Chapter Text
The weight of the coffee bags in your arms is nothing compared to the weight of taking over the Weathervane. About a month ago, you bought the place from a recent widow desperate to sell. She was brutally honest in that her husband, an avid camper, was a victim of the latest bear attacks happening in town and couldn’t bear to be in the area anymore (death gave her a morbid sense of humor and she couldn’t help but chuckle at herself). You knew it wouldn’t be easy taking over the shop, the couple clearly had deep-rooted ties in the community, and you wanted to do your best to honor their legacy under your new ownership.
That’s why today had to be perfect. You had moved here from out of state, and when you initially came to interview with the former owner, you learned about the relationship Jericho had with Nevermore. As a closeted outcast, you jumped at the opportunity to surround yourself with people who had abilities like you, even though you chose not to disclose this information. You were raised to believe that your abilities were unwelcomed and you felt the need to ease yourself into the town. Regardless, today was Outreach Day and you knew the shop would be packed. This was your chance to prove to the community that you have what it takes to keep the spirit of the Weathervane alive and well.
The bell above the door chimed as it closed behind you causing Tyler, your most experienced barista, to look up from the espresso machine. A wave of relief washed over him as he quickly ran to your side to assist with the burlap coffee bags that were clearly too heavy for you. “Just in the nick of time” he breathed out.
The lobby was packed as you both made a b-line to get back behind the bar. Regardless of how overwhelming the room felt, you were in your element. You loved the commotion, watching people mingle as they sipped on drinks you had the pleasure of pouring, all while upbeat jazz strung lightly over the speakers. Very quickly you found yourself lost in the momentum as you poured drinks and shared pleasantries with those who chose to sit at the bar. The only thing that pulled you from your state of bliss was this looming feeling that you were being watched. This wasn’t unusual as you were a new face in the community, but this felt different. You scan the crowd only to be stunned by a pair of soft blue eyes staring back at you. It felt like you had been locked in a trance, lost in her elegantly pinned blonde curls, red crimson lips that offered a gentle smile, and eyes filled with warmth and a tinge of curiosity as she had been observing you. It wasn’t until she gave you a slight nod that you realized you looked like a deer in headlights, staring at her for far too long. It was too late to hide your blush as you gave her a subtle nod back. You found yourself both thankful and hurt by the loss of eye contact when the Mayor approached her and stole away her attention.
Throughout the lunch rush, you couldn’t help but steal quick glances in her direction, only to feel your heart flutter when you caught her doing the same. You watch as her fingers delicately circle the top of her nearly empty mug. A sudden panic sinks in as you need to find a way to introduce yourself before she leaves. The line had died down and was enough for Tyler to handle himself. Maybe if you busy yourself in the lobby, you’ll find a reason to bump into this goddess. You walk towards the dish pin to tidy up the leftovers from customers. Backup stirrers and sweeteners are stored in the cabinet above, but your height does you no favors as you struggle to grasp them (mental note: buy a stool to hide in this corner).
Straining to reach, you barely hear the soft clicking of heels approaching behind you. You jolt slightly as a hand grazes the small of your back and another easily extends above you to grab the box of Splenda packets. You feel her cream coat brush against your shoulder and any attempt to string together a coherent thought is lost as a wave of vanilla and patchouli fogs your brain.
“Sorry darling, I didn’t mean to startle you” she chimed, peering down at you while handing you the box of sugar.
Even her voice causes your stomach to do somersaults, dripping in honey and a sensual English accent.
“Not at all, I would have been stuck here without your help” you respond a little more out of breath than intended.
She chuckles, fully aware of your nervousness and finding it endearing. In an attempt to regain some composure, you turn to face her, still painfully aware of the lack of space between you two. “I’m (Y/F/N), I’m the new owner of the Weathervane”
Her face immediately lit up, “Oh what a pleasure to meet you! Nicole mentioned that she was selling the shop. I’m Larissa Weems, the Princi…”
“The Principal of Nevermore Academy, yes! I’ve heard all about you and the work you’ve done to bridge the normie-outcast relations. Truly, it’s an honor to meet you”. In your initial research of Nevermore, you heard how the current Headmistress had made waves in forming a bond with the normie community. You’re not ready to admit it to her just yet, but her legacy was the final straw that made you feel safe enough to move here if you had any chance of exploring your own abilities. Still, you never envisioned someone so ethereal to be the one pulling the strings.
Larissa is shocked by your sudden praise and is flooded with an overwhelming sense of pride as you confirm the reputation she’s worked tirelessly to build. “I’m flattered you think so dear, not everyone shares that sentiment. Days like today are another attempt to heal our relationship”.
You can feel the joy seething from her words, but also riddled with the pain that she’s certainly endured in her uphill battle. The urge to further reassure her efforts gives your body a mind of its own as your hand instinctively reaches out to gently squeeze her arm “From what I see, today seems like a success, undoubtedly thanks to you” willing every ounce of sincerity into your gaze.
Not expecting to be whisked away by your admiration, she lets out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. It’s not until a certain red-headed professor appears at her side that she’s able to muster some semblance of her professionalism, “(Y/N), l’d like you to meet Marilyn Thornhill. In the spirit of outreach, she’s Nevermore’s first normie teacher!”
“Ah, of course, matcha latte! It’s always nice to match a name to an order” you interject as Marilyn finds herself slightly caught off guard by your recognition of her.
“Indeed! In fact, I was hoping that I would run into you. Tyler mentioned that his new boss was moving here from out of town. I wanted to welcome you to Jericho with a bouquet of peonies. They symbolize and celebrate a new beginning. I hope you don’t mind, I set them over by the register” Marilyn remarked, beaming as she gestured towards the bar proud of her handiwork.
“Oh you’re too kind Ms. Thornhill, they are lovely, I certainly don’t mind at all.”
Larissa, who continues to be astonished by your warmth, turns to Marilyn to remind her to keep her posted on a particular pig-tailed upstart. Marilyn lets out a toothy grin as she excuses herself. While you admire her cheerful presence, you are grateful to have Larissa to yourself again. A little territorial already? That was a new record for you.
Larissa shifts her attention back down to you, slightly tilting her head to the side and you feel as if you could melt into her if given the chance. In a desperate attempt to keep the conversation going, you decide to share a half-baked plan that you’ve been batting around. “Principal Weems, I’ve noticed that the students don’t seem to have jobs here in Jericho. Xavier has done a wonderful job today, and I thought in the spirit of outreach, it might be helpful to have a steady stream of outcasts engaging within the community on a more regular basis. I’d be happy to extend the Weathervane as a pilot run if that’s something the academy would be interested in”.
You hold your breath, hoping you haven’t overstepped, slightly self-conscience for proposing it in the first place. In an effort to hide your blush, you peer toward Xavier acutely aware of Larissa’s gaze raking over you. She feels your hesitation and slips her gloved finger under your chin coaxing your eyes to meet hers and coos “That’s a magnificent idea, but darling please, call me Larissa.”
At this point, she’s toying with you and is feeding off of the control that she’s regained over you, watching as your pupils dilate under her touch. If you didn’t know any better, you could have confused her fingers with a feather as they glided to rest on the backside of your jaw. “Perhaps we can make an appointment to discuss the logistics of your program. I presume you might find solace in Ms. Thronhill accompanying us over your shared status in the community.”
Your heart gets lodged in your throat, not at the prospect of seeing Larissa again, but at the realization that she mistook you as a normie. Do you correct her? Obviously, if there is anyone who would welcome a new outcast to the town, surely it would be the Principal of a school for outcasts. But the deep-seated resentment of your ability ingrained by your parents had a tighter chokehold on you than you care to admit. Your parents are normies and always seem to find a way to remind you that you are not one of them.
“Th.. that would be wonderful” leaning further into her touch in an attempt to hide your stutter, hoping she doesn’t see through your white lie, all while trying to convince yourself that’s all it was.
Her hand falls from your face, and you immediately ache at the loss of contact. She slips her hand into her coat pocket to reveal a business card, “I expect to hear from you soon then” she purrs as her voice drops an octave.
Almost on command, your core tightens as she gives you a swift wink that you surely would have missed if you hadn’t been so entranced by the desire pooling in her eyes. Eyes that now only had a thin rim of the beautiful blue they held earlier, making you dizzy at her growing lust. Feeling the upper hand, Larissa added an extra sway in her hips as she turned towards the door. You couldn’t help but be spellbound by how her dress hugged each of her curves beautifully, accentuating her broad shoulders that further claimed her authority.
“Oh and Ms. (Y/L/N), I do hope you don’t intend on altering anything about the hot chocolate recipe. The Weathervane has always had the best in town and I’m afraid I would be devastated if that were to change” she confessed giving you one last look, pleased to catch you relishing in her figure.
“I wouldn’t dream of it” you hum as the drumming in your chest drowns out the commotion around you while you watch her merge into the crowd outside.
After the explosion in the town square, the shop was pretty much dead for the evening and you decided to cut Tyler loose a little early and close up for the day. You chuckle to yourself weighing the likelihood that the “pig-tailed upstart” had a hand in the matter. Now that you're alone, it doesn't take long for you to lose yourself sweeping in circles, recounting every glance, every touch, every curvature from the spin of her curls down to her toned legs. Oh my lord, her legs.
You plop to the floor, taking in all the emotions from the day, letting the street lights be the main source of warmth looming through the windows. With a deep sigh, you dig for her business card in your pants pocket. You can’t help but smile seeing how the edges are already a little frayed as you’ve fiddled with it over the last few hours.
Your eyes are bouncing between her email and her phone number. This is a professional matter, you should email her. But you can’t help but feel giddy at the thought that Larissa Weems could have your number. You notoriously suck at giving women your number, yet she gave you hers on a silver platter and you’re still playing dumb. Your mind is racing, adding another layer of fear that reaching out to her tonight would come off as too eager. You’re normally much more composed and level-headed, how has she made you so weak so easily?
Trying to ignore the debate rattling in your brain, you prop yourself off the floor and lean back on your elbows. Your eyes wander the cafe until they lock in on the register. A small crease forms between your eyebrows as you narrow in on the peonies left behind by Ms. Thornhill. Whispering to yourself in the empty lobby “Huh… new beginnings”.
A devilish smirk consumes your cheeks as you open a new message to type in Larissa’s number. It’s safe to assume that she’s a woman who would appreciate a little forwardness and you feel emboldened by note.
As you hit send, you’re met with an overwhelming sense of confidence that propels you off the ground with a certain amount of energy you haven’t felt in years. With a grin stretching ear to ear, you lock up the shop and find your way home for the night. You’re hyper-aware of every movement, each action feeling intentional and strong. You’re only knocked off your high as you settle into your bedtime routine and try to calm yourself down enough to force a decent amount of sleep for tonight.
Images of Larissa opening your message plague your thoughts and eventually lull you into a happy, yet slightly anxious sleep. If it had only buzzed a few moments sooner, you would have heard the familiar chime from your phone leaving no more room for your incessant guessing.