Chefi

"whoopsie, did I just say come twice?"

AUTHOR NOTES:

I haven't actually written for Larissa, for a long while. So bear with me 😔🫶.

I immediately had this thought after seeing the announcement for her coming back 🤫.

PAIRING: Spirit!Larissa Weems x Clairvoyant!Reader

Ever since you were a child, you’d been able to see what others could not. At first, they appeared as mists—wisps of fog that sometimes resembled people. Some were dark, heavy like ink in water. Others were pale, faint as candle smoke. But all of them were the same: transparent, hollow silhouettes of bodies that no longer belonged to this world.

You learned early to ignore them. To most, you looked like the strange kid who stared into corners and talked to empty chairs. To you, though, the world was always crowded with the unseen.

Now, years later, you stood at the gates of Nevermore Academy.

It still felt unreal. You’d always wanted to attend as a student, but your normie parents had crushed that dream, insisting nothing beyond the ordinary existed. So you’d grown up pretending to be “normal,” even as shadows whispered at the edges of your sight.

But fate had circled back in its own strange way.

Freshly graduated, you had been hired as Nevermore’s new physics teacher—a subject most students considered dull, until they realized how often the laws of the universe bent in their very hands. Principal Weems’ sudden vacancy had left the staff scrambling, and you’d been offered the position almost too quickly.

And so, here you were.

Jericho looked the same—bustling streets filled with normies—yet as always, your eyes caught on the hazy figures drifting past. A woman in a long gown floated through a wall. A soldier missing an arm sat on a bench, staring blankly at nothing. The living ignored them. You could not.

But nothing could have prepared you for what waited in Nevermore’s halls.

The moment you stepped under its gothic arches, the air grew heavier. Students brushed by you, chatter buzzing in the corridors—yet your gaze snagged on two figures approaching.

“Hi! You must be the new teacher!” Enid Sinclair greeted you with a smile as bright as her blonde curls. Sunshine wrapped in human form.

Beside her, clad in black, was Wednesday Addams. Sharp-eyed, silent, dangerous in her stillness. You’d read her file before being hired: brilliant, morbid, a trouble magnet. She studied you with unsettling calm.

But it wasn’t the two girls who made you pause.

It was the tall, elegant woman behind them. Draped in white, carved of moonlight. You recognized her instantly from old photos in Nevermore’s records. Principal Larissa Weems.

Except—Weems was dead.

You froze. Your gaze flicked between the students and the figure behind them.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Sinclair. Ms. Addams,” you greeted with a nod. But then your voice faltered as your eyes drifted back. “And… Miss?”

Wednesday’s stare sharpened. She turned, glanced over her shoulder, and then back to you. Her expression didn’t shift, but her words slipped out too quickly, too precise.

“You can see her?”

The question struck like a spark in the dark.

“Of course I can,” you said, almost laughing. “She’s standing right there. I’m not imagining her, right? Miss…?”

The woman’s surprise flickered before settling into a smooth smile. She raised her hand in instinct, extending it for a handshake.

“Larissa Weems,” she said. Her voice carried the same poised authority, even in death.

You reached out, fingers brushing nothing but cold air. Your hand passed straight through her like mist.

You froze, awe flooding you. “You’re… you’re really…”

But instead of terror, giddy disbelief bubbled up inside you. “Oh my god. This is incredible! You don’t look like the others at all—you’re solid. You’re real!”

Enid’s jaw dropped. “Wait. WHAT?!”

Wednesday, however, stood completely still. Her face unreadable.

You turned back to Enid with a grin. “Right. Where are my manners? I'll be your new psychic teacher. Outcast, sure.. My ability? err” You gestured grandly at Weems. “I see spirits.”

The silence thickened.

Enid clutched her books to her chest. “Ms. Weems is dead. Like, officially dead. And you’re just—just casually—”

Weems chuckled softly. “It seems I’m more present than I realized.”

You laughed, exhilarated. “Present? You’re practically glowing! Honestly, this is amazing—” You said, excited with the fact that this is your first time seeing a ghost that looked sooo solid and humane.

“Hallucinations with names,” Wednesday interrupted, her voice flat, calculated.

You scoffed. “Excuse me? She introduced herself.”

Weems glanced at you knowingly. Then, with a faint smile, she leaned ever so slightly toward Wednesday. “You don’t need to lie, my dear.”

For the briefest flicker of a second, Wednesday’s mask cracked. A twitch in her jaw. A flicker of something in her eyes—recognition, familiarity, a bond unspoken. And then, just as quickly, it was gone.

“I see nothing,” she said coolly.

But you caught it. That slip.

Weems’ faint smile deepened, proud yet secretive, as though only she and Wednesday understood the truth.

Your brows furrowed when you looked at the two, trying to connect the dots. “Yeah, sure. Totally blind. And I’m the Queen of England.”

Enid tugged at Wednesday’s sleeve, panic and excitement tangling in her voice. “Wait—you mean—Ms. Weems is actually still here? Like, walking around with us? Oh my god oh my god, this is—this is history class but haunted!”

Wednesday didn’t so much as blink. Her composure was flawless again. “You’re imagining things, Sinclair.”

But Weems’ ghost leaned closer to her, whispering with fondness only Wednesday could hear.

“Still as stubborn as the day I found you.”

And for the first time, you realized:

1. You weren’t the only one who could see her.

2. And Larissa seems to be looking real solid right now.

You still gawked at her excitedly, however keeping your eyes sight on Wednesday who seemed to see the same woman in front of you. Then to Larissa who was just smiling wistfully at you.