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lessthanpure · 2 years ago

Text

A Wrong Dose Chapter 1

Fandom: Elementary

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes/Gareth Lestrade

Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, female!Sherlock Holmes, non-traditional a/b/o dynamics, Omega!Sherlock, Beta!Lestrade

Rating: Explicit

18+ only

Notes: This is on my AO3. Figured I'd actually fill up this blog so I won't get flagged as a bot. And this is when Lestrade is staying with Sherlock and Joan after Lawrence Pendry.

Summary: When Sherlock is exposed to a new chemical at a crime scene, she's thrown into heat. Lestrade is the only one around.

AO3 link

Sherlock shakes the man’s hand, going around the crime scene. She catalogues the data, making connections in her mind. It’s not until she gets back to the precinct that she feels off.

Sherlock clears her throat and unbuttons a couple of buttons at the top of her shirt.

“Sherlock, are you ok? You look a little flushed,” Joan says, laying the back of her hand on Sherlock’s forehead. “My God, you’re burning up.”

“I do feel warm,” she admits. “I just need some water.” She goes to the water cooler and drinks three cups, each one less effective than the last. She rests her fist against her forehead and closes her eyes. She wanders back to the bullpen, slightly dazed.

“Holmes, you look like shit,” Bell says. Sherlock sways on her feet, and Bell steadies her. “You ok?”

Sherlock closes her eyes again, letting Bell hold her up. She’s warm, and his touch is grounding. It’s almost as if… her eyes snap open. “I need the Heat room,” she forces out.

“What, why,” Bell asks.

“You’re a detective, you tell me,” Sherlock snaps out. The captain comes out of his office, frowning over at her. She bends over, clutching her stomach and gasping. Scent pours off of her in waves, and the nearest Alpha’s nostrils flare. He reaches for her, and she turns and socks him in the stomach. The captain rushes over, bracing her arm against his shoulders and dragging her downstairs. She’s panting all the way.

“Holmes, stay with me,” Gregson says.

“Trying.”

Gregson has warm in-Heat Omega scent in his nose, and fights the rising arousal. Sherlock smells it anyway and chirps. She presses herself against him, and he grits his teeth and pushes her into the Heat room. She drags him inside.

“Captain,” she gasps.

“Holmes. Let me go.”

“Just, stay, stay, please Alpha.”

Gregson’s eyes go wide. He hasn’t been called ‘Alpha’ like that in a long time. “Holmes, you can’t consent. You’re in Heat.” A Beta knocks on the door, and Gregson pushes Sherlock onto the cot to talk to him. The man hands him a packet of pills, and Gregson tosses them at Sherlock. She presses two out and swallows them dry. She looks up at him. Gregson watches her drag her eyes down his body, and she rocks on the cot. He swears, low under his breath. “Feel better.” He leaves before he does something he regrets, locking the door. He leaves the Beta to keep watch.

Sherlock’s pills kick in soon enough, and Joan takes her home.

“Watson, I assure you, I’ll be fine,” Sherlock says.

“I’m not leaving you alone during your Heat,” she says with finality. Sherlock can tell she won’t sway her, so she leaves the topic be. They work from home.

Lestrade comes home eventually. He pauses in the library.

“Oh. Figured you two’d be out until much later.”

“We had to come home, there was… an emergency,” Joan says delicately. Lestrade frowns.

“Everything ok?”

“Yeah, we’re fine.”

Lestrade shrugs, walking to his room. Joan is making dinner when Lestrade goes to Sherlock. He sits on the footrest, looking at the woman. “You’re in Heat, aren’t you,” he asks. Sherlock looks at him.

“Yes.” Sherlock turns back to her case file. “How’d you know?”

“There’s no way you would have left the station unless something drastic happened. So what happened?”

“I don’t know,” Sherlock admits.

“Well, what’d you do today,” Lestrade asks. Sherlock recognizes that voice. His detective voice. It warms her inside.

“Well, we went to the crime scene. I looked around,” she says. “Then went back to the station. I started feeling off there. It came on suddenly.”

“So, do you think something happened at the station?”

“Then why’d it only affect me and not Watson? Or any other Omega?”

“Is there something you did that Joan didn’t?”

Sherlock exhales, thinking. Her face goes slack and she looks at Lestrade.

“Oh, I know that look. What is it?”

“There was a man. The one who discovered the body. We shook hands,” she says, rubbing her palm. “Watson!”

“Sherlock,” Joan comes in. “What’s wrong?”

Sherlock is already using a clean wipe to scrape her palm. She also uses what looks like a GSR test. “Lestrade helped me think. The man I shook hands with. You were elsewhere, with Bell. I believe he must have dosed me with something. Perhaps a gel or a patch on his skin.”

“Did you feel anything?”

“Not at the moment, but I was more preoccupied with the murder victim.”

“Alright. I’ll call Gregson.”

“Go with him.”

“Sherlock, I said-“

“I’m on emergency Heat suppressants, I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Quite.”

“Alright. But call if you feel anything weird.”

“I will. Now go.”

Joan gathers her things and leaves. Sherlock sighs deeply. “Was she making food? I’m famished.”

“Let’s see, shall we,” Lestrade asks. Sherlock gets up, going to the kitchen. Lestrade follows her. There’s a salad on the counter. Sherlock sniffs. She would prefer something more, but her Heat is making her hungry. Lestrade is at her back, fairly close. His familiar Beta scent winds around her. “You alright, love?”

“I’m fine.” She gets herself a bowl, bringing it back to the couch. She bundles herself in a blanket and settles in. Lestrade just watches her. “What?”

“Nothing. It’s just, haven’t seen you in Heat in a while. You always got… softer.”

“Hormones,” Sherlock rolls her eyes. “Unfortunately they make me act more submissive, more attractive for Alphas.”

“And Betas,” Lestrade mutters.

“Pardon?”

“Do you… need someone?”

“I shouldn’t. But my usual Alphas are unfortunately both out of the city at the moment.”

“You have… usual Alphas?”

Sherlock nods, eating some lettuce. She chews, watching Lestrade. “We have an agreement. It’s easier for Omegas to have familiar scents, and I haven’t quite responded well to the usual services. So, I’ve collected associates through my work that have a mutual interest in me.”

Lestrade nods, still watching her. “But, you know. If you do need something, um. I’m available.” Sherlock pauses, looking up at him. He sits next to her. “You know my scent.”

“I do,” Sherlock says. She sets aside the empty bowl and sits up. She reaches out, and Lestrade inches towards her. She tugs him closer, scenting the air. She opens her mouth, letting Lestrade’s scent wash over her. He’s been drinking tonight. Just beer, though. She puts her mouth at the edge of his jaw, feeling the bristle of his stubble against her lips. He comes closer, hand coming up to the back of her head. She trails her mouth to his, and he lets her set the pace. Sherlock tugs Lestrade closer, over her. “As much as I normally like taking charge,” she says. “In my Heat, I prefer to be told what to do.”

“Then let’s take this to your room, hmm?”

Sherlock nods, taking Lestrade’s hand and leading him upstairs to her bedroom. Lestrade doesn’t bother to look around, he just presses Sherlock onto her bed. Sherlock chirps gently at him. Lestrade goes to Sherlock’s throat, tasting her. She bares it for him. Lestrade may not be an Alpha, but he is a dominant Beta. And that display of submission, especially from an independent Omega like Sherlock, pleases him. Lestrade trails his mouth down, over Sherlock’s shirt. He starts to unbutton it. Sherlock helps him, letting him take it off her shoulders. She also takes off her bra. Lestrade pulls her pants and underwear down her legs. He tugs off her socks, too. He leans back to admire her. Sherlock takes a fistful of his hoodie and tugs gently. He gets the picture and strips. Lestrade settles between Sherlock’s thighs, looking up the woman’s body at her. Sherlock’s hand settles in his hair. He smiles and gets to work. Sherlock arches against him, and he lets himself feel proud. He’s good at this, and he knows it. His previous girlfriends always told him how good he was at oral. He notices she tastes different than any woman he’d been with. Sure, every woman tastes different, but it’s even more… different. Thicker. He figures it must be slick. He licks inside of her, and Sherlock whines loudly.

“There we are. Make noise for me, sweetheart.”

“Lestrade, I-“ He stops her by licking her clit. Her hands tighten on his head, sliding uselessly over his short hair. She wraps her fingers around his jaw and her thumbs behind his ears and pulls him forward. He shuffles forward and licks deeper into her. “Bloody Hell, Lestrade, you’re good at that.” He slides two fingers into her, and she sighs happily. He looks up at her, tongue still in her, and she’s got her head back against the pillows and her eyes closed. He takes her clit in his mouth and licks against it and her head jerks up, eyes dark. He takes his mouth off her and strokes it with his thumb. She gasps and he smirks. He’s still got it. 50 years old and he’s got a 30 year old whining for him. “Condom, condom, now,” she says, pulling at him. She reaches for her bedside cabinet and takes one out, practically throwing it at him. He laughs, putting it on slowly. “Lestrade, I swear, if you’re not in in the next thirty seconds, you’re going out on your arse.” He slides into her and curses under his breath at how Goddamn wet she is. She sighs happily again and wraps her legs around his hips. She’s not forcing him to move, just keeping him close. For once, Lestrade is glad for his age because if he was a younger man, he doesn’t think he'd last long. He’s never had sex with an Omega, just Betas and the occasional Alpha woman. She’s wetter than both of them, and he slides his hand down to collect some and spread it along his cock. She gently tightens her legs, and he slides in completely. She makes a… purry chirp at him.

“What on Earth was that noise, love?”

“Mm. Chirrup,” she says. “As you might have noticed, it’s halfway between a chirp and a purr.”

“I like it,” he admits, lowering his head. She bares her throat for him again. He licks along it and thrusts his hips. She chirrups again. He braces his hand against her hip and his other against the bed and gets into a rhythm. She hums up at him, guiding his head down to mouth at his jaw. She curls her tongue out to lick, and his hips stutter. Omegas want to spread their scent, he knows, but he didn’t think it’d feel so good. She rubs her hands up and down his back, being careful with her nails. “You can mark me up, love,” he says, panting. “Long as I can do the same.”

She nods and digs her nails in with a hum, and he bites the front of her throat. He starts to leave a hickey like a teenager, releasing her with one final lick. He looks at it proudly for a few seconds as she shows it to him. He moves to the side of her neck and makes one there. He slides his hand down her body and touches her clit, and she arches and cums against him. He pauses. She comes down, panting, and he starts again. “Lestrade?”

“Didn’t think I’d let you go that easy, did you?”

She whimpers and tightens her grip on him. He grins and lowers himself on his elbows, bringing his mouth to hers. They kiss deeply, and he runs his tongue over her fangs. He pulls away and kiss the tip of her nose. She snaps her teeth at him playfully. He laughs- he’s never seen her like this- relaxed and happy. He figures it’s the hormones flooding her brain, plus the fact that he just made her cum. He pulls her hips up to get a better angle and starts again. She chirps at him. She touches his shoulders, running her hands softly down his arms. He settles into her touch and runs his thumbs over her hip bones. He eyes her tattoos and lowers himself again, running his tongue over them. She chirrups. He follows the line with his tongue, and they’re slightly rough under it. She brings her hand up to his face and drags it to hers. “Later.” He pauses.

“Later? There’s going to be a later?”

She shrugs. “I am going to be in Heat. I know you. You can help me through it.” He grins widely and kisses her deeply.

“Later,” he mumbles against her.

Lestrade makes her cum again on his cock and then he follows her. He noses at her, and she turns her face away so he can follow the line of her jaw. He presses a kiss to the hinge and gets a happy grumble. He pulls out and tosses the condom, coming back with a warm washcloth. He cleans her up and she chirrups. He tosses the cloth in the direction of her hamper.

Lestrade hums, curling up behind Sherlock. Sherlock lets him put his arm around her waist and kiss her shoulder. Sherlock goes to sleep. Lestrade soon leaves, dressing and going out. He just wants a drink. He’ll be back soon.

Sherlock wakes up, reaching back for Lestrade. Not finding him, she frowns and looks behind her. She touches the sheets- they’re cold. She whimpers, deep in her throat. She knows exactly what this is- a Drop. She fumbles for her phone and presses Joan’s number. “Joan,” she asks, voice quiet.

“Sherlock. What’s wrong?”

“He- he left.”

“Gareth?”

“Yes.”

“I’m coming home.” Sherlock nods, and Joan hangs up. She’s left just holding her phone. She turns over, burying her nose in Lestrade’s pillow. It mostly smells like her but she can pick out his faint scent. She uses it to soothe herself until Joan’s back.

Joan soon shows up in her doorway, maybe 20 minutes later, but it felt like hours to Sherlock. “Oh, Sherlock,” Joan sighs. She knows what happened.

“He left.”

“Hang on.”

Joan goes downstairs, looking around. She knows Sherlock keeps a spray bottle of Alpha scent around… somewhere. She finds it and returns to Sherlock. She sprays the pillow, and Sherlock hugs it to her, turning over. Joan gets in behind her, hugging her. “I’m sorry,” Joan says. “I’m so sorry.”

The next morning, Sherlock is still half-Dropped. She goes into work anyway.

“Hey,” Gregson pulls her aside. “You seem… Dropped.”

“A little hangover from last night,” Sherlock says, looking at the floor. Gregson takes off his jacket and wraps her in it. She curls her fingers around it and wraps it tighter around her. Gregson gently rubs up and down her arms. The scent and touch help to bring her out of it. “Thank you, Captain.” The man nods. She gives his jacket back.

Lestrade wanders into the precinct later on. Sherlock ignores him. “Oh, what, we shag and then you have no interest in me? What happened to 'later,'” he snaps. Sherlock stiffens and walks away from him. “Oi!”

Joan takes him by the arm and drags him into the conference room. “What is the matter with you,” she hisses. Sherlock slips in, closing the door behind her. She closes the shades.

“What, what’d I do, Joan,” Lestrade asks.

“You just left Sherlock.”

“I took care of her,” Lestrade defends himself. “Then I went out for a bit of a drink.”

“Exactly. You slept with her and then you left. And you never came back.”

“Well, I-“ “Save it, Gareth. I don’t want to hear it.” Joan crosses her arms. “Sherlock Dropped.”

Lestrade goes still. “You… went into an Omega Drop,” he asks, turning to Sherlock. She’s looking at the floor, but she nods. “Bloody Hell, Sherlock, I’m sorry,” he says. “I thought only Alphas could bring those on.”

“In a regular Heat, sure, they’re more likely to,” Sherlock says. “But it isn’t unheard of for a dominant Beta to provoke one. And this is not a regular Heat, as you noticed. It’s stronger, chemical. My body and hormones latched onto the first partner it could, and when I was sated, when you left,” she trails off. “I Dropped,” she shrugs.

“Shit, Sherlock,” Lestrade says, approaching her. She stiffens. Lestrade pauses and extends his hand to her. Sherlock considers before she gently touches his palm with just her fingertips. “See you at home.”

Gregson glares at Lestrade as he leaves. Lestrade just takes it.

Sherlock finds herself useless, so she leaves the goes home. She gets into comfortable clothes and goes downstairs finding Lestrade in the kitchen. She watches him. Lestrade turns and jumps. “Bloody Hell, Sherlock, you about gave me a heart attack.”

“Sorry.”

Lestrade puts aside the milk he’s holding and closes the door. “How are you feeling?” Sherlock shrugs. “That badly?” She nods. He exhales. “You go on up to your room. I’ll bring you something to eat, yeah?” Sherlock pauses.

“Can I go to your room instead?”

Lestrade softens. “Course, love.”

Sherlock goes to the room over and adjusts the pillows until she can sit up. She moves the blankets into a half-decent nest and settles in. Lestrade comes in with orange juice and some dry crackers. “Here, love,” he offers them. She takes them, eating slowly. “Do you want more pillows and blankets?”

Sherlock nods. Lestrade goes, collecting them from her room. He brings them back, and he lets Sherlock build a better nest in his bed. She makes it big enough for two and moves over. Lestrade takes the invitation, stripping to his shirt and boxers and climbing in. Sherlock pulls his hoodie closer and squirms into it. Lestrade lays back, extending his arm. Sherlock cuddles close, sighing. She manages to eat a little more, then she settles in. “Sleep, love,” Lestrade says, pressing a kiss to her hair. Sherlock buries her nose in his neck and drifts off. Lestrade pulls the book he had been reading closer. Some dime store novel he had picked up in a ‘whatever’ mood. Mystery. He already has the idea that the butler did it. He puts on his glasses and reads, listening to Sherlock’s steady breathing. He has a bit of trouble turning the pages with only one hand, but he manages it.

Sherlock starts to shiver about an hour later, so he gently rubs her, still reading. She shivers more violently, so he pulls a blanket out of the nest to wrap around her. She settles down. Lestrade’s eyes grow heavy, so he puts down the book, puts away his glasses, and curls up around Sherlock. He goes to sleep.

Lestrade wakes up halfway when he gets warm. He goes to remove the blanket against his front, only for his hand to find Sherlock. He opens his eyes slightly, frowning. She had kicked off the blanket he had put around her and had pushed away the rest of the blankets, disturbing the nest. He gently wraps his arm around her, and his palm comes in contact with where her shirt and his hoodie had ridden up. He snatches his hand back, hissing. She’s burning up. “Sherlock,” he shakes her. She just whimpers. “Sherlock, love, wake up.” He sits up, turning her over onto her back. He puts the back of his hand on her forehead and his eyes widen. That high of a temperature can’t be normal. “Hang on,” he says, going to find a thermometer. He puts it in her mouth and looks at his watch. He removes it and grabs his glasses, reading it. 108. “Shit! Sherlock, get up,” he says, dragging her into a sitting position.

“Lestrade, I don’t feel good,” Sherlock mumbles.

“I know, I know, come on love.” He pulls his hoodie off over her head and she drapes herself over him. He manages to pick her up and carries her upstairs, putting her in the tub. He puts on the cold water as high as it will go and leaves her there. He grabs his phone and calls Joan. “Pick up, pick up, pick up,” he whispers, watching over Sherlock. The woman isn’t even shivering.

“Gareth, hi,” Joan says.

“Joan, blimey. Sherlock’s got a fever of 108.”

“Get her in a cold shower. Now.”

“Already did.”

“Ok, hang up and call 911. Tell them to bring you to Bede’s, I have contacts there and their Heat rooms are the best. Tell them it isn’t a natural Heat. Go now.”

Lestrade hangs up and obeys. He unlocks the door and returns to sit beside Sherlock and wait for the paramedics.

“Are you her Alpha,” one of the paramedics asks when they arrive.

“I’m a Beta,” Lestrade admits. “But I’ve been helping her through it.”

“Then come with us.” The paramedics put the soaked woman on a stretcher, and Lestrade twists the water off before he follows them. He gets in the back of the ambulance and watches as the men pack Sherlock in ice.

“Lestrade?”

“I’m here, love,” Lestrade says, picking up Sherlock’s hand, which had been fumbling for him. Her skin is chilled. “You’re going to hospital, just hang on, alright?”

Sherlock nods. Lestrade isn’t a religious man, but he prays the entire ride to the hospital.

Lestrade hurries after Sherlock, who’s being wheeled in on a gurney. “What happened,” a doctor asks him.

“She’s a consultant for the police,” Lestrade says. “She was exposed to some kind of, I don’t know, chemical? It made her go into Heat,” he says.

“Temperature?”

“Down to 105 now,” a paramedic says. “This is Mr. Gareth Lestrade, he’s her partner.”

“Alpha?”

“Beta,” he says.

“Let’s get her into a Heat room, see how she does.”

The doctors put her in the bed, and Lestrade paces at the foot. “Lestrade,” she asks.

“Yeah, love?”

“Come here?”

“Course.” He gets in the bed behind her, curling around her.

“Ahem. Mr. Lestrade?” Lestrade glares over his shoulder. “You should let her cool down first.”

“She asked for me, and I’m supposed to just bloody ignore her?”

“You can hold her hand.”

Lestrade grits his teeth but gets out of bed, sitting on Sherlock’s side and just holding her hand between both of his. He lets go with one and smooths her hair back from her face. “You’re gonna be ok, love,” he whispers. “You’re safe here.”

“Mr. Lestrade, we need to know everything.”

Lestrade goes over everything he knows that happened from the last few days. He even guiltily admits he had brought on a Drop. The doctor nods and takes notes, only looking thoughtful. “She lives with a former doctor,” Lestrade says. “Joan Watson, she works with the 11th precinct. Ask for Captain Gregson.”

“Will do. Ms. Holmes, are you feeling better,” he asks.

“Cold,” she mutters.

“Let’s take your temperature. This goes under your tongue.” Sherlock obediently opens her mouth, and the doctor puts it inside. Lestrade strokes her hand softly as they wait. The doctor takes the thermometer out. “104. I’d like it to be lower. Would you like dry clothes to change into?”

“Please.”

“Alright. I’ll be right back.” The doctor leaves, and Lestrade gets in the bed with Sherlock. She huddles into him, and he rubs her skin. She’s still cold from the shower and the ice. The doctor comes back, putting some clean clothes on the bed. “Make sure to draw the curtains,” he says, pointing to the mirror taking up the most part of the wall opposite the bed.

“What, why,” Lestrade asks.

“It’s two-way glass,” Sherlock mutters. “For observation.”

Lestrade scowls, getting up and jerking the curtains closed. When he turns around, the doctor is gone. Sherlock sits up, peeling the wet clothes off her body. Lestrade feels himself stir. She gets dressed again, hanging her head and scrubbing her hands through her hair, shaking out the water. Lestrade sits on the end of the bed, watching her. “Thank you,” Sherlock says quietly. Lestrade is confused. “For getting me to hospital.”

“Course,” Lestrade says, reaching out for her. He touches her knee.

“Could you get in here,” Sherlock asks. “Warm me up?”

Lestrade nods, getting under the covers. He bundles Sherlock up, and the Omega burrows into him, throwing a leg between his. The cold immediately makes him soft. “Sorry,” she says. ��Felt that.”

“No need to apologize, love,” he says, putting his hand on the back of her head. She wraps around him, settling in. He rubs her back in soothing circles, and she starts to purr a little. Lestrade feels pride. He did that- made her so comfortable that she made that sound. Sherlock’s purr soon fades away, replaced by deep breathing.

Lestrade puts his head back against the pillow. He has to wait until Sherlock wakes up to do anything. Until then, he’s a heating pad. He looks around the room in the meantime- it’s nice. Sterile, but nice. White walls with cheap wood dressers, a door at the other side of the room from the entrance that he assumes is the bathroom. A table in the corner with a couple of chairs, a bedside table. All in all, it looks almost like a long-stay hotel room, if cheap and sterile. And if it smells sterile to him, it must be Hell on Sherlock. He rubs her again, pulling her close. She adjusts around him, not waking.

“Mr. Lestrade,” a voice sounds in the room, jerking him out of a light sleep.

“Yes?”

“Could you open the curtains please?”

Sherlock stirs against him, putting her chin on his chest. “Alright, love?”

“Go,” she says, pulling back. Lestrade gets up, pulling the curtains apart. All he can see is a reflection of the room. He walks backwards until he can sit on the bed. Behind him, he sees Sherlock sit up.

“Gareth,” Joan’s voice says.

“Joan. Have you and the police found anything?”

“Unfortunately, no. Mr. Jalopy is in the wind. Sherlock, you were right. We managed to pull some kind of gel off of that GSR test you did. We tried to analyze it, but the chemical isn’t registered. But his DNA was mixed in with the gel, and that was enough for Captain Gregson to get a search warrant.”

“Of course he is, and of course it isn’t,” Sherlock says. “Has a search of his home found any more of whatever he dosed me with?”

“No.”

“Bollocks,” the Brits say as one. Lestrade puts his hands on his knees.

“Is there anything you can do,” he asks.

“Wait it out.”

“Joan, she’s getting worse,” Lestrade protests. “Can’t they, I dunno, take her blood, see what’s going on?”

“They were waiting until she cooled down. Feel her forehead, is she cool?”

Lestrade turns, and Sherlock leans towards him. He puts the back of his hand on her forehead. “Maybe a tad bit warm,” he admits.

“The doctor’s going to come in and check on her. Is that ok?”

Lestrade and Sherlock nod. The intercom clicks off, and soon enough the doctor is walking into the room. “Ms. Holmes,” he starts. “I’m going to take a blood sample, as well as your pressure and temperature.”

Sherlock holds her arm out obediently. The doctor pulls out a needle, and Lestrade looks away, queasy. He always hated the things. Sherlock doesn’t make a peep when he slides it into her vein. “You can look now, Lestrade.” He does, and the doctor is holding a cotton ball to her arm. Sherlock takes over while he places a bandage over the wound. He caps the needle and puts it away. He takes her blood pressure.

“At least that’s good.” He takes her temperature again. “100 degrees,” the doctor says. “Much better.”

“Better? That’s still high!”

“Not for an Omega in Heat, it’s not,” Sherlock says. “Is there anything we can do?”

“Until we know what caused this, no. We have to assume this will pass like a normal, if a bit intense, Heat.” Sherlock nods. “Is there anything you want, anything that will make you more comfortable?”

“Everything here smells so… sterile,” Sherlock admits. “Could I have my own blankets? And various things? Lestrade, as well?”

“Mr. Lestrade mentioned that Ms. Watson lives with you. It shouldn’t be a problem for her to collect anything you want.”

“Thank you. Also, I’m hungry.”

“We’ll send in some food for you two.” The doctor nods, collecting his things. He leaves the room. Sherlock gets out of bed, going through the door at the other end of the room. Lestrade just watches her. “At least the bathroom is big,” she says. Lestrade follows her. The shower is big enough for both of them, he notices. All sorts of fun things start going through his head.

“No, we are not having shower sex.”

“I didn’t even say anything!”

Sherlock just huffs. “But I do know you, Lestrade.”

“Could you call me Gareth,” he asks.

“Sure.” The door opens, and the pair turn. A nurse brings in two trays, setting them on the bed. Sherlock goes, sitting on the bed. Gareth sits next to her.

“Now, which one’s mine,” he asks. She pushes one tray to him. “How do you know?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she says. “Omegas in Heat and their Alphas-“ she cuts herself off, Lestrade just staring at her. “And their partners require the same things. Carbs and protein. I just need more salt.”

“Hence the crisps,” Lestrade says, taking his and putting it on Sherlock’s tray. Sherlock squirms on the bed. “What’s wrong?”

“I,” Sherlock tries. “I want-“

“What do you want,” Lestrade asks.

“Contact.”

Lestrade moves to sit behind her. She leans against him and turns her nose into his neck, breathing in his scent. Alpha. She called me her Alpha, Lestrade thinks. They eat quietly. When they’re done, Lestrade stacks the trays and gets up, putting them by the door. He comes back to Sherlock, who tugs at him. Lestrade can’t figure out what she wants. “What do you need, love?”

“Lie down.” Lestrade lies back, and she lies next to him, pulling him so he’s on top of her. She settles immediately and bares her throat. Lestrade’s mouth goes there, and he licks. She purrs gently. She noses at his temple and turns her head on the pillow. “I’m going to sleep.” Lestrade just watches as she does. He waits until her breathing evens out, then tries to move. Her hands clutch at him, and he settles. He lays his head on her shoulder and tries to relax.

An hour later, Sherlock wakes up and starts to mouth at his jaw. “Sherlock?” She just hums, mouth going to behind his ear and kissing there. She touches that spot with her tongue, and he shivers. “I’ll just close the curtains.”

“You do that.” Lestrade is up like a shot and jerks the curtains closed. He turns around, seeing that Sherlock had kicked the blankets off and is waiting for him. He gets into bed, supporting himself over her.

“You’re bloody gorgeous, Sherlock.” Sherlock just hums, reaching up and putting her hand on the back of his head. She pulls him down into her mouth. Lestrade uses every single year of experience in the kiss, and Sherlock mewls into his mouth. He moans. Sherlock tugs his shirt off over his head, and Lestrade sits up, pulling Sherlock with him. She straddles his thighs and he strips her. She reaches into the bedside table and grabs a condom, handing it to Lestrade. He opens it, setting her on her back and rolling it onto himself. “You’re sure you don’t want-“ She interrupts him by grabbing his cock and pulling him into her. He moans through his teeth and she sighs in pleasure. He moves his left hand to hold onto her hip and his right to support himself over her. “You good, love?”

“Mm-hmm,” she nods, wrapping her legs around him. “Just move.” Lestrade pulls out halfway and then slides back in. She tilts her head back, humming. He watches her as he fucks her, and she’s comfortable, hands clenching on his shoulders. He tilts her hips up, and she happily adjusts around him. He grins.

“Good,” he asks.

“Yes.”

He noses at her jaw, and she happily turns her head. He scrapes his teeth there and she purrs. "Good girl." She hums. He turns her head back towards him and he kisses her. She bites his lip, and he chuckles. "Cheeky." She laughs.

"Did you expect anything else?"

"No," he admits, and starts kissing the front of her throat. She tilts her head back for him, and he can feel the purrs against his mouth.

He gets her to cum on his cock and follows her, content. He lowers himself over her, and she pants, nosing at his jaw. She licks over his stubble and he lets her mark him with her scent. She rests her head back against the pillow and he looks over his shoulder making sure the curtain is closed before he gets up and tosses the condom. He wets a washcloth and cleans himself up, doing the same for Sherlock. He looks around and tosses it where Sherlock had thrown her wet clothes. Sherlock opens her arms, and he settles into them, rolling onto his back. She snuggles into him, pressing her face into his neck. Huh. Sherlock Holmes is a cuddler. Who knew.

#elementary #elementary fic #elementary fanfic #a/b/o dynamics #alpha beta omega dynamics #elementary fanfiction #my fics

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springwitch8 · 8 months ago

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flowers and firsts (melissa schemmenti x fem!reader)

summary: being the gracious friend you are, you offer to share your weed with melissa and jacob for a fun friday night at their place. when jacob goes to bed, things get heated between you and your favorite coworker.

warnings: smut (18+), consensual high sex, recreational marijuana use (be responsible), strap-ons, praise kink, vibrators, soft melissa, stoner reader, attempts at comedy (it's a fun fic guys), mario kart 8 GONE SEXUAL

notes: happy 4/20. this wasn't requested, but my OCD is beating the fuck out of me rn and writing it brought me comfort. let me know what you think. much love from your favorite slutty stoner 💚

"i know kids are curious, but eighth grade is a bit early to try weed, right?" jacob bounced his leg anxiously as he raised the question to his friends in the teachers' lounge. one of his students had just been suspended for bringing marijuana to school, and jacob was characteristically worried about the kid.

"i started in tenth grade, but teenagers are growin' up younger and younger these days," melissa responded. barbara raised her eyebrows in shock, and melissa reacted with an amused half-smile. "like trouble over here. when was your first time, hon?"

you tried to ignore the innuendo as melissa invited you into the conversation. you had been hired to teach the third grade a few months ago. you and melissa had a rapport from the first moment you walked into the lounge. every time you were in a room together, you made each other laugh. melissa made you feel at ease in your new workplace, and you felt lucky to have her.

because you both got along so well, ava often paired you up for team-building exercises and combined-class activities. the two of you weren't exactly close friends yet, but you had chemistry. that much was obvious to everyone at abbott.

"tenth grade for me, too," you answered between sips of your morning coffee. "a friend and i did it in the bathroom before art class. good memories."

"what, did you have some kinda fancy vape pen?" melissa cocked an eyebrow at you.

"i wouldn't call it fancy, but yeah, we mostly smoked carts," you explained. "bought 'em from the upperclassmen in the parking lot before school. i'm pretty sure they weren't pure weed, though. we had to be smoking battery acid, or plastic or something."

"god, your generation is weird. smokin' chemicals out of a flash drive," melissa said, gesturing wildly to convey her amazement. "the first time i got high was in detention. my buddy steve would sneak in and bring us cigarettes and blunts. they all looked the same, so we played russian roulette with it. now everybody walks around with those neon devices in their pockets."

"i can't tell if you're being serious or if you're referencing the breakfast club," you giggled, nudging the redhead's shoulder jokingly as you sat down next to her.

"ha ha, very funny, little miss," melissa deadpanned. you had asked her to stop calling you "kid" a few weeks ago. she respected your wishes by coming up with all sorts of endearing synonyms to call you instead. "what about you, jacob? you used to vape—ever experimented with mary jane?"

"or mark john?" you added. melissa snorted and gave you a playful swat on the arm.

"no, actually, i haven't," jacob said, rolling his eyes at your quip. "i didn't have many friends in high school or college, and after that i had to be drug tested regularly for teachers without borders. i never got the chance."

"well, if you ever feel like trying something new, i have plenty to share," you offered. "can't have you over at my place, though; every time i bring guests around, my crazy neighbor thinks they're cia operatives."

everyone in the room except melissa gave you a shocked look. barbara looked especially aghast, her brightly painted lips curled into an 'o' shape.

"damn, i thought janine was the only after-school stoner here. what a pleasant surprise!" ava broke the silence.

"i suppose i would partake given one of those weed pens you mentioned," jacob said to you. "the only thing i've been vaping lately is air, and it gets stale after a while."

"oh no, i haven't used a cart since high school," you clarified. "if you're smoking with me, you're smoking. don't worry, it's easy. just like vaping, but better in every way."

"first of all, no smoke circle is happening under my roof without me." melissa chimed in, looking at you with a silent question in her eyes. you nodded—of course you wanted her there. "and second, where do you even get the weed? if you buy the legal stuff from new york or massachusetts, you're not bringin' it to my house."

"i wouldn't dream of it," you affirmed. "i only smoke authentic philly weed. don't worry about it; i got a guy."

---

that friday night, you showed up on melissa's doorstep wearing a casual t-shirt dress, with a tote bag full of goodies slung over your shoulder. jacob was the one to answer the door.

"hey! come on in, melissa's making pizza," he said cheerfully, a bit jittery with anticipation.

you followed jacob inside and found melissa leaning over the kitchen island, smiling fondly at you. she was wearing sweatpants and a loose-fitting striped shirt, with her hair loose and a bit messy from cooking. she looked radiant and comfortable.

"you know, the pizza will taste better if we smoke before dinner," you proposed.

"bold of you to assume my pizza could taste any better," melissa joked back.

"i'm game," jacob said. "i want the full marijuana experience."

"in that case, help me set up," you said to the history teacher. "i want you to see how everything works."

you laid the contents of your tote bag out on the island countertop: a ziploc baggie full of flower, a little purple grinder, a holographic pink bowl, and a yellow lighter with white flowers on it.

"jacob, this is a grinder," you said, uncapping the grinder and opening the ziploc bag. "we're gonna use it to break up the flower into little pieces."

"oh wow, that is... pungent," jacob remarked. he watched as you ground up the weed, then handed the pink glass bowl to him.

"and this is a bowl, or a pipe if you're lame," you said. "you wanna do the honors?"

jacob grinned and reached into the grinder, bouncing excitedly on his heels. you put a hand on his shoulder to steady him. he filled the bowl, looking to you for approval several times while he did it.

"awesome, we're ready," you said. melissa placed her pizza in the oven and joined the circle.

"let's take it out on the patio," melissa suggested.

she led you and jacob out to the patio, a small ledge overlooking the city with three chairs conveniently set up in a tight circle. it was 7pm and the sun had just begun its descent, casting philadelphia in an orange glow.

the three of you sat down. you held the bowl up to your lips and moved to light it, but melissa snatched the lighter from your hand. she leaned in and held the flame to the bowl, her face inches from yours. you tried to concentrate on the task at hand, rather than her painted lips or her vivid green eyes dancing all over you.

you took a long inhale of the smoke and blew it up toward the sky. melissa plucked the bowl out of your hand and took a hit. she held the smoke in her lungs for an impressive amount of time for someone who didn't smoke regularly. she passed the still-lit bowl to jacob.

as soon as jacob took his hit, you knew it was gonna hurt. he overestimated his own lung capacity, and he didn't even finish blowing the smoke out before he was coughing.

"happens to everybody, pal," melissa patted jacob's back to ease his pain.

"ugh!" jacob sputtered between coughs. "why didn't you guys tell me smoking hurts?"

---

several rotations later, the three of you were high. well, you and melissa were high; jacob was outright fried. not altogether unexpected, but funny as hell.

when melissa's pizza was done, you all resolved to eat outside so you could watch the sunset together.

"this is heavenly, mel," you moaned after a delicious bite of the pizza.

"ha!" jacob exclaimed, and you and melissa turned to him, confused. meeting melissa's gaze, he threw his arms up in the air—like he expected her to understand what he meant by that one noise. "she stole two syllables from your name. you can't just take syllables, y/n. they're not yours."

"since when do you care about private property rights?" you quipped back before turning your attention to melissa. "i'm serious though. this pizza is sooo good. like last-meal-on-death-row good."

"keep talkin' sweet like that, and you can call me whatever you want," melissa replied with a wink, sending a flood of warmth to your face.

"what were we talking about? just now?" jacob chimed in, his eyes wide and darting every which way.

"... i actually don't know," you said with a giggle. you tried to remember, you really did. but you could feel melissa's eyes on you, and you heard her words echoing in your head. and it was hard to focus on anything else.

"short term memory loss! add that to the list of things you guys didn't warn me about," jacob scoffed.

"jacob, eat your damn pizza," melissa cut in. a peaceful smile graced her lips as she stared out at the city skyline, now a twilight blue in the absence of the sun. "i've missed this feeling, everythin' all fuzzy and light. how are you holding up, lovebug?"

your heart fluttered at the endearing name. melissa, it seemed, wore her heart on her sleeve when she was high—judging by the adoring way she gazed at you while she awaited your response. maybe the weed was messing with your head, but you swore she'd never looked so beautiful.

her eyes lacked any trace of the fire you were used to seeing (though they were quite red). for once, she wasn't on guard. her plump lips curled around her wine glass as she took a sip of merlot, vocalizing her sensual appreciation with a hum.

her long auburn hair was tucked behind her ears, resting on her shoulders in loose waves instead of her preferred meticulous curls. you wanted to run your fingers through her locks, feel their softness and smell her shampoo.

entranced by the redhead, you forgot she had asked you a question. melissa tapped your knee in reminder.

"i feel perfect," was your soft reply. you were beaming brightly before the sentence even finished. rather than sitting in a chair, you felt like you were floating on a cloud. the colors of melissa's patio and the sky blended together in a beautiful, swirling mosaic. the sounds of the city were clear and pleasant as philly wound down for the night. "i'm so happy."

"glad to hear it, sunshine. but i'm pretty sure jacob is asleep," melissa chuckled and patted the man's shoulder. he didn't stir, remaining slumped and conked out in his chair. "he's been losin' sleep over the kid who got suspended. bending over backwards trying to keep 'em on track."

"oh gosh," you said sympathetically before patting jacob a bit more firmly than melissa had. "jacob, hey. c'mon, it's time for bed. get up, go get cozy."

your words were slurred and hushed, but they seemed to pierce the veil of jacob's slumber as he awoke with a start.

melissa stood behind jacob's chair, gently rocking it back and forth to bring him back to the conscious world.

"can't go to bed, we just started," jacob grumbled, but his eyes were still closed. he was dangerously close to falling asleep again.

"from the looks of it, you're either gonna spend the night sleepin' in this chair or in your bed, so get up," melissa said resolutely.

"yeah, and besides, there's always next time," you assured jacob as he stretched and groaned his way into an upright position. you made eye contact with melissa, and this time you winked.

---

after helping jacob into bed (his motor skills really deteriorated when he got high) and smoking another bowl together, you and melissa were ready to continue your night.

"alright, sweetheart, it's down to you and me," melissa said, sitting down next to you on the couch. "what do you wanna do?" you pondered the question, looking around the room for inspiration.

"oh my god, you have a nintendo switch?" you asked excitedly, gesturing to the black tablet plugged in next to the cable box.

"that's jacob's. he showed me one of the games on there—animal crossing, i think it was. i don't get it. why play a game if you can't win?"

"alright, i know what we have to do now," you said, walking over to jacob's game cabinet and pulling out mario kart 8. holding the case up for melissa to see, you grinned. "four races. whoever wins gets whatever she wants from the other."

you were distantly aware of the implications, but you were too high to reconsider what you'd proposed.

you figured melissa would want something from your thoroughly decorated classroom if she won. if you won, you'd ask her to make you a custom pizza.

"you have no idea what you just started, hon," melissa said with a confident smirk.

"may the best woman win."

---

how the hell was she so good at everything?

melissa had needed some time to warm up to the switch controls, complaining about how the little red rectangle was too small to hold comfortably. but she was a quick learner with skilled fingers, and soon she was absolutely demolishing you.

it also didn't help that your coordination escaped you when you were high. you had driven off of too many ledges to count.

"two wins in a row for luigi," melissa bragged as she crossed the finish line of the third race. "hope you're ready to give me whatever i want, princess. don't think i forgot about our bet."

"daisy won the first race," you pointed out calmly. "i can still bring it back. but you know what this last race has to be?"

"what?"

"rainbow road. it's the perfect final showdown course," you explained, navigating to the course with your controller.

"get ready to be mine for a night," melissa said lowly. god, you knew she was talking about the bet, but she knew damn well what she was doing. by this point your panties were almost uncomfortably wet.

you leaned into her unconsciously as the race countdown began. you both held your controllers tight, almost shoulder to shoulder.

3...

2... (you push down the gas pedal button)

1...

GO!!!

daisy took off with a boost of speed thanks to your timing. luigi had a false start as his engine blew out. you cheered, and melissa cursed.

"how the fuck do you do that?" she asked, exasperated.

"play the game!" you demanded without looking away from the screen.

the competition was intense. you and melissa weaved around curves, nearly fell off the road, passed and bumped each other. neither one of you spoke until lap 3.

coming up on one of the last turns of the last lap, your hands jerked and you swerved. reacting on instinct, you bent your arms dramatically in the other direction to overcorrect.

melissa's arm bumped into yours, sending your controller flying out of your hands.

"hey!" you said, thinking she was cheating.

"hey yourself," she said, her eyes still fixed on the screen.

if she was gonna play dirty, so were you. you thrust your arm forward to grab her controller. but she saw you coming from a mile away. effortlessly, she shifted the controller into her left hand alone and held it up and out of your reach.

desperately competitive (and stupid high), you launched yourself toward the controller. you'd stop at nothing to get even. before you could snatch it out of her grasp, though, your balance faltered. you fell out of your position and started to fall backwards off the couch.

melissa dropped the controller and wrapped her arms around you, pulling you back up before you could hurt yourself. there was only one problem with this heroic act.

you were in her lap now.

her hands remained clasped at the small of your back, and your balance shifted forward. you put your arms out for stability, and wrapped them around her neck.

"careful, don't hurt your pretty head," melissa cooed. the two of you stared at each other for a moment. she surged forward and pressed her lips to yours.

if sitting outside with her felt like floating, kissing her and feeling her body against yours felt like riding the ocean waves. but unlike the atlantic, she was warm. you relaxed into her warmth as her tongue licked into your mouth.

you felt her tongue everywhere. in response to her, you gave a few tentative kitten licks. she moaned, she moaned, and pulled back before giving you one last kiss on the lips.

she stared at you with heated eyes for a while before switching her focus to the tv.

"look, baby," she said smugly while gesturing to the tv screen, where luigi was driving victory laps after placing first on rainbow road. "i won. you remember what that means?"

it was a fair question, considering how many conversations you forgot happened tonight. still, you nodded shyly and bit your lip.

"smart girl," melissa praised. "can you guess what i want from you?"

you shook your head no with a frown. melissa beamed and kissed you on the forehead. then she leaned in to whisper in your ear.

"i wanna touch you everywhere. i wanna hear your pretty voice moan my name and see your face scrunch up when you come. i want you to feel me all over you, and i want you to spend the rest of your life craving that feeling," melissa said her piece all at once, as if revealing a long-buried secret to you and herself.

you swallowed.

"would you let me do that?"

you nodded, pressing your forehead against hers.

"i need to hear you say it," she said softly, so softly you almost missed it.

"i want you, melissa. i have since the day we met."

that was all the confirmation melissa needed to attack your face and neck with kisses.

"sorry, let me just," melissa said as she pulled away abruptly and reached for the tv remote. she changed it to cable mode and navigated to the jazz music channel. "there we go, perfect."

"you're ridiculous," you giggled upon seeing melissa's proud face.

"honey," she leaned in to nip at your ear before whispering, "watch your mouth. you wanna be on my good side tonight, trust me."

you shuddered and wiggled in her lap, aching for her touch. a slow grin spread across her face and her hands found your legs, running up your thighs and lightly dragging her nails along your skin. they soon made their way up your waist to your breasts, cupping and squeezing them. melissa even took two fingernails and circled your nipples teasingly, to which you squeaked.

"do you know how many times i thought about havin' you like this?" melissa whispered. her voice was sweet like molasses and flowed right through you. you could feel your nipples tingling where her fingers had been, swimming in a bubble of desire. "in my lap, all whiny and squirmy."

she pinched your nipple and you keened. you held your breath as her hands once again traveled to your thighs, making a beeline for your core.

"and now i got my angel in my arms," she said, gently spreading your legs for better access. you sucked in a breath and trembled when her palm caressed you through your panties. "but i gotta say, even in my imagination you were never this wet for me."

she punctuated the sentence by pressing her pointer finger on your clit through the fabric, drawing tiny circles. you gasped and hid your face in her neck. the high made every touch feel like it rippled through your whole body. the world felt like it had been knocked off its axis, and melissa was your new center of gravity.

"aw, don't be embarrassed, babygirl. it's cute you're so sensitive," melissa soothed, easing you out of the crook of her neck to face her again. she trailed her fingers down to swirl around your wetness under your panties. "let me take care of you, yeah?"

---

a few minutes later, you were spread out on melissa's bed, naked save for your (now useless) panties. she'd practically carried you to her room as you were baked and horny and unable to walk straight.

in spite of your writhing and needy whines, the redhead took her time to savor you. she kissed every inch of your torso before she even considered taking your panties off, mumbling sweet nothings between love bites.

when she finally pulled away to admire her work, the view did not disappoint. you were panting and covered in melissa's marks, and god, you were her favorite piece of art ever created. all hers.

"alright, sweet girl, i know," she cooed as you continued to plead for her touch with your best pout and puppy eyes. unable to resist you, melissa hooked two fingers in the waistband of your panties. "i'm gonna slip these off ya, okay? there, down they go."

melissa discreetly tucked the saturated material into her pocket. not as a trophy or proof of her conquest; rather, a token from the first of many magical nights with her girl. she would treasure it.

she wasted no time getting situated between your legs so she was face-to-face with your pussy. she inhaled deeply, basking in the heady aroma of your arousal. you overwhelmed her senses. everything she saw, everything she smelled, everything she felt, everything she thought—it was all one big, bottomless pool of you. and there was only one sense left for you to conquer.

the first drag of her tongue up your slit set you ablaze, flames licking from your core all the way to your extremities and your head. she let out a small noise of appreciation, and you felt it more than you heard it.

"you taste like fuckin' heaven," melissa rumbled between determined licks through your folds. her comment reminded you of the pizza, and you found yourself amused at how much things had changed in just a few hours.

"last-meal-on-death-row good?" you joked, and melissa seized the moment of levity to latch onto your clit. you cried out before remembering jacob was sleeping in the next room. you clapped a hand over your mouth.

"mhmmmmm," she moaned in agreement, and the vibrations on your bundle felt incredible. "but if you're still crackin' jokes, i'm not doin' my job."

with that, she shut you up completely. her tongue poked at your clit between harsh sucks. your back arched and melissa changed her strategy, prodding at your entrance with her tongue while her fingers took over on your clit. when her tongue penetrated you, you bit down on your hand to keep from screaming.

"i said i wanna hear you, remember?" melissa pulled out to chastise you.

"but jacob—" you managed.

"is passed out. he's dead to the world. now sing for me, angel," melissa's tongue dove back into your weeping cunt and lapped at your walls. you wailed her name.

"oh, mel, right—ahhh—there!" you mewled as her tongue teased your most sensitive spot. now that she'd located her target, melissa changed her play once again. two fingers replaced her tongue and crooked into your g-spot while her mouth returned to your clit. "close..."

melissa nodded her permission, her mouth busy with your button. with another hard roll of your clit between her lips and drive of her fingers into your sweet spot, you fell apart. you moaned and cried unbidden as she worked you through your orgasm, which felt twice as powerful thanks to the intoxication factor. your body shook in the grip of seemingly endless waves of heat.

your climax eventually died down and you squirmed away from melissa's touch. your mouth opened in dismay when instead of staying by your side, she stood up and disappeared into her closet.

after a short while, the older woman reappeared by your side. she was now nude and sporting a long, girthy strap-on. she placed a few other items on the nightstand, but you couldn't tear your eyes away from the thick faux cock. unless it was to look at her gorgeous tits, which swung with her every move. she was a goddess.

"okay, sweets, i'm gonna spell this out nice and slow because i know your brain is a little messy right now," she said as she crawled on top of you. "i'm gonna fuck you with my strap. and i know it's so big, but i have this to help you take it."

melissa reached over to the nightstand and retrieved a green mini wand vibrator. her intentions were clear, and you gulped. the redhead peppered kisses all over your face in reassurance.

"now relax, little love. let me in," melissa instructed as the wand buzzed to life. she smeared your wetness around your clit with her fingers, then pulled back its hood to position the vibrator tightly against your nub. even the lowest setting was a shock at such a direct angle.

while you were distracted trying to adjust to the clitoral stimulation, melissa aligned the tip of the dildo with your entrance and pushed in. you both groaned, and you felt yourself stretch around the toy. melissa turned up the vibrations on your clit as she progressed to being fully seated inside you.

"that's a good girl, so brave," melissa cooed. you thrashed underneath her, the sensations overstimulating you. the pain of the intrusion staved off a powerful orgasm from the wand vibrator.

again, you wondered if the drugs were messing with your mind—the dildo felt indistinguishable from a part of mel's body, and you were full to the brim of her.

as she began to rock her hips back and forth, you saw her bite her lip. you assumed that the strap had some kind of clit attachment for her based on the telltale signs of pleasure.

melissa built up a steady rhythm and drank in your pathetic sounds of pleasure. her tits swung in your face with every thrust, and you made a mental note to give them proper attention next time. with another tactical increase to the wand's speed, you felt yourself approaching the edge once more.

"you gettin' close? yeah, i can tell. feels too good to hide it, huh bunny?" that was a new one. you clenched at her words and she set the wand to its maximum power, rubbing it up and down on your clit. your vision went white and you spun out of reality as you came. "that's my girl. good little princess, coming so hard for me."

with a few more thrusts, melissa also came to a release. she shuddered and shimmied her hips at random while she rode it out. as soon as she recovered, she turned off the green wand and relieved you. next, she eased herself out of and off of you.

with a chaste peck to your lips, she sat upright and reached for the nightstand. she smiled at your fucked-out expression as she laid out the pajamas she'd picked out for you.

you watched in awe as she took off the strap and put on her own sleep clothes. her red hair was wild from the night's activities and glowed like a warm hearth against the white backdrop of her walls.

in your state, you wanted nothing more than to cuddle up with melissa and fall asleep. but she insisted that you get ready for bed so that you'd be comfortable through the night. she guided you into the bathroom and gave you a new toothbrush to use.

returning to the bedroom, you found a silky green nightgown with flowers on it waiting on the bed for you. given your exhausted and intoxicated state, melissa had to help you into it. neither of you minded. as a reward for your cooperation, she gave you a kiss.

the two of you snuggled into bed, tucked in together with you curled up against her chest. the tides of slumber lapped at your feet.

"g'night, lovebug," melissa whispered as you drifted off. "sleep well. see you in the morning."

and tomorrow would be the first of a lifetime of tomorrows waking up in her arms.

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x y/n #melissa schemmenti x you #abbott elementary fanfic #melissa schemmenti smut #wlw smut #4/20 friendly #stoner fic #fanfic

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pnfc · 1 month ago

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today i was revisiting the pnf choose your own adventure book where the author they roped in to write it has an only middling understanding of pnf, thinks candace is blonde etc, but still got this much correct

#get you a fandom where you can purchase ebooks written for elementary schoolers and derive shipfuel from them #its invigorating #eta: now im laughig imagining the concept of doof reader insert fic but he just wont shut up about perry and keeps asking you to bring perr #PLEASE bring perry i NEED perry get out of my face until you have perry THANKS #etaeta: he would NOT call him agent p. well maybe he does in the blonde candace universe

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milfjuulpod · 8 months ago

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five times melissa is possessive

content warnings: mentions of alcohol

“You get locked out of your computer again?” You asked with a smile as you entered Melissa’s classroom. She had texted you that she needed help with something, so here you were within a minute. “No, I can't find the worksheets I downloaded and I don’t even know what to search for. I’m so frustrated I wanna rip the computer off the desk and chuck it out the window,” The older teacher responded, getting out of her chair to make room for you and leaning against the desk she threatened to do damage to.

Sitting down, you began combing through her files in her downloads folder. You found them immediately, but didn’t wanna bruise her ego by telling her straight away. You leaned back, and a small but ornate picture frame caught your eye. Inside, it held a photo of you and Melissa, standing outside of a restaurant downtown.

You remembered that day like it was yesterday. It was the first time you had hung out with the redhead outside of work, the two of you arrived together meeting everyone to watch a game.

“C’mon hon, I’ll drive you home.”

“Wait! I need a picture, of us.”

Melissa’s laugh was like music to your ears, a symphony of happiness and warmth. “A picture? For what? Proof that I didn’t kidnap ya?”

“No silly, proof that we hung out and had a good time. You know, for the memories.”

She chuckled but accepted, wrapping her arm around your waist as she pulled you in and leaned in close for the picture.

“Perfect. I’ll send it to you.”

“Whatcha lookin’ at over there?” Melissa’s voice pulled you from the memory. “This picture of us, cute that you have it up here,” You told her, tracing your fingers over the details on the frame. She smiled before responding, “Yeah, I like to look at it throughout the day, it reminds me that I still have good things in the world.”

II.

The gym was full of bustling bodies getting ready to hear the announcement Abbott’s fun-loving principal had prepared for the day. Of course right next to each other were Melissa and Barbara, but Melissa’s purse held the seat to her right. Countless times she denied teachers and staff the chair, despite how full the room was getting. She was running out of excuses at this point, even Barbara had to ask. “Who are you holding that seat for?”

As if on cue, you finally came through the double doors. Janine waved you over to her, somehow she saved and scored seats close enough to the front, but a low voice stopped you from continuing in that direction.

“Hey, kid,” Melissa hollered for you and motioned you towards her. Silently, you stood for a second, torn between the better seat and Melissa. Not to mention if you ignored Janine, you’d have to spend the next week making up for it. Upsetting Melissa, you’d have to spend the next...

Quickly you made up your mind and walked towards the redhead, and she moved her purse just in time for you to sit down. You mouthed an apology to your other friend just in time.

“Finally, what took you so long?” Melissa asked you quietly, as Ava could now be seen on stage.

“Sorry, I was trying to finish up the last batch of test grading for the week.” You answered, honestly. Trying to keep your voices down, Melissa and you scooted closer together, leaning into each other’s spaces. Although, you noticed the older woman had stuck her heeled boot around the leg of your chair and you realized you couldn’t move it if you tried.

Despite Ava starting her announcement, Melissa kept talking to you. “It’s okay, hon. I just had to fight off a couple of vultures to keep this seat for ya.” You blushed at the idea of Melissa shooing people away from the chair you currently occupied.

“You didn’t have to do that, y’know. Save the seat for me and all. I’m sure I would’ve found space somewhere. But thank you.” Melissa huffed at your response and tried (barely) to not roll her eyes. “I know, but I like sitting here. I always sit here.”

You squinted at her for a moment, trying to connect the dots between your statement and hers. What did it matter that she liked sitting here? Nonetheless, you started paying attention to whatever the principal was talking about now, in hopes that it had been enough time for her beginning rambles to have subsided.

As the presentation came to an end, slowly everyone shuffled out of the gym and to their respective rooms, and quietly the three of you waited in your chairs for the masses to leave. While people-watching the room, you picked up on the conversation to your left.

“I should’ve known,” Barbara muttered to her friend. You assumed Melissa gave her a confused look, because Barbara not-so-subtly gestured to you and your seat. Melissa just rolled her eyes once again, but turned her attention to you. Her green eyes made you feel a rush of emotions as they met your own. “Hi,” she said quietly, as if she was worried about scaring you off. “Hi,” you replied. “Ready to go?” She asked, grabbing both of your bags off the floor as the two of you stood up.

The walk back to everyone’s classrooms was quiet, but you didn’t miss the look Barbara gave her friend again as she made her way into her own room. “Here’s your bag, hon. I’ll see you at lunch?” Melissa asked, handing you your belongings as she leaned against the doorframe of your classroom. “Yes you will, and thank you.” You replied, trying to hide the blush with your hair as you took your bag from Melissa and finally found peace inside your own classroom.

III.

You walked with your favorite redhead up and down the aisles of the grocery store, picking up ingredients for dinner tonight. After having a rough day, Melissa offered to make you dinner. You agreed, but only if she’d let you be there for every part, including the store. Usually the Italian liked keeping every part of cooking to herself, but she found herself enjoying sharing it with you. Even the mundane aspects like the grocery store were turned into such a lovely time between the two of you.

“I’ll go pick out the onions for the sauce, last time I left the job to someone else I regretted it. Would you mind picking out the wine hon? I’ll meet ya over there and then we can check out.” Melissa asked before leaving the aisle the two of you were in.

“Sure, see you over there,” You replied, and the two of you split ways momentarily. Taking your time, you slowly went down the first aisle of wines, reading each label carefully. Even though Melissa always trusted you with the wine, you were nervous every time. Down the second aisle, a gentleman approached you.

“Need help finding anything ma’am?” He asked. You took a step back from the wines before replying.

“Oh, no, thank you. My friend will be here in just a moment.” You went back to scanning the bottles, but the employee continued talking.

“I see you’re looking at our Bogle merlot! You know there’s a great winery with a merlot that has a very similar palette.”

“That’s nice, is it close by?” You asked to be nice, but didn’t bother looking at the man.

“It is, I know this area very well. Grew up here my whole life.” He replied. A couple minutes passed like this, him grasping at straws to continue the conversation and you completely disinterested. Finally, you grabbed a bottle and started walking away.

“Y’know if that’s all you’re getting I can check you out over here!” He offered. Before you could deny him yourself, a familiar voice spoke up from behind the two of you.

“She’s with me actually, we were just leaving,” Melissa announced her presence and began walking towards the two of you. You hoped the employee couldn’t read her as well as you could, but based on his wide eyes, your hope fell flat. It was clear the redhead was annoyed, and annoyed at him no less. She refused to break eye contact with him, glaring the entire time. When she caught up to you, she didn’t bother slowing down as she looped her arm with yours and continued to the checkout line.

“Took long enough Mel,” You teased, hoping to calm her down. Her lack of response told you it didn’t work. “I’m excited for dinner tonight, and I hope you liked the wine I picked out.”

“I’m sure I will, and I hope that guy loses his job here so he can stop preying on pretty girls that come by to get wine for their dinner plans,” She spat, but not at you. She was good at never making it at you.

“Oh calm down, babe. He was just doing his job,” You lied. You knew he was being a little too nice to you, but Melissa didn’t need to know those details.

“Well he was doing it too well for my liking.”

“I’ll make sure to never leave your side at the grocery store again, that way if another too good employee comes by you can stop them for me,” You joked. Melissa smiled again, and it was a beautiful sight to see.

“Good, I don’t like getting mean in front of ya.”

“Yes, you do!” You laughed. Melissa loved getting an attitude in front of you. She knew you liked it just as much as she did.

“Yeah, I guess I do.”

IV.

Melissa knew she had a jealous streak, and when it came to you, a possessive streak as well. Most of the time neither of you minded, it made you feel special and the redhead feel wanted. Occasionally, Melissa had a hard time containing her emotions, especially the feelings she has towards you. She hated when those came to the surface.

So she sat, filled with jealousy and self-pity, as she watched you ignore her existence throughout the entire lunch period. Usually, you sat right next to her, she could talk about her morning and you would listen, occasionally offer advice. She loved getting to hear your version of your morning, since it was usually very dramatic and made her giggle, always.

Not today, though. Today, you were too occupied with the new librarian. Instead of listening to Melissa rambling, you were listening to him. She knew you didn’t like men very much, but it didn’t matter. The fact that you didn’t even greet her and there was only ten minutes left of lunch was enough to ruin her mood. Before the bell rang, Melissa sighed and packed up her things as quickly as she could. She said goodbye to Barbara, but not to you. If you weren’t going to say hello, she wasn’t going to say goodbye. She did, however, give you a dirty look at the last second before the door shut behind her.

You froze, it had been a long, long time since Melissa has given you a look like that one. Usually it was reserved for serious issues or people she didn’t care for too much, so you started going over the day in your head wondering what was going on with her. This morning you hadn’t seen her, and you hadn’t stopped by to chat with her for lunch yet, so-

There it was. With a sigh of relief you ended your conversations and made your way to the feisty redhead’s classroom. Instead of knocking, you slowly opened the door and allowed yourself in.

“Hi lovely, how was your lunch? I didn’t get a chance to talk to you so I wanted to stop by before grabbing the kiddos,” You announced your presence to the other woman, which went almost ignored. It wasn’t until you made it all the way to her desk that she spoke to you.

“Lunch was fine, I noticed you were busy with the fresh new hire so I kept my distance. Seemed like you needed it,” She responded shortly. She knew what she was doing was wrong, but she couldn’t help it. She wanted your attention desperately, even if it was negative.

“Melissa...” You started, waiting for her to meet your gaze before continuing. She looked at you with anger, but you knew her, you knew that look. The only other time it happened was when you ditched your plans with her for an impromptu tinder date that went poorly. (She never let you live that mistake down, by the way). She was hurt, her feelings were hurt and she didn’t want to tell you.

“Why are you yelling at me? Is it because I didn’t talk to you all day?” You asked with a hint of teasing in your voice, enough to let Melissa know you were serious but not upset with her. She nodded, still having trouble admitting exactly what was going on inside the beautiful mind of hers.

“You know just because I’m friends with other people doesn’t mean I love you any less. And if you wanted to talk to me, you could’ve done so.”

Melissa sat there for a moment, digesting your words slowly. She looked away before responding. “I know, I just-It’s hard. I want your attention but I don’t want to ask for it. If you’re not giving it to me then I just think you don’t want to anymore.”

“Mel, no, no.” You stepped closer into her bubble and leaned against her desk. “I’ll stop anything I’m doing for you. Just ask, if I’m not showering you with enough love and affection already.” She smiled at that, thankful to realize you weren’t that mad at her.

“Okay, sorry for snapping at you hon. I won’t do it again,” Melissa looked up at you through her eyelashes and pouted out her bottom lip. You knew it would probably happen again, but you didn’t care. After a few months of nonstop flirting and teasing, you figured out Melissa returned some sort of feelings for you. However, it was just as clear that she was scared of whatever this was. Every time the two of you got close to having that conversation, she backed away. You could practically see the words falling off her lips before she would swallow them again. So you remained patient with her, she was worth waiting for. That much you knew.

“It’s okay my love, just save the glare for the other guy next time, yeah?” You playfully shoved her shoulder to punctuate your sentence, which got you an eye roll from the Italian. “Yeah, yeah, you’re fine.” You gave her one more sincere smile and hopped off the desk to go back to your own classroom.

“Hon?” Melissa’s voice stopped you at the door.

“Yeah?”

“I love you too.”

It had been a few weeks since Melissa’s last “outburst,” if you would even call it that. But the “days since last incident” counter was about to go down to zero.

Melissa sat at the bar, waiting for your drink and hers, as she watched you float between your friends. She let her green eyes roam over your figure, the way your dress hugged your skin so tightly, she wished it was her own hands. The way you so effortlessly swayed your hips to the music, like you didn’t even realize it was happening. The older woman was so mesmerized, she almost missed the bartender setting down the two drinks beside her. As soon as she got sight though, she grabbed them and made her way over to you.

Out of the corner of your eye, there she was, beautiful as ever. It didn’t matter if it was the alcohol or Melissa, but you felt incredible.

“Thank you beautiful, what do I owe ya?” You asked as you grabbed your drink from your friend’s hand.

“How about a dance?” She answered your question with a question. Melissa let you take a couple sips before taking the drink back and dropping them off with your friends. As she turned around, the woman was about as red as her hair when she saw a man coming up behind you getting ready to try and dance.

You don’t know whose hands were on you first, but very quickly you were behind Melissa as she was staring down a much taller man.

“Can we help you?” She yelled more than she asked, keeping an arm over your side as she kept you behind her. You knew what was about to happen, the stranger was going to say something sly, Melissa would say something worse, and you’d calm her down before getting her on the dance floor again. Something in you decided to change that routine though, usually you stayed quiet when she got this way, stayed clear from the path of Schemmenti rage and watched thoroughly entertained.

Instead of staying out of her way this time and waiting for her, you leaned into it. How could you not when Melissa was getting ready to fight someone over you? You placed your hand gently over hers and rested your chin on her shoulder, immediately noticing her eyes flash over to you. Her grip tightened around your thigh in response.

“I was just trying to dance with a pretty girl, didn’t know that was a problem,” The stranger spoke and took a few steps back, throwing his hands up in false surrender.

“It is.” Melissa said, about to take a step forward, unwilling to let him get away. You felt her body shift against you and quickly wrapped your left arm around her, holding her against you.

“Baby, should we step outside for a second?” You asked Melissa, making a point to let her feel your breath linger for a second. She might get onto you for making her so flustered later, but that would be better than getting kicked out for a bar fight.

Without answering, she took your hand in hers and led you to the back exit, ignoring the questioning looks from your friends behind you. The cold wind felt sobering against your hot skin, although your hand was kept warm by Melissa’s. She was gripping it so tightly still, you wondered why she was still so frustrated.

“Mel? Are you okay?” You asked. Letting go of her hand you stood in front of her, gently brushing a few stray hairs behind her ear. Her cheeks were still so red, hands clammy, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen her look at you so wide-eyed before.

“I...” She started. Melissa looked at your lips for a moment before returning to your gaze. “He can’t touch you like that.”

“I don’t even think he got a chance before you were back over there. Besides, why can’t he?” You challenged her. It was risky, hopefully with a reward.

She tightened her grip on your hand and pulled you close so your bodies were flush together. Sure, you knew a couple tricks to make Melissa blush or get flustered, but she was exceptionally good at it. Her fingers against your lower back started moving back and forth, sending chills up your spine. Her other hand let go of yours and found itself getting tangled in your hair.

“Because dolcezza, can he touch you like this? Hm? Would you be this needy for anyone else? You’re mine, you know you are.” The older woman’s words sent heat through your body.

“Prove it then.”

As quickly as the words were out of your mouth, Melissa’s lips were on yours. She was gentle at first, giving you an opportunity to stop if you want. When your own hands found themselves reaching to touch her more, she knew she got you. Her hand in your hair tugged a bit, and when you moaned in response Melissa took the opportunity to taste you. Feeling her groans against you, because of you, was a new high you would forever be chasing. Her grip on you was tight, she was unrelenting, not wanting to let you out of her sight again.

It was like the past few weeks of Melissa keeping her mouth shut had built up inside of her, she needed you, and she needed you to know that. Feeling herself getting too worked up, she gave you a few more kisses before pulling away. You couldn’t help but whine when she did so, missing her lips already.

“Yknow, I might keep letting people flirt with me if it means you kiss me like that every time,” You softly spoke. Melissa couldn’t help but laugh at that, even though the both of you knew she would not put up with that. Certainly not anymore. You were finally hers.

#melissa schemmenti x reader #abbott elementary #lisa ann walter #abbott elementary fics #reader fic #wlw fic #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti headcanon #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti imagine

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guess-my-next-obsession · 2 years ago

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Elementary Masterlist

pairing: no outbreak!joel miller x teacher!reader

series rating: E (minors DNI, 18+ only, single dad!joel, smut to come)

summary: You’re Sarah’s fifth grade teacher, and after meeting her father at a parent/teacher conference, you find yourself developing a strong interest and affection for the two struggling Millers.

chapters marked with * indicate explicit content. minors DNI.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three*

Chapter Four*

Chapter Five*

Chapter Six*

drabble: the bakesale*

drabble: out of my depth

Chapter Seven*

drabble: please?

drabble: the night out

Chapter Eight*

drabble: the perfect fit

drabble: the distraction*

drabble: a hard day

drabble: winter break

Chapter Nine*

drabble: the firsts

drabble: a helping hand

drabble: halloween 2004

drabble: dad duty

drabble: christmas 2006

Finale*

drabble: the gift

drabble: the show of appreciation*

drabble: the ranch*

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spooky-holtz · 7 months ago

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You Don't Need To Keep It Hush

Melissa Schemmenti x reader

Genre: fluff, VERY suggestive, its so close to being smut

Word Count: 2.7k

Prompt: based on the song 'Toothbrush" by DNCE (cringe, I know)

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There is an undeniable warmth coursing through your body when you finally manage to wake in the morning hours of a spring Saturday. The sun that peeks through the open curtains casts your bedroom in a yellow hue, the glow making the once boring room seem so much more enticing. While this helps the warmth you can feel, there is no doubt in your mind that the main culprit is the body pressed against your back.

A heavy arm is wrapped around your waist and a soft pair of lips exhale gentle snores onto the smooth expanse of your back. You can’t help but smile as memories of the night before come flooding back. Flashing details of red hair and heavy breaths surge through your mind, the heat that was already coursing through you growing exponentially as you remember the sounds that left the lips currently pressed gently to your spine.

You can feel the smile that graces your lips before you realize it's even there, a blush creeping across your cheeks as the sight of Melissa’s heaving chest comes straight to the forefront of your mind.

You had never meant for your relationship with Melissa to end up this way. You had simply started as co-workers, but that’s how it always starts, right? What was the odd weekend catch-up over coffee quickly turned into full-blown meals together and now Melissa is like clockwork, always managing to turn up at your apartment door at 6pm on the dot every Friday after school, a bottle of wine and a bag of take-out under her arm. What started as a way to simply relieve stress after a rather tipsy suggestive conversation during one of those evenings has easily become the best part of your week.

You’re snapped from your thoughts by the arm around your waist tightening, pulling you closer into the redhead as she lets out a quiet groan.

“Jesus Christ, couldn’t you have managed to close the curtains properly last night?” she asks, her voice thick with sleep. You let out a laugh, a sharp exhale through your nose as she pushes her face further into your spine to escape the harsh glow of the morning sun.

“You didn’t even give me chance to, you know that right?” You retort, playfulness laced in your tone.

Melissa’s manicured nails scratch gently at your bare stomach as she stirs, pondering her next comment. You feel her smile as goosebumps erupt across the flesh of your torso where her hand lays, clearly feeling the effect her touch alone has.

“Touche,” she says through her sleepy grin, “Can you blame me, though? Those plaid pajama pants you had on last night were extra sexy.”

You turn your head slightly to look at her over your shoulder, only seeing the mess of red hair that is sprawled across the pillows she insists on keeping in your bed. Before this little arrangement you were quite happy with a single pillow but, of course, Melissa had her way and now the head of your bed is adorned with well over half a dozen pillows for the single night she spends here every week. The sound of soft giggles breaks through your faux-offended silence as she chuckles into the skin of your back before pressing a soft pair of lips between your shoulder blades.

“I’m just kidding, babe,” she says, her voice still incredibly raspy from the slumber she has just awoken from. Your stomach flips at the little nickname. The giddy feeling you always get whenever Melissa calls you ‘babe’, or ‘hun’, or ‘sweetheart’ never gets old, even if she has been calling you some variation since you met in the teachers’ lounge at Abbott. The words carry an entirely new meaning now than they did a few years ago.

Even if you aren’t technically in a relationship, you know that her words carry the affection that she shows you in other ways. That same affection is there in the sickly-sweet cup of coffee that waits in front of your seat in the teacher’s lounge every single morning, directly next to the redhead’s Stanley Tucci mug. It’s in the requests to get your classes grouped together during every single Abbott field trip. You see it in the way she’s memorized your take-out order for each restaurant this side of Philly, or the tupperware filled with leftovers that she brings you most days. While you both may not explicitly say that you love each other, you hope that these actions speak so much louder than words possibly could.

“You’re an asshole, I hope you know that,” you say, breaking the growing tension between you. You feel her lift her head from the pillow, the hand that rests against your stomach pulling to roll you onto your back so you can get a real look at her face.

Her chin is resting on her hand, propped up against the soft mattress and awaiting your gaze. You can’t help but be taken aback by just how beautiful she is. The sun reflects off her fiery hair, giving it a golden tint that creates a halo around her head. Her eyes sparkle with mischief as she teases you, knowing exactly what to say to invoke a reaction from you, only so she can soothe the ‘hurt’ a few seconds later.

“Yeah, but I’m your asshole,” she says, batting her eyelashes that still wear the remnants of yesterday’s mascara, the makeup collecting under her eyes that are impossibly bright despite her sleepy state. You scrunch your nose at the statement. She does nothing but giggle, seeing your immediate disgust – she knows what she’s doing.

You can’t help but feel all traces of negativity leave your system when you feel her relax against you, choosing to move her head from her hand to rest her chin on the soft flesh of your chest. She looks up at you through her incredibly thick eyelashes and you feel your entire demeanour soften within seconds. You let the comfortable silence take over for a few moments, the two of you simply taking each other in. Her head rests against a chaotic pattern of red lipstick stains that cover your skin from the night prior. You can still feel each kiss that left each mark burning your skin.

“Morning, gorgeous,” you say, a hint of a smile playing at your lips. She rolls her eyes at the nickname, but the blush that spreads rapidly across her cheekbones and down the milky expanse of her chest reminds you just how much she loves being called that. She’s propped herself up again, looking down at you with unspoken admiration as your free hand traces patterns up and down her spine. She forgoes words and instead trails her hand up your body to rest against the side of her neck, her nails once again scratching gently at the flesh there.

She pulls you toward her gently, meeting your lips in the empty space between. She’s careful to use a tenderness that is only reserved for you, gently pressing your lips together while you hum your appreciation for the action into the quiet of the room. She moves languidly against your lips, taking her time to show her affection. You automatically move your hand to cup her jaw, moving her head to deepen the kiss and regain your control. You feel her gasp at the action as she reciprocates hungrily, tracing her tongue against the swollen flesh of your bottom lip. You can’t help but groan quietly against Melissa’s lips, feeling her smirk into the kiss.

With a newfound satisfaction for your appreciation, Melissa moves away slightly and swings her leg over your waist coming to rest on the other side of your waist. She uses the leverage to straddle your hips completely, trapping you on the bed between her thick, pale thighs. As she pulls back from the kiss to look down at you through curtains of red hair, you can’t help but notice the shift in her energy, the relaxed Melissa you had just seconds ago being replaced by one that has an undeniable hunger in her eyes. It’s the same look you’ve come to recognize every Friday evening, and one that you will never tire of.

You’re half-hypnotized as you look back at her, a mixture of her incredible beauty and intoxicating actions rendering you useless. She just smirks as you stare at her dumbly, knowing that she has you wrapped around her little finger. You find it incredibly easy to lose yourself in these moments, taking in the wrinkles around her eyes that deepen when she smiles, her bright green eyes never leaving your own.

She’s looking down at you with a similar admiration, her eyes flitting from your own down to your lips and back. You raise your eyebrow slightly in a silent taunt, inviting her to act as she sees fit.

She wastes no time in leaning back in, this time bypassing your lips completely and attaching her own to your sharp jawline. Her hands rest on the pillow either side of your head, trapping you in place, as if you had any desire to be free from the situation. Though your eyes are closed with pure bliss, you can feel her mussed red hair tickling against the skin of your chest as she moves one hand to rest against your jawline, maneuvering your head to reach the places she needs to reach.

You whine as she tilts your head, her lips travelling across your jaw and down the expanse of your neck. She finds the sweet spot underneath your ear and latches to the skin there, the firm grip she has stopping you from moving away from the inevitable mark she will leave there. Covering that on Monday morning is the least of your worries right now, with the only thought coursing through your mind being Melissa’s intoxicating floral scent. You can feel her heavy breathing in your ear as she works, the sound only bringing back welcome memories of the night prior.

As if she’s reading your thoughts, you feel Melissa’s hips push into yours from where she sits atop you. The feeling of her undeniable arousal on your stomach making your head spin, the hands that rest on her hips guiding her and pushing further into you. You’re given a slight reprieve from the overwhelming sensations as she begins to pull away from your neck, moving her head upwards to look at you properly again.

“I guess I forgot to say, ‘good morning’”, she says, licking her lips. There is no denying that she knows exactly how to rile you up and you know she’s proud of it with the smug expression she wears. Over the last few months Melissa has learned your body like the back of her own hand, knowing exactly what spots will have you melting at her touch and bending at her mercy. She runs her thumb over your swollen bottom lip from where her hand still sits against your jaw, her strong grip keeping you in place. She looks at you almost expectantly but all you can do is stare back with your mouth slightly agape, wondering exactly what you did to deserve this wake-up call.

“Jesus Christ Mel, you’re going to have to give me a few minutes before you pull that shit again.” You say, sighing through the sentence.

You feel her giggle as her face breaks into one of those cheesy grins that you love, her dimples becoming more pronounced as she does so. You don’t think you will ever tire of the bliss and domesticity of your Saturday mornings with Melissa. Even if you aren’t in a ‘real’ relationship, it’s an unspoken rule that she’s not allowed to leave before you can cook her breakfast (or brunch, depending on how long you decide to stay wrapped up in bed together). Sometimes she helps you by chopping fruit or brewing the pot of coffee on the kitchen surface, stealing glances from the other side of your apartment’s small kitchen.

The comfortable silence is broken by a quiet sigh from the redhead before she begins to move off you.

“I guess I should probably start getting ready for the day,” she says, swinging her leg back over your hip so her bare feet can reach the cold hardwood floor of your bedroom, “Those papers won’t grade themselves.”

She picks up your crumpled Blondie shirt from the night before from where it lays discarded on the floor at her feet, pulling it over her head before she shakes her hair out. You can’t help but watch her in awe. She truly makes even the most mundane of tasks seem incredible.

She moves toward the bathroom as you sit up in bed, wrapping the now warm sheets around your torso to cover the smattering of lipstick stains across your chest that will probably sit there for another few hours. You can hear her as she rummages through her bag, no doubt trying to find the toothbrush she always swears she packed before leaving her own home the evening before. You sit cross-legged as you wait for the rummaging to stop and the sound of running water to start. As if she can hear your thoughts, her head appears in the bathroom doorway, a sheepish smile on her face.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a spare toothbrush I can borrow, do you?” She asks. Her fingernails drum on the doorframe as you stare back at her, the soft smile on her face relaxing her anxiety radiating from her.

“Check the cabinet. I bought you one while I was in the grocery store yesterday.” You say, your smile growing wider with the evident relaxation on the redhead’s features. “You can always just leave it here then, ya know? You’ll never have to remember a toothbrush if you already have one at my place.”

She cracks a grin from where she stands, hand removed from the doorframe and playing with the rings that sit on her fingers. “Thanks, hun,” she says quietly, the sheepish grin back on her features, “I really appreciate it.”

She disappears again and you can feel yourself slipping away with the easiness of these mornings. There is a domesticity that you’ve found yourself craving since meeting Melissa that you can only find in the Saturday’s you spend together tangled in sheets. You know that there is something more to it but the thought of ruining this near-perfect arrangement stops you from taking the next step with her.

“Hey, how would you feel about going out for breakfast with me this morning?” You blurt out into the empty room. You can hear Melissa’s actions freeze as the quiet swishing of her new toothbrush against her teeth stills. She pads toward the doorframe again, toothbrush still in hand and foamy toothpaste covering the corner of her mouth. The sight of her makes your heart melt in your chest, knowing that nobody else gets to see her this vulnerable.

“What, like, out-out?” she asks, her brows furrowed slightly. The question makes your gaze drop to your hands, suddenly incredibly distracted by the way that you’re picking at your cuticles.

“Yeah, I uh, I thought that maybe we could actually go on a kind of date instead of, you know, just doing this and then not seeing each other until Monday?” You say, more to the bed sheets than to Melissa herself. You’re trying so hard not to be offended by her lack of answer, knowing that even saying anything that could hint toward your real feelings was the worst decision you could have made.

Before you can decide to get up and remove yourself from the situation you’ve created the bed dips in front of you and a warm hand comes to rest against the side of your face. Melissa is kneeling on the crumpled white sheets that are half-wrapped around you, the grin she’s wearing showing you her newly cleaned teeth. You don’t have a chance to react before her lips are on yours, the redhead’s grin making it impossible for her to kiss you the way she really wants. She holds you delicately, the softness of her actions a sharp departure from the night before.

It’s a short few seconds before she pulls away and meets her eyes with yours, her chest still heaving from the exertion.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

#melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary #abbott elementary fanfic #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti fluff #fluff #lisa ann walter #melissa schemmenti x y/n #self insert #wlw #reader fanfic #reader fic

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lot-of-nothing · 9 months ago

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Entwined (Ch. 1)

Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Since your youth, the relationship between Melissa and you has been complicated. In all of your years knowing her, she just can't admit that she isn't as straight as she thinks.

Warnings: Toxic Melissa, smut, and very veiled internalized homophobia

Authors Note: If ya like it, let me know and I'll write more.

On and off.

That’s how you would describe your relationship with Melissa to your closest friends. They would inevitably roll their eyes and make a face, annoyed with how Melissa had you wrapped around her finger.

It started in high school. She would start dating a new guy, he would leave her unsatisfied in more ways than one, and then she would find those missing pieces of her relationship in you.

You were best friends after all…. and best friends would do anything for each other, right?

The first night you spent together was always vivid in your memories. Her green eyes flashing with mischief before she took your hand and pulled it to her thigh. Mel told you how badly she was aching, how it was almost painful. That she needed her best friend to help resolve what her boyfriend couldn’t.

She knew about your sexual orientation. She knew how hard it was for you to date. When you hesitated, Mel said it was like practicing for when you had a girlfriend. Only if she knew how beautiful you found her to be… that she was only making things harder for you.

Young and naive, you gladly accepted her offer - desire flooding your senses as soon as she drew your hands to her body. She guided you through every motion and step, telling you exactly what she liked. Like a sponge, you soaked up every word and memorized every fraction of her body. Never wanting to forget a thing.

Little did you know the knowledge would come in handy again… and again… and again.

—

“I should probably get going.” Mel breathed as she pushed herself into an upright position. You had been bathing in the afterglow of your sexual dalliance when you must have looked at her too yearningly. She didn’t want you getting too attached.

“I wouldn’t mind if you stayed. It’s no big deal.” You tried to shrug off her wanting to leave so soon. It was best if you played it cool rather than let her know how much you really wanted her after all these years.

It was clear she didn’t give much thought to your statement. Slipping out from under your sheets, Melissa snatched up her underwear and bra from the floor. She was always in such a rush after you were finished, “I don’t want the neighbors gettin’ the wrong idea.”

That's what she had always told you - ‘I’m not gay.’

For years, you always had a biting remark in return.

‘Yeah. It’s not like you just spent a half hour between my legs or anything.’

“What? Worried they might think you’re gay?” Your words were twinged with venom. Now, rather than wait for her to make the excuse, you threw it back in her face. It always irked you that she could say such a thing to you given all you had experienced with one another.

“A woman can enjoy the company of women and not be gay.”

You scoffed, unable to contain yourself, “You’re delusional.”

Melissa’s lip curled and her brow furrowed. She always hated when you would get pissy with her, so she decided to snap back at you as she clipped her bra in the back, “I don’t need your shit, okay? I came here for a good time after my shitty date.”

You faked a smile and let the sarcasm drip from your tongue. “Glad to help.”

—

You knew the relationship wasn’t healthy, but this is how it always went.

She would call. She would come over. You would fuck. She would want to leave right after. You would get pissed. Then you wouldn’t speak until she wanted back in your bed.

—

You gathered saliva in your mouth and then pushed your tongue between her folds, drenching Melissa’s sweet cunt in your spit.

After the last sexual dalliance, you told yourself you wouldn’t end up on your knees for her again. But 45 minutes ago you received a partial nude from the redhead, and she had you reeled back in once more. It was a scandalous picture of her standing in front of her bedroom mirror with her hand between her legs. The caption she sent with the photo was ‘Missing you.’

While it was infuriating she could send a picture at random like that, you were in your car minutes later ready to drive over to her house.

Your hands gripped behind her knees, keeping a gentle pressure to make sure she was spread wide for you. Her hands were buried in your hair to prevent you from lifting your face away from her swollen heat. But in all honesty, you weren’t planning on going anywhere until she came all over your tongue.

“Oh, fuck!” Mel whined, pushing her hips up to grind against your face. Her enjoyment made you smile, and sadly, a small ounce of hope lingered in the back of your mind that maybe you could fuck her good enough that she would want to be with you.

“Yesyesyesyes… God, you are incredible.” Melissa hissed out, chasing her orgasm through rough bucks of her hips.

You pulled back, fighting against the grip for her hands. You provided her with a singular lick to her cunt and then paused, teasing her, “You want to come?”

“Yes~”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, please.”

“Good girl…” You hummed, pulling away entirely to retrieve the strap.

—

She had barely recovered from taking a pseudo-rage filled fucking when she crawled from bed. Her legs wobbled underneath herself as she wrapped herself in a robe, trying to make it clear a third round wouldn’t be an option. “I guess you better be goin’.”

“Sounds good.” You took the hint with grace, choosing to let her statement roll off your back rather than stewing on it. You slipped from the bed, unclasped Melissa’s strap (that she kept around just for you), and tossed the sex toy on the bed. You then proceeded to get ready in silence, not offering anything to Melissa that might display your displeasure.

The redhead was slowly unnerved by your silence as you zipped up your trousers and pulled your shirt over your head. She stared at her nail beds, trying to start casual conversation, “Gary proposed.”

You glanced up at her quickly, brow furrowed in angry questioning. While you were not proud of how easily Mel could reel you in, you wouldn’t have come if she was still in a relationship let alone engaged.

Melissa noticed your incredulous look and finished explaining, “I said no.”

You breathed out a scoff as you tucked your phone in your back pocket and scooped up your sweater off the floor. “That sounds about right.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Melissa was clearly unhappy with your tone, but you refused to glance her way - slightly enraging her further.

Swiping your wallet and car keys from the bedside table you finally glanced over to where Mel sat on the edge of the bed. It was difficult to tell if she was more angry or embarrassed by your criticism, “I’ve learned the hard way, Mel. You’re hardly one to be tied down by something as trivial as love.”

Melissa was left speechless by your blatant honesty, and she could only stare as you gave her a curt nod, “I’ll see you around.”

—

She wasn’t gone for a half hour when you received a text from her - ‘Again tomorrow night? ;)’

It immediately forced you to roll your eyes. How you loved and hated that she was like this. One moment she would be so oppositional to any form of attachment, and then the moment someone ‘played hard to get’ with her, she would be fiending for their attention.

What was worse is that you were no better than her. You replied almost automatically - ‘I am off at 4. Come over whenever.’

Link to Chapter 2

#melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader #lisa ann walter #abbott elementary #toxic relationship #if you like the fic then let me know. it was fun to write :)

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themillsdaughter · 8 months ago

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a privilege I deprive myself of

Synopsis: you would rather chew glass than see Melissa yearn for something and not have it delivered to her. the thing, however, is that your life is a shitshow, and what was meant to be an act of kindness upends any effort you've made throughout the years to keep your feelings hidden.

or slightly insecure! Melissa and traumatized! reader in a Valentine's Day au inspired by this prompt.

Words: 3.9k

Warnings: Talks of body image.

Also, my first time dabbling in this fandom and character, so... Hope you like it!

This isn’t ideal.

Valentine's Day has never been your favorite. Truthfully, you think it’s only yet another excuse for Capitalism to suck some extra cash out of millions of pockets.

You’ve thought this your entire life, regardless of being in a relationship or not. The thing, however, is that you live in a capitalist society and escaping the emotional reliance on the holiday is damn near impossible. So, throughout the years, you’ve come to terms with at least doing something for partners on the day.

Well, that is, until you’d walked in your apartment one day and found your girlfriend straddling a woman you’d never seen before.

This year, you’re single, so the whole thing had just slipped into the background, a red and pink festival more than anything else, really.

“You’re not doing anything?” Janine had asked a few days before in the teachers' lounge, brow furrowed, pity shining in her eyes. Dear God. “You know, Galentine’s Day is really popular now.”

“Honey, I barely want to celebrate the day when I have someone. Why would I make a fuss now that I have an out?” You’d gone back to grading, trying your damnest not to roll your eyes.

“Well, Tariq used to be like that, too. Even though we were together. Sometimes he would forget and go on trips, and those times were pretty lonely… You know, with all the hearts and chocolate and candles and couples around. Not that that’s the case this year, you know. I’m with Maurice, and he’s super attentive.” Her uncomfortable fidgeting had made her chair squeak. As sweet as she is, she should really learn how to stop projecting. “Anyways, I just worry about you. I don’t want you to feel lonely.”

“I don’t.”

“She doesn’t.” Melissa had said, at the same time as you. Looking up from the papers, you’d shared a grin with her. “She has enough wondering thoughts to keep her company.”

Finally, you’d given into your urge and rolled your eyes.

So this really isn’t ideal.

“I think this one is too tight, though.” The voice coming from your phone said. You turned the heat from the stove down, placed a half-lid over the pan, and picked up the device from the counter. On the screen, you saw something that made you pull out a stool from your island and thank God that the woman on the other side of the line was too busy looking at herself in the mirror, brows furiously furrowed, to notice.

Melissa had her hair up in a messy bun, her old pair of glasses hanging in the middle of her nose, and a dark red dress on that stole the breath from your lungs.

The material was soft, with satin-like finish, puffy long sleeves, a square neckline that showed her cleavage to perfection and a skirt that hit her a few inches above her knees.

Nervously, her hands tried to smooth over the creases formed on the dress by her belly.

“Maybe I could wear some spanks” she sighed. “It’s too tight, right?” She turned back to where the phone was, asking you directly.

For a few seconds, you struggled to think of something other than ‘uh’ to say. Melissa is stunning and, in those moments, you wished you’d been braver back when you’d had the chance. Maybe, she’d be asking Barbara this, getting ready as a surprise for you, not for somebody else.

In a breath, you swallowed that feeling, locking it away with all the ones of its kind, somewhere deep, deep in your soul.

“Hun? It’s too tight, isn’t it? Who the fuck do I think I am trying on something like this.” She’d taken your silence as disapproval, and if she only knew you’d only want to see that off of her if you’d taken it out yourself…

“Shut up, will you?” You finally said. “It’s gorgeous, it looks awesome on you.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s the nicest one of the bunch.”

“I don’t know if I have spanks short enough for it, though. And I need something to get this under control.” She pushed her belly in again, and it enraged you.

“Anyone who doesn’t find that hot is not someone you should listen to.” You said, holding back the rant that always appeared on the tip of your tongue when she said shit like this.

Honestly, the struggle of straight men to like women is mind-boggling.

“You might just be too gay for this.” Melissa snorted, going into her drawer in search of the spanks.

“Well, fuck you very much.”

She barked out a laugh, and you let go of your phone to stir the food you were cooking, glad for a break from the glory of the woman you did not love like that.

Which is yet another reason why this isn’t ideal.

You don’t really care for Valentine's Day, but on the morning of the 14th, Melissa had seemed off. You tried touching on the subject while you two got coffee, as weak as Abbott’s brew always was, however, Gary walked in in all of his mustached glory and her attention immediately shifted to him.

He’s her boyfriend, it’s Valentine's Day, it was only logical.

She gave him hint after hint, pushed her shoulders a bit back, highlighting her breasts just slightly, cocked her hips some while leaning against the sink, licked her lips more than usual, everything to get an ounce of attention back. The absolute idiot fussed over the vending machine, mumbled a few words to her, eyes not even moving in her direction, before leaving with a “see ya later” tossed behind him.

The look that had taken over her face then had made your heart sink.

“He’s been like this all week.” She said during lunch break in your car. “Barbara thinks he might be planning something, says he’s not cheating, but I don’t know… I tried fooling myself with getting the perfect outfit, getting my hair and my nails done, but he hasn’t mentioned any plans, and he’s been so fucking distant, he doesn’t even seem like himself. And I really can’t handle another Joe situation.” Taking the last bite of the Shepard’s pie you’d brought her, she leaned her head against the rest.

To nearly everybody else here, she shows her angry, reactive, gray side. It’s easier for her, something that still makes her an outcast, but firmly protects her inner-self. But some magical, all-powerful, incredible being out there had made it so you were the one she chose to show her other side to, the one that is not always confident, not in her worth or her looks or her ability as a teacher.

The one that loves so intensely it scares her, and the one that has so many scars she spends half her time trying to heal them, or, at the very least, stop them from bleeding all over the place and being visible to the outside world.

“What do you think?” She said, bringing you back to the inside of your 2010s Honda. “You’ve always been better at these things.”

“Do I think he’s cheating on you?”

She nodded.

“Well, first of all, if he is, he is an absolute deepshit who doesn’t know how to count his blessing for you even giving him the time of day.”

You looked into her eyes while you said it, and she turned her head after, staring at the Tupperware in her hands. You thought you saw a blush creeping up on her cheeks.

“But I don’t think he is. Hey, maybe he’s just seen Valentine’s Day for what it is!” You nudged her arm with the back of your hand. “Maybe you’re the one who has to get on board.”

She relented a smile then, but it didn’t last.

“Mel, I think you’ll just have to ride this one out. Wait until the end of the day, so then you can actually have a conversation with him. If he really forgot or if there’s really something wrong, you’ll find out, but, honestly, me? I think he might just have some goofy-ass surprise planned.”

Melissa nodded while keeping her gaze out the window.

There’s a beat, then another, and you thought perhaps you’d convinced her, and she was only taking some time to absorb it.

“You know, you may not feel lonely with this kind of stuff, but…” She paused, voice tired, heart bearing all those tender scars, “I think I’m more like Janine than I’d thought.”

So, hm, this isn’t ideal.

You’d be damned if you let a man who didn’t realize the one in a million he had found ruin Melissa’s day.

Even if Valentine’s Day was traumatic for you, even if it was silly and forced and the world would be better off without it, Melissa was Melissa, and she deserved everything she wanted out of life. You’d thought Gary would see it, but if he didn’t, it’s up to you, even with all your emotional limitations.

So you wrote a little card. Nothing much, just made out of a fancier piece of purple paper you’d had lying around the classroom, with a heart-sticker you’d found at the bottom of your purse decorating the front page. Inside, the note wasn’t all that special, just enough for her to know she would never be alone. That you loved her. That she’d always have you, even if one day she didn’t have anyone else. That she’s your favorite, and if she wanted to, you’d take her out for dinner yourself.

As a friend, of course. Truly.

The fact she made your chest inflate and your pressure drop and a flock of butterflies run a full marathon in your stomach were not things that were included.

After sending the students home, saying goodbye to everyone else (Gregory and his Legos, Janine and her designer bag she knew nothing about, Ava and her many flings and Jacob and his slam poetry), you’d walked to the lounge, where you’d seen Barb and Mel walking towards only a few minutes earlier.

On the way there, you’d seen a bouquet of gerberas discarded on the hallway floor. You’d wondered if a poor kid had gotten broken up with on that day of all days, or if the bouquet held any card of its own. You’d picked it up, deciding to bring it to the compost pile later.

You hadn’t realized how it looked until it had been too late.

“Hey, Mel, I have something for…” You’d started, rounding the corner to enter the room.

“I love you too.” She’d said, looking into Gary’s eyes. In a split second, you’d registered there was something off about her voice, something lacking.

And now here you are, in this less than ideal situation.

All three look at you, standing in the doorway with a card and flowers, calling after another person’s girlfriend. Shit.

“What do you have for her?” Gary’s hand tightens on her waist just so.

So, yeah. Not fucking ideal.

“Hey, look at that. I uh…actually forgot the… ah… The book I was lending you.” You mumble. Spinning on your heels, you walk as fast as humanly possible without breaking into a sprint.

Stupid-ass, invented, asinine holiday.

******

You’re more than half-way through a bottle of Merlot when your doorbell rings.

“Fucking finally!” You shout, jumping from your couch, your belly clenching painfully. Opening up your front door, though, your shoulders drop. “You’re not Postmates.”

“No, I am not. You know what else I also am not? Enjoying this beautiful night with my husband.” Barbara floods you with words, walking past you into the living room.

“Why is that, exactly?” And maybe you’re starting to get drunk, because she seems furious with you, and you can’t remember the last time that ever happened.

“Because I cannot possibly enjoy what was supposed to be a romantic moment with Gerald when I get a desperate phone call from my best friend’s partner asking me if I know where she is.”

It’s too many words too fast, so you sit back down and blink hard, trying to focus.

“What are you talking about?”

“Gary called me. He doesn’t know where Melissa is.”

Melissa. Suddenly, the reason you’d started drinking comes back to you. Shit. Shit shit shit.

“Have you seen her?” Barbara seems to take pity on you, be it for your drunkenness or the way your face scrunches up at the name.

“Not since this afternoon, no. What happened?”

“Gary says she went after you, came back in a different mood. Then they got into an argument in the middle of dinner, because she didn’t seem to be enjoying it, which is strange considering she spent the day worrying he wouldn’t do anything special, as we both know.” She sits down on the futon in front of you. “He says she broke up with him right then and there, and left.”

What?

“What?”

“I don’t understand it either. What did you say to her in the hallway?”

“Nothing, I didn’t talk to her in the hallway, or at all.”

Barbara looks away, shaking her head with an incredulous smile on her lips.

“You two are… God forgive me, but infuriating.” She turns back, sighing. “Did she text you? I’ve called and called, but she hasn’t picked up. She’s not at her house, either.”

“I don’t know.” You pull your phone from the middle of the cushions. “It’s been on focus mode the whole night, I only got notifications for my food.”

“Can you try her? Maybe she’ll pick up if it’s you.”

“You’re starting to freak me out.”

“Yes, well, at least we’ll be on the same page.”

The line rings three times before going to voicemail. Then, there’s someone pressing your doorbell again. Your stomach aches.

Again, not Postmates.

“You’re an asshole!” It’s the first thing out of Melissa’s mouth. As the second person today pushes her way into your home, Barbara jumps up from her seat.

“You’re alive, you’re whole?” She turns Melissa over, taking advantage of the woman’s confusion at seeing her here. “Are you stupidly drunk?”

“Uh… No. Why…”

“Are you going to make any decisions that might land you in jail?”

“No.”

“Thank you, Jesus!” Barbara shouts, letting go of the redhead, lifting her hands in praise, and walking to the door. “Please, resolve your issues and let me have my steak in peace. I’ll call your boy-“ She looks Melissa over. “I’ll call Gary, let him know you’re okay. Goodbye. Also, you’re both on probation until further notice.”

She closes the door behind her with a bang, and the two of you are left alone, staring at each other.

Her make-up is smudged, as if she’d been crying, and that beautiful, beautiful red dress shines under the light. The vision worries you at the same time it sets the butterflies off.

Once more, with feeling: this is not ideal.

It feels like forever goes by, just like this, with neither of you moving or speaking or looking away.

Until she unclenches her fist, and you see your card, the one you’d lost on your rush to leave.

“You couldn’t have picked a better moment?” Melissa asks, placing the piece of paper on your entrance table. Her anger, so explosive moments ago, is low and dangerous now, simmering with the hurt in her eyes.

“Listen, I know how it looked-“

“Any other moment.” She keeps going, incapable of stopping now that she’s started. “Maybe one of the endless times when we sat on that fucking couch watching those boring movies you like. Or… Or maybe one of the nights when we spent hours pouring over project ideas or education strategies. Or really any other time before I made the decision to move on.”

Her heart is there, right in front of you, in the tears that drown the gorgeous green of her irises. Somehow, you feel like this is the cataclysm of thoughts and words and feelings you had both held back for years.

“What?” You mumble for the second time tonight.

“I found every excuse in the book to avoid this, to avoid looking for someone else. And some of it was true, really. Joe did a number on me, which you know – which is why that just hurt worse.” She points to the card, bent in half and slightly crumbled. “But most of it was crap, and I knew it was crap, but I convinced myself it wasn’t because you weren’t ready, but you are amazing, and maybe it was better to wait just a little longer to see if you ever got your shit together, if you ever got over what that ex of yours did. But you never, ever did.”

“Melissa, the flowers…”

“Yeah, gerberas, my favorites, I know. That was a nice touch. You probably knew he wouldn’t remember that detail.”

“No, Mel, I didn’t buy them.” You step forward, past the table, close enough to reach out and touch her arm, if you were brave enough. You never are.

“What, are you gonna tell me you grew them too?” She snorts, humorlessly. “You know, the worst part is that you encouraged me. You told me to go after him, to let him woo me. Even this morning! You told me to wait for him, just to pull this crap.”

She raises her hand, wipes her eyes, and Christ, what the hell have you done?

She breathes in, and it would be wondrous if it weren’t terrifying, how she puts her heart away, takes the part reserved just for you to see and hides it from view.

“I’ve been in love with you for longer than I know, and this whole time you’ve been leading me on, never really letting me go, no, but still pushing me away.”

In love you with you. In love you with you.

I’ve been in love with you for longer than I know.

It reverberates inside your brain as if an echo in a museum. In love with you.

The person who lights up your days without a fail, the woman who’s made every single potential partner pale in comparison, a staple in your life so important that the mere thought of risking something that could make you lose her had forced you to bury all warm and fuzzy feelings. That woman. This woman. Melissa. Your Melissa. In love with you.

You feel your past is too broken to believe her, but still the thought of her being this hurt is unacceptable.

“Mel, I didn’t write the card to steal you away.”

You risk it now, because you feel her slipping through your fingers, and not seeing her heart when she looks into your eyes makes you feel the loneliest you ever have. You risk reaching over, placing one hand on each of her upper arms. The fabric there is so soft it surprises you.

She flinches, but allows it.

“Just to keep me from giving up, right?”

“You know me better than that.” You try, throat tight. You damn sure hope she does. “I wrote it because you seemed really hurt, and just in case Gary messed up, I wanted you to know you at least had me. You’ll always have me.”

She shakes her head, eyes welling up again.

“What a great pal you are.” Melissa whispers.

“I found the fucking flowers on the floor, I was gonna take them to the trash.” You lose your patience for a split second, because maybe you were tactless, but this is a bit too far, even for such a stubborn woman.

She raises a brow.

“I’m not trying to cover my ass.”

“’You’re the person I think about the most’” She quotes the card. “Did you mean that?”

“Of course.” You say without a thought.

“As a friend?” She challenges.

No. Yes. Maybe. It’s on the tip of your tongue.

If you risk this next step, will you lose her eventually? Like you have every other woman you have loved like this? Will you lose yet another person, yet another soul you feel you can rest beside?

You let your hands travel down slightly.

“Mostly.” She breaks eye contact, frowning. “I cherish our friendship so much, Melissa. But part of me wanted to say more. To say things that weren’t purely platonic. I didn’t mean to steer you around.” You sigh. This is… a lot. “I want to see you happy, Mel. More than anything in the world, you deserve that. And I just felt like allowing myself to feel all those things for you would jeopardize that. You’re an explosive, hot-headed, weird, outlaw Italian with a great mind and a huge, huge heart, and you’re definitely too good for me.”

She shakes her head again, but looking at those amazing, gorgeous, breathtaking green orbs, you find a glimpse of that other side of hers, even if the tears are still there, hiding underneath the surface.

“Today, I only wanted to make sure you would be okay. And I’m sorry about the misunderstanding. I truly didn’t want to ruin that moment for you.” Finally, you reach her hands, and she holds yours back. You fit. “And I have only ever encouraged you to go out there because I really believe you deserve to have the fullest life you can possibly have, and that’s probably with someone… less damaged. Someone good and kind. Someone like Gary.”

Melissa mumbles to herself in Italian.

Forse sarebbe più facile.

“But I don’t love Gary.” She says simply, in English, relaxing into your touch, sending your blood pressure through the roof.

I’ve been in love with you for longer than I know.

“I know.” You say.

You had seen it in her eyes when she’d returned his declaration earlier, the emptiness, the masking, the guilt for lying. She wanted to love him so badly.

She’d looked at you back then and, for a split second, before the confusion and embarrassment that had followed, she’d seemed relieved, as if saying there’s the one who sees me. And something more.

Now, the something more is clearer.

“I know you’re scared.” She whispers again. “And you always, always try to protect me from these things. Never when I get myself mixed up with family business or get into fights…”

“Well, I trust your right hook for that.” You can’t help yourself. She snorts very, very softly, and maybe there’s hope yet.

“But you always try to keep me safe from this, even from you.” Melissa lets go of one your hands, placing a palm against your cheek. Oh, so that’s what it means to have a heart attack. “But I have never, ever, been afraid of your baggage, you jackass.” The spark of defiance that flashes through her expression pulls a smile from you.

If someone had asked you yesterday if this happening was something you thought possible, you’d have laugh them out of the room.

“I just wish you’d given me that god-damn card before I’d wasted this dress on somebody else and had broken a man’s heart for nothing.”

“Poor Gary,” you whisper.

“Yeah… Poor Gary.”

So, perhaps it’s not ideal, with the tears and heartache and being on Barb’s bad side, but she leans up on her tip toes, squeezing your hand, palm migrating down to hold your neck, and despite not being ideal, it does feel oddly right.

“I don’t give a fuck if you hate Valentine’s Day and you think this is corny. You better kiss me before I lose my nerve, or I swear to…”

For the first time in your adult life, you forgo your mind, trying something with risks that may far outweigh the good. With a tug, you pull her in, leaning down, breath catching in your throat when your lips connect, and you find you don’t give two shits about the risks.

Heaven.

Of course, your doorbell rings not five seconds later. Fucking Postmates.

#melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader #abbott elementary fic #angst with a dab of humor (if you squint)#can anyone tell I am really into sarcasm as a form of comedy? ANYWAYS #themillsdaughter writes #‘hey shouldn’t you be trying to finish that wyp you started 3 years ago?’#yes yes i should but that’s not how the muse works apparently

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jazziejax · 7 months ago

Text

𝐀𝐛𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐭 𝐄𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲

𝐌𝐬.𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥

Pairings- Black!OC x Abbott Elementary Cast, later Black!OC x Manny (Can be read as x Reader though!)

Summary- Pilot Episode Experience with Naoya Lovel

Warnings- Swearing, kids, mixed race reader( those aren’t warnings really, just what to expect)

Jazzie’sNotes!- let me know what you guys think!! I’ve been really obsessed with Abbott Elementary recently and I’m contemplating if I want to write S1&S2 just to get to the Manny season. I want to get there fast but I know what won’t be possible with two seasons worth of writing. Let me know what you guys think I should do.

Word Count- 6,358

“Okay, so you wouldn't put the number on the bottom because that's what?” The older woman asked, drawing out her words as she stood in front of her fourth-grade class, pointing at the whiteboard behind her with her yardstick.

“The denominator.” The class answered.

“Correct, and what do we call the one on top?”

“The numerator.”

“Yes! You guys are killing this lesson.” She smiled as she placed her hands on her hips. She caught the camera crew in the corner of her eyes and then turned to them. “Or should I say I’m killing this lesson?” She smirked, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she posed. It was silent for a moment as they all watched her just smile.

“Wouldn’t you agree?” She’s asked, looking at one of the guys behind the camera. He nodded, moving the camera along with him, causing her to smile and adjust her glasses. “Why, thank you.”

“Hello! My name is Naoya Lovel. Pronounced Now-Ya, it’s Japanese because I’m half Japanese. Don’t ask why I’m half Japanese in Philly, it’s a long story.” She sighed as she shook her head.

“Well, actually, let me tell you the story because it’s actually kind of crazy.” She chuckled, starting to explain, but it then cut to another clip of her in the class.

“Ms.Lovel, we ran out of paper towels.” A student said, standing in front of her desk with paint on the palms of his hands. Noaya looked up, at him, a slight frown on her face. “Ohh, okay, well I have some in my desk.” She started, pulling open her desk drawer. The camera angled down to catch the empty towel box staring back at her. She smirked up at them awkwardly and shrugged her shoulders. “What, I have a constant runny nose.”

“As a teacher, you teach kids how to solve problems while solving your own. In your personal life and at school. And in this school, there are a lot.”

“Ms.Lovel, I need paper towels too.” Another student said, showing her blue and pink palms to her teacher. Noaya then stood from her seat, looking around her room. “Okay, okay class. Give me one sec.” She said, nervously looking around her room to solve her paper towel problem. She the. Saw a stray beach towel near the window on her small bookshelf. “Oh! Here we are, guys.” She said, rushing over to the towel and snatching it up.

“This could be a lesson too.” She smiled excitedly and grabbed a pair of large scissors from her desk. “I probably shouldn’t have these just sitting out.” She mumbled to herself, giving the camera a sideways glance. “So class, this is going to be a hands-on moment. If there are almost thirty of you, how many pieces would I need to cut this into for you guys to share?” She asked, looking at all of them. There was a moment before anyone said anything, the kids thinking over their answer. Then, some of their hands shot up. Naoya flashed the cameras behind her a quick smile before turning back to the kids.

“Noaya, Jacob, and I came in last year with 20 other teachers. We’re three of the four left so…trauma bonding, I guess?” Janine said, in regards to the other girl.

“Yeah, I taught for two years before I got here, I transferred from Addington to here because those people are a bunch of stuck-up freaks who are just in it for a little extra on their check.” She said with a smirk. “And that’s not what I’m here for, I’m here to change lives.” She boated, folding her arms.

“Hey, Melissa, can you please tell “Ta-Nehisi Quotes” here that “white boy” is a term of endearment from the corner store people?” Janie said as she walked into the break room on the second floor.

“Ooh, cheese steaks?” Naoya questioned as she looked up from her papers, knowing the full situation after only hearing the words ‘white boy’ and ‘corner store’.”

“For Zach Ertz, yeah.” Melissa started, turning around with a fresh cup of coffee in her hands. “For him. It’s an insult.” She smirked, then paused at the sight of the cameras in her face.

“Well, you guys, I need a new rug. Mine is officially done.” Janie said.” Coming take a seat right next to the working woman.

“Mhmm! Me too.” Jacob started, taking a seat on the other side of her. “I shook mine out and all the asthma kids had to go to the nurse's office.” This conversation caused her to raise her head, placing her work aside and adjusting her glasses as she listened.

“Yeah, mine’s busted.” Melissa started. “And you can’t class up a rug like you can a couch with a nice coat of plastic.”

“You guys have rugs? All we have is a little mat.” Naoya started, looking between all of them. They all cringed at her words, but couldn’t say more before someone’s loud voice cut through the air.

“Hey-yo! What it does, baby-boo?” Ava yelled as she walked into the break room and over to where they were sitting. “What yall think about this little film crew I bought in here.”

“Distracting makes our jobs harder,” Melissa said disinterestedly, shooting the crew a glare.

“I wish I would have known this was going to be a video thing, I would have made myself look better,” Naoya mumbled, causing the camera to turn her way. She smiled, making her face appear happier than usual.

“But exciting. We about to be on TV.” Ava said, looking between them all.

“Because they are covering underfunded, loosely managed, public schools in America.” Barbra interrupted in a matter-of-fact tone.

“No press is bad press, Barb.” Ava practically disregarded the woman’s claim, continuing to smile at the camera. “Look at Mel Gibson. Still thriving.” She laughed. “ “Daddy’s Home 2”? Hilarious!” She looked around the room, either expecting people to laugh with or or just so confined in her large ego that she didn’t care if they laughed or not.

“Ava’s the worst person I know,” Noaya stated. “I’ve never seen her show an ounce of care about anything other than money. Which is a terrible mindset to have as a principal because you’re literally in the brokeest position of power.”

“There you are.” Ms.Schwartz sighed as she rushed into the room, spotting Ava. “Ava, can I talk to you?” The woman was out of breath as she stood before the principal, and her attire was disheveled. “I-I need an aid. I’m outnumbered there. The kids are crazy.” She ranted this wild look in her eyes. “One of the kids told me to ‘mind my six’ this morning, I don’t know what that means! I need help!” She ranted. Ava placed and hand on her shoulder.

“Calm down.” The darker woman said, cutting Ms. Schwartz off. “They’re just kids. And, besides, aids cost money, and we don’t have that.” She said before flashing a quick smile at the cameras. “Right, but I just—” Ms. Schwartz started again.

“Do you want to split your salary with somebody else?” Ava asked, leaning closer and angling both of them away from the cameras.

“No.” The other woman said dejected.

“No!” Ava cut her off before she could continue to rant. “No, I didn’t think so.”

“Well, if we can’t get aides, maybe we can get new rugs?” Janine chimed up, standing from her seat.

“All I’m hearing is “new, new, new, need, need, need,” Ava answered. “And yet, Barb, one of our best and most senior teachers here.” She continued, walking over to the older woman who sat at the table with Melissa and drank her coffee. “She never complains. What is your secret, Barb?”

“Knowing there’s not much you can do, Ava.” The woman said with a sarcastic smile. But Ava didn’t care to hear her condescending tone.

“So understanding.” The principal smiled, looking around the room. “Be like Ms.Howard, people.” That was all she said before she left the room.

Noaya shook her head as she started to collect her things, knowing the bell would be ringing anytime soon.

“But, I’m not Ms.Howard.” Ms.Schwartz cried from where she stood.

“Ohh, Tina, look.” Janine started, walking over to the stressed woman. “Try some counting exercises, between one and forty the kids start to quiet down.” The other woman gave a slight nod before she exited the room, still in obvious distress. “You, know, a little support might help make things happen, ladies,” Janie said, turning around to face the older two women in the room.

“My support was gonna do about as much as that five-year-old bra you’ve got on right there,” Barbra said as she pushed in her chair. The camera then cuts to Naoya staring at the camera, her jaw clenched. Janine looked down at her chest for a slip second, before covering it up with her sweater and deciding to ignore the woman’s bra statement. “Hey, it’s not impossible to get things. Melissa asked for those new toy cash registers for her classroom and got them.”

“Yeah, those aren’t toys.” The Italian woman stared as she put on her coat. “I know a guy who wired a Walmart demolition. I got a guy for everything. I know a guy right now working on the stadium build. Need rebar?” She asked, looking around the room.

Noya just shook her head.

“No,” Janine answered.

“Melissa is resourceful, capable.” Ms. Howard started, looking between all the younger teachers. Naoya’shead jerked back at what she was insinuating but before she could say anything, Janine placed a hand on her shoulder and started talking.

“Well, I think the younger teachers are capable.”

“Really? Then why is it that Ms.Schwartz’s hair is falling out? Why does Jacob here need a smoking break every five minutes?” The woman sassed, gesturing over to the male beside her.

“I switched to an herbal vape.” He tried to defend himself.

“And why can’t any of you stick it out longer than two years? More turnovers than a bakery.” She hissed before her and Melissa walked out of the door. Once it shut behind them, Naoya turned to her friends beside her.

“I almost lose my job every day dealing with the people here.” She shook her head, resting her butt on the table behind her, the other two following suit.

“You know what? Hell, I think we should still try for rugs.” Jacob’s said.

“Yeah.” Janine agreed.

“You know, before I taught here, I was in Zimbabwe.” Jacob started, causing Noaya to stand up completely and begin to walk to the door. “I was going Teachers Without Boarders, and what I learned—.”

“Jacob.” Noaya cut in, turning to face the two of them. “What did we say you about, like, not talking about your time in Africa?” She said, gesturing between her and Janine. The boy stuttered, trying to come up with an appropriate answer.

“We told you to stop. Yeah, it’s weird.” Janine finished, looking over at the male.

“I have an immense amount of respect for my elders, including the ones I work with.” Naoya smiled at the cameras. “But Mrs.Howard has a smart mouth on her. A mouth that has never been directed at me.” She continued to smile, although strained, and raised her hands in mock defense. “But the day it is the day I got to prison.” And although she was finished, she was cut off by the sound of quick hurried footsteps making their way around the corner. She turned around just in time to catch Janine with a student.

“Noaya, come quick, there’s a fight.” The older woman got out as best as she could, although out of breath. Naoya ran around the corner, practically leaving the child and shirt woman in the dust.

“Damn, she’s fast,” Janine said, briefing glancing at the kids next to her before rushing to follow the running woman.

“What the hell is going on here?” Naoya yelled as she entered the hectic scene with a bat in her hands. She saw the crazed look the teachers were giving her and she shrugged. “I heard there was a fight, I brought it just in case.”

“Where did you get that? I was right behind you.” Janie asked, out of breath with her hands on her knees.

“I didn’t know she had it in her like that.” Melissa nodded a proud smirk on her lips. “I like her.”

“That’s beside the point, what happened?” Naoya asked, looking at the older white woman standing in front of a child. “He hit me first!” Ms.Schwartz said, pointing at the boy across from her.

“Liar!” The boy yelled back at her, being held back by Ms.Howard.

“I’m a liar? I'M A LIAR?” Ms.Schwartz asked a crazed look in her eyes, her gaze solely trained on the little boy.

“I can’t believe she hit a kid,” Noaya said, shock written all over her face as she folded her arms. “I mean, I threaten that I will but I never actually do it.” She shrugged.

“Okay!” Ava yelled, interrupting the conversation between the small group of teachers. “So, not good. Ms.Schwartz was out of line and clearly didn’t know how to handle her class.” The woman sighed.

“You hired her.” Melissa spat back.

“And fired her,” Ava responded. “They give me a lot of power around here. It’s crazy.” The woman smirked.

Melissa and Noaya both gave the camera a look of disbelief.

“In the meantime, Mr.Johnson will be watching her class.” Ava finished.

“Mr.Johnson the janitor?” Naoya spoke up. “Our conspiracy theorist janitor? Teaching social studies? Do we not see the problem with this?” She asked, looking around at the group.

“I think maybe we should alert the school district to this,” Jacob spoke up, getting spins of approval from the rest. “I mean, a child was harmed.” He tried to finish before Ava cut in.

“Hey! Harmed?” She questioned. “I handled this. No need to let them know that a child was harmed on my wa—” She stopped, remembering that she was being recorded, and looked towards the camera. “On the school's watch, to be clear.” She clarified.

“Ava, this is not handled,” Janine spoke up. “There is a 70-year-old custodian who voted for Kanye teaching social studies right now.” The woman stressed, pointing down the hall. “We need help. Look, I know we don’t have any money—“

“Okay!” Ava cut her off. “Alright. I’ll make a small emergency budget request to the district, and then you guys can get pencils and hire aides or whatever else you need.”

“So, even rugs?” Janine asked her entire demeanor from earlier changing at the woman’s words.

“Sure! Just email a request.” Ava replied.

“Okay! I can- I can write an email.” Janine smiled excitedly.”

“Another day in principal life.” Ava smiled at the cameras before walking away, horribly singing some old song. “I believe the children are our future.”

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“Um…Hello?” An unfamiliar voice called out as she came into the school building, making their way to stand in front of the desk. “I’m looking for Ms.Coleman.” The man said. Melissa looked up at him. “Oh, yeah she’s—“ She was cut off by Ava rushing up next to her.

“Hello.” Again said flirtatiously, looking the man up and down.

“Hi, I’m Gregory Eddie. I’m the sun for the teacher who, uh…” He trailed off, looking down at the papers he pulled from his briefcase. “Pinter a student.” The man said worriedly, looking back up at her.

“Oh! You’re the sub.” Ava said. “Forgive me, I thought one of my colleagues here hired a stripper for me.” Ava laughed off, dismissing the looks Melissa and Barbra gave her. “Okay.” That was all Gregory could say to that, giving the woman obvious judgmental looks.

“Nice to meet you, young man.” Barbra offered him a kind smile.

“Yeah, nice to meet you, Ryan,” Melissa said, staring at the together papers.

“It’s Gregory.”

“Eh, let’s see how long you’ll be here.” She said, only flexing up after she was done stapling. “Then I’ll remember your name. Okay, Tim?”

Gregory didn’t even have time to fully digest the interactions he just had with the women before him before Jacob came around the corner. “Yes!” He smiled, stalking up to the man. “My dude.” He said, arms open for some sort of hug but was cut short by Gregory putting his hand out. “Oh, yeah,” Jacob said, placing his hand on the one offered out to him. “Keeping it profesh. I like that.” He smiled, leaning against the counter. “I’m Jacob. It’s nice to see another male teacher in here. It’s not a lot of us. Hey, now I got somebody to talk sports with. You like women’s tennis?” The paler man asked, before shooting the camera a sideways glance. “Or, as I call it, you know, regular tennis.”

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Naoya was walking the halls, whistling a tune with her bad over her shoulders when she came across a tall, good-looking man in a gray sweater. Hearing her, the man turned around to see a tall, light-skinned woman with a large, light brown puff ponytail at the back of her head. She had on specs that covered most of her face, enlarging her eyes. She was dressed in a slightly baggy pair of dark wash denim jeans with brown shoes that matched the brown in her green sweater, paired with a white shirt underneath. Seeing the mysterious man, she furrowed her brows at him from down the hall.

“Uh, hello.” The man waved awkwardly from down the hall.

Naoya waved back as she made her way closer to the man. “Uh, hi. Are you lost?” She asked, slowing down when she got in front of him. “In a school building?…And smelling like pee and/or vomit. I’m calling security.” She started to back up and pull out her phone, or even yell before she stopped and frowned. “Oh wait, I am security.” She said, moving her bat to her good hand getting ready to swing.

“Wait!” The man yelled, sticking out his hands in defense. “I’m a sub! I’m here to fill in for the woman who kicked the kid.” He defended.

Naoya visibly relaxed as she looked the man up and down, taking in his formal attire. “Okay.” She said, dropping her defensive pose. “That still doesn’t explain the smell.” She said, giving the man a disgusted once over. Gregory stuttered to get an answer, embarrassed by the cameras and such an awkward situation in front of another beautiful woman.

“It’s a long story. A broken toilet, a student wet his pants, another one threw up.” The man shrugged, a look of disgust crossing his face as he thought it all over. At his words, Noaya nodded with a look of understanding.

“No, yeah. I get it. Well, um, congratulations on being here considering…” She trailed off, gesturing around the school and then to him. “If you need anything at all, I’m at the very end of the hall. I'm Naoya Lovel, and I teach fourth grade. I’ll be here to help any way I can, I am known for having everything anyone might ever need, so.” She shrugged and began walking away, pat him, and to her class. The man nodded, a sliver of a smile on his face as his eyes stayed trained on the spot she just left. Catching the camera out of the corner of his eye, she quickly straightened up and then turned the opposite way to face her. “May I ask why you’re carrying a bat?” He asked.

Naoya stopped walking, the bad still in her hand as she angled her body slightly to look back at him. “No, you may not.” She said with a smile before continuing to walk away and into her classroom. Gregory just nodded and walked into his room as well.

“Today was utterly disgusting, but she and Janine seem nice.” He smiled slightly.

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“I got a good feeling about this,” Jacob smirked at Naoya and Janine as they and the rest of the teachers gathered outside at the entrance of the school. It had something to do with Ava needing them to see the improvements she made to the school. “Right? Me too!” Janine said excitedly. Naoya rolled her eyes, stuffing her hands in her pockets due to the cold weather.

“I wish I could live in the blissful ignorance you guys call optimism.” She said, looking between her two friends. They only rolled their eyes at the girl, who was usually a pessimistic person, so they didn’t take her words too seriously.

“Good morning!” Ava said to all the teachers before her, who were obviously in no good mood. “Good Morning!” Janine was the only one to respond.

“Gregory.” Ava finished, giving the man a look. Noaya furrowed her brows slightly, throwing the man a sideways glance.

“The district was so moved by my plea that they approved the emergency budget and sent us the money right away,” Ava said to the group. The crowd started clapping, Jacob and Janine were genuinely happy while most were in shock that the district pulled through.

“Okay, we could have hired aides, we could have got rugs.” Ava continued as the clapping died down. “But then I thought, “No. We need something more immediate.” She said, her words causing Naoya to nod her head as she began slowly making her way away from the group. She knew this wasn’t going to end well, and this was her stopping herself from throwing her loafers at Ava’s head.

“Oh, no, no. The rugs are immediate.” Janie spoke up. “They’re like instant Xanax for kids. I explained it all in my email.” She told the group as she made her way to extract her phone from her purse.

“Girl, who told you to send an email?” Ava asked, looking down the steps at the shorter woman. Jannie stopped what she was doing and glared at Ava. “You did.” She hissed, looking at her confused.

“Anyways, I always feel better when I get my hair done.” Ava continued, not caring for what Janine had to say, as she showed off her new blonde number. “Thus, I do better work, like I’m doing now.” She smiled at them. “You know, fix the outside, the inside takes care of itself.” She then gestured up to the giant tarp over the building, the man pulling it down to show a sign.

It was a giant Willard R. Abbott Elementary sign with Ava on it, leaning onto the letters. The teachers just stood there and looked up at the sign, no words were said between any of them. But they all had the same thought.

What the fuck?

“Yall seeing this?” Ava asked, copying her pose that was on the sign.

“A plastic sign?” Janine asked, looking between the woman and the sign.

“Thank God for the school district, because they gave us $3,000 and I had to spend all of it.” Ava said as if she didn’t care about the severity of the words she just said.

“You spent all of the money on this?!” Janie asked in disbelief.

“Rush job, can you believe this quality?” The terrible principal continued.

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“This is fucking ridiculous, she has gone too far,” Naoya said as she, Jacob, Janine, and Gregory rushed back into the school.

“Somebody needs to do something before I get my bat back out. Actually, Forget the bat, I’m gonna go get a gu—.”

“Okay! Yes.” Jacob cut her off, trying to ignore the scared look Noaya received from Janine and Gregory, while she just continued to sit in her anger, not even seeing them. “Somebody, anybody but you, should do something.” The man said to the angry woman.

“You know what. I’m gonna do something.” Janine said, as stored up and Naoya. Well, maybe not as much but still fired up.

“Okay, alright. Whatever you do, I will co-sign it.” Jacob encouraged. “Yes!” Janine said. “That is how change works. Someone does something and somebody co-signs it.” He finished.

“I want Jannie to succeed in what her plan is because Ava needs to be out in her place, “professionally”, or whatever Jacob said,” Naoya stated, rolling her eyes. “But I also want her to prove something to Barb. For her sake. Because Janine really needs a mother figure in her life and the constant groveling for Barb’s praise is starting to make me want to choke.” She finished with a shrug. “That’s my girl though, I love her.”

“Hey, you two, wait up! I’m going out to lunch too.” Janie called out to Melissa and Bard as they walked down the hall. The camera caught Naoya, who rolled her eyes at the situation she was just talking about making an appearance as she walked after Janine.

“Oh yeah, where are you going for lunch pip-squeak? Bird feeder?” Melissa joked, putting her purse over her shoulder.

“Thought you’d be working on your next miracle from Saint Ava.” Barbra pushed.

“Ha ha, No.” The shorter woman defended herself. “I don’t think I’ll need anything from Ava ever again.” Janine smiled, her words causing the other three women to look confused.

“What does that mean?” Naoya chimed in from behind them, ready to go out for lunch as well.

“Well, I emailed the superintendent and told him everything Ava has done today. No way she doesn’t get fired.” Janie bragged.

“Oh, for the lives of God.” Melissa groaned.

“Janine,” Noaya said in disappointment. “This is why I told you to tell me.”

“What?” She asked, looking between the three women.

“The superintendent never sees our emails,” Barbra told her. “He has them bounced back to the person in charge of where they came from.”

“Wait, I’m sorry.” Janie stared. “Person in charge? That means the emails go back to…” She trailed off, the dots connecting. Just in time for said person to come in the intercom with an announcement.

“Teachers, it’s come to my attention that some of you—one of you—.” Ava clarified, looking through the glass of her office at the group of women standing at the door, her eyes trained on one in particular. “Think it’s okay to go over my head. So, during lunch break—this lunch break—we’ll be having a trait workshop so that we can learn how to become a woke family.” The woman was clearly pissed off, glaring at Janine from where she sat. “It’s gonna be fun!”

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“We are at a crossroads, this is a crisis,” Ava stressed as she stood before the hired group of teachers.

“No, a crisis is eating the cafeteria pizza for lunch.” Naoya chimed in from where she sat in the back.

“Uh, why are we here, exactly?” Gregory asked his seat right in front of hers.

“Well, chocolate drop.” Ava started, causing Naoya to snicker at the name. “I learned that someone here doesn’t respect me. But it’s not about me. Because if you don’t respect me, how can you respect this school?” She continued, causing them all to look at her confused as such a stupid correlation. But, it looks like Ava took that as a look of confusion due to her question.

“You can’t. It’s mathematically impossible.” She finished.

“W-Whoa. Who doesn’t respect you, Ava—I mean, the school?” Jacob asked.

“Me,” Naoya said but seemed to be completely ignored.

“It’s not important. We’re gonna make this a group matter so as too not to single any one person out.” The woman answered him. “Let’s try an excuse where we say whatever we want out loud to each other, no matter how critical. It’ll be fun, let’s start with Janine.” She said, looking over at the short woman who was practically shrinking in on herself.

“Janine?” She asked, smirking evilly.

“Yes?” Janine asked dejectedly, knowing that this whole situation was her fault and knowing that Ava did the exact thing she said she didn’t want to. Single her out.

“You’re pushy, squeaky and annoying,” Ava stated.

Collective disagreement was heated around the room.

“Excuse me?” Melissa piped up.

“Thaya just…” Gregory said.

“When is it my turn?” Naoya asked, starting to take her earring out of her ear.

“No, it’s not bad. No.” Ava defended. “We’re shaking to make us all better. Constructive. Hershey kiss, why don’t you try, start with Janine.” She pushed.

“I don’t want to.” The man sighed.

“You’re right, it should be someone who knows her better. Noaya, Jacob, Barbra?” She asked, looking between the two.

“When is it your turn? I wanna go when it’s your turn.” Naoya stated, folding her arms to keep herself at bay. Gregory glanced back, seeing the look of pure hatred on her face.

“Well, her hair is—“ Jacob started before getting cut off.

“Not!” Noaya and Barba said at the same time, the younger more so talking to her friend next to Janine, who gave the man next to her a look of disbelief.

“Ava, no one’s doing this to anyone.” Melissa started, looking at the woman before her.

“Hold on, I came prepared for this. Sheena, come on in.” Ava said, looking behind her to a student who was sitting behind the library desk.

“Ava, that is my student, she should be at lunch right now,” Janine complained, as everyone in the room looked at the little girl, trying to see what Ava's plan was.

“I am kinda hungry.” The little girl sighed, begrudgingly walking closer to the woman.

“Sheena, remember what we talked about? What was the thing that you wished was different about Ms.Teagues?” Ava asked the little girl. She just stood there, not knowing what to say as the whole room waited on her.

“She got some big feet.” Mr.Johnson chimed in from the very back of the children’s library where he was sweeping.

“Okay.” Janine sighed before standing from her seat. “Everyone, that’s enough. I am the person who disrespected Ava. I emailed the superintendent to tell him that she spent the school's money on a sign.”

“And got her hair done,” Naoya said, Janine, gesturing over to her in agreement.

“I’m sorry, Ava.” She continued. “And I’m sorry everyone missed lunch, especially you, Sheena. But I didn’t it because I care about the kids in this school, and that shouldn’t be a bad thing.” She ranted. “I—Okay. You know what.” She sighed, done talking. She felt as if no one was listening anyway and just wanted to leave. She was on her way out before turning back around. “Sheena, you should have this. I’m sorry.” She said, handing the school pizza over to the girl.

“Uh, no thank you.” The girl said, shaking her head. Janine just sighed again and turned to leave.

Ava chuckled as she watched the girl walk off, shaking her head. “Not a compelling speaker.” She smirked as she shook her head. “Charisma vacuum, am I right?”

Noaya cracked her neck as she stood up. The teachers in front of her filmed a little at the sound and her sudden movements. But she ignored that. “You know what, Ava? I was going to whoop your ass in the parking lot, and as much satisfaction as that would bring me, I don’t want to lose my job. Because I care about these kids. Just like Janine. And she may be a lot of things, like naive, a bit clingy and too cheerful—.”

“Ooh, this is good stuff, let me call her back in here,” Ava smirked as if she didn’t hear the first part of the girls’ speech.

“But she is also right.” Barba cut in, standing up with Naoya. “You know, actually wanting to help the children at this school shouldn’t be a bag thing.” The older woman finished for her. Afterwards, both her and Naoya walked out, letting Ava sit with their words.

They walked out to find the girl in front of her classroom, looking through the window. “Janine, ignore Ava. Big feet are a sign of fertility.” Barbra stated.

“I’m telling you to just give me the signal, I can have her framed for mur—something.” The light skinned girl said, catching herself in front of the cameras.

“Every lunch period, guys.” Was all Janine said before stepping out of their way to show the inside of her class. They both looked in seeing a little boy napping on his jacket, as the library door sounded again. “Every single one, Amir comes and naps in the rug.” She said, informing the whole group as Melissa, Jacob and Gregory joined.

“Mm-hmm. He was in my class.” Barbra said with a fond smile on her face. Mom’s got a lot of kids. Dad’s not around and when she is, the parents fight.”

“Right, so he doesn’t get much sleep. I told him to sleep at his desk, but she says that rug is softer—.” The shirt woman paused, trying to get emotional over the whole situation. “Softer than his bed at home.” There was a moment of silence as all the adults sat with her words. It’s hard hearing about the life of the kids you see everyday, knowing they live lives no one should. And knowing it’s on you to create a better life for them at school.

“You know what? I don’t care I you think I’m good at this or not anymore. I care about whether or not I can make a change.” Janine told Barbra as sternly as she could, which wasn’t a lot.

“Janine.” The woman started. “Teachers at a school like Abbott— we have to be able to do it all. We are admin, we are social workers, we are therapists, we are second parents. Hell, sometimes we’re even first.”

“Mm-hmm.” Melissa agreed.

“Why?” Barbra continued. “It sure ain’t the money.”

“Yup. I can make more working the street, easy.” Melissa chimed in. Causing Jacob and Naoya to look at each other in concern.

“Prostitution?” She mouthed over to the man, who shrugged.

“Look, we do this ‘cause we’re supposed to.” Melissa said to Janine. “It’s a calling. You answered.”

They all looked at eachother fondly, before Jacob started.

“I believe it was Brother Cornel West—“

“No.”

“Don’t.”

“Not right now, white boy.”

They all told him, causing the man to retreat back to his corner.

“You want to know my secret?” Barbra asked, ringing the subject back to where it was. “Do everything you can for your kids.” She smiled. “We’ll help. Hey, I suggest we put our money together and buy Janine the rug.” The older woman encouraged. “What yall think?”

“Absolutely.” Melissa said, pulling out her wallet.

“Guys, you can’t.” Janine started, looking between them. “You don’t have it. I know because I have the same salary as you and I overdrafted on a doughnut hole this morning.”

“Don’t tell me how much money I have.” Noaya stated, holding her hand out as a halt to the girl's words. “I do not claim that broke energy.”

“Well, why are you gonna do?” Barbra asked. “Steal a rug?”

“Not me, but I know a guy who knows a guy?” Janie trailed off, looking between Noaya and Melissa. The light skinned girl raised her hands. “I don’t know a cute guy that can steal that many carpets that fast.” She shrugged, a hopeless look on her face as she glanced at Melissa.

“Way ahead of you.” The woman said as she started typing into her phone. “I’m gonna have to bake a ziti.” She said, holding the phone up to her ear. “Hey, Tony, ya big strung, listen, you still working that stabiuk build?” She said into the device as she walked away from the group.

Sometime later, a guys pulled up in a truck around back with a bunch of rugs for them. They all celebrated, going one by one to grab a rug. “Yay! I finally have one! My room was so depressing.” Naoya said as she waked down the hall with her rug.

“You’re on a mission.” Gregory stated, looking at the shorter girl in between him and Noaya. “It’s cool to see.”

“Thank you. Just a day in the life of being a teacher here. You get used to it.” Janine smiled.

“And that smell in the walls?” He asked, pointing.

“Oh no, you’re never gonna get used to that. Sometimes I wish I had a bad nose like Naoya.” She joked, elbowing the girl next to her. The taller woman lightly groaned. “Janine, you know that’s a big insecurity of mine. I have a fear of smelling bad.” The half Japanese girl tried to clarify to the male. “You’re subbing to go full time right?” She asked, wanting to change the subject.

“Um, we’ll see.” He said as they all briefly stopped in the hallway. “This job definitely surprises me.”

“Well, I hope you stay.” Janine said. “For the kids.” She clarified. Naoya shot a quick glacé to the camera, a small smirk on her face. She then decided to walk away. The camera caught Gregory’s eyes jumping from both women walking away, a small smile on his face. He then looked in the camera and dropped his expression.

“I’ll stick around for a while.” He said. “You know, for the kids.”

“Look guys!” Naoya said as she rolled out her shakes rug for her students. They all celebrated, clapping excitedly at the fact that they had a rug now.

“Ms.Lovel, I hate the egales.” One student said, standing next to the woman.

“Yeah, me too, kid. But don’t tell anyone I said that.” She said, patting the top of their head as Ava walked past her door. She paused at the sight of the rugs. Naoya placed her hands on her hips and cocked her neck, making Ava glare at the woman for a quick second before walking away.

“And that kids, is how you get rid of the enemy without fighting.” She said, pointing around the room to make sure they were watching. “Now that we have a rug, let’s watch that nature documentary!” She said excitedly, causing all the students to yell with excitement well.

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gallusrostromegalus · 8 months ago

Note

Is Sakura Kinomoto in AEIWAM because I didn’t think I’d ever see your take on her but if Clow is there then the Best Girl might be there too

Yeah, but she's two grades behind Yuzu and Karin so they haven't seen her in person since they started middle school. Yuzu was closer friends with Tomoyo because of their mutual interest in fiber craft and cute stuff, but still follows her elementary school's Facebook page and shows Karin any time she appears in a sports photo. Karin hopes Sakura is going to their middle school next year because the girls soccer team REALLY needs a new Center Midfielder and Sakura would be GREAT.

#aeiwam #an elephant is warm and mushy #bleach #bleach fanfic #its a very informal crossover #i like populating the background characters of my fic with characters from other series #its like playing reference tag with the readers #so yeah #sakura is Karin's sportsball friend from elementary school

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lessthanpure · 1 year ago

Text

A Love Supreme Seems Far Removed Chapter 1

Fandom: Elementary

Relationships: Tommy Gregson/Sherlock Holmes

Tags: female Sherlock Holmes, Western AU

Summary: Thomas Gregson is a man in want of a wife. Sherlock Holmes is a woman in want of getting out. Can they help each other?

Rating: Explicit (not yet, but it will be)

Wordcount: 5360

Notes: Ok so I was stuck on titling this until i found a fantastic generator that spits out hozier song lyrics. Perfect. I might have chosen a basic-ass one, but it seemed to fit. Other possible options were: reasons wretched and divine, Found me just in time, and Only blue or black days. If y'all want to use one of those, OR the generator yourselves! Here it is.

AO3 Link

Sherlock Holmes is a woman of means. So her father expressly forbade her sending the letter to the mail-order bride company. But she had been on a ship to America before he realized she was even gone.

Sherlock hopes that any man who puts in an order for her is at least kind. She sighs and leans herself on the railing of the ship. She also hopes that America is drier and more free than England, though she’s read many novels and newspapers detailing the culture.

Tommy Gregson just wants some companionship. After Cheryl…he needs a change. So when his deputies had dropped the small bound pamphlet in front of him, he had read it in curiosity. He had stilled when he realized what exactly the pages detailed. Brides, ready for men to just…marry. He still gives the papers a thorough read, just to get his deputies off his back, but none catch his eye until the very last page three weeks later. Sherlock Holmes. An odd first name, for sure. But he finds himself reading her description. 5’9, tall for a woman. And slight, as well. 28 years old, black hair, blue eyes, fair skin…he can picture her. So he looks through the pages detailing the process for such a thing. There are ways to talk before he decides. Letters. He nods to himself, alone in his room, and writes to the company, asking for her address.

Sherlock checks the post every day, looking for any letters from possible…’suitors’ isn't the best word…’potential husbands’ is more accurate. But it’s weeks before she gets one. She takes it to her room and opens it eagerly. She examines the handwriting first- neat penmanship, which pleases her. That means the man takes care in everything he does. She reads the letter.

Ms. Holmes, the greeting says, which makes her even more pleased- not overly familiar. The house she’s in, with other mail-order brides, the women had said that the men that write often use the woman's first name or even a nickname like they know each other. There are the rare ones that write something sappy like ‘to my dearest love’ or what have you. She reads the letter.

I am writing to you to see if we would be a good match. My name is Thomas Gregson and I’m the Sheriff in Silver Road, New Mexico. I admit, I’ve never done something like this before. But I’m willing to give this a try because some companionship would be nice.

Since I have an idea of what you look like, I guess it’s only fair for you to have an idea of what I look like. I’m thirty-two, six feet tall, and going gray. I’ve spent my whole life in Silver Road. The town has a sheriff’s office, a saloon, a jail, a courthouse, and several houses. I live outside of town, in a house with a bedroom, a kitchen, a bathroom, and a front porch.

Let me know if you'd like to correspond,

Thomas Gregson

Sherlock hums, pleased. This Thomas Gregson, he seems both polite and honest. He also didn't force the issue, he asked for her permission for them to write each other. She picks up a pen and paper, and starts to write a reply. She goes through a draft, crossing out words that don’t seem to fit, before she’s happy with the result.

Gregson opens the envelope when he gets home. The penmanship is gorgeous and he raises an eyebrow at it. It almost looks like she comes from money, or at least was schooled like she was. He reads the letter.

Mr. Gregson.

As you might expect, my name is Sherlock Holmes, and I’m from London England. There’s really so much to explain to a person that just one letter, especially an introductory one, comes nowhere close to touching what they are truly like.

As far as myself, I am also looking for companionship. It’s the reason I wrote to the company- I was not driven by desperation, like some of the poor women at the home I am currently staying in. There’s no bad past behind me. Just an open future.

I appreciate that you asked for permission for us to write one another- it shows that you’re a good man. Consider this to be a formal invitation for us to continue to correspond.

Silver Road- and you- sound incredibly interesting, and I look forward to learning more about both.

I look forward to receiving your next letter,

Sherlock Holmes

Gregson hums. It’s a brief letter, and she hadn’t revealed much about herself. But Sherlock is right- one letter isn’t enough. He’s looking forward to more.

There’s several weeks of correspondence between the two before she agrees to come to him. She’s antsy on the train, looking out the windows as the somewhat familiar city disappears in favor of empty land.

When she arrives in Silver Road, she disembarks the train. Tommy- as he had insisted she called him- had said he would wear his uniform so he’s easily recognizable, and she looks for a star pinned to a brown shirt.

She soon finds it and looks at him from afar, hidden among the other passengers. Tommy is looking at every female passenger, probably wondering which one she is. He’s a handsome man, prematurely going gray as he described. It’s dashing. He’s tall and well-built, but not overly wide. He has a sinewy strength to him she quite likes. Before she takes a stride towards him, they meet eyes. She walks to him, her luggage in hand. He meets her. “Tommy,” she asks.

He nods. “Sherlock?” He has an accent, of course (everyone does), but it’s light and he uses it gently.

“Yes.”

“Mind if I take those,” he points at her suitcases.

“They’re light,” she says. He nods and doesn’t push.

“I didn’t expect the train to be late,” he says. “I apologize for that.”

“You don't control that. It was an interesting wait,” she replies. “Plenty of people to talk to, but most just wanted me to pronounce different things,” she rolls her eyes.

Tommy chuckles. “We don’t get many people from England ‘round here.”

“So I gathered.”

“Please, follow me,” he says, standing aside. She does. “Unfortunately, our judge doesn’t marry anyone after three in the afternoon," he starts as he walks beside her. "So you’re welcome to stay with me until the morning when we can be wed.”

“An unmarried woman staying with a man,” she questions.

“I won’t-” he stops himself. “I don’t expect you to have sex with me,” he says. “I just thought it would be nice to have somewhere safe to rest your head.”

“Is there a hotel in town?”

“Not much of one,” he admits. “It’s a few rooms above the saloon.” He snorts. “Most of them are rented by the hour.”

“It pulls double duty as a brothel,” she asks, surprised. He nods. She hums. “Does it have a flat rate for a night?”

“Yes.”

“Then there I shall stay.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

He nods again. “I’ll show you the way.”

Tommy brings her outside the train station and to a carriage. He steps up and offers his hand, and she takes it to let him help her up. He settles into the seat and picks up the reins, urging the horse into movement. “No one would think less of you for staying with me,” he assures her, looking at her. “We are to be married, after all.”

“I doubt that,” Sherlock says, voice dry.

“The West is not a savage land.”

Sherlock doesn’t reply. The rest of the ride is silent until they pull up to a two-story building. Music is flowing out of the doors, even though they’re shut. After Tommy helps her out, the doors open and two men come flying out. Sherlock quickly side-steps the brawling men.

“Knock that off,” Tommy demands. He waits for his moment and seizes one of the men, hauling him up with ease. Sherlock feels a shudder run through her at his easy strength. Tommy shoves the man away and gets between the irate men. “Go home, cool off,” he says, and one man grumbles and walks away. Tommy turns when he’s away and looks at the second man. “You too, Horace.”

Horace walks off.

“Still want to spend the night here,” Tommy asks.

“Yes.”

Tommy nods. He pushes the doors open and holds one open for her, and she steps inside. The building doesn’t offer much relief from the hot sun. There are several games of cards being played, a bar with plenty of alcohol, and women walking around, putting glasses in front of various men and some even sitting on laps. She follows Tommy to the bar.

“John,” Tommy calls, and the bartender turns.

“Sheriff,” John says, approaching him. “What can I do for you?”

“I need a room for the night,” he says. John glances behind him, to Sherlock.

“This your soon-to-be bride?”

“Yes,” Sherlock says.

“I’ll have Charlie send you up,” John nods. “Charlie!”

A woman soon appears. “Yes, John?”

“This lady needs a room for the night. Give her 4.”

“Sure thing.”

“What’s the cost for the night,” Sherlock asks.

“I’ll pay,” Tommy says.

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Sherlock, you’re to be my wife. You don’t have to pay.”

“How much for the night?”

John says the cost. Tommy glares at him.

Sherlock nods and sets her luggage down, drawing out her purse.

“Sherlock-”

“I’ll pay, Tommy.”

She hands over the money and John accepts it.

There’s a crash and Tommy steps to Sherlock, putting his back to her. Protecting her. It warms her.

“Sheriff,” the man in front of a small group of men says, smiling. The men behind him look rough. Every one of them is carrying a pistol.

“Moriarty,” Tommy greets cooly.

“I thought you were an ‘honorable man,’” Moriarty mocks the last two words. “Never figured you’d buy a loose woman.”

Sherlock scowls at Tommy’s back.

“What do you care what I do,” Tommy asks. Moriarty comes closer with two men while the other four go to tables.

Moriarty steps to his right and looks at Sherlock as best as he can. Tommy steps in front of her again, but not enough to completely block her from view. Moriarty drags his eyes down her body. “God damn, Sheriff. This one wasn’t here when I was last,” he says, cocking his head. “I might just have to buy a few nights with her myself.”

“Moriarty,” Tommy says warningly.

“What? Is she your personal whore,” Moriarty laughs. His eyes light up after a second. “Hold up,” he says. “She’s got suitcases. Did you send off for a bride, Sheriff?”

“Sherlock, go upstairs,” Tommy says without looking at her. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Tommy-”

“Go.”

Charlie stands next to Sherlock and she looks at her. The woman looks frightened. Sherlock nods and follows her.

“Who is Moriarty,” Sherlock asks when they’re in her room for the night.

“A bounty hunter,” the woman replies quietly. “One that always brings his bounties dead rather than alive.” Sherlock nods. “Stay in here tonight, lock the door. Don’t go out until the morning.”

“Alright,” Sherlock says. She knows she can hold her own, but it’s always good to meet people who don’t fight in the first place. Men who don’t turn sour when the bottle runs out or when they lose a hand of cards. "Thank you. Goodnight." Charlie leaves, politely closing the door behind her. Sherlock walks to it and locks it. She gets ready for bed and goes to sleep.

The next morning, Sherlock wakes early and gets dressed. She packs everything up so she's ready whenever Tommy comes. She walks downstairs and goes to John, who's oddly still tending bar. She thought there would be a fresh bartender.

"Morning," John says once she's close enough.

"Good morning."

"The Sheriff hasn't come by yet."

Sherlock nods. "I thought as much."

There are fewer men in the establishment than there had been last night, but still over a dozen. She looks around. Most of them drunks, some of them gamblers, some whoremongers. She can pick out exactly who is who, of course. She turns back to John. "May I stay down here so I can see the Sheriff when he comes?"

"Do whatever you want." Sherlock nods and settles at a table. "Want breakfast," he calls.

"Please."

A woman with a low cut dress is soon there. "What can I get you," she asks.

"What do most people get?"

"Grits and eggs."

"That's fine." The woman nods and walks off.

There’s a stampede of footsteps and Sherlock looks up. Moriarty and his men are coming down the stairs. John appears at her table, sitting in the available chair.

“Look who I found,” Moriarty crows. “The Sheriff’s mail-order bride,” he says. He stops near her table a few paces back. “Are you one of them virgin ones,” he asks. Sherlock glares at him. “Aw, come on sweetheart. I’m just asking a polite question.”

“No, you’re asking an invasive one.”

“Well, well, well. You ain’t from around here.”

“What tipped you off,” she cocks her head. Moriarty glares and takes a step forward. A black man in a brown shirt appears in front of her with his back to her. He has a pistol in his belt.

“Deputy,” Moriarty greets.

“Moriarty. I believe you’ve been told to leave this lady alone.”

“It’s just a friendly conversation, Deputy.”

A woman comes out and puts a plate in front of Sherlock. She looks at it, seeing eggs and a truly strange pile of…something. These must be the grits. She looks up again, not wanting to look away from Moriarty for very long. He’s a dangerous man. Sherlock can hold her own with her hands, the pistol at her ankle, and the knife in her boot, but she’d rather not risk it.

“Enjoy your meal, darlin’,” Moriarty says. He has the same accent as Tommy, but his is much harsher. He turns and walks to a nearby table, joined by a few of his men. The deputy doesn’t move. Neither does John. Sherlock eats her breakfast, enjoying the eggs and tolerating the grits. Food is fuel, nothing else, but there’s better fuel available. Perhaps not in Silver Road, though.

She hasn’t been done two minutes when Tommy appears at her side. “Ready,” he asks. Sherlock nods and stands. “I’ll help you with your things.” He offers his arm and Sherlock takes it, leading him to her room. He grabs her suitcases and brings her downstairs without a word. He keeps himself between her and the room.

“Have a nice day with your bride, Sheriff,” Moriarty calls loudly. “I’ll be seeing you.”

“Goodbye, Moriarty.”

Tommy brings Sherlock outside and into a carriage. He helps her in like he had before and they go to a building. He helps her down and they walk inside. He relaxes once in, which makes Sherlock relax.

“The judge will marry us here,” he says.

She nods. The judge soon appears and performs the ceremony.

Sherlock walks out of the courthouse a married woman with her husband beside her. He helps her in. “My deputies insisted they give me the day off today,” Tommy says as they get into the carriage. “So I’ll bring you home.”

“Alright.”

Tommy brings her outside town to a modest house and they go inside, Tommy holding her suitcase. “One is light,” he notes once he opens the door for her. She walks inside. “What did you bring? More specifically, what did you leave behind?”

“Is that important,” she asks.

“I guess not,” he says. “Follow me.”

She does, and he brings her to his room. He sets the suitcases on the bed. “Get settled in,” he nods. “Did you eat?”

“Yes. Eggs and grits.”

“Ah, I don’t like grits myself.”

“Me neither.” Tommy chuckles and Sherlock likes the sound.

“I’ll be sure not to make you any, then.”

“Make me any,” she repeats.

“I’ve been alone for some time, Sherlock. I do know how to cook.”

“And you don’t expect your wife to do that?”

“If you want to, you can, but no I don’t expect it.”

“You’re a strange man, Tommy.”

“I choose to take that as a compliment.” He smiles gently. “That one’s your dresser,” he points. She nods. He leaves and closes the door behind him. She unpacks her meager belongings and puts them away. She’ll get more here. She can sew well enough with the machine she brought, so fabric will do just fine. She often has to get clothes tailored to fit her tall frame anyway. Sherlock steps out of the room and finds Tommy in the main area, sitting on a couch. He stands when he sees her. “All good,” he asks.

“Yes.”

“Good.” He pauses, unsure for the first time. “I gotta be honest. I don’t have many days off, so I’m not sure what I’m gonna do today. Especially with a new wife,” he laughs. Sherlock finds her mind filled with just exactly what Tommy can do with a new wife. She feels her face warm and Tommy must see it. “I’ll wait until you’re ready, Sherlock,” he says, walking to her. “I’m not an impatient man.”

She smiles. “Thank you.”

“Sheriff,” a desperate voice calls outside, and Tommy runs out, Sherlock following him. There’s a man outside, eyes wide with fear. “There’s a fire in town!”

“Where,” Tommy demands.

“Watson’s house!”

“Fuck! Sherlock, stay here,” Tommy demands.

“I can help!”

“I want you safe! Stay. Here.”

“What if Moriarty comes by,” she challenges.

Tommy glares and grits his teeth. “Do you know how to ride a horse?”

“Yes.”

“Follow me.”

She does, finding two horses hitched to a fence. On the fence are two saddles, one normal and one side. He hefts the side saddle in his arms (again warming her with his strength) and quickly does the buckles. Sherlock steps forward and does the side facing her. Tommy gets his own horse ready with the help of the man, and they all get on their horses. The men turn theirs towards town, and Sherlock follows. Tommy urges his horse quickly, and she races after him. Soon, they’re in town and there are people yelling at each other as they carry buckets. Tommy stops his horse outside a building and gets down, running. Sherlock hops off and follows him, hitching her dress up so she can move quickly. They get to a building engulfed in flames. “Is Watson inside,” Tommy demands of the closest man.

“No!”

“Good.” He turns. “Sherlock, this is Brad. He’ll show you where the well is. Go.”

Sherlock nods and follows Brad. They both get two buckets and bring them back. Sherlock looks at the house, quickly assessing where exactly she needs to throw the water. She takes her buckets and goes around the side, putting one on the ground. She uses the other and precisely throws it on the source of the fire. It goes out. She brings the second bucket around and uses it at another source. She helps the townsfolk put out the fire and Tommy is soon next to her. He sighs. “Never seen a fire that big. But we put it out fast.”

“There were multiple spots of origin.”

“How do you know that,” he asks, looking at her.

“Someone set that fire.”

“But why?”

“Haven’t the foggiest idea. Who’s Watson,” Sherlock asks, turning to face him. He has soot on his cheek so she takes out her handkerchief and wipes it away. He stills. She cleans him up and folds the cloth again.

“My right hand deputy,” Tommy replies. He offers his arm and she accepts. They walk together and Tommy brings her to the jail. They walk inside and Sherlock sees a Chinese woman inside, fingers steepled in front of her face. There are a few men around, silent.

“Watson,” Tommy says, walking to the woman. Sherlock is surprised and follows him.

“Sheriff,” she stands. “You were supposed to have a day off.”

“Fuck that, your house was on fire.”

“I wasn’t inside,” Watson says. She looks at Sherlock. “This your new wife,” she asks, a smile playing at her lips.

“Yes. Meet Sherlock,” he introduces. “Sherlock, this is Joan Watson.”

“Pleasure,” Sherlock says. “I’m sorry about your home.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Gregson.” Sherlock startles- of course, her name is different now.

“Just Sherlock, please.”

Joan looks at Tommy, who nods. “Sherlock says that the fire was started in multiple places.”

“How do you know,” she asks Sherlock.

“I read a lot,” she shrugs.

“Where was the fire started,” Joan asks.

“The east side of your home, right in the middle of the base of the wall, the west side the same, the north side on either side of the door and in the center of your house,” she replies.

“Five,” Tommy demands. She nods. “How do you know, Sherlock?”

“Simple deduction, really,” she says. Tommy listens to Sherlock explain. She’s smart, and he doesn’t know how she saw what she did.

“Impressive,” he nods. She smiles a little. She doesn’t get told that enough, Gregson realizes. I’ll tell her that every day. “Did you see anything else? Something that would tell us who set it, maybe?”

Sherlock shakes her head. “No, the fire and water must have burned and washed away everything I could have used.”

“Sheriff,” Watson says, and he looks at her. “I think we all know who probably set it.”

“Moriarty,” Tommy says. “But you know we can’t just arrest him, even though Lord knows I want to. He has too many friends in high places.” Tommy sighs and Sherlock moves immediately, dropping his arm and gently rubbing his upper back. He relaxes under her fingers.

Sherlock sees his deputies looking at her, but she ignores them for now. Right now, Tommy needs some reassurance. “You’ll get him,” she says. “From what I’ve seen so far, I know you will.” Tommy looks at her and smiles a little. He huffs a laugh. He straightens and Sherlock stills her hand and slowly removes it even though she doesn’t really want to. His back is muscled and she wants to keep touching him. She warms and looks away from him. She still puts her hand in his offered arm.

“Alright,” Tommy says, and his deputies look at him. “Keep an eye on Moriarty, and keep your wits about you. We don’t know what he might do next. Watson, you can stay with me,” he says.

“No thanks, Sheriff. Bell already offered his guest room,” Watson says.

“Thanks, Bell,” Tommy says as he looks at a short black man. He was the one guarding her at the saloon that morning. Bell nods. “Sherlock, do you mind if I work today,” he asks.

“Sheriff,” Watson complains. “We have this covered. Spend time with your wife.”

“Watson, someone destroyed your home. I’m not taking a day off until Moriarty is taken care of.”

“Sheriff-”

“Watson,” Tommy cuts her off. “Sherlock and I have time,” he says. “I want him either in cuffs or out of town. I won’t rest until one happens.”

Watson looks at Sherlock briefly. “It’s alright, Deputy,” Sherlock assures her. “Like Tommy said, we have time,” she smiles gently. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Tommy smiles in her periphery and touches her hand.

“Thanks, Sheriff,” Watson says.

“Good. Now I want to go ask Moriarty some hard questions. Bell, with me. Watson, if you would stay here and make sure Sherlock’s alright.”

“You’re making me sit out,” Watson asks, incredulous.

“You need time to process,” Tommy says gently. “I promise, when the time comes you get to put the cuffs on him.” Watson pauses and nods. “Good. O’Malley, go see if you can round up the men Moriarty brought. Take Grell with you. Fulton, Hobbs, Wells. Once they’re found, separate them. Let me be clear- no one goes alone. Twos and threes. Got it?”

“Yes, Sheriff,” Watson nods.

“And Ripley,” he says, looking at a woman with no badge. “Stay with Watson and Sherlock.”

“Yes, Sheriff.”

“Alright.” Tommy looks at Sherlock.

“Be safe,” Sherlock says, taking her hand out of his arm. He catches it and presses a kiss to the back of her fingers.

“I will.”

He walks out with most of his deputies, leaving Sherlock and the other two women alone. Sherlock looks at them. “Nice to meet you,” Watson extends her hand.

“You as well. Do you prefer I call you Joan or Watson,” she asks as she shakes it.

“Joan,” she nods.

“Then Joan it shall be.” She turns to the other woman. “And is Ripley your given or surname,” she asks.

“My first,” Ripley replies. "So you can call me Ripley." Sherlock nods and smiles.

"Please, call me Sherlock."

"Odd, isn't it," Ripley asks. Sherlock furrows her eyebrows. "Being called by a different last name," she clarifies.

"I'll get used to it," Sherlock says. And she does hope she does.

"You do," Ripley smiles.

"So what do you do here, Ripley," Sherlock asks.

"I work the front desk," she explains. "But don't you worry, I can handle a shotgun as well as any deputy."

"I'm not worried," Sherlock replies. She isn't, surprisingly. She trusts Tommy to protect her.

"Where are you from," Joan asks.

"London, England."

"You're a long way from home."

"I haven't considered London home in quite some time," Sherlock admits.

"Why not," Ripley asks.

"Ever since my mother passed thirteen years ago, my father has been quite distant."

"How long were they together," Joan asks.

“Forty years,” Sherlock says. The women nod and look sympathetic.

“I’m sorry,” Joan says.

“It isn't your fault,” Sherlock smiles. “But thank you.” She looks out the door. “Should we get my horse,” she asks. “Unburden it?”

“I’ll come with you,” Joan says and stands. Sherlock nods, knowing that they won’t accept any of her protests. The women walk out and Sherlock takes the reins of her horse. The horse nickers and pushes her nose into her cheek. Sherlock smiles and strokes down her forehead. She leads the horse to the hitching post in front of the jail and ties her to it. She unbuckles the saddle and Joan helps her put it on the rail. Sherlock pats the animal fondly and walks inside with Joan. Joan stands behind a chair and gestures at it, offering it to Sherlock.

“I’m alright, but thank you.”

“So what made you choose the Sheriff,” Ripley asks.

“Truthfully, he was the first one to write to me. But as we wrote more to each other,” Sherlock trails off. “I’m not sure, it felt like…we understood each other.” She smiles and looks at her boots. “That must not make much sense. We’re strangers.”

“There are some people you just bond with,” Joan says. Sherlock looks up and smiles softly when there’s no judgment in her voice. “And it feels like you’ve known each other for years.”

“Exactly.” Sherlock wants to ask, but Ripley and Joan are hardly impartial.

“What is it, Sherlock,” Joan asks.

“Nothing.”

“Sherlock.”

She pauses. “The Sheriff…is he a good man?”

“The best,” Joan nods. “He’s the only Sheriff for miles who’s an honest man and keeps women and black men on his staff.”

“And behind closed doors?”

“He’s never done anything untoward,” Ripley promises her. “Not towards me, Joan, or any other woman in town.”

“Then,” Sherlock starts. She holds her tongue.

“Then why hasn’t he found a wife,” Joan asks, smiling. Sherlock nods. “He’s committed to his work. He hasn’t had the time. But everyone needs companionship. So a few deputies kept dropping catalogs on his desk,” she laughs. “He would read them, but quickly. Until he saw your name.” Sherlock’s cheeks warm. “I think he thinks you understand him, too,” Joan continues. “He’s been nervous since you told him you’d come.” She warms further, and Joan smiles reassuringly. “You’ll see,” she promises. Sherlock nods.

The day draws on and Sherlock gets to know the women. When the sun has almost set, Tommy walks in with a few men. Sherlock looks up, concerned. “No luck,” he says. “Sherlock, let’s go home." She nods and stands.

“It was nice meeting and getting to know you both,” Sherlock says. “You too, Sherlock,” Joan says, and Ripley nods, smiling. Sherlock goes to Tommy and takes his offered arm. He leads her outside and her horse is ready. She gets on and he gets on his own horse. Two men escort them home, and then Tommy sends them off once they’ve arrived.

Sherlock and Tommy look at each other for a moment. “Do you want a bath,” Tommy offers. “I can draw you one.”

Sherlock pauses. “A bath sounds lovely, thank you.”

Tommy nods and walks. Sherlock pauses and then goes to his- their- room, picking out some sleeping clothes. She drapes them over her arm and goes towards the sound of Tommy preparing a bath for her. He’s sitting on the edge of the tub, pouring hot water in. He looks up at her approach. “Check the temperature,” Tommy says, standing. “Make sure it’s alright.”

Sherlock nods and puts her clothes on a stool, going to him. She checks the water and nods. “Perfect, Tommy. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

He leaves the room, closing the door behind himself. Sherlock undresses and gets in the bath, washing up. It’s nice having time to do this, instead of on the train when she could only freshen up. She can get clean, wash away the grime of travel. She washes every part of her and her hair, and then dries herself and gets dressed. She braids her hair, walking to their room. She pauses outside the door and finishes the braid before tying it and knocking on the door. “Come in.”

Sherlock opens the door and Tommy is still dressed. “I could draw you another bath,” she offers. “The hot water will help you relax.”

“I’ll do it.”

“Tommy. You’ve done so much for me, just let me help.”

“Sherlock, you don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

“Alright.” Tommy helps her empty the tub and Sherlock draws a fresh one for him, standing aside to let him check the temperature. “Perfect, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Sherlock pauses, unsure, but leaves the room, closing the door behind herself.

Tommy undresses, thinking. He has a wife now. A beautiful one, too. He had read her description, but it didn’t come close to actually describing her. He gets in the tub, sighing. He closes his eyes and puts his head back. Sherlock’s right- the hot water helps. Fucking Moriarty. He causes nothing but trouble, but he’s never done something like this. Assaults, yes. Harassing, yes. But never setting fires, and certainly nothing to any deputy. He scrubs himself clean and then dries off, belatedly realizing he didn’t bring any clothes with him. I’m a fucking idiot. He wraps the towel around his hips and walks to the bedroom door, knocking.

“Come in.”

Tommy does, and Sherlock is already lying in bed. Her eyes dart down his chest to the towel, and then she looks away from him completely. “You don’t have to knock,” she says.

“You did.”

“Force of habit.”

He nods and goes to his dresser, pulling on pants. He puts the towel in the laundry and goes back, emptying the tub. He steels himself outside for a moment before he heads back in. He opens the bedroom door without knocking and Sherlock looks up. “Tomorrow we can get you whatever you need,” he promises as he stands beside the bed. He pauses and Sherlock flicks the blanket back. He gets in.

“That sounds nice,” she replies. “I can sew well enough, so just fabric is fine. I always had to alter my clothes anyway,” she continues as Tommy settles in. She looks at him. “Do you want to sleep right now?”

“Don’t go to sleep on my account.”

“No, I’m tired.” Sherlock reaches and turns off her lamp. Tommy turns and does the same. “Goodnight, Tommy.”

“Goodnight, Sherlock.”

#elementary fanfiction #elementary fanfic #elementary fic #elementary #western au #female sherlock holmes #my fics

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4theluvofsapphos · 11 months ago

Text

Butterfingers - ch.1

pairing: Melissa Schemmenti x Futch Mechanic!Reader

a/n: HI FIRST MEL FIC AHFUDJ the worms…the voices…. anyways i don’t usually describe reader since i know that can take away from the experience but a tall buff himbo futch reader x a petite angry italian is just too good 😭 enjoy! i plan for there for be some possible smutty smut in the FARRRR future but this is first and foremost melissa learning how to love again!!-

chapter 2 here

“I didn’t know we had a new vending machine guy! Gregory, we have a new vending machine guy!” Janine looked to Gregory, who in turn nodded and looked up from his laptop.

“I noticed…uh- hi, by the way. That’s Janine, I’m Gregory.”

You looked to the two from your kneeling position by the old vending machine, matching names to faces before clearing your throat to introduce yourself in turn.

“Hi Gregory, Janine…my name I-“

“Who the HELL took my mug?!” A loud voice bellowed from across the room, the doorway now occupied by a stout looking redhead, and an angry one at that.

“…Which mug? Oh..” Gregory immediately blurted out, looking from his to the sink’s counter. “I thought- I figured this was a communal mug, was this- not a communal mug? I’m sorry, I- I’ll just go get a new mug for you Melissa-“

The fiery features of the redhead son softened, her brow knitting together in confusion. “Did ya not read the front? It says ‘Schemmenti’s the best teacher ever’ on the front, see?” The woman marched over to where Gregory stood, spinning the mug around with her one hand and pointing with the other.

“Right, okay. To be fair, I am not enough of a cryptologist to decipher 2nd grader writing. But now that you said it- I…I definitely see it, yeah.”

—————————————————

You stayed kneeled on the floor, Janine blocking your view slightly, and Gregory standing in the way of the redhead’s sightline. She hadn’t yet seen you, and you didn’t know whether to feel grateful or petrified…A mixture of both swirled in the pit of your stomach, growing heavier with each passing moment. Janine then turned to look at you, smiling sheepishly and sidestepping to walk towards the pair.

“Hey so Melissa- Uhm…you left the mug here yesterday, so I cleaned it for you and put it on the rack to dry. I’m sorry if that was what caused all this.” The woman, who’s name you now knew was Melissa, seemed dissatisfied with this explanation.

“Look hon, next time you don’t know, just ask?”

“Sure, yes, of course! You’re right. Sorry Melissa.” The young teacher bowed her head, nodding in agreement and proceeding to stand awkwardly next to Melissa for the next minute or so in silence.

—————————————————

After Gregory had settled back into his seat, the previously controversial mug now emptied into a default ‘employee lounge’ mug. You had continued your work quietly, not looking at the room much to avoid the palpable tension. As a couple more teachers filed in, a young twinkish teacher, and a teacher that seemed around Melissa’s age. She gave you a small smile, introducing herself as Barbara. In return, you told her your name, shaking her hand gently, before asking if she had any requests for the machine.

“Me? Oh, no.” She waved the question off with a dismissive hand,”However, if you want to make some friends, I’d ask the others.” She then gestured to the few that sat a few feet away.

“Gushers. Please.” Janine blurted, grinning. “The other guy used to bring in Gushers, but since Meliss-“ Gregory held up his hand, cutting off his coworker.

”Nah ah ah- not important. You want Gushers- she wants Gushers, please.” Janine nodded excitedly, and you smiled back.

“Uhh, Gushers? Sure! I can probably find something at the warehouse.”

“I got a guy that works at a candy store.” A voice piped up from the table to your right. You looked to see it was Melissa, fork in hand, what looked to be some leftover ‘rigatoni Calabrese’ in her Tupperware.

“Oh! It’s no worries. I remember seeing a few packages on the east wing by the back. I can bring them tomorrow, if I have time.” You reply, standing up to talk properly with the others. Melissa watched you carefully, seeming to hold your gaze with a challenge behind her own. For what, you weren’t sure…But you were feeling the heat from her, and it was making your palms sweat. It wasn’t about the fact that she was glaring you down— it was the way she was doing it that made you nervous. You weren’t a small girl by any means. You were nearly 6’2”, with enough workouts in you to put a bouncer to sleep. The problem was that you knew she didn’t like you.

Melissa glared with contempt. Behind her eyes, the gears were churning up something ugly.

You weren’t the guy she knew, why should she trust you? The last one went horribly wrong, why wouldn’t this one?

Regardless of your social standing with her, you took a few steps towards her, offering your best smile. “Well, do you want anything for the vending machine? I have no problem stocking it.”

You had been working there for a few days at this point, but most of your job consisted of doing maintenance on the vending machines in the cafeteria and halls. But after your employer noted an extra vending machine in a non-documented area, you did some digging and found that the previous technician noted an extra vending machine in the employee lounge…thus— here you were.

Melissa replied by shooting you a pointed look. “No. I’m fine.” After a long pause, she tacked on a little ‘thanks, though’ at the end. You nodded, taking your queue to head back to the machine. As you finished loading the already available inventory, the teachers all began to head back to their classrooms.

—————————————————

When you got up, you expected to see the room empty. You were wrong— Melissa stood behind you, her controversial mug in hand, and an unreadable look on her face. You cracked a little smile, clearing the hair from your face and setting down the empty box you were about to leave with.

“You got Butterfingers?” She asked, raising a brow.

“Oh- I don’t- I’m sorry! Did I drop something?” You looked around the floor, trying to think if you recall dropping any inventory while you were stocking.

“No! I meant the candy, hon.” She sighed, pinching her brow and shaking her head slightly. You felt your face go red with embarrassment at the misunderstanding. She seemed to be amused, but you felt stupid.

“That- that makes a lot more sense. I have Butterfingers, yeah! Would you like me to stock some..?” She thought for a moment, and shook her head.

“It’s— kind of a guilty pleasure. You think ya got any more discreet ways to slip me one or two every now and then?”

You looked to the machine, then back to Melissa, before nodding. “I can do that…no problemo!” You gave her a little thumbs up, picking up your empty box, before heading for the door.

She followed after you, giving you a small smile and nodding. “Maybe you ain’t so bad. Thanks, hon…my name’s Melissa, by the way.” She held the door with her foot, looking up at you when she spoke.

You looked over to her, chuckling lightly. “Pleasure to meet you, Melissa. I’m y/n. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Before you headed down the hall, you looked to her coat. It was a nice leather jacket that you felt matched her tough exterior. “I like your jacket, by the way. It suits you.”

“Yeah? Thanks.” She offered, but the appreciation seemed rehearsed. Something in her eyes faltered, before she turned on her heel and quickly left in the direction of what you presumed to be her classroom.

Melissa Schemmenti was an enigma to you. But you would figure her out eventually. It couldn’t hurt…could it?

#melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader #abbott elementary #melissa schemmenti x y/n #wlw fic #abbott elementary fic #lisa ann walter #yipppeeeeeee #futch reader #butterfingers fic

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