#Abbott elementary

[gregoryandjanine]

ABBOTT ELEMENTARY (2021- ) 2x10 | 2x22 | 4x14

[aliviagene]

babies 😕

#i love a good slow burn/relationship development ABBOTT ELEMENTARY (2021- )

[babytakeittothehead]

Melissa Schemmenti at Abbott Elementary s4e14: District Budger Meeting

taglist: @morgana-larkin @winters-witch24 @milfjuulpod

[abbottfansstuff]

Shifting Tides

Author's Note: I have not written a story in over four years. Deleted Tumblr and AO3. No inspiration, but then I came across Abbott. Melissa.. and I am back...Hope you enjoy the story! PLEASE be honest in your feedback. THANK YOU!

Before Emily came along, it was just you and Melissa. You’d spent countless late nights grading papers, shared impromptu lunch breaks filled with sarcasm, and enjoyed those quiet moments where nothing needed to be said. Melissa Schemmenti was the one person you could always rely on—her dry humor, witty comments, and no-nonsense attitude made her stand out amidst the chaos of Abbott Elementary.

You and Melissa had a rhythm, a comfortable pattern. It wasn’t perfect, but it was real. You knew exactly how she liked her coffee—lots of sugar, enough to make anyone's teeth ache. You had memorized every sarcastic comeback she had for every student situation. The two of you spent hours in the teacher’s lounge, complaining about the state of education and laughing until your sides hurt.

Life was simple back then—rooted in a friendship and something deeper. You had imagined, countless times, what it would be like to hold her, to kiss her, to care for her the way she had always cared for you. The way she had always been steady, protecting and supporting you, made you want to return that same tenderness. You’d thought about it more than you admitted, the idea of her in your arms feeling natural. But until now, it had stayed in the quiet corners of your mind, tangled with the threads of your friendship, growing harder to ignore with each passing day.

But when Emily arrived, everything shifted.

At first, it was subtle. Her smile, her laughter, the way she’d pull you into conversations, trying to make a connection. It didn’t seem like much at first, but you started to notice the change in your routine. Emily’s presence began to take up more space, and with it, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something between you and Melissa wasn’t quite the same anymore.

There was a new tension in the air, an unspoken shift that you couldn’t quite place. And while you tried to ignore it, things were clearly changing.

---

You started to notice this change during Teacher Appreciation Day. The teacher’s lounge was buzzing with excitement. The air smells of flowers and sweet notes, with each desk adorned with cards and thoughtful gestures. As you make your way through the room, you find a small, elegant vase resting on the corner of the table—a gift from Melissa. Inside, there’s a beautiful cream-colored rose with a red border. It’s simple, yet so thoughtfully Melissa. The delicate petals remind you of her—refined, a little guarded, but full of care.

But just as you admire it, you hear a voice behind you. It’s Emily, holding a massive bouquet of vibrant pink and white roses, the colors of spring practically leaping from the paper. She hands them to you with a bright smile, her eyes meeting yours for a moment longer than necessary. You thank her politely, though there's an odd tension in the air. You glance around and catch Melissa’s gaze from across the room, her lips pressed tight, her jaw clenched as she watches you accept the bouquet.

You can’t miss the shift in the air—the way Melissa seems to shrink into herself, the way her fingers curl around her coffee cup. She bites her lip as she watches you, the quiet question in her eyes: Why didn’t I do more? The doubt gnaws at her, though she pushes it away. She had planned something bigger for you—maybe a lunch, something personal to show you how much she appreciates your friendship—but now, with Emily’s grand gesture, it all feels insignificant.

Before you can approach, Melissa slipped out of the lounge, leaving the cream-colored rose on the table untouched.

Barbara watched the exchange with a raised brow but didn’t say a word, her eyes flicking between you and the empty chair Melissa just vacated. The rest of the teachers continued bustling around, unaware of the silent shift in the room. You can’t help but stare at the lonely rose.

After school, you find yourself standing in front of Melissa’s classroom door, feeling the pull to check in on her. You knock lightly, the sound a little louder than you intended in the empty hallway. There’s a soft shuffle from inside before she calls out, “Yeah?”

You push the door open and step inside. She’s at her desk, papers scattered around her, the usual calm façade masking the emotion you know is just beneath the surface.

“Hey,” you say, making your way over to her desk. “I wanted to give you this.”

You place a small box on her desk—your own offering of appreciation, wrapped carefully with a bow. Melissa raises an eyebrow, her gaze flicking from the box to you.

You hesitate for a moment, unsure if you should say anything more. But when you meet her eyes, you see something there—something vulnerable, something that makes your chest tighten. She looks at the box for a moment longer, then finally lets out a breath.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do this,” she says quietly, her voice a little softer than usual.

“I wanted to,” you reply simply.

You linger for a moment, your heart racing, unsure if you’re reading the situation correctly. But in the quiet of the classroom, it feels like there’s a space between you that’s been growing for a while now, a space you’re both starting to notice more and more.

Without thinking too much, you lean in gently and place a soft kiss on her cheek, a light, tender gesture that speaks volumes in the silence.

Melissa goes still for a moment, her breath catching before she turns to look at you. There’s a softness in her eyes now, a flicker of something deeper. She doesn’t pull away, though she doesn’t say anything either, her gaze lingering on you.

You both stand there, the world outside her classroom fading away as the tension between you feels more real than ever before. Neither of you speaks, but the moment lingers. Neither of you needs to say a word to understand what’s happening.

----

A week goes by, and the field trip to the science museum is finally here, and you’re buzzing with excitement. You had been looking forward to this day—not only because of the museum but because you were planning to sit with Melissa on the bus. She had casually mentioned earlier in the week that the two of you could ride together, and you were looking forward to the chance to catch up in the quiet of the bus ride.

You sit down by the window, feeling the bus hum to life as you settle in. You spot Melissa greeting the last student boarding the bus, her smile lighting up her face when she spots you. Just as you’re waiting for her to come over, Emily walks down the aisle, her bright smile already plastered across her face. Without hesitation, she plops down in the seat next to you—the one that was supposed to be reserved for Melissa. She pulls out a bag of snacks, happily munching away, completely unaware of the unspoken plan.

“Hey! Got some snacks, want some?” Emily asks, her voice a little too chipper for this early morning bus ride.

You smile awkwardly, a little surprised, but shake your head. “No, thank you."

You glance over your shoulder and see Melissa walking down the aisle, her gaze fixed on the seat next to you. Melissa’s expression falters for just a moment—her eyes narrow slightly, but she doesn’t say anything. Melissa slows down, scanning for a new seat. Her eyes flick to the back of the bus, and then she gives a slight shrug, taking a seat farther away. The disappointment is quick, but it’s there.

You try not to let it show, but as the bus hums to life, you can feel a strange tension building between you and Melissa. She crosses her arms, staring out the window, her body language tight and unreadable. There’s a quiet space between you now, one that wasn’t there before, and you can’t help but wonder if Emily’s cheerful presence has unintentionally created a distance that wasn’t there this morning.

Barbara, ever the observant one, notices Melissa’s mood shift and moves to sit next to her. She leans in, her voice soft but teasing. “Melissa, honey, you alright? You’re looking like you’re sitting this one out today.”

Melissa forces a grin, her eyes flicking to Barbara but not quite meeting her gaze. “I’m fine,” she replies, but her voice is distant. “Just letting Emily have her fun, I guess.”

Barbara raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push further. “Mm-hmm. Sure, honey, sure. Whatever you say.”

The trip itself is full of the usual chaos. Kids run around excitedly as you all explore the museum. You try to focus on the exhibits while attempting to ignore Emily's constant chatter.

By the time the trip back rolls around, Emily tries to take the seat next to you again. She’s beaming, telling you about some exhibit that caught her eye, but before you can respond, Barbara pipes up from the front of the bus.

“Oh, Emily, dear,” she says, her tone both playful and knowing. “Why don’t you sit next to me? I am famished, and I'm sure you have some of those snacks left.”

Emily looks up, grinning sheepishly. “I do!"

Without hesitation, Melissa rises from her seat, her gaze briefly flicking over to you before she slides into the empty spot beside you. Her knee brushes against yours, and though she doesn’t look at you right away, you feel the electric charge of the moment.

She places her hand on the edge of the seat, and to your surprise, her pinky gently nudges against yours. It’s a small gesture, but it doesn’t go unnoticed. She quickly pulls her hand back, but the unspoken connection is there between the two of you, palpable in the quiet hum of the bus.

Barbara, watching the whole exchange, leans back and winks at you. “You are welcome,” she mutters, just loud enough for you to hear.

You roll your eyes but don’t say anything, the corners of your lips tugging into a reluctant smile. “You’re ridiculous, Barbara.”

You can’t help but laugh at the lightness of the moment, the tension from earlier finally beginning to melt away. As the bus heads back to Abbott Elementary, the conversation settles into a comfortable silence between you and Melissa. There’s a quiet understanding between the two of you now, something more than friendship, though neither of you is ready to admit it just yet.

It’s a small moment, but in that quiet, shared space, you both know that things between you are starting to shift—and neither of you is quite sure where it will lead.

----

It’s hard to believe it’s already been a month since the field trip. Time moves strangely—fast in some ways, slow in others. That day still lingers in your mind, but even more than that, so does the way things have shifted between you and Melissa.

Our relationship is still the same in many ways—we still spend time together, still joke around, and still move through the same spaces. But something is different. It’s in the way her eyes linger on you just a little longer than before, the way she watches you when we’re out with the group like she’s studying you in a way she never used to.

And then there was that night at the club—Emily had been getting a little too close on the dance floor. Before you could even react, Melissa was there, stepping in behind you, pressing close as she swayed with you to the beat.

“Just making sure you’re good,” she had murmured into your ear, her breath warm against your skin. But the way she held you, the way her touch lingered—it felt like more than just protection.

Even in the smallest moments, you feel it now—the accidental brushes that last a second too long, the way she always seems to find a reason to touch you, the unspoken something hanging between both of you.

Yeah, things are still the same. But also… they’re not.

"Are you ready?" Melissa's voice pulls you out of your thoughts, snapping you back to reality. She stands at the classroom door, leaning against the frame with that familiar ease, watching you with an expression you can’t quite place. As always, she had come to pick you up for lunch at the teacher's lounge.

Shaking off your thoughts, you grab your things, and together, you make your way down the hall, falling into an easy conversation about plans for the upcoming winter break.

Janine and Jacob have transformed the teacher’s lounge into a Christmas wonderland—twinkling lights, cookies stacked high, and a massive tree standing proudly in the corner. They even hung mistletoe above the doorway, giggling like children who just figured out a joke.

You walk in with Melissa, your arms full of papers and a coffee cup, when Barbara steps in front of you both with a mischievous smile, holding a plate of cookies as if she's just won a prize. “Oh, look! Under the mistletoe! Perfect timing, don’t you think?”

You blink, catching sight of the mistletoe above and then looking back at Barbara, realizing you’ve walked right into a holiday trap. Melissa freezes beside you, her face going from neutral to a shade of red you’ve never seen before. She stares at you, her eyes wide with the kind of look that says she’s been caught in a situation she has absolutely no idea how to handle.

Barbara, thoroughly enjoying the discomfort she’s causing, nudges you both with a wink. “Go on, now. Just a little kiss.. for the sake of tradition” she teases.

You glance at Melissa, who’s doing her best to pretend the entire situation doesn’t exist, staring at the floor like it's about to open up and swallow her. Her voice is barely a whisper, “Go ahead, Y/N. It’s… fine.”

Before you can process what she just said, Emily, who has been watching this entire exchange with the grin of someone who knows exactly how to stir the pot, steps forward with exaggerated enthusiasm. “Alright, I volunteer!” she says with a dramatic flourish, as if she’s ready to swoop in and take over.

You freeze, your brain scrambling for a way out. But before you can even think of anything, something shifts in the air. Without warning, Melissa suddenly leans in, her eyes still avoiding yours, and presses her lips softly against yours. It’s quick, unexpected, but there's an undeniable spark in the contact. A light, lingering kiss that feels like the answer to everything unspoken between you two.

Melissa pulls away almost immediately, her face now bright red. She doesn’t meet your eyes, instead looking anywhere else in the room. There’s a brief silence as you stand there, stunned, unsure of whether to laugh or say something—anything.

Emily, who was about to jump in and kiss you herself, watches in shock. “Well, that was a plot twist I didn’t see coming!” she says with a playful grin.

Barbara, ever the observer, chuckles and winks at both of you. "Now, who’s ready for cookies?”

You and Melissa stand there, the air between you suddenly charged with a new kind of tension. Melissa quickly grabs a cookie off the plate, clearly trying to act casual, but her hands are a little shakier than usual. She keeps her eyes on the cookie, unwilling to meet yours, as she takes a small bite.

You, still slightly reeling from the kiss, glance at her. The moment feels both awkward and… strangely intimate.

“Alright, let’s eat,” she says with a slightly forced cheerfulness, attempting to brush off the whole thing. But you can’t help but feel that the mistletoe moment is far from over—especially when you catch the way she looks at your lips.

---

The night is cold, a chill creeping in as you curl up on the couch with a book. Your thoughts are somewhere else, though, distracted by everything that’s happened earlier—by the kiss, by the confusion, and the way Melissa looked at your lips.

Then, there's a knock at your door.

You open it to find Melissa standing on the other side, her cheeks flushed from the cold, her breath visible in the frosty air. She hesitates for a moment, her eyes searching yours as if unsure of what she’s looking for, before stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. She stands there for a second, not saying anything, just breathing in the quiet of the room.

Finally, she speaks, her voice quieter than usual. “I can’t stop thinking about the kiss,” she admits, her eyes dropping to the floor. She pauses, biting her lip as if trying to hold herself together. “I just needed you to know that I—I can’t help how I feel about you. I didn’t think it’d be this hard, but... here I am.”

Her words hang in the air, and you feel a rush of emotions flooding in, but before you can respond, Melissa's gaze shifts, a deep sadness taking over. “I just... I don’t want to come between you and Emily. I know she’s younger, and... more your type. She’s—she’s closer to your age, and she gets you in a way I can’t. I mean, I’m just... well, I’m not really someone who knows how to say things like this. And now I’ve gone and messed everything up,” she continues, her voice trembling, her hands clasped tightly in front of her as if trying to hold herself together.

Your heart aches seeing her so vulnerable, this side of Melissa that rarely shows through. You can feel the weight of her self-doubt. The tension from the past few weeks, the confusion about what was happening, everything is laid bare in her words.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have... gotten in the way of you two. She’s probably everything you need, right? She’s fresh, she’s lively, and she fits with you. I’m just... I’m just a mess, and I didn’t mean to drag you into my chaos.” Her voice cracks at the end, and she looks away, as though the mere thought of saying it makes her feel exposed.

You feel your heart beat a little faster at her words, but you’re not sure how to respond yet. You want to say something to ease her mind, to let her know that you're here, that she’s not in the way.

Before you can say anything, Melissa lets out a shaky breath, looking back up at you, her eyes wet with unshed tears. “I just want you to be happy. I want you to have what you deserve... and I’m not sure if that’s me.”

Her words sting, though you know she doesn’t mean to hurt you. But it’s clear she’s spiraling, feeling like she’s somehow unworthy of something you both deserve. You take a deep breath, stepping closer, the space between you feeling charged and fragile.

“Melissa,” you begin softly, your voice full of reassurance. You gently reach out and place a hand on her shoulder, feeling the slight tension in her body. “Stop. You’re not in the way. This has nothing to do with age or who fits with who. It’s about us... and how we make each other feel.”

Melissa shakes her head, still uncertain. “But Emily—she’s everything you deserve. I’m not sure I can be that for you. I’m... I’m older, complicated. And she’s young, she has time, she’s—she’s everything I’m not.”

The words break something in you, and you move even closer, cupping her face gently, your thumb brushing away the tear that has escaped her eye. You know she’s in a spiral, unsure of what she truly deserves, and it hurts to see her like this.

“You’re everything I need... and want” you say, your voice steady but full of conviction. “It’s not about age or how you compare to anyone else. It’s about you and me, what we’ve built, and how we make each other better. I’m not looking for someone else. I’m looking for you.”

Melissa stares at you, her breath shallow, as if she’s processing your words. And then, after a long, pregnant pause, she slowly smiles, a fragile but relieved smile that somehow feels like a weight has lifted off her shoulders.

“I didn’t think you felt the same,” she murmurs, the tension in her shoulders easing. “I was... so afraid I was too much.”

“You’re never too much for me,” you say, pulling her closer until she’s standing just a breath away. “We’ve both been running from this for too long. Maybe it’s time we stop pretending.”

The room feels suddenly full, charged with the weight of everything unspoken that’s finally coming to the surface. You can see the relief on Melissa’s face as she lets herself believe that this—what you have—is enough.

And for the first time, she steps forward, closing the space between you, and as you lean in, the world seems to disappear. It’s just you and her, and that’s all that matters.

[jvzmine19]

Happy Valentine’s Day!!!

But it slipped out...because it's how I feel. I think it all the time.

[morgana-larkin]

Alright, the highly anticipated part 7 of 'Just Tired'! I have to say that I received so many compliments and comments about this series and I'm so happy that everyone is enjoying it so much! Not edited in the slightest and I hope you like it!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Just Tired - Part 7

Warnings: Manipulative relationship (mentioned), swearing, sex references

Words: 4.3k

“Turn that damn thing off!” Melissa yells at the alarm that’s blasting.

“Melissa, that’s your own alarm.” You say with a yawn and she groans before she turns around and turns off her alarm. She then immediately snuggles back into you and you chuckle. “Melissa, we have to get ready for work.”

“Five more minutes please, being held is nice.” She says and you wrap your arm around her and she hums. 5 minutes go by and you rub her arm.

“It’s been five minutes Melissa.” You say gently while stroking her hair.

“No it hasn’t.” She says and you chuckle.

“I’m afraid it has.” You tell her. “It’s just before 6 and I need to get ready if I’m gonna bike to school.” You say before getting up.

“Why are you biking to school?” She asks and you look at her.

“Yesterday you told me to find my own way to school.” You say as you pick out an outfit.

“I forgot I said that. Can you drive us to work?” She asks as she gets up.

“You trust me with your car?”

“I trust you with it more than I trust myself with it right now.” She tells you as she picks out an outfit to wear from her suitcase.

“Alright, I can drive us then.” You say.

“Perfect, is it alright if I go have a shower?” She asks and you nod.

“Go for it.” You tell her and she goes to the bathroom. 

You take a breath after she leaves the room. You just shared a bed with your crush as she just split up with her manipulated husband and you’ve known her for a week and a half. You really need to get laid if you keep thinking about her and already have a huge crush on her. You both get ready and then you leave before 7 so you can stop and get some donuts that’ll cheer Melissa up. After you pick up the donuts, you drive you both to work as Melissa happily eats the donuts.

“Here.” She says and feeds you a donut as you drive. You take a bite and you smile as you chew it.

“Chocolate.” You say and she looks at you. “My favourite.”

“I might have guessed that with the fact that you have hot chocolate at home.” She tells you with a smile before she continues feeding you the donut and eating a donut for herself.

You both reach the school and you get out and you see Melissa still sitting in the car so you walk to the passenger side and open the door.

“It’ll be alright.” You tell her and hold out a hand for her. She undoes her seatbelt and takes your hand and you help her up.

As soon as you both walk in you’re being dragged by Barb and brought to her classroom, as well as Melissa who has a donut in her mouth. Melissa takes the donut out of her mouth as Barb closes the door.

“What happened yesterday?” She asks Melissa.

“Barb, we had a whole conversation about this on the phone, remember?” Melissa tells her.

“I remember, but how are you doing and how were you last night?” Barb asks her.

“Been better but I have to put it out of my mind and teach some kiddos.” Melissa says.

“Melissa, you should have taken the day off.”

“I’m fine, and it’ll help me keep my mind off of things. So please, stop worrying about me” She says to both of you before leaving the room.

“How was she last night?” Barb asks you.

“Kept asking for physical touch.” You tell her.

“That’s what helps her mind.” Barb says and hums. “Can I ask you a favour?” She asks you and you nod. “She might want to be clingy today, would you mind if she was clingy with you? You just have to tell you’re ok with any kind of physical touch if she needs it.” Barb asks you.

“I don’t mind, I can’t believe what she must be going through but I want to help her.” You tell her and go to leave the room.

“Y/n.” Barb says and you turn around to face her. “Thank you for helping to take care of her, I know Melissa appreciates it and so do I.” She tells you and you nod before leaving the room. You enter the break room and you see Melissa at the coffee machine making a new batch and you walk up to her.

“Hey Melissa.” You say to her and she glances at you before she pours some coffee in her cup. “If you need anything today then I’m here if you need me.” You tell her.

“Y/n.” She says with a sigh and you keep looking at her.

“I’m just looking out for you.” You tell her and Barb walks in and Melissa steps away from the coffee machine.

“I already told you that I’m fine.” She says, loud enough that the whole room hears and turns to look at her. “In fact I’m better than fine, I mean I couldn’t be anymore fine, I mean I’m fine. Did I mention I’m fine?” She asks and you nod.

“Ya, you did a few times.” You tell her.

“That’s because I’m extra fine.” She says before she grabs her things and heads out the door.

“What was that about?” Jacob asks.

“Nothing, and you heard her, she’s fine.” You tell them before you follow her out and you pass by Mr. Johnson on the way out.

“Interesting.” He says as he watches you follow Melissa down the hallway.

“Melissa.” You call her name as you follow her into her classroom and close the door. 

“Y/n, I’m not fine.” She tells you and you walk up to her.

“Do you want a hug?” You ask her and she nods as a few tears slip down her face. You wrap your arms around her and she immediately reciprocates and hugs you back.

“How am I supposed to get through today if I can’t even get through this morning? And morning only started 2 hours ago.” She asks as you pull away from the hug.

“Easy, by looking at your little Eagles, look at those bright little faces of theirs and it’ll put a smile on your face and you know that you don’t want to let them down. Because you’re their teacher and you’ll do anything for them.” You tell her and she looks at you. “Something another teacher taught me last year.” 

“Well, she’s right.” Melissa says and sighs.

“Just have to get through until 3pm and then you can cry or be angry all you want, or even not feel anything, totally up to you.” You tell her and she nods.

“Thank you.” She says and you nod.

“Of course, anything for the ginger goddess.” You tell her and she giggles. 

“Well can this ginger goddess ask one more thing from you?” She asks and you nod.

“Well physical touch helps me as you know, and I was wondering if, well if…”

“Of course.” You say and she looks at you.

“I didn’t finish the question.” She says and you shrug.

“You want to know if you can ask for touches if you need it.” You tell her and she tilts her head at you. “The first part of the question gave the rest away.” You tell her and she chuckles. She then grabs your hand and you look in her eyes.

“Thank you.” She tells you. “Really.” She adds and you nod.

“If I’m being completely honest, I’m enjoying the physical touches after not getting any for, well, about 5 years.” You tell her and she gives you a confused look.

“The last time I got anything was the first day I moved in with my friend and she gave me a welcome hug.” You tell her. “And that was the last time.”

“Well, I guess we’re both getting what we need out of it then.” She says and you nod.

“I guess so.” You tell her and then you hear students arriving and you look at Melissa before you let go of her hand and you see her looking a bit stressed and you get an idea. “You know, seeing as it’s still the first week and our students seem to be friends with each other, we could do a combined class and watch a movie or do a fun art project.” You suggest and she looks at you. 

“I’d love that.” She tells you and you nod before you both walk out of the classroom. You then come back near her and you grab Gracie’s hand who was trying to sneak in Melissa’s class again, before looking at Melissa.

“Your classroom or mine?” You ask her.

“Mine.” She says and you nod.

“Be there after taking attendance then.” You tell her and she nods with a smile before you cross the hall with Gracie who’s complaining. “Let me tell you a secret, Gracie. You’ll actually see your friend again in a few minutes.” You tell her as you enter your classroom.

“Ms. Y/l/n” You hear and you turn around.

“Yes?” You ask and see someone from the front office there. “One of the parents is requesting that their child is transferred to Mrs. Schemmenti’s class.” She tells you and you look at her confused and you see Melissa coming up to you both.

“Which child?” Melissa asks them.

“The student is named Gracie.” She tells you both.

“Well we both know the reason why.” You tell Melissa and she hums.

“Thanks Maia.” Melissa tells the woman and she nods before leaving.

“I’ve been asking for her name since I started and she never gives it.” You tell her.

“They don’t give their names to newbies as they never stay.” She tells you.

“Well I’m staying and I will get my cheek kiss.” You tell her and she shakes her head at you with a smile.

“You’re such a dork.” She says and then walks to her classroom. “See you in a few minutes.” She tells you before entering her classroom. 

You enter your classroom and after you take attendance, you get everyone to grab their chair and bring it across the hall to Melissa’s classroom.

“Ok, Ms. Y/l/n’s class, you can place your chair wherever you wish.” Melissa tells them all and you bring your chair right next to Melissa’s and she smiles at you. “Ok now I want you all to get into groups of 2.” Melissa says and you see all the students talking to each other. “Wanna be in my group?” Melissa asks you and you nod.

“I mean we already shared a bed so why not?” You tell her and she chuckles.

“Who isn’t in a group?” She asks and you just watch her interact with all the students as she talks them through the art project before she gets you to give 5 pieces of blank paper to each group

“So they have to draw 10 animals and write the name of them?” You ask her as everyone gets to work and she nods. “Well your students have a huge advantage as you just taught them animals the other day.” You tell her and she winks at you. “You’re playing dirty Schemmenti.” You tell her and then she starts drawing. “What are you drawing?” You ask her.

“A dog.” She says and you snort.

“I don’t know what kinds of weird ass dogs you’ve seen but that’s not a dog.” You tell her and she flicks your knee and you look at her in shock.

“It doesn’t have to be perfect, and I’m not the best artist, just like you.” She tells you as she continues butchering the picture.

“Oh god, give me that, fottere.” You say as you take the drawing and she looks at you and tries not to laugh.

“Did you just swear in italian?” She asks as you fix the drawing and you nod.

“Yep.”

“And how many swear words do you know in italian?” She asks you and you shrug.

“Enough of them.” You tell her and then show her the improved drawing of the dog.

“And you said you weren’t any good at drawing.” She says. “Compared to mine this is actually good.”

“Melissa, I think any of their drawings of a dog will look better than yours.” You tease her and she looks at you wide eyes and mouth open while trying not to laugh.

“You’re sure bold to be teasing me.” She says as she begins drawing something else and you start drawing a monkey.

“It’s easy to tease you, dolcezza.” You say so naturally and she whips her head at you.

“Are you teasing me with that nickname?” She asks you and you shake your head.

“No, I think you’re sweet so I called you sweet, or at least something close to that as I think dolcezza means more dear or doll.” You tell her.

“Dolcezza is a word that can be used to describe sweet or sweetheart.” She says and you smile at her.

“It’s perfect then.” You tell her and show her the picture of your monkey.

“I like it, cara mia.” She says before showing you her picture of a bird.

“Oh, using nicknames as well?” You ask her and she nods with a smile.

“Ok, Tesoro.” You say and she leans back in her chair, crosses her arms, quirks her eyebrows and has a smirk.

“Are you challenging me to nicknames in italian? Cause if you are then need I remind you that I’m Sicialian?” She says

“You’re also American like me, so maybe I am.” You tell her and she smiles. 

“How about un accordo?” She says and you look at her.

“What kind of agreement?” You ask her.

“Damn, you know italian more than I thought you would.” She says before looking back at you. “Let’s keep talking but every sentence has to have at least one italian word in it, first one that can’t, loses.” She says and you quirk an eyebrow at her before shaking her hand.

“You got yourself an accordo.” You say and she smiles.

10 minutes pass by and Melissa is looking at you with a smirk. You’re weighing your options out before you sigh.

“Alright I fold, you win.” You tell her and she giggles. “You’re the italian queen.” You add.

“Damn right.” She says and then winks at you. “If it makes you feel better, you lasted 10 minutes longer than I thought you would.” She tells you and you look at the time.

“It’s only been 10 minutes.”

“I know.” She tells you with a smirk and she sees you pouting but that makes her laugh. She then shows you the picture of the horse she drew.

“Not bad, so it’s just dogs that you have trouble drawing?” You ask her and she nods.

“You made it really good though. Why are you good at drawing them?”

“I used to draw my dog all the time when I was growing up.” You tell her as you continue you’re drawing.

“You had a dog growing up?” She asks and you nod.

“I did, a golden retriever. My parents got me her as I was a single child and saw that I did a lot of things by myself.”

“You’re lucky that you’re an only child.” She says. “Siblings are annoying.”

“You have a sibling?”

“I have 8 of them.” She says and you widen your eyes.

“8 siblings?” You ask in disbelief and she nods. “Damn, I thought you were gonna say you have like 1 or 2 siblings, not 8.” You say.

“Well most of them might choose to stop talking to me when they hear I’m getting divorced. My Ma might as well, or at least take me out of the Christmas dinner rotation, which is a huge dishonour in my family.” She tells you.

“Your family just casts people out without a thought?” You ask and she nods.

“I already stopped talking to one of my sister’s after Nana died, she brought one of Nana’s dishes to the wake but did it wrong.” She tells you and you tilt your head and give her a weird look.

“Wait, you stopped talking to one of your sister’s because she brought a messed up meal?” You ask her.

“Well not completely, she left my whole family high and dry when Nana got sick. Then showed up to Nana’s wake with a bad dish, that was the nail in the coffin. Metaphorically as Nana was cremated.” She explains to you. “We didn’t have a pet when I was growing up, although my 8 younger siblings were crazy enough that we didn’t need something else causing chaos.”

“You’re more of an enigma than I am, actually you’re a whole level by yourself.” You tell her and she chuckles.

“And this is the panda, which is spelled p-a-n-d-a.” Gracie finishes explaining her and her friend’s animals.

“Good job Gracie and Nancy.” You tell them and they nod before going to sit down. Just then the bell rings and you and Melissa sit up to round up both the classes.

“I’ll be up front, you should be in the back to make sure there’s no troublemakers as there’s 40 kids.” Melissa tells you and you join the kids at the back of the line. 

“Ms. Y/l/n?” One of the students say and you look at him.

“Yes?”

“Why did we have classes with Mrs. Schemmenti’s class?” He asks you.

“For fun. We wanted everyone to get to know other kids in the same grade as them, makes it more fun.” You explain to him.

“But there’s 3 second grade classes.” He says.

“Well we couldn’t fit like 60 students in one classroom.”

“So we’ll have a combined class with Ms. Teagues classroom as well?”

“We’ll have to see.” You tell him and reach the caf.

Melissa makes sure that all the students has a lunch and then she looks over to see you bending down to talk to one of your students before he hugs you and you hug him back. Then you stand back up and make your way over to Melissa before you both walk to the break room.

“What were you talking about with that student?” She asks with a smile.

“He was telling me that he’s glad I’m his teacher this year.” You tell her and she hums.

“The kids already love you and it’s been 2 and a half days? That’s impressive.” She tells you and you smile. “By the way, how old are you?”

“I’m 25.” You tell her and you see her eyes widen.

“Jesus christ, I can’t believe I’m friends with someone who’s 23 years younger than me.” She says and you stop her by walking in front of her.

“Wait, did you just say…friends?” You ask her and it seems like her brain caught up with what she said. “We’re friends?”

“Yes, the teacher who doesn’t make friends with newbies, made friends with one newbie. If you tell the other 2 then I’ll have no problem kicking you out of my life.” She threatens and you smile while nodding.

“Does this mean I can also sit next to you at lunch?”

“We’re not that close.” She says while pushing you out of the way to the door to the break room.

“Melissa, Y/n, did you really do a combined second grade class without me?” Janine asks and Melissa nods. “Why was I excluded?” She complains.

“It’s none of your business short stack.” Melissa tells her.

“But-”

“Janine, just drop it ok.” You tell her as you sit down across from her. She sits back in her seat with a pout and you roll your eyes. “Pouting won’t get you anywhere or puppy dog eyes. I had a dog growing up and I’m now immune to them if a human uses them on me.” You tell her before she sighs.

“It just feels like you’re excluding me even though we’re friends.” Janine tells you

“We are friends but none of this had anything to do with you.” You tell her.

“What does it have to do with then?” Jacob asks.

“It has to do with something that’s none of your business, like Melissa said.” You tell them both and you see Melissa smiling at you. “By the way, Melissa, how’s it going with that dyslexic kid?” You ask her and she looks at you.

“It’s good, I spoke with her and the parents at the end of the day on Monday and they’re happy how we’ll all be helping her.”

“Wait, you and Melissa both have dyslexic kid in your class?” Janine asks you and you shake your head.

“Just Melissa, she got transferred to Melissa’s class. Although that makes 2 kids that Melissa has taken from my class.”

“If you really want then I could have it where Nancy is transferred to your class instead so I can have 20 kids instead of 22.” Melissa tells you. “I mean that’s the only reason that Gracie wants to be in my class is because Nancy is there.” Melissa tells you and you hum.

“I thought you were getting the dyslexic student?” Janine asks you.

“You ask a lot of questions short stack.” Melissa tells Janine.

“It’s not a bad thing to be curious.” Jacob says and Melissa glares at him and he immediately shuts up.

30 minutes later Melissa gets up and she walks out while sending you a text. Once she’s gone you go to her contact and look at the text.

Melissa: Need you

You read and then you look at Barb who nods before you begin packing up your stuff.

“I just remembered I have to photocopy some papers for the next project. I have enough for my class but not enough for Melissa’s.” You tell them and then get up.

“Wait, you’re combining with Melissa’s class for the whole day?” Janine asks and you nod.

“It was only going to be half the day but half of my students are friends with her students. I think they were in grade 1 together. So we thought we’d just do the whole day, have a good afternoon.” You tell them and then leave.

You get to Melissa’s classroom and you see her swinging in her seat. You walk up to her and stop her seat and she looks at you. 

“What’s up?” You ask her as you sit in your seat.

“I was thinking about something that Joe told me a few times, that I was lucky that he wants me because no one else will.” She tells you.

“That’s just a downright lie and you both know it. You are the WHOLE package while the only thing he’s got going on for him is his package, and it’s probably not even that good.” You tell her and she chuckles.

“Can I tell you a secret?” She asks and you nod. “At the beginning, sex was good. But for the past 15 years he never made sure I finished, I’ve been having to satisfy myself after.” She tells you.

“Wow, that’s such a let down for you.” You tell her and she hums. “When I have sex with a girl, I always make sure she finishes however many times she wants.” You say and you miss Melissa’s eyes get darker.

“Well all the girls you’re with are lucky.” She tells you and you look at her. You slip your shoes off and then you put your feet on her chair beside her legs and lightly swing her back and forth. 

“Maybe you could be lucky too.” You tell her and she quirks an eyebrow at you. “Have you ever been with a woman?” You ask her and she shakes her head.

“Only men as it wasn’t an acceptable thing in the 90’s.” She tells you and you hum.

“Do you want to be with women? Because I know the perfect bar we could go to and many women would be dying to have sex with you.” You tell her and you see a blush reach her cheeks.

“Ok, but-but not this weekend as I haven’t even told Joe that we’re over yet. All I did was pack my things and elbow him in the face. Although I did tell him that I didn’t need him anymore.” She says.

“You could tell him right now, over text.” You tell her.

“Isn’t that a shitty thing to do though?”

“It is, if the person hasn’t been a manipulative asshole for 25 years.” You counter.

“I’ll send him a text after school is done. That way I don’t have to teach a class after whatever he sends back to me.” She says and you nod.

“You might have to go back to my place to get your things as you wanted to stay at Barb’s tonight.” You tell her.

“About that, can I stay at your place for one more night? Barb said she’ll set up the extra bedroom for me tonight but asked if I could stay with you again.”

“Of course, you’re always welcome at my place.” You tell her and she smiles at you.

At the end of the day you’re saying goodbye to all of your students and then Melissa comes up to you when they’re all gone.

“Ready to go?” She asks and you nod before you go and grab your things and head out with Melissa.

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta 

@imaginesmultifandoms 

@idonothingalldays-blog 

@sexysapphicshopowner 

@dvrkhcld 

@lilfartbox1

@ricejucie 

@unicorniusfallapatorius

@a-queen-and-her-throne

@sleep-deprived-athlete

@og-kxsh-420

@sasheemo

@midnight-lestrange

@dashbag-art

@morgananyx

@schmentisgf

@cblanchetts

@that-october-night

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@ackleybloodybridge

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@creaturesaphique

Let me know if you want to be added!

[honeysorwell]

all of it (all of you) 

Pairing: Melissa Schemmenti x hairdresser!fem Reader

Synopsis of the story + Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10

Link on AO3

Chapter 2

Tag list: @janeyseymour @italianaidiota @chloeelou02x (and if you want to be tagged too just let me know.)

Warning: there is a line for people who want to kiss Mel's burn hand, and I'm the first in it.

Words: 5,7k

The comments and compliments I received for this work caught me completely unprepared. Guys, thank you all very much for embracing my work with such affection.

Enjoy!

Fifteen people in the last twenty days.

Fifteen people have complimented Melissa's hair in the last twenty days.

In theory, everything was done the same as usual, but by someone else's hands. However, the universe decided to make the redhead feel even more guilty about everything that happened on her last visit to the salon.

First, it was Barb. The older woman touched Melissa's red hair tenderly in the teacher's breakroom, without any apprehension or concern about the second-grade teacher's reaction, and complimented the way it was colored, saying it looked brighter than before.

But it quickly escalated into something more significant.

Ava asked if she did anything differently, and the principal did so while telling a flattering joke asking where her Roger Rabbit was, which even made Barbara laugh softly. Next, it was Janine and Jacob who also complimented her hair, with a shy Gregory by their side who just nodded.

Then more and more parents of students joined the complementary wave of affection towards her. And then Melissa was hearing compliments from Abbott’s new stocker and vending machine operator, a handsome man with hair that was too long for her taste named Julian who now shares the heavy workload of the truck with Gary (causing the bald man with the mustache to blush before he softly agrees with his new co-worker).

Then there are a few random teenagers, grocery store clerks, who stop her to tell her she looks hot, quickly finishing the sentence with a “respectfully” before Melissa even has time to respond to them.

Normally Melissa would love all of this attention, and in another scenario, the compliments would have encouraged her to go out after work on some random Friday night looking for someone brave enough to try something more than a compliment. But this time the Italian woman felt her heart clench and her mind race a thousand miles an hour as she thought about the hairdresser who did that job every time someone complimented her.

So she actively swallows her pride and visits the Riverfront Roots Salon once again. Melissa would truly rather die than apologize or admit she was wrong. She memorized this from her family and she carries this learning throughout her life, but even someone like the redhead needs to admit that nothing can be applied in life without at least one exception.

That's why Melissa makes this visit to the salon on a Tuesday, after the school day is over since the darkness of the night could allow a little more privacy between her and Y/N.

As she parks her car in front of Riverfront Roots, the redhead convinces herself that it doesn't hurt to make sure that only the minimum number of people witness this display of vulnerability coming from a Schimmenti as she watches what seems to be the last customers of the night saying goodbye to the receptionist before leaving.

What will she say?

She has no idea.

But everything goes down the drain when the redhead's idea goes wrong. So when she returns home at night, unable to even talk to the hairdresser to replace the image of discomfort written on Y/N's face from her memory with an apology, Melissa decides to call her confidant and arrange to meet her the following weekend, using the next few days to gather courage and ask for advice from the one who never failed to give her the best of them whenever the teacher needed it.

“Oh, Melissa. How are you, dear? Don't get me wrong, cuz I figured I'd get your call, just not exactly as an invitation for coffee...”, Andrea's voice rings out as Melissa enters her favorite coffee shop, sounding happier than the last time the teacher saw her, and the redhead imagines that this is the result of the free time resting that the Italian woman must now have in abundance thanks to her retirement.

“What? Can't I invite my friend for coffee and ask her how her days are going without the sound of the hairdryer making her deaf?”, her voice sounds playful above all, which makes the answer she receives from Andrea come along with a laugh.

“Of course you can, silly girl!”

And so they talk for several hours, drinking coffee after coffee and hardly caring about how electric their bodies will be after ingesting so much caffeine while sharing pieces of their current lives. At first, it is strange to look at the woman in front of them and not see their own face next to that one, sharing a reflection in the mirror, but it is fine and the two women quickly get used to the new arrangement.

“Of course, you knew I would miss you,” Melissa says with a laugh, chewing gently on one of the best butter cookies she has ever eaten after taking another sip of her particularly hot coffee.

“Oh, I knew that. But, that’s not exactly what turned on the light bulb in my head,” the older woman says with an air of wisdom that only someone who has ever lived in the world enough to know too much can have, and after taking another sip of her coffee, she continued, “You see... Y/N called me a few weeks ago asking for permission to pass on the mix recipe I developed for you to another hairdresser... So, even though she didn't give me any details, I figured something had... happened.”

Melissa felt that the blood under the skin of her face was truly burning with shame.

The redhead thought about swallowing the coffee in her cup in one go, hoping it would burn her tongue with how hot the liquid was, and thus be able to escape from answering what Andrea clearly wanted to know.

She knew she was cornered and had been caught, with no intelligent way to escape. Shame and guilt mixed together, creating a bitter taste in the teacher's mouth even with the memory of the cookie so fresh on her tongue.

But, Melissa's usual response to these situations, loud and ready for a fight, doesn't happen here. Not with Andrea. Never with Andrea.

“What a big mouth... Jezz...”, is how the teacher responds, mumbling as she looks away from her friend in front of her.

“Something tells me yours is too.”

“I just... I was angry, okay?”, for the first time the redhead is honest even in the midst of murmurs, “And she’s different, and she kept talking so I... I freaked out and said what I shouldn’t have.”

Andrea remains silent, just observing the discomfort of the one in front of her with affection and understanding, and it’s this look that makes Melissa continue to speak.

“I know I crossed the line... But she did too!”, the words come out of the teacher’s mouth accusingly before she shares the whole story with Andrea, who smiles and shows surprise at every bit of her student’s encounter with Melissa shared with her, especially with the scissors.

“And what do you want to do now? I even know other hairdressers, but–”

“No! I just... I don't know exactly how I should apologize... Don't get me wrong, I don't want to apologize, but I really know I need to.”, honesty and vulnerability continue their journey between Melissa's mind and tongue as she speaks, “I stopped by her salon but they didn't even let me see her, they just gave me a paper with how many grams of each dye I need for my whole head and sent me away. But since you told me she was your pupil... Well...I thought that maybe...”

“Oh... I see.”, Andrea's voice has the most suggestive tone Melissa has heard in years, and thanks to the look the older woman gives her, full of knowledge, the redhead's cheeks blush.

“Please Andrea, it's not like that.”, the sentence escapes her lips just as her neck also begins to blush, with a speed that would be justified if Melissa were being tortured, trying to prove her innocence of a crime that the teacher definitely did not commit. But maybe she thought about it.

Or if she had enjoyed many generous sips of her coffee, even though she knew how hot it was.

“I didn’t say anything, dear. I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Andrea can sense Melissa’s embarrassment, so she diverts her attention to the bigger picture, even though her knowing smile never leaves her lips, “Look… You know you’re a good cook, and you’ve gotten your fair share of favors that way. Maybe it’s worth trying your luck.”

After that, the subject goes back to where it was before, and the teacher actually tries to focus on Andrea saying that she’ll be spending next summer in Europe, but Melissa’s mind starts working in a completely different way. She silently goes over (in her memory) the most beloved dishes from the cookbook she inherited from her grandmother while listening to Andrea talk about how it would be a pleasure to have Melissa over if she decides to run away from her family for the upcoming holidays. And when they pay the bill for the coffee, Melissa knows what to do.

“And Melissa… Cut off an inch when you get the chance, my dear. It's getting a little.. uneven.”, this is the end of Andrea's farewell to the redhead after a tight hug and a sweet kiss on the forehead, but the words are said in a maternal tone, of genuine care for the teacher that makes Melissa, even without thinking, respond to the older woman with just an affirmative nod and a loving smile.

And, as she doesn't want to think about what happened when someone else suggested the same thing, at least not now, Melissa goes home with only that feeling in her chest.

When the moon took over the sky that night, Melissa was lying under the covers of her bed, staring at the ceiling of her room and completely giving up on falling asleep, while her mind went over and over her conversation with Andrea. The older woman was right, as always.

She could cook something for Y/N.

Cooking has always been her passion since she was little, and that was one of the things that made the redhead and her grandmother even closer. The fact that Melissa was very good at it only helped her cause of being her grandmother's favorite.

Most of the time the redhead cooks as a thank you, rather than an apology, but the change is small. And so, the fact that the idea of ​​cooking to apologize has not left Melissa's mind honestly shocked her.

Most of her guys are just people from all over Philadelphia who work in different places and when they hear about how good her food is, they actively choose to seek her out, willingly offering services (sometimes illicit) that the redhead might be interested in in the long run in order to have the opportunity to taste her seasoning, thus forming an alliance.

It's impossible not to take advantage of this after a few years.

Finding out and memorizing what her most skillful guys' favorite dishes are. Doubling or even tripling the size of recipes that were previously made for only ten people, making her thanks become something shared with more and more potential “guys” (thus increasing the number of guys offering their services to her) so often that the redhead has forgotten how to cook for just two people in the last twenty years.

Cooking is a gift that, unlike her job as a teacher, the redhead didn't have to choose. It was flowing through her veins.

Melissa knows that this is one of the simplest ways to get what she wants. And maybe that's what made her block this possibility until now.

There was a voice inside her head, not the part inflated by her ego for always getting what she wants thanks to how good her food is and how everyone who knows about her talent wants to appreciate it, but the insecure and confused one that whispers in a soft voice that Melissa wants to manipulate Y/N.

And for the first time in a while, she’s not bragging about doing it. In fact, she doesn’t want to do it.

For some reason that Melissa still doesn’t know but keeps scratching her insides, she wants to earn Y/N’s apology, not demand it with her food.

And it doesn’t help that it’s been a long time since Melissa apologized to anyone.

Knowing that she won’t be able to sleep anytime soon and taking advantage of the fact that tomorrow will be Sunday, the second and third-grade teacher gets out of bed and goes to the kitchen, wondering what she should cook.

It’s already the middle of the night, and she has a lot of grading to do for her students’ tests tomorrow, but Melissa knows she won’t be able to concentrate if she doesn’t do that first.

Wrapped in a dark blue robe and hoping that Jacob won’t come to check why she is up so late at night, the teacher carefully opens the refrigerator and checks the ingredients she has and the ones she bought the last time she went to the farmer’s market.

Orange juice... Half a bottle of wine... Milk... Eggs... Fresh mascarpone?

When her eyes focus on the sweet cream-colored cheese, a train of thoughts runs through her head. Melissa knows less than little about her new hairdresser – which is her fault, really – but who doesn't like a sweet treat after a long day of work?

The redhead has dark chocolate in the pantry. Coffee is always a must in a teacher's house. And her cousin gave her a cocoa powder so rich and velvety last Christmas that it could melt in her fingers.

So tiramisu it is.

It was a simple yet sophisticated dessert, full of layers of flavors and textures that the redhead hoped would be enough to convey the care and effort she had put into the dessert. And that would certainly be worth more than a few words, right?

When Melissa goes back to bed, she knows that this is a good idea, and, bathed in this certainty, the redhead can finally see herself falling asleep as she climbs back to bed.

"Perfect," is the word Melissa whispers softly to herself, as she finally gets the thing that was preventing her from sleeping off her chest.

The next morning, the redhead took a quick shower and went downstairs, deciding to organize everything she would need to grade her little eagles' work on the dining room table before taking a deep breath and heading to the kitchen.

She hadn't made homemade Savoiardi in years, always using the ones from the Italian bakery that sold her favorite cannolis. But today was different. Today, cooking would make her put her feelings in order, perhaps even directing her mind to a light that would clear her ideas for what the teacher should say when giving the dessert to Y/N the next morning.

The redhead begins to separate the ingredients she will need to bake the cookies quickly, already deciding that it would be smart to have the necessary ingredients on the kitchen counter even before she finishes making her coffee. Anticipating the company she will have when she hears the sound of lazy footsteps coming from the stairs, Melissa fills one more cup than she would if she were alone with the dark liquid and begins to grab her frying pan to put it in the stove and prepare what she's going to eat.

"Good morning Mel-Mel!", Jacob sounds as he enters the kitchen, hoarse and sleepy, leaning softly against the kitchen counter and observing the ingredients that are displayed there.

"Morning Jacob. There's coffee ready.", Melissa answers softly, pointing to the coffee cup next to hers, still full and steaming, waiting for the younger teacher.

"Thank you.", the smile Jacob gives her is initially full of gratitude, but quickly turns to curiosity when he continues, "Oh... what are you cooking?"

The teacher isn't sure what exactly this question refers to, but considering how curiously he was looking at her ingredients just a minute ago, Melissa gives Jacob two simple answers.

"Eggs, and then baking."

"That's cool. Let me finish this, you already made me coffee.", Jacob says as he gently takes the spoon from the redhead's hand, then grabs four eggs from the fridge and takes her place in front of the stove.

After he moved in with Melissa and this new and sweet idea of ​​friendship was born between the two teachers, what had previously been just a few cooking lessons here and there turned into an intensive course. But the younger teacher loved every second of it. Jacob learned so much about everyday food living with the redhead and even managed to succeed at it, making moments like that more and more natural in the Italian woman's kitchen.

Taking advantage of the softness of her replacement in front of the stove, the redhead begins to gently check if everything she needs to bake is there until Jacob's voice sounds again.

"Did you know that astronauts can bake bread in some space stations?", the man says the words with childish excitement, but still with his eyes attentive to the eggs he is stirring gently on the stove, exactly as the redhead instructed him weeks ago, "Wouldn't it be nice to eat warm bread while you watch the earth from afar?"

"First, I'm not baking bread. But yes, it does sound good to them, kid.” Melissa’s response is simple and sweet, not irritated like she usually would be when she hears silly things like that at work.

They ate breakfast in comfortable silence. Melissa knew Jacob was going on a date that Sunday, so from the moment she woke up to the moment she heard Jacob singing in the upstairs shower before he began to get properly dressed for the lunch he would share with Avi, the paramedic at the local Philadelphia fire station, everything was going according to the plan the teacher had until she started baking.

Melissa tried to focus on the methodical rhythm of her task. Crack the egg, pour the white into a jar, pour the yolks into the mixer bowl, and repeat. But her mind insisted on going back to what she had done a few weeks ago. The words she had said to Y/N were sharp and thoughtless, but what weighed on her like a stone in her stomach was the change in the hairdresser’s expression. "She may have already forgotten...", Melissa muttered to herself, trying to calm her mind. But she knew it wasn't true.

She knew Janine didn't mean to say that she was a bad teacher when Courtney was transferred to her class, not really. It was just the younger teacher's ego and naivety, both screaming and destroying Janine's judgment for having been actively chosen.

But Melissa also couldn't deny that her mouth turned bitter the moment she heard her colleague's words, even if they were whispered.

She would never say it out loud, not even to Barb, but that first night, after hearing that unexpected insult, the younger teacher's words remained too vivid in the redhead's mind when the lights in her room went out and she had to go to sleep.

Maybe I'm not a bad teacher. Maybe you are.

She really didn't deserve that.

The memory flashed through Melissa's brain so quickly that the teacher even lost her rhythm as she added more ingredients to her mixture, but she recovered enough to start beating the egg whites. However, the continuous noise of the mixer only made her remember how much she had thought about it, lying in her bed watching the sun rise through her window when she woke up before her alarm clock.

A bad teacher.

Sighing, Melissa thinks about how much it took for her to understand what was going on in the mind of the younger teacher back then, and then turns off the mixer and begins to mix its contents with the few that were missing.

As she spread the molds she would need on top of her table and, with the experience and speed of a chef, the redhead put the freshly mixed dough she had in her hands in a pastry bag and continued without even blinking as she remembered that little clash in Abbott.

When Janine got upset about being described as an inexperienced teacher in the teachers break room, the redhead hadn't even blink, and that was why she started teasing the younger woman.

Because, to the redhead, it was obvious that she was a more experienced teacher.

If Melissa, a teacher with over twenty years of experience, wasn't more experienced than a teacher with only three, then Melissa was doing something very wrong not only with her life but also with the lives of the children she taught. The fact that the two woman had different times to prepare and perfect themselves to where they were now, both in the same place (teaching Abbott Elementary as second-grade teachers at the same time), had nothing to do with Janine's qualities as a teacher.

Eventually, she managed to explain this to the younger teacher.

"Thank God.", was the muttered thought that Melissa let slip between her lips as she put her Savoiardi in the oven after sprinkling them with her mixture of sugar and cornstarch, automatically starting the timer.

Melissa forgave Janine because she knew she didn't mean it with all her heart. The younger teacher was foolish but not cruel. She couldn't be cruel even if she tried.

Melissa knew. But Melissa knew this because she knew Janine.

The problem was that... Y/N didn't know Melissa.

So what the hell was she going to do if the hairdresser didn't accept her apology?

And so it was over. Her mind was just taking away the possibility of a peaceful morning for Melissa. Because not even her grandmother's collection of favorite Italian songs would be fair competition for what was starting to form in the redhead's mind.

The redhead isn't someone who has a problem with someone she barely knows not liking her. Melissa sometimes even triumphs over this idea of ​​being disliked by people close to her, so someone she doesn't know should simply mean nothing.

When Uncle Archie says she's his least favorite in the family, it doesn't mean anything. It's an honor, really, and the words of her mother's brother would never keep her awake at night. And he is family.

Now among people she knows, Schimmenti loves the idea of ​​being seen as unreachable, distant and unsociable. But there is something about that hairdresser...

With a huff, Melissa simply grabbed a cloth within her reach and began to clean the counter of her sink, ignoring the insistent sound of the timer that finally went off, still lost in all these thoughts.

Maybe it's because the hairdresser really didn't deserve those words... Maybe it's because the poor woman was just doing her job... Maybe it's because the hairdresser is connected to Andrea... Or maybe...

When the smell of sugar began to intensify, Melissa finally realized that the time had passed. With a start, the redhead opened the oven, letting out a wave of heat so intense that it made her eyes water. The teacher hurriedly pulled one of the baking sheets out of the oven, her bare fingers touching the hot metal before she realized her mistake.

"FUCK!" she groaned loudly, backing away quickly, knocking the tray onto the counter. One of the cookies fell to the floor with a dry, crunchy sound, while her instinct forced her to hold her hand against her chest, her eyes watering.

The burning heat pinked up her palm like an immediate punishment, and defeated Melissa finally turned on the kitchen faucet, placing her red hand there.

"MELISSA??" Jacob's shrill voice sounded faster than she imagined. And more desperate too.

For a moment, the older teacher stood there, staring at the cookie on the floor and feeling the buzzing in her throbbing skin as she felt the flow of water. The pain was real, but it served only as a reflection of something greater: guilt.

“I’M FINE, JACOB!” the redhead yells back at her roommate, even though she knows that from the sounds she hears upstairs, he must be desperately putting on the first piece of clothing he can find and then coming to check on her.

By the time he appears in the kitchen, as out of breath as Janine had been running around in her early years as a teacher, the pain has already subsided. But the younger teacher doesn’t care about that, or the fact that Melissa honestly tells him that she used to get burned all the time when she was younger and that heat tolerance is in every Italian woman’s blood, as he gently rubs some burn ointment from his personal first aid kit onto her burned fingertips.

After repeating what she imagines to be a thousand times that she is fine and perfectly capable of being alone, Jacob finally leaves her alone and goes on his date, giving Melissa the space she needs to sit at the kitchen table. She doesn't want to sound insane, but the savoiardi, perfectly shaped but with some slightly over-brown, seemed to judge her silently.

With a fork and using her non-dominant hand, Melissa tried to transfer all the cookies she baked to a covered container as soon as they cooled and went to her living room.

Finishing the corrections of her students' tests with her non-dominant hand takes longer than she imagines, taking up most of her morning and afternoon. But at least she is back in the kitchen when Jacob returns from his meeting, with flushed cheeks, swollen lips, a sweet smile and lost eyes as he asks her if her fingers still hurt.

She softly denies it, with a smile on her face and thankful for Jacob's concern written in his eyes. He understands even the words she doesn't say, and she is also thankful for that as she grates some of the dark chocolate she will need to finish her recipe the next day and puts it in a covered container.

On Monday morning, Melissa gets up ready early.

If asked, she would say that she set her alarm to wake her an hour and a half earlier, but the reality is that her nerves did the job without the help of technology.

Calmly, Melissa took the mascarpone from her refrigerator and began to make the cream that would bring the entire recipe to life. She beats the egg whites with the egg yolk, and uses the mixer to first mix the sugar, then the mascarpone and finally the carefully beaten egg whites.

When everything was ready, the redhead took a deep breath and, next to the precious dish she had chosen, arranged on her counter the Savoiardi cookies made the day before, the grated chocolate, the mascarpone cream and began to assemble the dessert. She dipped the cookies in a little room temperature coffee, one by one, taking care to make sure they were just the right amount of wet so that she could arrange them on the bottom of that precious glass dish, creating an even base and trying to ignore how much she wished the hairdresser could see the care she put into it.

When Jacob finally came downstairs, she was already spreading the fourth layer of the mascarpone cream, smoothing it with a spatula to ensure that each part of the dessert was perfect. When she finished, the redhead noticed that it was exactly ten minutes before the time she and the younger teacher left the house every day, so the redhead took her time sprinkling cocoa powder on top delicately, as if she were drawing an invisible message to Y/N.

Forgive me. I'm sorry.

Melissa wasn't sure.

But what she knows for sure is that Jacob is practically melting with curiosity in his passenger seat as he holds the dessert in his lap.

The Italian woman wanted to rest the tray on her back seat, as she always does when she needs to take something important to school. But he asks so genuinely to carry it that Melissa doesn't have the heart to tell him to take the bus that day. Especially after his ointment worked wonders by almost completely healing the burn on her hand.

At least not inside the car, since she takes the tray from the younger teacher's hand and is the one responsible for putting it in the refrigerator in the teacher's break room.

"Oh. This is a...”, Janine's voice is uncertain as she inspects the tray that prevents her from storing her sandwich on the common refrigerator shelf, already stretching her fingers to get a better look at what it was.

“It's mine. Do you have a problem with it?”, Melissa says rudely just so that there are no additional questions, but, as usual, Janine doesn't get the hint.

“That's beautiful. But can I—”, Janine starts again only to be interrupted.

“It's not yours. So don't touch it.”

After that, a heavy silence takes over the break room for a few moments.

“She spent the whole day yesterday making it... and she even got burned and then she was putting it together this morning.”, the youngest man in the room mumbles to his friend, not as quietly as he imagines he did since everyone in the room hears Jacob's words even with the news on the television.

“Did she give you a piece?” Janine mumbles back to Jacob, now curious. He shakes his head at the younger woman, purposely leaving out the fact that Melissa left a fair amount of the cream she used for that tiramisu in a small bowl, next to some of the homemade cookies just for him this morning. And that’s why Jacob gets a slap on the arm from the redhead along with an irritated look as he passes her on his way to the coffee maker to refill the dark liquid in his cup. Finally, intrigued by the younger man’s groan of pain, Barbara looks at the refrigerator that Janine still has open, trying unsuccessfully to put her lunch inside, and sees the reason for everyone’s commotion. A big tiramisu. But she also sees something that no one else does.

Something that cannot be questioned is that, out of everyone there, Barbara knows Melissa like no one else and is able to figure her out without even trying. And, with a small look at the glass dish in question, she had already figured her friend out.

That was one of a set of five glass dishes that Barbara Howard had heard about and only seen from a distance. Before her third year of marriage, the redhead's ex-mother-in-law, who was battling lung cancer although she still refused to give up smoking, distributed her most precious possessions to her family. And among them was that set that had been desired by all the women in Joe's family for many years.

As expected, four of the dishes were divided among Mary Alice's four daughters, but, surprising the redhead in a way she never imagined possible, Melissa was given the last one of the set, much to the despair of Joe's older brother's wife. Melissa's ex-husband's mother told the teacher that her talent for cooking would give a better destination for the last piece, unlike the idiotic fight that the sisters would probably start over the unequal number of the set.

Even after the divorce, the heartwarming gift was never claimed by Joe.

So Barbara knew that the tiramisu in question, taking up a huge space in the refrigerator of the teachers' break room on the first floor of Abbott Elementary, was not like any other.

"Girlfriend?" Barbara says softly to get the redhead's attention, speaking again only when Melissa's green eyes are looking directly into her dark ones, "Don't get involved in anything dangerous, please."

"I won't..." Melissa's voice no longer has the bite it had when she spoke to the other teachers, "I swear! It's just... an apology."

"For Joe?", the first-grade teacher knows she might be pushing, but she can't help but ask.

"No!", it's almost a scream, the redhead's tone of voice sounds scared and indignant, but it calms the teacher next to her.

And that, for now, is enough.

At the end of the day, with the tiramisu neatly packed and in her passenger seat, Melissa got into her car and drove to the salon where Y/N worked. The teacher's heart was beating fast as she parked and walked to the entrance, holding the dessert tightly even though her hands were sweaty. As she entered, the sound of scissors and the buzz of conversation seemed to fade in her mind. Her eyes searched for Y/N, who was distracted by a client and she didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

The last time she tried to talk to the hairdresser, Melissa gave her name right at the entrance and the receptionist automatically started searching through her notes for the note addressed to her, but now the redhead knew better.

"My name is not important. Just say that someone really wants to talk to her."

"Y/N!" the receptionist shouts the hairdresser's name loudly, using her vocal cords without any remorse, "There's a redhead who wants to talk to you."

“Is she hot?”, the sound of Y/N’s voice rings out from a distance to Melissa amidst a laugh, at the same time that her rhythmic footsteps echo on the floor of the salon, as if the hairdresser wasn’t exactly running, but in a kind of hurry and curiosity to know what was waiting for her at the reception.

When the Brazilian woman turns the glass corridor and finally appears in front of the redhead, with a soft smile on her face, Melissa can’t help but think that Y/N is even more beautiful than the first time she saw her.

But that smile doesn’t last long because, the moment the hairdresser’s eyes meet Melissa’s green ones, Y/N’s soft face turns into a frown as she asks harshly:

“Oh. You. What do you want?”

[jeridandridge]

Melissa Schemmenti x reader valentines media post 🩷

[vfernarts]

actual real footage of melissa missing sweet cheeks in the latest episode

[schemmentigfs]

Sweetening The Deal. (part 12.)

Summary: the future might be uncertain but Melissa Schemmenti knows that she will be fine by your side.

Warnings: mentions of miscarriage, sex references, body images & family neglect?

WC: 7.48k.

tags: @lifeismomentsyoucannotunderstand @lisaannwaltersbra @italianaidiota @kukikatt @dopenightmaretyphoon @schmentisgf @pitstopsapphic @jeridandridge @aliensuperst4rr

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7. Part 8. Part 9. Part 10. Part 11.

i know I said that this was the final chapter, but tomorrow is my b-day and i wanted to celebrate by posting something special. So more sweetening the deal coming soon hehe. 🤍

The white sheets are tangled, clinging to fevered figures, a testament to the slow-burning pleasure that still lingers in the bedroom like the scent of candle wax after the flame has been snuffed out. Somewhere between the haze of bliss and the weight of exhaustion, a hand moves, unhurried. Tracing the outline of a familiar shape. Fingers, roughened by time and habit, drag across soft flesh, pressing into the warmth of another body as if memorizing it, as if mapping the dips and curves like a cartographer tracing the edges of a long-lost land.

The touch is possessive but still reverent, a contradiction wrapped in each absentminded stroke. A thumb ghosts over the ridge of a hip bone, then up, tracing lazy circles into the plane of a stomach that rises and falls in a steady rhythm. A palm, broad and sure, flattens against bare skin, absorbing heat like sunbaked stone after dusk. There is no urgency now, no hunger, it is the kind of touch that lingers in the afterglow, an unspoken claim that needs no words.

Just the raw connection of two souls together.

Knuckles drag upward, slow as honey dripping from the edge of a spoon, pausing when they reach the valley between ribs, the gentle space where breath hums just beneath the surface. A sigh, barely there, escapes into the quiet. The fingers flex, then loosen again, curling as they ghost along the curve of a waist before retreating, settling in the hollow of an arm that welcomes them like a tide pulling the shore back into its embrace.

And then, as the weight shifts, a voice rough around the edges, still tasting of pleasure, breaks the silence.

“Did I wear you out, babygirl? Sorry, I couldn't help myself, you were so…fuck.”

The tone is low, featured with satisfaction despite the clear apology, curling into the tight space between you like smoke. It’s the kind of comforting voice that lingers, that seeps into the skin the way warmth does after a sun-drenched afternoon.

You don’t answer right away. Instead, you let the camera in your hands do the talking.

The lens is small, compact, fitting snugly between your fingers as you angle it toward her. The yellow glow of the lamp casts golden hues across her skin, highlighting the mess of red waves sprawled against the pillows. She looks undone in the best way— green eyes half-lidded, plump lips swollen from where they’ve ghosted over yours too many times to count. There’s something lazy in the way she watches you, something indulgent, like she’s letting you have your fun because she enjoys the attention.

Melissa Schemmenti doesn’t ask for a spotlight, but damn if she doesn’t belong in one.

You lift the camera slightly, framing her with the precision of someone who knows this subject all too well. The freckles dusting her shoulders. The sharp cut of her jaw softened by the remnants of pleasure. The way her chest still moves with the rhythm of spent adrenaline.

Her redbrows lift, a flicker of amusement sparking in her orbs. “What, you takin’ pictures of me now, brat?”

You hum, the lens whirring softly as it focuses. “Always.”

She breathes through her nose, shaking her head like she’s exasperated, but the ghost of a smirk betrays her. She shifts slightly, the hand that had been resting against your skin now reaching for the bedsheet, tugging it up just enough to shield herself from view.

“Gonna sell these to the tabloids?” your girlfriend teases, holding back a yawn. “’Scandal: Young Woman Ruins Sugar Mommy’s Reputation with Risqué Bedroom Photos.’”

You laugh, thumb brushing over the camera’s shutter button but not pressing it—just watching, just soaking her in. “Ruins? I think they’d call it an upgrade.”

The redheaded woman scoffs, but you see the way her mouth twitches, the way she tips her head back slightly, exposing the long line of her throat like an offering. The same throat you had kissed, bitten, worshiped not so long ago. You could still hear those little whines and whimpers.

And then, quieter, like she’s letting herself be soft just for you. “That what I am to you? Just some scandal?”

Your heart clenches, but not in a bad way. In the way it always does when Melissa Schemmenti lets her guard down, when she peels back the layers of sharp humor and lets you see what’s underneath.

You lower the camera.

“No, baby,” you murmur, reaching out, fingertips grazing the back of her hand. “You’re my favorite thing to look at.”

She doesn’t say anything, but the way she squeezes your hand tells you enough.

Melissa lets the silence stretch between you, her hand still curled loosely around yours. Her eyes flick downward, and for a moment, she just looks.

The sheets barely cling to either of you, draped in careless folds, revealing more than they conceal. The glow of the bedside lamp casts long shadows, accentuating the dips and curves of your bodies, the faint sheen of sweat still clinging to your skin. Her gaze lingers over the softness of your stomach, the marks she’s left behind on your collarbone, the way your chest rises and falls with each quiet breath.

She shifts slightly, propping herself up on one elbow, the movement making the sheet slip lower on her own body. You watch as she drags her fingers across her own skin absentmindedly, tracing the outline of an old scar on her hip, then following the faint indent where your thigh had pressed into hers not long ago.

For someone who usually carries herself with a guarded confidence, there’s something unguarded about her now—something raw, like she’s allowing herself to be vulnerable in a way she rarely does.

The older woman whistles, eyes meeting yours again, something unreadable flickering there before she speaks.

“Y’know…” her voice is quieter now, like she’s speaking more to herself than to you. “Sometimes I forget how small you are.”

You arch a brow, shifting onto your side to face her. “Small?”

A smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Compared to me,” she murmurs, her fingers reaching out to brush over your hip, her thumb dragging lazily across the skin. “But then I see you like this, and it’s like… I dunno.” Her eyes flicker over you again, something thoughtful in them. “I remember just how much space you take up.”

You swallow, watching her. “That a bad thing?”

Her hand stills for a second, then presses a little more firmly against you.

“Nah,” she says, rough but certain. “It’s the best fuckin’ thing.”

And then, like she’s said too much, she shifts onto her back again, exhaling toward the ceiling. Her fingers find yours under the sheets, twining them loosely, grounding herself in the quiet.

Neither of you speak for a long moment. Just the sound of breathing, the warmth between you, the weight of something unspoken settling in the air.

Breaking the silence, you lift the camera, framing her in the viewfinder, and grin to yourself. “You look like a painting, you know that?” The words slip out lazily, affectionate, half-mumbled as you lean in, pressing a lingering kiss to her naked arm. Your lips brush over the warmth of her freckled skin, and for a second, you just breathe her in.

Melissa hums pleasantly.

You adjust the camera again, fingers tightening around it, preparing for another shot. But then, the redheaded woman shifts suddenly, rolling onto you with a fluidity that makes you gasp, the weight of her pressing you deeper into the mattress. The warmth of her skin, the scent of her still clinging to the sheets, the way her hair falls over both of you like a veil—it steals the breath right from your lungs.

“Whoa,” you squeal. “Love, what are you doing?”

“Shhh, pretty girl. Shh,” the redhead simply hushes you. “Just feel me. Us.”

Your grip on the camera falters. It slips from your fingers, tumbling onto the bed with a soft thud, but you barely notice because her lips are on yours. Slow, unrushed, savoring. She kisses like she has all the time in the world, like she’s trying to drink you in, one lingering brush of lips at a time.

And then she pulls back just enough to laugh against your mouth, her nose nudging yours in a teasing little rub, her breath still tasting of sleep and you.

“Fucker,” you murmur, grinning against her lips.

She smirks, shifting her weight off you, rolling onto her back with a satisfied sigh. Stretching her arms above her head, she tilts her chin up, letting the golden light catch the freckles dusted across her collarbones. “We should go out,” she muses. “The sun’s out. Feels like a waste lyin’ around all day.”

You hum in protest, not moving, just watching her. She glances at you from the corner of her eye, amused, before exhaling and pulling herself up.

“Don’t go for too long,” you sigh quietly. “I can’t stay away from you for more than one second.”

“I won’t, baby,” she promises you.

And just like a blink of an eye, Melissa Schemmenti disappears into the bathroom, the door creaking slightly as she nudges it closed.

The mirror is fogged at the edges from the quick shower she took, but the reflection staring back at her is painfully clear. She steps closer, bare feet cool against the tile, hands bracing against the sink as she lets her gaze drift downward.

Her stomach softens as she exhales, the gentle curve of it folding slightly as she leans forward. Her fingers twitch before they reach out, hesitantly grazing the loose skin just above her navel, the place where time and life and age have left their mark. She presses, feeling the give beneath her fingertips, the way it doesn’t snap back like it used to.

Olive eyes flicker upward, meeting her own in the mirror.

She trails her hand higher, over the faint stretch marks curving along the sides of her breasts, over the skin that isn’t quite as smooth as it once was. She cups one gently, thumb brushing over the slight indentations, over the places where her body has changed in ways she never asked for, in ways she’s spent years pretending not to notice.

She hears his voice in her head before she can stop it.

Jesus, Melissa, you gonna do something about that?

No wonder you always keep the lights off during sex. How am I supposed to fuck someone disgusting like you?

What the hell happened to you?

Her throat tightens, a sharp inhale cutting through the silence. The woman presses her palms flat against the counter, trying to steady herself, but the weight of those words clings to her ribs, squeezing like a vice.

She blinks rapidly, but the sting behind her eyes doesn’t go away.

So she does what she always does. She breathes through it. She squares her shoulders. She tells herself it doesn’t matter.

But when the first tear slips down her cheek, she doesn’t wipe it away.

The tear falls slowly, a delicate trail carving a path down her cheek, and as it disappears, another one follows, unbidden, as if it knows there is something buried deeper, something that has yet to be acknowledged.

Melissa’s gaze lingers on her reflection, but it starts to blur, the edges softening as memories creep in, unwanted but insistent.

That night. The one she’s never spoken of. Not to Teresa, not to Barbara, not even Pearl.

Her fingers tremble against the cold porcelain of the sink as the memory unfurls like a silent, violent wave—distant but never truly gone. The silence of their house after everything, when the world outside felt like it was holding its breath. She remembers the weight in her stomach, the odd heaviness that made her think something was different, something had changed inside her. The nausea had been subtle at first, a persistent reminder of something new taking root.

But she never told Joe.

She remembers the heat of the shower that night, the water falling in streams down her back, warm against her skin. She remembers how she had pressed a hand to her belly, feeling the way her body was shifting, making space for something she hadn’t yet fully processed. She never told him about the quiet moments when she had caught herself dreaming of the future—a small, fragile future, but hers nonetheless.

The cramp came suddenly, sharp, ripping through her like lightning. She had stumbled, hand bracing against the cold tile wall for support, her chest tightening with something that felt like panic, but she had told herself it was nothing. It was nothing.

But it wasn’t.

Melissa had bled. More than she had expected, more than she had imagined. Until her legs had given out, and she had collapsed onto the bathroom floor screaming. The pain had been unbearable, but it wasn’t just the physical ache. It was the weight of the secret she hadn’t shared with him, the secret that now felt like a betrayal.

She never told him. She couldn’t. Not then, not after everything else. She couldn’t bear to see the pity in his eyes, couldn’t bear to be reminded of how badly they had drifted apart, how he had already begun to turn away from her before she ever had the chance to speak.

He never knew she was pregnant.

The thought twists in her chest, sharp like glass. She presses her hands to her soft stomach, but the ache isn’t physical anymore. It’s deeper, something hollow and bruised, something she’s tried to fill with years of anger and sarcasm and distractions.

Another tear falls, and this time, she doesn’t try to stop it. She lets it run freely, mingling with the others, collecting at the curve of her jaw before dripping onto her bare chest.

She had never mourned it. Not properly. Not with anyone.

Melissa Schemmenti had always been too strong to break, or at least, that’s what she had told herself. But right now, in the silence of the bathroom, with nothing but the hum of the fan overhead and the soft sobs that she couldn’t hold in anymore, it feels like she’s been breaking for years and no one had ever seen it.

She doesn’t know how long she stands there, just holding herself, just letting the quiet grief wash over her. The memory of that night lingers in the corners of her mind, an echo of something lost, and for the first time, she allows herself to grieve it. To grieve what could have been.

And as the sobs quiet down, she stares at her reflection once more, the tears still streaking her face, and whispers, barely audible. “I’m sorry.”

But there’s no one there to hear it.

The quiet hum of the fan in the bathroom feels almost deafening now, the sound mixing with the faint rhythm of her own breath. Her tears have slowed, leaving her face flushed and her okigg eyes swollen from the weight of them. But even in the emptiness of the bathroom, there’s still something pulling her—something far gentler than the anger or pain that has been her constant companion for so long.

The forty-five year old exhales a shaky breath and wipes the remnants of her tears from her cheeks, swiping at her face with the back of her hand.

As her gaze drifts back to her reflection, something soft flickers in her chest, the pull of it undeniable. Her.

The thought of you comes to her like a warm, steady breath, an anchor in the chaotic tide of emotions.

Melissa had never expected this. To feel seen. To feel wanted. But you had given that to her in ways she never could have imagined, soft words and touches that never felt too much, never felt like a demand. You had accepted her, scars and all, with no questions, no judgments.

She can’t help but smile faintly at the memory of your laughter, the way your eyes light up whenever you look at her, even when she feels unworthy of it.

Then she hears it.

A soft, affectionate call, carrying through the thin walls of the bathroom, wrapping around her like a comforting embrace.

“Lissa…”

Her name, spoken with such tenderness, carries a weight of its own. It’s the way you always say it—like it’s a secret shared between the two of you, a word that holds so much more than just her name.

She closes her eyes for a moment, feeling the heat of your affection reach her, even from across the room.

And in that moment, she knows. She knows that this—you—is the part of her life she has been waiting for, the part she never thought she deserved, but you had given her anyway. You had pulled her from the ruins of her past, shown her the parts of herself she had locked away for so long, and wrapped her in a love she didn’t know how to accept, but that she was learning to embrace.

Your girlfriend takes a deep breath, steadying herself, and runs her fingers through her damp hair, wiping away the last remnants of her tears.

“Yeah, baby?” she calls back, her voice softer than before, more open, more vulnerable than she’s let herself be in a long time.

“Can you please come here?” you respond again, and she can hear the affection laced in every syllable. It’s the kind of sound that feels like a promise, like you’ve carved a space for her in your world, a space that’s hers and hers alone.

The moment the bathroom door creaks open, Melissa’s attention snaps toward the soft rustle of fabric. She doesn’t immediately register the quiet sigh that follows, but then she sees you—standing just outside the doorway, eyes wide and focused on something in your hands. Your brow furrows, the slight frustration evident as you tug at the straps of your bra, trying to adjust it, but it’s clear the task is not going as smoothly as you’d hoped.

Her heart catches in her chest, the vulnerability of the moment not lost on her. You’re struggling with something so simple, so small, and yet, there’s something endearing about it. She watches the way your hands move, your fingers trembling slightly as you try again, biting your lip in concentration.

The green eyed woman doesn’t know why it affects her so deeply—maybe it’s the way you seem so effortlessly beautiful even in these small moments, or maybe it’s the way your actions feel like a reflection of the trust you’ve placed in her. Either way, her chest tightens, and she steps forward without thinking, her own emotions still raw but now focused entirely on you.

“Need some help?” her voice is softer than before, carrying a gentle edge of care as she comes closer.

You don’t say anything right away, but the way your eyes flick up to meet hers, hesitant, makes her heart ache. It’s like you’re not used to asking for help, like you’re trying to handle everything on your own.

With a soft giggle, she reaches out, her fingers brushing against yours as she takes the bra from your hands, a quiet tenderness in her touch.

“Let me,” your sweet girlfriend murmurs, guiding your hands away.

Her movements are careful, unhurried as she helps you, the way she slides the straps over your shoulders with a quiet gentleness making your breath catch in your throat. There’s nothing rushed about it, no haste, no pressure. Just the simple act of caring for you, in a way that makes you feel safe.

As she fastens the hooks at the back, she brushes a kiss against your shoulder. The simple act makes you feel seen, cared for, like she’s truly with you, in this moment, in every imperfect, messy part of it.

“Better?” she asks, her breath warm against your ear, and when you nod, a smile breaks across her face. It’s small, but it reaches her eyes—eyes that are soft, full of something deeper than just affection. It’s understanding.

“Mmm,” you nodded, feeling a bit shy, but Melissa can hear the gratitude in it, the quiet relief that you never have to do this alone again.

“Good. Now if you don’t mind, m’ gonna relax for a bit.”

The Schemmenti hernines moves toward the couch with a severe slowness, her body still warm from the previous activities. The air in the bedroom cool against her bare form. She doesn’t rush; there’s a languid grace to her movements, like the world could wait for her. She settles into the cushions, the softness beneath her figure almost making her feel like she could disappear into the fabric, into the quiet hum of the room. She leans back, a cigarette between her fingers, the tip glowing softly as she inhales deeply, the smoke swirling around her like a ghost of something forgotten.

Her body, fully exposed to the space around her, seems so effortlessly at ease, as though vulnerability has become a part of her that she’s finally learned to wear without shame.

You watch her for a moment, your gaze tracing the curve of her shoulders, the line of her spine as Melissa leans back, cigarette smoke rising around her like a halo. The way the light falls across her skin, casting shadows in all the right places. It’s art in its purest form. You feel a sudden rush of emotion, a deep need to capture her, to freeze this moment before it slips away into something more ordinary.

“Mel,” you start, a softness to your voice that makes her eyes flicker toward you, her gaze meeting yours with an unspoken curiosity.

She raises an eyebrow, plump lips curling around the cigarette. “What now?”

“Can I… Can I photograph you?”

The question hangs in the air for a moment, delicate, tentative. She blinks slowly, the smoke curling around her like an answer. There’s a flicker of hesitation in her eyes, something fleeting and vulnerable before it’s replaced by acceptance.

“Uh. Sure,” she says quietly, the word slipping out with a surprising tenderness.

You move carefully, as though approaching something sacred, your camera warm in your hands, the tool to capture what she offers. Your fingers tremble slightly as you raise it to your eye, framing her figure. Melissa sits still, almost too still, as if she’s unsure of what to do with the sudden attention.

You guide her gently, urging her with soft words, coaxing her into small shifts of movement. “Look to the side,” you plea, and she does, her gaze unfocusing, distant, lost in the quiet of the room. The light catches the curve of her chest, the softness of her stomach, the way her skin seems to glow even in its imperfections. She is both fierce and delicate, all at once.

“Just like that, sweet girl,” you praise. “So good.”

She blushes.

You capture the moment, the slow exhale of breath, the way her skin seems to shimmer in the soft light. Every click of the shutter feels like a step deeper into her, into the vulnerability she offers so freely, so openly now.

You direct her again, this time guiding her to lift her arm, the motion slow and languid as she reaches toward the back of the couch, her body arching just slightly, the tension in her muscles visible but beautiful. Her skin stretches, soft folds and gentle curves that you want to hold in your hands, to memorize.

“Turn your head more?” you ask, and she does, her hair falling just so, the strands catching the light like liquid gold.

The next shot is a closer one, the camera resting on the curve of her waist, the delicate line of her ribs, the way the light dances across the freckles on her shoulder. The smoke from her cigarette twirls in the air, swirling with the softness of the moment, making everything feel dreamlike, as if the world around you has paused, holding its breath.

You focus on the details now. The way the ash of the cigarette trembles at the tip, ready to fall. The curve of her lips, barely upturned in a smile. The way she shifts slightly, a subtle movement that makes her seem so alive, so human.

Each shot, each click of the shutter, feels like you’re preserving a memory. Not just her body, but the essence of her—raw, unapologetic, and yet so effortlessly tender in this space between you.

You take a step back, looking at her through the lens one final time, capturing the image in your mind even before the photograph is developed.

Melissa Ann Catarina Schemmenti is art in its truest form.

Flawed. Naked. Unafraid.

You sigh quietly, gazing at the picture. “Holy shit. Babe, you are so beautiful.”

Melissa barely has time to react before you’re tugging her forward, your hands warm and insistent against her. She lets herself be pulled, the cigarette slipping from her fingers into an ashtray, forgotten in the wake of your touch.

“Where should we go?” you prompted, voice filled with something light, something playful. Your arms wrap around her, your body pressed close, and she can’t help but let out a small, breathy laugh.

She wants to say nowhere. She wants to say right here, because there is something about the way you hold her, the way you look at her, that makes the world outside feel so unimportant. But then she sees the way your eyes shine with anticipation, with the thrill of movement, of escape, and she sighs, knowing there’s no saying no to you.

“The market,” the Sicilian murmurs, lips brushing against your temple. “Or the beach. Anywhere you want, amore.”

“Anywhere?” you press your nose against hers.

“Mmm. Anywhere, beautiful.”

Now, the world rushes past in a blur of golden light and warm air.

Melissa grips the handlebars of the Vespa, the engine humming beneath her, the cobblestone streets of Italy rolling out ahead in uneven, beautiful chaos. The buildings blur into flashes of terracotta and pale blue, laundry swaying from the balconies above as if waving them along. The scent of espresso and fresh bread lingers in the environment, mixing with the salt of the sea that isn’t far now.

And then there’s you with your arms wrapped tight around her waist, your body pressed against her back. She can feel the way you laugh against her, the sound vibrating through her ribs like music. Your chin rests on her shoulder, and she catches glimpses of your smile in her peripheral vision, wide and unrestrained, the kind that makes her chest ache in the best way.

She lets one hand briefly slip from the handlebar to rest atop yours, squeezing gently, grounding herself in the warmth of your touch.

The wind catches your hair, and you let out a delighted gasp, gripping her tighter.

“Faster, Mel!” you call out over the roar of the engine, full of reckless joy.

Melissa just chuckles, shaking her head but giving in anyway, twisting the throttle, making the Vespa leap forward.

The world blurs faster now, the streets giving way to open roads, the city melting into the promise of the sea.

The Vespa slows to a stop near a sun-drenched piazza, where the sound of distant waves mingles with the lively hum of conversation. The redheaded woman kills the engine, her hands steady on the handlebars for a moment before she feels you slip off the back. Your warmth leaves her, but then your fingers find hers, lacing together effortlessly as you tug her along, feet light against the cobblestone.

Hand in hand, you wander through the square, past market stalls brimming with ripe peaches and sun-warmed tomatoes, past old men playing cards beneath striped umbrellas. The day is golden, spilling over rooftops and onto your skin, and your girlfriend feels it seeping into her bones, softening something deep inside her.

Then it happens.

A small, wobbly child, no older than two, stumbles toward you with an excited squeal, hands outstretched as if drawn to you by some unseen force. The mother. Young, exhausted, but smiling—hurries after, but you’ve already crouched down, hands on your knees, meeting the baby’s wide-eyed delight with your own.

“Hey, little one,” you coo, your fingers reaching out as the child clumsily grasps at them. “You are a curious one, aren’t ya?”

Melissa simply watches from afar, her heart slowing, thickening.

You let the baby grip your fingers, guiding her in a tiny, unsteady spin, both of you giggling when she nearly topples. The mother laughs, thanking you, but you’re too caught up in the moment, wiggling your nose at the child, sticking out your tongue, making the little girl burst into bright, bubbling laughter.

She swallows hard.

It’s not just that you’re good with kids. It’s not just that you’re patient, playful, effortlessly gentle.

It’s the way you look at the child. Like she’s something precious, something to be cherished. Like you don’t see a burden but a gift.

The Schemmenti woman exhales slowly, her grip tightening on the strap of her bag.

She thinks about things she rarely lets herself think about.

She thinks about how, for most of her life, she never let herself want this. Not really. Not after Joe, not after everything. She had buried that part of herself deep, convinced that she wasn’t meant for it. That no one would ever look at her and see a future like that.

But now.

She looks at you, the way your eyes crinkle at the corners, the way you let the baby grasp at your fingers like she’s the most important thing in the world.

She pictures you with a child. Not just any child. Hers.

Yours.

A life that looks nothing like the past. A love that builds instead of breaks.

Melissa’s throat tightens, her chest aching in a way she can’t quite name.

The baby squeals again before her mother scoops her up, offering you a grateful smile before disappearing into the crowd. You stand, brushing off your knees, turning back to your girlfriend with a grin.

“She was so cute, huh?” you say, nudging her playfully.

The older woman doesn’t answer right away.

Instead, she lifts a hand to your face, brushing her knuckles against your cheek with a tenderness that catches even her off guard.

You blink up at her, surprised, but you don’t pull away. Her other hand finds your waist, fingers pressing lightly into your skin, grounding herself.

“Yeah, she was.”

Melissa keeps her hand on your waist, her gaze fixed on you, but her mind drifts to places it’s rarely allowed to go. The laughter of the baby lingers in her ears, soft but echoing, a melody that pulls her deeper into the daydream.

She imagines you and her, walking down a sunlit street with a stroller between you, a small, content child nestled inside. She pictures you laughing at something silly the child does, your eyes bright, filled with that same warmth she feels now. Your hand would be on the stroller’s handle, your other hand likely brushing through the child’s messy hair as you coo softly to them.

In this scenario, it’s natural. It doesn’t feel like a dream, but a truth that’s just waiting to happen. It’s easy, effortless, like the two of you were always meant to find your way here. The baby would be yours, and the love between the three of you would fill every room in every house, every corner, every dark moment.

But then, she shifts her thought just a bit further, and she can see it clearer. Pearl.

She imagines Pearl, the woman who raised her, holding the baby in her arms, sitting in her faded armchair with the child nestled against her chest. The child, still in that phase of babbling, would look up at the eldest with wide, curious eyes, calling out the one word that would wrap everything up in a bow:

“Nonna.”

Nonna.

The word echoes in Melissa’s chest. She feels it like a weight, like a treasure. The softness in Pearl’s eyes, the way she would grin, utterly taken with the baby. She could see her rocking slowly, humming a lullaby under her breath—one that she had hummed for Melissa herself as a child. She can almost hear it, the words slipping softly into the air, woven with love and the kind of tenderness only a grandmother can give.

She sees the retired housekeeper smiling down at the baby, smoothing a hand over their little head, murmuring about how precious they are, how lucky they are to have found a family like this. A family that’s been broken, rebuilt, and now—finally—complete.

And in this daydream, you girlfriend imagines herself standing beside Pearl, holding your hand, watching the two of them together. There’s a sense of peace she’s never allowed herself to believe in. For so long, Melissa had told herself that this kind of happiness wasn’t meant for her. But now, with you, with the possibility of this, she can see it clearly.

The way Pearl would look at her, too, proud, content, seeing her with a child in her arms. The child of the woman she raised and knowing that this is what she always dreamed for her.

Family.

The green eyed woman blinks, the quiet swell of emotion taking her by surprise. She tightens her grip on your waist, and you glance up at her, noticing the distant look in her eyes.

“Hey,” you say softly, your voice cutting through the fog of her thoughts. “What’s on your mind?”

She meets your gaze, her heart beating a little faster, her chest tight with something both scary and wonderful. She doesn’t say anything at first, letting the warmth between the two of you hang in the air.

And then, she just smiles, a little uncertain, but completely there.

“I’m just… thinking about the future.”

The words feel strange, like she’s letting go of something heavy, but the weight of it doesn’t feel so bad anymore.

Your fingers tighten around hers, and for the first time, she lets herself imagine it—really imagine it. A future with you. A future where Pearl gets to have a grandchild.

The daydream doesn’t end when Melissa blinks back to reality. It lingers, weaving itself into her soul, refusing to let go.

She imagines nighttime.

She pictures your bedroom, the lamplight casting shadows against the walls, the gentle hum of the city outside barely audible over the quiet giggles coming from the gigantic bed.

Your bed.

Her wife is there. Her wife. The words settle into her chest like something sacred, something she never thought she’d deserve. You’re propped up against the pillows, your hair a little messy, your expression sleepy but content. And in your arms, cradled against your chest, is your baby.

Your tiny Schemmenti.

Melissa sees herself in the vision, slipping into bed after changing into one of her old, soft t-shirts, her red hair slightly damp from the shower. She watches as she reaches for the baby, gently, carefully, her large hands engulfing the tiny, warm body. The baby, so chubby, so soft, with round cheeks and heavy little limbs immediately clings to her, their small fingers grasping at the fabric of her shirt, nuzzling into her.

The redheaded woman can feel the weight of them in her arms, the warmth of their skin against hers, and the way they squirm just enough to get comfortable before settling. She pictures herself making a silly face, puffing out her cheeks, crossing her eyes just to see the way the baby bursts into laughter, all gummy and bright.

You’re laughing too, eyes filled with nothing but love as you watch her. “You’re ridiculous,” you murmur, but you’re smiling, tilting your head as Melissa wiggles her nose against the baby’s cheek, making them giggle even more.

Then, there’s another presence—a warmth that makes the entire scene feel even fuller.

Pearl. Again.

She’s standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with her arms crossed, watching with that deep, knowing smile of hers. She’s older now, but her eyes hold the same pride, the same unwavering love that she’s had for Melissa since the beginning.

She sees her shake her head, letting out a soft chuckle. “Never thought I’d see the day,” Pearl sobs with emotion.

Melissa looks up from where she’s pressing soft kisses against the baby’s plump cheeks, her lips still curved in a gentle smile. “Yeah?” she says, her voice teasing, but there’s something vulnerable beneath it.

The woman who raised her steps forward, reaching out to brush her fingers through her auburn hair in that same way she did when your wife was just a little girl. “You deserve this, honey,” she says simply, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

And suddenly, Melissa Schemmenti feels it.

All of it.

The weight of love—real love—settling deep into her bones, filling all the spaces she once thought were empty forever. The love from you, from the baby in her arms, from Pearl. It’s a kind of love that she never thought she was worthy of, not after everything, not after Joe, not after years of believing she was too damaged, too broken.

She blinks rapidly, but it’s no use. The tears come anyway, slipping down her freckled cheeks, catching in the corners of her mouth. She lets out a shaky breath, tightening her hold on the baby, pressing them closer, like if she holds them tight enough, she can keep this moment forever.

You shift beside her, brushing her hair back, thumb swiping gently at her tears. “Oh, baby,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You’re gonna make me cry too.”

Melissa lets out a watery laugh, sniffling as the baby shifts in her arms, looking up at her with wide, curious eyes. Their tiny fingers reach for her face, patting at her cheek, and she catches their hand, pressing a soft kiss to their palm.

Pearl is still there, watching, her eyes glistening. “Told you,” she says again, shaking her head with a smile.

Your wife lets out another breath, her heart so full that it almost hurts.

For the first time in her life, she believes it.

She deserves this.

She deserves love.

Her chest tightens as the warmth of the vision lingers, the imagined weight of the baby still present in her arms, but then like a candle flickering in the wind, her mind drifts elsewhere.

To her.

Teresa Schemmenti.

Her mother. The woman who gave birth to her.

Melissa gasps, suddenly feeling the weight of something else pressing against her ribs.

She doesn’t think of her often. Not really. At least, she tries not to.

But here, in Italy, with the scent of home in the air, with the sun warming her skin and the echoes of children’s laughter in the distance. She justs can’t help it.

The older woman thinks about the last time she saw her mother, the way the woman sat in that room, her eyes distant, unfocused. A ghost of who she once was.

The dementia had taken so much.

It had taken the sharp-witted, steel-spined woman who once ruled the Schemmenti household with a glare alone. It had taken the mother who, despite her flaws, had always been there. Present, even in silence.

And now? Now, there were moments where Teresa didn’t even recognize her own daughter.

Melissa closes her eyes for a moment, breathing deeply.

She remembers the first time it happened. walking into the care facility when John Antony called her earlier, greeting Teresa with her usual smirk, only to be met with a confused stare.

“Who the hell are you?! Where are my kids? Can you please help me?”

The words had knocked the breath out of her.

She had frozen, standing there like a goddamn statue, waiting—hoping— that maybe her mother’s eyes would clear, that recognition would bloom across her face.

It never did.

She had nodded, muttered something about checking in, and left before the lump in her throat could choke her.

And now, sitting here in the piazza, hand in yours, she wonders..will her mother ever know?

Will she ever know about you? About the life Melissa is building? About the woman she loves, the future she wants?

Will she ever know that Melissa is happy, that she made it, despite everything?

Or will she simply fade further and further away, lost to the disease, to time, until nothing remains but a name on a plaque and a past no one remembers?

Your girlfriend swallows hard, staring down at her free hand. She flexes her fingers, studies the lines in her palm.

Then, suddenly, your fingers are there. Warm, gentle, sliding between hers, grounding her back to the present.

Melissa blinks, looking up at you. Your brows are furrowed, concern evident in your eyes.

“Sweet girl?” your tone is soft. “You okay?”

You feel a squeeze in your hand.

The redheaded woman doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she just looks at you, really looks at you. At the way the sun catches in your hair. At the kindness in your eyes. At the love, the certainty that sits so easily in your expression, like you never once doubted your place at her side.

And just like that, the heaviness eases.

Not completely.

But enough.

She squeezes your hand again, and this time, she manages a small smile.

“Yeah,” Melissa reassured you. “I’m okay.”

After some minutes, your girlfriend swallows the lump in her throat, her grip on your hand tightening. The weight of her thoughts lingers, pressing down on her chest like a stone she can’t shake off. She looks at you again, at the way your fingers rest so easily in hers, at the warmth of your presence beside her. She blinks slowly, the decision settling in her bones before she even finds the words.

“I wanna see her.”

You frown, tilting your head slightly. “Who?”

“My mom.”

“Oh.”

Melissa nods, her jaw clenching for a second before she forces herself to relax. “Yeah.” She looks down at your joined hands, tracing circles over your knuckles absentmindedly. “It’s been… a while. I don’t even know if she’d remember me.” Her voice drops slightly, something fragile threading through it. “But I think I need to try.”

You don’t speak right away, and for a moment, she worries—worries that you’ll tell her it’s too late, that Teresa Schemmenti is too far gone, that she’s only setting herself up for disappointment.

But then you squeeze her hand, your thumb brushing over her skin in that way that always calms her.

“I think that’s a good idea, Mel.” Your voice is gentle, sure. “I think she’d be happy to see you.”

Melissa huffs a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “I don’t know about happy. She was never too fond of me. Just of my siblings.”

“She’s your mother,” you remind her softly. “And you’re her daughter. Even if she doesn’t remember everything, maybe some part of her still knows.”

The green eyed woman swallows again, looking away for a second. “I just…” she sighed, rubbing at her temple. “I spent so long feeling like I wasn’t enough for her. Like I wasn’t what she wanted. And now, she might not even know me. Feels like a cruel joke.”

You shift closer, your free hand reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Maybe it’s not about what she remembers,” you say softly. “Maybe it’s about what you need. If you want to see her, if you want to talk to her, then that’s enough of a reason to go.”

Melissa studies you, her chest tightening for an entirely different reason now.

You make it sound so simple.

And maybe, in a way, it is.

She sighs again, nodding slowly. “Yeah.” She glances toward the horizon, where the sun is starting to dip, casting everything in a golden hue. “I think I need to do this.”

You smile. “Then we’ll go.”

Melissa looks back at you.

“We?” she echoes, arching an eyebrow.

You nudge her playfully. “Of course we. You think I’m letting you do this alone?”

Melissa chuckles. “Didn’t think you’d wanna waste your time in some nursing home or a boring mansion, babe.”

You roll your eyes, but your smile doesn’t fade. “Your time isn’t a waste to me.”

She gulps, looking at you for a long moment before she exhales again, softer this time.

“Guess we got a trip back to Philly to make then,”she brings your hand to her lips, pressing a kiss against your knuckles.

And for the first time in a long while, the thought of seeing her mother doesn’t feel as terrifying.

[noodlesoup21]

guess who got an Eagles shirt

do I follow the NFL? - No

am I English? -Yes

was it just because I’m in love with Melissa schemmenti? -yes

[fabflava]

Ohhhh, let’s get INTO IT. ( This is particularly for my open minded, fanfic reading, Abbott fans lol)

Crystal and Ava’s dynamic is so layered, and I need people to hear me no matter how crazy it may sound LOL!

From the moment Crystal stepped on screen, it was too familiar. The little smirks, the way she just knew how to push Ava’s buttons…like, sis wasn’t just some old sorority sister, that was an old flame.

Don’t get me started on how touchy Crystal is. Like, Ava be swerving everybody 😂 she barely even lets Janine and Jacob breathe in her space), but Crystal? She lets her get close. Too close. Even to the point of hugging her. She doesn’t hug her back but she doesn’t push her away.

It’s like Crystal got some pull over her, and the way Ava’s eyes got all soft for a second? Not in a “I’m in love” way, but in a “I remember” way. Like for a second, the walls drop, and we get a glimpse of the girl she used to be. The one before the ego, before the show she puts on at Abbott. The girl that nobody else at that school has seen that side of her—only Crystal.

That’s why I very VERY lowkey feel like Crystal was part of Ava’s bisexual awakening. Like, I know in my little delusional soul that Crystal was Ava’s first real crush, the one that made her realize she was into women. Maybe in their sorority days, Crystal was the one who cracked open something in Ava, made her feel in a way she wasn’t ready for. Maybe it was love?

I could see something messy going down. I wouldn’t put it past Crystal to have played along with some pledge humiliation, made Ava feel small in front of the other girls, maybe even acted like whatever they had wasn’t real.

And that’s why Ava’s been trying to get the upper hand ever since. Every little jab, every attempt to one-up Crystal—it’s not just for fun. It’s a grudge. A wound that never really healed. It’s not just about competition; it’s about power. Like, Ava refuses to be put in a position where Crystal can hurt her again, so she masks everything with jokes and pettiness.

So yes, Ava has to one-up Crystal. But It’s not just ego. It’s protection. BUT she did let her ego go this latest episode so we shall see how this dynamic goes.

[stormcided]

ABBOTT ELEMENTARY (2021-present)

"District budget meeting" S4 E14

[abbottfansstuff]

Something Real:

**Chapter 1: New Teacher, New Problem**

Author's Note: What can I say? I have hit the inspiration zone... I have an outline completed and a week of vacation. Let's do this!

Abbott Elementary had seen its fair share of new teachers. Most came in bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, determined to change the world, only to find themselves deflated by budget cuts, broken copy machines, and kids who had no interest in learning. Melissa Schemmenti had learned not to get too invested. Newbies either sank or swam, and she wasn’t a lifeguard.

But the moment Y/N walked into the staff lounge, something about them put her on edge. Not in a bad way, necessarily—just in a way that made her sit up a little straighter and fold her arms a little tighter. Y/N was confident. Not in an overeager way, but in a way that suggested they knew exactly what they were getting into. That was unusual. And irritating.

Melissa watched as Barbara greeted them warmly, her voice filled with the kind of patience Melissa could only hope to emulate one day. Jacob had already attached himself to Y/N, rambling about some podcast he thought they’d love, while Janine was grinning ear to ear—no doubt thrilled to have another ally in her relentless optimism.

Melissa snorted into her coffee. “Oh great, another idealist.”

Barbara glanced at her with a knowing look. “Be nice, Melissa.”

“I am nice,” Melissa said defensively. “I’m just saying, let’s see how long that shiny new teacher energy lasts.”

As if on cue, you turned your attention to her, offering a friendly smile. “Hey, you must be Melissa. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Melissa raised an eyebrow, already suspicious. “Yeah? Don’t believe everything you hear.”

You chuckled, unbothered. “Noted. Still, I’m looking forward to working with you.”

There was no sarcasm, no forced charm—just sincerity. That was worse. Melissa could handle arrogance and cut through fake politeness like butter, but sincerity? That was harder to deflect. So she defaulted to what she did best—snark.

“We’ll see if you can keep up.”

Your grin widened. “Oh, I plan to.”

Melissa turned away, pretending to be more interested in her coffee than in the weird way her stomach flipped when you smiled.

By the end of the week, Y/N had already made themselves comfortable at Abbott. Quick on their feet and—most annoyingly—getting along with everyone. Melissa found herself noticing it more than she wanted to. You fit in too quickly, like you had always been there. When Melissa first started at Abbott, she had to fight to find her space and earn respect. But Y/N? You were already laughing with Janine and Jacob, even cracking jokes with Mr. Johnson.

“Hey, Melissa,” Ava called from across the lounge. “Your new little friend is getting cozy with Janine. Should I be worried about another teacher power couple forming?”

Melissa rolled her eyes. “Oh please, they just met.”

“Uh-huh,” Ava said, clearly enjoying herself. “Still, wouldn’t be the first time a new teacher got swept up by Janine.”

Melissa scoffed but glanced over at you and Janine anyway.

Before she could stop herself, she was walking over. “Janine, don’t you have a class to get back to?”

Janine blinked. “Uh… lunch break?”

“Right.” Melissa turned to you. “How’s your first week going? Still think you can handle it?”

You smirked. “Oh, absolutely. But thanks for checking in on me.”

Melissa scoffed. “I wasn’t checking in, I was just—” She stopped, realizing she had no real reason for coming over. “Whatever.”

“I think I can handle it,” you teased, eyes glinting with something unreadable.

Melissa turned on her heel and walked away, ignoring the way her ears felt hot.

This was going to be a long school year.

Later that afternoon, Melissa found herself paired with you for an impromptu supply closet restocking mission. Apparently, you two were the only ones who hadn’t successfully dodged Ava’s request for “volunteers.”

As you sorted through bins of markers and glue sticks, you glanced at her. “So, be honest—what’s your problem with new teachers?”

Melissa didn’t look up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, you were skeptical. And I’ve noticed you watching me,” you said while counting the blue markers.

Melissa’s hand froze over a stack of construction paper. “I’m not watching you.”

You just smirked.

Melissa sighed, leaning against the shelf. “Look, nothing personal, all right? I’ve just seen a lot of teachers come and go.”

You nodded. “Fair. But you don’t seem to be testing anyone else.”

Melissa frowned. Damn, you were perceptive. “You’re just… different.”

You tilted your head. “Different how?”

Melissa opened her mouth, then closed it. She didn’t have an answer. Or at least not one she was ready to admit. Instead, she grabbed a box of pencils and shoved it into your hands. “Just don’t prove me right, rookie.”

You held her gaze for a second before taking the box with a smirk. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Melissa turned away before you could see the small, reluctant smile tugging at her lips.

This was going to be interesting.

[annissaarchive]

this weeks episode was so fire

mad i caught up and have to wait weekly now 😔

Guys omg this was so sexyyyyyy

[morgana-larkin]

Here it is, the next chapter! Now for this one, Joe is back for half the chapter and you might all hate this chapter but I don’t really care. Not edited in the slightest and I hope you like it!

On another note: I just want to say Happy Valentine’s Day to everyone! I was able to write a chapter today but I’m going on a date tomorrow so I won’t have a lot of time to write a chapter but I’ll see if I can write one quickly.

Just Tired - Part 8

Warnings: manipulative relationship, Upset Mel (you’ve been warned)

Words: 2.7k

You and Melissa get to your place. You let the both of you in and then you take your shoes off while Melissa looks around.

“If you’re looking for my roommate, she won’t get here for another hour.” You tell her and she nods. “Do you want to text Joe? Just to get it over with, and you’re not home so there’s no way he can get to you. I’m not pressuring you but I’m guessing it’s something on your mind.” You tell her and she nods.

“I want to end it but… I don’t know, I’m just scared.” She says and she goes to sit on the couch and you follow her.

“What are you scared about?”

“I’ve been with Joe since I was 23, I’ve been with him for most of my life and now I’m letting him go.” She tells you. “I get he’s a manipulator, but there’s some part of me that wants to stay with him as he’s all I’ve known for 25 years.” She tells you and you hum. She then gets a text and she goes to read it before she groans.

“What is it?”

“Joe said he wants to know when I’m coming home so we can talk about what happened.” She tells you and you look at the text.

“You don’t have to go see him in person, you can tell him right now that it’s over.”

“No, I think it’s better if I tell him in person. I think it's better for me, so my brain understands that it’ll actually be over.” She says and you nod.

“Want me to drive you over?” You ask her and she nods.

“Please.” She says softly and you take her hand.

You drive her to her place where Joe walks out of the house as soon as he hears the car pull in. You see a white bandage over his nose and think that Melissa got him good. Melissa takes a deep breath and then gets out of the car.

“Melissa where have you been? You haven’t been home since yesterday afternoon.” He asks her and then sees you. “What is your coworker doing here and driving your car?”

“That doesn’t matter.” She tells him and then you slightly roll down the window, enough so you can hear but they don’t notice that it’s open. “I wanted to come here to tell you that it’s over between us, I want a divorce.” She firmly states.

“Oh come on Melissa, you’re just overreacting.” Joe tells her. “Look I know you’re sorry about breaking my nose, so just come inside.” He says and she shakes her head.

“No, I’m telling you that I’m really asking for a divorce.” She says and walks a few steps towards him. “I’m going to file for one and I want to make sure that you’ll sign the papers.”

“I’m not going to sign them. I’m not signing anything because of some hissy fit.” He tells her and crosses his arms.

“You have been manipulating me this entire time, the entire time we’ve been together. I think the least you can do is sign the damn papers.” She admits to him and he widens his eyes slightly.

“I haven’t been manipulating you. I don’t know what’s going on in your mind or what your coworkers have been drilling into your head, but let’s just continue our normal lives as husband and wife.” He says and offers her a hand for her to take.

“They haven’t been telling me anything, I found out on my own.” She says and Joe looks at you.

“Has she been spewing nonsense at you. I saw how she looked at you at the bar, she has a crush on you.” He says, blaming everything on you. “I bet she’s been feeding you lies about me, about us. She wants this to happen, she wants to be with you so she’s sabotaging our marriage.” He says to her and she’s shaking her head.

“No, she’s not.” Melissa tells him and walks closer to him. “I haven’t been happy in a long time and I never knew why until yesterday.” She admits and he looks at her.

“Do you think you can find someone else? Someone who will love you better than me?” He asks her as she steps toward her. “Face it, I’m your best chance.” He says with anger and points a finger at her.

“No, no you’re not.” She says and looks down quickly before looking back up with a tear rolling down her cheek.

“Now you’re crying? You’re so sensitive, woman.” He tells her.

“It’s ok to have emotions, it’s ok for me to cry.” She defends herself. “You just never wanted me to cry because you wanted me to just stay clueless about what you were doing to me.” She tells him and then he grabs both her wrists. “Let me go!” She tells him.

“I haven’t been doing anything to you, it’s you that’s clearly flying off the rails. If you leave me then you’ll be alone for the rest of your life.” He says to her. “It’s obvious you’re not feeling well right now, so just calm down and I’ll bring you to bed.”

“No, just let me go.” She says softly as a few more tears stream down her face. He then is able to hold both her wrists in one hand and he grabs her chin with his free hand.

“Melissa, come on and think about it. We’ve been together for 25 years and we love each other, shouldn’t that be enough for you?” He tells her and she shakes her head. “So you want to be alone for the rest of your life? Cause that’s what you'll be if you let me go.”

“You should let her go.” You tell him and he turns his head to see you there holding a bat, ready to swing. “Let her go, she said she wants a divorce.” You add.

“You’re probably feeding her nonsense, trying to ruin a perfectly good marriage so you can have her.” He says to you and you shake your head.

“I haven’t done a thing except helping Melissa yesterday after she left you.” You tell him. “Now let her go or I won’t hesitate to use this.” You say and he thinks about it for a few seconds before he lets her go.

“You’ll regret this Melissa, and you’ll come crawling back to me.” He tells her before he walks back inside the house.

You lower the bat before you run up to Melissa, who’s full on crying right now. You wrap your arms around her and she lays her head on your chest while she just cries it out. After about a minute you gently stroke her head and she wraps her arms around your waist. You feel her pull the both of you down so you lower yourself, with her, to your knees. After a couple minutes, you feel her sniffle and her tears subside.

“Can you take me to your place?” She says softly and you nod.

“I can definitely do that.” You tell her and you help her stand up and then bring her to the passenger seat. You put the bat back in the backseat and then you drive the both of you to your place.

“Can we go to your room and cuddle?” She asks you and you nod. She walks to your room without any help from you and you see her wrap her arms around herself and she’s looking down. You quickly get a box of chocolates from the cupboard and bring it upstairs to your room where she’s sitting on the edge of the bed.

“None of what he told you was true.” You tell her and she looks up at you. “I heard everything.” You admit and she brings her knees to her chest and hugs herself. “Were you wanting to cuddle on the edge of the bed?” You ask her and she shakes her head.

You go up to the headboard, place the chocolates on the nightstand and sit down and she takes a deep breath before she crawls up to you and places her head on your lap. You gently stroke her hair and she wraps one of her arms around your legs. You then start humming a lullaby that your mom used to sing to you and you feel some of her tension leave.

“Something he did say was true.” She tells you.

“What are you referring to?” You ask.

“You did help ruin the marriage.” She says softly and you look at her and freeze in your stroking. “But that’s not a bad thing.” She adds. “I’m glad you got involved, that you overstepped.” She says and you resume stroking her head.

“Ya?”

“Ya, I knew I was unhappy but I couldn’t figure out why. Until you got involved.” She tells you and you hum. “I have something to confess.”

“And what would that be?”

“Barb’s guest bedroom is always ready to be used, she didn’t have to get it ready.” She admits. “If I’m being honest, it felt nice to be held like how you held me last night and I wanted that again.”

“Melissa, you could have told me that and I still would have said you can stay here again.” You tell her.

“I know but I just didn’t want to admit it, out loud.” She tells you and a thought pops into your head.

“Melissa?” You ask her and she hums. “Did you know you might be into women?” You ask her.

“No, but last week I realised that I’ve been attracted to women before without knowing.” She confesses.

“Are you comfortable going to a bar where women will definitely hit on you?”

“Ya, I think that’s something that will make me feel better. Explore more of myself and kiss some people.” She says.

“It’s a gay bar, so there’ll be lesbians, bisexual women and men.” You tell her. “But mostly lesbians and bisexual women hang out there. And I see most of them hit on older women. So they’ll be all over you.” You add and she hums.

“That sounds nice.” She says with a yawn and then she falls asleep on your lap. You then get your phone out and you text Barb what happened and that Melissa is now asleep on your lap.

Melissa opens her eyes and sees that she’s been tucked in your bed and her head is on one of your pillows. She’s pretty sure she was just laying on your lap a few seconds ago. She then hears some noise downstairs so she gets out of bed and makes her way to the stairs. She then hears some voices in the kitchen and realises that you and Barb are talking.

“You’re doing an excellent job at helping her dear.” Barb tells you.

“I just feel like I’m not doing enough.” You say to her.

“You’re listening to what she needs and making sure she gets exactly what she needs to help. I mean you did a combined class all day because she needed you at the last minute.” Barb says.

“Ok.” You say. “Will this really help her feel better?” You then ask.

“It’s a comfort meal of hers that I made her after she had a fight with Joe and I made it every time she stayed at my place overnight.” Barb explains to you. At that moment Melissa decides to go downstairs and you look up and smile at her.

“Hey, you’re awake.” You tell her. “Feel any better?” You ask and she nods.

“I’m pretty sure I fell asleep on your lap though.” She says and you nod.

“You did, but Barb came over and I had to open the door for her.” You tell her and she hums. “She made your favourite comfort food.” You add and she looks at Barb putting it on 3 plates.

“Y/n told me everything.” Barb tells Melissa.

“You warned me about him 15 years ago and I should have listened to you.” Melissa tells Barb.

“Melissa, sometimes people in this situation aren’t aware for a while and they have to figure it out themselves. Even though Y/n and I both told you, you had to figure it out yourself to actually understand what was happening.” She tells Melissa and you see how Melissa nods with watery eyes. You go up to Melissa with a plate and you gently hand it to her while also rubbing her arm.

“Eating might make you feel better.” You tell her softly and she nods as she takes the plate and heads over to the couch. Barb hands you one of the plates and you both follow Melissa to the couch. You end up sitting on the floor across from them and Melissa looks at you.

“Where are you eating on the floor?” She asks you.

“It really only fits 2 people comfortably.” You tell her. She then looks at the empty spot on the couch and then at you. Barb gets the hint and goes to the side of the couch before Melissa pats the now empty spot beside her. “I mean it, it’s really only comfortable for 2.” You repeat and she raises her eyebrows at you before you get up and join them on the couch. Melissa gets you to sit down as close to her as possible so that at least your legs are touching hers.

All 3 of you eat dinner and talk for about an hour before Barb heads back to her place and you’re left alone with Melissa again. Melissa then goes to cuddle you on the couch. You lean back on the couch and she wraps an arm around your waist and places her head on your chest. You wrap an arm around her and she lets out a content sigh. She stays like through the entire movie that you let her pick.

“I should go have a shower before bed.” You tell her and she sighs.

“No.” She complains and wraps her arm tighter around you.

“Melissa, we can cuddle in bed after I’m done.” You tell her and she still doesn’t let you go. “Melissa, I promise we can cuddle in bed after I’m finished or you can swing that bat at my head.” You tell her and she thinks about it before she sighs and lets you go. “I’ll be quick.” You tell her and then you go have a quick shower while she goes upstairs and gets changed in some pjs.

You come out in a towel and hair wet and Melissa freezes at the sight and her cheeks turn the same colour as her hair. You miss her reaction as you went right to your dresser to get some pjs.

“I keep forgetting to bring pjs with me.” You say as you get some out. Melissa snaps out of her trance before you turn around and she swallows the extra saliva she got from drooling over you.

“That’s ok. I’ll just finish getting ready for bed in the bathroom.” Melissa says and then bolts to the bathroom.

She comes out a few minutes later and you’re in bed on your phone. She crawls into bed beside you and you set your alarms before you put your phone down and look at her.

“I called Ava and told her I’m not going into work tomorrow.” She tells you and you nod.

“That’s a good idea.” You say to her.

Melissa looks into your eyes and sees the care you have for her and she feels a slight flutter in her stomach. In a moment of confidence she goes to give you a kiss on your cheek as a thank you. You happen to turn your head right before and she ends up kissing your lips. She quickly pulls away and you both are looking at each other with wide eyes as the realisation kicks in. Melissa licks her lips and looks at yours before she kisses you again.

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