Multi-Fandom One Shots

Blue Skies Fade to Grey (Myrtle Snow)

Life as a witch certainly was no magic charm. Sure, you - as one of the most inexperienced witches in the coven - had few responsibilities, but the daily grind had always been difficult for you. Showing up to classes was easy; it had been programmed into children all over the country for 12 years. You'd never been too good at doing your homework, but living in your school made a difference. Having classes you were truly interested in made all the difference.

But life was life. You couldn't say precisely what it was exactly, but the feeling of you being inadequate and a general low had laid over you. You didn't have a method to fight it so you did your best not to spread it around. So you kept it inside and kept to yourself. You thought no one would notice and no one else would be affected.

However, you did have someone paying close attention to you and she would notice a change in your habits. Myrtle Snow, a professor of multiple educational topics, had become quite taken with you since you began your magical enlightenment. You were something of an oddball, as Myrtle had been in her school years, and you weren't afraid to speak up in her class or when you needed help. So what were you trying to shoulder alone and why? Myrtle waited until the responsibilities of the day could be put off for tomorrow to show herself. The redhead was passive all day in her monitoring of you and your emotions until Cordelia bid everyone goodnight. Even she would be staying up with the girls, but no one expected any coven work for the rest of the night. Dismissed, the woman went upstairs, to where she knew you'd sequestered yourself away to.

It didn't take too long for the woman to find what she wanted then finding your little nook in the library. Myrtle came to sit beside you, setting up her surprise. She gently took your head and turned you to her just enough that she could kiss your forehead. "Good evening, little love," Myrtle greeted.

You paused in your book, kissing her cheek in return.

"You missed supper."

You shrugged, going back to your book. It was in your lap so you faced entirely down.

Myrtle let out a knowing hum. You did this sometimes. Everyone did. Your company would ensure you ate the next morning. Now, she simply turned on the machine on a stand before her. Raising her hand elegantly, the ginger conjured a high pitch aura-like hum. She brought both hands up and conducted a celestial orchestra. You did enjoy her melodic practice with the theremin. And she knew it. This was the type of music which you could read to - wordless - but for some reason, you didn't. The book was good, one you'd read before, and you enjoyed it, but Myrtle's little hobby was better. Perhaps it was just her presence. Either way, you closed the book and sat back on the two-seater. You watched Myrtle's bare hands conduct sound from air and it wasn't even magic. You idly reached out to finger her large red locks. You twirled what you could, watching the frizz straighten amongst the rest. Instead of pulling, you pushed it all up into your fist before letting go to watch it return to the same way it always was. You watched the composed Myrtle Snow's petite frame shiver. Leaning forward, you lost your hand in those chaotic hairs. The weight beneath your hand slowly increased and you realized Myrtle was leaning into your touch. What really gave it away was the sharp note not following the rest of her beautiful composition. "Now, now, you know the heaven of your touch derails my artistic-"

You pressed your lips to the junction of her neck.

She was only putting up half of a fight, happy you were emerging from your depressive fog. Perhaps that was the key: Myrtle was the bait. "Oh, well then. Take my intrinsic need to make music and behold my muse."

You giggled into her ear.

To Myrtle, a victory! From your previously flat affect to making a sound more cherished to Myrtle than any formed by an instrument ever.

One of your arms slid over Myrtle's shoulder and your breath was hot on her neck. "Thank you," you mumbled into her skin, inching to sit directly next to her. Your book was reopened on your lap and you laid your head over on her shoulder. The two of you enjoyed the simple peace and you fed off of her calm.

That was one of the things you loved about Myrtle. Her effortlessness in practically everything she did. You knew no one started off that way, but you found her answers for everything intoxicating. She was dramatic, but she didn't get worked up. She could come up with a solution at the drop of a hat. She was witty and capable, powerful and merciless, but the kindest soul you'd ever met, with your shared "kind". In moments like these, you couldn't help but feel special that she chose you to keep an eye on, to visit when not 100%, to see her bedhead and non-designer clothes. You were so lucky that she chose you to kiss. And what a privilege it was that you exercised frequently.

You weren't sure when, but at some point, the dread trapping your mind and heart let go. You enjoyed the book as per usual, but Myrtle had taken up much of your thoughts. Mainly, you were focused on the idle music she made. You weren't sure if all of the music she made with a theremin sounded beautiful or if she was - like - playing notes.

Silence suddenly filled the room, followed by a single click. Looking up, you found Myrtle disassembling the stand and collapsing the instrument.

A spike of anxiety reared its ugly head and you marked your place, tucking the book underneath your arm. "Everything alright?" you checked in, worrying you'd missed something or done something. But, still, you bent to help her put away her musical tool.

Myrtle smiled at you when she straightened. "Absolutely, darling. I'm just through for tonight." She took in your calmer nod and smiled, reaching to hold your face. "Would you like a bath, my poor over-stressed spider?" How did you get so charmed? The lovely woman gave all of her attention to you, bright blue orbs twinkling just for you, just at you. And she touched you. A woman who had been so discarded and hid herself behind fabulous clothes and gloves, holding you - any part - with her bare hand. She was so gentle. So cautious after all she'd seen and experienced. You felt blessed, even moreso when she said your name, calling out in more care.

Your smile broadened. "Shower with me instead?" you requested.

Luckily, she agreed and you both went to her bathroom. If her mere touch was a charm, to be graced with the entirely bare Myrtle Snow.... You were blessed to be permitted in her shower at the same time as her. You let your constant self reminders fall silent in your mind with a kiss. Then, you played with her wet locks. You were free to play with them now because she would have to tame them again soon anyway. Myrtle laughed and it echoed around the tiled room. You wanted to record the sound. All you could do was pray you never stopped hearing it. "Turn around, silly girl."

You complied but complained. "But I want your hair!"

Myrtle silenced you with a neck kiss, leaving you entirely flustered on purpose. She lathered up your hair, letting you do the likewise once you were clean. You were naked, wet, warm, and content pretending you really had to lather in that shampoo. Eventually, Myrtle swatted you off and rinsed. She had a smirk as she handed you the conditioner. You hadn't realized she was finishing her own shower while you were absorbed in her magic hair. You dressed each other and fell into bed. Though, she couldn't see you with shut eyes and no glasses, she whispered, "Go ahead."

Ecstatically, you smiled and shuffled closer, burying your hand in her hair. You didn't even get to play with it, falling asleep with Myrtle Snow held securely to you.