#Ava Coleman x you

[schemmentisimpasours]

5:1 Isn't Enough

Second's time a charm when it comes to posting this I guess. But also I have no idea where the first one went so if you seeing this twice tell tumblr a polite fuck you. Summary: Inspired by the song 5:1 by Chinchilla. You and Ava are in a relationship and you realize that maybe a ratio of 5 to 1 love is not good enough anymore. Thank you @milfjuulpod for the push to actually write this. Also will this be a series? Idk.. maybe

Masterlist

1.6k words

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Ava Coleman had taken a risk dating you two years ago considering who your moms were but when you had walked into Abbott Elementary she had been attracted to you. You walked in with such confidence that it was intoxicating but Ava could tell you that you were shy underneath it all. That at the end of the day you just wanted people to make the decisions for you. That you wanted to be cared for and not have to be the strong one all the time. It had taken Ava awhile to break down your walls but finally you had let her in. Once Ava was in you fell hard and fast. She was everything that you had wanted and more and you made sure to show and tell her as much as possible.

The first time that you had told Ava that you loved her it had been about six months into your relationship. She had taken you to a Flyers game ten rows from the glass in the middle because you said it gave you the best view of the whole rink. She had presented the tickets to you wrapped in the jersey from your favorite player for your birthday. The gift had brought you to tears and the whole game had you on the edge of your seat. Beer in one hand and hot pretzel in the others you were cheering along with the crowd and yelling at the refs. When the kiss cam appeared on the jumbotron with your face next to Ava you almost spilled everything trying to turn towards her. Ava had cupped your face pulling you in like she had done so many times before the kiss growing greedy as the crowd cheered. When you finally came up for air you placed your forehead against hers and said I love you Ava. She never responded and you tossed it up to the loudness of the arena around you. 

As your relationship grew and you moved in with Ava you had fallen into an easy morning routine. Getting ready for the work at the same time handing each other clothes and makeup as needed. Ava helping you style your hair in different ways that she had seen on tiktok or you giving her new accessories to add to her already dazzling outfits. It was everything that you had wanted in more in a relationship. Then as you made her lunch and put a cup of coffee in her hand you would lean in and give her a kiss. As she walked through the door you would say I Love You getting Ava’s response of I’ll see you after work honey. Then as the door closed the closeness of the moments you shared seemed to fall away. Your shared apartment felt empty and you sunk back into your head getting more and more lost as the days passed. 

Every time that you had returned home from work Ava was on some sort of livestream. Your living room turned into her own small business to make extra money. Many people assumed that this money was for herself however after the bills were paid whatever was leftover went back into Abbott. In small ways to not let the district catch on to what was happening but to at least get the students ahead a little more. You often sat off camera and watched her as she sent occasional smiling glances over at you. She adored when you watched her work and had often commented that it made her feel like she was on top of the world. Then after the cameras were often she would collapse into your arms exhausted from the day and you would kiss her forehead and tell her you loved her. She would merely wrapped her arms around you and kiss down your neck till you forgot what had happened during your day.

At night when you were getting ready for bed was when you were able to see the softer side of Ava. The one who unburied herself from the hard exterior and sat on the edge of the bed wondering how she was going to be able to face another day as the principal no one believed in. Tears rolling down her face as another idea for funding had slipped through her fingers. These are the moments that Ava was the most vulnerable and clung to you like you were a life preserver. You would wrap your arms around her letting her cling to you as she questioned her self-worth. Rubbing her back and giving her small kisses on her forehead you would remind her how much you appreciated her. How much she did for the students at Abbott. How amazing she really was. How much you loved her and would always be there to support her. She would squeeze you close but never respond back. 

The only time that Ava had ever admitted she loved you was when you were tangled in the sheets—naked body on top of hers as she curled her back off the mattress. Eyes closed as the wave of pleasure closed in around her legs shaking from the release of the string that kept her so well contained. Hair a mess on the blanket, her lips swollen with kisses, breasts heaving from her ragged breaths was when she would finally say it. Fuck I love you Y/N after the orgasm finally receeded and you would smile knowing that you had finally pulled it from her. Your response was instant as you curled around her holding onto her like she would disappear in a moment’s notice. And as she drifted off to sleep you thoughts began to creep in. You wondered how it was that you were always the one showing your love and how the same three words that you repeated like a prayer were never returned. More often than not they were ignored unless it was something that benefited Ava directly.  

Finally one morning after a sleepless night pondering your relationship and where it had all gone wrong you decided that you could take it no longer. Skipping your morning meeting you went to Abbott to talk to Ava directly. You rushed through the doors ignoring as Barbara called your name from the sign in sheet. Opening the door to Ava’s office without knocking you looked at the woman that you had been connect to for two years.

“We need to talk,” You said slamming the door behind you.

“Why you coming in here slamming shit like you own the place?” Ava asked placing down her phone, “Kinda sexy but damn girl take a minute to chill.”

“I realize that I’m hopelessly addicted to the breadcrumbs of your affection but I am starting to wonder if all of this is worth it,” You said your heart already beginning to break, “Do you even realize what you are doing to me? I say “I love you” but you only reply one out of five times.”

Ava faltered for a moment looking at the tears already welling in your eyes, “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

You threw your hands up in anger stalking the small office, “I tell you I love you every morning before you go to work. You never say anything. I tell you whenever I can throughout the day to show you how much I appreciate you. When you get home from work I tell you I love you and how proud I am of you. Before we go to sleep I am constantly telling you how much I appreciate you and want you in my life. You only tell me after we have sex.”

Your last words came out louder than you wanted causing Ava to flinch, “Y/N please..”

“No, I am done waiting. Do you really only love sometimes at a ratio of 1:5?” You asked your hands beginning to shake with all your built up emotions, “Am I really just a body for you to use and abuse?”

“You are so much more than that,” Ava said standing to walk towards you. 

You backed up away from her touch letting the tears fall freely now, “That isn’t what it feels like at all. If that is true then why don’t you say it. Just three little words and you can’t even give me a chance to hear them. I sit in our bed every night and wonder is the person I’ve been fighting for emotionally unavailable?”

“Say it,” Ava persisted beginning to push you into the corner of your office, “Say it and I will say it back.”

You shook your head a small pitiful smile coming over you, “Don’t you understand Ava…I don’t want you to say it just because I say it. I want you to actually mean it. To love me so much that you can’t help but scream it every chance you get. But I guess that is too much to ask.Maybe you never loved me to start with.”

You pushed past her back into the hallway where a crowd had grown. Keeping your head down you went to the front doors clutching your keys in your hand. Before the doors closed you heard your mothers' voice calling out to you but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Instead you put your keys in the ignition and pulled out of the parking lot to go to work. Hoping that the repetitive nature of the job would take away the pain that you felt from your heart crumbling around you.

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Taglist

@abbottfanstuff

@milfjuulpod

@cupldscntrl

[cosmicanemoia]

Nights Like This

Ava Coleman x Reader

Inspired by Kehlani's song, Nights Like This.

"He dated me for five years, but I only dated him for 2"

The reason: you were together at the time, you see signs but you ignore them because you trust her, and when you found out and confront her, she didn't deny or even tried to apologise, but instead justify her action and calls it quit with you saying "Let's be real, we both know we ain't gonna last this long" with that she turns her back walking away from you and leaving you in tears.

Five years of relationship and it ended for a few seconds just like that. The first two years were great, but it started to strain on the third, that's when she met her boy toy, now boyfriend. She managed to lie and lie, the hiding, and sneaking out went out for years, but she got sloppy and you accidentally found out when she made reservations for both at the same time.

"Hi. Uh this table is reserved for me and my girlfriend" you said to the guy who sat opposite you. "No. This is the table reserved for me and my girlfriend" when Ava arrived, the guy grabbed her hands and kissed her, calling her sweetie. You watch in horror trying to figure out what's happening in front of your very eyes. Flashbacks started flooding your mind, showing the all the signs and reason for the scene in front of you, and all you could mutter was "I'm such an idiot" you scoff and started to collect your things before a tear starts to fall from your eyes and went out the restaurant.

Ava followed you outside. "Hey babe--" ava started talking but you cut her off "Don't babe me. I'm such a fucking idiot. How can you do this to me?" She didn't answer. You face her and lock eyes with her "How long?-- How long have you been seeing him behind my back?--" You wait for her answer, "I don't know three years, maybe" she said without remorse, your jaw drop by the revelation "oh- my- god-" you put your hand on your mouth, your breathing heavily "you should have broken up with me, instead of rubbing it in my face" she yelled at you "I didn't meant for you to find out!" "Oh. So you don't plan on telling me. Hey girlfriend I secretly have a boyfriend and I don't want you to find out" you mock "I love you and I really like him. I don't wanna hurt you" she said and you scoff "That's very foolish of you" you tell her and it triggered her "Let's be real, we both know we ain't gonna last this long" then she left and went in the restaurant to continue living her merry life, and your left with a hole in your heart.

Her obsession in climbing the social ladder makes her a cheater. And you can't hate her for being ambitious and doing anything she wants just because, even if you can, you won't, and you would never because you love her way too much more than you should. Maybe you failed showing her how much she meant to you or maybe she just didn't saw.

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You now run a non profit organisation with your friends who are also your colleagues from your actual job.

You are a ghost writer. Not caring much about the publicity or fame, you love being a ghost writer. Though sometimes people convince you to agree to be credited and have your name along with the other writers, they said only few people look for the writers nowadays. You agreed in the end, but you told them they have to use your pen name and not your actual name or else you're out.

The songs and stories you ghost write are doing pretty great and are instantly becoming a hit and more request comes your way.

You and your friends were out celebrating your joint success and you all agreed to give back to the community.

You and your colleagues ended up deciding to do a Charity event rather than choosing to donate to just one establishment.

Every teacher and principal are invited. All kinds of people who works at a school is encouraged to attend.

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Gregory, Jacob, and Janine, were sitting on the sofa in the teacher's lounge while Barbara and Melissa sat in their usual spot.

Janine suddenly stands up and squealed eagerly "check it out. There's a charity ball and we should all attend" Ava walks in unnoticed

It was Janine's idea to attend. She was scrolling through her phone and she saw her feed flooded by the news of the upcoming event. One or the only best idea she's ever had. But Ava heard it "Oh. I was just about to tell you that. We all should come. It'll be fun, seeing you all dressed up and looking nice tonight" she looks over at Gregory "looking forward to seeing you in a suit, young idris" she proceed to wink at him and look at the camera to give it a wink too.

Janine frowned "the ball is on Friday night. It's still Tuesday" Ava looked at her up and down with a pout on her face "that's literally what I said"

The bell rang signaling the end of lunch and everyone dispersed. Everyone went to get their kids or went right to their classroom. Ava went to her office and open her laptop checking the charity ball Janine was talking about.

She saw the poster and the slogan. She thinks its well made, pretty, and inviting. She didn't read all the details and just skimmed it for the date and the theme. She didn't see your name on it, she didn't know you were one of the hosts.

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The night of the charity ball have arrived.

Everyone looks elegant. People converse with each other while waiting for the hosts to start the event.

After a minutes of waiting for others to arrive you decided to kick start the event so you walk up the stage and tap the microphone, checking if its on or working.

You cleared your throat and speak loudly and clearly "Hello, Beautiful people. I just want to steal your attention for a brief moment. I am Y/N Y/L/N. I am one of your hosts tonight and I invited generous people whom you can ask for money and get the fund you needed for projects or supplies you want to have at your school. Let's get this party started, and oh- one more thing, don't be shy to ask for the stars. Have a good one everyone, we have an open bar."

Everyone applaud and cheers. A whoo and a whoop whoop here and there, high fives all around, and loud whistles.

Janine, Barbara, Melissa, Gregory, and Jacob walk towards you and surrounds you. They introduce themselves and the school they teach from. You shook each of their hands and you listen to their stories.

You were convinced you were going to help and donate at Abbott elementary. Not because of their sob stories but because the genuinity you feel coming off their vibes and the way they talk about the students. They truly love and care for them.

Another school steal your attention from them, so you excuse yourself to listen to the others and give them their chance.

When you were away from them, they noticed that someone was missing from their group. So they scan the area and they saw their boss, the principal of Abbot Elementary, Ava Coleman, is sitting in the open bar. They all decided to walk up to the open bar.

"I'm okay. No need to check on me" she said without turning her head to look at them. Melissa snorts and Barbara grinned "I'm just here to enjoy and get shit-faced, kid" Melissa replied. "It is an open bar after all" Barbara added.

After one too many drinks they told Ava to talk to you and use her charm on you, unaware of the past you shared, their convincing her to woo you, so you would help and donate to the school they all care for.

Ava did what she was told, convince that she should at least give it a try and that she'll lose nothing, anyway.

"What's up?" She nodded in your direction. You chuckled "we don't have to do this. You can just ignore me all you want. I assure you it won't affect my decision" she looks away from you so you look at her and for a moment you thought she was contemplating saying sorry, but alas, it was indeed just in your head "OK. Thanks hottie" she starts to walk away from you "You're welcome. Shawty" you shouted for her to hear, you know she heard you and she did, but she didn't look back or acknowledge your statement she just kept walking away from you, again.

"That was fast" Janine complimented which made Ava scoff, "Do you too know each other well?" Jacob asked and everyone turns their attention to Ava looking at her with anticipation "What?!" She said in a high pitched tone. Everyone looks at her accusingly, she sigh in defeat "She told me, I should just ignore her and that we don't have to do that. She's my ex." Everyone groans and are shocked with the revelation.

"We're never gonna get that donation, are we?" Melissa said to everyone and to herself "Let's just hope she's not petty or vain enough to stop helping us because our principal broke her heart" She added and scoffs

"No. She's cool. She said it won't affect her decision.-- How did you know it was me who broke her heart?" Ava replied "Aren't you?" Gregory asked, she just look at them one by one and order a stronger drink to get her through the night.

You walk up on stage a little tipsy "Hi, people. Is everyone having fun?" Everyone cheered and shouted "YEAH!" You smiled to yourself "well let me add to the fun your having. I have a surprise guest. Everyone give a round of applause to my friend, Kehlani!"

Most of them cheered and applauded, standing up from their seats and walking closer to the stage, and some are shocked and kept where they were when you made the announcement with their jaws almost hitting the floor.

"Thanks babe. Good evening to you all. Here's a song I think you all know, what you didn't know is that she help wrote it with us" kehlani said on the microphone and points at you.

It was dark for a moment and all the lights went out until the song started playing and the small stage light up.

.......Thought you was mine, but you decided to be with him though. You took my feelings and just threw 'em out the window.......On some nights like this, shawty, I can't help but think of us.......You gon' say you want me, then go switch it up

Just gon' play with my emotions just because, no.......All them times I played the fool for you. Thinking we could put it back together, thought we had forever. You never see my point of view.......

Since the song started everything became a blur, 'I might have way too many drink' you smiled at yourself and went to the bathroom to wash you face.

Ava saw you making your way to the bathroom and without thinking her body moved on its own and decided to follow you there to check up on you.

When you lift your face up from the sink after splashing water on your face you saw a figure standing behind you, you took a paper towel and gently wipe the water off your face. Your vision cleared and the figure behind you was ava staring at your reflection.

She crept a hand on your back to try to give you comfort planning to ask how are you, but you dismissed her "Don't" and you walk out the bathroom leaving Ava dumbfounded.

A few seconds later you came back barging in the bathroom door. You walk up to her, you are now standing face to face, "I told you to ignore me. Why are you here? What do you want?" You stated, your voice laced with anger "I didn't know you know Kehlani and that you help wrote that bop" Ava said, always talking without thinking, a quality you once greatly admire.

You were quite for a moment, "You want to meet her." You look down and nodded. You look her in the eye and sigh you were about to say 'okay' but she speak first "I want you. I miss you. I'm sorry." her eyes glistened and you could feel she's mustering courage for what she's about to do, then she kisses you softly and gently, but you are not reacting or moving so she pulls away from you.

A tear was about to fall on her eye but before it happened you grabbed her hips and pushed her against the wall. You linger, your lips centimeters away from hers, you moved your nose to her neck and inhaled her scent "you copied my perfume" the heat of your breath on her neck makes her blush and have goosebumps. You slide your nose up and down her neck, teasing her.

"Please" she beg, desperation evident in the way she said it. Her arms start to wrap around your waist but you didn't let her, you grabbed her arms and pushed it beside her, "I didn't tell you, you could touch me" you said then you slide your tongue on the pulse point on her neck

"Please. Please. I'm begging you, just do it" she said while she's catching her breath, she seems like she just finished a long run "do what?" You tease her more.

"F- Fuck. Fuck me. Please." Her breath hitches. You kiss her neck then bite her and leave a mark. She let out a moan but it was quickly Interrupted when you finally kissed her on her lips.

You lift her up and sat her on the sink. You smirk to yourself thinking where this is going to go.

You heard the doorknob rattled and quickly pulled away from Ava, you look in the mirror and try to fix your posture, she jumps down the sink to do the same. It was Barbara, she came to the bathroom to wash her hands.

"Barbara you're fired" Ava said jokingly, Barbara replied sarcastically "Sure. Dear"

Ava scans the bathroom looking for you, you already went out when you finished tidying yourself when you got Interrupted. She went out the bathroom when she didn't saw you, she scans the room and saw you slow dancing with someone.

You're dancing with the famous singer, your forehead clashing at each other while your arms are around her neck, and hers are around your waist, hands almost or actually touching your butt.

Ava stopped on her tracks when she saw you in somebody else's embrace. Her chest tightens and she's hurting. She gulped and tried hard to make her body move to the bar, and when she get there she ordered the strongest drink they could offer. She wants to spit it out and be disgusted but with the bitter drink, she also swallows the bitter truth. You were not hers anymore and she knows she's the reason why.

[romerona]

The Cook and The Teacher!

Let's pretend The Bear and Abbot Elementary are in the same city.

Another cute interaction between Carmen (Carmy) Berzatto x Abbot Teacher Femreader! Sunshinereader!

You sat at the table, doing your best to appear interested as your date droned on about his latest work achievements. Something about managing accounts, sealing big deals, and being “essential” to the success of his company. You’d lost track of the details five minutes in, your polite smile starting to feel like a workout for your face.

“…but you wouldn’t get that,” he said, waving his hand dismissively, like you were a child. “Teaching kids and all. It’s like... coloring books and snack time, right?”

Your smile faltered, and you tightened your grip on the stem of your wine glass, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. “Not quite. It’s actually pretty challenging—teaching is about shaping young minds, not just... crayons.”

“Sure, sure,” he said, nodding like he wasn’t really listening. “But you have to admit, it’s not exactly high stakes.” He leaned back in his chair, a smug grin stretching across his face. “I mean, no offense.”

“None taken,” you replied tightly, though the bile creeping up your neck said otherwise. You took a slow sip of your wine, hoping the glass might serve as a buffer between his words and your patience. Spoiler: it wasn’t working.

Inwardly, you cursed yourself for agreeing to this. What had Ava said when she pitched the idea? “Girl, you’re way too cute to be single and wasting away in that apartment of yours. You need to get out there. Shake things up. And this guy? Total catch—tall, successful, and probably rich. You’re welcome.”

At the time, it had seemed like a good idea. Ava’s relentless confidence had rubbed off on you, and the idea of putting yourself out there sounded... productive, if not promising. After all, your secret crush on your cute neighbor wasn’t going anywhere.

Carmy.

You couldn’t help but think about him as Ben prattled on about his “huge network.” Carmy was quiet, focused, and sweet in a way you didn’t think he realized. But he was also impossible to read. Sure, you’d had a few conversations here and there, shared a laugh or two, but he’d never made a move. You hadn’t either—paralyzed by the thought of misinterpreting things and embarrassing yourself.

Which is how you’d ended up here, with Ben. Wonderful, condescending Ben, who clearly thought your life’s work was a joke.

“And this place,” Ben said, gesturing around the restaurant with a smug grin. “Pretty great, right? Super exclusive. I know a guy who knows the chef here. Heard he’s like, a genius or something. Figured we’d go all out.”

You glanced around the dimly lit space, suddenly more aware of the upscale decor—the polished wood tables, the soft amber glow of the overhead lights, and the quiet hum of conversation that seemed to fill the air like music. It was... fancier than you’d expected.

The Bear.

You’d heard of it, of course—who hadn’t? It was one of those places people raved about, where getting a reservation was an accomplishment in itself. The kind of place where you know the food would be incredible, but the bill would make you question your life choices. Nice, but you were pretty sure you could only afford, like, a cup of water here.

Ben leaned in closer, grinning smugly. “This chef guy? Supposedly some kind of prodigy. I don’t know the details, but people say he’s a big deal. Good thing I’ve got connections, huh?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, noncommittal, as you glanced toward the bustling kitchen. A wave of heat and light spilled out from behind the pass, where you could just make out the shadowed figures of chefs moving in synchronized chaos.

As you sipped from your wine glass, trying to find something redeemable about Ben’s endless self-promotion, you wondered if maybe Ava had oversold this whole “dating adventure” thing.

Carmy spotted you the second you walked in.

He’d been at the pass, focused on plating an intricate dish—a delicate arrangement of seared scallops and edible flowers—when his gaze drifted toward the dining room. His hands paused mid-motion, a faint crease forming between his brows as he recognized you.

You were hard to miss, sitting near the window in a corner booth, your posture poised but just slightly tense. Dressed in something a little sleeker than usual, you looked... different. Not in a bad way—never in a bad way— Not that you ever looked anything less than beautiful, but tonight, something about you seemed… striking, enough that he found himself staring longer than he should’ve.

His eyes flicked to the guy sitting across from you. The guy who was laughing too loud, leaning back in his chair like he owned the place, gesturing with wild hands as he talked. You, on the other hand, wore a polite smile that didn’t quite light up the room as it usually did.

Carmy’s jaw tightened. He wasn’t sure why the sight of you with someone else tugged at his chest the way it did, but it lingered, heavy and unwelcome.

It’s none of your business, he told himself, forcing his focus back to the dish in front of him. You weren’t his to worry about.

You weren’t his at all.

Still, his gaze flicked back toward your table, almost involuntarily, catching the way your date seemed oblivious to your discomfort. Carmy’s stomach twisted at the thought. He didn’t know what he expected—maybe for the guy to notice the way you played with your napkin or to tone down his boisterous tone—but it wasn’t this.

“Chef?” Sydney’s voice broke his focus, sharp but professional.

“Yeah,” he muttered, snapping back to reality. His eyes returned to the plate in front of him, the arrangement now slightly skewed from his distraction. He adjusted it quickly, his movements precise but tighter than usual. “Thanks, Chef.”

As Sydney moved on, Carmy risked one last glance at you. The corner booth, the dim lighting, the guy who couldn’t seem to shut up—it all felt wrong. But he pushed it down, buried it under the quiet rhythm of the kitchen, telling himself it wasn’t his place to care.

And yet, he did.

He cared enough to, like some kind of creep, step out of the kitchen and hover near the hallway that led to the restrooms. It wasn’t a plan—not really. He told himself he just needed a breather, a moment to clear his head and shake off the knot in his chest. But he wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all himself.

The low hum of the restaurant buzzed in his ears as he leaned against the wall, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. He didn’t even know what he’d say if you saw him. Maybe he’d play it off, and act like he just happened to be there. But then, what were the odds you’d even notice him? You were here with someone else, after all.

It was ridiculous, he knew that—irrational even— he should go back, really what the fuck was he thinking--

But the sound of heels clicking softly against the floor pulled him from his spiralling thoughts. His breath hitched as you turned the corner, and your expression turned to one of shock when you spotted him.

“Carmy?” you said, stopping mid-step. Your voice carried a note of surprise, but there was something else there too—curiosity, maybe, or even relief at seeing a familiar face in such an unfamiliar situation.

“Hey,” he said, standing a little straighter, as if he hadn’t just been loitering near the hallway like a guilty teenager. He cleared his throat, trying to play it cool. “Didn’t think I’d see you here.”

You blinked, your eyes flicking over his clothes—the crisp white uniform. The realization dawned on you, and your brows lifted in surprise.

“You work here?”

“Yeah,” he said, shifting his weight slightly. “I, uh... I own it.”

Your eyes widened, and you couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped you. “You own it?”

“Yeah,” he said again, a bit softer this time. His lips twitched into a faint, almost sheepish smile. “I started it a while back. Kind of… a long story.”

You took a moment to process this revelation, glancing around the restaurant as if seeing it in a new light. The warm lighting, the carefully plated dishes you’d glimpsed on their way to other tables—it all made sense now. Of course, this was Carmy’s place. It was thoughtful, deliberate, but somehow unpretentious.

“Wow,” you said, meeting his gaze again. “That’s... impressive.”

Carmy shrugged, his hands slipping into his pockets. “It’s just work. Nothing fancy.”

“Nothing fancy?” you repeated, a small laugh escaping as you gestured toward the elegant decor. “Carmy, this place is gorgeous. You’re way too modest.”

"Thanks," His lips twitched into a faint smile, but his eyes lingered on you, searching before he added, “You didn’t look like you were having a great time out there.”

You blinked at the sudden change in topic, your surprise melting into something closer to embarrassment.

“Oh,” you said, glancing toward the dining room before meeting his gaze again. “Yeah, it’s... it’s a date.”

Carmy’s jaw tightened imperceptibly, though his expression didn’t waver.

“Figured,” he muttered, his voice steady but low.

“Not a great one,” you admitted, your lips quirking into a dry smile. “Blind date, courtesy of Ava. It’s... fine, I guess. He’s just... not my type.”

Carmy raised an eyebrow, his curiosity getting the better of him. “What’s your type, then?”

The question caught you off guard, your breath hitching slightly as his words hung in the air. You laughed softly, deflecting. “I don’t know. Someone who doesn’t treat teaching like it’s a hobby or call it a job anyone can do.”

His lips twitched into a faint smirk, and he shook his head in disbelief. “He did not say that.”

You groaned dramatically, closing your eyes as if the memory physically pained you. “Oh, but he did. Word for word, and I quote: ‘Teaching is important, I guess. But it’s gotta be, like… easy, right? Summers off, finger painting, all that?’ And then—then!—he laughed. Like he’d just unlocked the secret to stand-up comedy.”

Carmy blinked, his smirk fading into something closer to incredulity. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish I were,” you said, sighing dramatically. “You’d think he was trying out his Type Five for open mic night. And the pièce de résistance? He throws in the classic ‘no offense.’ Like that’s a verbal Ctrl+Z or something.”

That earned a real laugh from Carmy this time, his shoulders shaking slightly as he shook his head. “What the hell? So, this is what you’re dealing with?”

“Oh, but I’m thriving,” you replied, your tone dripping with sarcasm waving your hand dismissively. “Peak romantic energy. Nothing like being told my career is a glorified arts-and-crafts workshop to really get the sparks flying.”

Carmy leaned slightly against the wall, crossing his arms as he listened. His expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—irritation, maybe, or quiet disbelief. “And you’re still out there?”

“Excellent question, Chef Carmy,” you said, pointing at him with mock gravity. “I think it’s a mix of morbid curiosity, sheer stubbornness, and maybe a touch of guilt. I mean, he did spring for the wine. Even if he did refer to it as a ‘top-shelf pour.’”

That made Carmy snort, his head dropping slightly as he tried to compose himself. “Top-shelf pour, huh? Sounds like a real charmer.”

You laughed softly, though there was a bite of bitterness in it. “Oh, totally. It’s been a real dream date. Honestly, if he makes one more crack about teaching being ‘easy,’ I might just—” You mimed strangling someone, your hands curling dramatically as you added a mock growl for effect.

Carmy chuckled, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “I’d pay to see that.”

“Don’t tempt me,” you shot back, your grin sharpening. “It might get me out of this date, but I’m pretty sure assault charges aren’t a great look for me.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Fair point.”

Your playful energy dimmed slightly as you glanced toward the dining room. “Anyway, I should probably get back out there before he starts mansplaining the wine list to the waitress. Again.”

Carmy’s lips twitched as if he wanted to laugh, but instead, he straightened up quickly, the weight of his role as head chef settling back onto his shoulders. “Yeah, I should... head back to the kitchen too. Got a lot to wrap up tonight.”

You turned back to him, your expression softening. “Thanks, by the way,” you said, holding his gaze. “For... checking in, I guess. You didn’t have to do that.”

He shrugged a gesture that looked casual but felt like it carried more weight. His voice dropped slightly as he replied, “Yeah, I did.”

The words hung there for a beat, his meaning lingering just beneath the surface as the two of you locked eyes. The air between you felt heavy, almost tangible, like a thread being pulled taut. You wanted to say something—anything. Maybe a joke to break the tension, or maybe the truth: that you liked him, that you wished it was him sitting across from you tonight, making you laugh instead of testing your patience.

Unbeknownst to you, Carmy’s thoughts ran dangerously close to yours. He’d been replaying every interaction with you since the day you moved in next door, every laugh, every casual smile. The thought of you with someone else—someone who didn’t seem to notice the little things about you the way he did—made his chest tighten in ways he couldn’t explain.

But before either of you could give voice to the thoughts swirling in your heads, the faint sound of your date’s voice carried through the hallway, breaking the moment like a needle scratching across a record. You winced slightly, the weight of reality pulling you back.

“Ugh. That’s my cue,” you said, shooting Carmy an exaggerated grimace. “Duty calls.”

Carmy nodded, his expression carefully neutral, though the flicker in his eyes betrayed the emotions he was trying to keep in check. “Good luck out there.”

“Thanks,” you said with a wry grin. “I’ll need it.”

Despite his words, his gaze lingered on yours, as if searching for something unspoken. For a moment, you thought maybe—maybe—he’d say something more, but instead, he stepped back, the faintest of smiles tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“See you around,” he said, his voice quieter now.

“Yeah,” you replied softly, your heart squeezing as you turned to head back toward the dining room. “See you around.”

As you walked away, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were leaving something unfinished behind. And Carmy, watching you go, felt much the same, his hands flexing at his sides as he fought the urge to call after you.

When he finally turned back toward the kitchen, his jaw tightened, the moment still playing over in his mind. He rubbed the back of his neck, willing himself to focus as he pushed open the swinging door. The familiar clatter and hum of the kitchen greeted him, but it did little to drown out the thoughts circling his head.

He barely made it three steps before Richie appeared, leaning casually against the counter with his signature smirk firmly in place.

“Well, well, look who finally decided to grace us with his presence,” Richie drawled, crossing his arms. “What’s the matter, Cousin? Lose track of time out there? Or were you too busy making googly eyes at the customer? Can't blame you thought, she's gorgeous.”

Carmy’s jaw ticked, his shoulders stiffening. “Shut up, Richie.”

--------

Your date’s voice droned on, a monotonous background noise to your growing sense of regret. Why had you agreed to this? Why hadn’t you just stayed home with a glass of wine and a good book?

Just as you were contemplating an excuse to leave—feigning a sudden headache, maybe, or an urgent call from a friend—a waiter approached your table. It wasn’t the same one who had been serving you throughout the evening, but an older guy with an easy smile and a glimmering of mischief in his eyes carrying a small plate in hand. The plate held an assortment of beautifully arranged pastries, each one delicate and intricate, like a tiny work of art.

“Oh, I didn’t order this,” you said, your brow furrowing as you looked up at him.

“It’s from the chef,” the waiter replied, his tone polite but with a glimmer of something knowing in his eyes.

Your eyes widened slightly, your breath catching as you glanced instinctively toward the kitchen pass. Sure enough, Carmy was there, leaning slightly against the counter, his arms crossed. His expression was unreadable, but there was a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, and his gaze was fixed squarely on you.

Your heart gave a little jolt, heat creeping up your neck as you turned back to the table.

Your date, meanwhile, was entirely oblivious to the silent exchange. He grinned widely, puffing out his chest a little as he gestured to the plate. “See? Told you this place was top-notch. They must’ve recognized me. Perks of being a regular.”

It took everything in you not to burst out laughing. Instead, you bit back your amusement, your lips twitching into a barely restrained smile as you reached for one of the pastries.

“Right,” you said lightly, turning the pastry over in your hand. “Must be your VIP status.”

As you took a bite, the pastry practically melted in your mouth, a perfect blend of buttery richness and delicate sweetness. It was so good it almost made you forget the company you were keeping—almost.

“You know, this kind of attention doesn’t happen just anywhere. It’s all about knowing the right people.”

“Mmm,” you murmured, taking a bite of one of the delicate confections. It melted in your mouth, rich and buttery, with just the right amount of sweetness.

When you glanced back toward the pass, Carmy was already gone, disappearing back into the kitchen as seamlessly as he’d appeared. But his gesture lingered, wrapping around you like a quiet reassurance, a small thread of comfort in an otherwise unbearable evening.

And for the first time that night, your smile wasn’t forced.

A/N: Heyyy I hope you enjoyed it. Thank you to all those people who comment, like and reblog. Like fr you all make my week. Always looking for some ideas so please feel free to ask.

Also, please tell me if you want to be tagged. Be safe out there, please the world is too crazy at the moment. <3

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@hiitsmebbygrl16 @urthem00n @svzwriting29 @tyferbebe

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Next part 7

[schemmentigfs]

Under Her Nose. (part 1.)

Summary: Melissa and you are on a situationship for weeks, but none of you dare to share this secret with anyone. The problem is? Ava Coleman, your sister would disapprove your relationship with the fiery redhead.

WC: 5.59k.

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

Warnings: mentions of sex.

big shout-out to the beautiful @cowboykya for helping me to keep this idea. 🩷

Fate was treacherous, unpredictable, playing tricks on anyone. But you never expected to feel this way about Melissa Schemmenti.

When you started teaching at Abbott Elementary, after your sister practically got you the job, insisting that you should work at her school and not Addington Elementary because, according to her, you were too cool for their rich, systematic bunch in those better, private conditions. She seemed like the last person you would get close to. Her practical attitude, her sarcasm, the way she always seemed a little irritated. All of that made her seem untouchable. Even intimidating, at times. But there was something about her that drew you in. Maybe it was her humor, sharp and quick, or the way she cared so deeply for her students and close colleagues, even though she acted like she didn’t care at all.

The redheaded woman had always been a difficult person to describe, especially when compared to most of the staff.

While the other teachers were full of enthusiasm and wanted to save the world with a daily dose of positivity to avoid a nervous breakdown, the second-grade teacher was more concerned with making sure things worked at the most basic level. She wasn’t there to give fake smiles or be the favorite of her little eagles– she was there because she believed that, even in the broken public education system, she could make a real difference for the few students who could look beyond her tough exterior and see who she really was.

Unlike Janine Teagues, who had a dreamy approach and always tried to make every moment a teaching opportunity filled with possibilities, her grade partner was practical, almost merciless at times, but genuine. She wasn’t interested in miraculous transformations. Her constant sarcasm, her straightforward way of speaking, and her fight or fight mantra were a defense mechanism, but also a way to cut through everyone’s BS. When she spoke, it was with an unmistakable tone of authority, and it wasn’t hard to tell she was used to being the one who stands firm, even when everyone around her is vulnerable or desperately trying to please.

Melissa was also, by far, the most annoying and least emotional of the bunch, which, somehow, only made her presence more powerful. She wasn’t afraid to openly criticize someone if she thought they were wasting time or, worse, being ineffective— something she certainly hated. But behind her tough facade, there was an unwavering loyalty to those who were really on her side, something that wasn’t easy to earn.

She wasn’t there to make friends, but she wasn’t willing to distance herself from those who truly mattered either. The words “compassion” and “care” weren’t used lightly by her, but when she cared, you felt it. She was the type of person who would do the unthinkable to protect those who, in some way, were in her orbit. That made her more unique, harder to understand – and, for that reason, more fascinating.

Compared to the others, she was a storm, full of intense and unsettling energy, something much more complicated than any of the cheerier or more inspiring facets of the other team members. And, paradoxically, it was this complexity that made someone like you feel drawn to her.

It had started as simple curiosity. You’d heard plenty of stories about her from Ava, most of them exaggerated, of course. She loved to poke fun at Melissa Schemmenti, often calling her Ms. Tough Guy or The Abbott Enforcer, always with a mischievous grin. And that grew even more often with their newfound friendship after the small heist at the visit to Girard Creek Golf Course, maybe they weren't so different at all. But when you actually started working alongside your current situationship, you realized that those stories didn’t do her justice at all. Never did.

There was a depth to her that your older sister never mentioned. The way she’d stay late to make sure her classroom was perfect for the next day. The way she’d show up after a Philadelphia Eagles win. The way she’d give the students in her class little pep talks when she thought no one was listening. The way she’d call out nonsense in staff meetings but somehow still manage to sound extremely professional.

At first, you only admired her from afar. She was just some random colleague — sure, one you couldn’t stop thinking about, but still, a colleague. Part of the reason you always kept some distance was Ava. Your older sister had an imposing presence, and her overly protective stance made it impossible for anything to escape her radar. To her, you were the helpless little sister, the one the world kept trying to bring down — even though, most of the time, you insisted you could take care of yourself.

Ava never hesitated to push away anyone she considered a threat to you. When you were younger, that meant crashing parties to get you out if she thought the environment wasn’t safe. Later, it meant monitoring your relationships, intimidating any suitor with her sharp gaze, and even showing up at your old job to “check on how things were going.” You knew that, behind all that chaotic energy, there was an unconditional love. But you also knew she’d never stand by if she suspected someone was breaking your heart.

Maybe that’s why you never got too close to the other teachers. Jacob was too friendly, always trying to start conversations about some obscure documentary you wouldn’t watch even if paid. Janine, with her overflowing energy, made you feel even more out of place, as if every interaction required an excessive effort. Gregory was polite but distant — and you knew Ava had a sixth sense for spotting “awkward guys,” as she called them. As for Barbara… well, she was a legend, and you never wanted to risk looking foolish in front of her.

So, you contented yourself with staying in the shadows, doing your job without drawing much attention. At least until Melissa Schemmenti.

The green-eyed woman was different. And, no matter how hard you tried to ignore it, there was something about her that pulled you closer. That blunt attitude, the raspy laugh that echoed down the hallways, the intense glances she’d throw over her various pairs of glasses when someone said something particularly stupid. It was impossible not to notice. And worse, it was impossible not to want more.

But, of course, there was Principal Coleman. And just the thought of what your sister would do if she found out you were interested in the most feared teacher at the school was enough to keep you in line. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself. It was during that staff meeting that everything changed.

In the long development week, being the lovely and helpful principal that she was, Ava was monotonously talking about another poorly executed initiative, her excited voice echoing off the walls in that sing-song tone she used when she knew no one was listening. Janine sat at the edge of her chair, forcing a polite smile and nodding enthusiastically in an attempt to seem engaged, even though her big eyes occasionally darted toward the door. Jacob was fiddling with his pen, aimlessly doodling on the margins of his notebook, clearly trying to stay awake. Barb reclined with her arms crossed, her expression exuding mild disapproval and resignation, while Gregory kept glancing at the clock, letting out a subtle sigh every few seconds, his boredom clearly etched on his face.

The other staff members just remained silent.

“Ava,” Janine said after a while, running her hand through her curls. “Look, your proposal is reasonable. But we can’t afford this!”

“Shut up,” your older sister huffed, walking over to the projector to make a PowerPoint presentation about her planning for new posts on Instagram.

“God bless that O’shon, poor kid,” Mr. Johnson muttered to himself, looking at the cameras. “Or that Crystal Rilley.”

The mention of the rival made Ava freeze.

“Mr. J, how dare you mention that bitch’s name? We shouldn’t even speak it! It’s like any Christian wouldn’t dare mention Satan’s name.”

Mrs. Howard jumped out of her seat in an instant, looking offended. “Excuse me?”

“Uh. Sorry?” The principal shot back.

You were sitting on the other side of the room from the redhaired woman, half paying attention, when you caught her rolling her beautiful green eyes. Without thinking, you stared at her and murmured.

“This is a waste of time, don't you think?”

Her plump lips curled into a shy smile before she quickly averted her gaze, not bothering to give you a single response, but at that moment, something clicked. It was as if you'd unlocked a secret part of her, a part she didn't show everyone. After that, you couldn’t stop noticing her, or the way Melissa Schemmenti started noticing you back.

At first, it was in the little things. The way she lingered just a second longer in the hall if you were there. The way her sharp responses softened when they were directed at you, the edges of her voice rounded with something you couldn’t name. The way her eyes would find yours during faculty meetings, as if she were looking for an ally in the sea of chaos that Ava always seemed to create.

“Another motivational poster initiative?” you asked quietly one afternoon, glancing at the second-grade teacher across the room during a PTA meeting. “What's next, a dance competition to inspire better test scores?”

Melissa turned her head slightly, pretending to adjust the papers in front of her. “Careful, rookie,”she whispered loud enough for you to hear. “Your sister might actually pick up that idea and run with it.”

You suppressed a laugh, her green eyes sparkling with amusement as she caught your reaction. It felt like a game that only the two of you were playing, a quiet rebellion against the absurdity of the daily grind that seemed to infect that building.

The first time you really had a conversation alone with her was after school one day. You were staying late to reorganize your classroom, frustrated with the mess your students had managed to create. Melissa walked in, probably looking for something—likely her stapler, which seemed to disappear weekly.

“You’re still here, Y/N?” she asked, leaning against the door with her arms crossed.

“Apparently, my fourth graders are aspiring tornadoes,” you replied, holding up a crumpled worksheet you found shoved inside a desk. “This is my life now.”

The older woman laughed, walking in. “Fourth grade, huh? You’ve got the sweet spot. Too old to be clingy, too young to be chatty.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You think that's the sweet spot? Yesterday, a kid tried to trade homework for a pack of gum.”

Her laughter came easily this time, and the sound sent a shiver down your spine. “Okay, fair enough. But at least they’re creative. My second-graders think spelling their names correctly deserves a gold star.”

You smiled. “I’d trade you any day.”

Melissa tilted her head, her gaze lingering just a moment longer. “Careful what you wish for, rookie. You might not survive a day with my kids.”

The friendship between you two grew slowly, like a secret entrusted to the wind. There wasn’t a specific moment when you realized she had become an essential part of your life—it was like the golden light streaming through the blinds in the morning, coming without warning but filling everything with warmth.

At first, the older woman was just the stubborn colleague who always knew how to have the last word. You argued more than you talked, each of you determined to prove your point, until one day, laughter won. It was during yet another endless school meeting, when you made a whispered joke about the broken coffee machine, and Melissa, without even trying to hide it, let out a laugh—a rough, authentic sound, as if it had come from a place she didn’t open up to often. From there, everything changed.

The green eyed woman started stopping by your classroom after hours, sometimes just to complain about the school’s awful coffee, other times to share some hallway gossip. You found a rhythm in your interactions, a silent dance of teasing and camaraderie. And then, without realizing it, you became her safe place.

The first time she really spoke about herself was on a gray day, the smell of rain still hanging in the air. You were sitting in the parking lot, on the concrete steps, sharing a cigarette she pulled from her pocket as if offering a secret. The smoke rose between you two, creating an ephemeral veil that made everything feel more intimate.

“Ma used to say cigarettes were for weak men,” Melissa said, with a half-smile that was bitter. “But after Joseph left home, well... Weak or not, here I am.”

It was the first time she mentioned the divorce. The word hung in the air, heavy and inevitable. She didn’t cry. The second-grade teacher was never one for easy tears. But the way her shoulders dropped slightly revealed the weight she carried. She talked about the marriage, how Joe’s laughter had become rarer, until the silent house became unbearable. She spoke of the muffled arguments behind closed doors and the nights when sleep wouldn’t come, even after another cigarette smoked to the filter.

“Teresa?” your coworker continued, taking a deep drag. “Oh, she loved being right. She said if I’d listened to my famiglia, I wouldn’t have ended up like this.”

There was bitterness in her voice, but also a kind of acceptance. You didn’t interrupt. You just listened. And that’s how she went on, unraveling the knots of her own story—the childhood surrounded by traditions that allowed no room for deviation, the prayers murmured in Italian in the kitchen, the smell of tomato sauce that always seemed to linger in the air. The older Schemmenti grew up with Catholic faith as a tight cord around her chest, learning far too early to confuse guilt with devotion.

“Not that I go to church much anymore,” she confessed, blowing out the smoke with a sigh. “But sometimes, I light a candle. I think candles understand us more than priests.”

And then, as if needing to lift the weight of the moment, Melissa laughed. That half-smile laugh you’d come to know so well.

“Oh, and there’s another faith I take seriously. The firefighters from South Philly. Those arms? Those pants? My Holy Mother.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And you say this... from personal experience?”

Melissa leaned back on the step, a cigarette dangling from the corner of her mouth, narrowing her eyes as if she was about to share a forbidden secret. “Listen, I’ve had sex with a lot of beautiful women in my life, but this firefighter… Madonna mia. She looked like Halle Berry.”

She made an exaggerated gesture with her hands, as if she had to draw the perfection.

“Yeah?”

“Mmm. Dark skin, soft as hell, you know? Like silk. Short curly hair, and those eyes…” Melissa sighed, tilting her head as if reliving the scene. “Brown, deep, like dark honey under the light. And the body?” She laughed, shaking her head. “The definition of hot. Strong arms, thighs that could crush a man without effort, and that posture of someone who knows she can carry you if she wants.”

She took a deep drag and released the smoke slowly, a lazy smile on her lips.

“She was in uniform that night, straight off her shift. The tight tank top, the pants low on her hips… Jesus Christ. I saw that woman and thought: ‘If I die in a fire, I hope I get to ride on that strap first.”

You couldn’t help but feel a hint of jealousy, and your cheeks warmed with her words.

The redhead laughed again, mischievous, and shot you a suggestive look. “And let me tell you... She knew how to use those hands for much more than just holding a hose.”

You laughed with her, the kind of laugh that understood. Because that's how Melissa was, intense, contradictory, absurdly alive. She spoke with the same passion about family traumas and about her most mundane pleasures. And when she mentioned her unwavering love for Real Housewives, gesturing with fervor to defend her favorite cast members, you realized how much you loved that about her.

She was never someone easily surprised. But when the name Chappell Roan first came up in casual conversation, something in her expression changed. She was sitting on the couch, a beer in hand and a slight look of disdain, until Pink Pony Club echoed from the TV. Suddenly, the way she adjusted herself, how her gaze focused on the screen, how her fingers gripped the bottle just a little tighter, made it clear: here was a genuine passion.

Being her friend was like holding a lit match. She burned with anger, with desire, with sharp humor and still, you couldn't pull away. Because, even with all the ashes, she was warmth. She was presence. And now, she was your one of your best friends.

The flirting between you started unnamed, with no declared intention, like a fire born from discreet sparks. At first, it was just the lingering glances that were too long to be casual, a touch of fingers that lasted a second longer than necessary when passing papers to each other.

But then came the provocations. The biting comments disguised as jokes, the way the redhead smiled crookedly after making some sharp remark, just to see if you'd react in kind. And you did.

You challenged each other in small things, exchanged veiled insinuations in the middle of common conversations, until the air between you became thick, heavy with something unspoken but undeniably present. And when she leaned against your shoulder while laughing, or when her voice dropped to a lower, almost conspiratorial tone, your whole body seemed to recognize what your mind was still pretending not to know: you were dangerously close to crossing a line.

The first time she kissed you, it was as if gravity had shifted, as if the world’s axis tilted just to remind you that, until that moment, you hadn't known what it truly meant to be alive.

Willard R Abbott was empty at that hour, the hallways bathed in pale light flickering from the old lamps, humming in a near-complicit silence. You and Melissa had been there for a while, discussing something trivial — maybe a detail about the fundraiser, but at that moment, none of the words seemed to matter. Everything dissolved when you noticed the way she looked at you, her green eyes less intense than usual, softer, as if she hesitated to hide something that was already beyond control.

Then, without warning, without space for you to anticipate, her lips touched yours. It was a moment of heat and dizziness, a contained hurricane in the narrow space between your two bodies. Your situationship pulled away too quickly, and in the startled gleam of her gaze, there was surprise, there was fear — but, above all, there was an undeniable desire to not undo what had just happened. And you felt the same. No regrets. No doubts.

The first time you both gave in to desire after the kiss, it was as if the whole world disappeared, as if everything around you became a blur, irrelevant in the face of the intensity of what was happening. There was no rush. Nothing seemed urgent. On the contrary, each second was lived with an unsettling calm, as if the universe knew that this moment was unique.

You were at her place, on a warm summer night. The air was thick, scented with earth and streetlights filtering through the window, casting a soft glow. The atmosphere was tense, laden with a silent expectation that filled the space between you. The leather couch in the corner of the room seemed to be the only safe place in that moment, as words began to fade, replaced by ragged breathing and gazes loaded with desire.

She touched your face with a softness that contrasted with the intensity of the moment. Your bodies were so close that the fine line between friendship and something more seemed to disappear. She was the one to break the silence first, her hands searching for yours, and when your fingers intertwined, it was as if the rest of the world stopped spinning.

The kiss was different this time, deeper, more urgent, as if all the promises made in that previous exchange of lips now needed to be fulfilled. Melissa Schemmenti’s taste was stronger, more urgent. Something between the cigarette and the perfume she wore, and you lost yourself in it, in that kiss that seemed to consume both of you. Her hands traveled across your body, exploring carefully and yet with the certainty of someone who knew what they wanted.

The moment was hot, unhurried, but also without shame. When your bodies finally fused together, there was something unusual in the way you felt with her, as if, in that act, you were more exposed than just physically. She, with her gentle touches, seemed to know exactly where to touch, how to make you feel desired, and you, in turn, knew how to give yourself up without fear. The sex wasn't just physical, it was a silent conversation between the two of you, a dialogue without words, where everything was said through gestures and sighs.

The encounters between you, now, were casual, but always tinged with a palpable tension, as if you were getting to know each other in every gesture, in every look. There was no commitment — at least, not on the surface. They appeared out of nowhere, a phone call to grab coffee, a trip to the movies, or even a nighttime walk through Center City Philadelphia. Each of these encounters felt like a small escape from reality, a space where the rules of the outside world didn't apply.

Weeks passed, but the weight of that secret only seemed to grow. Every exchange of glances with Melissa was a careful dance, a game of disguises where the smallest slip could expose what you were trying to hide. You found yourself caught in the details — the way she moistens her lips before speaking, the way her fingers nervously drummed against the wood of the table when she was lost in thought. Everything about her was an invitation to daydream. And still, fear loomed over you both like a storm waiting to strike.

Ava Coleman wasn’t stupid. Your sister had a nearly cruel talent for sniffing out secrets. She would throw jabs disguised as jokes, each comment laced with suspicion.

“You and Schemmenti have been... coincidentally spending a lot of time together, don't you think?”she once said, with a sly smile, as if she were just having fun.

You giggled, a fragile and empty sound. But the truth was, every word of hers pierced your chest. The fear of being discovered clung to your skin, like a second layer of guilt.

That Wednesday, the restlessness was unbearable. The empty classroom seemed smaller with each step you took, the creaking of the old floorboards accompanying your impatience. Your situationship hadn’t sought you out all day. No furtive glances in the hallways, no hidden touches. The emptiness of her absence was almost physical.

You knew you shouldn't expect anything. You understood the weight she carried, the walls she’d built to protect herself. But it was hard. Hard to hold back the desire for more from her, more stolen moments, more honesty. You wanted her in her entirety, not just in the shadows.

When you finally saw her, the twilight had already tinged the sky with copper hues. She came out of the building with quick steps, her head down, as if the very air around her was a risk. You called out to her.

“Babe,” you sighed heavily.

She didn’t respond. She didn't slow her pace, didn't look back. And that indifference, even if perhaps feigned, cut deep.

Later, back at your small apartment complex, silence became your only companion. The cold light from your laptop screen illuminated your face as you tried to correct papers. But the students’s words were just disconnected scribbles. Your mind was far away, trapped in the memory of Melissa Schemmenti. The sound of her laugh echoed in the most secret corners of your memory, along with the sensation of her touch on your skin.

You wondered what she was doing at that moment. If she was thinking of you too. Or if, perhaps, she was trying to forget.

A message. It was the least you could do. Something simple, discreet, without revealing the turmoil inside you.

You: I hope you’re doing well.

The response didn’t come. The screen remained dark and silent, as if the universe itself conspired to prolong your anxiety.

Each minute without a reply was a blow. The emptiness screamed louder than any word. You hated yourself for it. For depending so much on her. For wanting something you weren’t sure you could have.

When the phone finally vibrated, the subtle sound reverberated through the apartment. Your heart skipped, as if that small tremor was a whisper of hope. Your hands trembled as you picked up the device, the reflection of the illuminated screen dancing in your eyes.

And there it was. A message.

Red: Can we talk? Tomorrow after work? At your place? Jacob is bringing that Elijah over and I don’t wanna hear him on my roof again.

With trembling fingers, you typed out a response.

Of course. See you then.

You set the phone aside, leaned back on the couch, and closed your eyes. Tomorrow. You would talk tomorrow. Maybe then, you’d finally figure out where this was going, or if it was even going anywhere.

But this wasn’t easy for Melissa either.

Behind the sharp words and crooked smiles, Melissa Ann Catarina Schemmenti hid a soul accustomed to control. She was the kind of woman who balanced the chaos of a second-grade classroom with the finesse of someone who knew exactly how to tame storms. The friend who always had a quick response, ready to defend those she loved. The woman who never let others see when she was trembling inside. But with you, everything felt different. You were the anomaly, the exception.

She wasn’t proud of the way she'd avoided you today. How her steps quickened the moment she spotted you in the hallway, how she sought refuge by the vending machine, pretending to study the options just to make sure you were gone. Every glance dodged, every hurried step away only made the ache in her chest grow stronger. Running wasn't her style. But there she was — running from what she wanted most.

And the worst part? It was you. Ava Coleman's younger sister. Ava, who thrived in chaos as though it were an endless source of energy. The principal who turned every conversation into a grand performance and every secret into a scandal fit for a soap opera. Melissa couldn't even begin to imagine the storm that would follow if her boss ever found out about the two of you. It would be an inferno of unimaginable proportions.

Still, every time the green eyed woman tried to convince you to end it — to stop before it was too late — something held her back. Because you weren't just her boss’s sister. You were you. She hated how much she thought about you. The sound of your laughter lingered in her mind long after you'd left. The way your eyes held hers, as if you could see the very things she tried so hard to hide. She hated the insatiable urge to tell you everything, to tear down the walls she'd built over the years. But what if you saw too much? What if you uncovered the parts of her that no one else knew and decided she wasn't worth staying for?

The fear was always there, lurking beneath the surface. Fear of not being enough. Fear of being too much. Fear of opening the door and finding only emptiness on the other side. Uncertainty was unfamiliar ground for her, and you were a whirlwind, daring her to lose herself in the eye of the storm.

The Sicilian had never been friends with uncertainty. She liked things as they were: organized, predictable, manageable. She sought solidity, a clear structure amid the chaos. But you? You were fire in its purest form — untamed, insatiable. A spark that set everything ablaze and made her forget how dangerous it was to get too close. And yet, she did. Every time. Because there was nothing about you that could be ignored.

No, this wasn't easy for her. Not even close.

When Melissa crossed the threshold of her home, a heavy sigh escaped her lips. The air inside was still, as if the very walls could sense the weight she carried. Her bag slipped from her shoulder and hit the floor with a dull thud. But even without its small burden, the true weight remained, stubborn and unrelenting. She needed to talk, to unload the turmoil that swirled within her. And who else, besides Jacob, could listen without judgment?

He was the only one who could know. The only one who could understood.

Barbara? No. The memory of last time still stung. That CPR class had been a cruel reminder that keeping secrets from her best friend was like betraying a part of herself. But now, Melissa felt she had no other choice. This was too big, too absurd. How could she explain something so irrational without sounding like a woman lost in her own feelings?

The living room was cloaked in a soft, dim glow, with only the bluish light of the television pulsing against the walls. One Punch Man played in the background, as it often did during Jacob’s quiet evenings. He was there, sunk into the worn plastic-covered couch, eyes lazily scanning his phone. Probably reading another history article. The comfort of old words seemed to be his way of escaping the world.

The redhead woman envied him for a fleeting moment. He could lose himself in the noise, let the endless stream of information carry him away. But her? She never knew how to do that. Even in silence, her mind never found peace.

“Hey, man,” she greeted her roommate, trying to sound casual, even though her heart was pounding.

Jacob looked up from his smartphone, raising an eyebrow. “Mel. Didn’t see you at the lounge today. Long day?”

“You have no idea,” she muttered, sliding onto the plastic couch beside him. She rubbed her temples, trying to calm her racing thoughts.

“So... I’m guessing it’s not just the usual school stress you’re dealing with?” the young boy asked, his voice gentle but laced with concern. He had a way of reading his work mom, seeing right through the tough exterior she worked so hard to maintain. And for some reason, she trusted him with things she couldn’t trust anyone else with.

She chuckled bitterly. “You could say that.”

Jacob turned his body to face her fully, setting his phone down and giving her his undivided attention. Melissa could feel the weight of his stare, like he was waiting for her to spill everything.

“I’m seeing someone,” she said quietly, biting her nails.

He blinked in surprise. “Wait. Who? Another firefighter or the guy from the hot tub?”

Melissa let out a frustrated breath, sinking into the couch. “No! We don’t talk about those mistakes on this house! Y/N.”

Jacob’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You’re... seeing Y/N. The same who is the fourth grade teacher and Ava’s sister? The one you’ve been saying is a rookie for the past year?” He let out a small laugh, clearly trying to process what she’d just said. “This is... something else, Mel Mel. You sure about this? I didn’t know you were into women!”

The green eyed woman rubbed her hands over her face. “I am bisexual, you prick. And for the record, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. It’s just...everything’s different when I’m with her. But it’s complicated. We can’t tell no one, J. If anyone finds out, it’ll be a disaster. Coleman will kill me. And I don’t know what to do with all of this. It feels like I’m walking on a damn tightrope.”

“I never saw you so scared about a relationship,” he bites the inside of his cheek. “It looks like you are about to crack.”

Melissa rolled her eyes, trying to sound confident, though she wasn’t sure she believed it herself.

“I’m not gonna crack. But it’s just... I don’t know. It feels like one wrong move, and everything could blow up. She’s younger. I can’t—”

“I get it,” Jacob interrupted, putting a hand on her shoulder. “I get it, Mel. But just... don’t lose yourself in it, okay? Don’t let it become something you regret. Whatever happens, just promise me you’ll think it through. And if you need to talk, you know where I am.”

She looked at him, her heart heavy with gratitude. “Thanks, J. Really.”

“Anytime,” he said with a wink, picking his phone back up as he added. “Just try not to get caught, alright?”

“I’m working on it.”

Touching his golden curls, the thirty year old prompted. “So, does Barb know?”

“No.”

“Shit!”

[peabodyandsitcoms]

big round of applause for the writing of ava coleman. genuinely one of the most impressive characters ive ever seen. totally outrageous yet realistic. and somehow every single line she has fits her personality to a T.

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

4x4 | 4x8

[shaloved30]

3x05 // 4x16

[kvaaiirv]

Ava and her gfs 🥹

[gweninred]

cooking

melissa schemmenti

mention of sex

just a fic based on s2e4 where melissa invites janine in her house to learn cooking.

It came as a shock to you when Melissa invited Janine to your house after seeing her make pork rinds with peanut butter. You'd never thought your wife would invite one of her colleagues. "What time? I mean, can I come? I need you to help me with my wine pairings. Zach gets embarrassed when I ask the clerk for the second least expensive bottle." Jacob jumped up from his seat, Melissa was gathering her things to go back to class. "Well, I couldn't think of a reason why you can't quick enough, so yeah, I frickin' guess you can, buddy." The redhead slapped his shoulder, then turned around to pick up Janines peanut butter ramen to throw it away. "Get rid of that!" She walks out of the room. "Whoa!" Janine threw her hands in the air. "Here, have some of mine so you don't starve today." You offered her the other half of your grilled cheese.

Later that day, the doorbell rang at your shared house. "Will you get that, honey?" Melissa asked, grabbing a few wine glasses from the cabinet. You walked to the door, and there were standing Janine and Jacob. "Hey guys!" They stepped into the house. "Oh wow." They looked around the house. Janine went to look at the wall full of pictures. "This is, uhm... It's Melissa." Jacob chuckled. "Oh, it used to be worse. When I hadn't moved in yet, she had plastic over her couch." You told them. "But don't bring that up, though; it sits deep." Jacob held up a bottle of wine. "I brought this. I think it's called a 'blend' because they just mix all the best wines together." You led your colleagues to the kitchen, where Melissa was. "Well, hello to you too." Janine went to give your wife a hug. "Hey. Did you bring the onion?" Melissa quickly turned away to avoid giving the other teacher a hug.

"Yeah!" Janine went to look in her bag. "That's a shallot?" Melissa held up the grocery. "A what now?" The brunette asked. "A shallot. I said, get an onion." You walked to the fridge to get a bottle of wine. "Oh, Janine thought it was an onion that was adorable and small like her, and who am I to shatter that illusion?" Jacob cut in. "Wine?" You asked. "It seems more like I need vodka right now." Melissa was annoyed. "Ooh! Now I get to patronize a local vendor. Brb!" Jacob pulled on his coat to get an onion. "I swear to god, if you get a white onion!" Melissa yelled at him before he shut the door behind him.

"So, what are we making?" Janine asked, you handed her a glass of red wine. "Pesto pasta." You told her. "And I only like it when Melissa makes it." You walked up to her, placing the glass of wine on the kitchen counter in front of her. "She's my cooking princess." You smiled up at her, placing a kiss on her temple. "Yeah, Y/n isn't normally allowed in the kitchen when I'm cooking." Melissa wrapped her arm around your waist, pulling you close to her. "So, Janine, you can start by peeling this garlic." She handed her a cutting board and knife. "Just cut into very small pieces." Janine hummed. "So, what's my job tonight, babe?" You asked, squeezing Melissa's waist. "Just make sure the pasta doesn't overcook." She slipped away from your grip to continue her cooking. "Okay, boss." You hopped onto the counter next to the stove, sipping on your glass of wine.

Around 45 minutes later, the table was set. Some scented candles were burning around the house (Melissa's favorites, white musk and warm vanilla). and the onion Jacob went to get successfully made into the pesto sauce. Another bottle of wine had opened after dinner, with Melissa telling Janine she did well for her first cooked dinner.

"If you spill wine on the couch, I'll sue you." Melissa tells her coworkers, as they take a seat in the living room, you are sitting next to your wife. "So I also brought these cards to get to know each other more." Janine is excited. A sigh escaped the redhead's mouth, and you poked your elbow in her side. "Okay, Jacob!" Janine grabbed one of the cards. "If you could invent anything, what would it be?" Jacob crossed his legs, thinking. "A time machine. You know I love history, so I'd love to travel back in time." He explained. "Crab the next card, Jacob." Janine told him. "Y/n, what is your favorite thing about home?" He asked you. "Oh! Easy, Melissa, of course." You smiled at her, her hand creeped up your back, rubbing soothingly. "You're sweet." She placed a kiss on top of your head. "Ahw." You heard from Janine. "When Terique and I were together, he always told me I-" Melissa cut her off. "No one is making you tell these stories, you know?" You grabbed a card. "Right..." The other teacher sat back, sipping her wine. "Melis, what is a secret you never told anyone?" You asked. Melissa placed her wine on the coffee table, thinking. "A secret I haven't told anybody." She thought out loud. 

Melissa turned to you. "You know my boyfriend before you?" She rubbed your arm. "Gary, the vending machine guy?" She nodded. "We were in a relationship, and we never had sex." She giggled. "Ever?" Jacob asked, his mouth agape. "Never," she confirmed. You lauguhed, feeling tipsy. "How did you keep that up for so long?" You asked. "And why didn't he, you know, how could he resit you?" You were confused as to how he could ever resist Melissa, in your eyes the most beautiful woman. "Well, maybe it was kind of me. Now I know I'm more into  women."She wrapped her arms around you to keep you close.

A few hours had passed, and you were now sitting on Melissa's lap sideways, your arm wrapped around her neck as she held you around your waist. Janine and Jacob had left around 11. Melissa gave the leftover to Janine so she could eat it tomorrow at lunch. You had been making out but felt quite tired. You kissed down Melissa's neck, but your kisses were getting sloppier by the second. "Let's go to bed." You mumbled against her neck. You were now a little more than tipsy. "Alright, hon." Melissa pulled you up, holding hands as you made it up to your shared bedroom.

"I couldn't imagine never having sex with you." You slurred as you two lay in bed. Your head is lying on the redhead's chest. "I would have sex with you right now if I wasn't this tired." Melissa giggled at your words, slightly massaging your scalp. "Goodnight, honey."

[schemmentisimpasours]

Choosing The Dark

Anon Request:can I request a Melissa x fem reader fic where reader is somewhat goth/emo new teacher and it’s a enemies to lovers (I tried to do this request justice. I hope you like it anon <3 ) Summary: Melissa is more than pissed about the new art teacher at Abbott Elementary

(AO3 saw it first because I didn't have the time to post it today so this post got scheduled last night)

Masterlist

-

Melissa came into work that day, angrier than Barbara had seen in quite some time. She threw down in her bag, slamming the fridge as she went to refill her coffee. The whole time she swore underneath her breath getting more aggressive as she went. The younger teachers quickly made their way from the room before Melissa could turn on them. Barbara stayed silent till the redhead flopped down at the seat next to her. 

“Bad morning?”

Melissa scoffed, “You could say that. I lost in my fantasy football league to a woman who doesn’t even know what she was doing. She picked purely on if she liked their name or not. I was sure she was gonna be out in the first couple of rounds but now she is in the championship. She beat me by one point Barb!”

Just as Melissa said this Ava walked in with you close to her side. It was your first day as Abbott’s new full time art teacher from funds that had been secured from blackmailing the golf course. You were excited at work picking one of your favorite outfits for the day: black dress with sheer sleeves stopping right above your black platform boots. Accessorized with different silver necklaces and bracelets. You had spent hours making sure your hair was in a two perfect buns with bang framing your face. Even your winged eyeliner had been the best you had ever done. Topped it all off with deep burgundy lipstick and you felt like you were ontop of the world. 

Well until you saw the redhead that you had been dreaming about since last Sunday. She glared daggers at you and you were brought back to last night's dreams where that angry glare had been inbetween your legs. You took a deep breath to try and control your unholy thoughts as you stared at the woman. She didn’t like you and had made that very clear but it didn’t stop you from wanting her. 

“What she doin’ here?” Melissa barked at Ava.

“Red, you could let me introduce the new teacher before you start yelling. That is how we lost the last teacher,” Ava said shaking her head, “This is Y/N our new art teacher. She will be here full time with that money from the golf course. Y/N this is Barbara Howard who teaches Kindergarten and Melissa…”

“We already met,” The older woman retorted slamming down her coffee, “You picked this job just because it sounded cool or are you actually qualified kid?”

You felt a lump in your throat at how callously she talked to you, “I actually have a masters degree in art therapy from Penn State University.”

“Well we don’t have supplies and the art room got turned into a storage closet last year,” Melissa smirked, “So have fun making masterpieces out of popsicle sticks from the lunch trash can.”

“Melissa!” Barbara scolded.

“Or I can just use my winnings from the fantasy football league,” You shot back, “Since I am already slotted to win the whole thing. How much was the winning pot again Schemmenti?”

You could hear Melissa growl as she tightened her hand around her coffee cup. Ava smiled looking between the two of you, “Oh so the plot thickens. Let me get my phone out.”

“Don’t bother I will be in my classroom to prepare for my classes tomorrow,” You said casually turning towards Barbara, “It was excellent to meet you Ms. Howard. I am coming to get your class tomorrow first thing in the morning. If there is anything you need me to know please feel free to stop by later.”

Then with a swish of your skirt you were off down the hall, completely ignoring the older woman who was staring at you. Once inside your classroom you let out a large sigh trying to hold back the tears that threatened to come over you. This job had been a risk but after no one else had wanted to take a chance on you it was the only thing you had left. But with Melissa’s nasty comment already swirling your head you didn’t know how long you could keep it up. 

This back and forth between you and Melissa went on for weeks. Her constantly digging at your teaching styles and always pointing out when you had made a mistake became exhausting. You already struggled keeping 200 students in check you didn’t need teachers also questioning you. It angered you even more that Melissa had been right and supplies had been so limited that soon you were borrowing from your savings. You had promised yourself you were going to open an art installation one day but seeing these kids light up when they were able to paint or have markers that weren’t dried out was the best thing you could ask for. 

You were showing these new supplies to Barbara in the break room one day when Melissa stormed in her usual cloud of anger. She had lost yet another bet this time on an NHL game and it had left her in a sour mood. 

“You really spent your fantasy football money on those? A waste if you ask me” She scoffed looking down at a large bucket full of cotton balls, piper cleaner,construction paper, paper plates, markers, and googly eyes.

This was when your rage finally boiled over and you snapped, “This waste is your Peter Rabbit project. Barbara told me how important it is to you and I wanted to make sure that we could give them everything they needed plus some this year. We were out of cotton balls, only had paper plates with food stains on them and not a single googly eye in this whole damn building. But if it is such a waste them screw it.”

You pushed the bucket off the table and watched as the contents scattered to the floor.You couldn’t bring yourself to care about the mess that you had made too angry to care much about anything.  You reached for your badge and phone stalking to the door. Right as you went to leave you turned back to the shocked older women.

“And just so you know I bought that with my own money from savings… you know the money I was saving to make my own art collection. Which is now empty because I put money into our kids instead. That fantasy football money you are so worried about went to help pay my daughter’s medical bills. From the car accident that she was in before school started. I still have no idea how you are her favorite teacher but don’t worry I will ask Ava to transfer her immediately.”

With a slam of the door you were gone storming out of the school and onto the front steps. As soon as the fresh air hit your face you dropped down crying into your hands. 

Back in the break room Barbara had her arms crossed looking at her best friend, “Really messed this one up.”

Melissa looked down at the supplies all over the floor and then back at Barbara, “Her daughter?”

“If you took one second to know the girl you would have known her daughter is Astrid.”

“The one who has the purple cast,” Melissa paused realizing how much your daughter Astrid looked like you. Just covered in all the colors of the rainbow instead of your usual black atire, “Oh god I am such an idiot.”

“You could say that again,” Barbara huffed and then got up, “Make sure you pick up your mess.”

Melissa spent the remainder of the lunch scrapping up papers and googly eyes trying to organize them the best she could. The entire time all she could think about how many mistakes she had made. Sure she had been pissed off about the fantasy football thing. But she had been more pissed that you looked hot doing it. That her dreams had been filled by kissing that smirk off your face when you gave her a bratty attitude. Then it just became easier to give you shit than to admit her real feelings toward you. 

When she had made her way to your classroom the door was shut for the first time since you had come to Abbott. She knocked gently and waited for you “Come in” before stepping inside. When you noticed it was her you turned your back focusing on the art projects you were lining the wall with.

“What do you want Schemmenti?”

“To apologize,” Melissa said placing the bin on the table, “I shouldn’t have criticized your supplies. The kids love coming to your class and they have been able to make more this year than ever before. I can chip in some money if you need…”

You turned abruptly throwing an envelope on the table, “I don’t need your damn money. And there is the fantasy football winnings. Take them.”

“But this is for Astrid’s medical bills,” Melissa pushing it back.

“I will figure it out but I can’t have you holding it over me for the rest of my life cause I got lucky the one time when my life was falling apart,” Tears welled in your eyes again and you did your best to shove them down, “I never wanted you to hate me. You know how hard it is to be the only girl in the fantasy football league. I thought we could have been friends...”

“I don’t hate you.”

“You sure act like it,” You scoffed.

“You want to know why I become snippy with you,” Melissa said stalking over until you were pushed up against the counter, “Becuase I can’t get you out of my damn head. I think about you ever moment of the damn day.”

She ran her fingers over your lips pulling away a line of burgundy lipstick across your cheek, “How much I want to ruin this damn lipstick everytime you open up your bratty ass mouth. How much I want to take you home in my bed just to get you to shut up for one damn minute. I don’t hate you Y/N. I am so fucking obsessed with the idea of making you mine that I can’t think straight.”

“Prove it,” You whispered.

Melissa’s eyes darkened, “What was that, sweetheart?”

“Prove it,” You snipped, “Prove how obsessed with me you are.”

Melissa smiled before lifting you up onto the counter before crashing her lips into yours. The guttural moan that came out of you would have made you embarrassed if it hadn’t been for the way Melissa moaned with you. You got lost in the feeling of her pressed against you her hands gently pulling at your hair as you clung desperately to her. The kiss only broke when there was a knock on the door.

“Um, excuse me but my class would like to start art,” Barbara said shielding her students behind her.

Melissa pulled away with a laugh fixing your lipstick the best she could before placing her forehead on yours, “So can I take you out on a real date? Maybe makeout somewhere that isn’t crawling with students.”

-

Taglist

@yoyo-w

@cupldscntrl

@milfslvr

@liliapleasesteponme

[sweetcheeksschemmenti]

Abracadabra:

Link if you want it:

Or! You can read it here :)

Word count: 1,475

Inspired by a line from a Chappell Roan song that’s been stuck in my head for weeks.

It’s a little spicy, but not too spicy! I’m not super comfortable writing smut, but decided to try it out again since it’s been a few years. Enjoy, cuties!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The birds were chirping and the sun was shining bright when you woke up that morning; you knew it was going to be a wonderful day. You rolled out of bed, pulled on your skirt and blouse, and waltzed out the door to make a stop at the coffee shop down the street. It had become your normal Friday routine to stop and grab a hot chocolate for yourself, and a coffee for your favorite coworker, Melissa Schemmenti. In turn, Melissa would bring a danish for you and a muffin for herself. You weren’t exactly sure when or how it happened, but you looked forward to it every week.

It had been a bit of a stressful week with state testing and the kids were over it just as much as the teachers were. Janine convinced Ava to allow her to set up a talent show as a ‘carrot’ for the end of testing week.

“Carrot? What the hell you mean, carrot? Ain’t nobody lookin’ for a vegetable, girl.”

Janine rubbed her temples, “You know, like when you put a carrot in front of a horse to keep them moving. It’s a little motivation to get people through the week.”

“Whatever. You can have a talent show, just make sure Melissa stays off the stage with her horrific impressions. I simply cannot listen to her butcher The Godfather again.”

You prepared all week to share your magic tricks with the school. Jacob caught wind and asked if you would like to join him in his magic act, claiming that your combined expertise would win you more applause. You reluctantly agreed and spent all of Thursday evening with him at Melissa’s house practicing. It wouldn’t have been so bad if the redhead had been there, but she spent the evening with Barbara instead.

You could smell Melissa’s perfume before you even stepped foot in the lounge and it made you smile. During your first year at Abbott you developed the tiniest crush on her, but at this point, you were flat out in love with the woman. You didn’t exactly hide the fact that you liked her that way, but you never said it out loud either. Melissa had told you she was bisexual but leaned more towards men fairly early on in your friendship when you told her you were a lesbian. After sharing a bottle of wine together you asked her what her type was.

“Big burly men with beards who can take care of me or pretty little ladies who with let me take care of them. What about you? So I know what to look out for for ya,” she responded with a chuckle.

You fought yourself not to reply with a simple ‘you’ and gave her a vague description of herself instead. She raised an eyebrow but didn’t push. The two of you shared some casual flirting over time, but you just chalked it up to her treating you like a close friend.

The lounge was already buzzing when you walked in, everyone talking about what their students were doing for their acts or which teachers signed up. You crossed the room to set your things down before walking over to Melissa to exchange goods. She beamed up at you when you placed your hand on her shoulder and her cup on the table in front of her.

“I’ve been looking forward to this all week, thanks doll face,” she sipped her coffee and handed you a raspberry danish.

“Likewise! Thanks, pumpkin.” You winked at her and took your seat across the room with Janine, Gregory and Jacob, completely missing Melissa’s coy smile in response to the nickname.

The bell rang and everyone gathered their belongings to start the day. You and Melissa were the last ones in the room as you moved things in the fridge to fit your lunch. She came up behind you, resting her hand on your hip for balance as she leaned into the fridge with you to move her containers. You froze at the contact and mentally begged yourself not to blush. As she leaned further down, her hand slid over to your ass. Your eyes were glued to her cleavage, beautifully illuminated by the refrigerator light. You quickly turned your head when she caught you staring.

She stood up, her hand still slightly splayed your ass. Your face was beet red. “No need to steal glances hon, all you gotta do is ask,” she clicked her tongue and made her way out the door, swaying her hips dramatically. She knew you were watching.

More than a little flustered, you splashed cold water on your face and left to tend to your students. The hours ticked by and you struggled to focus on anything other than the feeling of Melissa’s hand on your backside. You were looking forward to spending lunch with her and Barbara, but Jacob insisted you practice with him one more time before the talent show. Between bites of pasta you made coins disappear and reappear from behind Jacob’s ear and cheered him on as he mastered revealing the chosen card.

The entire school gathered to watch the staff and students perform at the end of the day. You took a seat next to Melissa, waiting for your turn.

“You got any hidden talents you’re gonna share with us, red?” You poked at her side.

“Nah, can’t share my talents here kid. I wouldn’t be allowed back on school grounds,” she smirked. “Just joshin’, Ava forbade me from doing impressions so I’m stuck in the crowd. I’m excited to see what youse cooked up for your act though, Jacob hasn’t shut up about it.”

“Ha, I’m sure he hasn’t.”

Janine introduced your act and you followed Jacob onto the stage. The two of you played off of each other’s tricks with the crowd ooh-ing and aww-ing. You had always enjoyed tricking people with sleight of hand, but you enjoyed it even more when you were able to fool an entire auditorium. When the four minutes of fame were over you returned to your seat next to Melissa. She nodded her approval and continued to watch the show.

A few minutes later you excused yourself to use to restroom. The bathroom was empty and you did your business quickly. As you opened your stall door you jumped at the sight of Melissa sitting on the counter. You hadn’t even heard her come in.

“Oh Jesus!”

“It’s actually Melissa, but I get that one a lot.” She slid off the counter to stand next to you as you washed your hands.

“Very funny,” you rolled your eyes.

She moved closer, her breasts brushing your arm. “Yeah, but you like it when I’m cheesy like that.”

Your breathing hitched. “I d-do,” you stuttered and melting at the close proximity.

“So, tell me what else you like, gorgeous.” She was nearly straddling your right leg. Her eyes filled with fire as she brought her hand up to your cheek and traced a finger along your jaw line.

You stifled a whimper and bit your lip, unable to speak without making a fool of yourself. She moved even closer, now actually straddling your leg, you could feel the warmth of her. You placed your hands on the counter to keep yourself upright.

“I know you like magic.” She nuzzled her face into your hair and lowered her voice to a whisper, “I’ve got a wand and a rabbit.” She punctuated her sentence with a light nibble to your earlobe. You gasped; a cold chill ran up your spine and you couldn’t hide the shiver. Her hand on your left hip pulled you in between her legs so that her core was pressed firmly against your thigh.

You squeezed your eyes shut, you wanted her to ruin you right then and there, but the school day wasn’t over and the talent show was about to let out.

“Mel, I want this,” you whined and guided her free hand down to your soaked panties, wanting her to feel exactly how bad you wanted, needed, her. “But we can’t do that here, not now at least. Like you said, we wouldn’t be allowed back on a school grounds.”

She lifted your skirt so you could feel her own wetness through her leggings against your bare skin. “My house, eight o’clock.” Melissa kissed you with such fervor that it made you want to go back on your words. “Bring whatever other magic tricks you have up your sleeve, or in your nightstand drawer,” she winked and playfully smacked your ass as she walked away.

You tried desperately to gather your thoughts and some semblance of composure, your mind racing with the image of Melissa playing with her toys- and you. The redhead was going to be the death of you yet.

[romerona]

The Cook and The Teacher!

Let's pretend The Bear and Abbot Elementary are in the same city.

Another cute interaction between Carmen (Carmy) Berzatto x Abbot Teacher Femreader! Sunshinereader!

Trigger warning: Mentions of the asshole Chef David Fields, some angst and anxiety attacks.

It was late—too late.

Carmy barely registered the walk home, his body moving on autopilot, his mind still tangled in the chaos of the night. The cold air bit at his exposed skin, sharp and unforgiving, but he hardly noticed. The city around him murmured in the background—streetlights flickering, cars humming in the distance, the occasional shout from someone leaving a bar. But it all felt muted, distant, like he was hearing it through water. What lingered instead was the crushing weight of the night pressing against his ribs, a dull and relentless pressure that refused to let up.

Dinner service at The Bear had been a disaster. One of those nights where everything that could go wrong, did. The shipment. Late. So late that it threw off the whole prep schedule. Orders were late. Tickets stacked up like a goddamn mountain, looming over him, mocking him. Then, of course, one of the fryers broke mid-rush. The kitchen had been thick with tension, and every sharp movement edged with frustration. Richie and Sydney had gone at it—again—voices rising over the clatter of pans, cutting through the already fraying nerves of the staff.

And Carmy? He could feel himself unravelling. Patience thinning. Jaw tightening. His fingers curling into fists so hard his nails dug into his palms, but there was no outlet, no way to fix it. And then there was the heat. The noise. The pressure of it all, building and building, squeezing in on him until it felt like the walls were closing in, the suffocating knowledge that he should have done more, been better, made it work. No matter how hard he worked, no matter how many hours he gave to The Bear, it was still just a ticking time bomb of mistakes waiting to happen.

By the time he peeled off his clothes, shoving them into a crumpled pile somewhere near the hamper, his body felt disconnected from his brain. Like his limbs weren’t quite his own—like he was floating just outside of himself, watching everything happen from a few steps away.

His muscles ached, the deep kind of exhaustion that settled in his bones, making every movement feel heavier than it should. His head throbbed in dull, rhythmic pulses, the pressure lingering behind his eyes, threatening to split his skull in two. And his skin—Christ, his skin burned. Still clinging to the heat of the kitchen, to the suffocating weight of the night, to the stench of grease and smoke that no amount of showers ever seemed to fully wash away. It was embedded in him, stitched into his fibers.

And yet, still, he couldn't stop.

His feet carried him toward the kitchen before he even registered the movement, muscle memory taking over where his brain had given up. His fingers found the knob on the stove, twisting it with a practised flick until the flame flared to life, a small but immediate comfort.

A pan. Some oil.

Something simple. Something controllable.

He should be asleep. He knew that. His body screamed for it, his eyes burned from the strain of the day, his hands still bore the small nicks and cuts from rushed knife work. But sleep meant stopping. Stopping meant sitting in silence, letting the weight of the night press down on him again.

And if he let that happen—if he let himself sit in the quiet too long—he knew what would come creeping in.

The doubts. The failures. The voice of the fucking asshole, even now, echoing in his head. You’re too slow. You’re too careless. You’re not enough. You should fucking die.

He cracked the egg, let it hit the pan, and barely noticed the sizzle. His eyes weren’t on the stovetop. They were somewhere else. Somewhere he couldn’t claw his way out of.

His thoughts swirled, a chaotic loop that refused to quiet down. Back to the heat, the noise, the impossible weight pressing against his chest like a tightening vice. He rubbed a hand over his face, fingers pressing hard against his eyes like he could physically wipe the memories away. Exhaled sharply. Tried to shake it off.

Too slow. Too much. Not enough.

His breath came a little too fast, his jaw clenching so tight it ached. Carmy barely noticed the first tendril of smoke curling through the air.

For a second, it didn’t compute.

His eyes followed the lazy drift of grey, sluggish, delayed, like his brain was still playing catch-up. Then— Shit.

The oil. The heat. The flames licking up the edge of the pan. The Déjà vu.

His body moved before his brain fully caught up. Fast. Sharp. Instinct taking over where exhaustion failed him. His hand shot out, killing the burner, while his other grabbed the lid, slamming it down over the flames before they had a chance to spread.

His pulse hammered in his ears. It was small—controlled—just a second of distraction. For a second, he just stood there, staring at the smothered pan, the burnt remnants inside. The acrid smell clung to him, to the walls, to everything. Embedded, like everything else.

Too much.

His feet moved before his brain could process it. He shoved open the door, barely feeling the cool brass of the handle beneath his fingers, stepping outside onto the hallway. The air hit him sharp, cold against his overheated skin. He inhaled deep, sucking in the crispness, trying to force his heartbeat to slow the fuck down.

Ground yourself. Breathe. Breathe.

But it wasn’t working.

Because the moment he lifted his head, he saw you. You were standing in the hallway, just a few feet away. Still. Watching him.

And you knew.

It was written all over your face. The way your brows pulled together, the way your lips parted like you were about to say something but hadn’t yet figured out how.

“Carmy, you okay?” Your voice was too soft—too careful—but somehow, it still cut through him like a blade.

His breath hitched, his pulse still too fast, too erratic, his body caught between the past five minutes and right now. He should say something. Smooth this over. Make it disappear before it became a thing.

“Was nothin’,” he muttered, shaking his head quickly. His voice came out hoarse, frayed at the edges. “Just—just got distracted.”

But you didn’t look convinced.

Your gaze dropped to his hands. The ones still trembling, even as he tried to disguise it, rubbing them against the fabric of his hoodie like that would erase the evidence. You stepped closer, slow, cautious, and it made his skin prickle.

“It doesn’t look fine. And that’s not what I asked,” you murmured, your tone even. Not accusing. Not pushing. Just… knowing.

And fuck, why?

Why did you have to look at him like that? Why did it feel like you were peeling him open with just a look?

Like you could see whatever was wrong, the way it clung to him, the way it seeped into his bones, wrapped around his ribs like a vice.

Why the fuck did you care?

His jaw tightened as he exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. His skin felt too tight, his thoughts too loud. His heart was still racing, his breath coming in short, shallow pulls, and the way you were looking at him—it made it worse. Annoyance flickered up, hot and sharp.

“Well, it is, alright,” he bit out, voice low, clipped.

You didn’t flinch. Didn’t step back.

Your eyes held him there. Concerned, not pitying. And for some reason, that made it worse. “What’s going on?”

Your voice was gentle, but he still felt like it pressed against something raw in him. He swallowed again, the motion tight, too quick. His shoulders tensed. Like a cornered animal.

“Fucking nothin', alright?” His voice snapped—not loud, but sharp. A warning. “Just got fucking distracted.”

There was a bite to it. A finality. A 'don’t push it'. But you didn’t look away. He could feel his pulse in his throat, the weight of the night crashing down again.

“Left something on the stove too long.” His fingers twitched, restless. “It’s fucking fine, just—” He gestured vaguely toward your apartment, his frustration turning in on itself. “Just go back to your house.”

He didn’t mean for it to sound harsh. But it did.

Your expression barely flickered, but he saw the way your brows knitted together for a fraction of a second, the way you took in his words, measured them, and decided not to take the bait.

Carmy knew what he was doing. Knew the sharpness in his voice, the edge he was putting there—not to hurt you, not really. Just to push you away, to create space where there was none, to stop you from seeing too much. From seeing him like this.

But you just stood there, calm, unwavering, like you had all the time in the world for him to burn himself out. You took another step closer, slow and deliberate, your gaze never leaving his face.

“Okay,” you said simply, shrugging. “Fine.”

That threw him off. He expected pushback, expected you to demand answers or call him out. Instead, you just… accepted his words. His anger fizzled out slightly, like a match burning out too fast.

You shifted your weight, crossing your arms. “But if it’s fine, then you won’t mind standing here for a second and breathing with me.”

His brows furrowed. “What?”

You gave him that look, the one that was patient but somehow immovable. “I’m not asking you to explain. I’m not even asking you to talk. Just... breathe with me.”

Then, carefully, you reached out—not touching, not forcing, just holding a hand palm-up between you. Not a demand. A choice.

“Just once. If it doesn’t help, I’ll go inside, and you can keep pretending you’re fine,” you said, your tone gentle but sure.

A muscle in his jaw ticked. He hated this. Hated being seen like this. Hated the way you were giving him an out but also making it real fucking hard to take it.

His gaze flickered to your hand. Just sitting there, open, steady, waiting.

Like an idiot, he took it.

It wasn’t much at first. His grip was tight, rigid. Like he was bracing for impact. But you didn’t squeeze or try to pull him closer. You just held it. Let him be shaky. Let his fingers flex, then tighten, then relax—like an anchor, like something solid in the mess of his own mind.

Carmy clenched his jaw. He should tell you to go, to drop it, to just—leave him alone. But then you inhaled, slow and deep, through your nose. And for some fucking reason, he did it too.

Not perfectly. Not steady. But he tried.

“Good,” you murmured, nodding. “Now out.”

He exhaled, shakier than he wanted it to be, his fingers twitching again. You stayed quiet for a moment, watching him, letting the air settle between you.

You shifted slightly, tilting your head. “Again.”

He hesitated but did as you said. In through his nose. Out through his mouth. One breath at a time.

Until the world wasn’t pressing against his ribs like a vice. Until the knots in his stomach weren’t so fucking tight. Until his hand—still in yours—wasn’t trembling anymore.

Finally, finally, his shoulders dropped a fraction, and you let out a small exhale, like there you are.

“See? Now it’s fine,” you said, voice lighter, teasing but not pushing. “Knew I could get you to listen.”

Carmy let out a quiet, shaky huff—half a laugh, half an exhale. “Didn’t say it helped.”

You smirked, tilting your head. “But you’re not telling me to leave anymore.”

“Guess not.”

You let go of his hand—easing the connection rather than dropping it. Still, he can't help but flex it, missing the warmth, the feeling.

Carmy exhaled again, slower this time. His jaw was still tight, but the sharp edge of his frustration had dulled, faded into something closer to exhaustion. He ran a hand over his face, rubbing at his temple. “I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“I know,” you interrupted softly.

That threw him off balance more than before. You weren’t asking for an explanation, weren’t searching for answers, weren’t waiting for him to fix himself before you’d stand there with him.

You just were. And for some reason, that made something in his chest pull tight.

Your smile softened, and you nudged his foot lightly with yours, the touch grounding, casual—like you weren’t standing there peeling back every layer of him without even trying. “You don’t have to say anything, Carmy. Just… let me be here, alright?”

Carmy’s chest rose and fell in a slow, measured breath. His fingers twitched, he wanted to reach you again but instead he let them fall, finally relaxing.

His gaze drifted over you then—really seeing you for the first time tonight.

The colourful oversized pajamas, a mismatched set that somehow made sense on you made you look impossibly comfortable. The messy bed head, strands sticking up in odd directions like you’d been in too much of a hurry to smooth them down. The thick glasses perched on your nose, slightly crooked, like you’d shoved them on without thinking.

And yet, none of it diminished you.

No, you were still—God, you were just so...

Soft in a way that didn’t feel fragile. Kind in a way that didn’t feel forced. For someone who should’ve looked a little ridiculous standing in the dim hallway at nearly midnight, dressed like a walking fever dream, you were still—

Still just you. Still perfect.

Not in the unattainable, polished way that made people feel like they had to measure up. No, you were real. Warm. The kind of presence that pulled people in without trying. Like someone who didn’t need him to be anything other than exactly what he was in this moment—messy, frayed, a little burnt at the edges.

His throat worked as he swallowed, the words forming but never making it past his lips. Instead, he just nodded once, short and barely there. But you caught it, you always did.

You smiled a quiet understanding passing between you and tilted your head toward your apartment. “Come inside. Just for a bit.”

Carmy hesitated, shifting his weight like he was already halfway out the door. “Nah, you really should go back to sleep. You, uh—you got to teach tomorrow, right?”

You scoffed, shaking your head with an amused little huff. “Please, I wasn’t asleep. I was on my Kindle, making poor life choices about just one more chapter.”

That made him glance at you, brow twitching slightly upward. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said, waving a hand. “I sleep late all the time. Bad habit. I’m a terrible role model for my students. Preaching good sleep schedules by day, sabotaging my own by night. Not my proudest contradiction, but hey, I make it work.”

He pressed his lips together, unsure. He’d already taken up too much of your time, already made too much of a mess of himself in front of you. But before he could find another excuse to disappear, you tilted your head toward your apartment, eyes glinting mischievously.

“Tell you what—I’ll sweeten the deal." you said, "Come inside, and I’ll make you pancakes or something.”

His brows furrowed, but there was amusement flickering in his tired eyes. “You’re bribing me with pancakes?”

“I’m persuading you with pancakes,” you corrected, crossing your arms. “Big difference. One’s morally questionable, the other is just good business.”

He exhaled a small laugh, shaking his head as he glanced past you toward your open door. The warmth of your apartment, the contrast of soft, golden light against the dim hallway, was enough to make him hesitate just a little longer.

You sighed dramatically, tipping your head back. “Fine. I see how it is. You don’t want pancakes. You don’t want warmth. You don’t want the chance to experience my culinary prowess, which, by the way, is heavily dependent on boxed mix and sheer confidence.”

Carmy exhaled another small laugh, “That supposed to convince me?”

“I don’t know,” you mused, tilting your head. “Is it working?”

He hesitated, then glanced at you, eyes flickering between your expression and the soft glow of your apartment.

He huffed a quiet laugh, rubbing a hand over his face before looking at you again. “You even got syrup?”

You gasped, clutching your chest dramatically. “How dare you. Of course, I have syrup. And not just any syrup. The good syrup. The expensive kind that makes my pockets cry.”

He looked back at the open door, at the warmth, then at you—waiting, expectant, patient.

“…Alright,” he muttered finally, turning off his light and closing his door . “Just for a bit.”

Your grin widened as you stepped aside. “Good call. I was prepared to escalate to full puppy-dog eyes if needed.”

Carmy hesitated in your doorway, eyes flicking between the warm glow of your apartment and the quiet comfort of your presence. The offer was simple—pancakes, syrup, a brief reprieve from his own mind.

And for a second, just a second, it felt familiar.

Too familiar.

His chest tightened. He didn’t mean to think about Mikey, but the memory crept in any way—uninvited and unavoidable.

He wasn’t sure when he noticed it, that pull you had. The way you could turn a moment weightless without even trying. It was something about the way you carried yourself—unapologetically bright, effortlessly magnetic, like the room revolved around you but you never let it go to your head.

Mikey had been like that.

Carmy swallowed, rubbing the back of his neck as he leaned against the counter, watching you move around the kitchen, talking about some ridiculous pancake technique like it was revolutionary. Like this was normal. Like he wasn’t just outside five minutes ago trying to claw his way out of his own head.

Mikey used to drag him into things, into late-night runs for shitty gas station snacks, into arguments about what actually made a perfect sandwich, into moments that felt like they meant nothing at the time but everything in hindsight

And now here you were, doing the same thing.

Pulling him out of his own head. Out of the spiral. Out of the weight of it all.

You didn’t even realize it, did you?

Carmy never thought he’d meet someone else like that. Didn’t think he deserved to.

But here you were.

Different, but the same in all the ways that mattered. You lit up a room without trying, turned things that should’ve felt heavy into something bearable.

“Alright, Chef,” you teased, flicking a bit of flour off your fingers, breaking out of his thoughts. “You wanna help, or are you just gonna sit there looking pretty?”

Carmy scoffed, rolling his eyes, but there was no real bite behind it.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, but his hands were already reaching for the whisk.

Mikey would’ve loved you.

A/N: Helloooooo. How is everyone!?? Okay first I want to thank you all for the support, for those likes, comments and shares ❤️ I still can’t believe the love for this fic. Thank you so muchhh.

And second of all I hope you enjoyed this one, I am personally not sure about it. It feels like it needs that je ne sais quoi factor… hopefully I'll have a good one for Valentine’s Day ����🩷

Be safe out there 🫶 Tell me if you would like to get tagged.

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[ladybugb0ng]

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[murcielagatito]

i just think its be real cute if ava dommed janine. matching freaks etc etc [uncensored]

[morgana-larkin]

Ok so I finally finished it, here it is, the first chapter

[wandering-words]

when ava looked outside and saw the rain pouring down she sighed knowing she had forgotten her umbrella at home

Thank youuu for the request! Just know that when I wrote this I absolutely imagined it going down in your art style.

~~~

When Ava looked outside and saw the rain pouring down she sighed knowing she had forgotten her umbrella at home.

She was usually prepared for any and every disaster - her bunker was stocked to the max (and if a few supplies were missing from the teacher’s lounge, it was none of her business), her house was stocked to the max (of course she would have a second secret bunker, she wasn’t sure when and where disaster would strike), but even still, it was stupid that she’d forget one seemingly innocuous item.

But of course, the one person who’d actually prepared for this situation was Janine, who’d come in for one of her Abbott days away from the district and folding away a small black umbrella, but just as she always did in that intuitive, Janine way, the shorter woman stopped unfolding it and looked at Ava with a knowing smile, one which was almost soft.

Janine wordlessly unfolded her umbrella and raised it comically high, her arm extending to make sure that the umbrella fully covered the both of them, smiling all the while, and Ava struggled not to notice the way her face warmed around the shorter woman or the subtle floral perfume Janine wore.

“I don’t need your help, Janine,” Ava snapped, but both of them knew full well that what Ava was wearing was too expensive to be ruined by something as innocuous as rain.

“I know,” Janine said, but her smile grew wider as the two of them walked outside together, Janine’s wordless assistance meaning more to Ava than she would ever know.