Hazel

26 Years • She/They • Hopeless Romantic

[hazeltreefire]

Spring Break

Larissa Weems & Fem! Student (Platonic)

A young student struggles with her shapeshifting abilities as she slowly shifts into a baby. Larissa finds her in distress and vows to care for her.

Word Count: 2007

Tags: She/Her pronouns. 3rd POV (Fight me). Platonic Principal and Student dynamic. Distress/Comfort. SFW Agere.

A/N: This is my first fic in literal years and I enjoyed writing it a lot. I might end up writing a second part too. Thank you to anyone who reads it. Okay, here you go, bye!

Spring Break was often the time Nevermore teachers could finally breathe. They had the chance to catch up on work, or sleep, while the chaos of students was no longer present. Though not all students were able to return home for the break, it was still quieter. Naturally, Principal Larissa Weems made sure the school continued to run. One could argue her work load seemed to increase with the upcoming supposed 'rest' time. She was ever the busy-body. Nevermore was her life's work, her baby, the thing she'd never neglect. Every student attending and every teacher chosen was a testament to her commitment to Nevermore's success.

Even now she gracefully marched through the halls, her heels clacking on the cobblestone, with a bright red lipped smile on her face. A wonderful smile that often left her cheeks sore. Yet another aspect of her success. The sacrifice of all her energy. It was a wonder Larissa was able to carry on in such high spirits while simultaneously dictating such a massive school. Yet she seemed to do it with ease, elegance and agility. She was always on her toes. Ready to jump into action at any moment. A quarrel in the courtyard, a repeated class clown, a dispute over classroom supplies, faint crying from the washrooms...

Faint crying from the washrooms.

She abruptly stopped. Her heels scraped on the floor as she came to a halt. Her head almost snapped in the direction of the washrooms. The air filled with distressing cries echoing at her as Larissa took cautious steps closer. She pushed the door open, careful not to spook the sorrow sounding child. A pair of uniform shoes sat on the floor in a stall and she came to stand before it.

"Hello?"

Her voice was gentle yet a bit coaxing. She cannot help but feel concerned at the possible pain of another, especially a student.

A small gasp interrupts the weeping and Larissa's concern grows with the silence that follows. For a moment she pauses on how to proceed. It wasn't completely rare for it to be she who handled a student's emotional distress. She cheered many students up in the past. Though not often did she run into a student sounding in such utter turmoil. She swallowed and pushed her doubts aside for the time being. A student needed her.

"Can you hear me in there, dear?"

She heard a slight shuffle before a small voice replied, "...yes."

"Do you think you can come out so I can speak to you properly?"

"NO."

The denial was immediate. The sound is almost a yelp. It caused Larissa to consider her potential avenues. She was still weighing options when the little voice returned.

"Principal Weems?"

The sound of her title spoken so softly and weary made her eyes widen.

"It's me."

The air sat in heavy silence for a moment.

The lock of the door clicked. When it only swung back a bit, and the student didn't pull it open, Larissa took the chance to gently push it forward. Her heart sank when she looked down at the toilet to see a young student. What looked to be a first year. The girl cowered as she seemed to hold a jacket over her lap.

Larissa knelt down to be face to face with the girl who was hiding behind the hood of her sweater.

"Can you tell me what's going on, dear?"

The girl bunched herself up to close herself off even more. She looked as if she were praying the world would swallow her whole. Larissa took the moment to take in the sight of her. The way she squeezed the fabric of her jacket over her lap. Yet she seemed to still be wearing a long skirt. She attempted to shuffle closer but kicked something by mistake. Hearing a slight skid on the ground Larissa's gaze flicked downward. The girl's shoes sat empty on the floor and no feet or legs in sight.

"Is there something wrong with your legs?"

The student froze in place and remained hidden in her hood. It seemed Larissa had hit the nail on the head. She swore she could see large eyes peaking towards her beneath the shadows.

"May I see?" Larissa spoke softly, "I promise I won't hurt you."

The young student's eyes slowly rose to meet the bright blues of her principal. Larissa smiled gently and a moment of understanding passed between them. The girl slowly sat up, let go of her jacket and pulled back her skirt. Larissa had to withhold her initial reaction as she saw not the legs of a young teen but those of babe. It was an odd sight, yet, the situation suddenly struck her in a familiar place.

"Dear, are you a shapeshifter?"

Her answer came in a flood of tears and a choked sob that stuck in her throat. Larissa shuffled closer and rested her gloved hand on her arm.

"Shh, shh, dear, it's alright."

All the pieces fell into place for the principal. Her student was a shapeshifter struggling to control her powers. Larissa remembered those times when limbs would randomly change or something would be too big or small. Though her student seemed to be shrinking and aging down.

"It's not stopping," the girl wept.

The poor girl's arm had begun to shrink as the slow, awkward transformation sped up a bit.

"My mum worried about letting me go to boarding school," she suddenly blurted.

"Because I keep losing control. It keeps happening to me and I can't stop it. I told her I had it under control. But I lied. I just wanted to come to Nevermore... I wanted to make friends."

Larissa's heart ached at this sudden confession. This young student just wanted to be normal, well, as normal as outcasts could get, and attend school like everyone else.

"Why won't it stop?!”

The girl shifted her head to look at Larissa better and her hood fell back slightly in the process. Only a small tuffet of baby hairs seemed to remain on her head. With a gentle squeeze of her arm Larissa spoke.

"Some shapeshifters struggle in their early teens," she explains, "your body is still adjusting to its abilities. It's different for everyone but this is not uncommon."

The girl brushed away her tears with her free hand. Larissa saw that the pinky on that hand had already begun to shrink and youthenize. She opted to remain silent for the time being but knew that soon enough the girl would be fully shifted.

"I don't know what to do..." the child whimpered.

This is when Larissa practically sprung into action.

"First, we need to get you somewhere comfortable and-"

"I had something ready..." the girl interrupts, "I... I have a place in my dorm set for when it happened... before I didn't make it back in time."

Larissa nodded in understanding before asking her next question.

"May I pick you up?"

The young girl had no choice but to agree despite her utter embarrassment. Larissa paid the discomfort no mind. She knew what it was like to lack control over your own body's function. And unfortunately succumb to those functions.

With the girl’s little nod of approval Larissa carefully scooped up her student and held her firm but gentle. Larissa could almost feel the way the girl’s torso was shrinking ever so slowly. Little time remained, so Larissa quickly made her way deeper into the school and into the right dorm room. The other roommate's side was empty and carefully cleaned, assumingly gone home for the break. Whilst the other bed was unmade and the desk toppled with bookstacks and notepads.

In the corner was a set up of pillows that blocked off a small section of the floor. A couple blankets lay on the floor with a pacifier, a premade bottle and a pair of pajamas. It was endearing but utterly heartbreaking.Larissa’s student had seemingly gone to great lengths to prepare for this situation she planned to endure alone.

"Oh, dear," Larissa murmured as she set the girl down on her bed.

She was getting smaller and smaller by the moment. Her sweater and skirt almost swallowed her whole.

"You seem to be fully prepared," Larissa smiles a bit.

"I tried to bring as much from home as I could..." the girl sighs, "Sometimes I don't shift back for a while."

"How long was the longest shift?" Larissa asks as she grabs the onesie and diaper from the floor.

"Two days," the girl admitted, a touch of shame in her tone.

Larissa came to stand beside the bed again. She could see how her student was getting close to fully shifting. Her little whimper was like a dagger to Larissa's chest. 

"I'm scared."

Larissa brushed a hand over the now small round skull of a child.

"I'll take care of you."

There were no words but the girl's eyes widened before they relaxed and she fully slipped into the shift. Her whole body now returned back to its former years. The girl's wide eyed gaze was still on Larissa, and though her student could no longer speak, Larissa saw the recognition in the little girl's pupils. It made Larissa smile. A real smile. Not one she wore like the lipstick on her skin, not the one that stung her cheeks. A gentle and natural smile.

Larissa carefully removed the clothes that now swallowed the babe and put her in more appropriate attire. The onesie fit perfectly for her little limbs. Larissa gently maneuvers them into the legs and sleeves. Occasionally getting her thumb caught in a tiny and tight grip. The gesture earned a giggle from the principal, and the baby in turn.

With the girl dressed and content, Larissa picked her up again and settled her on her hip. She found a bag with more supplies in the student’s wardrobe before taking it all back to the place they'd be most safe and comfortable; Larissa's office and home.

Inside her own space Larissa went about putting bottles in her kitchen and creating a little bassinet out of her laundry basket for sleep. Whether she remained a baby for an hour or two whole days, Larissa was ready to dedicate her time to making sure her student was properly cared for.

In her office beside her armchair she laid down a blanket and some toys from the bag. Yet when she tried to put her down, the babe refused to let go. Her tiny fists gripped tight at the green fabric of Larissa's dress. Larissa chuckled softly as she rubbed the little one's back.

"You wish to remain with me, do you?" Larissa smiled and began to pace slowly around her office.

Her heels occasionally click on the hardwood like a soft ticking metronome. She pulled the babe's small frame to her chest still rubbing her back in a soothing motion. The little girl looked up at Larissa for a moment. The recognition was still present in her eyes before she lowered her head down. Larissa felt the warmth against her clothes and seeping to her skin. Larissa seemed to melt with the gesture, as if getting even more gentle. Larissa's smile was practically permanent as she swayed, pacifying the babe to sleep.

For the first time in a very long time Larissa felt a sense of calm come over her. Emails could wait, deadlines could wait, the outside world could wait. In the moment there was nothing but Larissa's lulling rocks and a baby's tiny snores. Larissa took a deep breath and let the stresses of her day wash away. There was something that needed her attention but also provided her with the chance to relax herself. Her constant chaos came to a heavy but well needed halt.

Larissa sat back in her armchair continuing to hold the babe close and watching the flickering flames of the hearth. Perhaps this spring break would truly be as relaxing as it should be.

[glacierllane]

the stealer

@lukavas and @lesbianweems saying it's Larissa's jacket in my shitpost

the justification:

the 6'3 bed stealer every night

[iazsigma]

Finally finished her at last...

[moonfrosts]

More,more

#gabycina

[mephistoic]

it’s been a while since my last sketch… i’m offering bushcina as an apology

[wyrm-house]

[nonalimmen]

© Nona Limmen {Instagram / Website}

[guiltfactory]

BAD NEWS: it will not be the same forever

GOOD NEWS: it will not be the same forever

[ghostandthebanshees]

this fanfic shit is easy

[harlith]

[adventurelandia]

The Haunted Mansion (2003)

[morgansss-blog]

By god if I were an inanimate object I’d be her necklace

[milfsloverblog]

Hi :) I hope you're well x I have just been drawing a Brienne scene where she is polishing her sword by a river (I've not seen GOT), and I love how peaceful an image it is. I was wondering whether you might write care to write something where Brienne is maybe escorting 'reader' somewhere, or protecting her, and reader 'dismisses' her for the night, expecting the knight to go drinking and carousing, but instead finds her taking solace alone, surrounded by nature, and finding her peace by taking care of the sword that has saved her life on many occasions. Maybe seeing that makes the (formerly irritable/aloof/demeaning of Brienne) reader see her protector in a new light x

Thank you x

Down by the Riverside

Brienne of Tarth x fem!reader

A/N: Thank you so much for this request, it’s always a pleasure writing for Brienne. I almost feel jealous of reader and that sweet moment. I hope this will do justice to your piece of art! 💙

You had expected her to be gone by now.

When you’d waved her off at twilight with a careless flick of the wrist and a half-hearted, “You’re dismissed, Ser,” you assumed she'd take it as an invitation to vanish into town—drink herself to forgetfulness, perhaps, or find crude camaraderie among the sellswords who had begun to gather near the village inn. It’s what most knights did when released from duty. Even the noble ones.

But Brienne of Tarth was not most knights.

You’re beginning to understand that now, though you’d spent the last several days pretending otherwise. The journey south had been long and dust-coated, her silent presence at your back both a comfort and an irritation. She was everything you resented about the world of swords and oaths—honor-bound, duty-struck, unmoved by the subtleties of politics or manipulation. A wall of virtue where you preferred open windows.

She hadn’t asked for your story, which was surprising. Most protectors tried to unravel their charges quickly, sensing either threat or advantage. But Brienne didn’t prod. She didn’t flirt. She didn’t indulge in gossip or even much in the way of pleasantries. She simply was—towering, loyal, and ever-watchful.

You had mocked her under your breath, called her “my shadow” and “the maid of silence.” You’d said cruel things when the path grew tedious and tempers frayed. She never responded. Only blinked once, as if to bat away the sting.

But now…

Now, you find her by the river. Not by design. You had wandered away from camp hoping for quiet, or maybe for some restless movement to shake the thoughts from your head. You hadn’t meant to seek her. And yet, when you step through the low brush and catch the glint of silver in the dying light, you stop short.

Brienne sits alone by the water’s edge, legs crossed, boots set beside her, sleeves rolled to the elbow. Her sword lies across her lap like a sleeping creature, and she moves the cloth in slow, reverent strokes across its surface. Not polishing for show, you realize. Not for the gleam. But for the care. For the memory.

You stay half-hidden among the trees, watching.

The river laps gently at her feet. Fireflies have begun their dance. And though you see the heavy exhaustion clinging to her frame—her shoulders slumped with travel, her neck tilted slightly as if long burdened—you also see something you hadn’t noticed before.

Peace.

She finds it here. In the solitude. In the way the world narrows to a single blade and a quiet stream.

You don’t know what compels you to step forward, but you do. A twig cracks beneath your boot, and her head lifts at once. She doesn’t reach for the sword. Doesn’t rise. Only turns her face toward yours, solemn and still.

“You’re meant to be resting,” she says, not unkindly. “It’ll be another long ride tomorrow.”

You shrug. “Could say the same to you.”

A pause.

“This is rest.”

You fold your arms, not out of defiance but for lack of anything better to do with your hands. She makes no move to hide what she’s doing, doesn’t stiffen or retreat. You sense she has no need to defend herself. Not from you, not from anyone. Her solitude is not shameful.

But you feel shame anyway.

“I thought you’d be in the village by now,” you say, sitting down a few feet away, unsure why you’ve decided to stay. “Drinking. Laughing. Sleeping somewhere warm.”

She looks out toward the river. “I don’t often find what I need in places like that.”

You examine her face in profile—strong jaw, soft mouth, windburnt cheeks. There’s a quiet dignity to her that you’d mistaken for arrogance. But now… now you see the weight behind it. The history.

“The sword,” you say. “You’ve had it a long time.”

She nods. “Oathkeeper.”

There’s a story there. You wait. But she doesn’t offer it, and strangely, you don’t resent her for it.

You glance down at the blade. “You polish it every night?”

“When I can.” A pause. “A sword that serves you well deserves care.”

“And does it? Serve you well?”

She finally turns to look at you—really look—and her eyes are a stormy blue, striking even in the fading light.

“It’s saved my life more than once,” she says. “But it’s not the sword. It’s the purpose.”

You blink. “Which is?”

“Keeping those in my charge safe.”

You exhale slowly. “Even when they don’t make it easy?”

Brienne’s lips twitch, but it’s not quite a smile. “Especially then.”

You’re quiet for a moment, digesting that.

She doesn’t gloat. Doesn’t remind you of your own behavior. She simply lets the truth lie between you, like the sword across her lap.

“You think I’m ungrateful,” you murmur.

“No,” she says gently. “I think you’re afraid.”

That strikes deeper than you’d like.

You scowl. “Of what?”

“Trusting someone who doesn’t want anything from you.”

That silences you.

Because it’s true.

For so long, everyone who stayed near you did so out of ambition or lust or hunger for secrets. Even those who claimed to care always seemed to take more than they gave.

But Brienne, she hadn’t asked for coin. Hadn’t pressed you for answers. Hadn’t even flinched when you lashed out in your exhaustion and fear. She simply walked beside you, sword at her side, gaze scanning the horizon.

And here she is. Alone in the woods. Polishing a sword like a prayer.

You swallow hard. “Why do you do it?”

She doesn’t pretend to misunderstand.

“Because once, someone believed I was worth protecting. And now I try to do the same for others.”

You feel something twist inside you—quiet and painful.

“No one’s ever said that to me before,” you say. “That I was worth protecting.”

Her eyes soften. “Then they were fools.”

You turn away, blinking too quickly. You hadn’t meant for this night to shift you. You hadn’t meant to see her.

But you do.

Brienne, not just the knight. Brienne, not just your shadow. Brienne, sitting barefoot by a river, cradling the sword that has saved her more than once, the sword she uses to save others.

You draw your knees to your chest. Sit in silence beside her, neither of you speaking.

Eventually, she returns to her task, the cloth whispering over the blade.

You watch her work, and for the first time since this journey began, you feel safe.

Not because she’s strong. But because she cares.

And that, you realize, is rarer than any sword. More precious than any armor.

She glances sideways at you after a while. “You should rest.”

“Maybe,” you say. “But I like it here.”

Brienne nods, once, then turns her attention back to the river.

You stay until the stars appear, and when she stands to leave, you rise beside her.

Not as her burden.

But as someone who sees her now.

And hopes, perhaps, that she sees you too.

————————————————————————

Taglist : @weemssapphic @cblanchetts , @valerielovebug , @schlaegerpaula , @suckerfortallwomen , @dingdongthetail @gwensfz @erablaise-blog @rainbow-hedgehog @renravens @kaymariesworld @niceminipotato @notmeellaannyy @weemswife @m-0-mmy-l-0-ver33 @redkarine @women-are-so-ethereal @opheliauniverse e @willisnotmental @raspburrythief @vii-v @fictionalized-lesbian @theboreworms @ness029 @geekyarmorel l @h-doodles @cxndlelightx @winterfireblond @nocteangelus15 @aemilia19 @theswordmaiden @spacetoaim22 @anbadann @vendocrap8008 @jkregal @mysteriouslysapphic

[strangledplanet]

[si3art]

Lady Dimitrescu~°•🖤🥀🥀🥀

[moonfrosts]

#for the night owls.

#That 🧐chib OMG

#gabycina💕

[igelmanz]

I sketched Larissa:)

I didn’t use a reference so this might not be entirely accurate but I love the way it turned out

(Just realized I forgot to erase the collarbones)