bonds inside him thrummed and Dick slowly poked down them.  They were muted, controlled, but the one nearest was emitting soft pulses of safe-shh-protect and Dick followed it to alpha-sister and fingers stroking through his hair.  He opened his eyes and saw her leaning over him, his head in her lap.

He wasn’t falling.

Dick blinked again and realized he was curled up on the ground, clutching a white-haired pup.  Respawn.  The other alpha was Nightshade.  He was in the cell.

He slowly turned his head and went very still when he saw the other alphas.  Ravager was crouching next to him, Jericho standing at his shoulder.  He couldn’t see Deathstroke but he could hear banging on the door.

“Are you done?” Ravager snapped brusquely.

Dick didn’t realize he’d flinched back until Nightshade made a warning growl.

Ravager growled back at her, “Oh, like I was supposed to know he’d go into some kind of screaming fit.”

Dick’s throat was very hoarse.  It felt like he’d swallowed sandpaper.

“Look,” Ravager said tersely, “just tell us how to get out of here and we’ll leave you alone.  It’s a fair trade.”

“I don’t know,” Dick rasped.

“What?”

“I don’t know how to get out.  I was drugged and dragged here.”

“You’re really going to stick to that story?” Ravager huffed.

“Not a story,” Dick narrowed his eyes, voice creaking under the strain.  “What part of this makes you think I want to be here?”

Ravager sat back on his heels and glanced at Dick, this time more scanning and less leering.  The bruises were probably obvious, enhanced strength leaving marks from all the manhandling.  Dick didn’t even want to know what the bruises looked like.

When it didn’t look like Ravager was going to respond, Dick turned away from him and curled up tighter, cuddling the pup.  If he closed his eyes, he could pretend it was Damian.  He had to imagine the tutting and Damian’s supercilious huffs.

He wondered what Damian felt when Dick’s bond suddenly snapped.  If he thought Dick had abandoned him.  If he—if he was—if his pup was—

“Stop that,” came the snarl above him and Dick realized he was crying again, tears slipping down his face.  He hastily wiped at them but they continued to fall.  He could do nothing about the grief filling his chest.

“So sorry my emotions are inconveniencing you,” he said thickly.  He felt a thrum of annoyance through the bond, before it snapped to alertness and all the alphas turned towards the ceiling.

Dick squinted up as well, but it took him a couple more seconds to hear the hiss of gas escaping into the room.

“What is it?” Ravager growled.

“Don’t know,” Deathstroke replied tersely.  “Get down, all of you.”

Dick let his head thunk back down.  Of course.  Creepy scientist guy hadn’t gotten what he wanted.

“It’s probably another rut inducer,” Dick said wearily.  “There’s this crazy scientist who wants to study baby metas.”  If the guy had the facilities to contain a whole mercenary pack, then he definitely had the facilities to keep Nightwing locked up for his mad plan.  How long would his family continue to look for him if they believed he was dead?  “Wants one of you to put a pup inside me.”

The looks of appalled shock were slightly reassuring.  But Dick could tell that the room was filling with gas and the alphas were beginning to get affected.

“That’s not how ruts work,” Nightshade protested, her voice deepening.

“Feel free to give the man a physiology lesson once you get out,” Dick offered, nestling back down with the pup.

He was going to take a nap this time.  He didn’t have the energy to even worry about what the alphas would do, much less calm them, and if he wanted to escape from here, he needed some space to think.

“If he wants a pup from you,” Deathstroke growled, low and dark.  “Then he needs you alive, doesn’t he.”

It wasn’t a question.  Dick’s eyes snapped back open and he slowly turned to face the alphas.

He met only hard glares.

Dick swallowed and curled trembling fingers into fists.

[jangofettjamz]

Doctor Wednesday Pt2

Gentle!Wednesday x Selective!Mute!Male!Reader

Reader is on the Autism spectrum.

Summary: You feel overwhelmed and Wednesday comforts you because you're her favourite person.

Words: 1786

Wednesday POV

"Is he okay?" Enid asked me, worried for Y/Ns condition.

"He'll be fine soon enough, his fever is getting better, though not yet in the normal range. He's still quite congested. I'm constantly checking him over. I haven't left his side." I say to the werewolf. "I won't leave him alone until I'm confident that he's well enough to resume classes."

She smiled at me, deviously. "What?" I ask her, wanting to know what she found so obviously amusing.

"You're so in love, Wednesday it's insane." She laughed as she spoke. I hate to admit it, but Enid is most certainly correct. I am in love with my beautiful Y/N, and I'm not ashamed to admit that, not at all. Though I am ashamed to admit that Enid is proven right.

I let out a sharp exhalation, expressing my annoyance with the werewolf. "You're enjoying the fact that you're right about me, aren't you?" A rhetorical question, but she answers anyway.

"Umm absolutely! You're so in love with him. And now you're basically his personal doctor. How romantic!" She exclaims excitedly, luckily no one heard as we were in our dorm.

"I didn't want to take him to the infirmary. The nurses completely disregard his needs everytime he goes there. I won't put him through any unnecessary discomfort if I can prevent it. Besides, I'm far more qualified to take care of him than those pitiful excuses for nursing staff" I scoff, their incompetence definitely shows.

My eyes dart over to Y/N sleeping figure, I only hope he's not in anymore pain when he regains consciousness.

"Anyways, would you like to go out with me and Yoko to Jericho this afternoon?" She asked, but I gave her a look of disapproval.

"Go out with you and the vampire while Y/N remains alone in bed? No thank you, I have a patient to look after. Like I said, I'm not leaving him." I say, shutting down Enid's suggestion immediately.

Y/N began to stir in his sleep, whimpers of discomfort causing worry to flow through me. "Enid leave now. Y/N isn't comfortable with guests at the moment." She nods and immediately heads out, she may be foolish but she knows Y/N isn't in the mood right now.

I walked over to Y/N, who's still laying on my bed. I sat down on his bedside to gently comfort him. "Shhhh it's okay sweet boy, it's okay. I'm here." I cooed, pressing my lips to his forehead.

His eyes slowly opened, my hands stroking the top of his head as he awoke from his slumber. I smile down at him, letting him know that's he safe. "Good morning, sweetheart. How are you feeling?"

He couldn't speak too well so he began signing instead "Can I have some water please? My throat's really dry" He asked.

"Of course you can, darling" I grabbed a water bottle and held it to his lips, gently guiding the water down his throat in small increments. "Small sips, my love" he gulped down the water, soothing his dry thoat. "Your IV has finished. I'll re-examine you in a moment, but I'll give you some time since you just woke up." He nodded and began signing again.

"Can I have a hug please?" He looked embarrassed at the request. Usually I'd gag at the prospect of cuddling someone, but he's very special to me, and I love hugging him.

I smile at him and cup his face "You can have as many hugs as you want, mi amor. Don't be afraid to ask me that. Come here" I gently wrapped my arms around him and pulled him into my chest, careful not to cause any unnecessary discomfort.

"I know you're still not feeling the best, my lovely. But I'll make you all better soon I promise. It's the weekend so we can spend the next few days together." He smiled and I reciprocated, holding even tighter to my chest.

"Are you feeling okay sensory wise?" He signs that he's not feeling great. "Is the material for the blankets and pillows okay?" He nodded. "Is it your chest that's feeling weird?" He nods again "How does your chest feel?"

He began to speak with words this time. "Umm it still feels little bit tight. I still have shortness of breath." I nod at his words.

"Can you sit up for me? I'm gonna have a listen to your chest, sweet boy" he did as I asked. I took the stethoscope from around my neck and put in my ears, warming up the diaphragm against my palm for his comfort.

I placed the stethoscope onto his chest to listen. "Is that too cold, sweetheart?" He shook his head and I smiled, kissing his temple shortly afterwards. His heart was racing, at least 90bpm.

"Hey, sweet boy it's okay. Are you panicking a little?" He nods his head frantically, his chest rose and fell rapidly as his breathing became more rapid. He began to stim, tapping his knees and playing with his fingers. He's gonna have a meltdown.

His heart rate had risen more, so has his breathing. "Oh sweetheart come here" I cooed. He leaned sideways into my shoulder, my arms securing his body. "We'll rock together while I listen to your heart so I can calm you down. Does that sound okay, my love?" He nodded and snuggled into me further.

His body was shaking a tremendous amount, as though his entire nervous system was in overdrive. I held him close to me while listening to his chest, wanting to hear his heartbeat slow down while I rocked him. "Shhhh you're okay, Y/N. You're okay. I've got you. You're safe in my arms." I reassured, hoping it would slow down his heart rate.

"I'm sorry!" He cried into me.

"What an earth for, my love?" I haven't the faintest idea why he's so upset.

"I'm sorry for not getting better. I'm such a burden, taking up all your time to look after me. I'm so sorry Wednesday!" My heart broke. I could never be mad at him for needing me to take care of him, he's sick and needs his partner to help him.

"Shh shh shh I'm not mad at you, mi amor. I could never be mad. Your illness is just being stubborn is all, it's not your fault." I say whilst holding him, rocking him gently, listening to the sound of his heart slow down at my reassuring words.

"You're doing so well, my love. Your heart is calming down a bit too. Take deep breaths for me, I'll do them with you." He followed my deep breathing techniques, his heart slowed because of it which caused relief to flow through me.

His heart rate became steady enough for my liking. Now that he was more relaxed, it was time to listen to his breathing. I moved the stethoscope down to his ribs to listen to the lung sounds. "A couple more deep breaths for me, sweet boy." He followed my instructions, the crackling in his lungs was still present, but not as prominent as last night.

I took off my stethoscope and put it around my neck. "You're lungs are clearing a bit, which means your condition is definitely improving." I feel his forehead to get a gauge of his temperature. "Your temp is lower too. How's your stomach feeling?"

"A little better than last night, still hurts a bit though." He says while still snuggled in my arms. I nod at his words and lean him onto his back, preparing some medicine for him.

I pour the medicine onto a spoon, he grimaced as he did so. "Alright darling open up" he sighed and reluctantly opened his mouth, accepting the spoonful of medicine. I patted his back to make the consumption of the horrible spoonful more bearable to swallow.

"Good job, Y/N. Are you feeling more relaxed now, my love?" He nods, but unable to talk. "Are you feeling non-verbal?" He nods again. "That's okay, you can sign if you want to. Can I take your blood pressure again?" He nodded and I kissed him on the cheek gently.

"Stick your arm out, my love" he does as he's told and I wrap the cuff around his bicep, making sure it's not too tight. "Does that feel okay?" He gave a thumbs up as response to my question. I put the stethoscope back in my ears, placing the diaphragm on the crook of his elbow where the brachial artery is located. I began squeezing the pump.

I stopped pumping the cuff and listened, his blood pressure had definitely improved. "130/86, better than last night. You're getting better my love" I smile softly and kiss his forehead. A sense of relief washes over Y/N. I put the stethoscope back around my neck and took the cuff off his arm.

"I know you probably won't feel better for atleast a couple days, maybe even a week. But, once you're all better I'll take you anywhere you want. The harvest festival is on soon. I know you don't like crowds but I promise I'll keep you safe and protected. We can get ice cream too" He smiled brightly which I happily reciprocated.

I cupped his face, my thumb rubbing in circles on his cheek. "But, like I said, we can go anywhere you want. My treat for being such a good patient" I open my arms for him rest his head against my chest, he gladly accept my embrace and moved himself to be held in my grasp as I sat on his bedside.

"I love you, Wednesday" He mumbled against my chest.

"I love you too, mi amor. My special boy" I kiss the top of his head and held him tight, not wanting this moment to end.

A/N

Thanks for reading this fic. I know Wednesday is quite out of character here which may be jarring to some people. If you'd like more stories where Wednesday is really gentle only for Y/N, please let me know.

[fruity-mega-coconut69]

Both of Them? Pt. III

[summary]: Wednesday and Enid are not happy while you, Ajax and Yoko are having way too much fun.

[warnings]: swearing

[pairings]: Wenclair x Reader

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Later that day Wednesday and Enid are in the quad, waiting for Ajax and Yoko to arrive.” What exactly are we going to say to them? “ Asked Enid, looking at Wednesday with furrowed eyebrows.

“ We are going to ask them why they had done what they did. “ She answered in a monotone voice, without even taking a glance at Enid. 

Enid looked at her with a frown on her face “ You mean, let Y/N stay at their dorm so she doesn't have to walk home to Jericho in heavy rain? “ She raised her eyebrows at her girlfriend.” Come on, Wednesday! I know that you are upset that she was sleeping in my ex’s clothes and all that stuff. Trust me I am too! But we can’t exactly, just tell them to back off. No one knows that we have feelings for her. “ She whispered the last part so nobody could hear.

Wednesday was about to say something when she saw Yoko and Ajax walking into the quad and towards them. “ Wednesday! Enid! My dear friends, I am so glad to see you both ! “ Yoko tried to cover up the awkwardness with a smile on her face.

“ Stop this bullshit right now. I wanna know what happened last night “ Said Wednesday with her usual glare.

“ Nothing. We just helped your friend. Besides, that’s pretty much all I know. I was at Divinas last night. “ Yoko said as she sat down beside Enid on the edge of the fountain. 

“ You left her alone with Ajax?! “ Enid finally spoke up. Well more like shouted, but yeah. Yoko nodded slowly, not knowing what was wrong with that.

“ Ouch “ Mumbled Ajax under his breath. “ Listen, nothing happened! I had given her my clothes, yes. But that does not mean I tried to get into her pants. “

“ You better not have. Otherwise i—” Enid elbowed her in the side so that she would stop talking.

Ajax huffs then his phone dings, signaling that he has gotten a notification. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and turns it on to see a text from you, asking when you guys are going to meet up. He replies with a quick ‘ We’ll be there in a minute ‘ and puts his phone back away and whispers to Yoko; “ She just texted. We should hurry “ Yoko nods and looks at the couple who is looking at them suspiciously. 

“ Look, we understand your concern for your normie friend, but we really have to go right now. We are meeting up with Divina and Xavier for a double date. “ She smirks at the end of her sentence. Wednesday and Enid looked at Ajax, shocked. He laughed and nodded, quickly grabbing Yoko’s arm and pulling her away after he said a quiet goodbye. 

“ A double date?! Seriously?! “ Ajax exclaimed as they started walking towards the entrance of The Nevermore Academy. “ You couldn’t think of any other excuse? “ 

Yoko laughs and Ajax just stares at her in disbelief. 

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You are waiting in-front of a small restaurant in Jericho, scrolling through your gallery endlessly. Suddenly you hear laughing and look up; seeing Yoko laughing and Ajax walking next to her with a deep frown on his face. As they approach you, you put your phone away and say, “ I- …..have a feeling I don't want to know what is happening. Anyway, I made a table reservation already so..let’s go inside “

You guys go inside and sit at your table “ So, tell us about yourself. “ Says Ajax.

You and Yoko give him the ‘ seriously?’ face and Yoko says, “ You know, most people i know hate small talk, Ajax. So please can you not? “ 

You laugh and then a waitress comes to take your order “ Hey, Y/N! The usual? “ You nod and he turns to Yoko and Ajax “ And what can I get for  you guys? “ 

They quickly order and the waitress walks away. You turn your head to see them staring at you “ What? “ You laugh. 

“ So, you know the waitress? “ Yoko asks as she leans back in her chair; she raises her eyebrows, waiting for you to answer.

“ Well, not exactly, I just come here often. “ You tell them with a smile on your lips, remembering all the memories you have made here. Whether it’d be with friends or alone, it was always an escape from reality. They nod at your answer and Ajax perks up.

“ Hey, next time we can go to a clothes store! “ He says, excited.

“ Are you saying I have a shitty style? “ You ask, faking the offended look on your face. He quickly picked his head up.

“ No ! I-I was ju- “ He stops as he sees both you and Yoko Laughing “ Haha, real funny. “

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That night, you were getting ready for bed when you heard your phone ding on your desk. You go up to it and pick your phone up, seeing a text from you, Enid and Wednesday’s group chat.

You open it up and read it. It says; ‘ HI, Y/N! Wanna hang out with us tomorrow?’ You smile at the text before answering; ‘ Yeah, sure. When? ‘

This time it was Wednesday who texted, ‘ Around 3 pm? ‘ You frown as you look at the text, realizing that you still have classes at 3 pm tomorrow; ‘ Shit. That’s not good for me. How about 5 pm? ‘ within seconds you see agreeing emoji’s on your screen.

You put down your phone and walk over to you bed, glad that you are finally in your own one. 

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A/N: that's it for today, guy's! Hope you liked it.

[tiny-puppy-dog]

Yk what? I like you *regresses your avantris*

Torbek:

-Very shy when regressed, tends to keep to himself out of anxiety

-When he is being watched he's very cuddly, always snuggling and babbling softly

-Regresses 7-2 years old, all depends on his mood

-Frost and Gricko are main caretakers, Gricko more so bit Frost helps with more serious stuff

-has a sewn teddy bear that he carries everywhere him, their name is stitches

-shy around Kremy and Gideon, continues to call Kremy "mr Kremy"

-Tries to make himself look smaller when cuddling

-Loves Gricko's jokes and games

-Loves when Frost reads to him

Skrimm:

-Regresses 6-2 years old

-Taishen will sometimes regress with him

-Loves to cuddle and be near someone at all times, velcro baby

-Very jittery and fidgety, has to have something to bite because of this

-Liked to climb and hide in certain places, loves small places

-Has a stuffed animal that Taishen had (horribly) sewn together, loves it endlessly

-Likes to hang onto Barnabos and Jornir's backs a lot, has a makeshift sling because of this

-Likes to play with Queenie's hair, his favorite thing to do is braid it

-Has a bunch of wooden toys and blocks that were gifted to him

Jericho:

-Very quiet when regressed, hums songs to himself

-Likes to be near Lethica a lot, she makes him feel safe

-Very prone to nightmares and night terrors, can't sleep alone

-Doesn't own a stuffed animal but does own a blanket he can't sleep without

-Likes to be outside when regressed, likes the feel of the air

-Likes to be near Briggsy, Briggsy doesn't understand and tends to mess up a lot but he tries

-Marius also doesn't understand but he certainly tries

-A very sweet baby, regresses to about 4 usually

Grumley(With a hint of Booker):

-Peggy surprisingly knows how to handle little Grumley, she claims to have experience

-Regresses to about 3-5 usually

-Booker doesn't understand how to help him or take care of him and ends up regressing himself

-Peggy watches over them both

-Bitsy isn't allowed near them, she will make them cry

-Hazel doesn't fully understand how to help but likes to play games with him

-Loves cuddle piles with everyone, makes him happy

-His favorite name is little pup, makes him feel small

[ijustwanttobeavoid]

EOM Headcannons

Marius would love Oliva Rodrigos song 'Vampire'. Do i think he would actually listen to it no, but damn it would be funny if he did.

Farryn would like Ashniko, and also Florence Welsh

Jericho would love Hoizer and Noah Kahan

none of these motherfuckers can cook. Lethica and Yorgrim might know some basic stuff but that's about it.

Farryn thinks shes a great cook and she is just only for herself and maybe Jericho

Lethica loves skincare. she has so many creams and serums in Bag, how else would her skin look that flawless after wearing a mask 24/7.

Yorgrim gives the best cuddles enough said

When Yorgrim and Briggsy are hanging out alone they end up canceling out whatever braincells they have. So they end up doing a bunch of stupid shit together. like Briggsy would make a bet that Yorgrim cant pick up the couch with Marius sleeping on it and Yorgrim would 100% take that bet

[rattlyglitch]

The Horrors in Yer Sleep

Jericho was cursed by a witch as he traveled with his friends and has been having nightmares for weeks. Most of them ending with his friends life gone in his hands. (I just finished episode six of edge of midnight hope I got the characters right)

Work Text:

Jericho didn’t think he would ever truly have the chance to be brave. He thought he would always be with his best gals and doing their bidding until he could no longer function. He was being brave as he journeyed with his friends to destroy Mother Midnight and her daughters.

He was brave when defending his friends and helping them as well. Now though Jericho was trying to be brave after he had been stuck by a curse. The curse wasn’t terrible. It didn’t separate him from his friends or give him another demon on his shoulder. Instead it gave him nightmares.

The nightmares occurred every time he slept. They seemed to ease up if he slept near the others, only causing Jericho to wake up gasping but unaware of what he had dreamed of. But when he stayed in a room alone they haunted him. Dreams would go from peaceful to horrifying within moments.

The only ‘good ones’ were the dreams where Jericho was with his best gals, working for them, while the friends he had gained had no memories of him. As they passed by the fields wandered in he would yell and try to see if they had any memories of him at all or even if they remembered Virgil. All it ended in was their confused voices and disgusted faces engraved into his mind before the hags dragged him back to their hut.

The worst dreams were the ones where Virgil took over and he killed some of his friends and led the others to his best gals. Those nights Jericho awoke screaming and grateful that no one heard him. He may not be able to cry but it didn’t mean a scarecrow couldn’t sob muffling the noise with his pillow and hoping to be unheard since his screams seemed to be able to be ignored.

A part of Jericho wondered if maybe part of the curse cast upon him was that no one was to notice his agony. It seemed that the group wasn’t troubled by his night terrors or had noticed them. Virgil had told him multiple times that it was because they didn't care but Jericho wondered if he wasn't screaming. Maybe he was simply awakening and yelling silently in terror. The dreams were staring to get to Jericho.

There were times that he would look at his friends and they would look as horrific as they had in his dreams but in the blink of an eye they would return to normal. He wondered if they ever saw a look of horror on his face. Sometimes their faces seemed to flash a look of confusion or hurt before he turned away from them. It had been a month since the night terrors started. The group was camping out under the star filled sky and it had already been chosen who would keep watch while the others slept.

Jericho wasn't on watch for the night Farryn, Marius, and Briggsy would be on watch. Jericho could only take over watch the whole night as they traveled on the road for so long before his friends said he needed rest. The whispers Virgil gave that they wanted him to sleep so he would be more defenseless because they were afraid of him didn't help Jericho feel any better about sleeping.

Sleep overcame Jericho easily but just as easily as sleep had come upon him had the night terrors begun. There wasn't any happy beginning when the terrors started. They always seemed to start off peacefully as far as Jericho could remember but then slowly the darkness of the night terrors began to creep in and it changed from day to night and then would Jericho be left to watch the horrors that he caused or the helplessness as he went back to his best gals.

As soon as he fell asleep though immediately he was thrown into a dream of a dark forest. The only reason he realized he was in a forest was because his hand brushed against a plant as he walked in darkness that kept him from seeing his own body. Jericho felt a hand suddenly slip into his own and saw Farynn next to him. He was so relieved to see one of his friends. Something was wrong though. Farryn had a look of terror on her face as she looked up at him.

"Jericho please I'm sorry. Please Jericho let me go." Jericho tried to release Farryn's hand but it seemed to tighten every time he tried to release it. Soon it was so tight Farryn's hand seemed to be twisted in an unnatural way. Farryn was strong and Jericho had only see her cry once since their journey and that was after she had a nightmare. Now though she was biting her lip and trying to hold back sobs.

Jericho tried to move away but instead his dream self made Farynn face him before he thrust his wooden hand through Farryn. Nothing held him back from using his arm to impale her. Farryn coughed up blood before she looked up at Jericho with hurt and fear, her mouth agape and tears streaming down her face. Suddenly she fell to the ground and began screaming, her words warped and soon changing to his name as she whispered softly and Jericho felt himself shaking.

"Jericho? Jericho. Jericho!"

The scarecrow suddenly awoke with a jerk and saw Farryn looking down at him, her hands gripping his arms as slowly she stopped shaking him. Slowly Farryn let go of Jericho and backed away allowing him to sit up. He looked around and gratefully saw that no one else had awoken. Jericho wrapped his arms around himself trying to hug away the terror he still felt from the nightmare he had.

Farryn was silent for a few moments allowing Jericho to gather his thoughts before she spoke. "Jericho, are ya ok?" Jericho slowly and unhappily released his arms from around himself and gave her a shaky smile. "I'm alrigh' Ms.Farryn. Jus' had a bad dream is all. S'rry if I frightened ya." Farryn still looked worried but didn't try to push Jericho to speak much more.

"It's alright Jericho. I wanted to make sure ya were ok. You were shaking and it looked like whatever dream ya had was troubling." Farryn looked as if she wanted to speak more of what she had seen but was hesitant to.

"Can I stay up with ya Ms.Farryn? Just for a bit? I promise not to bother."

Farryn had no qualms about Jericho doing so and allowed him to join her as she stared into the forest as if daring something to emerge from it. Jericho stayed awake for as long as possible but it wasn't long before he fell asleep. This time Jericho was in fields.

They weren't the fields he had lived in but something nicer. They felt kind and comforting as he walked amongst the what and corn stalks with Virgil nowhere in sight. He ran through the fields of crops happily and comforted by the daylights sun as he felt it against himself letting off a warm glow that shined upon him. Soon the sun left Jericho and he was under a cold moon that seemed to light up the field in a mystical glow.

The happiness seemed to have left the field now and it seemed to become towering. Sounds came from within it that field and the howl of something seemed to almost come from inside it. Suddenly something was circling Jericho. At several moments it slashed at him and his clothes gained large gashes every time the being slashed and soon he only had tatters of his coat sleeves hanging on.

The being then lunged at Jericho over the stalks and he saw Marius. The dhampir seemed to have a dark look in his eyes. It was the same as when he had entered the blood lake back at the crooked house they had first come across. He grabbed Jericho's arms and started to slash at him. The sound of his armored hands against the metal and wood of Jericho sounded sickening as it broke and scraped.

Jericho tried to call out to Marius. Tried to get him to at least bring back some humility in his eyes as he pleaded. "Sir Marius please. It's me Jericho. I don' wanna hurt ya please." His pleas fell in deaf ears. Suddenly Jericho felt something dark overcome him. He wasn't sure what happened but suddenly he was gripping Marius by his neck and holding up the dhampirh's grip becoming tighter with every second.

Marius seemed to come back to himself as Jericho held him. Marius began to kick and struggle trying to get Jericho's hand off of his neck as it became tighter. Jericho felt powerless to do anything. He couldn't feel anything in his body. He knew Virgil couldn't have taken over him because Jericho was rarely ever aware and able to see what was happening when he did. So what controlled him now. Was it witches or even Mother Midnight herself?

A sudden crack brought Jericho out of his thoughts and he saw Marius had went still in his hand, his body now dangling where once it had been thrashing with life was now limp with death. The body took ahold of Jericho's shoulder suddenly. It almost seemed as if it was trying to comfort him. Jericho dropped it immediately and scrambled to get away from it suddenly he tripped and as Jericho hit the ground he awoke in Marius's arms who was trying to keep Jerichp from going into the woods. It seemed as if he had been sleepwalking. Marius held the same worried that Farryn did.

"Are you ok Jericho? Is something wrong?" Jericho shook his head no. "Nothin's wrong Sir Marius. Jus' had a dream is all. I-I'll lay back down." Marius placed his hand on Jericho's shoulder before he had a chance to move. "Are you sure you're ok? You had your grip so tight on your arm I believe I heard it crack and I heard you say my name." Jericho looked at his arm and moved it a bit. The wooden limb still seemed to be attached. "I'm sure Sir Marius. All my limbs are attached it seems. Sorry to disturb you."

Jericho laid down and tried to fall back asleep. Jericho felt Marius pat his shoulder before he fell back into his dreams. For a moment he had no dreams his sleep was empty of anything good or bad. Slowly though as if he was watching an illusion he found himself in a swamp. His knees were sunk into the mud that surrounded the swamp. He managed to be able to get out of his but as he walked he still seemed to continue to sink into the swamp. The mud almost seemed determined to try and drag him down.

He came to a clearing though that led out to an ocean. The moon was round and seemed to paint the water like a picture causing the surface to almost look like there was a magic shine to it. Jericho walked into the waters to clean the mud and muck off of him even though it only caused the sand that was on the ocean's shore to stick to him. A pirate ship seemed to approach the ocean side and from it Jericho saw Briggsy.

He docked his ship somewhere in the ocean and one the ship was secure jumped into the water and began to swim over to Jericho. Once he arrived it looked as if Briggsy was saying something to him but no noise came out. Jericho understood the message though once Briggsy splashed him with water. Jericho splashed back and soon a full water battle had begun.

They were splashing each other and swimming around having a good old time. That was until Jericho touched Briggsy's shoulder. Something in both he and Briggsy changed. They suddenly began to attack each other. Jericho unable to control his body and Briggsy seeming to be in a blind rage. In the end Jericho was tattered but still standing while Briggsy was laid out everywhere across the sand.

The top of his skull was near Jericho's foot laying on its side. Briggsy's bottom jaw bone was detached and thrown somewhere absentmindedly no doubt. The eye that faced Jericho held anger and hatred writhing it. But below it was fear. The same fear demonstrated by his friends in his earlier dreams. The same fear Jericho himself was terrified of his friends looking at him with. The eye continued to bore into Jericho's shoulder as his foot crushed Briggsy's head before he jolted awake.

Jericho checked to make sure he hadn't awoken anyone and as it seemed they were all asleep. Briggsy was on watch now and seemed to be eyeing Jericho. He wasn't being mean in any sense simply looking to see what was wrong most likely. It didn't help Jericho not to wilt in on himself, his hands gripping his arms as he tried to keep calm. Slowly Jericho laid on the ground huddled into a ball trying to stay awake but squeezing his eyes shut.

Briggsy must have went over to check on him thinking he was asleep because Jericho heard the lizardfolk walk over to him and pat the scarecrows shoulder before walking away. For the rest of the night and the first time in weeks Jericho fell into a true dreamless sleep. When he awoke the next morning Jericho heard the others talking. For a moment he wasn't sure what they were saying but as he woke up more he was able to hear them.

"-kept wakin' up from nightmares. I think maybe somethin' is happenin' that he just hasn't brought up yet. Maybe Virgil has somethin' to do with it?" Jericho sat up accidentally bringing the others attention to him. "M-mornin'" Jericho stuttered out a apologetic expression on his face. "S-sorry if I disturbed the conversation y'all were havin' jus' now."

"It is alright Jericho. You haven't disturbed anything. We had a question for you actually. Come join us please." Marius moved over some and motioned for Jericho to sit next to him. The scarecrow did as Marius asked and carefully sat next to the paladin. Once he seemed settled Lethica was the first to speak.

"Jericho it has been brought to our attention that you seem to be having some kind of maybe night terrors. We wonder if something by chance happened to you." The others seemed to patiently wait for Jericho to answer. "Y-yeah. Somethin' did happen. It was with that w-witch we encountered those weeks ago. She placed some kinda curse on me. I-I think it's the dreams. I can't stop havin' nightmares."

Yorgrim raised a brow. "Have you been awake then since you awoke while Briggsy was on guard?" Jericho shook his head no. "I was for a bit but I fell asleep. The nightmares haven' left me since awhile but after the third they were gone." Jericho wrapped his arms around himself as he thought. "I didn' dream but tha' means I didn' hurt you in them either. I've always been hurtin' someone in ma dreams unless their the good ones. Y'all didn't remember me an I went back to the hags but ya weren't hurt."

Jericho gave a sad smile. "Y-y'all weren't hurt." Jericho tried to keep quiet but let out a sob. Soon more sobs followed and Jericho was crying dryly. Lethica wrapped and scarecrow in a hug rubbing his back gently as he cried. "We'll figure this out Jericho" she tried to reassure.

"I promise."

[v3nusxsky]

So I’m like severely sick rn, with a cough, fever, allergies and all the types of bodily pain you can think of.

Would you be so kind as to write a cute little Larissa x reader sick fic? Full creatives rights to you, write what comes to you and what you like. Thank you, darling:)<3

-comet ☄️

Sweet thing

*authors note~ I’m so sorry you’re sick lovely, I know this is a bit late but I hope this is okay? Taking an kinktober break to post this! Next instalment of kink is coming to a screen near you soon ;) Can always pop me a message and tell me anything you wanna change or add! It was written on a train so it sort of inspired this :)*

Trigger warnings~ little r cg Larissa anxiety brought on by trains illness fever sickness headaches just generally feeling crap ?? Probably more tbh😂

Prompt~see ask^^^

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You knew you felt like shit today, it hit you as soon as you were awake, coughs wracking through your body as if it was nothing more than a meet bowling pin. The headache you went to bed with was never quite leaving you. In fact it seemed to have rested and come back with a vengeance, and of course it was the one day you couldn’t deal with this. You are meant to catch a train a little before two thirty to travel to Jericho and see your girlfriend for the month. Having time off from your school due to some building work gave you the perfect opportunity to discuss your idea of moving to Nevermore to teach with the blonde principal. You were more on edge as you knew the last “Normie” teacher the school had almost tried to kill your lover, but not being with her all the time kills you. Yet this sickness seemed to have other ideas for you.

Deciding you had some time you attempted to sleep off the worst of this sickness before dosing your self up on pain medicine and dragging yourself to the train station. Only this time when you awoke, your whole body ached, your eyes leaking moisture, nose running like a tap and this ungodly cold sensation all over your body. Instinctively, you wanted to borrow under the blankets and sleep for eternity but you simply didn't have the time for that. So instead, you hauled yourself out of bed, shoving on the comfiest pair of clothes you could find before readying your tired body to leave your room.

Rushing to the train station was all blur, but some how you made it and you couldn't be more grateful that you managed to secure a seat before the train got to busy. By the first stop, the train had began to pack up and in the sick haze you swore your heart was beating so fast it could be considered a rocket with the speed it was trying to take off with. your right leg began to bounce as you felt eyes on you from every direction of the train carriage. Paranoia seeped into your bones as you felt as if you'd been dunked into flames judging by the now uncomfortable heat spreading over your skin. The earbuds you strategically place in your ears to dull the noise now seemed to be failing as your head felt ready to explode. As soon as you heard your stop being announced you could've cried with joy as you escaped the train, promising yourself that you would never put yourself through that anxiety educing activity again. Especially not alone.

The taxis for Jericho are far and few between, in fact there is not any. so you enlisted the help of Nevermore's very own troublesome raven haired student and her werewolf girlfriend. It turned out to be brilliant timing as some of the Nevermore students happened to be in Jericho shopping for the raven, so you were able to sneak onto the shuttle using your abilities to help you blend in with the other students. Thankfully Coach Vald wasn't too observant otherwise he would've surly notice the sick teenager sat between Wednesday and Eind, who clearly wasn't there before.

Arriving at Nevermore took your breath away every time, yet this time it could be argued that it was the cough that was trying to force itself free from your chest that did it. With a quick thank you to the girls and reassurance that Wednesday, Enid's and things skills your luggage would make its way to the Principles office you slipped off to find your lover. As you walked the halls of Nevermore your body was slowly giving up, the pain overwhelming you, the fever causing you to shift into a much younger version of yourself. The need to find the Principal was now at an all new high, luckily she found your things before she found you. You'd have to thank Enid for spilling what was meant to be a surprise when you felt better.

"Hello love bug" you heard from down the hall. Your momma. once you turned to face her she could see just what Enid had described. you were really sick and yet somehow made your way to Nevermore to surprise the blonde. You must have told her a later train time in hopes to surprise her. Rather adorable, but she would have to remind you that you need too look after your health when you felt better. "Momma, no feel goods" you whimpered before your little body gave out and made friends with the floor.

Scooping you up of the floor and cradling your small frame to her chest, she could feel the heat radiating from you, yet shivers racked your frame as if it was winter weather. She immediately took you back to her private chambers where she could care for you more discreetly. Being placed on her bed, you immediately wriggled over to burrow your face in her pillow before snuggling into her blankets. With a small chuckle, the blonde gently rouses you to give medicine and cool your temperature down. "No Momma, no more" you whined trying to wriggle away as much as your weak body would allow you to. "I know little love, but we have to get you feeling better don't we?" to which you nodded and reached out for the older woman to hold you. Only when you were wrapped in her arms did you feel better, "magical nuggles momma" you yawned causing a huge smile for the Principal of Nevermore, the amount of love you brought her was magical. "Only for you my love, can you tell momma how you got here when you are feeling so icky darling?"

You sleepily recounted how you made your way to Nevermore and the reason why you were so determined to get to her. Even when you were this sick, Larissa was all you could think about and need. "Wanna live momma ever an ever" you mumbled before the medicine knocked you out, snuggled onto the principals chest, your home and safe space. Larissa held you while you slept wondering how she could reprimand for needing her? she just couldn't but if you lived and worked in Nevermore then she could most definitely keep an eye on you.

Word count 1159

[nikimisery]

Supernatural Season 1 Episode 1: Pilot

Pairings: Dean Winchester x OC (eventual)

Tags/Warnings: Cussing

All Freya had known, her entire life was pain, in one shape or another. Physical pain, from all the days spent in the foster care system, emotional pain from the death of her parents and older brother… She carried her scars like badges of honor. She had known right from the start that she wasn’t like the other kids. Sometimes, when she got angry, her fingernails got really sharp, or sometimes, if she clenched a glass just a little too tightly, it would shatter. She could hear the conversations of her neighbors four houses down, she could smell the chocolate bar, still in the wrapper, in the pocket of her jacket downstairs, and she could see in the dark, just as well as she could see during the daylight, but she never knew why. Her parents and older brother had been killed when she was five. The only thing she still had from them was her mother’s journal. It didn’t give her a lot of information on who or what she was, but she did learn all about everything that goes bump in the night. Ghosts? Easy, salt and burn them, baby! Demons? Holy water and exorcisms. But there was one thing in her journal that didn’t make sense. The name John Winchester, a phone number, and the simple phrase that says, “Freya, find him.” So when she turned 18 and she was turned out of the foster care system, she decided to start looking for him. She wouldn’t find him until five years later, completely by accident, when she was trying to catch a few hours of sleep on a small bridge on the way out of a small town called Jericho, California.

Laying on this bridge to try and catch some sleep was, admittingly, not one of my best ideas, but maybe if I positioned myself under the railing, just right, I could, maybe, get a little shelter from the cold. However, the bolts from the old wooden planks were digging into my back and the creaking metal was so loud in my ears, it was probably going to be impossible to get any sleep. It was better than my other options though. I wasn’t going to sleep down by the river, it was too cold, not to mention the smell of absolute shit that was wafting off of the water that made my eyes sting and I wasn’t even down there by it! Couldn’t sleep in town, the cops there had already warned me off. Couldn’t have ‘vagabonds’ littering the town square, even if they were ‘easy on the eyes’ as Officer Jaffe had so nicely put it, so this was my only option. I would get a few hours of sleep, then move on to the next town. I had heard rumors of a Winchester being in the area, and I could only hope it was the one from my mom’s journal. 

I had just started to nod off when I saw the headlights, blinding me, even with my eyes closed. Sometimes the heightened senses really pissed me off. It took me a couple of seconds for my eyes to adjust after the lights hit my eyes, but I saw a man coming around the front of a black 1983 Sierra. Tall, broad shoulders, salt and pepper hair… overall not bad on the eyes. 

“You okay, kid?” he asked me.

“Ummm, yeah. Just trying to lay down for a few minutes.” I said wearily. I didn’t know this guy, and while I was fairly confident that I could take him in a fight if it came down to it, I was just so tired. I just wanted to sleep and be left alone.

“Where are your parents?” 

“Dead.” I replied bluntly. 

“You got anywhere to sleep tonight out of the cold?” 

“Right here…” I said quietly. 

“What’s your name, kid?” He asked me, kindly.

“Freya.” 

“You got a last name, Freya?” 

“Do you?”

“That’s fair. If I told you my name, would you let me get you some food? Maybe a pillow?” 

“It’s possible.” I replied, again wary of this stranger. He didn’t smell off, each person had their own unique scent, I had noticed, demons smelled like rotting eggs, regardless of their host, so I knew he wasn’t one. He smelled like engine oil and freshly cut grass. It was a weird combination, but it worked for him. He reminded me of my dad a little. 

“My name is John. John Winchester.” As soon as the words left his mouth, I could feel myself freezing. This was it. This was the man I had been looking for. Holy shit, how lucky could I get?

“Winchester? I’ve been looking for you.” It was his turn to look a little wary, at that. “My mom’s journal. She wrote in there, your name and the sentence ‘find him’.” I told him.

“What is your last name kid,” He asked me.

“Ashford.” 

“Get in the truck, kid. Looks like we have a lot to talk about.” He said simply, turning on his heel and getting back in his truck. Getting up off the ground, I grabbed my backpack that I was using as a pillow, dusted myself off and walked over to the passenger side of the truck. 

“This is an ’83, right? My dad had one almost just like it, before he died.” I said to him. 

“You know cars?” he asked me

“My dad was a mechanic. I may have only had five years with him, but I remember how much he loved them. I’ve tried to teach myself as much as I can. I’d hope he would be proud of that much, at least.” I answered him honestly. 

“Your dad was a good man. I knew them both, your mom and your dad. They were good people.” 

“You knew them? Then, maybe…” I trailed off. How the hell was I going to ask this dude I just met if he knew what I was? He knew my parents, maybe he knew what they were, or he knew nothing and would think I was crazy and there would go my dinner and a warm bed. 

“Maybe, what?” he pressed.

“Nothing, it’s stupid.” 

“No, go ahead.” 

“You’ll think it’s crazy.” I said. He kind of chuckled to himself at that, shaking his head a little. 

“You’d be surprised. Try me.” Thinking about it for a few more seconds, I considered my options. At this point in my life, what did I have to lose? We had just pulled into a cheap motel parking lot and he killed the truck as he turned to me, waiting on my response. Taking a deep breath, I decided to try my luck. 

“Do you know what I am?” I asked him quietly. He regarded me for a moment, just looking over my face, while he thought about his answer. 

“Lets go inside and we can talk about this more, where it’s a little more comfortable.” He said, as he opened the door, grabbing his coat. “And warm.” He added. Nodding, I got out of the truck, grabbing my bag and following him inside. 

Stepping into the room, I realized when I looked around at the news articles covering the walls, that this dude might actually be able to help me. This looked a lot like the stuff in my moms journal, so that made me feel a lot better about being here and trusting him, just a little.

I didn’t know how long it had been since John had left me here in this motel room. After our talk, he ran out to get us something to eat. After we ate, he told me to take a shower, gave me one of his shirts and told me to get some sleep. He had talked to me about this case he was working on, a ghost who was killing men out on the old highway. But he had left a couple of days ago to talk to the husband, giving me strict instructions to stay here “until I come get you” and I haven’t seen him since. I knew it had to be at least 3 days, but I had slept a lot, seeing as how this was the first time I had gotten to sleep in an actual bed and wasn’t running for my life. I took full advantage of it, but at this point, I was drinking water out of the sink, seeing as how I ran out of the water in the bottles yesterday. 

“Where are you John?” I thought out loud to myself. “Great. Now I’m talking to myself… and I’m answering myself… Jesus Christ, I need help.” I paced for a bit, my legs were getting a bit stiff sitting on the bed the whole time. It was getting close to dark at this point. The tv was on in the background, giving me something to listen to so I didn’t go completely crazy, but there was only so much daytime tv that I could watch without going absolutely crazy. I had just settled back down on the bed, tv remote in hand, when I heard the door handle rattling. John had a key, that wasn’t the sound of someone unlocking the door with a room key, that was the sound of someone trying to pick the lock. “Fuck.” I swore to myself. I quickly shut the TV off and looked around. Under the bed might work, but it would take too long, they are almost in. Small closet by the bathroom door? Better than nothing. Fear crept into the back of my mind as I threw myself into that small closet and closed the door, just in time too, as the front door opened and I could hear two sets of footprints coming in the room. I couldn’t see much out of the crack in the door, but I could smell them. One of them smelled like opening up my favorite book, that clean scent of paper, and coffee. Weird combination, but hey, whatever works, right? The second person? He smelled like the river, covered in shit. I couldn’t get a read on his personal scent, because that was so overpowering. It was nauseating, honestly. How anyone could stand to stay like that was beyond her, but hey, who was she to judge? She didn’t even have a place to shower, she couldn’t talk much. 

“Whoa.” Coffee smell said. I could tell it was him, his voice sounded further away, and the strong smell of that river water shit was closer to the closet door. I could hear them walking around the room, then the click of the lamp by the bed. 

“I don’t think he’s been here for a couple days, at least.” Said shit smell. He did have a REALLY nice sounding voice. Gruff, deep, sexy…. I could listen to that all day, I won’t lie. 

“Salt, cats-eye shells… he was worried. Trying to keep something from coming in.” Said coffee. “What have you got here?” I could hear his footsteps moving closer to the second voice. 

“Centennial Highway victims. I don’t get it. I mean, different men, different jobs, ages, ethnicities. There’s always a connection, right? What do these guys have in common?” 

They had to be talking about the case John was working on, which means they haven’t figured out what is going on. Woman in white. That’s what John had said anyways, she didn’t exactly know what it was, but he said it shouldn’t be an issue to deal with. 

“Dad figured it out.” Coffee said. Dad? John’s kids? She had seen the picture on the mirror he had out, two boys, a long time ago, on the hood of a beautiful impala. Could these be those boys? 

“What do you mean?” 

“He found the same article we did. Constance Welch. She’s a woman in white.” 

“You sly dogs.” Shit smell said. “All right, so if we’re dealing with a woman in white, Dad would have found the corpse and destroyed it.” Destroyed it? Right, salt and burned it. That would mean that a woman in white was a ghost. Okay, I can work with that. 

“She might have another weakness.” 

“Well, Dad would want to make sure. He’d dig her up. Does it say where she’s buried?” Ohhhhhh I knew that one! John had mentioned it was behind her old house! 

“No, not that I can tell. If I were Dad, though, I’d go ask her husband. If he’s still alive.” Husband. Right. Joseph Welch. He was still alive. She even remembered the address John had said he was living at now. 

“All right. Why don’t you, uh, see if you can find an address, I’m gonna go get cleaned up.” Oh thank god. She wasn’t sure she could handle that smell much longer. 

“Hey, Dean?” Said Coffee smell. Dean. The name attached to shit smell. I rolled the name around in my head a bit. Dean Winchester. I liked that name, probably a little more than I should. “What I said earlier, about Mom and Dad, I’m sorry.” 

“No chick-flick moments.” Said Dean. Coffee smell let out a little laugh at that, even she was shanking her head with a smile. She liked him. 

“All right. Jerk.” 

“Bitch.” 

Hearing another small laugh, then the door to the bathroom opened and closed, which stirred up some of the dust in the small closet from under the door. Oh fuck. No…. not right now… please….. I do NOT need to sneeze. I heard the water turn on in the shower, and I tried to think about strawberries, blueberries, anything to keep this stupid sneeze in. But no, this time, luck was not on her side. 

“Achoo! Dammit!” 

Fuck. I closed my eyes, holding my hand up to my mouth, fear was really pushing at the front of my brain. I’m pretty sure these are John’s boys, but fucking hell, I didn’t know them. What if they tried to kill me? John had said that I needed to be careful, hunters out there wouldn’t stop to ask questions, they would try to kill me for being different. If I got caught, he was going to be so mad at me. Just when I finally found him, finally getting the help I needed to figure myself out, he was going to leave me… 

The door jerked open a few seconds later and I couldn’t help but let out a little scream-squeak thing. 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please, don’t hurt me!” I said as quickly as I could. I had ducked my head and covered it with my arms. I would rather my arms take the brunt of the impacts than my head. I healed quickly, but the head always hurt the worst. 

“I’m not going to hurt you. Take a deep breath. Can you come out? Maybe we could talk? And you could tell me why you’re hiding in my dad’s motel room closet?” He said softly, adding a little chuckle at the end of his words. 

“John is your dad?” I asked him. No harm in making sure, right?

“Yeah, my name is Sam. Can you tell me your name?” He asked me. Sam Winchester, nice name. Since he’s John’s son, maybe he won’t be so angry that I am speaking to him…

“Freya. My name is Freya.” I said quietly. Past experiences have proven that I should stay quiet and unseen. Logically, I knew that I was stronger than him. I could very easily overpower him, but I couldn’t get past the fear that was still there, and I think he could tell, no matter how hard I tried to hide it. I looked up at him, noticing the shaggy hair. He was tall, really tall, his head reaching past the doorway to the closet. He was cute, with hazel eyes, long brown hair, and a big heavy jacket. 

“Would you like to come out of there, Freya? It can’t be too comfortable.” He asked me. Honestly, what’s the worst that’s going to happen? Lead pipe to the head again? Been there, done that, plus there wasn’t anything in the room that he could use that would hurt me too bad, so maybe it would be okay. But then remembering there was a second one, Dean, I glanced over at the bathroom door, thinking. Two of them might actually be able to overpower me. I don’t really know how strong I am. Is it worth the risk? “I promise I’m not going to hurt you.” Sam says. “And neither will my brother.” So he did notice my glance, my fear. Great. Not a good first impression. Fuck it. I can do this, plus, I’m not really seeing any other options. So I reached up and very slowly put my hand in his outstretched one. He smiled at me a little bit as he was helping me out of the closet, he seemed to be trying to put me at ease and the only thing I could smell coming off of him was confusion and curiosity, so maybe I’m safe. Climbing out of the closet, he led me over to the bed so I could sit down, and at that exact moment, the bathroom door opens and out comes a bunch of steam, and a shirtless Dean Winchester. Holy shit, I’m pretty sure I forgot to breathe for a second. Short, dark blonde, almost brunette hair, piercing green eyes, not quite as tall as Sam, but he was still pretty tall. At 5’5, I wasn’t exactly a basketball player, so they both easily towered over me. Broad shoulders, small scars scattered across his chest and stomach. He had a towel in his hand, running it over his short hair. A couple of drops of water he missed escaped down his neck to run down his chest and I found myself following their path with my eyes. 

“Ummm… Hi? Who are you?” He asked me, breaking me out of my stupid little day dream. “Who is she? Getting the party started a little early there, Sammy? Don’t you have a girlfriend?” He turned to Sam before I had the chance to answer. My brain was still a little foggy from the vision that was Dean Winchester, so the statement didn’t fully register at first. 

“Don’t be an ass, Dean.” He gave his brother a look. “I found her hiding in the closet.” He pointed to the door by the bathroom as he spoke. 

“Hiding… in the closet… of dad’s motel room? That’s not creepy, at all.” He says, rolling his eyes. 

“Well, if you could maybe not be a jerk for the next few minutes, I was just about to ask why.” Sam replied as he turned back to me. Next thing I know, both brothers are staring at me, but feeling the weight of their stares, I lowered my head, looking at the floor. Quiet and unseen. Quiet and unseen. I kept repeating it to myself. 

“He told me I wasn’t allowed to talk to anyone else, I’m not sure…” I trailed off. I could hear Dean sign, but it was Sam who spoke up.

“John, our dad, is missing and maybe if you could help us, tell us why you’re with him, it could help us find him.” His words caused a snort to leave my lips. Super attractive, Freya. 

“I highly doubt that, he told me he was going to ask some questions and to stay here. I only met him about two weeks ago. He said I needed to stay in the room and not talk to anyone else. He hasn’t been here in about three or four days, I think… I slept a lot, I’m sorry…” I trailed off again. This time it was Dean who spoke up. I still couldn’t make myself look up at them. 

“What’s your name?” He asked her

“Freya.” Still speaking quietly. 

“Freya,” He started. He was speaking softly, matching her tone. She loved the way his voice curled around her name. She wanted to hear him say it again. “Could you look at me?” He requested. Slowly I raised my head and the moment my eyes locked on his, it was like all the breath had been knocked out of my body. I couldn’t breathe. He even staggered back a couple of steps, his breathing becoming uneven. I felt like I had lived an entire lifetime in the few seconds I had looked into his eyes. The spell was soon broken when Sam moved the chair in the corner, catching it on the leg of the desk it was under. “Our dad is missing, he left me a voicemail, telling me that we were all in danger, and now we can’t find him. Even if you don’t think it would help us find him, maybe you could still tell us why you’re with him and maybe, we could help each other.” I couldn’t help but keep looking at his eyes, and the longer I stared, the more I could feel the tension slowly leaving my shoulders. Sighing, I realized, I didn’t really have anything to lose by telling them. If John was really missing, that meant that I was alone again. 

“I met your dad on the bridge out of town. It was dark and he was out looking for Constance.” I said, pointing at the article of said ghost. “Her husband is still alive, by the way, and she’s buried out behind her old house. Your dad mentioned it before he left.” I paused to take another deep breath before continuing. “I was trying to get some sleep, I hadn’t been there for very long when he pulled up and found me. Honestly I had been looking for him, so it was nothing short of a stroke of luck that he drove up on that bridge. He asked me what I was doing there, and why I wasn’t at home. I told him the same thing I’m about to tell you. My mom and dad both died when I was a baby, I bounced around from foster home to foster home my whole life and when I turned 18, I was turned out and left on my own, I don’t have a home. So then he asked me what my name was and when I told him, he asked me if I would like somewhere to stay out of the cold for the night.” This time, when I paused, emotions were swirling in my head, I could feel my body shuddering as I took another breath. “When he told me his name, I couldn’t believe it. My mom’s journal said I needed to find him, and I had been searching for him for five years, so imagine my surprise.” I said with a small chuckle. “He said he could help me.” 

“Help you with what?” Sam asked. Glancing between the boys, I had the fleeting thought, what if they are like the hunters John had warned me about? Would they try to kill me? I think they could see the fear on my face because Dean spoke up not long after.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, you don’t have to be scared of us.” He said. I could feel the blush hit my cheeks as soon as the nickname was out of his mouth. I had hoped that maybe he hadn’t noticed, but the smirk on his face said otherwise.

“I asked him if he could help me figure out what I was…” I heard Dean’s sharp inhale as soon as the words left my mouth, I could see his body tensing out of the corner of my eye. 

“What do you mean, what you are?” Sam asked me. Looking back and forth between the brothers again, I could feel my anxiety rising. My eyes caught Dean’s as he simply gave me a small nod to continue.

“My parents and older brother died when I was five, in a car wreck. I didn’t get the chance to really know my family, so I have had no one to walk me through whatever is going on with me. My whole life, I’ve been able to hear things I shouldn’t, smell things, see better than all of the other kids in the foster home, I’m stronger than anyone else I’ve ever met, you can cut me and in the next few minutes it will be like it was never there. Sometimes, when I get really scared, my body changes. I don’t know why. I don’t know anything about my family. He said he knew my parents…” I trailed off, desperately trying to hide the tears in my eyes. 

“What all did our dad have to say?” Dean asked me. The tension in his body seemed to have doubled.

“Well, he asked me a bunch of questions, touched me with one of his knives…” thinking for a second before I continued. “He told me a little about my parents. He said he didn’t really know my brother, but he said my parents were special, so he figured I was as well. He said he didn’t know exactly what I was, but he thought I would at least be able to help him at times.”

“What happened when he touched you with the blade?” Sam asked. She could hear Dean’s breath catch when he asked me that. 

“Nothing.” I replied. “Nothing at all happened. I’m not a werewolf, that much I know.” Looking up at the brothers, I could tell they were relaxing a little bit at my response, but Dean held his right hand out to me. Not sure what he wanted, I looked at him and raised my eyebrow at him. 

“All you have to do is shake my hand,” He said to me. He was still trying to keep his voice soft, but when I locked eyes with him again, I could see the apprehension there. So I reached out and put my hand in his. His hand dwarfed mine, but it felt nice. His calloused palm scratched against the soft skin of my wrist, sending flutters through my stomach. “It’s a pure silver ring.” He explained, turning our hands over to show me. “It’s not reacting to your skin, which tells us, you’re right, you aren’t a werewolf.” He said with a small chuckle. “That’s good news, sweetheart.” He said, causing her cheeks to heat up again. She saw Sam sitting back in the chair out of the corner of her eye, just watching the two of them with a look on his face she couldn’t quite read. 

“What questions did he ask you?” Sam cut in. 

“Well, he asked me about my appetite. How strong I was, how my body changed… we didn’t talk about a whole lot, he said he wanted to get this case finished up first, so he could focus on helping me. Then he left to get us some food, came back, we slept and then he went about trying to figure everything out.” I said with a hand gesturing around at all of the new articles and papers covering the walls. “He left to speak to a witness, told me not to open the door for anyone and not to speak to anyone that wasn’t him. I haven’t seen him since.” 

“Can you tell us the answers to those questions?” Sam probed gently.

“Yeah, okay. Food. Honestly, a bacon cheeseburger and a slice of apple pie sound heavenly right about now.” I said with a small chuckle. Apple pie was my weakness. I noticed a small smile grace Dean’s lips for a second, before it was gone and he was back to the brooding gentlemen he had been all night. “As for how strong I am, I’m not 100% sure, if I’m being honest, but I could lift the engine bay of his truck off the ground.” I said. Glancing between the brothers to gauge their reaction, all I could see was curiosity and Dean almost looked like he might be a bit impressed. “I know that when I get scared, my fingernails change. They get longer, sharper. I grow fangs, like a wolf, but we’ve already established I’m not a werewolf, so it’s all very confusing. Your dad also mentioned my eyes were glowing, but that’s it.” I could see how both brothers tensed up again when I spoke, so my next words were spoken quickly and quietly. “I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad at me. Please don’t hurt me.” I hated how scared I sounded, but there was just something in me that couldn’t help but cower. They were hunters, I knew that much from John, but I still didn’t know they weren’t going to kill me where I sat. 

“Hey, hey. Take a deep breath. We aren’t mad at you, it’s okay.” Sam said. 

“If our dad didn’t hurt you, we aren’t going to hurt you either, sweetheart. You don’t have to be scared of us.” Dean followed up.

“Promise?” I hated that the stupid small sentence Dean had just uttered to me caused more hope to flare up in my chest than I had felt in a long time. They could be lying. 

“Have you ever killed a human?” He asked me.

“No. I’ve never killed anyone or anything before.” I responded with no hesitation. I hated the thought of hurting anyone. Not like I had been hurt in the past. 

“Then there you go. No reason to hurt you. Just breathe.” Sam said. “It’s getting pretty late. Why don’t we sleep on it, we can talk more tomorrow.” 

“You’ll still be here in the morning?” I asked quietly. 

“Yeah, sweetheart. We’ll still be here.” Dean responded. Nodding, satisfied with his answer, I stood up, walked back to the closet to get the extra blanket up on the shelf and made a small spot on the floor at the end of the bed to lay down on. 

“What are you doing?” Sam asked me. 

“I’m used to sleeping on the ground. I can sleep here, you guys can take the beds.” I responded. 

“Are you sure?” Dean asked me. “You don’t have to be uncomfortable.” 

“I’m sure. It’s all I’ve known for half a decade. I’ll be okay.” I said as I moved past him to grab a pillow off the bed. “Can I use this?” 

“You don’t have to ask, there are plenty of pillows.” Dean said. He almost looked confused as to why I asked. 

“Thank you.” I said as I laid down, closing my eyes. I heard the boys shuffling around a little more before the lights went out and everyone got quiet. Breathing evened out on the beds, and I finally felt like I would be safe to sleep for a few hours.

Morning came faster than I had expected, I can’t remember the last time I slept that long when I was around other people. Dean was coming out of the bathroom, slipping his jacket on as I sat up and leaned against the wall, trying to shake the sleepiness from my body.

            “Hey, man. I’m starving, I’m gonna grab a little something to eat from that diner down the street. You two want anything?” Dean asked.

            “No.” Sam said, but he was a bit distracted, staring at his phone in his hand.

            “Aframian’s buying.” He says, lifting his hand, waving a credit card around, but Sam only shakes his head.  “Sweetheart?” he says, turning his head towards me. Damnit with that fucking nickname. I could feel my cheeks heating up again as he looked at me, waiting for my answer.

            “No thank you, I don’t want to bother you.” I said quietly. Quiet and unseen. Quiet and unseen.

            “Nonsense, everyone needs to eat!” He said with a grin on his face. “Bacon cheeseburger and apple pie, right?” He asked me. Shocked, I smiled shyly at him, ducking my head and nodding lightly. Apparently both of the brothers thought that was funny because they both laughed in response. I was surprised he remembered. “Don’t look so surprised, Freya, I listen.” He says, almost sounding a little insulted.

            “Thank you.” I smiled at him. My mom used to tell me to remember to be kind, a smile always makes the world a bit more bright. Maybe, she wasn’t so wrong. Dean nodded at her, as if saying ‘you’re welcome’ before grabbing his keys and leaving through the front door. I found myself staring at the door, not used to someone looking out for me like that, when I heard a woman’s voice. Glancing at Sam, I noticed he had his phone up to his ear, listening to a voicemail.

            “Hey, it’s me, it’s about 10:27 Saturday night –“ I zoned out for a second, listening to the sounds outside, I didn’t want to listen in to his private voicemails from, who I assumed was his girlfriend. But I could hear the sounds of Jaffe, the officer who had made me uncomfortable before, outside talking to the motel manager. “So come home soon, okay? I love you.”

            “She sounds really nice.” I said to him as soon as he shut his phone. “What’s her name?”

            “Jessica. Jess. She’s my girlfriend.” He answered with a soft smile on his face. He opened his mouth to say something else when his phone beeped again, cutting him off. He looked down at it, pressed the green button and raised it back to his ear.

            “What?” He says into the phone.

            “Dude, 5-0, take off.” She heard Dean say.

            “What about you?”

            “Uh, they kinda spotted me. Get Freya, go find dad.” Dean replied, ending the call. Sam turned to me, with a look of panic in his eye. Standing up, he slipped his phone back in his pocket as he made his way over to the window, moving the curtain to look out at what was happening. I could hear the officers talking to Dean outside and had to hold my laughter in when I heard him say his boobs were real.

“They are walking this way, Sam. I can hear them.”

            “We need to leave. There is a window in the bathroom. Let’s go. Get your bag.” He instructed me and he moved towards the bathroom door. I had just grabbed my bag when I heard him. “Shit. It’s not big enough for us to fit through.” I could hear them on the sidewalk just outside the door, so without thinking I grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and pulled him into the small closet he had caught me hiding in. The space was clearly way too small for him, let alone both of us, but he put his arm around my shoulders and stayed very still. If it weren’t for the cops walking around the room outside and the whole, holding our breath so we don’t get caught thing, it would almost feel like a hug. I could hear the officers shuffling around outside of the door. One of them quietly shuffled through some of the papers. “What the fuck?” I heard him say. “Man, let’s get out of here. This place gives me the creeps.”

            “You said you’ve got really good hearing?” Sam whispered in my ear. Instead of answering him, I just nodded. “What can you hear now?” Closing my eyes, I concentrated.

            “Three, maybe four people walking around outside. They are getting in their cars. I can hear Dean griping about the cuffs being too tight. Tires on gravel… They’re gone.” I relayed to him in real time.

            “Good. They won’t be gone for long, we need to move.” He said to me as he opened the closet door. Making sure I hadn’t forgotten anything in my haste, I looked around. My jacket was on the back of the chair and the current book I was reading was on the nightstand. I quickly gathered them up and Sam made his way over to the front door and peaked out, confirming that the coast was clear. He motioned me to follow him, then made his way out into the parking lot. Dean’s keys were still in the car door from where he was unlocking it, so Sam pulled them out and opened the door.

            “This is your car? Holy shit. 1967 Chevy Impala. She’s beautiful!” I said, forgetting the whole quiet and unseen thing for a second as I admired the black beauty in front of me.

            “It’s Dean’s. He calls it his baby.” He said as he laughed at me. “Are you petting the car?” He said between laughs as I ran my hand over her hood.

            “Hush, I’m just saying hello!” I said to him, which only made him laugh that much harder.

            “Oh, I’m definitely telling Dean. He’ll love this.”

            “You wouldn’t.” I said, slightly mortified about Dean finding out.

            “I definitely would. Now get in the damn car.” He said laughing again. “Do you remember Joseph’s address?” He asked me after he had calmed down and started the car up. Good lord the way she purred…. “Freya.” He said again.

            “Huh?”

            “I asked if you remembered where Joseph lived?” He said with a small smile on his face.

            “Oh yeah. Your dad told me the address.” I said. Embarrassed, I had been caught admiring the car again. I rattled off the address at him as I sat back in the seat. It was clear this car had been very well taken care of. The seats were a soft, black leather I couldn’t help but sink into. The scent of the leather and gunpowder was strong in the car, but I didn’t mind it. It was comforting.

            They pulled up to Mr. Welch’s house and Sam killed the engine, then turned to face me.

            “You can stay in the car if you’d like, or you can come with me. It’s your choice.” He said. My choice. He was letting me choose what I wanted to do. I thought about it for a second, and came to the conclusion that I can only learn so much about this world, my world, from a book.

            “Can I come with you? Is that okay?” I asked him tentatively. I wanted to learn, but I didn’t want to overstep.

            “Absolutely.” He smiled at me. That smile put me at ease. Made me feel like I had made the right decision.

            “Okay. Great.”

            We both climbed out of the car and shut the doors. I let him walk in front, taking the lead. I couldn’t wait to learn more about this case. I followed him to the door as he knocked on it. Not a few seconds later, it was opened by an older looking man wearing a baseball cap.

            “Hi. Are you Joseph Welch?”

“Yeah.”

            “Do you mind if we ask you a couple of questions?” Sam asked him. Closing the door behind him, Joseph stepped out of the house and started walking down the driveway. Sam pulled out the picture he had found of Dean, his dad and himself and showed it to Joseph as they walked, and asked him if he had come to see him.

           “Yeah, he was older, but that's him. He came by three or four days ago. Said he was a reporter.”

“That's right. We're working on a story together.”

            “Well, I don't know what the hell kinda story you're working on. The questions he asked me?”

“About your wife Constance?”

“He asked me where she was buried.”

“And where is that again?”

“What, I gotta go through this twice?”

“It's fact-checking. If you don't mind.”

“In a plot. Behind my old place over on Breckenridge.”

“And why did you move?”

            “I'm not gonna live in the house where my children died.” Both men stop walking, turning to each other.

“Mr. Welch, did you ever marry again?” Sam asked him.

“No way. Constance, she was the love of my life. Prettiest woman I ever knew.”

             “So you had a happy marriage?” I looked at Sam funny at that one. What did that have to do with anything? But I did notice Joseph’s hesitation.

“Definitely.”

            “Well, that should do it. Thanks for your time.” Sam said as he put his hand on my elbow, starting to guide me back towards the impala, but he paused for a moment, looking back at Joseph. “Mr. Welch, did you ever hear of a woman in white?” That’s what John had said he was looking for. Turning back around, Joseph responded to him.

“A what?”

            “A woman in white. Or sometimes weeping woman?” Noticing Joseph’s silence, Sam continued on, “It's a ghost story. Well, it's more of a phenomenon, really.” Taking a few steps back in Joseph’s direction, Sam kept talking. “Um, they're spirits. They've been sighted for hundreds of years, dozens of places, in Hawaii, Mexico, lately in Arizona, Indiana. All these are different women. You understand. But all share the same story.”

            “Boy, I don't care much for nonsense.” Joseph replied angrily as he turned and started to walk away from Sam.

            “See, when they were alive, their husbands were unfaithful to them. And these women, basically suffering from temporary insanity, murdered their children.” At this, Joseph stopped and turned on Sam with tears in his eyes, glaring at him. “Then once they realized what they had done, they took their own lives. So now their spirits are cursed, walking back roads, waterways. And if they find an unfaithful man, they kill him. And that man is never seen again.”

           “You think...you think that has something to do with...Constance? You smartass!” He replies. I could smell the anger coming off of him as he took a step back in our direction. It scared me, more than I would like to admit, so I took a step closer to Sam. Glancing back at me, he focused his attention back on Joseph, positioning himself between us.

“You tell me.”

            “I mean, maybe...maybe I made some mistakes. But no matter what I did, Constance, she never would have killed her own children. Now, you get the hell out of here! And you don't come back!” As Joseph turned to walk away from us, I grabbed Sam’s elbow.

“Can we leave now?” I asked him quietly.

          �� “Yeah. Yeah, we can leave now.” He nodded to me. As we turned around to head back to the car, he set his hand on my back, guiding me. It’s strange how the smallest things can make you feel so much more comfortable with a situation. I felt so much better knowing he was there. I think he could tell how unsettled Joseph’s anger made me, but he didn’t comment on it as he opened my door for me, closing it as soon as I was settled. Climbing into the driver's seat, he put the key in the ignition and started the car up. As we pulled out of the driveway, back onto the main road, he glanced over in my direction.

           “We need a way to get Dean out of jail. Some sort of distraction so he can get out of there.” He said to me.

“I may have an idea, but it’s a bit illegal.” I said to him, ducking my head as I spoke.

“Let’s hear it.”

            “You got a gun in here?” I asked him. He pulled back his jacket to show the pistol he had tucked into his jacket. “Can I use your phone?” I asked him as I motioned for the gun and held my hand out for the gun. He eyed me warily, but decided to trust me with both the gun and the phone. Once I had the phone secured in my hand, I checked that the gun was loaded, leaned over and rolled the passenger window down, opened the phone, dialed 9-1-1 and clicked the safety off.

“9-1-1, what’s the location of your emergency?” I heard the dispatcher say.

            “Oh my god! You’ve got to help me!” I screamed into the phone “They are shooting at each other! Someone’s going to get killed! Please help me!” I continued as I held the phone closer to Sam, held the gun out of the window, pointed it towards the sky and let off a few rounds.

“Ma’am, where are you located?”

            “Out on Saddlebrook road. Please hurry!” I screamed, letting off one more shot before I closed the phone, put the safety back on and handed them both back to Sam. Silence rained for several minutes as he just kept looking back and forth between me and the road before he lost it and just started laughing so hard I thought he was going to wreck the car.

            “That was the best thing I think I have ever seen. That was amazing!” he says between laughs.

            “Thank you, Thank you.” I say as I giggle, bowing to him as well as I can in the front seat. Our laughter was cut off by his phone ringing a few minutes later.

            “Fake 9-1-1 phone call? Sammy, I don’t know, that’s pretty illegal.” Dean says when Sam answered the phone

            “It was actually Freya’s idea, she made the call, blame her.” He said with a small laugh.

            “You’re welcome!” I yell out towards the phone and I can hear Dean let out a small chuckle.

“Listen, we gotta talk.”

            “Tell me about it. So the husband was unfaithful. We are dealing with a woman in white. And she’s buried behind her old house, so that should have been Dad’s next stop.”

“Sammy, would you shut up for a second?”

“I just can't figure out why Dad hasn't destroyed the corpse yet.”

“Well, that's what I'm trying to tell you. He's gone. Dad left Jericho.”

“What? How do you know?”

“I've got his journal.”

“He doesn't go anywhere without that thing.”

“Yeah, well, he did this time.”

“What's it say?”

            “Ah, the same old ex-Marine crap, when he wants to let us know where he's going. And a note about helping Freya.”

“Coordinates. Where to? What did the note say?”

            “I'm not sure yet. The note didn’t say much, just that she needed help and protection and he intended to do both.”

            “I don't understand. I mean, what could be so important that Dad would just skip out in the middle of a job? Dean, what the hell is going on?”

            “Sam, look out!” I yelled. There, standing in the middle of the road, was Constance. He slammed on the breaks, but the car went right through her before it stopped. “I’m guessing that’s our Casper?” I asked him. He didn’t get a chance to answer me before she showed up in the backseat.

“Sam? Freya? Sam!” I could hear Dean yelling at us through the phone, but I couldn’t see it anywhere. It must have fallen on Sam's floorboard, but honestly, that was the least of my worries right now. My mom’s journal said that iron and salt can deflect ghosts, but looking around the small space of the car, I wasn’t seeing a whole lot of either.

             “Take me home.” The ghost said. When we didn’t reply, she got a bit more forceful with it. “Take me home!” She demanded.

              “No.” Sam replied. I didn’t say anything, I just kept my eyes on her. Noticing the glare on her face, I decided to speak up.

              “Hey, Sam, Casper the friendly ghost isn’t looking so friendly right now.” He didn’t answer me, but Constance decided that was the perfect time to turn her glare on me, locking the doors and pressing down on the gas pedal. “Sam, are you doing this?” I asked him as the car started to move.

               “Nope! Not me!” he replied. We both kept trying to unlock the doors, hit the brakes, anything to get the car to stop, but we weren’t having much luck in that department.

               A few minutes later, the car finally rolled to a stop in front of a run down, two story house. The sun had set, so it was dark out at this point.

“Don’t do this.” Sam said to Constance, as she flickers in the backseat.

“I can never go home.” She said, sounding sad as she looked out the window.

            “You’re scared to go home.” Realization set in, but before either of us could comment, the back of the seat slammed down and I found myself pinned in place, I couldn’t move a muscle. Panic began to creep up my throat, but I tried to force it down when I noticed that Constance was now straddling Sam’s lap, leaning down over him.

“Hold me. I’m so cold.”

“You can’t kill me. I’m not unfaithful. I’ve never been!”

            “You will be. Just hold me.” She says as she leans back down over him and kisses him. He struggled against her, trying to reach the keys, but he was having a hard time. I finally was able to move, so I sat up as quickly as I could and put the keys in his hand. Constance pulled back at that point, her face flickering into her true form for a moment, before she vanished.

“Where did she go?” I asked him

            “I don’t know.” He responded, glancing around before all of the sudden throwing himself back against the seat, yelling out in pain and pulling at his jacket. Five holes, five finger shaped holes are burned through his shirt and into his chest, right over his heart, Constance flickering back into view with her hand trying to dig its way into his chest.

            “Freya, drop!” Dean’s voice vaguely registers in my head before I land on the floorboard. Gunshots ring out and glass flies all over the seat, embedding itself in my cheek.

            “I’m taking you home.” I heard Sam say and before I had the chance to climb back into the seat, the car was flying through the side of the house. The ringing in my ears is all I can hear for a second, I must have hit my head on the dash when the car came to a stop.

“Sam! Sam! You okay?” Dean yells.

“I think…”

“Can you move?”

“Yeah. Help me?”

             I can see Dean’s hand coming through the window to help Sam, pulling him out of the car. I was finally able to crawl out of the floorboard, sitting myself down on the passenger seat, my eyes immediately finding Constance.

            “Hey, Casper, whatcha got there?” I asked her, of course she isn’t going to answer me, I think to myself as I step out of the car, eyes on her. Instead, she dropped the picture frame, backed up and sent a bureau flying at the three of us, pinning us to the side of the car. “Fuck.” I let out.

“You okay?” Dean asks me, trying to help Sam push the bureau off of us. 

             “Peachy. Pretty sure the bitchy spook just broke a couple of my ribs.” Again, my eyes are on Constance. She had started walking towards us, but she paused when the lights started to flicker. Normally, I would revel in the fact that she looked scared out of her mind, but then, that just means that something else is headed our way… great…

“You’ve come home to us, Mommy.”

            “Aww fuck. Why is it always kids? Man… kids are creepy!” I complained. Of course, the brothers just laugh at me. “Am I wrong? Even Casper looks freaked!” I said to them.

             Suddenly, the children appear behind their mom, hugging her tightly as she starts screaming, their image flickering. In a surge of energy, still screaming, Constance and the two Children melted into a puddle on the floor, and we were finally able to shove the bureau off of us. The boys walked over to where Constance and her children vanished, looking at the spot on the floor.

“So this is where she drowned her kids.” Dean says.

            Nodding, Sam replied, “That's why she could never go home. She was too scared to face them.”

            “You found her weak spot. Nice work, Sammy.” He said as he smacked Sam in the chest, right where Constance dug her fingers.

            “Yeah, I wish I could say the same for you. What were you thinking shooting Casper in the face, you freak?” he said with a laugh, wincing at the sore spot on his chest.

            “Hey. Saved your ass.” he replied as he walked over to me. Taking my face in his hands, he examined my forehead. “Sweetheart, you okay?” Fucking hell with that nickname! I could literally feel the blood rushing to my face as he spoke.

“I’m okay, it will be healed in a couple of minutes” I said, smiling at him.

           “Well that’s handy…” I kept my eyes on his as the cut literally healed as he watched it, looking for any signs of danger, but all I saw on his face was fascination. Once he was satisfied my head was okay, he grabbed the edge of my shirt, lifting it slightly to check on my ribs, but upon seeing nothing, he just nodded to himself and turned back around to face Sam. “I’ll tell you another thing. If you screwed up my car? I’ll kill you.”

I couldn’t help it at that point, I started laughing, Sam joining in almost immediately.

           “Yeah, yeah, okay, you two, get in the damn car. I gotta get her out of this shithole.” Dean said, shaking his head at us. 

We were driving down the road, listening to the radio as Sam had his flashlight on, John’s journal and a map sitting in his lap. I found myself bobbing my head to the song, sitting up, sitting my elbows on the front seat between the boys as I spoke up.

             “Hey, is that AC/DC?” I asked Dean. Turning down the radio, he leaned a little closer to me.

             “Hell yeah, it is!” he smirks.    

         “I love this song.” I reply with a small smile.

“Okay, here’s where Dad went.” Sam cuts in. “It’s called Blackwater Ridge, Colorado.”

             Nodding, Dean responds, “Charming. How far?”

             “About 600 miles.”

             “Hey, if we shag ass, we could make it by morning.”

             “Dean, I, um…” I could feel the mood shifting in the car, so I sat back in my seat, looking at the floorboard. I didn’t want to intrude on the moment.

             “You’re not going.” Dean said. That caught my attention, I didn’t want Sam to leave. His presence was comforting.

             “The interview’s in like, 10 hours. I gotta be there.”

             “Yeah. Yeah, whatever.” Not only could I hear the disappointment in the sound of his voice, but I could smell it in the air. Dean’s scent had finally, fully hit me a little while earlier when we first got in the car. Whiskey, gunpowder, and pine trees. It was a very intoxicating scent, but to have it soured by the disappointment in the car, made me sad. “I’ll take you home.”

             “What interview?” I asked Sam, as he clicked off the flashlight, putting everything away.

             “Law School. I’m hoping for a full ride.”

             “I’m gonna be honest with you, I’m not sure what that means. Why do you need to interview for school?”

             “It’s an admissions interview. It’s how the schools gauge the fit of the potential student.”

             “That sounds…. Fancy.” I said with a bit of a laugh. “I barely finished high school.” I’m thinking he may be a bit too smart, that’s not intimidating, at all….

             “Hey, don’t feel bad, sweetheart, I got a GED.” Dean piped up. Catching his eye through the rear view mirror, he winked at me, causing me to blush even harder. The fuck is up with this guy, man? Smiling at him, I couldn’t help but duck my head again. But I caught the smirk on his face as I turned away. Laying down in the back seat, it wasn’t long before the rumble of the engine lulled me to sleep.

             “Hey, sleepyhead.” I heard as I slowly opened my eyes. Sam was leaning over the back seat, trying to get me to wake up. “This is my stop. I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.” He smiled at me. Sitting up, I looked up at him. “You gotta do me a favor and keep this one in line, yeah?” He nodded to Dean as he spoke, and I could hear him let out a little scoff at that. He turned back to his brother before he spoke again. “Call me if you find him?” Dean just nodded to him as he climbed out of the car, leaning down to the widow. “And maybe I can meet up with you two later, huh?”          

   “Yeah, all right.” Was Dean’s response, but he still wouldn’t look at him. Sam patted the door twice, looked at me one more then, then turned and started walking away. “Sam?” Dean called after him, leaning towards the passenger door, one arm going over the back of the seat. “You know, we made a hell of a team back there.”

“Yeah.”

             Nodding his head one more time, Dean put the car in gear and drove out of the parking lot, leaving Sam behind.

             “You want to ride up here with me?”

             “Umm, yeah. Sure, okay.” I smiled at him as I climbed over the seat, settling in the passenger seat. “Thank you. For taking me with you. You didn’t have to, you don’t have to keep helping me. I don’t want to impose or cause any issues.” I said quietly to him.

             “What are you talking about? You’ve already ‘pet’ my car, it would be rude to leave her now!” he said, teasing me.

             “He didn’t…”

             “He did! Even mentioned you were ‘saying hello’” He says with a laugh. I couldn’t help the blood rushing to my face, so I put my hand over my cheeks, covering myself up. “Don’t be embarrassed, sweetheart! It’s cute! She is a pretty car!” He laughs again

             “I can’t with you!” I laughed back, finally uncovering my face to look at him, but I noticed his watch had stopped working.

             “What?” he asked me, catching me staring at his wrist.

             “Oh I’m sorry, your watch battery is dead.”

             “What do you mean?”

             “Your watch, it stopped. The battery died, I guess.” I said, poking his watch a couple of times to make my point. He pulls it back to his face so he can look at it, but instead of brushing it off, like I expected him to, his face turns hard. “What’s wrong?” I asked him

             “Hold on.” Was all he said as he flipped the car around, pushing on the gas and rushing back towards Sam’s apartment.

             As he pulled up, he slammed the car into park and yelled at me, not even bothering to close his door after he got out, rushing towards the apartment building. “Stay in the car. No matter what happens, don’t come out until you see me, do you understand?” Nodding at him, I move to close his door. “Words, sweetheart.” He speaks again, impatience coloring his tone.

             “Yes, of course. Go. Be careful.” I barely got the words out before he disappeared into the building. It couldn’t have been more than five minutes before he appears again, this time dragging Sam along with him, but he’s struggling against Dean, fighting to get back into the building.

             “Freya, a little help?” Dean called out to me, having a hard time keeping Sam back. Just as I got the door open, flames burst out of the windows of the building.

             “Holy fuck…” I muttered to myself.

             “Freya!” Dean’s voice broke me out of my daze as I rushed over to help him. Grabbing Sam by the shoulders, I noticed the tears streaming down his face. I backed him up against the car and hugged him. I wouldn’t let him go no matter how hard he fought me. I could feel his body shaking as he started to sob into my shoulder. Fire trucks fill the parking lot, one after the other, fighting to get the flames under control. Listening to Dean answering the questions for Sam, I started to piece together what had happened. Sam found Jess, pinned to the ceiling, stomach cut open, flames bursting out of her. The more I hear, the more I can’t help but just hug him tighter. He just lost the love of his life. I can see Dean glancing over at us every now and then, but all I could focus on was Sam.

             After he finished up with the questions, Dean made his way back over to us, a silent question in his eyes when he looked at me, but all I could do was shake my head. Sam had finally stopped shaking, but I could still feel the tears. When he caught sight of his brother, though, he sat up, wiped his tears away and made his way to the trunk.

             “We’ve got work to do.” 

Picture of Freya

[thecoddaughter]

Pearl, Gem, & Lizzie as The History of Man by Maisie Peters

Tale as old as honey

Pearl being created, surrounded by watchers

A moment everybody knows

The moment turning into the stainglass style of big moments 

Yeah, I'm sure there was heartbreak

Each of the victors standing in front of their glass

Inside the walls of Jericho

Zooms out to see the exterior of the Hall of Memories floating in the Void 

I couldn't believe it

Younger Pearl floating through the Void, staring down an elder Watcher

How you could just stop wanting me?

Being exiled to Evo

You burnt down Easter Island

Evo building up to the entering the End together

As if it wasn't sacred, as if it wasn't sacred to me

Being forced to fight the Dragon alone, floating in the Void alone

I've seen it, in the poems and the sands

Exiting the End, with the Watcher’s reading out how Grian joined them again, landing on an isolated beach

I've pleaded, with the powers and their plans

Her finding her way back to the Void and convincing them to send her somewhere

I tried to rewrite it but I can't

Sitting in her tower, aware Grain had infiltrated the Empires Realm risking it all 

It's the history, the history of man

A portal opening and her getting access to the Hermit Realm

She stays up, he's sleeping like a lamb

Pearl working hard to figure things out, Sausage asleep nearby

She begs him, he says he doesn't understand

Pearl’s “death” in the Empires Realm and King Sasuage’s death 

She loves him, more than anyone ever has in the history, the history of man

Saint Pearlo being founded 

It's the history of man (yep)

Sausage of Santuary dedicating his life to Saint Pearlo

You didn't even falter

Gem looking at Fwhip after he destroyed the Empires Realm

Didn't look back once, did you?

Escaping with him, only to take a portal one day and not return herself

So Samson blamed Delilah, but given half the chance I

Gem watching all the Hermits having these strange pre-determined friendships no one can’t even explain

I would have made him weaker too

Her looking at Pearl and feeling that unexplainable friendship 

Sirens sounded, trumpets blaring

GeminiSlay being titled, fight scenes and whatnot

You walked out oh, without sweating

Spinning around Gem altering forms, unknowingly teleporting most nights

I've seen it, in the poems and the sands

Gem landing in Secret Life feeling something off

I've pleaded, with the powers and their plans

Gem unknowingly picking a former victor and a runner-up place for her team

I tried to rewrite it but I can't

Her staring confused at her gibberish spellbook next to her secret book

It's the history, the history of man

She fiddles with the Watcher charm Pearl gave her while staring at the secret keeper

She stays up, he's sleeping like a lamb

Gem staying over at Etho’s, questioning why something feels wrong about him being her brother

She begs him, he says he doesn't understand

She her charm symbol scratched into Scar’s floor and asks but he won’t tell 

She loves him more than anyone ever has in the history (history)

Images flickering between Fwhip and Etho

The history of man

Gem lingering in portals longer than safe

He stole her youth and promised heaven

Pearl fighting with the Watchers 

The men start wars yet Troy hates Helen

Grian get punished with being in charge of the Death Games, but still Pearl gets the short end of the stick

Women's hearts are lethal weapons

Gem going through the effects of the Boogieman Curse

Did you hold mine and feel threatened?

Her kneeling bloody in front of Pearl 

Hear my lyrics, taste my venom

Gem floating through the void and losing her memory again

You are still my great obsession

Gem finding Pearl and staying close to her

I've seen it, in the poems and the sands

Lizzie washing up on the beach in Empires Realm as the Ocean Queen

I've pleaded, with the powers and their plans

Lizzie falling through the Void after dying, meeting the watchers

I tried to rewrite it but I can't

Flashes of Jimmy dying soon after

It's the history (history), the history of man

Lizzie trying to hold onto her memories as they flash before her

I stay up, you're sleeping like a lamb

Lizzie waking up in SOS Realm [there may not be lore, but there is always lore]

I beg you and you don't understand

She tries to explain it to Joel but his memories are too blocked

I hold on, I try to hold your hand

Them holding hands but Joel looking distant

I save you a seat, and then you say you wanna stand

She watches him as he mindlessly portal jumps

So you'll lose me, the best you'll ever have

Lizzie sitting alone on SOS Realm

It's the history, the history of man

Flashes to Pearl and Gem feeling like they are missing someone

[creative-caramel-coffee]

Note: Hi welcome to my Wednesday Addams Masterlist! All fics are for 18+ reader. These are hurt/comfort or sicfics with some fluff and maybe some angst. All fics are for Sick / injured Fem!reader (expect series which have it but not the whole time) there is no smut in any of this they are just sicfics and series. Enjoy :)

TITLE || TYPE OF FIC* || NO.K WORDS || RELATIONSHIP / TYPE OF FIC* || ROLE / TYPE OF RELATIONSHIP || PROGRESS

* A = angst || F = Fluff || SF = Sic Fic || W = Whump || PF = Period Fic || VW = Vomit Warning || AR = Agere

* REQUST || SICTEMBER || PROMPT

SERIES

SCARS AND SECRETS

|| F / W / A? / SF || 0.0K WORDS || WEEMS x THORNHILL x R || STUDENT PLATONIC R || WIP

|| Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 …

After a day gone wrong in the middle of a heatwave your secret, which is still very new to you as well, is shared with your principle and teacher who promise to help you. After you start on the road to discovering and learning more about yourself and this new secret life becomes much more interesting. Old secrets are discovered and your past gets a little more clear.

ONESHOTS

PRINCIPLE WEEMS x READER

Desperate to Decompress || F / W / SF / A? || 2.6K WORDS || STUDENT PLATONIC R

Reader needs some time for herself to gather her thoughts and hides herself away. When Ms Thornhill notices your absence she reports to Weems, who goes to investigate.

Nightmares and Nosebleeds || F / W / SF || 3.3K WORDS || STUDENT PLATONIC R

Reader has been having trouble sleeping and weems helps you get some much-needed rest.

Sickness and Sprains (+ asthma) || F / W / SF || 3K WORDS || STUDENT PLATONIC R

Reader is sick and it triggers her asthma badly which leads to getting injuried as well. Weems helps you out.

Nosebleed || F / W / SF || 1.2K WORDS || STUDENT PLATONIC R || REQUEST

Reader gets a nosebleed in class and make a run for it.

Good Intentions || F / W / SF / VW || 1.4K WORDS || STUDENT PLATONIC R

Reader usually always stays behind from Jericho so when weems finally notices she insists and drives you herself. However, you get bad motion sickness but felt too embarrassed to say something.

Nurse Weems || F / W / SF / VW || 1.3K WORDS || TEACHER PLATONIC R

Reader is a teacher and gets sick, but you can only hide it from students and staff for so long. What happens when Wednesday catches you and calls in Principle Weems?

Stuck storming || F / W / SF || 3.4K WORDS || STUDENT PLATONIC R || REQUEST

Reader gets sick after being trapped in Burlington due to a storm and flooding. Luckily Weems is with her.

Stuck storming part 2 || F / W / SF || 1.7K WORDS || STUDENT PLATONIC R || REQUEST

Reader and Weems are still waiting for the flooding to go down. In the mean time your still sick and kind of bored.

Sickness and spiders || F / W / SF / VW || 1.3K WORDS || STUDENT PLATONIC R || REQUEST

Readers gets in trouble for something she didn’t fully understand, the whole time she’s feeling sick as and Weems is yet too notice.

Schedules and sicknesses || F / W / SF || 2.1K WORDS || TEACHER PLATONIC R || REQUEST

Reader can’t miss this meeting. But Weems notices your sick… what happens now?

A Little Sick || F / W / SF / AR || 1.4K WORDS || STUDENT PLATONIC R || REQUEST

Reader gets sick and regresses alone in her dorm.

A home in your heart || F / W / SF || 1.8K WORDS || STUDENT PLATONIC R || REQUEST

Reader gets sick and yoko goes to fetch you some help.

Chronic pain in my butt || F / W / SF || 1.0K WORDS || STUDENT DAUGHTER R || REQUEST

Reader has chronic pain, and her mother is there for her.

MS THORNHILL X READER

Exam Season || F / W / SF / A? || 1.6K WORDS || STUDENT PLATONIC R || REQUEST

Reader has been in some pain and finally finds a solution.

Attack of the pot plants || F / W / SF || 2.1K WORDS || STUDENT PLATONIC R || REQUEST

Reader hides an injury and it turns out badly for you. Luckily Ms Thornhill cares for you.

Attack of the pot plants PT 2 || F / W / SF || 1.2K WORDS || STUDENT PLATONIC R || REQUEST

Reader needs some TLC and Thornhill finds out what you did.

PRINCIPLE WEEMS x MS THORNHILL x READER

Sick day in the dorms || F / W / SF/ VW || 1.8K WORDS || STUDENT PLATONIC R

Reader doesn’t show up for class so Weems and Thornhill grow concerned. What happens when your too sick to let them into your dorm?

The Sickness Excuse || F / W / SF/ VW || 1.2K WORDS || STUDENT PLATONIC R

Reader has used the “sick” excuse one too many times, what happens now she’s actually sick and can’t leave class?

The Sickness Excuse Part 2 || F / W / SF || 1.3K WORDS || STUDENT PLATONIC R

Reader has been resting after being brought back to the principal's office, Weems and Thornhill want to know more and make sure you're ok.

Shes a Sleepy Softie || F / W / SF || 3K WORDS || STUDENT PLATONIC R

Readers been having some trouble sleeping, what happens when you do?

Exhausting Excursions || F / W / A / SF / VW || 3.4K WORDS || STUDENT PLATONIC R

Reader gets sick on an excursion and Weems is concerned.

Ms Sniffles || F / W / A / SF || 2.5K WORDS || STUDENT PLATONIC R || REQUEST

Reader is an alleged troublemaker who had been on Weems nerves all week, but now you're sick and Weems is feeling guilty.

Safe and Warm || F / W / A || 1.4K WORDS || STUDENT PLATONIC R || REQUEST

Reader gets bullied and ends up somewhere she really doesn’t want to be. Small spaces always made her scared. But now she’s locked in.

Passing (out) in Botany class || F / W / SF / VW || 1.5K WORDS || STUDENT PLATONIC R

Reader passes out in class and manages to get a nice concussion.

Studying sickness || F / W / SF || 1.7K WORDS || STUDENT PLATONIC R || REQUEST

Reader passes out from studying for too long. Principal Weems and Ms Thornhill look after you.

The Addams Allergy || F / W / SF / A || 1.7K WORDS || STUDENT PLATONIC R

Reader's allergy is a thing of myth, and someone decides to do some myth-busting. This won't end well for anyone.

The Black Towel || F / W / PF || 1.2K WORDS || STUDENT PLATONIC R

Reader ends up in the principals office … but you didn’t do anything wrong. Well, nothing that deserved being here at least.

Exam Anxiety Sickness || F / W / VW / SF || 1.4K WORDS || STUDENT PLATONIC R

Reader worries about her exam to a point of sickness

A Little Sick Part 2 || F / W / SF / AR || 1.2K WORDS || STUDENT PLATONIC R || REQUEST

Reader gets some cuddles and a nap as well as seeing some new faces.

Texts from the ex || F / W / SF || 1.1K WORDS || TEACHER R

Reader is a fairly new teacher, and you have a panic attack at school luckily not in class.

First Visions || F / W / SF / VW? || 1.9K WORDS || STUDENT PLATONIC R

Reader has her first vision and ends up injured and in need of help.

First Visions Pt. 2 || F / W / SF / VW || 2.3K WORDS || STUDENT PLATONIC R || REQUEST

Reader is taken care of after part one.

Tonsil troubles || F / W / SF || 1.9K WORDS || STUDENT PLATONIC R || REQUEST

Reader has been ignoring their body, Weems and Thornhill intervene.

Tonsil troubles Pt. 2 || F / W / SF || 1.3K WORDS || STUDENT PLATONIC R || REQUEST

Reader is looked after following her surgery in part one.

Momma Bear || F / W / SF || 1.9K WORDS || TEACHER PLATONIC R || REQUEST

Reader is struggling with some pains and exhaustion while trying to find her feet at a new job. It's your scary boss that seems to be your saviour.

ENID x READER

Coming soon!

WEDNESDAY x READER

Coming soon!

WENCLAIR X READER

Coming soon!

OTHER

Motion Sickness Secrets || F / SF / W / VW || 1.8K WORDS || WEEMS X WEDNESDAY || PLATONIC

Wednesday faces the consequences of keeping secrets.

Inconvenient hours of overtime || F / W / PF || 1.7K WORDS || WEEMS X WEDNESDAY || PLATONIC

Wednesday finds herself in a stick situation and ends up tying weems into it.

The baby monitor || F / W / SF / A || 1.9K WORDS || WEEMS X WEDNESDAY || PLATONIC

Wednesday hasn’t been looking after herself

[maryannecrimsworth]

Version 1 of the sequel of Only Silence(without you), honestly super duper excited, THE SONG FOR THIS IS "Billie Eilish - Happier than Ever". Ive already talked about it in the reblog of OSWY but ill be putting it in summarized form instead of ramble form.

Wednesday x Singer!Reader

After that last concert in Jericho, you and your crew left without any problems and you started your preparation to move on from Wednesday with putting away that Crystal ball that the Addams Family gifted to you to be in contact with Wednesday, you touch the Crystal ball and reminisce all those talks between you two, you let out a breath that you didnt know you were holding and decided on contacting them to inform them of the break up between you two, anxiety and paranoia would strike you. You think that they will not take it well, you think they will hunt you for breaking up with Wednesday. You take a deep breath and took that leap of faith and called them and informed them of your situation (you decide their reaction, would they be understanding or will they cut you off from their lives), and you also inform them of you putting away the crystal ball and that if they need you, just give you a letter or text.

The fact that the concert was the last one of your tour, you were afraid that with nothing much to do, your head might get filled with thoughts of her, but surprisingly you were a lil inspired so you write and write, compose and compose until you are satisfied. You gave yourself a pat on the back, you have outdone yourself as you knew your song is gonna go big but your grin becomes a melancholic smile. You look up at the ceiling and clench ur fists while letting out a stuttering breath and you lay down and sleep for the night hoping that the night will wash your feelings away.

The next morning you ask your manager if you could do a live stream Q&A cuz you always liked to do fan interactions. After a few days of pleading, Your manager gave in and you gave a cheer also telling them ur inviting a famous friend. Past forward a week later, everything was prepared and all set up, you and ur friend are side by side answering questions about ur tour and life etc etc. By the end of the stream, you sneakily said that you have a song cooked up and grabbed ur instrument and started singing the song.

(NOW ITS UP TO YOU AUTHOR FOR THIS TO END CUZ LEGIT ive run out of things to type for this and do please have fun -love, Tundra)

After listening very carefully to all the songs you suggested, I chose one --- and this version practically wrote itself. I hope you like this pure sadness

Sequel(1) of Only Silence(Without You) / Sequel (2)

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Singer! Gn! Reader

Warning: Memories; heart-break; moving on; sad end; reader pranks the local church(no offense directed at any religion, it's just the reader's background)

Author's note: This is the Version 1(aka angsty end). There will be an Version 2(aka hurt and comfort) soon

I am alone(In The Stars)

Reason.

That was what Wednesday kept looking for: reason. 

For what reason did she remain quiet? For what reason did she ignore your letters, your calls? For what reason did she choose Tyler, for what reason did she kiss him, knowing his lips would never taste like yours? Why did she ruin you, you two — her everything. 

The person who never cheated, lied, or used her — you were always there for her, no matter what; bad or good, criminal or legal, and now you weren’t. 

You were not by her side, and you would never be again. You were her partner, a part of her life — a part of her, and now you are missing. 

Now you are gone, far away and her day feels empty. She sits on the last seat of the empty church, and her body shivers as her mind remembers you. She itches, scratches, trembles like she’s sick, like something has been violently ripped from her — like a phantom limb lingering, hurting, aching, screaming and bawling in despair, even though it is not really there. And this is what hurts: its absence, your absence. You are missing. She misses you. 

And the church's quiet inside just made her notice how empty she felt without you. 

Sunday mornings were your favorite

I used to meet you down on Woods Creek Road

It was almost comical how you behaved. Every single week, every single Sunday, you would sneak into the church — under the priest’s nose, to your aunt’s disgrain — and watch the saints and symbols as if they were real deities. As if your father could be among them, singing with the choir, listening to the sermon, watching and praying like you were. Then someone would yawn, a teen would scoff, an old man would curse and you were shattered. The deities disappeared, being placed with pale, old statues, as you stood up and laughed. You laughed loudly, scornfully, wickedly and the whole church would look at you. The priest would grasp your arm as you shoot questions at him, your aunt would slap you in the face and take you out of the temple. It was your theater, your show, your little spectacle to make all the believers shiver and tremble in their feet. To make them regret rejecting you and your father — to make them remember what you have done on your first day in the city. On the day you first met her. 

Your posture was as straight and confident as always: you were not older than 10, but you lifted your chin and watched the people in the funeral as if they were plebs, farseers, as if they were worms. Worms crawling up to your father’s corpse, on display in the middle of the pulpit — you despised them, you despised their hypocrisy, you despised how they pretended to care after kicking your father out of town. After expelling a man in need, a man with a newborn — you — and acting as if they were right, as if they had the right to do it. 

No deity would allow this, no deity would accept believers this dissembling — no deity would allow its followers to sin like this in complete silence. 

So you broke the silence — you interrupted your aunt's speech of empty, lying words — you made the statues sing and sob while the believers turned pale. The symbols and faces you always look at sang in a motionless choir — the Saints spoke and rebuked their bad testimonies, Virgin Mary and Baby Jesus scolded all the relatives you have never talked to. Your family trembled and cried, begging the heavens to stop, begging for forgiveness, promising they would be better — the priest was in despair, and screams took over the church until your laughter arose. Sitting next to Wednesday, hidden by her side, watching the chaos with her, you were witnessing your own show from outside, feeling pleasure for the despair of your family. 

And before she could notice, Wednesday was laughing too. Your aunt got you before you could talk to her — but you saw her. You heard her low laugh and turned your head in an abrupt motion, and you saw her. You smiled at her while you were being dragged out of the church.

You did your hair up like you were famous

Even though it's only church where we were goin'

That was where she met you. That was where she always met you — at church, on the Sunday morning, and she would watch your show, your display of anger and revolt, and she would smirk back at you as you were being kicked out of the temple once again. In the beginning, you were testing her — you wanted to know if she was truly enjoying your spectacle. She was — and that’s why you kept doing it. 

At church, then at her house; after a few months meeting at the temple, changing nothing but a few glances, you followed her home — to the haunted mansion of the city — and waited for the dusk. When the silence came and the fog arose among the gravestones of the Addams' yard, you started to sing. Your voice sounded like thunder at first, shaking the whole building with a supernatural power. 

“Hello darkness, my old friend!” The singing resounded inside her room, and Wednesday jumped from her seat immediately — her eyes wandered fastly around the place, looking for the source of the song. “I've come to talk with you again.” 

She opened her window and saw you standing in the middle of the garden. 

You were smiling at her. 

You will never sing to her again.

Now, Sunday mornings, I just sleep in

It's like I buried my faith with you

She was the only one in the church now. The funeral was over — the dead had already been buried, the priest had already spoken, the widow had already cried. The sky and nature were mourning — the whole city was quiet, grieving, reminiscing. Ever since you left, silence has taken over everything. Wednesday used to enjoy it, but now it tortured her — now, while the outside was quiet and still, her mind was disrupted by you; by your singings, by your voice, by your serenades and by your letters. By every single part of you she had lost. 

I'm screamin' at a God, I don't know if I believe in

'Cause I don't know what else I can do

‘Ma noirceur’. It was how you signed all your letters: to Ma noirceur. My darkness; that was how you used to call her when you were alone. In front of other people, you called her Nessie, because she was as ‘mysterious and scary’ as the Loch Ness monster — and because it fitted her. An unknown monster, hiding in the depths of water, powerful and lonely, unreachable for the cowards and ordinary — just like her: you saw how Wednesday behaved, how her blank expression was nothing but a barrer, and you smiled at it. “Lucky me” you used to say “that I’m quirky and bold!” 

“You mean dumb and reckless.” She used to argue back. Then you used to laugh and kiss her. 

Used to.

Just like you used to leave messages in the crystal ball she was now holding. 

“My parents have no say in the matter.” Wednesday said to Thing after watching him gesticulate. “Neither do you.” She shoved him out of the bench; he fell to the ground and signed angrily to her. “Leave me alone.” She ordered, without lowering her gaze to him — without letting her watery eyes be seen. 

The air in the graveyard behind the church was even heavier than before; the oxygen was thick, cold, a warning of the coming storm. The heavens were about to cry, to tear up, to paint the whole city with their melancholy and grieve — and still, they were silent. The clouds moved fastly in the sky, but there was not a sound in the air: no wind blowing, no rain dropping, no branch cracking. There was only Wednesday and you, inside her mind. 

I'm still holdin' on to everything that's dead and gone

I don't wanna say goodbye, 'cause this one means forever

In days like this, sad, cloudy Sundays, you would take her home after church, and stay: you would smile and make her parents laugh with your awful jokes; you would teach Pugsley some of your worst prank; you would arm-wrestle Thing, and lose every time; you would nag Lurch until he played the piano while you sang for all of them; you would woke up all the spirits of the cemetery with your voice and all the Addams would watch your performance; then you would say good night, and leave the house for a few minutes. The rain would fall, the grass would turn to mud and Wednesday would look out of her window. And she would see you there, sitting under a dry tree, waiting for her.

“You will die under this rain.” She said, stepping slowly closer to you. 

“I will only die in your arms, Ma noirceur.” You reached her, and she moved like she had done so many times before: she sat by your side as your arms enfolded her tightly. “That’s better.” You whispered in her ear, your hot breath reaching her face as she turned to look at you. The water falling down on both of you froze your bodies, you were cold, trembling, soaked, and yet, somehow, your voice made her core burn; her face flamed while you smiled at her. But you were kind — you never stared at her for too long, you never laughed or talked about her blushed cheeks, you never asked her to hug you back; you simply held her as the sky collapsed above you. 

You flinched every time a lighting shone on the heavens, and your hands loosened around her ever so slightly. 

She never knew — and she would never know — if you did it on purpose. If moving away after embracing her so kindly was some kind of intentional torture. Because, for her, it was: her skin shivered as you distanced yourself, and she grasped you closer in a reflex. In an urge. In a need she would only show to you — only then, under the rain, when the sounds of the thunders and whispers of the winds sounded like the most beautiful choir around you. When, under her touch, you were hers, and hers alone; When you smiled while her lips found yours.

While her world spinned at the perfect pace, even though her heart was beating like never before. 

You tasted cold, soaked yet sweet; natural, like dew, and her head got light once you moved slightly away.

“I love you, Wednesday Addams.” You spoke between laughs before kissing her again. 

You were completely different from Tyler. 

Tyler’s lips were warm, bitter, almost dry. His kiss made her stomach churn as yours torched her whole skin. He opened her eyes while you could keep her in the dark forever. 

Now she missed it: she missed the darkness, she missed the rain, she missed you.

The storm wasn’t the same without you. The silence reigned without you by her side. It was torture, of the worst kind. 

Then she asked herself again: for what reason?

For what reason did she make you go forever?

Now you're in the stars and six-feet's never felt so far

Here I am alone between the heavens and the embers

“The dead will miss you, my dearest.” Morticia sounded sad. It was disturbing to hear such a sweet, calm voice speaking like this. Like you were dead. You felt like you were — and now, you were indeed dead for the Addams. No matter how much you loved Gomez, Morticia and Pugsley, you couldn’t handle seeing them. You couldn’t bear talking and laughing with them while every single thing made you remember Wednesday — made you remember the boy she kissed while ignoring your letters. Made you remember her betrayal. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to meet one last time?” Meet her. Gomez was still hoping for a reconciliation between you two. “You can always come here, you know that, mi cariño.” 

“I know, sir, and I appreciate it.” Gomez frowned as you spoke. You haven't called him "sir" in years. “But I don’t think Wednesday would like it.” You tried to smile, but failed. Tears were about to fall from your eyes again. “I’m really sorry but I think…I think it’s really over.” You whispered. “Please send Pugsley my goodbye.”

You lost Wednesday. Now you lost your family too. 

“We will, Y/N.”

“Adíos.”

Oh, it hurts so hard

For a million different reasons

You took the best of my heart

And left the rest in pieces

“Come on, Y/N!” Your friend held your feet and dragged you across the bedroom floor. “We didn't make your manager go through hell to back off now!”

“I hate you!” You grunted from the ground, your voice muffled by your hands. “Let me suffer.” You whined. “This is what makes a good artist!”

“Exactly! Turn this into something!” 

You took your hands off your face.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean ‘stop crying and get yourself together!’” She grabbed you by your shoulders and made you sit up. “Let’s answer the questions from the fans and then you can play your new song.” Your friend held your face, forcing you to look at her. “Please.” She pleaded. “I haven’t heard your voice in days.”

“I don’t have a new song.” You mumbled.

“You do. I know you do!” She bit her lips, shaking her head in order to not shake you. “Get. Up.”

A week. You were in your bedroom for a week now and you wrote like never before. You have already done most of your new album. There was only one song missing — the song you have been mulling inside your head over and over again, incapable of singing it. You remained in silence for days because you could not force yourself to sing it — you could not say goodbye for her, not yet. 

But you had to. 

“HELL YES!” Your friend cheered as you stood up. “I’ll grab your guitar!”

I'm still holdin' on

Holdin' on, holdin' on

Your phone vibrated inside your coat’s pocket. You saw the screen and frowned immediately: an unknown number.

The call was answered and you held the phone to your ear.

“Hi, Y/N.”

Wednesday. 

“I…I have to…” 

You closed your eyes — a tear ran down your cheek as your breath faltered. Your whole body trembled as you struggled to remain in silence. 

“Y/N?”  You put the cell phone away. “Are you there?”

You ended the call.

I'm still holdin' on to everything that's dead and gone

I don't wanna say goodbye 'cause this one means forever

Now you're in the stars and six-feet's never felt so far

Here I am alone between the heavens and the embers

Wednesday continued to sit alone, watching the rain fall over the cemetery while your friend returned with the camera and your guitar. She stayed silent as questions and likes popped up

on your cell phone screen. The rain mingled with her tears as your eyes finally dried. 

It was over. It was over.

The last question from your fans finally made you accept it. 

“Any new song?” Your friend read the question on the screen. You were already holding your guitar by the time she turned around to smile at you. “What is your answer, Y/N L/N?”

You started to sing. 

It was your goodbye.

Oh, it hurts so hard

For a million different reasons

You took the best of my heart

Left the rest in pieces

@tundra1029 @unknownvibesve @carolcunha7 @myfturn

[blondelover2772]

The Book

CHAPTER 3

Larissa Weems x (adult) Wednesday Addams

WARNINGS: angst, drama, romance, comfort, fluff, Christmas, age difference, adult Wednesday, lonely Larissa, sex, oral sex, vaginal fingering, sexual inexperience, love, cat and happy ending :)

WORD COUNT: 20,000+

about conscience, about forgiveness and about love

The last chapter with our beautiful ladies.

Enjoy.

Standing at a large window, covered with frosty patterns, Larissa looked with a smile at the snow-covered trees, that looked like bizarre ice sculptures. Snowflakes, like small fluffs, cleansed nature with a soft and white blanket, erasing disgusting dirt and gloomy blackness. Stroking the soft fur of Donut sitting on the windowsill and also closely watching the falling snow, the woman thought about everything. Two days ago, she could not have imagined that she would be waiting with such trembling impatience for Christmas to come, so that she could decorate the Christmas tree with Wednesday Addams. Life can turn an established routine into an unexpected direction so quickly that a person sometimes does not understand when and how everything has changed so dramatically. But such changes are not always bad. Now a small but hope has settled in Larissa's soul. The hope for something light and kind. What an irony. After all, this something seems to be brought by the darkest person she has ever known. Although now such a description was more suitable for the past Wednesday. During these two days, they became so close that Larissa knew for sure that today's Wednesday could feel and experience strong emotions. Guilt, regret, sadness, fear — all were molded into a kind of painful lump, which, unable to withstand the strain, simply exploded into bitter tears, revealing the real Wednesday and exposing her vulnerable soul. And forcing Larissa to bare her own in return. Two souls, so cruelly wounded by Thornhill, Crackstone and all subsequent events, finally opened up to each other. And these wounded souls will celebrate Christmas together today.

Larissa went to the huge steel stove and examined the contents of a clay baking tray. Knowing the deepest traumas of the girl's soul the woman had no idea what kind of food Wednesday preferred. Therefore, she decided that the most suitable dish would be baked vegetables. Neatly sliced zucchini, eggplant, tomatoes, peppers, potatoes and mushrooms, richly flavored with marinade according to a secret recipe, were just waiting to go into the oven for the arrival of the guest. Larissa has always loved cooking. It was one of the few hobbies that distracted her from the constant string of unpredictable events at the academy. Cooking had a truly calming effect on her, comparable to deep meditation.

Choosing Pinot noir for vegetables the woman placed crystal glasses on a white round table. She can't even remember the last time she had dined at it. Usually Larissa had breakfast at the bar reading the daily newspaper Jericho News, lunch predictably always took place in the native walls of Nevermore, and the woman preferred to have dinner on the couch watching some old movie about love, which she desperately needed right now. But today everything will be different. She won't be alone today. Whatever unknown intentions Wednesday had, she still agreed to come. And this already says a lot. The girl never does what she doesn't want to do. But what does she want from Larissa now? Confirmation of forgiveness? Become a friend for her? Or there is something more? Wednesday's strange behavior and reactions to Larissa's proximity suggested such crazy thoughts. And is the woman ready to give her something in return? Perhaps soon she will get answers to these questions.

“Today you sleep in your bed.” The woman looked reproachfully at Donut, which constantly lay down on the table, as if there was no other suitable place to sleep in the entire apartment.

Glancing at the two white candles that she had put on the dining table in the morning Larissa doubted whether the meeting of two... Two whom? Would seem too romantic?

At the same moment, the huge clock struck three times, and at the same time the doorbell rang.

Wednesday. Punctual this time.

Reaching the mirror next to the front door Larissa carefully examined her reflection: immaculately styled hair, luminous porcelain skin, bright red lips, a snow-white silk dress above the knee, favorably emphasizing the figure, and classic white pumps. Perfect and flawless. Satisfied with her appearance Larissa exhaled and opened the door with a radiant smile.

What a beautiful creature appeared before her eyes. Wednesday was gorgeous: tight-fitting trousers, in which were tucked a top that delicately accentuated the cleavage area, a straight unbuttoned coat with a collar and shoes with huge heels. All the wardrobe items, of course, are black. The girl was incredibly beautiful. Small snowflakes in her loose, slightly curly hair added charm to her already cute face.

Finally teared herself from contemplating the charming picture, Larissa opened the door wider, inviting the girl to go inside.

“Wednesday.”

“Larissa.”

After exchanging formal greetings, Wednesday followed the woman into the bright apartment. Suddenly, a four-legged friend jumped out from around the corner, like a small hurricane, examining an unfamiliar guest with interest.

“This is Donut.” The woman introduced her cat to Wednesday.

“Donut?” The girl couldn't hide her surprised smile as she examined the fluffy pet.

“It's a long story.” Larissa waved her hand, not wanting to admit to Wednesday the true reason for choosing such an unusual name for the cat.

Going into the living room, the woman took one last look at the box with Christmas toys and the tree, which she took out in advance and put next to the dining table so as not to shorten the already unknown duration of the meeting.

“I decided to bake vegetables,” Larissa went to the stove and placed the clay baking tray in the oven, turning on the timer. “Unfortunately, I am not aware of your taste preferences, so vegetables seemed to me the best option.” The woman turned away from the stove and noticed that Wednesday had already taken off her coat. Without it, her figure was perfect, the top accentuated her small rounded breasts, and the trousers seductively hugged her perfect buttocks. Larissa automatically licked her lips, examining the girl, receiving in response the same examining look, but already of her own wardrobe.

“This is the most correct option. Because I respect death and never eat the flesh of suffering animals.” Wednesday gently stroked Donut and looked at the Christmas tree.

“We can start right now.” Larissa suggested, catching the girl's eye.

“Yes,” Wednesday came closer to the bar, “but first I would like something to drink.” The girl asked, either from thirst, or from embarrassment.

Larissa understandingly approached the dining table and took the crystal glasses. Placing them on the countertop next to the girl, the woman opened the wine cabinet and took out a worn bottle of wine that she was saving for a special occasion. Today can definitely be considered that way. Deftly removing the cork, Larissa poured the fragrant wine, feeling Wednesday's gaze on her.

“Pinot noir, vintage 1989. It's a divine thing.” The woman said, handing the girl a crystal glass.

Wednesday looked at Larissa carefully, and then at the wine.

“Or did you want something else?” A sudden realization came over the woman. “You can't drink alcohol yet.” Larissa often forgot that the smart, precocious girl had not yet turned twenty-one, the age when she can drink strong drinks.

“Do I look like a person who follows the established rules?” Wednesday raised an eyebrow and took the proffered glass from the woman's hand.

Larissa looked at Wednesday with a smile. Still, at least this cheeky girl is eighteen.

“Well, Merry Christmas.” The woman said and reached for Wednesday’s glass.

“Merry Christmas.” The girl echoed her, and the pleasant tinkle of crystal rang through the living room.

The wine, gently pouring over the body, added a pleasant calmness. Right now, that's exactly what Larissa needed. Wednesday, as in the case with coffee, drank almost the entire glass in one gulp and put it on the countertop.

“Be careful, the wine is very strong and aged. It can turn your head quickly.” The woman cautioned carefully, not yet ready to imagine what she can expect from Wednesday under the influence of a lot of alcohol.

“Maybe I want something aged and strong to turn my head.” The girl took a last sip of Pinot noir, and her gaze slowly slid over Larissa's body, stopping at her lips.

Now all this did not look at all like a game of the sick imagination of a lonely woman. Wednesday seemed to test the woman with her seductive gaze, from which several scenarios of the desired end of tonight flashed through Larissa's head at the moment. And one is more vulgar than the other.

A sudden rustling at the Christmas tree made the woman distract herself from indecent thoughts. Donut was sitting next to the box and was intently chewing on a Christmas garland.

“I'm afraid if we don't start right now, there will be nothing to decorate the tree with.” Larissa smiled at the girl.

Wednesday shifted her gaze to the cat and smiled too. It was incredibly pleasant to watch such unusual and positive emotions on her face.

Approaching Donut, the girl freed the garland of sharp teeth.

“After such a meal, your stomach will hurt a lot.” Wednesday gently patted the cat behind the ears.

From such a touching picture, the smile on Larissa's face spread even wider. She went closer to the box with toys and took out a large red ball from it.

“The last time I decorated a Christmas tree was about ten years ago.” Larissa nostalgically recalled her Christmas tree, which she joyfully decorated for Christmas, when she was appointed as the principal of Nevermore Academy.

“And what has changed this year?” Larissa felt the girl was very close. Turning around, the woman saw Wednesday's face so close that she could see all her freckles. How she wanted to run my hand over her cheek right now.

“A new kind of outcasts appeared in Nevermore, the mayor of Jericho finally went to prison for corruption, and Sheriff Galpin voluntarily resigned, handing over his place to a very promising young man,” Larissa answered not the question that the girl really asked her. Deciding to continue the stupid game, the woman turned to Wednesday. “What has changed for you this year?” Larissa's gaze did not leave the charming face.

The girl began to concentrate on hanging red balloons on fluffy branches.

“I've almost published my first book, I'm going to take the Harvard entrance exams soon, and...” Suddenly Wednesday stopped talking.

Larissa stared at the girl expectantly, for some reason afraid to hear more.

Instead of answering, Wednesday stretched out her hand to the very top of the tree, trying to reach the branch. The strap of her top wrapped up a little, treacherously exposing the red strap of her bra. Larissa's pupils instantly dilated, and her throat went dry. The girl, without even noticing it, was simply driving her crazy with her direct sexuality.

“And even with those high heels, I can't reach the top of the tree.” Wednesday gave up trying to hang the balloon on the branch and handed it to the woman.

Larissa, as if mesmerized, examined the shoulder of the girl with the sticking out red strap. The idea of drinking wine with Wednesday was a bad one. Very bad. The girl, apparently noticing the lack of reaction, followed the woman's gaze and abruptly adjusted the top to a decent position. Larissa looked into Wednesday's black eyes, not hiding the desire in her own eyes. For some reason, she no longer cared that the girl would see it.

Finally, taking the ball from Wednesday's hands, the woman slid her fingers over the girl's hand, from which she exhaled loudly and closed her eyes.

The sudden squeak of the oven announced the readiness of the dish.

“The vegetables are ready.” Quickly pulling her hand back, Larissa hung the ball on the very top of the Christmas tree and went to the stove.

After taking out the steaming vegetables, all she could think about right now was Wednesday's body in red underwear. Larissa slammed the oven door loudly, the temperature of which was now definitely below her body temperature. Hearing the approaching sound of heels behind her, the woman turned around.

“They're so hot,” Wednesday said, examining Larissa's lips, “I need something so I don't get burned.” The girl looked at the baking tray and smiled.

This girl will be definitely the death of her.

Without further ado, the woman handed Wednesday a large towel, in which the girl immediately wrapped the baking tray and carried the dish to the dining table. Having brought her breathing back to normal a little, Larissa followed and saw the girl was already lighting candles. The woman arched an eyebrow questioningly.

“They can't just stand there. Although I would prefer black or red, but judging by the exterior decoration, these colors definitely do not fall into the category of favorites.” The girl blew out the match and slowly glanced at Larissa's snow-white dress, causing a wave of goosebumps and inappropriate feelings all over her body.

The woman pushed back a high chair and sat down, watching as Wednesday, picking up a spatula lying on the table, began gallantly putting vegetables on a plate.

“That's enough,” Larissa said politely and added. “Large portions of food are detrimental to my figure.”

“I don't think that such an ideal figure can be ruined by something.” Without looking up, the girl put more vegetables in Larissa's plate and repeated the same thing with her plate.

Trying to control her emotions from Wednesday's words, the woman took a deep breath and began to look around the living room. The fireplace crackled softly, fluffy snow was falling outside the window, Donut finally went to sleep in his bed, an appetizing dish was on the table. Even two. The second is in the form of her former student, shamelessly provoking the woman.

Frustrated, Larissa reached for the open bottle of wine and poured new portions of a soothing potion into the glasses.

“These are the most delicious vegetables I've eaten in my entire life.” The girl closed her eyes and slowly licked her fork.

“Thank you.” Finally starting dinner, the woman thanked, carefully chewing each piece. “I cook very rarely, but I really love this activity.”

“Is it as rare as a Christmas tree appears in this apartment?”Returning to her favorite sarcastic path, the girl examined the not fully decorated Christmas tree.

“A little more often,” Larissa smiled and continued, “I practically have no time for anything other than the academy.” Finishing the rest of the wine, the woman looked carefully at Wednesday. “Including my personal life, as you accurately noticed in the Weathervane.” Larissa did not really want to bring up unpleasant memories but she really wanted to get the girl to talk.

Wednesday tensed a little, picking at the vegetables on her plate with a fork.

“Sometimes I say things that...” the girl looked at Larissa, “I'm sorry if my words could hurt you.” Wednesday took a sip of wine, obviously trying to calm herself from an uncharacteristic act of apology.

“Wednesday, everything is fine,” Larissa dabbed her lips with a napkin. “You told the truth. And it's stupid to be offended by the truth, no matter what it is.” The woman did not want to pretend to be a heroine-lover after the girl revealed her innermost feelings to her. But Larissa desperately wanted to know more about Wednesday's personal life.

“What about you?” The woman took a sip of wine, trying to find the right words. “Is there any special person in your life?”

Wednesday tensed even more and silently looked at the vegetables on her plate. The silence was becoming unbearable.

“Yes, but this person does not know that he is so special to me,” the girl finally raised her head and her gaze went over the woman's body again, as if she meant ... No. This can't be happening. Or maybe?

“Maybe you should give that person a hint about that.” Larissa herself did not understand why she was saying all this. Probably because of the illusory hope that this special person might be herself. The wine definitely went to her head.

“Maybe.” Having finished with the vegetables, Wednesday pushed her empty plate away and looked out the window, making it clear that she did not intend to continue talking about personal matters anymore.

Larissa understandingly gathered the plates and the baking tray from the dining table and put everything in the dishwasher. Maybe next time she'll be able to get more of personal information out of the girl. After wiping her hands with a towel, the woman turned around and found Wednesday with the garland in her hands.

“It seems to me that it was right to hang it before the toys.” The girl carefully traced a thin wire around the fluffy branches, trying not to drop the hanging balls.

“Do you see the right people here somewhere?” With a smile, Larissa approached Wednesday, helping to throw the wires of the garland to the very top.

The girl smiled sweetly back at her. The woman wish that smile would never leave girl’s charming face.

Finally wrapping the whole garland around the Christmas tree, the woman put the plug into the socket, and the living room lit up with a warm flickering light.

“Now it's perfect,” Larissa looked at Wednesday, who, like a small child, was smiling at the lighted Christmas tree, “only Christmas gifts are missing.”

Suddenly, the girl's cheerful gaze became serious, and she walked over to the chair where her bag was lying. After a few seconds, Wednesday pulled out something red and flat.

“Merry Christmas,” The girl came up to Larissa and held out, what now the woman saw, an old record. “It...” Wednesday paused, as if choosing the right words, “Its color is very similar to the lips of the special person.” The girl's eyes ran over the Christmas tree, toys and everything else, but not the eyes opposite.

Larissa looked at the title on the record with interest. The best love songs. In sincere perplexity, the woman mechanically ran her finger over her lips. Red lips. And then she seemed to be electrocuted. Wednesday gave her the record with love songs, the red box of which reminds the girl of the lips of the special person. Is this all a sick mind game, or does Wednesday really want to tell Larissa what she's thinking? Trying to collect her jumping thoughts, the woman hypnotized the box with her gaze, as if the answer could magically appear on it.

“Thank you.” Larissa finally looked at the girl, whose cheeks were now covered with a barely perceptible blush.

Pulling the record out of the box, the woman walked over to the fireplace, next to which there was an old vinyl record player. After simple manipulations, the soft voice of Bryan Adams sounded in the living room, unwilling to voice his feelings in words, further confusing Larissa's thoughts. After throwing a few logs into the fireplace, the woman felt that Wednesday was already standing behind her. Turning around, Larissa found the girl indecently close.

“This…” Wednesday said softly, “is the second gift.”

Larissa saw a small blue book in the girl's hands and was surprised to find her favorite novel, which she had just taken off the shelf in Wednesday's apartment yesterday.

“It resembles the eyes of the special person. The same blue and infinitely deep.” The girl said, this time not hiding her gaze from the woman.

Larissa stared into the black eyes opposite, completely having no idea what to say or do.

“More wine?” The woman suggested, just to buy time and distract Wednesday, who was looking at her intently, waiting for some kind of reaction.

"With pleasure.” Said the girl, who now sounded disappointed.

Larissa went to the bar and filled glasses with wine, pondering the unexpected information. Is she really that special person? The woman just couldn't believe it. There must be another logical explanation for all this. Picking up two glasses, Larissa walked over to Wednesday, who was standing by the crackling fireplace.

“We can move to the couch. It will be more convenient for us there,” the woman realized in horror how ambiguous such an invitation sounded, and added, “it will be more convenient to talk.”

Wednesday smiled at Larissa's obvious embarrassment and took the glass from her hands. Similarly to the previous ones, the girl drank it in one gulp and put it on a small table by the fireplace. It looks like Wednesday is just as nervous as her.

Sitting down on the sofa, Larissa motioned for the girl to join, who immediately turned out to be very close. After drinking some wine, the woman looked into the burning flame. Right now, she just wanted to talk about safe topics. And don't think about Wednesday‘s special person, who, apparently, is Larissa herself. Glancing at the book the girl had given her, the woman remembered that she had wanted to ask Wednesday yesterday, but the right moment had not come.

“I noticed that there are thirteen chapters in the contents of your book, and you wrote only twelve.” Larissa looked from the fireplace to the girl, now so beautifully illuminated by the soft light of the fire. How she would like to lose herself in her warmth and tenderness right now. Wednesday watched the logs crackle slowly in the fireplace.

“The thirteenth chapter could not have been written then,” the girl turned her gaze to Larissa, “then I still did not know how the complicated relationships of the main characters would end up.”

After these words, Larissa understood without any doubt what this cheeky girl was talking about. She had come to Jericho not only for forgiveness, but also for the woman's reaction. Wednesday is waiting for her reaction to finally complete her book.

“And now?” Larissa, no longer able to hide her desire, glanced at the curves of the girl's body, stopping at the contemplation of plump and such inviting lips. “Now do you know?”

Wednesday didn't say anything and got up from the couch and walked over to the chair with her bag. Bending down a little, the girl pulled something out of it. But all Larissa could see was a view of her breasts in the red lace bra and black hair cascading down her shoulders. The wine only increased the insatiable desire to possess this girl.

Returning to the sofa, Wednesday looked at Larissa carefully. Now she saw a crumpled piece of paper in the girl's hands, which she carefully unfolded and began to smooth out. The woman did not take her eyes off the beautiful face while Wednesday looked at the sheet in some indecision.

“I always knew what one of the heroines wanted,” the girl finally handed Larissa the crumpled piece of paper, “and now my book has a real title.”

The woman took the crumpled sheet from Wednesday's hand. Her heart was beating at breakneck speed, her thoughts were in a chaotic heap. What can be written there? Exhaling a little, Larissa looked at the long-suffering first page of the manuscript, which now actually has a title.

The book about conscience, about forgiveness and about love.

Love. The woman's heart did a sharp somersault.

But there was no love in the book. Yet. Wednesday couldn't write thirteen chapter back then, not knowing if the feelings of the main characters would be mutual. The woman easily translated the metaphorical language of the narrative into an understandable human one — Wednesday is in love. She is really in love. And Larissa is the special person the girl is in love with. This obnoxious and arrogant girl confessed her love to the woman in such a sophisticated way. But a person like Wednesday couldn't have done it any other way. She would never say it directly. The girl is just afraid of her feelings. She is afraid to even say it out loud. She is afraid that Larissa will cause her pain and suffering again. But how could she? Of all the people in this vast world, Wednesday chose her. The woman who practically threw the girl into the arms of death. A woman twice her age. A woman who lives at work. A woman who just doesn't remember what it's like to have a loved one around. And a woman who now wants to remember it. Life is cruel. Life throws challenges and trials every day. Life is very short. And that is why life is worth throwing away all stupid doubts and plunging headlong into the most powerful and wonderful feeling.

Larissa carefully placed the confession sheet on the low table and finally looked at Wednesday. The girl's face was still beautiful, but now there was an incredible relief in her gaze, as if Wednesday had finally revealed to her all that she had been hiding for so long. Now her eyes roamed freely over Larissa's eyes, lips, arms, chest and body. The girl's face became even more beautiful in its sincere frankness.

“Your book deserves a happy ending.” The woman said softly and covered Wednesday's hand with her own. For the first time, the interlaced fingers caused a pleasant wave of warmth and arousal in Larissa. And now she was not at all ashamed to openly look at the girl's cleavage. Wednesday looked at the interlaced fingers, exhaled raggedly and closed her eyes. The woman licked her lips, looking at the girl's parted lips, which she wanted to kiss right this second. Squeezing Wednesday's hand tighter, Larissa heard rapid breathing. But it was quite obvious that the girl was still afraid to take the first step, she was waiting for some kind of reaction or action from the woman. Moving closer so that their legs were now touching, Larissa touched the girl's chin with her free hand. Black eyelashes opened, and Wednesday's eyes looked at the woman with undisguised desire. Larissa removed a strand of black hair that had fallen on the girl's face and slowly ran her fingers over the soft white cheek. To hell with the doubts. To hell with the pain. To hell with the loneliness. To hell with everything.

“Kiss me.” Larissa whispered softly.

Wednesday froze, apparently in disbelief at her own ears. After a few seconds, the girl's fingers painfully slowly and hesitantly slid over her forearm, neck and stopped at her lips. At the last touch, Larissa closed her eyes and exhaled deeply. Suddenly, the pleasant touches disappeared. When she opened her eyes, she saw Wednesday's face very close. And at that moment, the plump lips of the girl gently covered Larissa's lips, frozen in anticipation of a response. And the woman answered with great joy. Finally feeling those beautiful soft lips on her own, Larissa's heart began to beat like it had never beaten in her long life. The sweet wine taste of Wednesday's lips was more intoxicating than the most expensive wine. The girl let out a soft moan of pleasure, which became the last straw, and Larissa's tongue penetrated into Wednesday's expectant mouth. The kiss was getting faster, hotter, more desperate. The woman's arms hugged the girl tightly, as if wishing to never let her go. To protect and to love Wednesday was all that mattered in Larissa Weems' life now.

***

Wednesday's heart was about to burst out of her chest, and its rhythmic pounding was the only discernible sound that was now throbbing in her ears. All her explicit dreams, erotic fantasies and arousing visions combined could not be compared to the real feeling of Larissa's hot lips on her own. The sweet scent of lipstick, mixed with the special scent of the woman, practically lifted Wednesday to the top of sexual pleasure.

“Oh, my God…” Due to lack of air, the girl tore herself away from the sweet lips and, breathing raggedly, looked attentively at Larissa. Her usually blue eyes were now almost black, and the flames of the burning fireplace were reflected in the huge pupils. Wednesday's much-loved red lipstick was now smeared over lips swollen from the kiss, making them seem even more tempting and desirable. Is this real and not some kind of dream?

Looking down at Larissa's chest, which was rising and falling rapidly from rapid breathing, Wednesday tentatively covered it with her hand and pulled the woman back to her lips. Through the thin silk of the dress, the girl felt lace underwear, which hid a pleasant and warm softness. Already simply unable to resist the arousal that burned in her, Wednesday deftly climbed onto Larissa's lap, straddling her lush hips covered with snow-white silk.

At the same moment, the girl felt the confident touch of hands on her buttocks, slowly moving to her back and finally covering her breasts. Wednesday leaned forward and felt that she was already on the verge of orgasm. Never in her life had the girl turned on so quickly. But with Larissa, everything was different. She wasn’t like anyone else. She was the special person.

Tearing herself away from so sweet lips, Wednesday attacked with wet kisses porcelain and so soft neck, which she dreamed of so much on lonely nights. The woman's perfume was simply intoxicating, awakening a whirlwind of unknown emotions and feelings throughout her body.

“You're incredible.” Larissa whispered softly, sliding her hot tongue over the girl's neck, driving her almost into a frenzy.

The next thing Wednesday felt was the woman's fingers penetrating the tight waistband of her trousers and releasing the tucked-in top. Now there are no barriers left between Larissa's beautiful hands and the girl's skin. As if in a daze, Wednesday pulled away from the woman and looked into the bottomless blue eyes.

“I really want these hands...” without taking her eyes off Larissa, the girl brought her hand to her lips and began showering delicate kisses on her elegant fingers, “but in a different place.”

With a knowing smile, the woman arched an eyebrow.

“And where is it?” Larissa touched the girl's flat stomach with her free hand, tracing simple patterns on it with short red nails.

From such touches, Wednesday almost entered a state of absolute ecstasy. Now she really doubted that she could hold out until Larissa touched her where the girl wanted it most.

Abruptly releasing the woman's hand and causing confusion in her eyes, Wednesday took off her top in one motion and threw it somewhere in the direction of the dining table. If Larissa's gaze had been hungry before, now it has become simply devouring. Reaching for the clasp of the red lace bra, the girl freed herself from the last detail of the wardrobe, separating her bare breasts from Larissa's greedy eyes and lips.

Without taking her eyes off the perfect face for a second, Wednesday slowly began to unbutton her trousers with her right hand, revealing the red lace of underwear to the woman's misty gaze. Larissa, as if mesmerized, watched the intimate process, breathing even faster. Wednesday took Larissa's hand again and, closing her eyes, slowly dipped her fingers into her mouth. Those fingers were perfect. A real work of art, which should be celebrated by the great artists of the world on their canvases.

A sweet moan of pleasure escaped from the red lips, and Wednesday felt Larissa's legs tighten under her weight. After that, the girl was no longer able to give herself up to foreplay. Freeing her now wet fingers from her hot mouth, Wednesday confidently guided the woman's hand into her unbuttoned trousers to meet the main source of pleasure.

From the first contact of Larissa's fingers with the aroused flesh, the girl exhaled and threw her head back from incredible pleasure. The woman let out a long moan, apparently satisfied with how aroused Wednesday was. Her red lace underwear was soaked through.

“Now red will become my favorite color.” Larissa said in a languid voice and pulled the girl closer to her, showering her neck with insatiable kisses. “You are so wet, my girl.”

With these words, the woman began to slowly move her hand, forcing Wednesday to forget about everything and only breathe quickly from the long-awaited touches.

“My girl...” Wednesday opened her eyes with an effort and looked at Larissa, “I like how it sounds.”

“Do you?” The woman's hand moved faster, but did not penetrate inside. “That's exactly how you are recorded in my phone,” Larissa's lips touched the tangled hair, kissing the delicate skin next to her ear. “Seeing you that evening, in wet clothes, so incredibly sexy, all I could think about was that I want you to be mine. And you are mine, aren't you?”

“I am…” Wednesday was overwhelmed with emotions from skillful finger movements and the realization that Larissa had wanted her all this time. She wanted her in the Weathervane, she wanted her at home, she wanted her in the kitchen. The girl did’t make it up.

At the same moment, Wednesday felt a hot tongue slowly slide off her neck and move to her chest. Larissa's lips gently wrapped around a hardened nipple. Exhaling raggedly, Wednesday pressed the woman's head tighter, allowing her to work incredible miracles with her aroused body.

Burying her hands in the perfectly coiffed hairstyle, Wednesday began to randomly pull the pins out of her hair, allowing Larissa's large curls to fall over her graceful shoulders. The woman pulled away from the girl's chest and looked up at her. Now Wednesday was taller, now Wednesday could see what only a select few could see: a slight blush on her cheeks, lips swollen from hot kisses and loose hair, Larissa looked at her with such animal desire that the girl simply could no longer restrain herself. The first orgasm that Larissa gave her was the culmination of the pleasure of intimacy with this magnificent woman. Wednesday's breathing was so labored, as if she had run a marathon. The best and most enjoyable marathon of her entire life.

Larissa took her hand out of Wednesday's underwear and, bringing her wet fingers to her mouth, slowly began to lick off the traces of orgasm with her tongue.

“You're so delicious, my girl.” Larissa said softly, without taking her blue eyes off Wednesday.

From such a sensual sight and teasing words, a new wave of arousal overwhelmed the girl. She couldn't imagine wanting so much after the release that had just occurred. Wednesday eagerly covered Larissa's lips, feeling her own taste in the woman's mouth. The girl really wanted more. But this time she wanted more, she wanted deeper, she wanted to absorb Larissa with her body.

Pulling away from the woman's lips, Wednesday slid her tongue along woman’s chin, moving closer to her ear.

“I want these fingers to be inside me now.” The girl began to cover the woman's neck with kisses as light as butterfly touches.

“And you turn out to be insatiable,” Larissa said with a smile and, slightly pushing Wednesday's head away from her neck, added, “take off all your clothes.”

The girl didn't have to be told twice. The woman's imperious tone wanted to obey implicitly. Getting up from Larissa's lap, Wednesday stood next to the blazing fireplace and took off her shoes, which now seemed completely out of place. They were followed by black trousers. Only in her underwear, the girl caught the demanding gaze of the woman. Not even wanting to resist it, Wednesday pulled off her red panties and threw them aside. Finally completely naked, the girl looked at Larissa. The woman slowly lifted the hem of her dress up and slightly spread her perfectly straight legs, revealing the white lace of underwear to Wednesday's greedy gaze.

The invitation was accepted, and the girl was back on Larissa's lap. The feeling of bare thighs on hot and equally bare thighs was simply incredible. Hugging Larissa tighter, Wednesday felt her flesh come into contact with the lace of woman’s underwear, which caused another moan of pleasure to escape from her chest. Already in a complete frenzy, the girl crushed her lips into the woman's parted lips. Now the kiss was rough, desperate, and very wet. Just like the girl herself. As well as the silk hem of Larissa's dress, absorbing the juices of the incessant arousal of Wednesday.

Without interrupting the kiss, the girl felt the woman's hand drop from her back, getting closer to the expiring entrance. Larissa slowly inserted one finger. The girl leaned forward, sitting deeper. But it wasn't enough. She wanted more.

“More,”Wednesday said raggedly, and added softly, “please.”

“Are you sure?” The woman looked at the girl carefully and smiled. “I have very long fingers.”

“Yes…” In fact, Wednesday was sure that after the terrible first time with that guy in the bar, she would be hurt from any penetration. But Larissa's skilled hands brought only pleasant pleasure, which she only wanted to multiply.

Finally, feeling the second finger slowly enter the her, Wednesday tore herself away from Larissa's lips and buried her head in snow-white hair.

“God...” Wednesday breathed out softly. “You are the most beautiful woman.” The girl clumsily tried to cover with kisses any part of Larissa's body that she could only reach in this position. “My woman…”

Flushed, Larissa covered Wednesday's lips with her lips, merging again in a hot and desperate kiss. The woman's hand increased its speed, her fingers curved at a perfect angle, and Wednesday felt everything inside contract pleasantly, and the second orgasm of this wonderful evening spread sweetly all over her body. The melodious voice of Dee Dee Bridgewater rang through the living room, promising to protect love with a wall. And Wednesday is ready to believe that Larissa will really protect all her worries and fears with her love.

Gently kissing the woman's lips, Wednesday for the first time in her life did not know what to say. And is it necessary to say anything at all in such situations? All she can do is to show Larissa her endless love and longing.

With such thoughts, the girl reached for the woman’s perfect back and, without taking her eyes off Larissa, gently pulled down the clasp of the snow-white dress. The woman watched the action without resistance with a smile. Wednesday slowly lifted the silk hem of her dress and gently pulled it up. Larissa elegantly raised her hands, helping the girl to get rid of an obviously superfluous detail. Throwing the dress into a pile with clothes already lying on the floor, Wednesday caught Larissa's gaze, obviously very unhappy with how rudely the girl treats her expensive piece of clothing. But Wednesday didn't care. That disapproving look only made her more excited. Finally, the girl got up from the woman's lap and eagerly began to study the exposed naked parts of Larissa's body: small breasts in a perfectly fitting white bra, a soft, slightly protruding belly, hips with traces of small stretch marks. And in all this imperfection, Wednesday found Larissa to be the most perfect woman in this imperfect world.

Kneeling down, the girl ran her hand over a slender leg. Larissa looked so sexy in her underwear and high heels that Wednesday decided not to take off her shoes.

Instead, the girl leaned forward, and feeling the incredible heat from the woman's body, she hooked the clasp of the bra, freeing her breasts from the lace captivity. Larissa's nipples were so tempting, as if inviting Wednesday to her. Well, is it possible to refuse such an invitation? The girl eagerly pressed her lips to Larissa's chest, from which the woman let out the most beautiful moan of pleasure that Wednesday had heard in her life. Moving to the second breast, the girl's hand gently stroked the inner surface of the soft thigh.

“Wednesday...” It was all that the woman could say as her moans grew louder.

Pulling away from the soft chest, Wednesday looked at Larissa. There was a real fire going on in her eyes, in which she wanted to burn without a trace.

“You're so beautiful…” Wednesday returned to the woman’s swollen lips and kissed them passionately. Meanwhile, the girl's hand went lower, and she felt an incredible heat. The woman's underwear was soaked from overflowing arousal. Slowly running her fingers through the wet lace, Wednesday heard a soft guttural exhalation that instantly awakened another desire in the girl. It was as if the woman had a magic button that triggered emotions and feelings unknown to that moment in Wednesday. But not now. Now everything is just for Larissa's pleasure.

Finally, kneeling down, the girl picked up the last detail of the wardrobe with both hands, separating Larissa and her from complete nudity. Throwing the unwanted object aside, Wednesday spread the woman's legs wider and, leaning forward, greedily pressed her lips to the aroused flesh.

Larissa, unlike Wednesday, did not try to hide her real emotions at all and moaned loudly from the first contact of the girl's tongue with her body.

Having never done this, Wednesday nevertheless intuitively knew what the woman liked, judging by her moans. Larissa's hand was in Wednesday's tangled hair, pushing the girl's head closer to the source of pleasure.

“Yes…” The woman's velvety voice, like honey, poured in her ears. “My girl…”

Encouraged by these words, Wednesday moved her tongue faster and slowly inserted her finger into the aroused woman. Everything was very wet and hot inside. Larissa moaned even louder, and her breathing became ragged and faster. The girl had never imagined that giving pleasure to someone could be so pleasant. Adding a second finger, the girl tore herself away from the woman's lips and looked up at her.

Larissa's chest rose and fell quickly from her labored breathing, her head was thrown back a little, her fingers with a perfect red manicure tightly clutched the armrest of the soft sofa, tousled hair beautifully flowed down her shoulders, her beloved blue eyes were closed and her lips were open, making beautiful moans of pleasure. It's the sexiest thing Wednesday has ever seen in her life. And the most delicious. The girl pressed her lips to the woman again, moving her fingers faster. After a few seconds, Wednesday felt the walls of her vagina tighten, and warm moisture spread over Wednesday's fingers and lips. Larissa's orgasm was more beautiful than the girl imagined it. Licking her lips from the woman's juices, Wednesday straddled Larissa's knees again, but this time they were not separated by extra clothes. Only direct contact of the naked body with the same naked body.

And then it dawned on the girl that this was exactly the moment that she constantly saw in her visions. It was in such sweet bliss that their bodies touched each other, indulging in the most beautiful art of love.

Wednesday wrapped Larissa in a slow kiss.

“Now I know for sure that my visions always come true.” The girl smiled, catching the woman's questioning look at herself.

“Did you see that?” Larissa ran her fingers between the naked bodies, outlining the situation.

“As soon as we touched each other, this scene appeared in my head.” The girl slowly ran her hands through Larissa's soft hair.

“It turns out that everything is much worse than I thought.” The woman laughed sincerely and immediately received a light blow on the shoulder with her hand.

“I can't control my visions.” Wednesday pouted resentfully.

“I know, my girl, I know,” Larissa looked at the girl with tenderness and her gaze became more serious. “Wednesday, are you not afraid of our...” The woman paused, apparently choosing the right words. “Are you not afraid of how different we are?”

“I do not see any problem. I rate people solely by brain size, not by age, gender, or status. And what really scares me is the impossibility of being with you, and at best, enjoying my visions.” The girl looked at the woman carefully, hoping that her words sounded convincing.

“So I should be grateful to my big brain for everything that happened?” Larissa laughed loudly.

From the woman's laughter, Wednesday smiled back, and then looked into the blue eyes with complete seriousness.

“I do not know who to thank,” The girl began, without taking her eyes off Larissa. “Perhaps I should thank those guys who tormented my brother Pugsley, or my crazy parents who forced me to come to Nevermore, perhaps my inability to sit still and thirst for justice, which brought me to your office over and over again.” The girl ran her hand over Larissa's delicate cheek. “Even then, I was subconsciously looking for any meetings with you. Perhaps I should thank Enid, who carefully nurtured different feelings in me day by day, pouring pink vanilla stories about love, friendship and devotion. Maybe I should thank Tyler, who showed that I'm not attracted to guys at all, maybe I should thank Xavier for giving me the phone, or I should thank Thornhill and Crackstone for the long separation from you, which inspired me to write not only the book, but also helped me sort out my confused feelings and emotions. And not just me. It helped me to tell you all this.” Wednesday looked at Larissa tenderly. “I'm just grateful that I can finally kiss these beautiful red lips.” Wednesday's fingers slowly walked over the woman's parted lips. “Look into those bottomless blue eyes, bury my hands in such soft blond hair, caress the most delicate neck and touch the perfect soft breasts.” Wednesday's hand slid over Larissa's chest. “I know the only thing is that whoever or whatever was the reason that brought us to this wonderful moment, I am grateful. Because I'm madly, endlessly, and irrevocably...” Suddenly Wednesday stopped talking. “Because now I'm with the most beautiful and special woman in this disgusting world.”

In obvious amazement at such a sincere monologue from Wednesday, Larissa carefully looked into the girl's eyes, the woman's lips opened and closed, as if wanting to say something. Instead of words, Larissa took Wednesday's hand and put it on her heart, and put her own on the girl's heart.

It was like an electric shock to Wednesday. Their hearts beat together in rhythmic unison.

“You know,” the woman began, “you are the most stubborn, the most intractable and the most unbearable person I know.” Wednesday immediately felt an unpleasant anxiety arising inside. “But at the same time you are the smartest, most loyal, bravest and sexiest girl I have met in my life. And this…" Larissa shifted her gaze to the lonely piece of the manuscript lying on the table. “This is the most beautiful...” The woman suddenly fell silent. “These are the most beautiful words. And...”

“And?” Wednesday asked, although she wasn't sure if she was ready to hear more.

Larissa slowly removed Wednesday's hand from her chest and, lifting the girl from her lap, got up from the sofa. Wednesday watched the naked blonde goddess in fascination. High heels still adorned Larissa's long legs, making them simply endless. With an elegant gait, the woman gracefully disappeared from the girl's view, apparently into one of the rooms.

Not understanding what was happening, Wednesday looked at the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree and remembered her wish made yesterday. Which actually came true. After all, Christmas is a magical time to fulfill your most cherished desires.

Breaking into a silly smile, the girl saw Larissa return to the living room. There was an object in her hand. The woman, without taking her eyes off Wednesday, went to the smoldering fireplace, and taking off her shoes, knelt down near the table. Now the girl realized that the mysterious object in Larissa's hand was an ordinary pen. The woman looked thoughtfully at the long-suffering piece of paper and carefully began to write something on it. Getting up, Larissa approached the girl and with a radiant smile held out the crumpled sheet.

Wednesday looked with genuine interest first at the woman, and then at the first page of her manuscript, on which new words were written in calligraphic handwriting in the traces of dried coffee:

The book about the pangs of conscience, about the power of forgiveness and about mutual love.

Mutual love. Smiling like a Cheshire cat, Wednesday put her lucky sheet on the table and pulled Larissa to her for a gentle kiss.

Now the girl finally knows what the thirteenth chapter will be about. And most importantly, Wednesday knows that her book will have the happiest ending.

P.S. I can't get this story out of my head. So I decided to write a sequel based on their future relationship :)

P.S.S. For those who are curios about the songs.

Bryan Addams - Do I have to say the words?

Dee Dee Bridgewater - Wall of love

@barbarasstar

[sirmariusrenathyr]

(@fallen-shamans-spirit)

*There's a knock on the door, some time early in the morning. With his heightened senses, Marius would be able to hear the sound of panicked muttering from behind the door.*

"You could have done something to prevent this. You could hear her, and you just left them alone. Healing potions wouldn't do shit if she was already dead. That's on you now. Selfish spineless lazy worthless son of a-"

*Marius swings the door open. He looks like he didn't sleep at all and was crying. He also has dried blood all over his mouth and hand from all of the biting he's done to himself*

JERICHO-

*He looks at Yorgrim and it's hard to tell if he's glad to see him or worried. His eyes dart around and all of his movements are jittery*

Yorgrim! Do you know where Jericho is? He- Virgil did something and I yelled at Jericho and he ran away and I don't know where he is and I don't know how to fucking find him!

*His voice starts cracking and he's probably going to breakdown again*

[jolenes-doppelganger]

Twisted Motives (Chpt. 2)

Larissa Weems x Fem!reader

Previous Chapter

Chapter 2: Cat and Mouse

Summary: Following Y's brief encounter with Principal Weems in the forest of Jericho, a new tension bubbles between the two women. All seems lost until both women make a tentative compromise, a sort of olive-branch in their defensive standstill, but when tragedy brings the people of the D'je tribe to their knees, Y is once again faced with the reality that no one is safe, even in the presence of someone who appears to mean well.

Established world-building is critical- Read previous chapter!

Warnings: Angst, fire related tragedy, minor character death, tragedy is the result of a race-fueled hate-crime.

Word Count: 5k words (DAMN)

The deep winter breezes that came down from Canada surged through the reservation. Rain poured down and onto the panels as Y slept. Upon waking up, the rain had disappeared, burned away by the soft golden sunshine that poured through her window panes. She lived in a small two bedroom, one bathroom cottage at the end of Birch Street, a small little road that was obscured from most of the reservation by massive clusters of birch and red maple trees. Y lived alone. Every once in a while Sierra would come spend the night, but the home was virtually empty, devoid of activity. This inactivity led to peaceful, slow-going mornings, mornings that left Y to her thoughts.

This mornings thoughts weren't peaceful, fantasy filled scenes from her most recent book idea, they were anxious, depressed rambles. Her sleep had been a mix of conscious and unconscious stresses. Chief Vera hadn't reacted well to the news of Y's possible sighting, but no one could have blamed Y. The headwinds were strong, coming westward from the coast. It would have taken an exhausting amount of strength to prevent straying that far from the safety of the reservation forests. But that wasn't what troubled Y, it was the look on Larissa's face. Had it been recognition, was it just the light that had tricked Y into misreading her facial expressions? It was complicated, a cumbersome game of memory and personal attachments. By the time Y had replayed that night for the billionth time, the scene had shifted so drastically from true memory that whatever she was chasing would ultimately be untrue, a twisted version of what really happened that night.

Y adjusted her lorid for the billionth time, relieved that she would once again be adding more layers of fabric as the moon waned. Her close call with recognition had left her both exhilarated and deeply troubled. A sighting meant scrutiny, and scrutiny would only lead to outsiders meddling in D'je affairs, poking, prodding, and ensnaring the people in barbed wire accusations and double-edged trick questions. The D'je tribe was united in these fears. It seemed Y wasn't the only close call that night. Asher, a young teenager had flown too close to the city of Jericho and sparked yet another manhunt for the Jersey Devil. The headwinds weren't to blame in his case. But he was young, it was only natural that he would be too curious, too independent, but the tribe had limited patience for such youthful eccentricities. It was reported that a team of paranormal investigators would be traveling into the city within the week, only adding to the hysteria the recent bear attacks had poured upon the sleepy town. The D'je tribe would once again sacrifice their peace, a hyper-vigilance would descend once more, preventing anyone from having the luxury of being a little careless.

But Y wasn't troubled only because of the incident. Larissa herself was a player in this game of fear and blame. It appeared that another body had been spotted upon a hilltop not two miles from the encounter between Weems and Y, a coincidence that bothered Y. True, Larissa Weems was the stunning example of a devoted community member, but the rumors never seemed to cease their badgering of the Nevermore community, no matter how respected. These whispers had reached Y before she had even left town, even in childhood had she known of the rumors of Nevermore, and the strange woman who led the school. Principal Weems was a fellow outcast, a liar, a con-artist, and the most banal and twisted of all the Nevermore freaks, these rumors had declared. Y wasn't one to believe such rumors, to so blindly follow lecherous lies, yet her fears could be described as warranted, even acceptably cautious.

Times were tough. The same sets of eyes that had pushed Y away from her beloved career had once again returned to wreak havoc on her quiet paradise, the home she had the great honor of calling her first. But such thoughts were desolate, conniving. Y wearily shook her head once more, taking a glass in hand and swallowing the various vitamins she'd been prescribed. Taking a moment to collect herself, Y glanced up at the mirror that hung in front of her dresser. The face that looked back was young, well nourished and healthy, yet the eyes were haggard; the eyes of a woman too well accustomed to hardship. Shoving the feeling of despair that threatened to bubble outward, Y slowly gathered her satchel and small backpack that served as a container for both her personal belongings and her lunch.

Making her way out of the door, Y sighed as she was greeted by the brightness of the day. The worst was already behind her.

<^*-------------------*^>

Two short knocks were all the warning Y gave before slowly opening Principal Weem's door. She was expected, and last night's events had done nothing to improve her patience. The sooner this meeting was concluded, the better. Too much time in Larissa's presence could pose to be dangerous.

"Ms. Y, I'm shocked by your assertiveness," Larissa mused, briefly glancing over a document.

Y made no reply. What good was a retort? She stood solemnly against the back of the door, waiting for the cue to come forward.

"Please, be seated," Larissa gestured, and Y became so.

"You've read the documents?"

Y glanced up at Larissa, noting the dark lines that extended below her eyes. She was tense, and distracted, and it worried Y

"At the expense of my prep-period, yes," Y nodded.

Larissa's gaze became fixed upon Y. The document was dropped, and an intense silence filled the room. Y clenched her fist. She was being too defensive.

"I've never known you to be cold, especially to someone who means well," Larissa verbosely murmured.

Y felt a twinge of guilt, like a child being reprimanded for talking back to their mother, but Y wouldn't play that game. For all she knew, Larissa was as aware of what happened the previous night as Y was. Now was not the time to let her guard down.

"I'm sorry Principal Weems, I fear I've let recent events worsen my previously frayed patience,"

Larissa nodded, and Y bit back a sigh. Both women were tense, eyeing each other with caution and a bit of scorn. Gently clasping her hands together, Larissa leveled her head, unclenching her jaw and forcing a smile.

"So, what is your tentative decision?" Larissa asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Y took a measured breath, clearing her throat.

"I have decided to return to New York following the spring semester, a decision I must insist remain permanent," Y calmly stated. "It appears that as rewarding and refreshing as this experience was, I am still inclined to the solitude of personal creation in a city I've come to accept as my home away from home,"

Larissa's smile faltered. Looking down at the document once more she sniffed, raising her eyes upwards, making blisteringly cold eye contact with Y.

"Abandoning your people so soon?"

Y was left speechless. This woman had no right to comment on Y's personal life, her personal relationships!

"I beg your pardon?" Y scoffed. "What sense of community have you mistakenly exalted against me that you would accuse me of turning my back against my own tribe, a tribe you have no claim to!" Y snapped, to the utter astonishment of Larissa.

Clenching her jaw, Larissa cursed under her breath, sniffing in disdain.

"Ms. Y, if you are this defensive to every comment I make, you will find my patience will run dry," Larissa threatened. "I meant that of your Nevermore family, the family you turn your back upon as misfortune takes a brief repose upon the steps of Nevermore!" she continued, voice slowly climbing in both volume and octave.

It was Y's nonplus that brought both women to a standstill. Y slowly mulled over Larissa's words, words sinking in as hot bile crept up her throat.

"Turn my back?" Y hissed. She loved these students, she'd been there for these students! "I have done nothing that would deem me worthy of being accused-"

"-Accuse you of what you rightfully guilty of? Well wouldn't that be an utter shame,"

Y bolted to a standing position, briefly towering over Larissa, watching as an nondescript emotion flickered over her face before she rose to her full height.

"You're running. Running from the rabble, the unceasingly pestering eyes and rumors, and hate-filled lies that have followed you since you were born, and yet you think that yours is too unique a burden to bear. My dear, you are wrong," Larissa heaved, finger situated squarely between Y's collarbones. "You belong here. I refuse to accept your absence, I have come to expect your presence like the ocean expects the pull of the moon,"

For a brief moment, Y was moved to quiet silence. Larissa's words were poetic, touching in a way most intimately caring. But glancing down, Y saw the painted nail that sat just inches away from her chest, and that brief compassion was gone.

"Tell me how you know more about my problems than myself?"

Larissa's gaze became livid, blue eyes filled with such vengeance Y felt she would become scorched if she held it for too long. Curling up her fist, Larissa took a step forward, bending forward until her blue eyes were all Y could see.

"Because I too, am a freak," Larissa croaked.

Tears bubbled up in the rims of Larissa's eyes, and Y couldn't fight the desire to avert her gaze. Slowly taking a step back, Y began to calculate her next response. This conversation should have been an easy yes or no agreement, yet they were clawing at each other's throats like rabid dogs. There would be room for a compromise later, at a future date when the world wasn't so filled with hatred, where both women could calmly come to agreement. So Y would postpone her answer.

"I will make my decision following the end of the spring semester," Y gently stated, turning back towards Larissa.

Larissa's face broke out in a wide smile, teary and relieved in a way that begrudgingly warmed Y's heart. Coming forward, Larissa closed the distance between them. Panic filled Y's mind and she made every effort to stop the embrace of the blessedly tall woman. It was tight, and warm, and messy. But it wasn't relaxing. Every fiber in Y's body screamed to push this woman away before she noticed the bulge on her back, or the unnaturally sturdy build of the lorid. It was over as quickly as it was enacted, and Y breathed a sigh of relief as her lorid remained pinned to her head.

"Sorry, I don't know what came over me," Larissa hastily apologized, "I-I don't usually go to such, erm, affectionate extents to thank fellow educators,"

"It's alright," Y gulped, "Just, never, do that again, especially-" Y trailed off.

Both women stood in awkward silence, avoiding eye-contact and searching for an end to this most unique encounter. Thoughts raced through Y's head, motives and distressed wonderings. She needed an escape, now! The soft ding of the morning school bell broke the tension, and quickly offered an escape plan for both parties. Relief flooded Y's mind and she quickly gathered up her book bag.

"I've got a class to teach, can this wait?" Y hastily asked.

"Yes, we've more to discuss, so I'll meet with you during your prep period?" Larissa nodded.

Y winced a little, headache brewing for the future pesters she would receive about the grade book. Larissa's eyes flickered in understanding.

"Oh, sorry, your papers," Larissa mumbled. "Are you available after hours?"

"Yes," Y called, halfway out the door. "Bye!" she called before making a break for her classroom.

Y left Larissa standing in her classroom, wishing she would have caught a glimpse of her expression before she'd fled.

<^*-----------------*^>

Today's classes were anything but easy-going. Y's students were on edge, jittery and excitedly swapping stories about the Jersey Devil sighting and the human remains found up in the forest. Several theories were drafted, none Y felt were very creative, but it made her prep period sweeter. In truth, the papers were just outlines of a story, the actual "assignment" part of the story piñatas. Following the end of the school day, Y patiently waited for Principal Weems to appear, but no appearance was ever made. The papers were quietly graded, and Y killed the extra time in limbo reorganizing some cabinets that remained unpacked.

Would Y have spent all night waiting? Maybe. But a pressing call from Sierra sent her home at her regular hours. A brief note was scrawled and left on her desk, should Larissa finally attend their meeting, but Y doubted she would read it. The phone call itself that drew Y from work? Another problem.

"Chief Vera has called an emergency gathering. It's bad," Sierra cried from the other end of the phone.

"Sierra, what happened?" Y solemnly asked.

Her sister just cried, and Y could make out the sound of sirens. had someone died?

"Just get here as fast as possible," Sierra pleaded

The entire drive to the reservation was tense. Barely acknowledging stop-signs and speed limits, Y's driving was reckless, hastily flicking turn signals on and off indiscriminately to the frustration of other drivers. Pulling into the reservation, Y was met with flashing lights and the drone of police sirens. An ambulance and firetruck blocked the main entrance to the reservation, so Y was forced to turn around and take the backroads. Pulling onto the gravel roads, into the neighborhood, Y gasped as she saw the giant plume of smoke that trailed up through the trees. Finding a parking spot a good 300 feet from the burning building, Y sprinted towards the mass of people that gathered around the taped off evacuation area.

The gathering hall was up in flames. Tribe members gathered around and wailed in anguish as firefighters attempted to put out the fire. Running up to the crowd, Y began to scream for her sister and her mother, scanning the crowd for their heads. A pair of hands grabbed Y's shoulder, and she turned around in shock to meet the embrace of Sierra.

"Y, oh my god," Sierra sobbed.

She was a mess, clothes hanging off her frame; she'd dressed in a hurry. Her knees and hands were singed with soot. Damn her, she shouldn't have put herself in danger!

"What happened?" Y gasped, tears filling her eyes.

"Someone set fire to the hall while Aunt Cara was taking the kindergartners on a brief tour of the moon pool," Sierra sobbed. "Someone threw in a Molotov cocktail, the place went up in flames immediately!"

Bright amber flames surged as plumes of dark smoke clouded the sky. Barriers kept the group away from their hall, men, women, children and elderly all gathered around in a group of hundreds, crying and intermittently breaking out in sorrowful refrains of song. The tribe could only watch as their most sacred ritual site slowly turned into a mass of burnt wood and soot. The carved wooden statues, the various meeting rooms, the moon pool. It was all charred. This wasn't just an attack on the lives of the people, it was an attack on their tradition, and attack on their connection to their deity, their ancestors, their very souls.

Most of the children had been pulled out by the villagers, frail bodies coughing and choking on smoke. The villagers had acted rapidly, wheeling out nebulizers to those who could barely breathe, and the rest were quickly put under the care of Dr. Mera, one of the few members of the D'je tribe that could administer medical care without facing scrutiny of the general public. Y watched in horror as a firefighter rushed in to pull out the last two boys. Their wings were bound under their clothes, but their lorids hung loose. The firefighters immediately moved to remove the excess fabric, but they were stopped by Naver, a nurse and part-time first responder. She was the only member of the tribe allowed past the yellow tape, a small mercy.

Instead of removing fabric, Naver simply poured cold water over their faces and directed the first responders to wheel the boys into the small hospital that lay on the other side of the big field separating the gathering hall from the houses and other buildings on the reservation. Y could see the confusion in the faces of the first responders, but they didn't argue with the orders of Naver. Under no circumstances were the children to be taken to local hospitals, this she had made clear. Sufficient medical care could be provided on the reservation, and so it would be. The secret of the D'je people would not be uncovered today. Even if they had to forcefully remove their young from the grasp of the local authorities, they would not allow them to be examined. The dead body of Aunt Cara would not be subjected to an autopsy, she'd been wheeled away like the rest before Y's eyes. Once pronounced dead she had been taken away and wheeled to what would be the temporary embalming chamber in an unused wing of the medical center. The thought made Y wince. Rituals were done in the gathering hall, and though the resident holy woman, Avera, would do her best to follow tradition, there was still the chance Cara's soul would wander until the ceremony could be properly completed in the gathering hall.

Chief Vera began to slowly chorale the mass, instructing various members to grab the necessary items. A drum circle was formed in the open field that lay a good seventy feet from the tragedy. The people were led in song, weeping and wailing to the beat of the drums. Y danced and cried with her people Very few watched the fire slowly die away, none missed the sound of the sirens as they faded away. Those able to dance did so, those able to sing raised their voices in song. The people mourned, for the people were attacked, but through the people they would return. This was the way, this was the survival method by which their ancestors had survived, and so this was the way they would survive.

As the last embers died away, Y softly combed away the stray hairs that fell from her youngest sister's face. Maya was seven, just a few years older than the children who were now fighting for their lives in the local hospital. All of the kindergartners had made it out alive. Select few were still hooked up to nebulizers, but most would return to daily activities within the week. By some miracle none had been badly burned. The police had theorized that in the first few moments of the fire, Aunt Cara had gathered the children and pushed them against the south doors before passing out from the smoke. People had opened the doors from there, pulling out children before the smoke became too much. Aunt Cara had passed out too soon, Sierra herself had tried to reach her before she'd been pulled back. Cara never breathed another clean breath before dying. Mother and child were lost, and so mother and child would be mourned.

This was done through hair cutting. As Aunt Cara was Y's maternal aunt, it was custom that hair be cut following her passing. Four inches were cut for the forty decades Cara had lived, two inches were cut for the baby, one to symbolize the life they would live in the great beyond, and the other for the life that would have been. Gathering six inches of Maya's hair, Y began to softly sing, a tune taught by Aunt Cara herself. Maya whimpered as her hair was cut. She had gorgeous brown hair, to the pride of Y's family. Most of it was cut this evening. Y gently held Maya and kissed away her tears. She remembered the hair cutting ceremony that had taken place when her father had died. She'd been only a few months older than Maya. Fresh tears fell down her face as she recalled that ceremony. It was Aunt Cara who'd cut her hair; no one in her immediate family could soothe Y into staying still for the scissors.

Five six-inch bundles of hair would be buried with Aunt Cara. One from Y's mother, two from Sierra and Maya, and the last two from Y and her younger brother Kairo. A few words would be shared, their favorite memory. Y already knew which memory she would tell, which song she would lead her family in singing. Cara would live on in this way until she could be properly let go. Baby and mother would be remembered and called upon until the gathering hall was rebuilt. There was nothing more tragic than being forced to walk the earth without your memory being recalled.

As the sun began to dot the horizon, Y finally picked up her phone. There were ten notifications. Eight missed calls from 'Larissa Weems', one voicemail from 'Larissa Weems', one text from 'Larissa Weems'. Hands shaking with emotion, Y opened up the text message. It simply read "Call me when you get the chance, I will be waiting".

A stronger woman would have waited until true daybreak to return her calls. This would have provided Y with a clearer mind, a mind rested and prepared to mediate her own weaknesses, but Y had lost too much this night to truly regret losing more. Smiling through the tears that threated to spill down her face, Y hit the call button and waited for Larissa to pick up.

<^*-----------------*^>

The students of Nevermore gathered inside the main courtyard. An emergency drive had been arranged by Principal Weems and several other prominent staff members following the first news break of the tragedy at the D'je reservation. Students had been awakened forty minutes before standard time and select staff were arranged to guide the students in preparation for both the drive and the gathering that would take place after lunch. A brief memorial ceremony was enacted, a moment of silence offered by all thirty staff members and 300 students of the Nevermore academy. It was touching, and although it wasn't half as passionate as the D'je memorial enacted the previous night, it touched Y's heart.

Being the only staff member of the D'je tribe, Y was expected to speak, an honor made burdensome by both her sorrow and exhaustion. She was nervous, and unprepared. It was a struggle even reaching the podium, so clogged was the ceremony. Standing upon the podium, Y gulped as panic and intense claustrophobia threatened to send her back down to the ground. Everything she had planned to say left her thoughts, and Y began to search the crowd for any hint, any student that could meet her gaze and offer support. Hot embarrassment shot through Y's core as she cleared her throat anxiously.

A hand gently came to rest atop of hers, and Y turned to meet the gaze of Principal Weems. Kind, exhausted eyes bored into her own, encouraging her, providing a firm cornerstone to lean upon, a brief sense of gratitude fluttered through Y, momentarily overpowering her anxiety.

"Students of Nevermore Academy," Y shakily began. "As the representing member of the D'je tribe, I am both honored and nervous to accept this generous display of support,"

Students began to bristle and talk amongst themselves. Where was this teacher going with this? Most were bored. They couldn't be blamed, they had no connection to the tragedy at the reservation. Most students didn't have a class with this woman on the podium, and those that did attempted to pay attention for the base courtesy of someone in power. Y wasn't bothered by this narrative. She'd been asked to speak, and so she would.

"My time here has been brief, but filled with the must kind, accepting relationships I've had the honor of garnering. As one of the kindest, most nurturing staff members once told me..." Y stated, eyes briefly flickering around the crowd, "...Nevermore is a people, a community built not on the foundation of simple camaraderie, but rather a foundation built of the understanding that we are not alone. We are not alone in our differences, in our quirks, our many eccentricities, and our values. I have been blessed to call Nevermore my home away from home, and I pledge to all students that as long as I have the honor of teaching here, you will not be alone, for during my tribe's darkest moments, you have shown us support and kindness that will never be forgotten. Thank you," Y concluded.

Heart pumping with adrenaline, Y shakily watched the mixed reactions of the students. Some cheered, some were teary-eyed, some seemed bored. It was all to be expected Y mused, it was a cheesy speech, and most of it was bullshit. But it was the kind of bullshit that impressed those who had something to gain from the tragedy.

"That was fantastic, I knew you'd pull through," Larissa winked. "Your prep period is next, yes?"

"Yes," Y nodded.

"See you then," Larissa preened.

Y smiled, watching Larissa gently gather the students for dismissal. She was too peppy, too bubbly. Wasn't this a memorial? Y cracked her knuckles, droning out the sound of her voice. She was pissed at herself for being such a pawn, such a victim, the kind of victim that the local news crew that stood in the back would eat up. "Support and kindness that would never be forgotten?" Y's stomach churned. It was a hate-crime. Someone in this community had taken it upon themselves to burn their gathering hall to the ground, and what were the police doing about it? Fuck all! The police report would be pushed to the back, forgotten about until it was too late to follow the clues and arrest the terrorist that had harmed her people. The police would find a more pressing matter and that would be it. The tragedy would be over and any further attempts of the tribe to find justice would be criticized as a cash grab.

Y barely contained the urge to storm off the stage, or worse, push Larissa off the podium. She'd done nothing but pledge the support of Nevermore to her tribe, a bunch of bullshit that would never happen, once again overshadowed when more pressing matters came up. This was a publicity circus, and Y would have no more of it. Floating from the crowd, Y broke out in a run as soon as she was out of sight, making a beeline to her classroom.

Writing a coarse email to another colleague requesting her class be supervised for the last period of her day, Y pulled out a substitute sheet and detailed the brief instructions for her students and supervising teacher. It was another craft day, and if the students had extra time afterwards they could work on drafting the presentation. Easy. Done.

Briefly CC-ing Larissa, Y scribbled an extra note on her desk, citing fatigue and all around grief as the reason for her absence. Y didn't care if this threw a wrench in Larissa's plans, her life was too fucked for any sort of compassion for those around her to cross her thoughts. Shutting her door, Y hastily walked past the throngs of students that poured through the entry hall. The tall figure of Principal Weems towered over the students, and Y watched as a confused look overshadowed her face. Y didn't give her time to reach out, or worse, call her name, quickly pushing past the double doors of the exit and running to her car.

<^*-----------------*^>

On the drive home all Y did was replay the last two days of her life. The flight, the unfortunate head wind that had driven her over to the clearing, the eye contact she had made with Larissa, the conversation, the phone call, the fire, the terrible memorial service. All of it blurred together, but no matter which way she replayed the events, her mind continued to snag on Larissa, well specifically two moments. The forest and the argument were played in parallel, and Y eventually narrowed down each memory to one moment. It was the look in the forest, and that look in Larissa's eyes when Y had first stood up that appeared too similar. Larissa's eyes had widened, mouth slightly agape, eyebrows raised. In both instances the look had been brief, but the more she compared them, the more it became clear that they were the same emotion. Recognition? No. Anger? Most certainly not. Annoyance? No. Excitement? Nope. Brief nonplus? Maybe? No it couldn't be. She'd been taken aback, worried, maybe even fearful-

Fear.

Oh my god. She'd been afraid.

Thoughts raced through Y's head. Larissa Weems had been afraid of Y, she'd seen something menacing, something other, something that sparked that primal desire in her mind to react, to run, to fight.

Larissa knew. That's why she'd been so insistent on siding with Y, trying to bargain with her, "I too am a freak". She'd said it! She fucking said it! Traditions didn't make someone a freak! It was someone's being, someone's appearance. Calling someone a freak based on their cultural practices would be unheard of to Larissa's vocabulary, but horns? A winged demon flying from the night sky? That was a freak!

"I've been so blind!" Y gasped, slowly beginning to cry.

Pulling off the road, Y hastily pulled out her phone, and called her Mom.

"Y, honey, aren't you at work?" her mother's soft voice asked.

"Mama," Y sobbed. "Larissa knows!"

A brief gasp sounded on the other end of the phone.

"Larissa, who's this Larissa? A student?"

"No Mama, she's Larissa Weems, she's the principal of Nevermore. My employer," Y choked, "She was the one, she, she-"

"Baby breathe," her mother begged.

"She saw me in the woods," Y finally got out.

Her mother hummed. "And you didn't think to say anything?"

"I thought she wouldn't recognize me, I just realized, she gave it away Mama,"

Silence filled the other end of the line.

"Are you at work?"

"No, I left,"

"Good. Get home. Now."

A/N: This chapter was HEAVY. First and foremost, my biggest concern was portraying the D'je tribe's tragedy with both respect and sensitivity, but also with as little plot holes as possible. Although this tribe is fictional, hate-crimes are not, and therefore even fictional they MUST be portrayed as wrong, and deeply hurtful to a community both on a small, intimate scale, and as a larger, wounding event. Secondly, Larissa isn't a dumbass. There was no way of brushing off the sighting or the later conflict as two separate occurrences, so I needed them to connect, which is why there was sooooo much description in between dialogues. And the angst? You guessed it, necessary. Yes this is a ship, yes it is slow burn, yes it is gonna be enemies to lovers! Ugh my absolutely favorite. I digress. Expect more angst and some steam next chapter- I've done all of the larger world-building necessary to make this story feel both believable and be truly rewarding when we do finally get the steam. Stay tuned! All future and past chapters will be posted on my masterlist which is linked to the pinned "Navigation" post on my dashboard.

[cami-stuffs]

Pushing Towards You

Chapter 18: Increasing The Family

A/N: Merry Christmas, everyone!

Warnings: Hormone Therapy; Pregnancy; Egg retrieval procedure.

It had already been a few days since the weekend that Calista and Larissa spent together. In the meantime, an extra key to the apartment and space in the two wardrobes were provided. Calista expected Larissa only to visit her sometimes because she knew working late was the principal's favorite sport. But, she was surprised to realize that Larissa now spent more nights with her than in her room at the Academy.

For Calista, having company at home was not something new. First, it was Gaia with whom she shared the house when they started a relationship, and then they married. Then came Artemis and her lively and expansive manner. Even after the divorce, she was not alone. Her daughter spent many days of the week with her, and Gaia also appeared frequently.

So those months in Jericho were the first in the twenty-two years she had spent alone. Calista handled this loneliness well, but she didn't like it. She was used to sharing space with someone else. Talk, watch television, eat meals, or just be silent, but always be accompanied. Divorced from Gaia and with Artemis spending more time in Nevermore, Calista spent her afternoons alone after work.

When she and Larissa started dating, Calista realized that she would still spend many afternoons alone before Larissa could take a break from work. Calista knew the principal well enough to see the dedication with which she worked. Having been married and started a family, Calista knew that this dynamic was challenging, and as much as she wanted to, she never asked Larissa to meet her outside of the scheduled day. Eventually, she got used to it.

However, after meeting with Dr. Maina, Larissa seemed to change her stance. She moved closer to Calista. Then, she received the key to the apartment. It became a routine for Larissa to arrive early in the evening with dinner or in time to cook dinner. Automatically, a dynamic was established. Larissa cooked, and Calista washed the dishes.

Most nights, Larissa needed to work, which was inevitable, but she would settle on the couch with her laptop, and Calista would lie down next to her to watch television or read a book. When work went on longer than expected, Calista would nap on the sofa, and Larissa would take her to bed before returning to work.

On the Friday nights that Larissa couldn't sleep with Calista in the apartment, she would bring Artemis with her on Saturday after breakfast. The girl was now ultimately used to Larissa and even suggested to her mother that she transform her room in the apartment into an office so the principal could work. But Calista was still resistant to removing Artemis's space, and Larissa agreed; she said she could perfectly work on the couch.

The weeks quickly passed, and winter break approached in Nevermore. Calista expected to have Artemis and Larissa at home simultaneously, as school activities would be interrupted. Although the two were getting along well, it would be the first time they would spend time together as a family. Gaia had decided to stay in Nevermore, as her family didn’t celebrate Christmas and New Year since her father's death. That way, just like Thanksgiving, the four of them would spend Christmas together.

A week before Christmas, Calista received a visit from Dr. Maina in the hospital pharmacy where they worked. He would like to schedule the collection of biological material for the end of that week, and to do so, it was necessary to induce Calista's ovulation. The doctor wanted to take advantage of the break to take the samples to his laboratory in his homeland, so he would like the collection to be carried out as close to the holiday as possible.

The procedure would be relatively simple. Six days after induction, the doctor would collect the eggs using an ultrasound. However, Calista would need to be anesthetized and rest for twelve days. Dr. Sharma was aware of the events and promptly permitted Calista to leave for as long as necessary.

Larissa and Artemis's procedure would be even more straightforward as a collection of buccal swabs and blood samples. For both, it was enough to compare the genetic material between them. For Calista, it was necessary to verify that her eggs were indeed chimeras and contained Larissa's DNA.

As time was short, Dr. Maina wanted to perform the hormonal injection that same day in Calista so that the eggs would be available by the end of the week. He warned her of the likely adverse effects that appeared in the days after the injection, such as mood changes, sensitivity, and fatigue. For Calista, it wasn't very different from what she felt during Artemis's pregnancy; anyway, she told Larissa that the next few days could be more difficult when she got home.

----------

No sooner said than done. Calista's mood changed drastically in the days following hormone therapy. It was the first whole week that Larissa slept in the apartment. She didn't want to stay at Nevermore lest it seemed like she was running away from the bad times, so Larissa took advantage of it being the last week before winter break and finished work at the office early so she could be home to cook dinner.

She didn't regret the decision but was torn between comical and exasperation now that Calista was complaining about things she usually wouldn't do. No complaints were directed at Larissa, but she avoided giving Calista a reason to change her mood. Larissa almost managed to keep the peace between them until the night before the collection; anxiety and hormones won.

As always, Larissa sat on the sofa after dinner, with her laptop on her lap to finish some matters before the break. Calista lay down beside her, placed a pillow on Larissa's outer thigh, and lay down. Nothing different that could be a cause for warning. Out of nowhere, Calista got angry and sat down, looking at Larissa.

"You didn't pay attention to anything I said, did you?" She glared at Larissa.

Fact: Larissa was responding to an email and had not heard what was said. She would regularly apologize and give all the attention to a Calista who would patiently repeat herself. But that night, Larissa didn't have time to speak when Calista stood up, stomping her feet towards the bedroom.

"Just because I'm angry, you ignore me? Wait and see when I'm pregnant; you'll get tired of me." Calista passed through the hallway and entered the room.

It was the first time she mentioned a possible pregnancy. And Larissa was taken by surprise. Still, she wanted to take advantage of the cue. "I don't get tired easily, darling. You will be the most beautiful and spoiled pregnant woman in the world!" She shouted so Calista could hear from the bedroom.

"That's the spirit." Was the answer she heard. Seconds later, Calista reappeared. "And another thing, I won't be a single mother. I want marriage! The whole package! Again!" She had one hand on her hip, and one finger pointed at Larissa.

Larissa was startled when she heard the word marriage. Her eyes moved from the laptop screen to the face of an angry Calista; she nodded and said, "I took note of that, my love. The whole package."

Calista huffed a "very good" before returning to the bedroom, leaving a helpless Larissa sitting in the living room.

Larissa now had a furious partner, an unmade marriage proposal, the possibility of a child on her hands, and no idea what led to the whole argument. She decided to end the night early and went to bed. She knew Calista hadn't slept that quickly, but she was silent and sneakily got under the covers. Without saying anything, Calista adjusted her body so that Larissa could spoon her. With a giggle, Larissa wrapped her arms around Calista and kissed her shoulder. Before falling asleep, she made a mental note to look for wedding rings.

----------

Calista woke up with regret the next day. The guilt was not for what she said but for how she said it. She had been considering having children with Larissa since the weekend the two spent with Artemis in Nevermore. And marriage was the natural order of things as their relationship progressed and became more solid.

But Calista's intention was not to scream that in the middle of the night, driven by the flood of hormones washing over her body. She intended to talk to Larissa, perhaps between Christmas and New Year or, who knows, after the test results were released. However, it was already too late. She had already opened her heart in an explosive and unplanned way.

She was awake, making breakfast, when Larissa carefully exited the shower and went to the kitchen, sitting on the counter stool. Calista had heard all the movement and wasn't scared when a "good morning" broke the silence. She turned around and was met with Larissa's light but restrained smile. A whisper of good morning escaped her.

"Are you feeling better?" Larissa took a risk.

Calista sighed, walked around the counter, placed herself between Larissa's legs, and wrapped her arms around the other’s neck.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you last night. Out of nowhere, anger rose, and I exploded at you." Calista explained herself, looking Larissa in the eyes.

"It's okay, sweetheart." Larissa smoothed Calista's hair, afraid that everything said had been lip service. "Let's just forget about it and move on. Soon, the effect of the hormone will wear off."

"No. I don't want you to forget what I said. I want you to forget how I said it. It wasn't how I planned to tell you I'm considering marriage and possibly having a baby." Calista was smiling widely now, her initial embarrassment having passed.

Larissa hugged Calista's waist and brought her close to her body, kissing her all over her face while murmuring, "Thank you." Leaning her forehead against Calista's, Larissa whispered, "You can't imagine how happy I am, Lis. I love you so much."

Calista cupped Larissa's face with both hands and kissed her. "I love you too, Riss." She whispered back with a smile. "Besides, you were pretty brave this week, staying with me. I would have stayed at Nevermore if I were you." Calista returned to the kitchen to serve breakfast.

"Wow, I didn't know that was an option!" Larissa was in disbelief. "I figured you'd consider me a runaway for staying away when you needed it most." She confessed.

Calista laughed. “You did well. The way I was last night, I would have called and yelled at you anyway."

"The yelling was worth it. At least now I know you want to marry me." Larissa shrugged, laughing.

"Did you have any doubts about that?" Calista looked up from her plate.

"You were already married, right? I wasn't sure if you would like to get married again or just maintain a stable relationship." Larissa responded sincerely.

"My marriage with Gaia ended because there was simply no longer compatibility between us. I don't advocate against marriage because my experience was good for many years." Calista explained. "But yes, the mindset of many divorced women with a teenage daughter is that they don't want to get married again. Marriage is a challenge, in my opinion. Just like motherhood. So I want the whole package." Calista smiled, remembering the phrase from the previous night's argument.

"And so it shall be, my love." Larissa smiled, drinking her coffee.

Gaia and Artemis arrived a few minutes later and waited for Calista and Larissa to leave the building. As Calista would be anesthetized and Larissa would take care of her after the procedure, Gaia wanted to drive her and Artemis back to the Academy later that afternoon. About thirty minutes later, the four arrived at the hospital in Burlington.

----------

The egg retrieval procedure was successful, and Calista was soon asleep in the hospital room. Larissa, Artemis, and Gaia remained with her until she woke up. Dr. Maina would observe her until late afternoon and then discharge her to rest at home. With that in mind, Gaia and Artemis went for lunch, promising to bring something for Larissa to eat, as the latter didn't want to leave Calista's side.

Calista insisted that Larissa accompany the other two to the cafeteria, justifying that she was fine and that the nurses would aid her if needed. But nothing convinced Larissa, who dragged a chair to Calista's bedside and sat there, holding her hand and talking. Now and then, she would ask if Calista was okay, only to receive a smile and a nod.

When Dr. Maina entered the room, Larissa and Calista were still alone. He checked all of Calista's vital signs and prescribed medication in case she felt any gynecological pain or discomfort. She should rest for two days to avoid bleeding and gradually return to daily activities. Larissa paid attention to every word the doctor said, glancing at Calista as if to say she would ensure everything was done correctly.

According to the doctor, the results would only be ready after the holidays, and as soon as he had them, he would meet with the four women again. This way, none of them needed to be anxious to receive any news because nothing would come.

"Doc, Calista and I are thinking about having children." Larissa glanced at Calista. "I was wondering if you could give me the contact details of the couple where the shapeshifter woman used her abilities to get her partner pregnant."

"Congratulations to you both on your decision." The doctor said. "Unfortunately, doctor-patient confidentiality does not allow me to share personal data. However, I am committed to conveying the message to them, and if they are interested, they can contact you. What do you think, Ms. Weems? "

"Perfect, Doctor. I would appreciate it. Ah, before you leave." the doctor was about to leave when Larissa called him back. "The mood changes due to hormonal treatment; how long do they last?"

"Are you giving her trouble, Ms. Cos'Anto?" The doctor smiled.

"Let's just say these last few days haven't been easy." Calista smiled back, squeezing Larissa's hand.

"It shouldn't take long. In a few more days, the effect will wear off. Just a little more patience." The doctor said, nodding and leaving the two women alone.

"Do you think the female couple will get in touch?" Calista asked Larissa casually when she sat down next to her again.

"I have no idea. But I'll look for the information myself if they don't." Larissa took Calista's hand to her mouth and kissed her knuckles. "I learned how to be a shapeshifter independently; this is just another step further."

"I'll be by your side through this process, Riss," Calista assured Larissa.

"I know, darling." Larissa smiled and patted Calista's hand.

With Gaia and Artemis back from the cafeteria, Larissa allowed herself to leave Calista's side and let Artemis keep her company. The girl wanted to plan Christmas dinner and was excited to spend it as a family again, like Thanksgiving. She, Gaia, and Larissa would take care of the preparations for supper, while Calista would take care of lighter tasks following the doctor's orders not to exert herself.

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On Christmas morning, Calista's apartment was filled with the smell of food being cooked. The other three women were busy in the kitchen except for Calista. Sitting on the kitchen stool, Calista watched the movement and helped occasionally.

Larissa was wearing an apron she brought from Nevermore, as Calista's didn't fit her. She hummed and sipped her red wine as she busied herself with the turkey in the oven. Occasionally, she would cast tender glances at Calista. It had been a few years since Larissa had company for Christmas. Some years, she attended friends' parties; others, she traveled abroad.

In the days leading up to Christmas, while Larissa took care of Calista, they talked about how they wanted the holidays to be from now on. They had not yet told Gaia and Artemis about their plans to get married and have children, but Larissa said that if everyone agreed, she would like them to spend successive Christmases together.

Calista knew this need came from Larissa not getting along with her family, and her Christmases were always miserable. Now that she was about to start her own family with the woman he loved, she wanted to celebrate it yearly.

Artemis was delighted. She didn't know what spending Christmas away from her mothers was like. Even though they were divorced, Gaia and Calista were always together on these commemorative dates. And now, the girl had Larissa to complete the combo. The genetic test results would still take some time to be ready, but the young shapeshifter already considered Larissa part of the family, even if she didn't date her mother.

Calista watched the interaction between Larissa and Artemis and found it difficult to believe that she had not made the association between them for many years, even though they were physically highly similar. Artemis's personality was a mix of Calista's and Gaia's, but as she got closer to Larissa, the girl seemed to acquire some of the principal's traits.

Gaia, in turn, was, as she always was, at ease. She drank beer while cooking, teased Artemis, joked about Calista getting rid of cooking, and reminded Larissa that they were now family in addition to being boss and employee. Her relationship with Ms. Mitchell was not serious, but Calista noticed that from time to time, Gaia answered messages on her cell phone.

The Christmas decorations had been left to Artemis while Larissa and Gaia went shopping the day before. The girl set up the Christmas tree-hung garlands and lights while making Calista listen to an annoying Christmas playlist that made her dance around the room while decorating the apartment. Artemis always liked Christmas, a legacy very well inherited from Calista. Together, the two made Gaia start to like it too, and now their goal was to awaken the feeling in Larissa.

The four of them spent an enjoyable afternoon together. There was no lunch; they snacked throughout the day while cooking and drinking. As Calista couldn't make much effort, she set the dinner table, placing herself and Larissa beside Gaia and Artemis beside each other and facing the other two.

During dinner, Larissa and Calista revealed their intention to get married and have children. Artemis squealed with joy and got up to hug her mother. Without thinking, she grabbed Larissa and gave her a tight hug. The principal was surprised; despite showing affection for each other, they were always restrained in their demonstrations. When Artemis hugged her, Larissa took a few seconds to understand what was happening until she smiled and kissed the girl's head, thanking her for the well wishes.

Gaia, in turn, congratulated Calista and exchanged a smile with Larissa, raising the glass and nodding. Calista noticed the looks and felt an air of conspiracy between her ex-wife and future wife. There was no envy or jealousy between them. Gaia had long ago accepted that her relationship with Calista was friendship and that the love they once had for each other was personalized in Artemis. Larissa understood that Gaia would always be there because she was the girl's mother, and Calista had spent enough time married to her for the bond never to be broken.

The night ended with the four sitting on the couch, stuffing themselves with food and watching a cliché Christmas movie. Larissa and Artemis wanted hot chocolate, and Calista happily prepared their favorite drink. Gaia remained with her beer, and Calista with the wine.

On her wrist, Larissa sported a gold bracelet set in crystals and engraved with her and Calista's initials. Larissa knew that Calista loved watches, and on their first Christmas together, Larissa gave her a white gold Rolex and diamonds that matched what the blonde thought was appropriate.

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The next day, Calista was alone at home packing up leftover food from the night before and getting ready to wash what seemed like endless dishes. Gaia, Larissa, and Artemis left for Nevermore because the girl wanted to hike in the forest. It had been a while since Larissa had ventured onto the Academy's grounds, so she decided to accompany Gaia and Artemis.

Before leaving, she left orders for Calista to rest, and when they returned, they would tidy up everything. But Calista wasn't in pain or tired; she was bored of the limitations imposed on her. Deciding that if she used her telekinesis to bring everything that needed to be put away and cleaned close by, she would keep her promise not to move around too much, she set to work.

It was almost lunchtime, and the other three should have been close to getting home when the cell phone rang. It was Larissa. Calista answered, happy to hear her beloved's voice, but was greeted with a deep and urgent voice. An accident had happened. Artemis was admitted unconscious to the nearest hospital, and Larissa was on her way to the apartment to pick up Calista. At the same time, Gaia remained at the hospital, keeping the girl company.

Chapter 17 | Chapter 19