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morgana-larkin · 1 day ago

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Here is part 13 of 'Just Tired' peeps! I still can't believe we were deprived from our babygirl this week, I'm missing her. Not edited in the slightest and I hope you like it!

On another note: I'm also working on the next chapter of Worth It, it's at about 2k words so far! Also there will not be anything updated or posted next Thursday (February 27) as it's my 25th birthday, as well as March 1 as that's when my family is having the party.

Just Tired - Part 13

Warnings: Manipulative Relationship (mentioned), Smut, Swearing, Emotional setback

Words: 3.4k

You’re curled up against Melissa’s body when you get a text. Melissa reaches over and grabs your phone and hands it to you.

“Thanks.” You tell her before looking at the text. “Janine is inviting Jacob and I to this trivia thing tonight.” You say to her. “Do you want to come? I know you’re super smart and we’d win with you on the team.”

“No thanks, I’d rather not spend more time with those 2 than I already have to.” She tells you and you nod before replying to the text.

“Well I’m going, I love trivia. I was actually thinking of doing a little trivia game with my kids one day.” You tell her as you put your phone down.

“Oh, they’ll love that.” She says and you hum.

“Well I gotta go.” You say and get up but she brings you back to her body.

“No, stay.” She says and she wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“I have to go home and eat something before I go. It starts at 7 and it’s 4:30.” You tell her.

“You can have some leftovers here but I want that hour longer with you.” She says and you look at her.

“Hour longer to do what?” You ask her and she runs a hand up your leg.

“Maybe some more of what we already did.” She says as she reaches your clit and starts slowly circling it. You automatically buck your hips as she applies more pressure and you moan out. “God, you’re so beautiful, and the sounds you make, I could listen to you moan all day.” She says and the compliments only make you wetter.

“Oh god Melissa, don’t stop, please.” You say and she starts going faster and you fall on your back. It’s not long until you’re right at the edge and you come with a gasp. “Fuck.” You say as you try and catch your breath.

“You alright hon?” She asks and you nod.

“Ya, you just gave me one hell of an orgasm, that’s all.” You tell her and she giggles as she brings you closer to her to help you calm down. “Oh god, your tits are turning me on again.” You say and she quirks an eyebrow at you before she chuckles.

“Oh ya?” She says and you nod and then you put a nipple in your mouth. “Oh god, yes, don’t stop.” She says and you continue to suck and lick her nipple while you play with the other one. You switch to the other one when she starts bucking her hips. You end up straddling her lap to get to the other one and Melissa touches all over your body. “Fuck me, please.” She begins begging and you pull away from her nipples.

“I was enjoying your nipples though.” You say and she groans.

“You could enjoy them another time, just fuck me.” She says and you bring your hand down to her entrance and are able to easily slide a finger in her and she gasps. You begin to slowly pump into her and she’s gasping and moaning underneath you. You slide another finger in her and then go faster. “Oh fuck!” She yells out and you smirk. You start curling your fingers inside her and then she feels her orgasm start to build. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” She yells out and then her orgasm washes through her. “I can’t believe I was missing out on this from being with him.” She says and you smile.

“Not everyone is good at sex, luckily for you, I am.” You tell her and she chuckles breathlessly.

After an hour of cuddling, you both get up and get dressed before she goes to reheat some leftovers for you. She puts some on a plate before popping it in the microwave.

“I’m glad you suggested this casual dating thing, I think that’s the best thing for me right now.” She says and you hum.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve done casual dating, I did it quite a bit when I was 20.” You tell her and she hums.

“Well you’re very pretty so I bet the girls were all over you.” She says and you chuckle.

“You think I’m pretty?”

“I think you’re stunning.” She tells you and you blush.

“Well thank you.” You say and then the microwave beeps.

“Here, have some food. You need some fuel after all we did.” She says and you giggle as she puts a plate in the microwave for herself.

“I had a lot of fun today.” You tell her and she smiles at you.

“So did I. I haven’t had fun like that in a while.” She says as she leans on the counter to look at you.

“You realise you’re showing a lot of your tits like that, right?”

“Are you complaining?” She asks and you shake your head.

“Although it’s making me want to touch them and then eat you out.” You say and she smiles before she gets her plate out of the microwave. “Can I ask you something about Joe?” You ask her and she nods. “Did he often guilt you into changing your mind about something?” You ask her and she thinks about it for a second.

“Yes, quite often actually. The most common thing was sex.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well I stopped enjoying having sex with him and I was never really turned on when we did it. I said no to sex at least twice a month and he got me to change my mind every time. Often saying things like ‘do you think you’re too good for me?’ or ‘why are you withholding affection from me?’ are some examples.”

“You are too good for him. He’s a fucking asshole who never deserved you.” You tell her and she looks at you.

“Thanks, hon.”

“Hey, Melissa, we’re home!” Barb calls out.

“I’m in the kitchen.” Melissa says and Barb appears a few seconds later.

“Oh hello dear.” Barb says to you.

“Hi Barb.”

“How was the date?” She asks you both.

“It was a lot of fun, I pushed Melissa on a tire swing at the park.” You say and Melissa chuckles.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had that much fun on a swing before, even when I was a kid.” Melissa says.

“I’m enjoying my time with you but I do have to go in half an hour.” You say and Melissa nods.

“Where are you going?” Barb asks you.

“Janine invited Jacob and I to trivia tonight and it starts at 7.”

“You’re not going, Melissa?” Barb asks her and Melissa shakes her head. “I think it might be good for you to do things like that.”

“I don’t want to spend any more time with those two than I have to.” She says to Barb. “They already annoy me enough at school.” She adds and you chuckle. “What?”

“They actually keep wanting to be friends with you two.” You tell them.

“Well that ain’t ever gonna happen.” Melissa says.

“As much as I respect them for wanting to work at Abbott, they are a bit much to be around.” Barb tells you.

Half an hour later Melissa drives you home and then you drive yourself to the bar for trivia. You walk in and see Janine and Jacob at a table and they wave you over.

“Hey guys.” You say.

“Hey Y/n, how was your weekend?” Janine asks you.

“It was good. Finally got Melissa to talk to me again after a week of her ignoring me.” You tell them.

“How did you get her to do that?” Jacob asks.

“That’s a secret.” You say and they sigh.

“You can’t just get someone like Melissa to talk to you again and not reveal how.” Janine complains.

“Ya. What’s your secret, are you a wizard?” Jacob asks you and you chuckle.

“I could be.” You tell them with a smile.

“Is everyone ready for trivia?” A voice announces and everyone claps and yells.

You guys end up getting your asses beat by half of the groups.

“That was a lot of fun!” Janine exclaims. “We should do this all the time.” She adds.

“I don’t think I could do this every Sunday night.” You tell her and Jacob agrees with you. “Besides you’re in a relationship, don’t you have a life with him?” You ask her.

“It’s sometimes hard to have a life when we’re both poor. I mean I overdrafted on a donut hole this morning.” She says and you giggle.

“I understand that, I mean I wasn’t able to afford gas for 2 weeks.” You say. “It was either food or gas.” You add.

“How were you able to get gas again?” Jacob asks you.

“Well, Melissa found out that I was only eating microwavable meals and she got a bit offended at that and made me a meal that lasted a week and I was able to buy some gas instead of spending it on food.” You explain.

“Why was she offended?” Janine asks you.

“Cause she’s Italian, and cooking is a huge part of her heritage and life.” You tell her. “Well I gotta go if I’m not going to be a zombie tomorrow morning.” You tell them before you bid them goodbye and leave.

You get home around 9:30 and then you get ready for bed. You get comfy in bed and then you get a text and look at your phone.

Melissa: Hope you had fun tonight! I got like 20 questions asked by Barb

You: Sounds like torture, and I had a lot of fun. We got our asses beat though

Melissa: Glad you had fun! Good night, hon

You: Good night Melissa

You text that to her before you fall asleep. You wake up by your alarm the next morning and then you get ready for work before you go to work.

“Good morning.” You tell them all as everyone is already there.

“Morning Y/n!” Janine exclaims. “I know you both said you can’t do trivia every Sunday but what about this Sunday?” She asks both you and Jacob.

“Janine, it’s Monday morning, I don’t even know what I’m doing tonight, let alone Sunday.” You tell her and she hums.

“Same here.” Jacob says.

“Alright, fair enough.” She says and you go to get coffee from the coffee maker.

“Morning Barb and Melissa.” You tell them.

“Morning dear.” Barb says and you look to see Melissa absentmindedly playing with the spoon in her coffee.

“Melissa?” You ask her and she snaps out of whatever she was thinking and looks at you.

“What?” She asks and she sounds tired.

“Are you alright?” You ask her and she nods.

“Just didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.” She says before she gathers her things. “I’m just going to relax in my classroom until the little eagles get here.” She says and then leaves. You sit in Melissa’s spot and look at Barb.

“Did something happen last night?” You whisper to her and Barb shakes her head.

“No, I just asked her a few questions about the date after you left and then we both watched some tv before we went to bed.” Barb tells you. “If you’re worried then you can check on her, I don’t think she’ll mind.” She tells you.

“Do you think I should? Would you check on her if you were me?” You ask her and she nods.

“If my friend was upset then I would want to know how to help them.” Barb tells you.

“But Melissa is your friend.”

“Yes and she’s going through a rough time right now and I can’t help her a lot at the moment. But I’m also not her safety net, you are.” She says and you sigh.

“I’m going to go check on her.” You tell her before you grab your things and leave. You walk to Melissa’s classroom and see the lights are off. You knock on the door and then you open the door and peek your head in. “It’s Y/n, can I come in?” You ask her.

“Sure.” She says and you walk in and close the door behind you. You see her at her desk and she’s using her arms as a pillow for her head on her desk.

“Did something happen last night or this morning? I know you said you’re just tired but your eyes were saying something different.” You tell her and she sighs.

“I got the divorce papers last night.” She says softly.

“Isn’t that a good thing though? It means you can finally divorce him.” You tell her.

“I know he won’t sign them which means I’ll have to take him to court.” She explains and you let out a breath.

“Oh, that is unfortunate.” You say and she hums. “But Barb and I will be here to support you the whole time.” You tell her.

“And both of you won’t leave even if things might get messy?” She asks and you walk over to her.

“You’ve seen what I look like in the morning, that kind of bond is hard to break.” You tell her and she chuckles.

“I think you look cute in the morning.” She tells you and she lifts her head.

“I look like a fucking disaster.” You counter and she smiles. “In all seriousness, I don’t plan on leaving your side. You were an ass to me and ignored me for a week and I’m still here for you.” You tell her.

“Thank you.” She says and you go over and hug her. You then start to hear voices in the hall and look to see there’s 5 minutes until the bell rings.

“Do you want 5 minutes alone?” You ask her and she shakes her head.

“Can you stay?” She asks and you nod. You sit on her desk next to her and you grab her hand. You stay rubbing her hand gently until the bell rings and then you give the hand a kiss before you go to your classroom

“Have a good day.” You tell her and she nods

“You too.” She says and then you leave her classroom.

The day goes by normally after that. You notice Melissa having fun teaching her kids something new and the fact that they’re engaged in the topic. At lunch you see her laughing and chatting with Barb, and at the end of the day, you see her saying goodbye to her kids with a real smile.

Shit seemed to hit the fan about an hour after you got home. You were grading some work sheets when you get a call. You see that Barb is calling you and you furrow your eyebrows before you accept the call.

“Hey Barb, what’s up?” You ask her.

“Y/n, can you come over? It’s Melissa.” She says.

“I’ll be right over.” You tell her and end the call before you grab your keys and you’re out the door. You get to Barb’s about 15 minutes later and you knock on the door. Gerald opens the door and lets you in.

“They’re upstairs.” He tells you and you nod before you go upstairs.

“It’s going to be ok.” You hear Barb say and you go to Melissa’s room.

“No it won’t, because that stupid! Fucking! Asshole! Won’t sign the damn papers!” You see Melissa yell and hit the bed with a pillow. “He’s still trying to control my fucking life even after I leave him.” She says and you knock on the door. “Y/n, what are you doing here?” She asks you.

“I called her, I thought she could help.” Barb tells her.

“I don’t need Y/n’s help or yours, I just need Joe to sign the damn papers so I don’t have to go through the whole court bullshit.” She says and runs her hands through her hair. “Oh god, I’m going to have to take him to court, I don’t have the patience or money for that.” She says and you walk over. “Why won’t he just sign them? Why is he still trying to control me?” She asks both of you.

“That’s what manipulators do, they want to trap you for the rest of your life.” You tell her and you see tears begin to start in her eyes.

“Aaahhh! Fucking hell!” Melissa screams and continues hitting the bed with a pillow.

“Ok, calm down.” You say and slowly approach her.

“Don’t tell me what to do.” She says to you.

“I wasn’t telling you, it was more of a suggestion so you don’t hurt yourself or something in the room by accident.”

“I wouldn’t hurt myself, I’m not a fucking idiot!” She yells at you and you can see why Barb called you, Melissa is losing it. Barb cautiously leaves the room to leave you be to try and calm Melissa down.

“You are far from an idiot, you are so smart.” You say and stay a few feet away from her. “It’s Joe who’s the idiot.” You add and she throws the pillow across the room.

“He’s a fucking asshole! I gave him 25 years of my life and he won’t give me the courtesy of signing the damn papers!” She yells.

“I know, he should but he won’t. So you’ll take him to court and you’ll win and milk him for everything he’s worth.” You tell her and she looks at you. You then see all the anger leave her and a tear falls down her face. You go up to her and her knees collapse as soon as you touch her.

“Ahhh!” She yells out and you wrap an arm around her shoulders. “What did I do to deserve this?” She asks.

“You didn’t do anything to deserve this, it’s just the shitiest luck ever.” You say calmly and she nuzzles her head into your chest and neck. You end up stroking her head while she cries on you.

Barb comes to check on you both about 10 minutes later and sees Melissa relaxing on your chest.

“I’ve brought you both some tea.” Barb says as she comes in with two cups.

“Thanks Barb.” Melissa says and takes a cup while you take the other.

“I’ll leave you two be.” She says and then leaves.

“Thank you for coming to help me.” She tells you as she takes a sip of the tea.

“Why wouldn’t I?” You tell her and she sighs as she puts the cup down.

“I feel like everytime I feel like I’m making progress, something comes along to remind me of my life, of him.” She says and you put your cup down beside you and look at her.

“Melissa, you are making progress. It doesn’t happen overnight and doesn’t happen right away. You will have many more of these setbacks but that just proves that you’re moving forward.” You tell her and she lets out a breath.

“I just want to move on with my life.” She says and lets out a sob as a couple of tears run down her cheek.

“You will, it won’t start with the divorce. It already started because you left him and you don’t want to go back.” You tell her. “Do you want to go back to him?” You ask her after a second.

“No, I will never go back to him. I’ve finally started living and I want more, to experience a lot more. I want to experience what life has to offer, the stuff I never got to do.” She tells you and you smile.

“See? You are moving on already because you want to.” You tell her and she looks at you. “All this, the setbacks, they will happen but they will only stop you from living if you let them. But if you continue living, even with the setbacks, then there is nothing that can stop you from what you want and you will find the happiness that you want, in whatever form that takes.” You tell her and she grabs your hand.

“Thank you, thank you so much.” She tells you and hugs you. She pulls back after a few seconds and looks into your eyes that shine with adoration. She then leans forward and kisses you and you kiss her back immediately.

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#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x oc #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti #x reader #fanfic #lisa ann walter #law #abbott elementary

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ankhsta · 2 days ago

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Rookie Pt. 2

You finally get home, relieved you throw your jacket on the ground and head straight to the couch, only to have your phone buzzes from an unknown number.

You: Who’s this?

The longer Melissa starred at the text the more anxious she got, what would she say? She wasn’t one to apologize, nor go out of her way to make sure you were okay. Instead she full on ignored the message. After all you were just the rookie.

——————

The day passes and you get ready for yet another day of hell. As if the previous day wasn’t already enough. Your classroom has a miss behaving student whose parent is impossible to reach. You already feel like you’re not cut out for this, explaining your outburst yesterday.

——————

You walk into Abbott, sign in, greet Janine then head straight to your classroom as always. Upon entering you see your classroom lights on. Confused and assuming it was Mr. Johnson, you enter and see Melissa Schemmenti effortlessly resting her head, eyes shut, waiting for you.

You took a moment to stare how at peace she looked, the way the sun had beamed on her hair giving that perfect auburn shine. The truth is she had got up early just to wait for you in your classroom.

——————

You cough and enter your classroom, lightly waking her up.

“Hey Y/N” She yawned.

“So you woke up bright and early to come trash on me, real dedicated.” you said sarcastically.

“Hon…” she whispered, “Do I make you mad?” she questioned blantly, as she was half asleep.

You looked dead at her for a good couple of seconds, wondering if she was playing some long term prank.

“Mad? No I enjoy someone criticizing each breath of mine, infact I love a constant reminder of how I can’t control twenty kids!” you scoff.

“Hon, I’m truly sorry. I genuinely didn’t think you even paid me mind.” she begins with, “How bout I make it up to ya?”

You stand frozen, was this even real? One day insulting the next day asking for forgiveness?

——————

REWIND TO YESTERDAY

“Melissa, you have got to stop pushing people away!” Barbara protested. “If you like her, you got to at-least be nice! You stay on that poor girl’s case.”

“I know Barb, it’s just that I dunno’ how to do these things, convey feelings and all that..” Melissa explained knowing she had never had feelings to even convey with her ex-Husband to begin with.

“Girl I’ve got to go, remember you can’t push away her if you like her!” Barbara explains while hanging up the phone.

—————— pt3 is gonna EAT (hopefully)

#melissa schemmenti x reader #abbott elementary #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti #wlw post #wlw

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jeridandridge · 5 days ago

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Melissa Schemmenti x reader media post

#melissa schemmenti #Melissa Schemmenti x reader #abbott elementary #lisa ann walter #media post #Melissa Schemmenti x you

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glorifiedagents · 6 days ago

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Good Grades — melissa schemmenti

MELISSA SMIRKED, popping the button of your pants, dragging the zipper down slowly. The second your cock sprang free, her eyes darkened, pupils blown wide as she wrapped her hand around your thick length.

“JESUS BABY,” she breathed, thumb swiping over the swollen tip, smearing the bead of pre-cum across the head. “You’re fuckin’ dripping for me.”

SUMMARY: melissa wants your attention on her PAIRING: melissa schemmenti & g!p fem!reader CAUTION: no plot, just smut: g!p fem!reader, swearing, blowjob/deepthroat, overstimulation, melissa masturbating, sub!dom!dynamics, riding your cock, degradation/praise, melissa begging, creampie, swallowing cum WORD COUNT: 2.6K

Papers were scattered across Melissa’s dining table, a half-empty glass of wine sitting next to her forgotten stack of assignments. You were actually trying to focus, pen in hand, but it was fucking impossible with Melissa sitting across from you, legs crossed, red nails tapping against her wine glass as she eyed you like a damn meal.

It started with her kicking off her heels, stretching her legs out under the table until her foot brushed against your thigh. You shot her a look, but she just smirked, like she knew exactly what she was doing.

"You're supposed to be grading," you muttered, eyes flicking back to the essay in front of you.

Melissa leaned forward, her curls spilling over her shoulder. "Yeah? And you're supposed to be paying attention to me."

Without breaking eye contact, she reached for the buttons of her blouse, slowly popping the first one open. Then the next. Your breath hitched as more of her smooth skin was revealed, the black lace of her bra barely containing her tits.

Your grip on the pen tightened.

“Melissa.” This time, it was a warning.

But she just laughed softly, standing up. “You can keep grading, sweetheart,” she murmured, slipping the blouse off her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. “I’ll just keep myself busy.”

Then she dropped to her knees in front of you.

Your chair scraped against the floor as she settled between your legs, her hands sliding up your thighs, nails dragging just enough to send a shiver up your spine.

"Been thinking about this all damn night," she murmured, palming the bulge in your pants, feeling how hard you already were for her.

"Fuck," you exhaled sharply, hips jerking slightly as she squeezed.

Melissa smirked, popping the button of your pants, dragging the zipper down slowly. The second your cock sprang free, her eyes darkened, pupils blown wide as she wrapped her hand around your thick length.

“Jesus, baby,” she breathed, thumb swiping over the swollen tip, smearing the bead of pre-cum across the head. “You’re fuckin’ dripping for me.”

"Quit teasing," you growled, tangling your fingers in her curls.

She giggled but obeyed, leaning in to press an open-mouthed kiss to the tip before sliding her tongue along the underside, dragging it down to the base. The sensation made your stomach tighten, your grip in her hair flexing as she sucked one of your balls into her mouth, rolling it with her tongue before giving the other the same treatment.

Your head hit the back of the chair. "Fucking hell."

She pulled back with a wet pop, smirking up at you before finally wrapping her lips around your cock and sinking down.

You groaned as she took you inch by inch, the heat of her mouth damn near unbearable. Her tongue flattened against the underside, working you as she bobbed her head, sucking you in deeper, cheeks hollowing with every pull.

"Shit, just like that," you gritted out, one hand fisting her hair while the other gripped the edge of the table.

Melissa moaned around you, the vibration shooting straight up your spine. She took you deeper, her throat constricting as your tip hit the back, making her gag slightly — but she didn’t stop. She wanted it.

Your abs tensed as she worked you over, spit dripping down her chin, making it messier, filthier. Her free hand slid between her legs, rubbing slow, lazy circles over her clit through her soaked panties.

"Look at you," you muttered, watching as she squirmed. "Touchin’ yourself while you choke on my cock."

She whimpered, thighs clenching.

You smirked. "Bet you wanna cum, huh?"

She nodded as best as she could with your cock stretching her mouth.

“Not yet,” you growled, tightening your grip in her hair as you started thrusting up into her throat.

Melissa choked, hands scrambling to grip your thighs as you set the pace, fucking her mouth like she was just there to take it. Her eyes fluttered, tears spilling down her cheeks, but she didn’t pull away. She just let you use her.

“Such a good little slut for me,” you groaned, watching as her mascara smudged, her lips swollen and wrecked. “Taking it all like you were fuckin’ made for it.”

She whined around you, fingers pressing harder against her clit, rubbing frantically as her hips bucked against nothing.

You could feel it building — your stomach tightening, pleasure coiling deep in your gut. Your cock twitched, your thrusts growing erratic, your grip in her hair keeping her right where you needed her.

"Fuck—I'm gonna—"

Melissa moaned eagerly, sucking harder, begging for it without words.

Your jaw clenched as you finally let go, hips jerking as you spilled down her throat. She swallowed every fucking drop, moaning as she kept sucking, milking every last bit from you until you were groaning from the overstimulation.

When you finally released her hair, she pulled back, gasping for breath, spit and cum dripping from her lips. She wiped her chin with the back of her hand, grinning up at you like the filthy fucking woman she was.

"Taste so fuckin’ good," she purred, licking her lips.

Your cock twitched at the sight, still half-hard, still ready for more.

Melissa sat back on her heels, her own hand still between her thighs, rubbing slow, teasing circles over her clit as she watched you recover.

"Can I cum now?" she asked, voice sweet, wrecked, desperate.

You smirked, leaning forward, grabbing her chin, tilting her head up. "Not on the floor."

Then you pulled her up, spun her around, and bent her over the damn table, papers scattering as you pressed against her ass.

"You wanna cum?" you growled against her ear, your hands sliding up her trembling thighs. "You're gonna do it with my cock inside you."

Her breath hitched, a shiver rolling down her spine.

"Fuck, baby," she whispered, gripping the edge of the table. "Don't hold back." She shivered, pressing back against you, ass grinding against your still-hard cock like she was desperate to be filled.

"Please," she breathed, her voice wrecked, needy.

"That desperate already?" You chuckled darkly, gripping the zipper at the back of her skirt and dragging it down. "Bet you're soaking, huh?"

She whimpered, shifting her weight, thighs squeezing together.

You yanked the skirt down her legs, tossing it aside before grabbing the waistband of her lace panties. The second you pulled them down, your smirk widened.

"Jesus, baby," you muttered, dragging a finger through her slick folds, spreading her wetness. "You're fucking drenched."

Melissa let out a shuddery breath, hips twitching as your fingers teased her clit. "Y-yeah," she gasped. "Needed you all night."

"Yeah?" You slid one finger inside her, groaning at how fucking tight she was. "Been sitting there, pretending to be patient, when all you really wanted was my cock splitting you open?"

She nodded frantically, rocking back onto your hand, fucking herself on your fingers.

"Such a needy little thing," you murmured, sliding in another finger, curling them against that sweet spot that made her legs tremble. "And you still don’t get to cum yet."

Melissa let out a choked whine, her walls clenching around your fingers. "Fuck," she whimpered, "I need you inside me, please -"

You pulled your fingers out, grabbing her by the back of the neck and pushing her down against the table.

"Then take it," you growled.

You lined yourself up, dragging the tip of your cock through her slick folds, teasing her entrance, letting her feel just how thick you were. She let out a desperate whimper, pushing back against you, trying to take you inside, but you held her in place, smirking.

"Look at you," you mused, watching her squirm. "So fucking desperate to be filled."

"Yes," she whined. "Fuck me pleaseeeee."

That was all you needed.

With one sharp thrust, you buried yourself inside her, stretching her open inch by inch.

"Jesus fuck," you groaned, gripping her hips hard enough to bruise as her walls clamped down around you, tight and wet and fucking perfect.

Melissa gasped, fingers gripping at the table as she struggled to adjust to your size. "Fucking hell," she panted, "so big —"

"Yeah?" You pulled back just enough to slam back in, grinning at the way her body jolted, a broken moan ripping from her throat. "That what you wanted, baby?"

"Yes," she sobbed, pushing back against you. "Use me.. fuck me—"

And fuck, you did.

You set a brutal pace, slamming into her over and over, your cock stretching her, filling her to the brim with every deep, rough thrust. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mixed with Melissa's breathy little whimpers and the filthy, wet noises coming from between her legs.

"Fuck, you feel so good," you groaned, gripping the back of her neck, pressing her harder against the table. "So fucking tight, taking me so well."

Melissa was gone, moaning incoherently, her body rocking with every thrust, her walls squeezing around you like she was trying to milk your cock.

"You were made for this, huh?" You reached around, rubbing messy, frantic circles over her swollen clit, feeling the way she tensed, her legs trembling. "Made to take my cock?"

"Yes," she gasped, her voice wrecked. "Yes, yes—fuck—"

Her whole body tensed, her walls clamping down around you, and then she screamed, legs shaking as she came, soaking your cock, grinding against you as she rode out the high.

"Jesus fuck," you groaned, feeling her squeeze you like a vice. "That’s it, baby — fuckin’ cum all over my cock."

She whimpered, still trembling, body twitching from the aftershocks, but you weren’t done.

"Still got one more load for you," you muttered, gripping her hips and slamming into her again. "Gonna fill you up, baby. Make sure you feel me dripping out of you all night."

Melissa let out a broken moan, her overstimulated pussy clenching around you. "Yesfuckyes—"

You felt it building, the pleasure coiling tight in your stomach, your thrusts getting faster, harder, sloppier.

"Shit... gonna cum!"

You slammed in one last time, burying yourself to the hilt as you spilled inside her, thick ropes of cum coating her walls.

Melissa moaned, arching her back as she felt it, her pussy squeezing around you, milking every last drop.

You stayed like that for a moment, panting, catching your breath, before slowly pulling out. Your cum leaked from her, dripping down her thighs, and fuck — that was a sight you’d never get tired of.

Melissa was still bent over the desk, panting, her thighs trembling, your cum leaking out of her in thick drips. She looked completely wrecked—hair a mess, mascara smudged, lips swollen from sucking you off earlier. “Holy fuck.” She murmured,

But when you reached down and spread her cheeks, watching another drop of your cum spill onto the floor, she let out a soft whimper and fucking clenched.

"Goddamn," you murmured, dragging your fingers through the mess between her legs. "Look at you. Still hungry for more?"

She whimpered, shifting against the desk, pressing her ass back toward you like she needed to be filled again.

"Fucked you stupid, huh?" you teased, sliding a finger back inside her, groaning at how wet she still was — soaked with her own slick and your cum.

"Mhm," she hummed, exhausted but still needy.

You smirked, sliding your hand up her back, grabbing a fistful of her hair, pulling her up until her back was flush against your chest.

"You ain't done yet, baby," you murmured against her ear. "You're gonna ride me."

She shuddered, gasping softly as you pulled her away from the table. Her legs were weak, shaking from how hard you'd fucked her, but she still turned in your arms, eyes dark and needy as she climbed into your lap, straddling you right there in the chair.

"You sure you can take it?" you taunted, gripping her ass, spreading her wide. "You were just begging for me to let you cum."

Melissa rolled her hips, dragging her soaked cunt along your still-hard cock, coating it in a fresh layer of slick. "Shut up," she murmured, pressing her lips to yours, kissing you dirty, sloppy, messy, desperate. "I'm taking every fucking inch."

You growled against her mouth, gripping her hips as she lifted herself, lining you up with her entrance.

Then she sank down.

Both of you groaned as you filled her up again, her tight walls stretching around you, clenching as she took you deep.

"Fucking hell," you gritted out, watching her struggle to take it all, her nails digging into your shoulders as she shuddered.

Melissa tossed her head back, her lips parting in a breathy moan as she started rolling her hips, grinding down onto you, taking you so deep it was like she needed you there.

"That's it, baby," you groaned, your hands sliding up her waist, grabbing her tits, squeezing. "Fucking ride me."

She whimpered, bracing herself against your shoulders, lifting herself up only to slam back down, gasping as your cock filled her completely.

"Fuck," she moaned, throwing her head back, moving faster, her tits bouncing with every movement. "Feels so good—"

You groaned, watching her, completely transfixed.

"You like that?" you murmured, running your tongue over your lips. "Like bouncing on my cock, fucking yourself stupid?"

She nodded frantically, nails raking down your chest as she rode you harder, her slick dripping down onto your thighs.

"You're such a filthy little thing," you growled, leaning in to suck one of her nipples into your mouth, biting down just enough to make her squeal.

"Yesfuckyes—" she sobbed, her hips moving frantically, chasing her next orgasm.

"Look at you," you muttered, grabbing a fistful of her ass, helping her move faster. "Fucking yourself on my cock like you're made for it."

"I am," she gasped, slamming down even harder, grinding against you. "Made to take your cock, fuck, I—I'm gonna—"

Her body tensed, her walls clamping down around you like a vice as she screamed, her orgasm crashing over her like a fucking wave.

But you weren’t done.

Before she could even recover, you gripped her hips tight and started thrusting up into her, fucking her through it, ignoring the way her body twitched from the overstimulation.

"Fuckfuck—" she sobbed, hands scrambling against your shoulders, nails digging in deep.

"You can take it," you growled, hips snapping up, hitting that spot inside her that had her wailing.

Her thighs shook, her whole body rocking as you held her down and fucked her, making sure she felt everything.

You felt it building, that sharp, white-hot pleasure curling in your gut, your cock twitching deep inside her.

"Gonna fill you up again," you groaned, thrusting harder, gripping the back of her neck, pulling her mouth to yours. "You want that, baby? Want me to cum so fucking deep you’ll be leaking for days?"

"Yes," she sobbed, her walls squeezing you, overstimulated but still desperate. "Cum inside me — fill me up please.."

That was all it took.

With a final, deep thrust, you buried yourself inside her and spilled, thick ropes of cum coating her walls, filling her to the brim.

Melissa moaned weakly, shuddering as she felt it, her body slumping against yours.

You held her close, both of you panting, sweating, completely wrecked.

After a long moment, she let out a breathless laugh, pressing a lazy kiss to your lips.

"Fuck," she murmured. "You really don't know how to quit, huh?"

You smirked, running your hands over her ass, squeezing. "Not when you're this fucking perfect."

She chuckled, resting her forehead against yours. "Think you can carry me to bed?" she asked, still trembling in your lap.

You grinned, tightening your arms around her. "Baby, I’ll fuck you there, too."

#melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti smut #melissa schemmenti imagine #melissa schemmenti fanfic #abbott elementary #abbott elementary smut #melissa schemmenti x you #lisa ann walter #lisa ann walter x reader #wlw post #sapphic #lesbian #wuh luh wuh #lesbianism #wlw ns/fw #wlw nsft #wlw #g!p reader

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schemmentigfs · 8 days ago

Text

Sweetening The Deal. (part 12.)

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

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

WC: 7.48k.

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

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

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

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

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

Just the raw connection of two souls together.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You lower the camera.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Melissa hums pleasantly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I won’t, baby,” she promises you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jesus, Melissa, you gonna do something about that?

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

What the hell happened to you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But she never told Joe.

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

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

But it wasn’t.

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

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

He never knew she was pregnant.

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

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

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

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

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

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

But there’s no one there to hear it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then she hears it.

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

“Lissa…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I… Can I photograph you?”

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

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

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

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

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

She blushes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Melissa Ann Catarina Schemmenti is art in its truest form.

Flawed. Naked. Unafraid.

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

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

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

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

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

“Anywhere?” you press your nose against hers.

“Mmm. Anywhere, beautiful.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then it happens.

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

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

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

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

She swallows hard.

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

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

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

She thinks about things she rarely lets herself think about.

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

But now.

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

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

Yours.

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

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

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

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

The older woman doesn’t answer right away.

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

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

“Yeah, she was.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Nonna.”

Nonna.

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

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

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

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

Family.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She imagines nighttime.

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

Your bed.

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

Your tiny Schemmenti.

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

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

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

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

Pearl. Again.

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

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

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

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

And suddenly, Melissa Schemmenti feels it.

All of it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She deserves this.

She deserves love.

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

To her.

Teresa Schemmenti.

Her mother. The woman who gave birth to her.

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

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

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

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

The dementia had taken so much.

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

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

Melissa closes her eyes for a moment, breathing deeply.

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

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

The words had knocked the breath out of her.

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

It never did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You feel a squeeze in your hand.

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

And just like that, the heaviness eases.

Not completely.

But enough.

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

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

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

“I wanna see her.”

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

“My mom.”

“Oh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You make it sound so simple.

And maybe, in a way, it is.

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

You smile. “Then we’ll go.”

Melissa looks back at you.

“We?” she echoes, arching an eyebrow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x y/n #melissa schemmenti #lisa ann walter #sweetening the deal series #abbott elementary #abbott elementary fanfiction #wlw #🫶🏻

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honeysorwell · 8 days ago

Text

all of it (all of you)

Pairing: Melissa Schemmenti x hairdresser!fem Reader

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

Link on AO3

Chapter 2

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

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

Words: 5,7k

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

Enjoy!

Fifteen people in the last twenty days.

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

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

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

But it quickly escalated into something more significant.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What will she say?

She has no idea.

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

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

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

“Of course you can, silly girl!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Something tells me yours is too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She could cook something for Y/N.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So tiramisu it is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Eggs, and then baking."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She really didn't deserve that.

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

A bad teacher.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

On Monday morning, Melissa gets up ready early.

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

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

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

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

Forgive me. I'm sorry.

Melissa wasn't sure.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It's not yours. So don't touch it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that, for now, is enough.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh. You. What do you want?”

#melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti imagine #melissa schemmenti x reader #abbott elementary fanfics #abbott elementary #lisa ann walter #lisa ann walter imagine #lisa ann walter x reader

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vicky-0933 · 9 days ago

Text

My Favorite Teacher

Ngl this was one of my favorite ones to write, but anyways this turns ina way but Enjoy.

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For over a decade, Melissa Schemmenti had been a pillar of wisdom and warmth at Abbot Elementary. Her students adored her, her colleagues respected her, as they were scared of her, (sometimes), but she was the one that was always there for her students more. When they were bullied, she was the one they would go to, if they need help with their disabilities, she was the one to be there and help. She had guided many through the trials of adolescence, though going through of some of her own. She loved her students but one caught her eye, Yn Ln.

Yn had been one of Melissa’s brightest pupils, a lover of books and deep discussions. After she moved one to other classes and she grew, she had always stayed to see her old teacher to debate the themes of love and longing in classic novels. Melissa had admired her sharp mind and boundless curiosity. When Yn graduated and left for high school and then college, Melissa had felt an inexplicable pang of loss, one she quickly buried beneath lesson plans and faculty meetings.

Years passed, and Melissa never expected to see Yn again, until one September morning, when Yn walk in the front of the school seeing her old school, the one she had always loved. “Oh hi you must be the teacher here” you see a short lady walk to you, “My name is Janine Teagues, I am a teacher her here, I teach second grade.” Janine introduced herself, taking out her hand an, “Oh hi I am Yn Ln, I was a student here, and now I am here to teach the third grade” you say, she gasp, “Really you use to go here thats something” she says surprised.

She talks about the school, and she walk with you to your classroom, “This is your classroom, and I am going to let you settle down in here, but I’m a bit I am going to come back and show you around a bit” Janine says as she leaves, you take in the room, as it remind you of the things you did in the class. As you are making plans on what to put inside your classroom, you hear multiple people walk in your room, “And this is Mrs. Yn Ln, she is our new teacher” you hear Janine say.

You turn to see a tall man, and a an other guy next to him, “Oh my god, I can’t believe we have a new teacher, Hi I am Jacob Hill, I am a history teacher here, I am so happy to meet you” Jacob says while walking up to you, grabbing your to shake it, “Oh um hi” you say surprised, “Jacob give her some space please, she just got here” you hear a voice say, “Hi I am Gregory Eddie, I am a first grade teacher here” Gregory says while he pulls Jacob away from you.

“Well hello to all of you, I am happy to meet you all” you say, after a little while, “oh and it’s Ms. Ln, I am not married” you say to Janine in a soft way, “Oh my god I am so sorry” she say to you, “oh it’s ok” you say chuckling a bit, “well anyways I am bit hungry, do you think you guys can take me to the lunch room” you say, and all agree and walk with you to teachers lounge.

As you all walk into the teachers’ lounge, you see a few more teacher but on sticks out, Mrs. Barbra Howard. “Omg Mrs. Howard, your still here” you say and she looks at you, “yes I am dear and who may you be” Barbra asks you, “oh right, I am Yn Ln I was in your class, I was the one who would reading and we talk about the book along with Mrs. Schemmenti, it’s ok if you don’t remember me” you say kinda shyly, hoping that she remembers you.

“Oh Yn, yes I do remember you, you little book worm, how have you been? I know it’s been a long time since you’ve been here, are you are new teacher for the third grade” Barbra ask you, and you nod, “yea I saw that Abbott needed a new teacher so I asked to go in and they put me here, and now I am very happy o be here” you say in excitement, you sit next to her and talk to her, she grabs your hand and smiles, you remember all the things you used to talk about from love books to personal experiences.

You guys were so into your conversation that you didn’t notice that another person came in and was looking you, “Umm excuse me, who are you and what are you doing in my seat” you hear someone say, you and Barbra stop your conversation and look at who it was, “Mrs. Schemmenti?” You say seeing her after so long, Melissa blinked, as if trying to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. “Yn?” She just looks at you, “Is that you” she asks, you stand up, she takes your hand, momentarily speechless.

“Wow kid, I thought I would never see you again and now your here” Melissa says putting her hands on your shoulders. “and it Ms. Schemmenti now, I am not married” Melissa says, “Oh right” you said rubbing your neck. “Oh let me move so you can sit down, Ms. Schemmenti, and then I will head out to starts getting ready for tomorrow” you say slowly walking out but then Melissa grabs your arm, and pulls you towards her, hugging you.

“Nonsense kid, stay here a bit, I know it’s been a while since we talked, I would like to catch up with you, and please call me Melissa now” Melissa says while rubbing your back, you melt into the hug, “Oh my god, I’ve never seen her like this before” you hear Jacob say, “Youse got a problem with it kid” Melissa says with a sharp tone, while rubbing your back. “Oh no, it’s just that your never like this with anyone, so I am surprised to see you all soft with someone” Jacob says as Melissa rubbing your back, she let’s go of you but keeps her arm on your waist to keep you close to her.

You blush and look away from her, “So, I’m not going soft for any of you, except Barbra” Melissa says. You snicker, and she looks at you, “I see you haven’t changed did ya, Melissa” you said in a teasing tone, and Melissa takes a gasp of breath, but she quickly hides it and pulls you down to sit next to her, and for the rest of the time she talks to you, she was going to ask you something until the bell rings. “Oh well, I will leave you guys to it, you guys have a wonderful day and I am glad that I got to see you again, Mrs. Howard and Melissa” you said.

You get up, grab you stuff and head for your classroom, and Melissa just watches you leave, she felt something she thought she would never feel in a long time, a bit of pain, something in her change and Barbra noticed it, but wanted to talk to her later. As both women walk to their classes Barbra pulls Melissa into her classroom, “Girl what was that? Huh are you falling for her? What’s going on” Barbra asks her. Melissa just nods her head, “I don’t know what is going on, but something is happening that I haven’t felt in a long time” Melissa squeaks out.

Melissa just stands there, not know what to do, she starts to cry but Barbra hugs her, “Hey it’s ok, don’t worry about it, but for now just get to know her, maybe she will come around.” Barbra says rubbing Melissa back and Melissa nods. For the rest of the day, Melissa found herself distracted, caught between memories of the brilliant student Yn, but now since she is here now, Melissa now has to do something but she doesn’t know if you are dating someone, well that wasn’t a topic that was brought up, then she realizes that the whole time, it was her talking then you were. Something that she never does.

Had been and the poised, confident woman she had become, it was strange, but also exhilarating. She had always thought what had happened to her favorite student, and now that she is back, she started to fall of for the younger girl, but was scared about the younger felt about her. Thinking about the worst, she started over thinking about how to get her to talk to you, how to get to know you, are you even gay? She couldn’t stop overthinking. Over the weeks, their friendship rekindled, they shared lesson plans, stayed late discussing literature.

And found themselves laughing over coffee after school, always going over to Melissa’s house but never yours. Yn, now an equal rather than a student, challenged Melissa in ways few ever had. There was an energy between them an unspoken tension neither acknowledged but both felt one evening, as they graded essays together in Melissa’s classroom, Yn set her pen down and looked at Melissa, her expression hesitant.

“You ever think about how life brings people back together?” she asked softly. Melissa’s heart thudded. “Sometimes,” she admitted. Yn leaned in slightly. “You know, even as a kid, I knew that I wanted to marry a women, but like a strong, red head, that didn’t take shit from anyone.“ You confessed, laughing lightly to mask her nervousness, this kinda caught Melissa off guard, but she doesnt say anything.

Melissa’s breath caught, “I know, it’s silly” You whispered, not expecting Melissa to answer you, “I always wondered why I liked being around you as a kid, but then I left to high school and then I always expected you to be there, but never saw you, and I always dreamed about you” you say nervously. Melissa doesn’t say anything but just look at you, and you’re just staring at your paper, not wanting to see her. “But now…” you exhaled. “We’re both adults. We’re colleagues. And I can’t pretend I don’t feel something when I’m around you.”

Melissa stared at her, feeling a dozen emotions at once, surprise, fear, and, above all, the undeniable pull of everything she had tried to ignore. Slowly, she reached for Yn’s hand. “Neither can I,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. Melissa grabs your face, traces her thumb across your lips, leaning in, your lips meeting hers. The kiss is soft, slow, you move up to sit on her lap, which surprised her, but she puts her hands your hips, bring you closer.

This was like you never wanted it to end, it felt rushed a bit, but after a few minutes of making out, you pull away making Melissa whine, “Let’s go back to my place, let’s continue this there, yea?” You tell her, but all Melissa does is nod, you get off her grab your stuff, “I’ll text you my address” you say winking and walking away, Melissa just sits there, her brain not working, she finally snaps out of it and gets up, grabs her stuff, and walks out her class room.

She jogs over to her car, opens the door, and quickly turns on the car to head over to your house, as she is driving a notification pops up, and it’s you texting her the address, she quickly drives over there. As she pulls up, she quickly realizes something, what if you are doing this for fun? What if you guys won’t talk anymore? She has so many questions, she is in the car for so long, that you get worried, suddenly she gets a message on her phone, ~Hey Mel, are you ok? We don’t have to do this if that’s ok~ and it’s from you.

She sighs, turns off her car and walk up to your house, as she was about to knock, suddenly you open the door, looking at her a love and worry in your eyes. “Hey Mel, you ok, if you want we can just eat together and talk on the couch” you say bringing your hand to hers and she nods, as she is walking inside. You walk to the kitchen and she follows you, and she sits down on a chair as you starts to make the food. “Hey umm do you want me to help you” Melissa asks you nervously.

“If you want to help me you can, but you don’t have to do it” you say but she gets up and walks over to you to help out. As she is helping you cook, you look at her and she looks like something is going on, “hey Mel, everything ok” you ask her and she stops what she is doing, she sighs, “are you sure to want to be with me” Melissa asks you, “What?” You say, a bit shocked but wondering where this came from, “hun are you sure you want to be with me, I mean the kiss, did it mean anything to you” Melissa says in worried tone, almost crying.

“So that’s what this is about, your worried about me, liking you. Melissa, I love you, I even told you in your classroom, your everything I wanted, the kiss, it is the best thing that has ever happened to me, it meant everything to me” you say, also almost crying, trying your best to keep calm but the soon the tears start to fall, and you can’t stop. “I am sorry if I made you feel this way” saying while wiping your tears, looking down you can’t look Melissa in the eyes.

Suddenly you feel hands on your cheeks, making you look up to see Melissa also crying, “Oh sweetheart” Melissa says bringing you into a hug, you both cry for a bit, you hug her back, bring her closer like as if she is going to leave somewhere. You feel Melissa run her hands in your hair, you let go her but she keeps you near her, “Yn, ever since you came back, something grew inside me, something that I haven’t felt in a long time, and now that I am with you now, I never want this feeling to go away” Melissa whispers, getting close to your lips.

“I love you Melissa, I always been, please don’t let those thoughts get to you” you whisper back, leaning in to catching her lips. The kiss this time is soft yet determined, like if this is the last you kiss, it’s something you want to remember forever. This time, it wasn’t rushed, it was slow, like you still had a lot of time for each other, your hands to go her hips bring her closer to you, you wanted to feel her while you kissed. Melissa pulls away, this time making whine a bit, she chuckles, “it’s ok baby” she giggles out.

You both stare at each other, the light shines around her making her look like a saint, her red hair shining, her being a little taller then you, the way her green eyes look at you, the way they changes color. “God your beautiful” you say out loud, which surprised her, “Oh thank you hun” she says blushing. “Let’s finish the food, then maybe we can cuddle on couch, if you want to” you ask shyly, Melissa nods and the both of you make the food and head to the couch and eat. As your sitting down and eating, Melissa sets down her plate, as she is finished, and just plays with your hair.

You also finished, set your plate down, and lean into her, letting her continue, as the show is going on, Melissa can’t help but look over to you, the way the tv shines on your face. Then she starts thinking a life with you, how to guys would spend the rest of your life together, you feel someone looking at you, and turn to see Melissa, but she doesn’t do anything, you put your hand on her cheek and she snaps out of the thoughts, “hey baby, what’s in that pretty mind of yours” you ask her.

“Just thinking you understand me, and how I want to spend the rest of my life with you” Melissa responds, you giggle, giving her her a kiss, Melissa smiles into it. Then you starts to tickle her, she laughs trying to make you stop, “Please baby, please stop” she tries to say but eventually you stop, and you just hover over her, you both just looking at each other. As Melissa is trying to catch her breath, you whisper “god you look like a goddess”. She blushes, looking away, “God hun you gotta stop with the compliments, you’re making a blushing mess over here” Melissa says trying not to stutter.

“As long you know that you are beautiful, I will never stop giving the best compliments ever” you say giving her an other kiss.

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Hehe I hope you enjoy, I will do an other poll later today for what story to come up next, Hope you guys liked it. 🥲

#melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti imagine #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary #barbara howard #lisa ann walter #lisa ann walter fanfic

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ju-berry · 11 days ago

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FANFICTION Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Fly, Eagles, Fly

The scent of pizza and beer filled the air as Melissa Schemmenti’s house was packed with friends and family, all gathered to watch the Super Bowl. You, Abbott Elementary’s new Brazilian teacher, were the only one who didn’t fully understand American football, but honestly? That didn’t matter.

Your focus was elsewhere.

Or rather, on someone.

Melissa.

The redhead sat on the couch, wearing a vintage Eagles jersey, her hair down, her expression fierce and determined as she watched the game. You had gotten used to her passionate nature in everyday life, but seeing her like this—so completely immersed—was a new, mesmerizing experience.

Ever since you started this secret relationship, moments like these were your favorite. Small windows where you could exchange subtle touches, lingering glances, and teasing smiles without raising suspicion.

And tonight would be no different.

You adjusted yourself on the couch, sitting beside her, your leg brushing against hers. Melissa didn’t take her eyes off the screen, but a small smirk tugged at the corner of her lips.

— “Having fun, Brazilian?” she asked, still focused on the game.

— “More than I expected,” you replied with a grin.

She chuckled, taking a sip of her beer.

— “Bet it’s more because of me than the game.”

You didn’t confirm, but you didn’t deny it either.

As the game went on, Melissa became more and more invested. Every time the Eagles made a play, she gestured, cursed, and cheered. Sometimes, she’d clutch her own face, looking ready to have a breakdown right there.

At one point, you decided to tease her. Leaning in close, you whispered into her ear:

— “You look really sexy when you’re this into it.”

She turned to you for a brief second, green eyes flickering between amusement and something deeper.

— “Don’t distract me now, babe, or I’ll kick you out,” she joked, though the twitch of her lips betrayed her smile.

— “Oh, really?” you challenged, letting your hand rest lightly on her thigh.

She swallowed, but quickly refocused on the game. You bit your lip to keep from laughing. In the end, her love for the Eagles truly outweighed any distraction.

The Final Play

The game was in its final moments, and the Eagles were just inches away from victory. The tension in the room was suffocating, everyone completely glued to the screen. Melissa was at the edge of the couch, nails digging into her knee.

Even without understanding all the rules, you could feel how much this moment meant.

And then it happened.

The whistle blew. The game was over.

The Philadelphia Eagles were Super Bowl champions.

For a second, there was silence.

Then the entire house erupted.

Melissa jumped up from the couch, arms in the air, practically glowing with excitement.

— “OH MY GOD, YES!” she screamed, spinning in place, her face lit up with pure joy.

You smiled, ready to celebrate discreetly, but before you could react, Melissa turned, and without a second thought, ran straight to you, pulling you into a tight hug.

You barely had time to process it before her arms wrapped around you, her body warm and pressed against yours.

— “You’re my lucky charm, you know that?” Melissa murmured against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. — “Now every Eagles game, we’re watching together.”

Your heart pounded at the unexpected confession.

— “So, does this mean I’m officially part of the Schemmenti family tradition?” you teased, trying to mask how much those words meant to you.

— “Oh, sweetheart, you’ve been part of it for a while,” Melissa replied before capturing your lips in a quick kiss.

It was brief, stolen in the middle of all the chaos, but it still made your stomach flip.

You only pulled apart when someone shouted:

— “HEY! You two, come celebrate with us!”

Melissa laughed and grabbed your hand, intertwining her fingers with yours, no longer caring about hiding anything.

In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the curious looks, not the fact that your relationship had been a secret until now.

What mattered was that you were here, together, celebrating.

And that you would never miss an Eagles game again.

#abbott elementary #lisa ann walter #melissa schemmenti x reader #philadelphia eagles #eagles #middle aged women

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anotherworldawaitsus · 2 days ago

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Happy Endings

Summary: When Melissa books your massage services, you both get more than you bargained for.

Chapter: 2/3

Warnings: Smut with feelings, age difference, soft Melissa, fem reader

Chapter 2

You patted the table before turning away to give her some privacy. “Take the robe off and lie down on your stomach, then drape the sheet over you.”

In the window, you followed the blurry fragments of her reflection — a wave of red hair, an expanse of snowy skin, the hourglass curve of her hips. Then she slipped beneath the sheet.

“All ready,” she said. You turned back around, reaching into your bag and extracting a small bottle.

“So, how long ya been doin’ this?” Melissa asked.

You poured a blend of apricot and almond oil into your hands, rubbing them together to create friction and heat.

“About 10 years,” you said. A sweet, nutty smell perfumed the air.

She squirmed as you pulled the sheet down, revealing her upper back. Her shoulders were dusted with freckles.

“So I’m in good hands?” she asked.

Her tone was languid, sexy. You swept her hair to the side, grinning as goosebumps erupted along the nape of her neck. Her breathing hitched.

“The best,” you answered.

Melissa hummed as you hooked your thumbs into her trapezius muscles and moved outward in long sweeping motions.

“I’m stimulating blood flow to the area,” you explained. “Warming you up, so we can work on any tension.”

“You’ll find plenty of that,” she rumbled. “I ain’t too good at relaxin’.”

The admission tugged at your heart. Melissa was clearly wound tight, a worrier weighed down by how much she cared.

“You have a hard job,” you said sympathetically. “Lots of responsibility. It’s important to take care of yourself.”

She made a vague noise of agreement as you gently agitated the tissue throughout her upper back, feeling it beginning to soften beneath your fingertips, becoming more pliant in your hands.

“How’s that feel?”

“S’good,” Melissa slurred, groaning in pleasure as you dug into a particularly stiff spot near her neck. You were used to clients being vocal during treatment. But something about eliciting these noises from Melissa made your brain go staticky.

“Would you be ok with a bit more pressure? You’re pretty tight, I want to work on that.”

Melissa shivered at your words, at the honey-sweet tone of your voice, at the way you asked permission and waited until she gave it. Maybe it was wrong getting off on that, but something about the power dynamic was winding her up. She felt in control and out of control at the same time.

“I’m a big girl,” she husked, lost in the fog of pure sensation. “I can take it.”

Her eyes widened and she bit her lip, wondering if she was crossing the line with all this semi-dirty talk. This was your job, after all. A hot thing like you probably had to deal with plenty of creeps in this line of work. But then you laughed.

“That’s what I like to hear,” you purred, palpating your fingers carefully into a tender spot. Your touch triggered a tingling sensation on Melissa’s scalp and her eyes rolled back in her head. Her body was molten in your hands, pleasure rippling outward in lazy waves.

“Jesus Christ,” she groaned, both at the feeling and the silky tone of your voice as you explained what you were doing. You lightly caressed the base of her skull and danced your fingers upward, playing with her hair.

“So pretty,” you murmured, twisting a strand around your finger.

“Ya like redheads, hon?” she asked, teasing and low.

Heat rushed to your face and pooled low in your stomach. An aching arousal pulsed through you, knowing she was toying with you.

��Big fan,” you managed to say, hoping your voice sounded normal. Melissa laughed and the sound threatened to short-circuit your brain.

Giving your head a little shake, you continued working your way down her back. You lowered the sheet until the top curve of her ass was exposed, plump and pearly. You briefly wondered what it would look like adorned with the red outline of a bite mark.

“I’m going to work on your lower back now,” you explained. “I’ll start soft, but you let me know if it’s too much.”

“Maybe we should have a safe word,” she joked breathlessly, but you could tell there was some apprehension in her voice as you engaged the sensitive tissue, like she was braced for pain. You gently gripped her hips, kneading the outer muscles with your thumbs.

Melissa closed her eyes, zoning out a little and letting her mind wander. She hated to admit it, but Barb had been right. This was beyond relaxing. She felt like she was floating, like your hands were the only thing tethering her to the earth. Those hands. So strong, so warm. She could think of a few other uses for hands like that…

Had you ever crossed the line with one of your clients? Gone the extra mile to make them feel good, to give them what they needed? The thought sent a thrill of desire through her and she squirmed on the table. What would happen if your hands dipped between her legs and found a mess of wetness there? Would you be able to resist pulling her ruined underwear aside, sliding your fingers in? Gentle at first, then hard enough to make her arch her back, to leave bruises—

“How’s that?” you asked, and the sweetness in your voice went right through Melissa’s chest. She nodded, lost in the punch-drunk pleasure.

“Words, please?” you asked, vigilant for any sign of discomfort or pain.

“Good,” she breathed, an agonizing warmth spreading through her belly as your knuckles brushed against her ass.. “You can go…deeper.”

The implication hung in the air.

You returned your attention to the tender spot, continuing the diligent work of uncoiling her tension. Slowly, you felt each tightly bound muscle group giving way. Melissa slackened in your grip, her soft figure yielding, turning even more supple. Her breathing deepened. Every so often, she gasped, as a new dimension of bliss ricocheted through her body.

For several minutes, you got a little lost in the hypnotic pattern of rubbing, soothing, tapping, kneading. Suddenly, you heard a sniffle. Looking up, you noticed tears had gathered in the corners of her eyes. Swearing softly, you immediately paused.

“Melissa?”

“Don’t stop,” she croaked. “Please.”

“Talk to me,” you insisted.

“I don’t know why I’m cryin’,” she said with a wet laugh. “It don’t hurt, it feels incredible.”

You ghosted your fingertips over her skin, and she shivered, a feverish warmth blooming wherever you touched her.

“Our muscles trap emotion,” you said gently. “Massage can…release that.”

Melissa didn’t say anything for a moment, processing your words. It had been a long time since someone touched her like this. In fact, maybe no one had ever been so careful with her, so tender, so singular in their pursuit of her pleasure.

“You’re takin’ such good care of me,” she whispered jaggedly, eyes fluttering shut as her entire world shrank to the feeling of your hands on her body. “Makin’ me feel so good.”

Her praise unspooled your last bit of resolve. You rocked back on your heels, staggered by a pulse of desire for this bombshell of a woman laid bare on your table, blissed-out, body slack, expression sweet and unguarded. You wanted to give her exactly what she needed.

“You work hard,” you continued, sensing she was close to the edge of a powerful release. “You don’t always have to be so strong, or hold on so tight.”

“Yeah?” Her voice was uncertain, hopeful, like she was asking permission.

“It’s okay to let go,” you breathed. “I promise I’ve got you.”

Your hands resumed their work, rubbing soothing circles into her back. “You deserve to feel good.”

Melissa groaned at the assertion. The desperate sincerity in your voice did something to her. She squeezed her thighs together, trying to relieve the building pressure there. You noticed the shift, the way she wriggled her hips helplessly.

“Tell me again,” she said.

“You, Melissa Schemmenti, deserve to feel so good,” you repeated, emphasizing the last two words so there could be no mistaking your meaning.

She whimpered as your hands dipped lower, skating over her hips and the pillowy curve of her ass cheeks. A breathy little whine slipped out of Melissa’s mouth, surprising you both. You paused, just long enough to collect yourself, then pulled the sheet into a different position. You lightly traced your fingertips along the milky skin of her inner thigh, impossibly soft, running up toward her center and then back down in a teasing pattern, gauging her reaction.

“Tight hamstrings can actually impact lower back pain,” you babbled, kneading the muscles in question, though the pretense of professionalism was all but gone. Your eyes glazed over a little as Melissa bucked her hips against the massage table again.

“Ticklish,” she choked out, voice tight.

The redhead was simultaneously relieved and disappointed that she’d left her underwear on. The black lacy hiphuggers preserved her dignity, concealing the embarrassing slick dripping between her legs. But they also prevented your fingers from reaching their delicious final destination. She felt painfully empty, walls clenching around nothing.

“Tell me what you need,” you said dazedly, though you seemed incapable of stopping your hands as they traveled back up the same soft, irresistible path.

“You,” she said, practically begging. “There.”

When you reached the apex of her thighs for the second time, you swiped one trembling finger over the crotch of her panties, feeling the hot damp arousal that had soaked through the fabric. Melissa moaned at your featherlight touch, at the torturous heat it ignited.

You were both teetering on the brink, had almost fallen right over the edge. Your entire world had narrowed to the sounds Melissa made when you touched her, and the need to keep eliciting those sounds from her perfect mouth.

But then there was a sharp knock at the front door and the spell shattered.

You yanked your hands away. Melissa twisted around and gripped the sheet, pulling it against her body. The knock sounded again.

“Should I—?” you asked, gesturing uncertainly toward the door.

Melissa watched you walk into the hallway and peek outside. You cracked the door open, spoke for a few moments in low tones, then reappeared holding a flyer.

“Some teenagers canvassing for the election,” you said, waving the paper. “Wanted to make sure you’re registered to vote.”

Melissa sat on the sofa, sheet wrapped around her like a toga, hair mussed and cheeks flushed. She rolled her eyes.

“Those little bastards got some timing.”

“Yeah,” you said, running a hand through your hair in disbelief. “Listen, about that—about what happened—“

“You mean my happy ending?”

You winced at the cliché. “I’ve never done that before, I swear.”

“Well technically speaking,” she said, biting her lip, looking up at you with those eyes. “Ya still haven’t.”

Melissa leaned back on the couch, all suggestive looks and seductive curves. She parted her legs slightly and the electric tension surged back into the room, so strong you struggled to get a breath. You placed a hand on the wall to steady yourself.

“Technically speaking,” you repeated faintly.

“So where does that leave us, doll?” She examined her fingernails, feigning disinterest, relishing the slack look of desire on your face. “I feel like we were on the verge of a real breakthrough,”

You checked your watch, devastated to see how late it had gotten. “I have another appointment across town,” you whined.

“Relax, Midas,” she said, grinning like a jackal at your obvious desperation. “I’ll take a rain check. You free next weekend?”

The thought of leaving without touching her again made you feel crazy but you nodded. “I’ll —I’ll give you my personal number,” you said. “So you can call or text me directly, whenever you’re ready.”

“Eager to please,” she said, smirking. “I like that.”

You clenched your teeth. This was going to be the longest week of your life.

#melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary

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morgana-larkin · 2 days ago

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Melissa Schemmenti - Series

Smut *

Worth It - Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6* Part 7* Part 8* Part 9* Part 10* Part 11* Part 12* Part 13* Part 14*

Caught On Camera - Part 1 Part 2

Want You Back - Original* Alternate Ending*

Green Isn't Your Colour - Part 1 Part 2

Mine - Part 1* Part 2 Part 3 Part 4* Part 5* Part 6* Part 7* Part 8* Part 9* Part 10*

Blood As Green As Her Eyes - Part 1* Part 2*

The Vendor, The Teacher and The Roses - Part 1 Part 2 Alt End*

Don't Call Me That - Part 1 Part 2*

Calling 911 - Part 1 Part 2*

Wanna Kiss The Teacher - Part 1* Part 2*

You Got A Friend In Me - Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Mommy Dearest - Part 1 Part 2*

Just Tired - Part 1* Part 2 Part 3* Part 4 Part 5* Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12*

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x oc #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti #x reader #fanfic #lisa ann walter #law #abbott elementary

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ankhsta · 2 days ago

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Rookie Pt. 1

hii so this is my first fic ever !!! <- that being said not edited at all please critique me heavily!! in melissa schemmenti we trust !

wc.. (yes)

summary: Your a new Abbott teacher who hates Melissa with all your gut's, or do you… 🤫 part 2: https://www.tumblr.com/ankhsta/775975418783252480/rookie-pt-2?source=share

There she was. There she fuckin’ was. Roaming around the teachers lounge like she owned the place. Melissa Schemmenti.

——————

Since the first day you stepped foot at Abbott from a part-time sub, to a full-time chaos manager, in other words a teacher, she had been on your ass. There was always a witty remark waiting to escape her mouth whenever you stepped foot into the same space. That fiery Italian had something so deep against you. You often ignored her, yet you didn’t notice you began to start avoiding her.

——————

You were already going through enough of a tough day, ready to go home, yet you hear her voice outside the teacher’s lounge. You honestly don’t feel like hearing how shitty of teacher you are, so you promise you’re gonna grab what you needed, just your lunch tin then and head right out the lounge for home, full on ignore her, yet in the back of your head you know that’s impossible.

——————

“Look who finally decided to come out her cave?” Melissa grinned almost like she wanted a response.

“Now you know Y/N, the classroom isn’t the only room round here?” she scoffed, proceeding to turn to Barbara and call you a Rookie.

——————

“Cut the shit Schemmenti! I’ve been here for the past six damn months!” you firmly state holding back tears you bolt out the room.

You didn’t realize why it got to you, but damn she knew how to add the icing to the cake.

——————

Melissa was stunned, she didn’t realize you paid any mind to her comments, but seeing you like that? Her heart dropped.

Thankfully the lounge just consisted of the crew, so no big gossip was gonna haunt you the next day. Melissa sprinted in your direction, only to realize the clock was about to strike three, so this was tomorrow’s issue, at-least thats what Melissa told herself.

——————

“Jacob!” Melissa called, “You got Y/N’s number right?”

“Yea, why you need to apologize to your girlfriend?” He teased.

——————

Everyone around read Melissa’s body language around you, how’d she reapply her lipgloss, toss her hair, tug down her shirt on special occasions. Yet she never knew how to just convey feelings, or flirt of any sort. Everyone from her past had always made the move, she was awkward at times.

——————

After successfully getting Y/N’s number from Jacob, she wondered what should she do with it…

Text you?

(xxx-xxx-xxxx): Hey…

to be continued.

#abbott elementary #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schementi x y/n

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jeridandridge · 8 days ago

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Melissa Schemmenti x reader valentines media post 🩷

#Melissa Schemmenti x reader #abbott elementary #lisa ann walter #Melissa Schemmenti #media post

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msschemmenti · 15 days ago

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the bravo forum

melissa schemmenti x reader

a/n: the people have spoken— here is my contribution to the melissa schemmenti x reader community based on a crack idea from my notes app. bare with me, this is not edited and probably pretty bad-- but fuck it we ball ig. i also couldn't think of a name for this like at all. my tiktok fyp sort of throttled me into all things reality tv and that sparked this idea. also if you liked this feel free to check out my lisa ann walter masterlist for some of my older stuff.

”So now no one knows if they’re coming back or if they’re gonna pull a New York Housewives and just start over.” Melissa huffed over her shoulder to Barbara.

“Girlfriend, I told you, I don’t know these people, and I don’t care.”

Melissa watched as Barb entered the school ahead of her and shook her head. She really shouldn’t be surprised. Her work wife had always been very clear about her feelings when it came to the Housewives. And Melissa had tried to get her hooked. They’d tried every franchise and all she got from Barb was a disgruntled scolding for caring so much about these random women and their woes. Melissa can even recall Barbara advising her to pick up the Bible if she wanted to follow the trials and tribulations of someone she would talk about.

Melissa wasn’t normally someone who participated in any discussions about the things she enjoyed. She liked what she liked and anyone who didn’t agree with her could kick rocks. But letting Jacob move in had really changed the way she consumed media. She and the history teacher would come home from work, crack open a bottle, and go to town judging the various players in their programs. With him around, discussion became the norm. And now that he’s moved out, she’s sorta missing that community. Not that she’d admit it to anyone.

She bound into the teacher’s lounge, putting her lunch away and settling in her seat for the news like she did every morning. Jim Gardner was the only man she wanted to start her morning with. Midway through the program, excited voices floated through the swinging door.

“I’m telling you— they’re married. She won’t say anything but there’s no way they’re just girlfriends.” Both veteran teachers turned their heads at the newcomers with frowns in place. Y/n, the newest edition to the Abbott staff, winced almost instantly under both Barbara and Melissa’s gaze and quickly mimed a zipper over her lips. Barb smiled gratefully and turned back to the television, but Melissa’s eyes lingered a bit longer as they always seemed to do when the younger woman entered the room. And hard as she tried to keep her glare in place— once the teacher went back to her conversation quietly the frown melted into something softer. Almost curious.

Y/n Y/ln was something of a hot-button topic for Melissa. She’d started at the beginning of the school year, taking on the higher-grade English duties upstairs. And everyone seemed to love her. She’d flown in the week before classes started with a bright smile and brownies for the teachers. She’d spent her first month covering recesses and lunch duties for absolutely anyone who asked. And had even worked her way into some after-school clubs. She was everywhere. And after five months at Abbott, she still carried herself with the same level of joy and excitement she’d started with. It was infuriating if you asked Melissa. And Barb had asked her before. It seemed the reasons everyone else gravitated toward the new teacher were the exact reasons Melissa claimed made her dislike her. She was a kiss-ass, a pushover, and far too happy in the morning to not be doing some kind of drug. But every time Barb grilled her about it she never mentioned how distractingly shiny her hair was. Or how expressive her eyes were when she spoke about literally anything. And she all but refused to even think about how her eyes seemed almost glued to her figure whenever they passed each other in the hall during the day. She just couldn’t allow it. And she definitely wasn’t watching this morning as Y/n filled her cup of coffee and then exited the lounge with another teacher to continue her conversation.

Once she’d left the room, Melissa’s attention turned back to the television as if nothing happened. But there was Barbara, lips pursed knowingly and eyebrows set in a challenge.

“What?” Melissa asked, fighting the blush wanting to crawl up her neck. All Barb gave her in response was a pointed hum that told Melissa all she needed to know. She wasn’t fooling anybody.

“I can’t believe this is how you spend your free time. Here I was thinking you were reading Shakespearean Sonnets from three to eight when you actually just cyberbully Housewife fans.” Jacob laughed in disbelief as he leaned against the corner of Y/n’s desk.

“Okay first of all— Eileen Davidson’s delivery of ‘How dare you?’ after being called a Beast by Kim Richards was very Shakespearean. And secondly, cyberbully is a very strong word. I’m simply engaging in dialogue with my fellow Real Housewives fans. It’s not my fault I’m good at reasoning and evidence. Argumentation was my jam in college.” Y/n explained with a smile.

“So you’re saying you use your intelligence to cyberbully gay men and old ladies.”

“How rude, the Bravo-verse is not just for gay men and old ladies. It’s for everyone. I don’t discriminate on the forums— I’m an equal opportunity bully.”

“Huh, who knew there was such a sinister side to such a sweet woman.”

Y/n shrugged, “I’m multi-dimensional. Anyway, I brought all this up to run my lesson idea by you. We’re doing a unit on dialogue and I really think with some appropriately placed censors we can make it work.”

“Oh, That’s so engaging! And with so many franchises you can pull from quite a few scenes.” Jacob affirmed excitedly.

“Exactly. And it gives me an excuse to talk about my favorite show on the job.”

Lunch time came and the teachers found themselves in the lounge chatting idly at their assigned tables. Melissa’s glasses were perched on her nose as she scrolled through an article recounting the last episode. Jacob having leaned back in his chair, caught sight of the headline and instantly brightened.

“Oh Mel Mel, have I got an opportunity for community for you!”

Melissa slowly looked at the young man, unimpressed, “No thanks, I got more than enough community already.”

Jacob sighed at the woman’s lack of enthusiasm but trudged on, sure this opportunity would be up her alley. “Well, I just thought you’d take to the idea of arguing with people anonymously about the Real Housewives. There’s apparently a whole world of people discussing your programs online and from what I’ve heard they need some strong opinions to balance out the nonsense. I just think it might be nice for you to have a space to freely share your questionable takes about these extremely vapid women every week. A community is waiting for you.”

“Questionable takes? All of my takes are gold like my hatred for Eileen Davidson. That’s a very valid and based take. I’m always right. I don’t need no internet dummies telling me otherwise.”

“Well, when you realize I’m right and you start bullying randos online– I’ll be expecting a thank you.”

Melissa scoffed and watched as Jacob wrote the website down on a sticky note for her. “Huh, I’m sure you will be.”

She really wasn’t planning on looking at the website. She had no reason to. She was completely content to live with her Housewives thoughts. But then the Real Housewives of New York reboot episode was absolutely insane. And she needed to know if she was the only one in complete disbelief at this Puerto Rico trip. She pulled the sticky note from her purse and cautiously typed it in. She would only look at what was being discussed. Just a little peek.

MisterBravo: Am I the only one who HATES Meredith and Heather this season? #RHOSLC

4:00 PM in Real Housewives Board

↳20 Replies to this post

MeredithApologist: YES! YOU ARE.

HeathersReciepts: how can you hate the woman who brought us receipts, proof, timelines, screenshots?

Melissa chuckled quietly to herself as she read through the comments on the post. She hated to give Jacob any credit but this might actually be interesting. She continued to scroll until she found a recent post addressing the latest episode of RHONY.

Bravoholic: Deciding to play devil’s advocate tonight after tonight’s most recent episode. What are our thoughts on the RHONY reboot cast so far?

11:00 PM in Real Housewives Board

↳250 Replies to this post

She tapped into the replies and started skimming reactions. Lots of which she thought were stupid but not stupid enough to warrant a response of some kind. That was until she came across a crazy reply.

RepudiatedHousewives: Honestly, the trips just started and Brynn is already acting insane. Talk about a producer plant, am I right?

Now Melissa wasn’t a fan of Brynn but she also was smart enough to acknowledge Erin as a problem as well. Brynn didn’t stir things up all on her own. And also what kind of username is RepudiatedHousewives? Talk about pretentiousness. She couldn’t resist. She just had to respond.

RedHotPhilly11: repudiatedhousewives , you must be as pretentious and stupid as your username if you think Brynn is the only one producing this season. Erin is right there?

Y/n sat up immediately seeing the new reply flash across her screen. Pretentious and stupid? What the hell was this person’s beef? Brynn is a problematic producer plant, that’s just facts. So what if Erin gets wrapped up in her bullshit– she’s still better than Brynn.

RepudiatedHousewives: RedHotPhilly11– i’m assuming you’ve got your looks going for you if you’re pulling Erin into Brynn’s evil. Erin’s not perfect but Brynn is obviously the bigger issue here.

RedHotPhilly11: Yes, I’m hot. But that’s all you’re right about.

The forum shortly became Melissa’s most visited website. And she and this RepudiatedHousewives character loved going at it.

RHOAAddict: Rumor has it Phaedra Parks will be returning this season…thoughts on cast dynamics?

8:00 AM in Real Housewives Board

↳100 Replies to this post

RedHotPhilly11: Good! She’s kept Atlanta fun!

↳ RepudiatedHousewives: Incorrect– Bravo needs to make up with NeNe is they think they can save RHOA. Phaedra is actually a lawsuit waiting to happen. And she’d know, as a lawyer.

↳ RedHotPhilly11: Of course, you have so much to say.

↳ RepudiatedHousewives: Careful RedHotPhilly11, if you keep this up I’ll start thinkin you like me

RHONYLover: Calling all historians, Who’s the biggest villain in RHONY History?

10:00 PM in Real Housewives Board

↳100 Replies to this post

RedHotPhilly11: Aviva Drescher. Only right answer.

↳ RepudiatedHousewives: Wrong. It’s Brynn Whitfield.

↳ RedHotPhilly11: What are you, captain of the Brynn hate club?

↳ RepudiatedHousewives: Hell yeah! She won’t win in my lifetime.

↳ RedHotPhilly11: I feel like I have to admire your persistence but that feels to nice.

The morning after the finale episode of the season was a doozy. Both Melissa and Y/n had spent the evening going back and forth on the forum dissecting the drama that unfolded on screen. Other users had tried chiming into their conversation but both RedHotPhilly11 and RepudiatedHousewives refused to engage with anyone other than each other. And that energy seemed to carry into the teacher’s lounge that morning. Melissa was at her seat as usual, nursing her second cup of coffee as the news came to an end. And Y/n burst through the door with a sigh heading straight for the coffee machine. Her entrance obviously caught the attention of the other teachers but she was too busy mentally urging the coffee machine to brew faster to care.

“Woah, Shakespeare what’s up with you?” Jacob asked, sliding up next to the woman with a frown. “You’re never down here this late.”

“I had a rather late night so I decided to sleep in for a bit,” Y/n answered pulling the coffee to her chest with a sigh.

“Oh yes, too busy cyberbullying to get a proper night’s sleep?” The history teacher poked. At his jovial tease, the other teachers seemed to tune in. All eager to learn more about the English teacher.

“You cyberbully?” Janine asked incredulously from her spot next to Gregory. “That’s so mean, why would you do that?”

Y/n rolled her eyes and glared at Jacob pointedly before addressing Janine, “I do not cyberbully. I merely chat about television online. If people have bad opinions, I feel obligated to correct them.”

“Oh right, season finale for RHONY was last night. I’m sure you were lighting that little forum up, huh?”

“You know it. Although I’ve got this one person on the forum who replies to everything I post and we were going back and forth all night. They just know every button to push. Like last night, I was going off about the way Brynn was keke-ing with the producers after causing all that chaos the night before. A literal production plant! And then that RedHotPhilly11 comes in my replies arguing with me about facts! So we were going at it for quite a bit.” At Y/n’s words, Jacob’s eyes turned to Melissa curiously with a smile. Maybe the redhead had taken him up on his recommendation. And at her arched eyebrows and startled expression he was right.

“Wait a minute, you’re Repugnant Housewives?” Melissa’s hard voice piped in.

Y/n’s eyes widened in confusion, “Um no, I’m Repudiatedhousewives. How do you even know that?”

“Cause I’m the one pushing your buttons.”

”You’re RedHotPhilly11?” Y/n tilted her head in shock but that didn’t last long before a knowing smirk settled on her face. “Huh, now that I’m saying that out loud I’m not that surprised.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Melissa challenged, ready for another fight. Offline.

“You are hot.” Y/n shrugged easily. Everyone in the room seemed to freeze at her admission but she stood tall in her words and leveled Melissa with a knowing gaze. “What? Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten our very first argument. Where you very boldly called my username pretentious and stupid.”

“Right right, and you said the only thing I had going for me was my looks,” Melissa smirked.

“And your only reply was that you’re hot. Again, can’t argue with facts.” Y/n snickered. “Wow, I can’t believe that of all the people on that forum we’ve been sparing with each other for the last 5 weeks. I didn’t even know you watched the housewives.”

“Who are you kidding, I’ve been watching longer than you’ve been alive kid.”

“Doubtful, I think I came out of the womb watching that franchise.” Y/n pushed up from her place at the counter to walk closer to Melissa’s table.

“Ah what do you know? You probably can’t even remember the original RHONY cast before this godawful reboot.” Melissa goaded, rising from her chair to look Y/n in the eyes.

“Wanna bet?” Y/n said and just as the women were closing the charged distance between them, Barbara reached up to pull Melissa back.

“Alright ladies, I think that’s enough fun for the morning. Why don’t we save this energy for your little chatroom, hm?”

Melissa shrugged and took her seat again working to push her irritation down. But as assessed her body– it wasn’t irritation she found. And Y/n found herself fighting the unexpected but familiar heat that a bossy beautiful woman could inspire within her. They both slinked back to their corners and everyone in the lounge exchanged curious looks over their heads. Not much later the school bell rang, and almost everyone dispersed. Except Y/n and Melissa. They eyed each other cautiously before Melissa broke the silence.

“Reunion part one, next week, my place. Bring wine.”

“Roger that, Red. Maybe we can tag team some poor souls while we’re at it.”

Melissa grinned at the prospect and nodded before heading out the door, “Now you’re speaking my language.”

Let’s just assume they’re still trying to get out of Bravo Forum jail.

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary x reader #msschemmenti #lisa ann walter x reader #lisa ann walter

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honeysorwell · 10 days ago

Text

a ring and the (Super Bowl's) ring

pairing: Restaurant!AU Melissa Schemmenti x fem!Reader

Synopsis of the story + Chapter 1 + Chapter 2

Link on AO3

Chapter 2

Tag list: @janeyseymour @italianaidiota @chloeelou02x (I tagged you all because you are all on my tag list for my other Melissa's fanfic, so since this is also a fanfic for Mel here you are!) (and if you want to be tagged too just let me know.)

Words: 2,9k

All information about the game and the ring was from Google. And thank you all very much for the kind words in the last chapter (and I truly apologize for the delay, but I was checking if the information makes sense, but then I gave up... and now I'm just praying. SERIOUSLY!

Enjoy!

“You look so beautiful waking up like a champion, hon.”, the redhead’s whispered voice, still kinda asleep, in Y/N’s ear infiltrates her senses fast enough for her skin to crawl before she is able to smile at her girlfriend.

Just like the night before, before and after the Eagles’ crushing victory in the Super Bowl, Melissa’s hands are not content with just gently embracing the food critic's skin. The chef of the Italian restaurant needs to let her fingerprints wander under the winning team’s jersey that her girlfriend borrowed from her last night.

“You’ve said that every time I’ve worn one of your Eagles jerseys since we’ve known each other.”, the food critic answers her girlfriend after looking at her own body and noticing that, in fact, she slept in last night’s shirt, but that doesn’t matter when she stretches her body just enough to place a soft kiss on Melissa's lips.

“And I mean it every single time.”, was Melissa’s laughing response to her girlfriend, as she moved even closer to hug her better and escape the morning sun that was gently filtering through the half-open curtains, painting the room and their bed with warm shades of orange and gold.

The delicate light illuminated the messy bed where those two women were intertwined, covered by a disheveled comforter, and the silence of the apartment was broken only by the soft sound of their breathing, low giggles, sweet kisses, and the distant noise of traffic outside.

But being awake suddenly made a throbbing headache appear on Y/N’s forehead, who groaned softly, putting her hand to the spot before asking her girlfriend:

“Oh my… What time is it?”, she murmured, her voice hoarse from sleep and the night of excesses.

Beside her, Melissa began to move, pulling the duvet to uncover part of her body and look at the clock on the bedside table, but the numbers seemed to dance before her eyes.

“I don’t know… too early, for sure,” the redhead replied, letting her head fall back onto the pillow, but it wasn’t long before she carefully rolled over once more, leaning against Y/N' body again.

The two ladies lay there, enjoying the calm of the morning and the warmth of each other. Some nausea and some headache were there, sure, but they seemed small compared to the happiness they felt with the memories of the previous night more vivid than anything in their minds.

Because the previous night was definitely something.

It always is when the Eagles win. Especially the Super Bowl.

Ever since the food critic, Y/N Y/L/N, started dating the chef and owner of the traditional Italian restaurant Schemmenti’s Cucin, she noticed her furious love for the football team. But she really doesn’t think anything could have prepared her for how furious that love is when the Eagles actually win the Super Bowl.

And with such a crushing victory against the Chiefs.

Melissa’s Italian restaurant was buzzing with energy that night. Even though it was a Sunday, a day when the restaurant normally closed early, the redhead decided to open exceptionally to welcome close friends and some family to watch the game that all Eagles fans were eagerly awaiting. The tables had been rearranged to accommodate a large projection screen, and the aroma of lasagna, bruschettas and tiramisu filled the air.

Melissa, wearing her tightly-fitted Eagles jersey and a particularly cute team hat, nervously circulated among the guests, handing out cannoli and making sure everyone was well-fed even after dinner, before the game started, slightly unaware of the adoring gaze that was following her.

Y/N was sitting in a cozy corner with Seamus, Barbara, and her husband, Gerald, watching the anxious chef from a distance. The black woman would hardly participate in an event like that, but thanks to her husband's love for football and her decades-long friendship with the most nervous redhead in the place, the successful painter simply accepted her fate that night. And, with a small watercolor and some disposable napkins, she made quick sketches of the vibrant scene around her.

“You never know when the Eagles are going to win,” was how she justified herself to Y/N and her husband, when they both came to keep her company after dinner, “And I just know Melissa would appreciate it.”

Gerald was just trying to explain the rules of American football to Seamus, who seemed more interested in watching his friend's wife capture the atmosphere of the cheerfulrestaurant than in the game itself.

Kristin Marie, on the other hand, was nowhere near visible, leaving only a patch of her blonde hair perceptible at the restaurant door as she basically inhaled cigarette after cigarette out of nervousness for the Schemmenti's favorite team.

Toni, on the other hand, was more than happy to take care of all the children in the place, at least for now. She was happy and smiling as she handed out one cannoli after another to all the little ones, trying her best not to get the Eagles jersey she borrowed from Kristen Marie dirty. (Theoretically, Don, the blonde's husband, was the one who lent her one of his wife's shirts with the big eagle printed on it without telling her, but no one but the two of them needed to know that.)

When for the first time in Super Bowl history, the Chiefs went to the locker room without scoring, Y/N really began to understand what she had gotten herself into.

There was so much beer. So much wine. So much Grappa.

But maybe this was a great distraction for Y/N's plan.

It wasn't anything too elaborate, but it was certainly special to her.

The following week would be Valentine's Day, and the food critic knew that it was absolutely impossible to take her girlfriend out to dinner on a night that was one of the busiest of the year for restaurants like hers. Melissa had been preparing herself and everyone who worked at Schemmenti's Cucina for over three months. Asking to ruin this for the redhead, who was so full of love for her restaurant, was just cruel.

So a plan was hatched.

Two days before Valentine's Day, after Schemmenti's Cucina closed, Y/N would show up at her beloved's restaurant with a bouquet of pink roses, the redhead's favorite, and her gift. This would give her enough time to enjoy the gift and recover for the busy day at the restaurant two days later.

But unfortunately, Y/N didn't calculate the work she would have to do herself that day. The uncles of the owner of a new restaurant contacted her as a disguised food critic to try some of the new dishes that afternoon, and the poor woman had no idea how long she will be there, and if she would have time to go to the florist who she ordered the flowers and then to get home to pick up her girlfriend's gift.

Taking the flowers to work in advance was a stupid idea, after all, what if something happened to them? She wouldn’t even plan on driving that day.

Bringing gift to work could be a good idea. It was small, light, and wouldn’t be a distraction. But if she forgot it or lost it somewhere in the city, dealing with the redhead’s wrath would be a particularly terrible way to spend the rest of the week. That is, if Melissa didn’t decide to just end her entire two-year relationship with her.

No, she couldn’t even dream of putting that at risk.

And that’s why Y/N was here, in the back of the store, looking for a place subtle enough to hide the elaborate jewelry box, but what she didn’t take into account was that her presence would be missed by the redhead.

“What’s this?” When the redhead’s voice rang out, in the small room filled with kitchen utensils, Y/N thought she would have a heart attack.

The younger woman turned to face the door faster than lightning, holding behind her back the jewelry box that she was sure her girlfriend had seen. The confused and irritated look on her face was more than enough proof.

“It’s not important. Go watch Kendrick, I'll be there in a few minutes.”, the food critic tried to tell her girlfriend, but she knew that wouldn't be effective.

“The halftime show is ending already, hon. But I think you know that. What are you keeping in there?”, the redhead tried again, now even more curious than when she entered there.

“You're going to miss the start of the game then.”, she tried once more, but it didn't work either.

“24 to 0, hon. It's not like something disastrous like that can happen in the two minutes that you show me what's in your…”

“MELISSA? You told me you were going to tell me what was going on in the game while I was smoking and here you are and… What's going on?”, Kristin Marie's voice starts off deeply irritated as she storms into the room, but softens as she sees the distance between her sister and her respective girlfriend.

“Nothing, we’re already on our way back.”, is how Y/N answers the blonde, with a voice desperate enough for the two Schimmentis in front of her to look at her, both annoyed now.

“Mel, do you have any juices for the kids? I just need to put some sleeping pills in them so I’ll be finally free and…”, Toni’s voice is heard before she even appears, but the younger Schimmenti sister’s reaction upon finding two of her sisters there is basically the same as the older blonde’s, “Oh… What are we doing?”

“My girlfriend was trying to hide a jewelry box in my restaurant and refuses to show me what’s inside.”

And it’s exactly as these words come out of the redhead’s mouth that Seamus decides to appear, with a particularly hyperactive child on his lap, who looks for the blonde mother with attentive eyes and only rests when he gently lays his head down in Kristin Marie neck's after being passed into her arms.

“It’s kind of… your Valentine’s Day present.”

The words murmured by Y/N make it seem as if a movie was being played in the Schimmentis' minds.

A family reunion.

A piece of jewelry.

A proposal.

“Oh God help me if it’s a ring… I swear I’m going to close this restaurant.”, Melissa said, now with an accusing look in Y/N’s direction, finally demanding what was once just a request, “Give it to me.”

Y/N smiled nervously amidst the watchful eyes of three of the redhead’s family members there and, with her eyes shining with contained emotion, handed the small box to the chef. Melissa just looked curiously at the velvet box, lost in memories lived there in her restaurant before carefully opening it, just to be completely speechless by the words that stared right at her, separated by a well-known eagle.

“World Champions”

That was an identical replica of the Eagles’ 2017 Super Bowl ring, shining brighter than the redhead’s green eyes.

The three diamonds representing the three postseason victories on top of the trophy. The eagle's back was set with four small green sapphires to represent the franchise's four NFL championships—in 1948, 1949, 1960, and 2017. The inside engraving being upside down to the top logo. It was just… perfect.

By the way it sparkled, Melissa could tell the quality of the work was remarkable, and before she even put it on her finger, she looked at Y/N, with tears in her eyes.

"I know you don't want to get married again, and I completely respect that. So, no engagement rings!”, she said smiling a little, now glancing at the redhead’s siblings, who were watching everything with their mouths open and in silence, before turning her attention back to the woman she loved, “But I found a store that makes particularly charming replicas of any jewelry you could ask for and I just asked for one cuz you are the most important person in my life, and I wanted to give you something that would show how much I love you and how much I value who you are and the things you love.”, Y/N said all at once, leaving no room for shame even with the gaze of the Schemmentis on her back, “You know, like the Eagles?”

And there, exchanging a soft look with her siblings that looked a lot like a silent “I told you so” that she always tells at them, and then focusing on Y/N and how nervous the younger woman seemed waiting for a reaction from the redhead, Melissa felt tears finally escape her eyes.

With shaking hands, she placed the heavy ring on her middle finger, admiring it for a moment before pulling Y/N into a tight hug.

“I love you so much,” Melissa whispered, her voice cracking. “This is… perfect. You are so perfect.”

A Super Bowl ring, of all things.

The only possible ring that wouldn’t hurt what she had set for herself for life.

The only ring that couldn’t be considered a warning, or the sound of a ticking clock.

The one that now rested heavily on her finger was the most perfect ring she could ever receive.

And Y/N gave it to her.

The two remained in each other’s arms for a long moment, before returning to the main hall and watching the entire second half of the game. The redhead, with the Eagles ring shining on her hand, watching her favorite team play brilliantly and with Y/N’s love wrapping her in a soft embrace, could only feel that she had everything she needed.

But when the Eagles were declared champions, Melissa was just on top of the world. She kissed Y/N hard, putting her hand under the Eagles jersey she had lent to her girlfriend and scratching her back while promising her the best night of her life. The redhead also jumped and hugged Kristen Marie, who squeezed her just as hard back before pushing her away. She kissed Gerald's bald forehead, an act that made Barbara laugh like never before shocked by her friend's excitement, before asking Y/N if that on the redhead's finger was what she thought it was. Seamus was just lifting three of the eight Schemmenti children, while Don lifted four more and both men jumped with them in their arms amidst their joyful screams. Toni waited for a few minutes before raising her glass of red wine and announcing a toast, which made everyone present go after their glasses and toast the Eagles' victory like Y/N had never seen before.

With the shrill sound of several messages being received on Y/N's cell phone, the memory that was flooding the culinary critic's heart and mind was replaced by confusion.

"You didn't say you would work this morning, hon.", Melissa muttered, already feeling what was the beginning of a stronger headache thanks to the horrible noise.

"That's because I'm not…", was Y/N's response to the redhead, more confused than irritated. "Can you check who it is for me?"

Without even answering, the redhead turned towards the small bedside table and… picked up the ring she had gotten from her girlfriend the night before, which was resting gently there.

Melissa placed it on her index finger, then on her ring finger… Always smiling softly at her own hand before having her attention called by Y/N.

“Please, my love? It might be important.”

And the term of endearment was what did it for Melissa.

“Oh… It’s just Don.”, was how she answered, already with her glasses on her face, before carefully reading the rest of the message, “He wants to know about the ring because he wants to give one to my sister… He also said that you made all the Schammentis spouses particularly angry with your gift to me because no one had thought of it before. Oh… lucky me to have such a beautiful and helpful girlfriend.”

“How does everyone know about the ring?”, was the first question that escaped Y/N, before realizing that it didn’t really matter, “Should I send him the information?”, she continued, now with a smile on her face and cheeks softly flushed thanks to her girlfriend’s compliment seconds ago.

“Yeah… I'm already the first one in the whole family to have one anyway…” the redhead said simply before handing the phone to her girlfriend, taking advantage of the fact that Y/N's full attention was now on the device before pulling the comforter covering them away from both of their bodies, “Oh! You should give me the number of that jeweler too, so I'll have both rings before Kristen Marie when they announce the new design!”

“Maybe… I've already taken care of that.”, I murmured softly to the redhead before focusing on her face, only to see her eyes widen along with the most beautiful smile in the world appear on her lips, proving that the deal she made with the jeweler in case the Eagles won on Sunday was worth it, “You see, for a woman who didn't want any rings you're way too excited to have two.”

Before responding to Y/N's accusation, Melissa lifted the shirt that was on her girlfriend's body until her panties, the skin of her belly, and her breasts were exposed to her.

“It’s not just any ring, Y/N!” she said with a frown before smiling and gently placing her hand on Y/N’s belly, quickly sending shivers down her girlfriend’s skin at how cold the ring in question was, before continuing and finally pulling her in for a kiss again, “You gave me THE ring!”

#melissa schemmenti imagine #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary #abbott elementary fanfics #lisa ann walter #lisa ann walter imagine #lisa ann walter x reader

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