Y/N stacked the papers neatly back into the folder and slipped it beneath the loose floorboard under her bed. Her hands lingered there for a moment, pressing the wood back in place.
Wednesday could never know she had stolen the file. Not yet.
Wednesday was sharp, relentless. She’d turn this into her hunt alone and shut Y/N out the moment she caught wind of it. And something about Harper’s final words — “Someone wanted me silent” — felt too delicate, too dangerous, to expose without understanding it first.
Y/N sat back in her chair, staring at the dim light flickering from her lamp. Her heart beat steady but heavy, as if she had picked up a burden she couldn’t set down.
“Sorry, Wednesday,” she whispered under her breath. “This one… I have to figure out myself.”
~~•~~
The next morning, Wednesday was already waiting outside Y/N’s door, her arms folded, her expression unreadable.
“You were late,” she said flatly.
Y/N adjusted her bag over her shoulder, keeping her face neutral. “Didn’t sleep much. Big woman like me doesn’t exactly fit in those Nevermore beds.”
Wednesday’s eyes narrowed slightly, as though she could sense the lie beneath Y/N’s casual tone. But she didn’t press, only turned and started walking down the hall.
Celeste fell into step beside Y/N, giving her a small, knowing smile. “Rough night?”
“Something like that,” Y/N muttered.
Enid bounded up from the other side, linking her arm through Y/N’s like she always did. “You guys disappeared last night. Don’t think I didn’t notice. What were you two doing?”
“Research,” Wednesday cut in before Y/N could answer, her tone cutting like a blade. “You wouldn’t have liked it. Too many cobwebs and not enough neon lights.”
Enid rolled her eyes. “Riiight. Secrets and gloom. Typical Wednesday.”
Y/N chuckled under her breath, but her mind was elsewhere. Harper Doyle’s file burned like a hidden ember in her room. Every step, every word that morning, she felt its weight pressing against her conscience.
And across from her, Wednesday’s gaze flicked to her once, sharp and quiet, as if daring her to try keeping secrets.
Y/N slipped away after classes, telling Enid and Celeste she needed quiet to study. She knew better than to linger too long under Wednesday’s gaze, so she doubled back through the library corridors and disappeared into the old conservatory wing, Harper Doyle’s rumored hideout.
The place was forgotten — cracked windows draped with ivy, a stone bench sagging under its own weight, the air smelling faintly of mildew and dust. It felt like the kind of corner someone invisible to the rest of the world would have claimed as their sanctuary.
Y/N sat on the floor, her tall frame hunched as she unfolded Harper’s stolen records across the stone. The parchment was faded, but legible.
The official report: Harper Doyle. Cause of death — suicide. Three years ago.
Y/N frowned, her jaw tightening. “Suicide,” she whispered. The word felt wrong, heavy with forced certainty, like someone wanted the case closed before it had even opened.
She read further. Next of kin — sister. Name: [REDACTED]. Location: Unknown.
Y/N’s brows furrowed. A sister. The only family Harper had… and yet the records hadn’t preserved her name. Not erased, not scratched out — deliberately omitted.
YOU ARE READING
Imagines with Jenna Ortega
FanfictionThis is JennaxFemReader! Requests are open! This book can be another character played by Jenna Ortega. For most of the story, Y/N is taller than Jenna, but you can play smaller than her. enjoy!
