Happy Brienne Week y'all !!! Here is my participation to the festivities.
Having scarcely drawn the chivalrous lady, I took liberties in my design. Some elements are straight out of my own imaginary, some are derived from the series, and some are sourced from fanart. @swordmaid 's has been a personal favourite and a great inspiration to root my rendition of the Lady Knight.
This illustration was made for the first day of Brienne Week [Day one - No Chance, No Choice - Duty, Chivalry, Honour | Protector, Heroism]
Shout out to @brienneweek for organising this grandiose event.
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A/N: I just finished this chapter this morning as last week was so busy and then the weekend was spent in London at the Sleaford Mods concert. When I tell you I am still in awe and shock at having been blessed to see Gwendoline's performance with my own two eyes from the front row... I am never ever getting over this, I fear. She was fucking incredible.
The house was bustling with action: Deanna was comforting a crying Ben, your mother was cursing over something from the other room, Dan was helping your father set up a tripod in the living room. The dog started barking the moment Larissa stepped across the threshold into the front hallway, making her jump back nervously.
You closed the door behind yourself and your mother, who had clearly been busy in the kitchen before you’d arrived, began to fuss over you, smoothing some flyaway hairs down even as you tried to duck away. “There you are! I was beginning to think we’d have to take the photo without you.” She took off her apron and tossed it onto a table by the door. “Larissa, dear, would you come with me a moment?”
Larissa glanced quizzically over her shoulder but you simply shrugged, your brow furrowing slightly. Turning again, she followed your mother down the hall into your parent’s bedroom, carefully side-stepping the dog with a wary glance.
Your mother closed the door behind Larissa, and the moment suddenly felt too familiar — like when Larissa had been in her first year at Nevermore and Morticia had invited her home for the summer, and Grandmama had shown Larissa how to conduct a proper séance while Morticia went out with her friends. She felt thirteen again.
“I hope you’ll forgive me for being too sentimental,” Joan started, pulling Larissa back into the present as she opened the top drawer of her dresser. Larissa made a soft noise of protest. “My daughter hasn’t brought anyone home in years — well, to be honest, she’s hardly been home at all in years. You’re good for her.”
Larissa listened in silence — she didn’t trust herself to speak, not when she could feel the ghost of your lips against her own, not when she wasn’t sure what the kiss meant for the two of you.
“Anyway,” Joan turned around, a necklace dangling from her index finger — a thin, gold chain with a small, teardrop-shaped sapphire pendant. Larissa’s heart stuttered. “I thought of this the moment I first saw you. It’s just about the same color as your eyes.”
Larissa looked away instinctively. “Thank you,” she said, her voice tight, carefully restrained.
“It was a gift from Henry when we first started dating. Between the two of us,” Joan lowered her voice conspiratorially, “He’s a sweet man but absolutely clueless. I haven’t worn it since, blue isn’t my color.” Larissa forced a smile, though she could hardly hear a word your mother was saying over the rush of her pulse in her ears. “I’d like you to have it.”
There they were, the words she’d known were coming the moment she laid eyes on the necklace. Larissa silently willed Joan to take them back, but it seemed to be her unlucky day, as the woman pressed on.
“It would suit you so well.” Joan unclipped the clasp and walked around Larissa, and she felt her throat tighten.
“I couldn’t possibly–”
“Please,” Joan insisted, placing the necklace around Larissa’s neck and doing the clasp from behind. In spite of herself, Larissa bent her knees and leaned back awkwardly, just so she wouldn’t have to feel Joan sway on her tip-toes behind her. “I see the way you two look at each other, it’s that same foolish look Henry always gives me. I haven’t seen her this happy in a long time. Take it.”
Larissa swallowed thickly — the necklace was light and dainty, and yet it felt like a truckload of cement resting upon her sternum. Joan stood in front of Larissa then, smiling in satisfaction as she placed her hands on Larissa’s shoulders and turned her gently towards the window. The light caught the sapphire, sparkling a deep, rich blue in the afternoon sun. “It suits you.”
“Thank you,” Larissa said, almost robotically, her heart and her mind racing as she tried to force a smile.
“Thank you. Welcome to the family. Now–” Joan turned Larissa again, this time towards the bedroom door. “Let’s go take that photo, before we lose the natural light.”
Larissa allowed herself to be led back into the hallway and to the living room, her legs moving on autopilot. Something inside her felt fractured, and she had to trust that her years of putting on a confident persona as an educator and principal of Nevermore would pay off and carry her through the next few hours.
The rest of your family was already gathered in the living room, Deanna was combing Alice’s tangled hair, and you stood from the sofa the moment Larissa entered the room. Your gaze was immediately drawn to the necklace resting against Larissa’s sternum, and her hand flew up subconsciously to finger the pendant. “You okay?” you mouthed, your brow furrowed. Larissa inclined her head once, stepping to the side and leaning against the wall with her hands clasped in front of her as you and the rest of your family gathered in front of the Christmas tree and your father adjusted the camera.
“Oh, no, sweetheart, come here,” Joan said, waving Larissa over — her eyebrows shot up in surprise.
“That’s alright,” she said quickly, the polite smile on her face masking the stab of anxiety that came with being in a family photo she didn’t think she had any right to be in.
She was helpless against your mother, though, who turned to you and insisted you pull Larissa into the frame. “I’m sorry,” you whispered as you took Larissa’s hand.
Larissa smoothed a hand over her hair, picked at an invisible piece of lint on the front of her dress, straightened the necklace — when she glanced down and caught your gaze, you were suppressing a smile.
“You look great,” you murmured, your voice slightly husky, and Larissa willed her legs not to buckle. Your arm wound around her waist, pulling her tightly into your side, your fingers splaying across her hip as your dad clicked the shutter and quickly hurried into position beside your mom. When you released her from your grip after the photos were taken, Larissa wasn’t even sure if she had smiled for them.
She felt torn. She knew she should be happy, over the moon. You’d obviously reciprocated the kiss, enthusiastically so — the moan you’d let out when she’d tugged your hair seemed to ring in her ears even now, hours later. And you were smiling at her, even flirting with her — that was almost more than she’d ever dared hope for.
And yet, Larissa couldn’t help the guilt that kept creeping in throughout the evening, and it seemed that everything that happened only intensified the feeling. The weight of the necklace on her chest. Your mother asking her to set the table for dinner. The way your sister trusted her with questions about school choices for Alice and Ben. When Alice called her “Auntie Rissy”, with the sharp lisp on the s’s, and tugged at her sleeve to show her, very proudly, how one of her bottom teeth was loose now, too.
Or when you’d all settled in the living room after dinner and Ben waddled over to her, of all people, and insisted on sitting on her lap.
Larissa wound her arms around your nephew as he rested against her, his eyelids growing heavy, and gently stroked his soft curls. She glanced down at him to see his chubby cheek smushed against her chest, and she couldn’t help but press a feather-light kiss to the crown of his head, her heart fit to bursting.
Watching you laugh with your sister, she realized she would miss this. Your family. You. In spite of being thrown in the deep end at every turn, she’d never felt so accepted or cared for outside of Nevermore before. Never just been part of a family without expectation or pretense. She truly felt like part of your family, and it was clear that they felt the same.
Except she wasn’t, not really, and that was where the guilt and anxiety found their point of attack. She wasn’t your real girlfriend, this wasn’t some fairytale or cheesy Hallmark Christmas rom-com, this was her real life. And her real life was never this easy. The “relationship” was based on a lie for your family’s sake, and she was, first and foremost, your friend — you’d drive her back to Nevermore after the holidays and things would go back to the way they were and then, in a few months’ time, you’d break the “news” to your family that it hadn’t worked out, that the two of you had broken up. Just like you’d planned from the beginning, Larissa reminded herself. She imagined your sister comforting you, and Alice asking where Auntie Rissy was when you visited for Easter, and your mother regretting giving Larissa that necklace, and how awkward it would be for your family to have to see her in that Christmas photo for years to come.
Larissa knew she was only hurting her own feelings at this point, but she couldn’t bear the alternative — the sting of inevitable disappointment if she allowed herself to hope that the kiss actually meant something to you.
“Oh, look at the time! We’d better get you two to bed, otherwise Santa will have to skip this house.” Deanna’s voice was loud, and it broke Larissa from the strange, somber trance she found herself in.
Alice immediately sprung up from the sofa and ran towards the hall in a near-panic, and all of the adults in the room laughed. Ben stirred at the sudden noise, and Larissa was reminded that she was cradling him against her chest, and that she ought to let go and let Deanna carry him to bed. She carefully handed him to your sister, smiling weakly.
~~~
There was a reluctance in the way that Larissa handed Ben over to Deanna that gnawed at your heart. She had been distant all evening — present, of course, laughing at jokes, talking with your family as if she’d known them for years, but there were moments when she wasn’t being spoken with where she would be staring off into space with a faraway look in her eyes, where you nudged her or asked her a question and she seemed almost startled.
Not that you could blame her, exactly, when your thoughts were focused on one thing and one thing only — the kiss. The feeling of Larissa’s tongue brushing against yours, of her hands tangling in your hair, tugging gently. The way she’d moaned, playing over and over again in your mind like a broken record, making it hard to concentrate on anything else at all.
Larissa had kissed you, and now she could hardly look at you — and you had no idea what to do with that.
Now that her lap was free, you dared to scoot a bit closer to her on the sofa, placing a tentative hand on her thigh. You could feel the muscles tense beneath your fingers and you nearly pulled away, but then they relaxed again. Glancing up, you could see the lights from the tree reflected in Larissa’s eyes, casting shadows across her hair, and you found your gaze drawn to plush, red lips, remembering how they’d felt pressed to yours. You licked yours subconsciously — and then you remembered your family’s presence and quickly looked away, refocusing on the story your sister’s husband was telling.
Larissa’s hand came to rest on your own, her pinky slotting perfectly next to yours, twitching — then she gave your hand a subtle squeeze. You looked up to see the ghost of a smile on her face, and you smiled back and rested your head against her shoulder, the warmth radiating off of her making you feel cozy and a bit sleepy as snow fell outside. It felt right, to be leaning against her like this, as if everything in your life until this point had been leading you to this exact moment. As if you’d never wanted to be anywhere else, with anyone else.
It was starting to get late, and your sister asked for help setting the kids’ presents under the tree. You and Larissa headed to the kitchen to get some milk and cookies for Santa — and carrots for the reindeer, just as Larissa had suggested.
“Did my mother give that to you?” you asked, nodding to the sapphire pendant resting against Larissa’s chest. She turned a little pink, her hand flying to the pendant to straighten it subconsciously as she nodded. “It suits you… it’s the same color as your eyes.”
“That’s what your mother said as well,” Larissa replied, her voice tight as she poured some milk into a glass. You watched her for a moment, your brows drawn together in confusion.
“What’s wrong?”
Larissa frowned, opening her mouth as though she was about to argue — then she closed it again, putting the carton of milk back in the fridge.
“I feel guilty,” she said, so quietly that you almost didn’t catch it. Her back was turned to you, her shoulders a hard, tense line.
Her confession made your heart sink. “Guilty? Why?”
“She should have given this to you. Or your sister.”
“No,” you said quickly, reaching out for Larissa’s shoulder — tugging gently, trying to urge her to face you. “Of course she gave it to you. You deserve it. You’re basically family at this point.”
Larissa’s eyes darted between your own, searching. “Am I?”
“Of course you are.”
“What about our agreement?” she pushed.
You paused. She had a point. You hadn’t talked about the kiss yet — about what it could mean, if it even meant anything at all.
“I mean…” You lowered your voice slightly, afraid someone would hear. “Even if we’re not actually together, you still deserve to have the necklace. My mom still likes you.”
Larissa frowned. “It’s not the same thing, and you know it.”
Footsteps sounded in the hall, too close for your own comfort, and Larissa shrugged her shoulder out of your grip as your sister came into the kitchen.
“Excuse me,” Larissa said under her breath, pushing quickly past your sister, who leaned back against the counter with her arms folded across her chest and her head cocked to the side.
“What?” You couldn’t keep the irritation out of your voice at being interrupted yet again, every cell in your body aching with the urge to run after Larissa.
Deanna raised an eyebrow. “What were you guys talking about?”
“Nothing. None of your business,” you muttered.
“Nothing? Or none of my business?”
You rolled your eyes. “Both. Goodnight, Dee.”
Brushing past your sister, you made a beeline for the hall — but her voice stopped you dead in your tracks.
“What did you mean when you said you’re not actually together?”
You swallowed thickly, refusing to turn around and meet your sister’s gaze as your heart hammered in your chest. “Just drop it, please,” you murmured weakly, already knowing that your sister was far too nosy not to press you for information.
“Who is Larissa, really?”
A heavy sort of silence settled over the kitchen. You turned, leaning against the counter for support. The knot forming in your stomach tightened. Who was Larissa to you, actually? How could you possibly explain to your sister that you’d spent the past few days pretending to have a girlfriend just for your parents’ sake? That every time you held her hand, even if it was just for show, it made your heart race? That somewhere in between asking Larissa to pretend to like you and kissing her in the car only a few hours prior, you’d fallen head over heels in love with the most incredible woman you’d ever known? You could lie again, of course you could, but you suddenly felt so tired.
“A friend,” you said finally.
“A ‘friend’? So you lied to us?”
A wave of anger rose within you and you opened your mouth to argue, but no words came out. You couldn’t really argue — you had lied to your family, after all.
“Please don’t tell mom and dad…” you whispered.
“So do you… like like her?” Deanna asked, and you finally met her gaze. You could feel your hands begin to tremble and balled them into fists.
“Yeah.”
“Then why don’t you ask her out for real?”
You huffed. “Why do you think? I don’t want to ruin our friendship… What if she says no?”
Deanna laughed, pinning you with an incredulous look that made you blush. “Why would she say no? I’ve never seen anyone look at you like she does before, it’s honestly really cute.”
Your throat suddenly felt impossibly dry, your stomach clenching. “H-how does she look at me?” you croaked out.
“Fuck, you’re useless,” Deanna rolled her eyes, pushing off the counter and turning to set the plates of cookies and carrots and the glass of milk on a tray. “Why don’t you go ask her yourself?”
Before you could answer she picked up the tray and carried it towards the living room, leaving you alone in the kitchen with only your racing thoughts and a shimmer of hope. There was a fluttering feeling taking root in your stomach and bubbling up through your ribcage, and your feet began to carry you down the hall and towards your bedroom — towards Larissa.
A/N: This may be my favorite chapter so far... hehe. Also. This is a "warning" that there may only be 2-3 more chapters left in this story, depending on how writing the rest goes and how I end up splitting up the remaining storyline. As much as I don't want it to be over ever 😭 Anyway, enjoy and have the loveliest Monday you could possibly have ❣️
“Fancy seeing you here! Merry Christmas Eve.”
Larissa had to repress the urge to roll her eyes at the cheeriness in your ex’s voice.
“Hi, Taylor,” you said stiffly, though you rose from your seat to hug her. She held on just a little too long for Larissa’s liking, her hand a little too low on your back, and Larissa felt a vein in her forehead pulse with the onset of a headache.
“Larissa, is that right?” Taylor asked as she let go of you, turning her head towards the shapeshifter. Larissa nodded curtly, her face set in what she hoped was a polite smile, and murmured a “hello.”
“I was gushing to my mom after the party about how cute you two are together — my mom says hi, by the way, she’s sorry she couldn’t make it.” Larissa couldn’t tell how sincere Taylor was being, and it rubbed her the wrong way — though it did please her in a sick, selfish sort of way that you didn’t seem nearly as happy to see your ex today as you had at the party.
“You’ll have to come over at some point, she would love to see you again,” she continued. Larissa looked down at the menu in front of her, running her finger along the laminated edge. Your ex had turned slightly, now speaking exclusively to you, and Larissa’s jaw clenched involuntarily. “When are you going back to Virginia?”
“Vermont,” Larissa interjected. Taylor glanced at her, feigning surprise, while you fidgeted nervously with your own menu.
“Vermont… I could’ve sworn you moved to Virginia. Well, anyway, don’t tell me you’re heading home right after Christmas?”
“We probably are, actually,” you said apologetically — the “we” caught Larissa slightly off-guard, and she fought a smile as she pretended to read through the appetizers section on the menu. “I might be able to pop by before we drive back, though.”
Like hell you would, Larissa thought. Especially not alone.
She was taken aback by her own thoughts — when had she gotten so possessive? You weren’t even hers, but something about your ex set her on edge. She didn’t deserve you, not with the way she’d treated you, and Larissa couldn’t bear to see you being so kind and forgiving. She wondered if you missed her, if you were still in love with her — if Taylor asked, would you give her a second chance?
“Honestly? I haven’t thought about her in years.” “I’d rather be with someone who cares about me and isn’t going to dump me on a whim, you know?”
How much of that had been true?
“I was hoping you’d be around longer, to be honest.” Taylor’s words made Larissa feel nauseous, and she toyed with the edge of her menu to keep her hands busy. “Seeing you at the Christmas party brought back so many memories — but I guess you won’t have time to catch up…?”
Larissa stiffened, bending the corner of the menu forcefully between her forefinger and thumb, leaving a permanent crease. When she looked up, she found your gaze flitting to the crease, and she quickly looked back down and read through the appetizer section for a third time, her cheeks pink and her jaw set. Get a grip, she chastised herself, fighting the unbearable urge to tear the menu apart entirely.
“Probably not.”
“Too bad…”
“Yeah, I’m not sure when we’ll be back, actually,” you said, your tone guarded. The subtle emphasis of the word ‘we’ll’ made Larissa’s heart stutter in her chest. “I’ve got the Weathervane, you know, that keeps me pretty busy, and Larissa has a school to run.”
“You really can’t get away from that café for a weekend?” Taylor said, ignoring your comment about Larissa entirely.
“Not really.”
Larissa knew that you were lying — your employees could handle the place for a day or two, you’d trained them well enough. Still, Taylor’s dismissive tone made Larissa bristle, and she excused herself to use the restroom, praying that Taylor would be gone by the time she got back.
She had no such luck — she stepped back out into the restaurant to see Taylor sitting across from you, in her seat, and her pulse skyrocketed. Her heels clicked aggressively against the checkered floor as she strode back over to the table, looming over your ex-girlfriend.
“Oh, sorry…” Taylor stood and excused herself quickly, telling you that her number hadn’t changed, and that you should call her. Her, “Bye, Larissa, was nice seeing you again,” was directed over her shoulder as almost an afterthought as she walked away, heading to her own booth near the front of the diner.
“I’m sorry about that,” you said quietly after a moment’s silence. “I didn’t think we’d run into her.”
“Why are you apologizing for her behavior?” Larissa cocked her head to the side, watching your brows furrow. You shrugged, slumping back in your seat and picking up your menu, though she could tell you weren’t really reading it.
“She’s not usually like that… or maybe she is — was — who knows…”
The waitress interrupted just then to take your order, though Larissa found her appetite had significantly diminished during the conversation with your ex. She ordered water and a salad and, for once, you didn’t tease her or encourage her to go for a more indulgent option — she wished you would, and her stomach twisted further.
“Would you like to see her before we leave?” Larissa asked when the waitress left, her voice flat and her face a mask of cool indifference as she leaned back in the booth.
You shrugged again, but your silence was unsettling. Larissa felt her palms begin to sweat.
“I don’t think so,” you murmured, your gaze finally meeting Larissa’s. The two of you stared at each other for a few moments, each trying to decipher the look in the other’s eyes — the waitress cleared her throat as she set two cups of ice water on the table and tossed some straws beside them. The paper wrapping on the outside of the straws was already soggy from the condensation dripping off the red, plastic cups.
“You shouldn’t have to say no on my account,” Larissa forced out, even as everything in her screamed the opposite. She forced a smile, her gaze flickering down to the straws as she picked one up, plucked it from its wrapping.
“I’m not,” you replied, picking at the paper from your own straw. “I’d, uh… honestly rather just spend the time with my family. And with you. If that’s okay.”
Larissa’s heart did a cartwheel in her chest. “I wouldn’t say no to that,” she said carefully, watching as a smile broke out over your own face, as if the clouds over your head had suddenly parted. She couldn’t help but smile back, noting how her smile brought a flush to your cheeks that made her knees feel weak, and made her feel very glad that she was already sitting down. Neither of you fully registered when the waitress brought your food to the table.
“I’m still sorry about dragging you into all of this but I can’t lie, this is the best Christmas I’ve had in years,” you admitted, a soft smile gracing your lips that made something in Larissa’s chest loosen.
She found herself distracted by the way you ran your fingers along absently over the condensation on the outside of your cup — the way they brushed along the plastic, the way the beads of water clung to your skin. She shook her head as if to dislodge a train of thought, her gaze going, instead, to the window.
“Don’t be sorry… I’m not,” she murmured, remembering all of the years she’d spent holed up in her quarters at Nevermore for the holidays, hardly even leaving to go to the staff lounge, passing the time with stacks of paperwork, a little too much red wine, and re-reading her favorite novels. The last few years she hadn’t even bothered with a tree or decorations.
“Thank you for being my fake girlfriend,” you said, and the words sounded a bit far away, your teasing tone gently tugging Larissa back into the present moment. She glanced at you and the smirk on your face made her heart constrict.
“Yes… well… thank you for inviting me,” she said faintly.
The rest of lunch felt so much like a date that Larissa almost found herself a bit disoriented — in fact, it was nicer than most of the dates Larissa had been on in her adult life. You even insisted on paying and Larissa, still stuck somewhere halfway between the present moment and Christmases past, was too distracted to protest. She walked half a step behind you as you headed for the door and, when you passed by the table where Taylor sat with some friends, Larissa’s hand came to rest on your lower back of its own accord. She could feel Taylor’s eyes on her, and she opened the door and guided you gently through it, suddenly caring very little for the appropriateness of her fingers brushing against your waist.
On the way home you gave Larissa a guided tour of your hometown — your past. You drove past the school you’d gone to, the playground where you’d had your first kiss at age 11 with some boy named Matthew, the animal shelter where you’d gotten your childhood dog, the movie theater that you frequented in high school, the river — currently frozen solid — that you and your sister used to play by in the summer.
Every detail fascinated Larissa — every story you told, every street corner or shop that you pointed out. Little fragments of your life, snippets of the person you used to be, the person she recognized sitting beside her, talking animatedly about the summer where you’d flown off your bike and broken your arm a week before school started, and how you’d gotten everyone to sign your cast. Larissa remembered her own hometown, dozens of fragmented memories. She wished she could show you where she came from and who she’d once been — her thoughts were going down a dangerous path and, for once, she couldn’t be bothered to stop them.
There was a moment when you pulled into the driveway and cut the engine where neither of you made a move to leave the car, savoring the brief silence without the hum of the engine or the crunch of gravel beneath the tires, without the light tinkling of the radio or the gentle buzz of traffic. Larissa took her gloves into her hands, smoothing her fingers over the light creases in the worn leather. Exhaling slowly, she could see her breath in the rapidly cooling car, though the absence of the car’s heater did nothing to cool the lingering warmth creeping through her veins like ivy.
Larissa looked over to see you watching her and the air shifted almost instantly, charged with something heavy, something undefinable. Something like a magnetic pull dragged her towards you over the center console — just a fraction — each of her senses sharp, tingling. You leaned in as well, just slightly, and then, before Larissa could second guess herself, she closed the distance between you, one hand tenderly cupping your cheek as her lips pressed against yours.
The entire world stilled around Larissa when your lips met, frozen in time — and then it began to melt away, everything outside of the softness of your lips and the warmth of your cheek and the scent of your perfume fading into the background.
Larissa’s tongue teased your lips, gently coaxing them open, sliding against your own velvety tongue. A shiver ran down her spine as you titled your head to get a better angle, your cold nose brushing against her skin — she felt the ghost of a smile on your lips and a strange, strangled noise sounded at the back of her throat. A tug at the collar of Larissa’s coat told her that you were groping blindly at it, and she slid her hand from your cheek back into your hair, nails brushing against your scalp — she felt you shiver, and it was her turn to smile into the kiss.
Her tongue flicked against yours, the start to a passionate tango, her breath coming in harder pants and her fingers tangling lightly into your hair, eliciting the most delicious, head-spinning moan from deep within your chest.
A frantic tapping at the driver’s side door made the two of you jump apart so fast that it disoriented you both. You looked at Larissa, dazed, her lipstick smeared around your mouth — the sight damn near undid her entirely.
The tapping continued, and Alice’s voice sounded, slightly muffled through the closed door as she called your name.
“You’ve got…” Larissa’s voice trembled (though she could hardly hear it over the sound of her own heart, pounding wildly in her throat) and she used her thumb to wipe away the lipstick on your chin.
“Th-thanks… you too…” You brushed the corner of your sleeve against the tip of Larissa’s nose — she shuddered.
Alice’s tapping continued and Larissa could see the reluctance with which you tore yourself away from her to open the car door for your niece — the cold air rushing in and settling immediately in Larissa’s bones.
“What is it, sweetheart?” you asked your niece urgently as she crawled into your lap.
“Missed you!” She giggled, throwing her arms around your neck. “Grandma said it’s picture time.”
Larissa’s brow furrowed and you chuckled. “The annual family Christmas photo,” you explained. Your voice was hoarse and your cheeks were flushed, and you had this strange look in your eyes that Larissa couldn’t quite decipher. She swallowed thickly, nodding and reaching for the car visor out of habit to flip it down and check her lipstick.
“Then we’d better get inside, hadn’t we?” she said with a cheeriness forced for your niece’s sake, not quite trusting her own voice.
Out of the corner of her eye, Larissa saw you nod as you watched her, though she refused to meet your gaze. “Alice, sweetheart, can you go inside and give us a minute?”
A sudden flutter of nerves rose in Larissa’s stomach and she snapped the car visor up as Alice skipped back up to the house. She sat perfectly still, waiting for you to say something, anything, but you didn’t. You both sat there, staring ahead of you at the closed garage door, the air in the car thick and heavy and strangely warm.
“So,” you started, right as Larissa said, “Should we–”
You chuckled and she let out a breathless laugh in return, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye. “Go ahead,” she said, her lips twitching as she suppressed a smile, even as her heart threatened to pound out of her chest.
“That was, um…” you started again, pausing as you struggled for words. You sucked your lower lip between your teeth, almost as if savoring the taste of her, and Larissa felt almost lightheaded at the gesture. “What was that for?”
Larissa felt her cheeks burn and she opened her mouth to respond, but the front door to the house flung open and your mother stood in the doorway calling out to you, and you let out a groan, dropping your head against the steering wheel with a dull thud.
“Coming, mom,” you called out through the open door, your voice laced with irritation — though your eyes were bright and happy when you glanced over at Larissa. “Later?” you whispered, and Larissa felt her heart skip a beat as she nodded. Later.
The local mall was the busiest it had ever been, everyone from the surrounding towns doing their last minute Christmas shopping. An area near the entrance had been converted into a winter wonderland, complete with fake snow, oversized candy canes, and a massive Christmas tree. An old man in a Santa Claus costume welcomed children from a long queue that wrapped around nearly a quarter of the mall, accompanied by a small group of ‘elves’ tasked to take photos of him with the children and to do crowd control.
Each child you passed as you walked to the end of the queue was louder and more hyper than the last and you grimaced and turned to Larissa with an apology on the tip of your tongue, only to find her smiling pleasantly at Alice as the little girl skipped beside her, divulging in great, trivial detail what she had already told you at breakfast about her Christmas wishlist.
Of course Larissa was good with children — you couldn’t fathom why she wouldn’t be, running a school, after all. Kids of all ages went to Nevermore, though you usually only saw the older students in Jericho. Apparently she was a natural even with the little ones, so much so that she hardly seemed to notice the din that the kids at the mall made, which was already starting to give you a headache.
“Could you guys watch the kids for us?” Deanna asked, trying to put Ben down. He clung to her neck, his little face already scrunching up and turning red. She sighed, glancing at you pleadingly, though before you could react, Larissa was already reaching out her arms.
“May I?”
“Yeah — please.”
Larissa took Ben into her arms — he resisted at first, grabbing onto Deanna’s hair and letting out a wail, but she managed to pry herself from his strong, toddler grasp. Larissa clutched him to her chest and began to coo at him.
“Thank you, we’ll try to be back before you guys reach Santa.” Deanna grasped her husband’s elbow, lowering her voice. “Last minute presents.”
The two of them disappeared in a throng of people, leaving you and Larissa with Alice and Ben. The former hardly noticed her parent’s absence, rocking on her heels and craning her neck to see Santa in a sort of feverish anticipation, while the latter was sniffling into Larissa’s neck, his little hands balled into fists against the front of her dress.
To say you were impressed was an understatement — Ben was generally a pretty quiet child but once he started crying, it was nearly impossible to get him to stop. And he could be loud. But Larissa held him tightly, one arm under his bottom and the other hand at the back of his head, gently stroking dark curls as she whispered to him and rocked him back and forth. Bright blue eyes locked onto yours overtop his head, and you felt your palms turn clammy in an instant. Painted lips curled into an easy smile, and you felt your knees turn to something closely resembling jell-o. There was something dizzying about Larissa holding your nephew as if he was her own, something that made your heart skip a beat.
You smiled back (at least, you hoped you did — you felt a bit faint all of a sudden) and were very grateful for the distraction when Alice tugged at your coat and asked you how long the queue would take.
“I don’t know, all these kids have to tell Santa what they want for Christmas, too.”
Her eyes widened in sudden horror. “Is he going to have time to give us all presents?” she asked anxiously. You crouched beside her, holding her by the shoulders in what you hoped was a comforting manner.
“Of course he is. He’s been bringing kids all over the world their presents, for hundreds of years.”
“That’s why it’s so important we leave out carrots for the reindeer,” Larissa supplied, and your head snapped up to see her peering down at you and Alice. “To give them the energy to fly quickly enough.”
Alice soaked in Larissa’s words, nodding gravely. She craned her neck again to look down the queue, and you stared up at Larissa, who winked at you. You swallowed thickly, rising slowly to your feet, your knees popping on your way up and making Larissa laugh.
“I thought you were younger than I am, your knees are already giving out?” she teased.
“You have no idea,” you replied weakly.
The queue took ages and even when you reached the front, Deanna and Dan were nowhere in sight. Alice held onto your hand tightly, her grip strong and her expression grave, as though she was gearing up for the most important moment of her life. Ben was looking very sleepy in Larissa’s arms, his head resting against her chest and his eyelids heavy as Larissa shifted him subtly in her arms.
“You can put him down if he’s getting too heavy, you know,” you murmured. “He’s got legs, he’s old enough to stand for a minute.”
Larissa looked mildly offended. “No, he’s alright,” she insisted with a shake of her head, pressing a soft kiss to his curls. “I don’t mind.”
You rolled your eyes and let out a playful huff. “Suit yourself, just don’t complain when your arms are sore tomorrow. You shouldn’t let my sister’s kids wrap you around their little fingers like that, they’re spoiled rotten enough as is.”
Larissa rolled her eyes right back, a witty retort no doubt forming on the tip of her tongue, though you’d never hear it — the elf standing at the front of the queue cleared his throat and approached Alice in that moment.
“Are you ready to meet Santa?”
She nodded shyly, a look of trepidation crossing her face. You knelt down beside her, her hand squeezing yours in a death grip.
“You’ll be okay,” you whispered encouragingly, trying to push her towards the old man sat waiting for her.
“Would you like your mommies to come with you?” the elf interjected.
“Oh, we’re not–” The words died on your tongue as Alice nodded absently, eyes still fixed nervously on Santa, and suddenly the elf was jerking his head at you and Larissa, as if to say ‘the queue is long, get on with it.’
You glanced almost helplessly at over your shoulder, your eyes wide, but Larissa seemed to be taking everything in stride, following you and Alice over to Santa.
Another elf helped your niece onto Santa’s lap and, after she stuttered out her wishlist, Larissa placed Ben on Santa’s other knee. The two of you stood aside, shoulder to shoulder, as yet another elf took a photo of your niece and nephew on Santa’s lap. You were starting to sweat beneath your coat, and Larissa’s body heat so close to you wasn’t helping the matter. Alice wriggled herself free from Santa’s lap the moment the photo was done and ran up to Larissa, tugging at her coat. You collected Ben and followed Larissa and Alice to a more quiet corner to regroup.
Would you like your mommies to come with you? And you hadn’t said anything, Alice hadn’t said anything. Even Larissa hadn’t said anything. The elf could have assumed that you were friends, or cousins, or anything really. But he assumed you were a couple. You supposed that was a good thing — if this stranger thought you two were a couple, surely your family was buying into the lie as well. A lie that was, slowly but surely, making you feel sick to your stomach.
“Are you alright?” You jumped as Larissa’s hand came to rest on your lower back — your grip on Ben had tightened and he was starting to get fussy, and you hadn’t even realized, as deep in thought as you were. You met Larissa’s gaze, and you wished you hadn’t. There was a deep crease between her brows, her eyes were wide and imploring, swimming with concern, her lips turned into a frown. Her thumb ran across your lower back, back and forth and back and forth, as heat prickled at the back of your neck. Your stomach turned, you suddenly felt very ill.
“It’s a bit hot in here,” you remarked faintly.
“It’s terribly stuffy,” Larissa agreed, though there was something in her gaze that you couldn’t quite place as she eyed you carefully, her eyes narrowing slightly. She cocked her head to one side. “I’ll take Ben and wait with Alice for Deanna, you go outside for a moment.”
You let her take your nephew in your arms, nodding as you turned robotically and headed for the nearest exit, her gaze burning a hole into the back of your head as you went. It was absolutely freezing outside, the wind was blowing snowflakes across the parking lot, but it did wonders for your nausea. Wiping your clammy palms on the sides of your coat, you sat down on a bench and waited for your family to come out and meet you.
Your family, and Larissa.
It was terribly selfish of you, you realized in that moment, to have Larissa keep up the charade for you like this. Instead of having a fun, relaxing Christmas, she was being subjected to all sorts of embarrassing family antics, Christmas parties with people she didn’t know, childcare for children who weren’t her responsibility. All because you had been too chicken to correct your mother when she thought you had gotten a girlfriend.
Larissa seemed to be enjoying herself alright, but you had your doubts. At the Christmas party after you’d kissed her. When you were forced to lie in bed together the following morning. Listening to your mom go on and on about your ex. Those moments in which Larissa seemed distant — the same moments in which you felt like you wanted her near.
And what made the guilt even worse? You were having the time of your life. You liked having Larissa around. You liked the way that she fit into your family, and into your life. You liked watching her dote on Alice, and on Ben, you liked watching her talk to your sister, or to your parents. You liked seeing her in your childhood home, at the kitchen table, drinking out of what had been your favorite mug a decade ago, as if she belonged there. You liked lying awake at night staring up at those old, faded glow-in-the-dark stars, listening to her breathe, knowing she was staring up at the same stars.
It made you sick to your stomach to think she didn’t like all of that quite as much as you did.
“There you are, you okay?” Your sister’s voice broke you out of your reverie — you hadn’t heard her approach, her children and Larissa in tow.
“Yeah, fine, it was just too stuffy.”
“Dan’s just loading the bags into the car, he’ll pull it around.”
As you stood, Larissa came around to your side and placed a firm, steadying hand on your elbow. You smiled gratefully, almost in spite of yourself.
“Dan wanted to take the kids ice skating,” Deanna started. “Do you guys want to come or should we drop you at home first?”
Your questioning gaze met Larissa’s, searching. She smiled, giving you a slight nod, though her brow furrowed slightly. “I don’t mind, are you sure you’re alright?”
“Yeah…” You felt yourself blush at Larissa’s concern. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
When Dan pulled the car around to the mall’s entrance, you and Larissa climbed into the back while Deanna secured the kids in their car seats. Larissa was cramped in the back seat, her long legs bent at an awkward angle, her knee pressed against your thigh. Your fingers twitched in your lap, you wanted so much to reach out and touch her, to get closer to her… Screw it. You rested your hand on her leg, hesitantly, then watched as she covered it with her own. She smiled at you — a small smile, warm and comforting, her face at ease. You smiled back, that dizzy feeling from earlier returning, and rested your head against her shoulder, solid and grounding — you weren’t quite sure what had gotten into you, but you hoped she would attribute your physical neediness to not feeling well.
The back seat of your sister’s SUV was like a bubble of your own making. You could hardly focus on the conversation she was having with her husband, on the chatter of your niece and, to a lesser extent, your nephew, on the music playing on the radio. Instead, you felt a sleepy, dreamy sort of weightlessness with your head against Larissa’s shoulder, with her warm palm cupping your hand, the soft wool of her coat beneath your fingertips. You could feel every breath she took, the sweet, flowery scent of her perfume lulling you into a daze — every so often, when the car hit a pothole or turned a corner, your head bounced, bringing you even closer to Larissa, your hair grazing her cheek. And she sat there, looking out the window, her thumb brushing rhythmic strokes across your knuckles. It nearly made you fall asleep, and you were more than reluctant to leave the car when you arrived at the ice skating rink.
Inside, it took you twice as long as usual to lace up your skates — you were too busy watching Larissa help Alice with hers, knelt in front of the little girl, her nimble fingers doing up the laces carefully, pulling them tight, knotting them securely, checking the fit around each of Alice’s feet. She took your niece’s hands, helped her up, watched her like a hawk as she took a few steps to make sure they weren’t too loose.
In that time, you’d only managed to lace up one of your skates halfway.
“I guessed your shoe size, I hope they fit okay,” Deanna said, offering Larissa a pair of ice skates — Larissa looked up at her from where she was still crouched down, her eyes wide.
“Oh no, I’ll just be watching.” She insisted firmly, a polite smile settling on her face. Alice scurried up to her as fast as she was able in her skates.
“You don’t wanna skate?” She looked like a wounded puppy, and Larissa glanced at you nervously. Alice followed her gaze, turning her puppy dog eyes on you. “Make Auntie Rissy skate with me.”
That nauseating, guilty feeling simmered low in your belly again when Alice called Larissa “Auntie Rissy”, but you ignored it this time, suppressing a smile at Larissa’s helpless expression — she was usually so confident and in control, and it was a bit comforting to see that even Larissa Weems wasn’t perfect all the time.
“If Auntie Larissa doesn’t want to skate, then we can’t make her,” you said gently. Alice frowned, turning to Larissa with a big pout that made you giggle. You smirked and added, “I don’t know how you can say no to her, though.”
“I can’t,” Larissa said with a resigned frown, settling on the bench and taking off her heeled boots. Alice squealed in delight, her entire demeanor changing in a heartbeat. You couldn’t help but laugh at your niece and, when you caught Larissa’s gaze again, she sighed softly — then her gaze fell to your skates and she let out a huffed laugh. “Don’t tell me you can’t tie your own skates either?”
A crimson flush spread across your cheeks — you’d been distracted, and, as it stood, had managed to tie a wonky knot into one of them and were still playing absently with the laces of the second. “I can tie my own skates just fine,” you grumbled. Larissa chuckled softly, a smile returning to her face — the twitch of her lips made you feel warm.
“Wake up, sleepyheads, breakfast is almost ready!”
Your mother’s voice ripped you unceremoniously from a deep sleep — though it was the subsequent knocking on the door that made you shoot into a sitting position.
“Can I come in? Are you decent?” your mother called out, and your heart began to race.
Scrambling to gather your blankets and pillow into your arms, you cursed under your breath. “Just a second!” You pushed yourself to your feet and stumbled over to the bed, where a groggy Larissa propped herself up on her elbow. “Scooch over,” you whispered, pushing your pillow next to hers and tossing the duvet over her own.
Larissa complied, arranging her hair over her shoulders, pulling the blankets over her chest to hide the way her nipples poked visibly at the fabric — your gaze didn’t have time to linger as you slid beneath the blankets beside her, trying to appear comfortable.
“Come in,” you called out to your mother, who immediately opened the door and poked her head in.
“Don’t tell me you sleep in just as late as my daughter,” Joan chastised playfully, and Larissa smiled sheepishly. You did wonder over the fact that Larissa had still been asleep, as you knew she was usually an early riser, but your mother didn’t give you the time to dwell on that fact. “You look so sweet together!”
“Mom, please…” You felt your cheeks redden, and a glance at Larissa showed you the heat rising in her own face.
“Don’t be embarrassed, you’re both such pretty girls.”
“Mom–”
“As I was saying, breakfast’ll be ready in ten. Everybody else is already up, even the little ones.”
You rolled your eyes, earning you a pointed look from your mother, before she left your room, shutting the door behind herself.
“Ugh, sorry about her. Like I said before, she can be overbearing as hell.” You gave Larissa an apologetic smile, relaxing now that your mother was no longer hovering. The bed was small, yes, but it was warm and cozy, especially with your combined body heat beneath the covers, and you didn’t even realize how close Larissa was, or that your hand automatically found her waist beneath the covers as you turned to face her.
“It’s alright, darling, she means well.” The way the word ‘darling’ dripped from Larissa’s lips was downright sinful, and it made your cheeks redden.
In the brief silence that followed, you allowed yourself to look — really look — at your friend-turned-fake-girlfriend. Larissa Weems was easily one of the most beautiful women you’d ever met, that much you’d known since the first time you laid eyes on her. But before this trip, you’d only ever seen her in what, to you, was full-glam: make-up done, lips painted, hair coiffed. You’d never seen her like this before: bare-faced, her eyelashes nearly translucent without a trace of her usual mascara; lips a pale pink, slightly cracked from the dry winter weather; hair loose and tangled, falling in gentle waves down her back. There was a smattering of pale freckles dusting her face, which were usually covered by her makeup — the same freckles dotted her shoulders, which were visible due to the way her silken pajama top was pulled back at an odd angle over her shoulder.
Your gaze traced her collarbone to the hollow of her throat, watching, very briefly, the way her chest rose and fell with each breath, before snapping back up to her eyes. Larissa seemed to be taking you in as well, her gaze pensive as her head rested in her hand. You didn’t even realize that your thumb was moving in a back and forth motion across her hip.
She was absolutely breathtaking. And she looked tired. Not the sleepy kind of tired, the way pretty much anyone looks right after waking. No, she looked exhausted tired — the kind of tired you get when you haven’t slept a wink all night. You felt your lips pull into a slight frown.
“Don’t take this the wrong way…” You worried how your words would be taken, wanting to say just the right thing, not wanting to offend Larissa. “You look like you didn’t get much sleep.”
Larissa was quick to wave away your concern with a scoff. “I had some trouble falling asleep, it’s really alright.”
“You sure? I could get you a different pillow if it’s bugging you, or–”
“Darling, don’t worry. It was just one evening. The pillow is perfectly fine.” There was something about the look in Larissa’s eyes as she tried to reassure you that made you press on, your grip on her hip tightening of its own accord.
“You’d tell me if there was something I could do to make you more comfortable, right?”
“Yes, I would tell you,” Larissa insisted, and now there was just a bit of amusement dancing in her eyes, her lips twisting into a smirk, and it distracted you entirely. Your eyes fell to her lips and your stomach twisted slightly, pleasantly. She was so lovely when she smiled, and her hip was so soft and warm, filling out your palm perfectly, and you could feel her breath against your cheek, and–
“Breakfast is ready!”
You yanked your hand off Larissa’s hip as if it had suddenly been burned, embarrassment coloring your features. “We should get dressed,” you mumbled, rolling out of bed and snatching a jumper off the chair by the door. Your heart was like a hummingbird beating against your ribcage, and you kept your back to Larissa as you pulled the jumper over your sleep shirt and looked around for some jeans. By the time you turned around again, Larissa was standing at the foot of the bed, fully clothed and with her hair and make-up done — the sight was so unexpected that it made you jump.
In the several moments it took for your brain to catch up with the change, you stared at Larissa as if struck dumb — she took in a sharp breath and began to fiddle with the gold cuff of her wristwatch.
“Can you… did you…?” Words failed you, and you wished you could disappear entirely.
“Shapeshift? Yes,” Larissa said dryly.
“Right. I didn’t realize you could… you know…” You swept your hand through the air, gesturing down the length of Larissa’s form, both of you blushing.
“I usually only do this when I’m in a rush.” She nodded towards the door. “We shouldn’t keep them waiting any longer.”
“Who? Oh, oh, right.” Mentally kicking yourself, you turned to open the door. “After you.”
~~~
“You’re up awfully late,” Deanna remarked the second the two of you entered the kitchen, and you rolled your eyes at the smug look on her face.
The rest of your family had evidently already started eating, the table decked out with plates full of eggs, bacon and sausage, toast stacked high, jars of marmalade and Nutella, waffles. Alice grinned her little toothless smile as she saw you, Nutella already smeared across her cheek, and patted the seat next to her.
“I saved you a seat,” she squealed, her s’s sounding like th. You rounded the table and sat beside her, giving her a hug from the side, as Larissa made her way to the seat across from you — Luna ran up to her legs and started jumping at her calves, barking, and Larissa tensed, twisting away from the little dog.
“Luna, come here,” your dad said, though the dog didn’t listen. “Luna, stop that.”
After some coaxing, Luna abandoned Larissa in favor of the bacon your dad was bribing her with, and Larissa managed to get to her seat unscathed, though looking rather out of sorts.
“You know,” your mother started, and you could tell from her tone that she was about to say something embarrassing and uncalled for. “This reminds me so much of the days back when you were seeing Taylor. It was impossible to get the two of you out of your room back then, too.”
Yep. You were right. Though Joan didn’t stop there.
“You were so serious about each other, I really thought you were going to get married after you graduated school.”
Larissa dropped the piece of toast she was in the process of grabbing. You met her gaze across the table and she gave you a queer sort of look which you couldn’t interpret — it was gone in a flash, leaving an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach.
“Mom, stop talking about Taylor, literally no one here wants to talk about her.” Deanna came to your rescue and you shot her a grateful look. She was one of the only people you’d been able to confide in when Taylor had broken up with you — most of your high school friends had thought you were making a big deal of it, and you hadn’t been at college long enough to make many close friends.
Your mother had the decency to offer you a soft apology, and your father swiftly changed topics by asking Dan if he was available to help with the truck again in the afternoon, but the “damage” had been done — Larissa focused intently on buttering her toast, not meeting your gaze across the table.
While everyone else resumed chatting as if nothing had happened, you watched her intently, the way long, elegant fingers wrapped around her knife and dragged it in slow, deliberate strokes across the toast; the way her lips, painted their usual deep red, pursed, mascara-coated lashes fluttering, jaw tensing slightly. She was agitated and withdrawn, a side to her you had never seen before but were becoming familiar with, whenever the atmosphere turned awkward, or too intimate. She was miles away from you — and you hated it.
Alice talked animatedly about meeting Santa at the mall later and about her Christmas wishlist, and you nodded absently as you stretched out your right leg beneath the table, as far as it would go, until your sock-clad toes made contact with Larissa’s shin — she jumped, her knuckles turning white so as to not drop the knife in her hand, and her gaze snapped up to meet yours.
You offered her an apologetic smile — a sort of olive branch — running your foot gently down the length of her shin, and saw her shoulders draw back, her cheeks flood with color. She smiled softly — she was yours again, kind and soft and amused.
Not yours yours… but something like that. Close enough, anyway. The Larissa you knew and loved.
Loved? Did you love Larissa? Of course you did. You loved all your friends, and Larissa had certainly become a good friend over the years. You knew that you cared for her tremendously, that you worried for her comfort and her well-being. You knew that you enjoyed her company, that she made you smile, that her opinions (and approval) mattered a great deal to you. That it pleased you to have her close, to look at her, to hold her hand. That didn’t mean you were in love with her. Did it?
~~~
After clearing the table from breakfast, you found Larissa in your bedroom, leant against the wall by the window and watching snow fall outside.
“Mind if I join you?” you asked softly — Larissa glanced briefly over her shoulder and nodded, before turning to look out the window again. You crossed the room and stood by the other side of the window. The snow looked picturesque, coming down from the sky in a flurry and blanketing your yard in layer after layer of white. “I’m glad that it’s snowing. Winter isn’t winter to me without snow.”
“It’s very beautiful,” Larissa murmured.
So are you.
It almost shocked you, how immediate the thought was, how natural it felt to think of Larissa — statuesque and striking — with her sparkling eyes and soft lips and pale hair, as beautiful. The most beautiful creature you’d ever seen. Her pupils tracking one snowflake on its journey past your window, then flicking up to watch the next, and the next, as her fingers again toyed subtly with the strap of her wristwatch. You averted your gaze and your warm breath fogged the frosted windowpane.
“Taylor and I were serious. Or at least, I was serious about her.” The words burned your throat, and you weren’t quite sure you should be telling Larissa this at all. After all, what did it matter? Still, you pressed on. “We started dating in school and I really thought she was it for me, you know? We were gonna go to different colleges but we promised each other we’d drive to see each other every weekend, and that we’d move in together and get married when we graduated. But it only took a semester before she started to come up with excuses why she couldn’t visit me, or why I couldn’t visit her, and then two days before exams started I got a text saying that she couldn’t handle having a girlfriend and going to college at the same time.”
You shrugged your shoulders, trying to appear nonchalant — Larissa gave you a sideways glance, her brow furrowed. “I’m sorry to hear that…”
“It’s fine — I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. Honestly? I haven’t thought about her in years. Water under the bridge, or however that saying goes. Like, yeah, it hurt at the time, but it just wasn’t meant to be, and that’s okay. I’d rather be with someone who cares about me and isn’t going to dump me on a whim, you know?”
“So would I.”
Something about the way she spoke, wistful yet tinged with bitterness, told you that Larissa was speaking from personal experience, that she was reliving her own heartbreak. It seemed crazy to you, that a woman like Larissa would have her heart broken — after all, who would be stupid enough to break up with someone as beautiful, as intelligent, as caring as her? You decided to tell her as much, and she snorted and rolled her eyes.
“You have a very high opinion of me, darling,” (there it was again, that word that made your cheeks warm), “I can assure you, even I have not been shielded from heartbreak.” Larissa smiled as she spoke, though she clasped her hands in front of herself and twisted her fingers this way and that. “Perhaps I’d have fared better, had I had a girlfriend like you.”
Your blush rose all the way to the tips of your ears, and you felt your next words catch in your throat. “What sort of girlfriend did you have, then?”
Larissa was silent for so long that your stomach began to turn, afraid you’d crossed a boundary — you kept your gaze trained on the window, not daring to look at her.
“The sort that didn’t care much about monogamy, or about my feelings,” she said finally, her voice deliberately measured.
“Damn.” Your voice cracked and you cleared your throat. “You… deserve someone that treats you like a queen, you know…”
It was Larissa’s turn to blush, and the two of you risked a glance at each other at the same time — you felt as shy as a teenage girl, and you couldn’t quite figure out why.
“Thank you.”
A beat.
“Deanna is taking Alice and Ben to see Santa this afternoon. Alice asked me to come.” You paused. “Would you like to come with us?”
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Larissa didn’t really know why she was so nervous. Social events weren’t exactly foreign to her, not by a long shot — though perhaps this was the first one in a long time where she was asked to be herself, not Principal Weems.
Or perhaps it was because every neighbor and family friend walking through the front door was commenting on how lovely it was to meet her, how beautiful she was, how well you two complimented one another, how happy they were for the two of you, how happy they were that you’d finally found someone, “and a looker at that” — it was almost too much for Larissa to bear.
She watched you, champagne flute in hand, as you took it all in stride, smiling graciously, rolling your eyes at embarrassing remarks, introducing her to these people you’d known your whole life. Like a moth to a flame she was drawn to your warmth, magnetized by the comfort you brought her with a single encouraging look, a steady arm around her waist.
It surprised her just how little she minded the physical contact that she usually avoided from others — from you, it felt grounding. As though your arm was a shield against the outside world, armor protecting her from judgement, keeping her safe. Something about your casual touches felt right, and it scared Larissa to think that they were all for show, an afterthought on your part, when to her, they meant more than she’d like to admit.
“Taylor!”
Larissa whipped her head around at your exclamation, too busy staring at you to notice a young woman about your age making her way through a throng of people directly towards you. Your arm left Larissa’s waist to pull the woman into a hug, and Larissa suddenly felt cold and abandoned, even with you at arm’s length.
“I didn’t know you were in town. It’s so good to see you!” You let go of the woman and turned, your arm snaking around Larissa’s waist once more — but the moment had already been soured. “Larissa, this is Taylor. Taylor, Larissa. My girlfriend.”
Your ex. Larissa grimaced, sizing her up as the woman held out her hand. A blonde as well, a few inches taller than you (though shorter than Larissa), with grey-blue eyes and a crooked smile. She looked as though she had hardly aged from the photo at your high school prom.
“Nice to meet you,” she said, not unkindly, her hand extended to shake Larissa’s.
“Likewise…” It felt anything but nice. “Will you excuse me, I’m going to get another drink. I’m parched.”
You nodded, giving Larissa’s hip a squeeze before letting go, and Larissa headed for the kitchen to discard her empty champagne flute in favor of a full one.
She stood in the doorway to the kitchen, watching you talk to your ex, unaware of the disdain written upon her own face until your sister came up behind her and offered her a plate of random hors d'oeuvres. She shook her head.
“Didn’t think I’d see her here again,” Deanna remarked, and Larissa felt her interest pique, quirking an eyebrow as she broke her gaze and looked down at the younger woman.
“Oh?”
“I’m assuming my sister didn’t tell you about her?”
“Only that they were together in high school and grew apart in college…”
Deanna snorted. “Yeah, if by grew apart you mean Taylor completely shattered her heart by breaking up with her during exam season.” She rolled her eyes. “I never thought I’d hear the end of that… never seen her so upset either, she almost moved back home.”
Larissa felt her heart lurch — she risked a glance back at you, and felt sick to her stomach. She watched your eyes light up while Taylor talked, watched your lips spread into a wide grin. Your laugh rang out through the living room and Larissa felt as though she was developing tunnel vision, the sound of your voice echoing in her ears, everything around her blurring away, leaving only you.
God, what was wrong with her? You weren’t hers, so why did she feel so jealous and possessive at the thought of you talking to your ex? Surely it was because she cared for you deeply as a friend, and the thought of you hurting hurt her as well — that was a part of friendship, wasn’t it?
As the party continued, Larissa found her way back to your side, and you’d thankfully moved on to talking to a friend of your mother’s. A small crowd amassed around the two of you when the topic turned to the story of you getting together, and Deanna watched Larissa’s hand find yours with a smirk.
“I’m dying to know what made you fall in love with my sister.”
There was a chorus of “yes”’s and “awe”’s, and Larissa’s gaze flitted nervously to yours, her fingers tightening around your own as she blurted out the first thing that came to her mind.
“Her hot chocolate.”
Your family and friends laughed, some agreed — you grinned at Larissa, your cheeks pink. You wrapped your arm around her waist.
“Didn’t realize I could impress you so easily,” you teased.
“What about you?” Taylor asked — a muscle in Larissa’s jaw twitched at the sound of her voice, high and grating.
“What made me fall for Larissa?” Larissa felt a nervous anticipation in the pit of her stomach as Taylor nodded. Your hand on her hip was warm and soft, and it was making it rather hard to concentrate. “Have you seen her?”
Some people laughed, a neighbor wolf-whistled — Larissa’s ears burned and your arm tightened around her waist.
“No seriously, though, she’s just as intelligent and witty as she is gorgeous. I don’t even think she knows this but she really inspired me after I reopened the Weathervane — she made me feel like I could do it, you know? She’s confident and encouraging, she’s great at running Nevermore — just ask literally anyone.”
Larissa could hardly believe her ears — she swallowed thickly, her eyes darting between your own, searching for any hint of deception, any sign you were praising her for the sake of the “audience”. She found none, only sincerity and warmth, and she nodded dumbly. Any reactions to your words faded into the background as she stared at you, feeling like she was seeing you clearly for the first time.
“Larissa?” you whispered. “You okay?”
Before she could find the words to answer you or to properly compose herself, she heard your sister’s husband, Dan, shout, “Hey! Mistletoe alerrrt!” and point above her head. She froze, looking up — indeed, the two of you were standing directly beneath a mistletoe.
You seemed to sense her disorientation, as you took a step back to give her space. “I don’t want to ruin your lipstick,” you said diplomatically, but the guests were not having it.
“Oh come on,” Taylor said. “Do you really think she cares about her lipstick? Kiss her!”
You hesitated, your gaze locking onto Larissa’s. She felt like a deer caught in headlights, her pulse thudding in her ears as she watched you take a step closer — your breath suddenly mingling with hers, your face closer than it had ever been.
Then your lips — warm and soft — made contact with the very corner of her mouth, and you leaned back again. Larissa held back a full-body shiver at the contact.
“Oh,” you breathed out, your gaze fixed on Larissa’s lips, and you lifted your thumb to rub away a smudge of lipstick below her lip. “Sorry.”
Taylor whistled and Deanna squealed out an “awww”, but Larissa felt stricken. The skin at the corner of her mouth was tingling, her breath coming in short, dizzying pants. She forced a smile.
“Pardon me, I’ll be right back…” She squeezed your hip, trying to appear normal as she extricated herself from your grip and headed to the bathroom.
The door clicked shut behind her and she flicked on the light, bathing the small room in a warm glow. She leaned against the sink, gripping the sides of the porcelain with trembling fingers as she met her own gaze in the mirror.
Larissa hardly recognized herself. A deep flush covered her face, her pupils were wide and dazed. She could feel her heart in her throat, its beat wild and unrestrained, and she let out a shaky breath.
The last time she’d felt this undone had been… God, it had been years, if Larissa was honest with herself. Back at Nevermore, during her own school days, before she’d asked Morticia to the Rave’N — the high before the fall, the moment of hope before the crushing blow.
It was then that Larissa realized, with a sinking feeling in her stomach, how deep her feelings for you ran.
She liked you.
Really liked you.
She liked the way you looked at her, the way you treated her, the way your presence made her feel safe. She liked that she could talk to you, and that you were kind and funny and charismatic, and how your hand felt in her own.
She liked the way your lips felt on her skin, the warmth of your breath tickling her lips.
She liked your friendship, valued your presence in her life, but what she really wanted was to kiss you, to hold you in her arms, to make you laugh and smile and to call you hers.
“Have you seen her?”
The words echoed in Larissa’s mind.
Intelligent. Witty. Gorgeous. Confident.
Larissa didn’t feel any of those things.
Did you mean it? She wondered — she hardly dared to hope.
There were only two things she knew to be true in that moment: one, that she liked you more than she’d liked anyone else in a long, long time. And two, that she felt more welcome here, with your family, than she’d ever had anywhere outside of Nevermore.
Larissa’s knuckles turned white as she braced herself against the sink. Then, a knock on the door, your voice floating through the crack, soft and melodic and tinged with concern.
“You okay in there?”
“Yes, of course.” A lie, Larissa’s voice hoarse. How could she possibly be okay, knowing how she felt about you, knowing you couldn’t possibly feel the same. She ran the tap for a few seconds, to keep up appearances. She schooled her face into a mask of indifference, plastered on an agreeable smile. Then she opened the door, and her heart skipped a beat at the worry in your eyes.
“Sorry about all that,” you murmured under your breath, so no one else would hear.
Larissa could only wave away your apology, unable to meet your gaze directly. “It’s what we agreed to, isn’t it?”
Larissa didn’t really know why she was so nervous. Social events weren’t exactly foreign to her, not by a long shot — though perhaps this was the first one in a long time where she was asked to be herself, not Principal Weems.
Or perhaps it was because every neighbor and family friend walking through the front door was commenting on how lovely it was to meet her, how beautiful she was, how well you two complimented one another, how happy they were for the two of you, how happy they were that you’d finally found someone, “and a looker at that” — it was almost too much for Larissa to bear.
She watched you, champagne flute in hand, as you took it all in stride, smiling graciously, rolling your eyes at embarrassing remarks, introducing her to these people you’d known your whole life. Like a moth to a flame she was drawn to your warmth, magnetized by the comfort you brought her with a single encouraging look, a steady arm around her waist.
It surprised her just how little she minded the physical contact that she usually avoided from others — from you, it felt grounding. As though your arm was a shield against the outside world, armor protecting her from judgement, keeping her safe. Something about your casual touches felt right, and it scared Larissa to think that they were all for show, an afterthought on your part, when to her, they meant more than she’d like to admit.
“Taylor!”
Larissa whipped her head around at your exclamation, too busy staring at you to notice a young woman about your age making her way through a throng of people directly towards you. Your arm left Larissa’s waist to pull the woman into a hug, and Larissa suddenly felt cold and abandoned, even with you at arm’s length.
“I didn’t know you were in town. It’s so good to see you!” You let go of the woman and turned, your arm snaking around Larissa’s waist once more — but the moment had already been soured. “Larissa, this is Taylor. Taylor, Larissa. My girlfriend.”
Your ex. Larissa grimaced, sizing her up as the woman held out her hand. A blonde as well, a few inches taller than you (though shorter than Larissa), with grey-blue eyes and a crooked smile. She looked as though she had hardly aged from the photo at your high school prom.
“Nice to meet you,” she said, not unkindly, her hand extended to shake Larissa’s.
“Likewise…” It felt anything but nice. “Will you excuse me, I’m going to get another drink. I’m parched.”
You nodded, giving Larissa’s hip a squeeze before letting go, and Larissa headed for the kitchen to discard her empty champagne flute in favor of a full one.
She stood in the doorway to the kitchen, watching you talk to your ex, unaware of the disdain written upon her own face until your sister came up behind her and offered her a plate of random hors d'oeuvres. She shook her head.
“Didn’t think I’d see her here again,” Deanna remarked, and Larissa felt her interest pique, quirking an eyebrow as she broke her gaze and looked down at the younger woman.
“Oh?”
“I’m assuming my sister didn’t tell you about her?”
“Only that they were together in high school and grew apart in college…”
Deanna snorted. “Yeah, if by grew apart you mean Taylor completely shattered her heart by breaking up with her during exam season.” She rolled her eyes. “I never thought I’d hear the end of that… never seen her so upset either, she almost moved back home.”
Larissa felt her heart lurch — she risked a glance back at you, and felt sick to her stomach. She watched your eyes light up while Taylor talked, watched your lips spread into a wide grin. Your laugh rang out through the living room and Larissa felt as though she was developing tunnel vision, the sound of your voice echoing in her ears, everything around her blurring away, leaving only you.
God, what was wrong with her? You weren’t hers, so why did she feel so jealous and possessive at the thought of you talking to your ex? Surely it was because she cared for you deeply as a friend, and the thought of you hurting hurt her as well — that was a part of friendship, wasn’t it?
As the party continued, Larissa found her way back to your side, and you’d thankfully moved on to talking to a friend of your mother’s. A small crowd amassed around the two of you when the topic turned to the story of you getting together, and Deanna watched Larissa’s hand find yours with a smirk.
“I’m dying to know what made you fall in love with my sister.”
There was a chorus of “yes”’s and “awe”’s, and Larissa’s gaze flitted nervously to yours, her fingers tightening around your own as she blurted out the first thing that came to her mind.
“Her hot chocolate.”
Your family and friends laughed, some agreed — you grinned at Larissa, your cheeks pink. You wrapped your arm around her waist.
“Didn’t realize I could impress you so easily,” you teased.
“What about you?” Taylor asked — a muscle in Larissa’s jaw twitched at the sound of her voice, high and grating.
“What made me fall for Larissa?” Larissa felt a nervous anticipation in the pit of her stomach as Taylor nodded. Your hand on her hip was warm and soft, and it was making it rather hard to concentrate. “Have you seen her?”
Some people laughed, a neighbor wolf-whistled — Larissa’s ears burned and your arm tightened around her waist.
“No seriously, though, she’s just as intelligent and witty as she is gorgeous. I don’t even think she knows this but she really inspired me after I reopened the Weathervane — she made me feel like I could do it, you know? She’s confident and encouraging, she’s great at running Nevermore — just ask literally anyone.”
Larissa could hardly believe her ears — she swallowed thickly, her eyes darting between your own, searching for any hint of deception, any sign you were praising her for the sake of the “audience”. She found none, only sincerity and warmth, and she nodded dumbly. Any reactions to your words faded into the background as she stared at you, feeling like she was seeing you clearly for the first time.
“Larissa?” you whispered. “You okay?”
Before she could find the words to answer you or to properly compose herself, she heard your sister’s husband, Dan, shout, “Hey! Mistletoe alerrrt!” and point above her head. She froze, looking up — indeed, the two of you were standing directly beneath a mistletoe.
You seemed to sense her disorientation, as you took a step back to give her space. “I don’t want to ruin your lipstick,” you said diplomatically, but the guests were not having it.
“Oh come on,” Taylor said. “Do you really think she cares about her lipstick? Kiss her!”
You hesitated, your gaze locking onto Larissa’s. She felt like a deer caught in headlights, her pulse thudding in her ears as she watched you take a step closer — your breath suddenly mingling with hers, your face closer than it had ever been.
Then your lips — warm and soft — made contact with the very corner of her mouth, and you leaned back again. Larissa held back a full-body shiver at the contact.
“Oh,” you breathed out, your gaze fixed on Larissa’s lips, and you lifted your thumb to rub away a smudge of lipstick below her lip. “Sorry.”
Taylor whistled and Deanna squealed out an “awww”, but Larissa felt stricken. The skin at the corner of her mouth was tingling, her breath coming in short, dizzying pants. She forced a smile.
“Pardon me, I’ll be right back…” She squeezed your hip, trying to appear normal as she extricated herself from your grip and headed to the bathroom.
The door clicked shut behind her and she flicked on the light, bathing the small room in a warm glow. She leaned against the sink, gripping the sides of the porcelain with trembling fingers as she met her own gaze in the mirror.
Larissa hardly recognized herself. A deep flush covered her face, her pupils were wide and dazed. She could feel her heart in her throat, its beat wild and unrestrained, and she let out a shaky breath.
The last time she’d felt this undone had been… God, it had been years, if Larissa was honest with herself. Back at Nevermore, during her own school days, before she’d asked Morticia to the Rave’N — the high before the fall, the moment of hope before the crushing blow.
It was then that Larissa realized, with a sinking feeling in her stomach, how deep her feelings for you ran.
She liked you.
Really liked you.
She liked the way you looked at her, the way you treated her, the way your presence made her feel safe. She liked that she could talk to you, and that you were kind and funny and charismatic, and how your hand felt in her own.
She liked the way your lips felt on her skin, the warmth of your breath tickling her lips.
She liked your friendship, valued your presence in her life, but what she really wanted was to kiss you, to hold you in her arms, to make you laugh and smile and to call you hers.
“Have you seen her?”
The words echoed in Larissa’s mind.
Intelligent. Witty. Gorgeous. Confident.
Larissa didn’t feel any of those things.
Did you mean it? She wondered — she hardly dared to hope.
There were only two things she knew to be true in that moment: one, that she liked you more than she’d liked anyone else in a long, long time. And two, that she felt more welcome here, with your family, than she’d ever had anywhere outside of Nevermore.
Larissa’s knuckles turned white as she braced herself against the sink. Then, a knock on the door, your voice floating through the crack, soft and melodic and tinged with concern.
“You okay in there?”
“Yes, of course.” A lie, Larissa’s voice hoarse. How could she possibly be okay, knowing how she felt about you, knowing you couldn’t possibly feel the same. She ran the tap for a few seconds, to keep up appearances. She schooled her face into a mask of indifference, plastered on an agreeable smile. Then she opened the door, and her heart skipped a beat at the worry in your eyes.
“Sorry about all that,” you murmured under your breath, so no one else would hear.
Larissa could only wave away your apology, unable to meet your gaze directly. “It’s what we agreed to, isn’t it?”
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The reason they didn’t include Pubert in the show is because he’s a SHAPESHIFTER like his MOTHER LARISSA WEEMS it would have outed them when he revealed his true form.
No but imagine! They can’t even deny it he’s legit her twin 😭😭 Just a blonde haired blue eyed baby coming out of Morticia while her “bestie” is in the delivery room for support. Everybody turns to look at Larissa.
