#melissa schemmenti fanfiction

[schemmentis]

La Cosa Nostra - Pt. 12

Cowritten w/ @janeyseymour

La Cosa Nostra (Written w/ @janeyseymour) - Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11

Summary: Melissa's side business begins, and you begin to feel the heaviness of your situation.

WC: 2.3k

“Good morning, Tony.” Shaw greets the salon manager as he steps towards him and his partner. “Where's Y/N?”

Tony crosses his arms. “Takin’ a vacation.” He answers coldly. “You got more questions; you're gonna have to ask me.”

“Tony,” Danik sighs. “We've been through this before, haven't we? The first time we were here. You know how it works, how about you save us the time and call your boss down here?”

“My boss?” Tony echoes. After a moment he nods. “Yeah, sure. I'll call my boss for ya.”

The last time they were here, the agents had paced the front of the salon as they waited, eyeing everything they could in their search. Today, they stay in a corner, watching the few stylists and Tony at work. Danik is a moment away from asking Tony how long this is going to take when someone walks into the front from the back of the salon.

The man is tall. His dark hair slicked back on his head, shiny with the product used to keep it in place. He looks at ease, calm, as he approaches the agents. He flashes a smile when he nears, white teeth shown and his eyes crinkling at the edges with the motion. His hand is held out to Danik and Shaw individually.

“My apologies for keeping you waiting, Agents. I had to finish things up with my other business.”

“I'm sorry…” Shaw starts as he shakes the man's hand. “Who are you?”

The man chuckles, nodding. “Ah sí, sí, mi scusi. I forget myself this morning. Luca Bellino, at your service. I'm happy to answer any questions you have or walk you through the back again if you like.”

The agents share a look between each other.

“I think there's been some misunderstanding.” Danik says as she looks back to Luca. “We asked to speak with Y/N.”

Luca’s head tilts to the side, looking back at the confused looking agents, matching their expression. “Did you?” He asks as his brow furrows. “I was told you requested the owner.”

“Well, yes.” Shaw says, a bit slowly. “The owner. Y/N.”

“Ah, I see, I see.” Luca sighs in sudden understanding. “Please, come with me.” He requests, turning and leading the agents to the back office of the salon.

“You must not have been informed.” Luca says as he steps through the office, opening a drawer of the filing cabinet and pulling a yellow file folder from it before closing it once more.

He sets the file folder to the desk, facing the agents standing on the other side of the wood. Deft fingers open the folder, tapping the papers now visible. “You see?” Luca says, looking back up to Danik and Shaw. “I'm the owner now. The salon was signed over to me a few days ago.”

“Y/N sold the salon to you?” Danik asks as she's studying the forms in front of them.

“Sí.” Luca answers as his hands cross at the wrists to rest at his waist, his head nodding. “You've seen our books, no? The salon hasn't been as profitable in the last few months. Y/N tried to bring it out of the red but in the end it was safer to sell, especially with her little family to think about.”

“So, now you're going to try to bring the salon’s profits up?” Shaw asks.

Luca smiles, though this time it doesn't reach his eyes. “Do not tell the stylists, or Tony.” He says softer, leaning a bit forward. “I haven't had the chance to speak with them yet and I'd hate for them to learn from anyone other than me but I’m working out the details of shutting the salon down.” Luca sighs, looking for all the world like he wishes he had another choice. “It's just too much to turn around and the clients aren't coming in like they used to. It's the best thing we can do before it gets worse.”.

Danik raises a brow, but he relents. 

The two agents head out, but not before Luca calls out to them, “Whatever you have against the Schemmenti family, drop it. They had nothin’ to do with Bobby’s demise.”

Your day is uneventful. You have nothing to do now that the girls are at school, Melissa is at work, and the salon is out of your hands. You mill around the house, doing as much cleaning as you possibly can before you groan and fall face first onto the couch, bored out of your mind.

You lay there for a few moments before you finally sigh and grab your keys. You make your way out of the house and towards Twelve Tables.

Melissa would say she’s shocked to see you when you come in through the back- but she isn’t. She knows how hard this is for you to not be involved in any of your work right now, both salon and other wise.

“Hi, my love,” you sigh as you pick up a knife and start chopping the broccoli next to her.

“What’re you doing here?” She just briefly glances at you before going back to her own work.

“I think I’m dying of boredom,” you tell her. “I can’t remember the last time I had this much time off from everything.”

“Would you mind chopping this up then while I attend to other business?”

“Other business?” Val asks as she makes her way out of the walk-in fridge.

“I have things to do in the office,” Melissa says, just a bit too quickly. “Scheduling, finances… I think we may need to look into other companies to deliver.”

You raise a brow, as does the manager, but you nod. You know that what she’s actually doing is trying to clean up the area in order to run your other business alongside this one. If you’re going to execute this, and execute it well, everything has to be in it's own place. 

So, that’s what the redhead heads into the office to do.

“Melissa seems frazzled lately,” Valentina notes softly. “Is everything okay at home?”

You shrug. “I uh… had to sell the salon,” you lie through your teeth. “It hasn’t been making money, so… you know. She’s probably stressed over that.”

The woman hums, and for the rest of the time that you’re there until you have to pick up your girls you’re directed on what to chop, dice, slice, and grate.

Finally, you pop your head into the back. “Mel? I have to go pick up the girls. Are you coming with me?”

“Hmm?” Her eyes don’t even leave the new ledger that she’s creating. “I have to wait for the shipment to come in, so… I’ll be home for bedtime though.”

She isn’t. And your girls are beyond confused as to why the three of you can’t stop down at the restaurant for a quick hug and kiss from Mommy and why they can’t have coloring time with Valentina. You can’t tell them the real reason- you just explain that Melissa is busy.

“But Mommy is always busy, and we still always get to go there!” Rosie whines. 

“Not tonight, sweetheart.” You sigh. You know you still could, technically, take them down to the restaurant. Just long enough to say goodnight. Except you can feel your wife glaring at you from across town if you did. Or worse, picture her having to keep her attention away from your girls because she's so busy. 

It becomes a point of contention the rest of the night. Your girls both throw fits because they don't understand. Just getting them dinner fed has you stretched thin. By the time you're fighting with them about bath time you're feeling yourself begin to shake slightly. The girls’ attitudes and fits this evening aren't really what upsets you; it's just the last straw on top of everything else.

You just barely get them both towel dry from the bath when you tell them to pick out their pajamas. The one thing they don't argue with you on this evening as they get to choose their own clothes; one of their favorite things.

You kneel on the tile, letting the bath water out. One of the girl's towels still in your hand you lean to wipe up a small puddle. You toss the towel to the pile near the door to put in the laundry. You sigh, and instead of getting up you let yourself shift backward to sit on the bathroom floor with your back against the wall. 

You bury your face in your hands as you try to stop the sudden tears from overflowing. You just need a minute, you tell yourself. Just a minute you'll let it happen and then you'll pull yourself together. Except you can't. You force deep breaths but you can't stop the tears still rolling from your eyes down your cheeks. You lean your head against the wall as you hear little voices calling.

“Mam! Mam!” It's both Cat and Rosie, steadily getting closer. 

You really try to stop as you wipe your eyes. You don't want them to see you like this. Yet each swipe at your face just sees more tears filling your eyes. 

“Mam! Look at my slippies! I did them on myself!” Rosie exclaims as she shuffles into the doorway, looking at her feet. She's wearing your wife’s house slippers. Backwards.

“Mam!” Cat is saying beneath her sister speaking, appearing at her side at the same time. “I don't have slippies! It's not fair, Rosie has slippies!”

You go to look up, but you hate showing any signs of weakness in front of your girls, so your head stays down as you attempt to pull yourself up from the floor. You lean against the sink, hands tightly gripping the porcelain sink, knuckles growing about as white as the utility in front of you. You keep your back to them, not wanting them to see you as the mess that you are right now.

“Girls,” you sigh shakily. “Mam cannot right now. Get yourselves to bed, and I’ll be in to read your story to you in a few minutes.”

“But Mam!” Cat whines out. You hear her stomp her little foot against the cool bathroom tile, and you can practically see the way that her arms are crossed over her chest- a look that she absolutely picked up from your wife. “Rosie has slippies, and I want-”

Wiping away your tears, you turn around. “Caterina Ann.”

At seeing your face so distraught and aged, both of your twins’ faces drop. “Mam?” They both ask.

“Mam just needs a minute,” you sigh softly, hating the way that your voice breaks just slightly. “Please, girls.”

At that, both of your girls slink off. Your oldest walks off while your youngest shuffles her feet quietly. You half-expect to hear her giggles at the way she’s heading down the hall, but you don’t. Even at their young ages, Cat and Rosie understand that your crying in front of them is not okay- something isn’t right.

When you find it in you to pull yourself out of the bathroom, you head for their room. When you get there though, they aren’t in their beds like you expect them to be. In fact, their pillows and the stuffed animals they insist on sleeping with every night have vanished too. That only means one thing.

You appear in the doorway of your own room, and you see them curled up in your bed. Silently, you thank God you had let your wife talk you into splurging and getting a king-sized bed. It comes in handy for nights like this when both girls worm their way into your bed and Melissa will be getting home and sliding in too.

“Mam,” Rosie pats the spot in between her and her sister. “We leaved room for you.”

Despite the sadness that had inhabited your soul just a few seconds ago, you let a soft smile slip at the kindness and thoughtfulness of your girls. You may not be doing everything right in this world, but you are raising two wonderful, wonderful young ladies.

“Give me a few minutes to change and prepare for bed,” you sigh softly as you wipe new tears from your eyes. “And then I’ll be in.”

It’s about ten minutes later, once you’ve gotten into your sleep apparel and shed a few more tears without the girls’ knowledge, that you slip in between them. Cat hands you a book- your favorite book to read aloud to them. 

After their story, they both curl up into your sides and promptly fall asleep, tired from their crazy day in kindergarten.

And once they’re asleep? Your tears return. Silent sobs shake your body as you mourn the death of Bobby all over again, one that you never wanted in the first place- you had actually pleaded for them to not order the hit on the man. You bite your lip and let the tears flow over the fact that you’ve been taken off of the salon- that you have no idea what’s happening there now despite the fact that it’s only been a few days. You hate the fact that your wife is taking all of this on- that her restaurant is in danger now because you got the feds on your tail and don’t know how to shake them loose. Your heart breaks when you remember that Barbara is now in danger because she holds onto the ledger that determines your, and now your wife’s, fate, and she was still there for you in a moment of weakness at the church. It gets to a point where you’re just crying over it all, a hand clamped over your mouth as the sobs bubble up inside of you, and you have to muffle the noise or else you’ll wake your girls. You end up crying yourself to sleep, body exhausted with all of the emotions coursing through it like a river. You’re drowning- absolutely drowning in it all.

#melissa schemmenti fanfiction #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #abbott elementary fanfiction #la cosa nostra #collab fic

[janeyseymour]

La Cosa Nostra- pt 13

(co-written with @schemmentis): Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7. Part 8. Part 9. Part 10. Part 11. Part 12.

Summary: You and your wife spend some much needed time together, only for it to go up in flames.

WC: ~2.5k

When Melissa comes in, she finds you with both arms wrapped around your girls, them curled into your sides. She sees the tracks of the tears that had been pouring down your face earlier in the night, the pout of your bottom lip, the way that even in sleep and holding your girls you seem to be in distress. 

Melissa quietly gets ready for bed before slipping in between the sheets. Rosie gladly curls up to her when she gently shifts her to her chest so she can shuffle closer to you. The hand not resting on a small back reaches, the backs of her fingers lightly caressing your cheek, imagining she can wipe the now dried tears away from you. “Ti amo, vita mia.” She whispers in the dark of the bedroom.

You blink awake in the dark a few hours later. Your girls are still softly sleeping. You roll over and nearly start crying again when you see your wife asleep and holding Rosie. You knew she would be home, eventually. Still, seeing her is a relief. You curl in closer to her as you close your eyes again. Maybe you can get an hour or two of actual good sleep now that Melissa is here. Before your girls try to pry your eyes open again.

You somehow manage to wake before either of your girls, or your wife. You convince half awake twins to settle for kissing Melissa's cheek and whispering good morning before you get up and get them breakfast. You don't even have to remind them to be quiet when they go back to do the same to say goodbye before taking them to school. You know they miss her, even after only one late night. You do too. But you'd hate to take any more rest from her.

You hug the girls goodbye at school and are walking across the lot back to your car when your phone rings. Your brow furrows. Your phone hasn't rung since you were taken off the salon. You tug it from your pocket, your confusion growing at Tony's name on the screen.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Y/N. Could you come down to the salon? It's kind of important.”

“Isn't all that your job now, Tony?” You all but sneer. 

“Look, we gotta talk about some of the financials. So I need you to help me sort it out, alright?”

You roll your eyes. “I'll be there in a minute.” You reluctantly agree, hanging up before Tony can say anything else.

Despite you not being a part of the operation anymore, you still step through the back entrance of the salon. Tony wants to call you in? Then you're going to come in at the business end of it. 

You stop halfway down the hall at the door of the back office being open. When it was you; you never left it open and unlocked. Too many important things were kept there. You glance inside, raising an eyebrow at the near emptiness of the office. The file cabinets are gone, and so is everything from on top of the desk. The room is empty aside from that desk in the middle of it.

“There you are.” Tony says as he turns down the hall. “C’mon.” He tugs you lightly by the arm into the office, shutting the door behind him. 

“Quite the rearrangement, Tony.” You comment, putting your hands in your pockets as you pace around the desk. “What's goin’ on, huh? What'd you suddenly need me for?”

“The ledger.” Tony says, cutting to the chase. “We need the ledger for the other business.”

You look at Tony, head turning to the side. We? You think to yourself as you study him. Suddenly it's we. And you're not a part of that we. “No.” You finally say.

“What?? What d’you mean no? Look, Y/N, my ass is on the line now, and we need that ledger that you have to have.”

“Oh, I have it.” You say. For all intents and purposes, you do. Only you and your wife know where it is. “I just ain't giving it to you. Tell whoever you're answerin’ to that if they want it; they better talk to me directly. ‘Cause I ain't trustin’ it with you, Tony. I wouldn't have trusted you to balance the cash register drawer.”

He goes to argue, but your phone ringing interrupts him. You roll your eyes at him as you leave, answering it.

“Hello?”

“Babe, where are you? Why didn’t you wake me?” your wife nearly shouts into the phone. “I just woke up!”

“Honey, you needed the sleep,” you tell her softly.

“What I needed was to see my girls off to school and to check on my wife before heading into work- on time!”

Her shouting at you makes you tear up all over again as you slam the door to your car. “I’m sorry. I’ll come pick you-”

“Don’t even bother,” Melissa huffs. “I’ll walk the few blocks.” And then she hangs up on you. 

Your heart nearly shatters in your chest, and your eyes instantly well up with more tears that threaten to spill over. “Mel,” you whisper out softly.

You do still drive the way to her work, and when you get there, she’s just storming in. It’s clear she’s on a warpath as she slams the back door and throws her bag on the chair in the office. You step in a few seconds later, sending a sympathetic look at Valentina; she looks horrified.

“Mel,” you whisper as you wrap your arms around her waist, trying to stop her anger. She just shrugs you off. “Mel, please.” Your voice breaks as your heart actually does shatter this time. 

She turns around at the hiccup in your voice, and there’s a fire in her eyes that dies out as soon as she sees the redness in your eyes and the tears that are there.

“Mi amore,” she whispers as she pulls you in.

“Mel, I- I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I’m so sorry I didn’t wake you this-”

“Hey,” she hushes you gently. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sorry I got so frustrated and yelled. I just… this all has me stressed to the max, and I took it out on you. I’m sorry.”

You cry into her shoulder, and your wife is quick to kick the door shut with her heeled foot. You cry just as harshly and abrasively as you did last night, although this time you don’t have to stifle the sobs that come bubbling out of your body.

“Honey,” she whispers as she rubs your back soothingly. “Baby.”

“I- I don’t even know,” you continue to shake with the sobs that rack through your body. 

It takes you much longer to calm down than she hopes. But eventually she does, and after checking her progress on the ledger, she ushers you out of the building. She shouts to Valentina that she’s in charge, at least for this morning, and if someone comes in with an envelope full of money to just leave it on her desk.

“Melissa, you can stay,” you whisper as you wipe at your nose with your sleeve. “I’ll be- I’ll be fine.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Melissa answers, leading you to the passenger side of your car. “If anything big goes on; Val will call me. Right now, you’re more important, amore.” She squeezes the hand she’s been leading you out by lightly, her head nodding for you to get in.

It’s only once you do that she closes the door for you before rounding the car and sliding into the driver’s seat. She reclaims your hand once you’ve buckled your seatbelt, kissing your knuckles as she pulls out of the parking lot.

“You really could have stayed.” You say quietly.

She squeezes your hand again, glancing away from the road just long enough to raise an eyebrow at you before looking back. “I’m not gonna leave ya when you’re clearly not okay. And don’t go saying you’re fine. I know when you’re lyin’, remember?”

You sigh, leaning back in your seat for the short drive back to your home. “I’m just…over emotional with all the changes. It’ll pass. I’ll be fine.”

“You’ll be fine, that much is true.” Mel agrees though she keeps a hold of your hand held in her lap. “But I’m not going to just expect this to pass. It’s been a lot lately, yeah. But it ain’t like you to just…” She sighs, without finishing. “You’re gonna tell me ya weren’t this way last night, too? Before I got home?” She asks softly instead, her thumb gently passing repeatedly over your knuckles.

“It doesn’t matter.”

Melissa nods, with a half grin on her face. “Which just means yes.” She says. “This is more than just everythin’ goin’ on- even if it has been a lot lately. For right now, stop tryin’ to fight me on stayin’ home, and consider talkin’ to me and lettin’ me help instead, huh?”

You don’t say anything else on the rest of the short drive. Instead, you consider everything over in your mind. As if you haven’t already a hundred times. By the time you’re following Melissa into the house, you could have another anxiety breakdown without much push.

You gladly slip into her side on your couch, her arms that had been held out in invitation instantly wrap around you. You sigh, though you don’t begin crying again. You return your wife’s embrace equally, clinging to her as much as you’re curling up to her side.

“Talk to me, tesoro.” Melissa repeats quietly, kissing your temple as she holds you close.

“Did Sammy tell you I almost turned myself in the other week? When they had you in the station?” You can guess her answer before she gives it based on how you feel her briefly freeze against you.

“No.” Melissa finally answers, one of her hands gently rubbing across your shoulders. “He didn’t. Probably ‘cause he already knew I was seconds away from tearin’ somebody to shreds that day. You really almost did?”

You nod, sniffling slightly. “I just…didn’t know what else to do. All this pressure on us and then gettin’ you so involved….them tearing apart Twelve Tables… God, that was as bad as watching somebody beat you, Mel. It’s like the same thing. You worked so hard for it and they ruined it because of me and—”

“Shh,” Melissa murmurs, tugging you into her lap to hug you even tighter. “None of it’s because of you, amore. We talked about all this plenty before we got serious, didn’t we? Then all over again before we got married? Don’t go actin’ like I’m some innocent little housewife over here, huh? You treat me better than that. You treat me like your partner, your equal, in everything. Includin’ all this. I knew what we were gettin’ into when we started, baby. We both did.”

“I know,” you mumble into her side. “But now... it’s so much more than just us and the business. We have your restaurant now. We have the girls now. The only thing that stopped me from turning myself in was the girls. I- I couldn't turn myself in and miss everything for the next ten to twenty years... the teen years, graduating and sending them off to college, high school boy or girl drama... potential grandbabies.”

“If either of them has a baby before they’re twenty, we are going to have problems,” Melissa chuckles lightly.

“Well... if I wasn’t there, you know that data shows kids with one absent parent statistically are more likely to fall into...”

“Not our girls,” your wife states firmly. “If anything happens to one of us, I have full faith that those girls will stay on the right track because of whoever is left with them.”

You just sigh into her, inhaling the scent of the perfume that she has on. You take a few shaky breaths, tears threatening to spill over again. They don’t though. You have your anchor right now.

“What do you need right now?” your wife asks you gently, once your breathing becomes more regulated. “Comfort, a solution, or to just... sit in the shit together?”

You shrug against her, and she only kisses your head as a response. You end up falling asleep, and when you wake up, Melissa is no longer next to you. In fact, the only reason you wake up is because your two tiny terrors are jumping on the couch next to you despite your wife’s quiet protests.

“Girls, let Mam sleep,” you can hear the redhead sigh as she drops their backpacks at the door.

“We are!” Rosie protests. “We just want to cuddle her and make her feel better after last night!”

Your response is to pull them both close to your chest with a soft sigh as you keep your eyes closed. “Mam needs some Cat and Rosie snuggles.”

“‘See?” Cat tells your wife pointedly. “Mam needs us!”

You hear Melissa’s low chuckle before she exhales quietly. “Is Mam going to be okay if I head to the restaurant?”

“Can we come with you?!” Rosie asks. “I miss Auntie Val.”

“Stay with Mam,” you tell them gently as you pull them further into your lap. ��Cuddles, some pizza, and-”

“I only like the Pizza that Vince makes at the restaurant,” Cat tells you.

“We can order takeout from Mommy’s restaurant then,” you try to placate.

“Why can’t we just go there?” Rosie whines out as she tries to break free from your hold. For such a small little thing, she sure is strong. She ends up getting out of your restraint, and she’s quick to put her shoes on and grab her backpack before taking hold of Melissa’s hand.

“Girls, why don’t you... go grab some coloring sheets and crayons from the basement?” your wife suggests. They run off.

“They are not going to the restaurant now that it’s the front,” you tell her.

When you expect your wife to agree, she merely shrugs. “There are usually other kids with their parents, and the guys drop off in the back.”

“Melissa!” you say sternly. “My girls are not going to a front!”

“They are our girls,” she tells you firmly. “And I think... I think that if they’re at the restaurant, and the Feds show up, having the girls there will help fool them into thinking we aren’t up to anything.”

“Melissa.”

She just shrugs. “You want them off our backs? I think this is the best way to get them off our backs.”

You go to protest her idea again, but the girls come running back with new boxes of crayons and a multitude of coloring sheets in their hands.

“Come on, sweet things,” she says softly. “We can all go to Twelve Tables.” The redhead takes both of their hands, grabs their backpacks, and leads them out the door. You fume as you follow behind her. You can’t believe she would go against your wishes and make such a big decision on her own.

Tags: @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld

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

[cissyenthusiast010155]

Giving into Temptation ~Melissa Schemmenti xFem Teacher!Reader

🥸 Anon ask— Hey!! ❤️❤️ I love your fics so much! These are just some ideas I had for! Feel free to mix it up if you want!! 4, 8, & 23 Melissa Schemmenti x reader‬— Hope you Enjoy 🥸 anon!!

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

#4. One bed troupe

#8. “Fuck you.” “That’s what I’m trying to do...”

#23. “Like my name that much, do you…? Moan it then… Moan my name, [insert pet-name]…”

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!, One bed troupe, enemies to lovers vibes, future implied smut, smut, fingering, thigh grinding, wet dreams, degrading kink, praise kink, etc.

Enjoy (;

Melissa had really been looking forward to PECSA weekend. Until Barbara had invited you to join their drinking party.

It’s not like the two of you hated each other. It’s just that you were both very opinionated and couldn’t have a conversation without somehow butting heads. For one, you were from Cleveland. And that was all Melissa needed to know to not like you.

“Uh no no no, Barb…” Melissa complained, “I’m not letting my weekend get ruined by *Ohio*…”

Ohio was Melissa’s nickname for you…

“Now Melissa…” Barbara chided, “You will let Y/N join us. She’s new in town and to the school, she shouldn’t be all on her own at PECSA…”

Melissa grumbled a bit more about it, but eventually gave way.

~~~

“Oh Hell No…!” Melissa exclaimed, shaking her head.

“I’m sorry, miss, it’s the only room left available at the moment…” the hotel check-in attendant said.

You gulped and blushed.

“Barb please…” Melissa looked to the poised kindergarten teacher for help.

“Oh no, I’m sorry Melissa, but I need my private time…” Barbara told the desperate red head, shaking her head.

The red head groaned in frustration.

“I am not sharing a room with her…!” Melissa growled in a low tone to Barbara.

But you heard the woman…

Eventually, she gave in, as there were no other options. You all got into the elevator and traveled up to your rooms. Barbara’s room ended up being right next to yours and Melissa’s.

“Shall we say the pool bar in 45 minutes?” Barbara suggested.

You both nodded in agreement, entering your shared room. Melissa slammed the door behind you as she huffed. But you stood still in your tracks. You gulped at the sight in front of you.

There was only one bed…

As Melissa came to your side, her eyes widened at the same realization.

“Oh Fuck No…” she murmured, carrying her things in reluctantly.

“It’s fine, I uh… I can sleep on the floor…”

She looked at you quizzically.

“No. That’s disgusting. It’s fine. We’ll share.” She huffed.

“And I’ll just get hammered anyways to not remember…” she murmured to herself.

~~~

The night went by and Melissa did indeed have a lot of alcohol, but so did you. By the end of the night, you both crashed into your room and immediately collapsed on the bed. Melissa was quick to establish her side of the bed, before promptly turning away from you. You were worn out and quickly faded into a slumber after that.

~~~

“You're so wet, baby… Is that all for me…?” The woman cooed, teasing your drenched folds with her fingers and holding your legs wide open.

You bit down on your lip to muffle a moan trying to escape your lips, you nodded vigorously and panted heavily.

“Obviously it's for me… You're my little whore, aren't you?” She lustfully sneered, sliding her two digits back into your sensitive cunt.

You gasped at the sensation and her words, mewling in pleasurable overstimulation.

“I’m such a good fuck that you can't get enough of me, can you?”

“Yes yes yes…!! Please pleaseeee—!” You chanted, arching your back into her form as her fingers pounded into you. Your hips began to grind against her hand… hard…

“Such a cum slut… You would do anything to get fucked…” the woman wickedly purred.

You nodded vigorously, approaching another high quite quickly.

“You wanna cum…?” She taunted, “Say my name… Say it…”

“Mel…!” You mewl.

“Louder.”

“Melissa…!!” You cry out.

“Good slut… Cum with my name on your tongue…” the red head growls.

“Fuck— MELISSA!!” You scream, cumming all over her fingers.

~~~

You suddenly jolt awake, trembling and all hot. You look at the clock.

3:37am

You then gasp as you feel a hand on your arm. You turn around to find Melissa starring at you. She moves slightly and your breath hitches as you feel your core on her thigh. And your dripping… All over your thighs… and hers… You gulp and go red.

“I… I’m so sorry…” you whisper, immediately retracting yourself and keeping to your side of the bed.

“Nice dream…?” She chuckled.

“Shut up…” you mumbled, going an even darker shade of red.

“You know… you were talking in your sleep…” she continued.

Your eyes widened slightly. Shit shit shit… This was all becoming too much.

“You were whimpering… a name… my name.” Melissa continued.

“Fuck you. Fuck you, Melissa.” You seethed through gritted tone.

At that, the red head tugged you to the middle of the bed, pinning you below her. You yelped, but she shut you up by smashing her lips into yours.

“That’s what I’m trying to do...” she growled.

You tried to contain the moan threatening to escape your lips. Melissa then suddenly backed away, backing herself up against the headboard. You rolled back up and we’re now in between her legs. You looked at the red head in anticipation.

“Why don’t you make even more of a mess on my thighs…?” The red head taunted.

You gulped breathlessly and nodded. You quickly straddled the woman’s thigh and began grinding against it. She tensed her thigh and you mewled out in pleasure.

“Like that, baby…?” Melissa taunted.

You nodded vigorously. Suddenly, you felt the woman’s hand stabilize your sides and start really rutting you against her thigh. You were a desperate, slick mess.

“Like my name that much, do you…? Moan it then… Moan my name, baby…” The red head growled.

“Melissa please Oh God—!!” You cried out.

The red head brought you over your edge on her thigh, leaving you a panting mess. You went to lay back down, but Melissa stopped you.

“Oh, we aren’t done, Sweet girl…” the red head chuckled.

~~~

Melissa Schemmenti Masterlist

#🥸 anon #melissa schemmenti smut #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti fanfiction #melissa x reader #lisa ann walter #lisa ann walter x reader #Lisa Ann Walter character #abbott elementary fandom #abbott elementary #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary x reader #Abbott elementary smut #one bed trope #enemies to lovers #Spotify

[s-ublimewrites]

writing sonnets (melissa schemmenti x f!reader)

synopsis: your students tease you relentlessly and melissa can't help but to join in

words: ~1.4k

warnings: none i think? wholesome borderline crack

note: im not sure i ever actually gender the reader here? but f!reader to cover my own ass<3

Don’t get it twisted - you love the inquisitive nature of your students, you really do. It’s something every eighth grade English teacher longs for. But your fourth period class has a certain knack for getting you off topic with their curiosity. On this particular day - a Friday, so blissfully close to freedom - you have relinquished all control and let them fall down the rabbit hole of fanfiction, of all things. Leave it to middle schoolers. 

They had only been learning about first, second, and third person narration - so innocuous, you didn’t see how you could possibly be derailed. Maybe you’d make it through the lesson, and you could relish in the four minutes of silence you get between periods, and-

“Where is second person narration used?” Angel doesn’t bother raising his hand, and you don’t bother admonishing him.  

You think briefly. “Honestly, not many pieces of published works use it - not that I’ve seen, anyway. We don’t talk about it much. I’ve really only seen the second person used in one place.”

You intend to leave it at that, but of course, Angel pushes. 

“Where?” he asks. 

In the second you use to inhale before tackling the question, Kennedy takes the liberty of answering: “Fanfiction, duh. That self-insert stuff.”

You can’t help it - a laugh bubbles out, and this is the moment everything begins to spiral. 

“Yeah,” you collapse into your desk chair, “Kennedy’s right. Fanfiction.”

Kennedy takes the opportunity - it’s been presented to her on a silver platter, really. “You know about fanfiction, Y/L/N?” 

“Sweetheart, my generation invented fanfiction. And I’m a writer. This was my game before you were even born.”

Angel is on his feet, his hands slamming on his desk and his voice rising with excitement, “WHERE CAN WE READ YOUR FANFICTION?” 

“Oh, my God, no. You can’t. It’s not on the internet or anything, I’d just, like… send it to my friends, or whatever,” you insist, hands coming to cover your red face as you laugh. 

The class, buzzing with chatter and giggles, continues to harass you. “So, what, Ms Schemmenti reads your fanfiction?”

Your hands are still covering your face. “No, Ms Schemmenti most certainly does not!”

“That’s because the fanfiction is about Ms Schemmenti. Y’all see how Y/L/N be looking at her in the halls,” someone says, and several others voice their agreement. 

“She’s down bad for real.”

“What?!” your head snaps up, eyes searching for whoever made the comment. The bell rings before you can get your answer. “Get out of my room, you absolute little monsters. Have a good weekend, please read chapter th- oh, okay, you’re gone. Cool. Awesome.” 

You look at the camera. It zooms in on your red, deadpan face. You drop your forehead onto the desk. 

-

When you walk into the lounge at the end of the day, you slump into the chair beside Janine, who’s engaged in a conversation about a scrabble tournament (sober scrabble - boring) with Jacob and Gregory. Barbara listens, not contributing, surely stockpiling the information so she can tell Melissa later. Melissa, who is thankfully not in the room at the moment. You think you would burst into flames. 

Janine halts her conversation about triple word scores when you throw yourself down into the chair by her. 

“Rough day?” Janine asks tentatively. 

“Long. The kids were focused on literally anything other than The Outsiders.” 

Janine nods. “I get it. Fridays, y’know? It’s always hard to keep them on task.” 

“Well, Y/N,” Jacob starts with a smirk, “my students were actually pretty interested in the topics of your class today. It’s all they could talk about when they sat down for seventh period.” 

You glare at him hard and warn, “Jacob. Do not.” 

Janine looks back and forth between you both and turns to Gregory. “Is there something I’m missing?”

“No,” you say sternly. Your eyes don’t leave Jacob’s shit-eating grin. “Not a thing.”

Jacob, it seems, has exceptionally few survival instincts and carries on giddily, “Y/N’s students found out she writes fanfiction-“

And, oh, good, Barbara is listening now, too. “Fan-fiction?” 

“Why is everyone saying that word today? It’s all I’ve been hearing in the halls since, like, fourth period.” Melissa asks, striding into the break room and taking the seat next to you. 

“I’m going to have to transfer schools,” you say, closing your eyes. 

Melissa pays this no mind. “All the older kids keep looking at me, too. It’s weird.”

You glare daggers at Jacob, whose face must hurt from the width of his smile. 

“So weird!” Jacob says innocently. 

Melissa narrows her eyes. 

“Why are you being weird? And not normal Jacob weird,” she questions, turning to you. “Why is he being weird?”

You slam your boot into Jacob’s shin under the table. “He’s not. No one’s being weird.” 

Melissa’s eyes flick back and forth between the two of you suspiciously. “Okay, someone tell me right now - what the hell is a fanfiction, and what does it have to do with me? And, apparently, Y/N?”

“Melissa, I am so glad you’ve asked, allow me to explain-“ Jacob starts, leaning across the table toward Melissa. 

“Oh my God,” you cut him off. Time to swallow your pride. 

You explain the situation… sort of. You explain in a watered-down way that incriminates you less. 

“So, yeah, they found out, and because I said ‘friend’ they connected it to you, and they misconstrued the whole thing, and it’s literally not a big deal-“ you're rambling and she knows it. 

“Wait,” Gregory stops you, “so this is why I heard Angel say ‘Y/L/N be writing sonnets about that red hair’ during lunch?”

Janine raises her eyebrows. “‘Sonnet?’ Pretty good vocab word.”

“Thank you, Janine! And thank you for focusing on the important part of the matter at hand: my impeccable teaching skills.” 

“So,” Barbara chimes in, “do you or do you not write these little stories about Melissa?”

“Barbara!” You’re mortified. “No! I do not!”

At long last, Melissa speaks. You don’t need to look at her to know there’s a smirk on her lips. “She doesn’t need to. Clearly, the material writes itself.”

“Melissa,” you plead. 

Melissa laughs that laugh, the one that makes the corners of your mouth turn up despite your discomfort. 

“Maybe that could be your end-of-the-year writing project for the kids - make them write that fanfiction,” Melissa teases. 

“You’re just as bad as Angel!” You laugh incredulously and let your hand smack Melissa’s shoulder. The others don’t miss the way Melissa doesn’t break your fingers at the gesture. 

In fact, Melissa's eyes soften as she bumps your shoulder with her own. “No, no, I can see it - newbie woos the Philly Eleven. There’s potential there.” 

You roll your eyes. “Well, I am pretty charming.”

“I’m going home,” Barbara stands up with a polite (if somewhat exasperated) smile, “Very glad we got this out of the way. Have a good weekend, everyone. Y/N… call me later.”

Barbara pats Melissa’s shoulder with a pointed look toward you, and takes her leave rapidly. 

“Uh,” you stare after her. “Yep. Bye, Barb.” 

Melissa’s eyebrow quirks up. “What was that?”

“Dunno,” you reply. “I’m sure you’ll know everything approximately five minutes after I hang up with her, though, so don’t worry.” 

Janine butts in (ah, yeah, the nerds are still here), “You guys call Barbara? Can I have her cell number? I always want to ask her but-“

“No,” you and Melissa say in unison, and Janine sighs heavily. 

You heave out a sigh of your own. “I need to go home - moreover I need to be somewhere no one is asking me about my nonexistent fanfiction habits.”

You stand, and Melissa stands with you as you both gather your belongings. “Impossible. I have your phone number.”

You “accidentally” smack Melissa with your purse, and Melissa “mistakenly” shoves her chair into your leg in a way that makes your knee buckle, and the rest of the Abbot crew watch the scene in morbid fascination. Because the cold hard truth is that if anyone else had dared to do… well, any of this, Melissa would be shoving her earrings into her pocket and removing her heels. Fight or fight instinct, y’know? 

Instead, though, she just swears at you in Italian as you head for the door, grinning widely when you return the sentiment in plain english. 

Ava entering the lounge halts you in your tracks. 

“Y’all will never guess what Angel just emailed me,” Ava exclaims, holding up her phone. “Did you know he knows the word ‘sonnet’? Proud of him.”

“Forward me that?”

Another smack from you. “Melissa, stop!” 

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti fanfiction #abbott elementary fanfiction #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary #lisa ann walter

[hocuspocusbabyy]

A little Ficlet from my archive of wlw… first time posting my Melissa content!

A breath of fresh air:

“You’re Jacobs aunt and the new French teacher at Abbott Elementary, Melissa and you bond over shared cigarettes and vices.”

Melissa stood next to her car facing the fence, away from Ava who was contently giggling at whatever stupid video she and Jacob were watching. She didn't see why Barbra had to banished her to the far side of the school for wanting one bloody cigarette.

Mel huffed trying to get her lighter to work from her spot behind the shed as she looked around, the empty streets dimly lit by the lamp lights bounding off the metal fence. It dawned on her that she was alone out in the Abbott Parking lot. Everyone else having escaped inside from the cold.

'What you doing over here all by yourself?' A familiar voice called, startlingly elegant the remittance of France still present within the dentals of her accent.

Melissa felt all the hairs stand on the back of her neck. The teacher whirled around to face them, the woman that had been giving her heart palpitations and a mega lady boner since the moment she’d arrived at Abbott four months ago.

Jacob’s Aunt, Jacob’s young, very attractive aunt - who was nearly fifteen years younger than her.

'Needed one,' Mel smirked awkwardly, holding up her unlit cigarette. 'Just can't seem to...' she gave her lighter a few flicks for effect, but it was futile.

'Here." Y/N produced a lighter and lit the flame, as Mel gratefully leaned forward and sucked on her cigarette until it caught.

'Thanks,' the redhead replied, finally feeling the blessed burn as the smoke hit her throat.

'So,' Y/n remarked, ashing her own cigarette, 'Jacob tells me you're a real Lotario.'

Mel looked back at her with a raised eyebrow. 'Who’s that?'

Y/n smirked. 'A slut, basically.'

The redhead grinned at Y/n 'Damn, you've just going call me out like that Hill?"

Y/N took another drag and smirked. 'So it's true then? You just go with a lot of men?'

'Go? As in a date? Nah, It's like, I've don’t take anyone out to the movies or shit like that, none since I was married… even when I was married.’ She shrugs inhaling again, ‘just kinda go with the flow,’ There’s an emphasis on that last part.

‘Everyone got a vice.' Y/n concurs. 'I for one have always enjoyed the pleasures of my fellow feminine species.” - how very French Melissa thought.

Y/n leaned against the wall alongside the teacher. 'I don't mind the company of women either. Never have.'

Y/n raised an eyebrow. 'Really?'

'Is that so surprising? An old gal like me chasing skirt?”

Y/n laughed aloud taking another drag of their cigarette, smiling appreciatively. 'So crude Schemmenti.”

Melissa made an acknowledging sound stubbing out her cigarette as you continued, ‘so what is your vice then?" Y/n asked, watching the Italian woman with interest.

"Work." Mel deadpanned.

"There are worse things to be addicted to I suppose" Y/n shrugged throwing down her cigarette and stepping it out.

"Yeah, but being addicted to sex sounds much more fun" Mel commented, smirking as she swore the woman beside her blushed.

"You know Janine and Gregory are definitely going to hook up”

Mel gave a disbelieving tisk, not wanting to give away her friend and colleagues years in the making relationship. "What makes you think that Frenchie?”

'Come on,' Y/n replied, placing a hand on her hip, 'Have you looked at them? It's bound to happen. I can't quite put my finger on it but I know there's something there.' Y/n continued, her eyes narrowing. 'There was this sort of connection between them the moment they laid eyes on one another. It's been a tumultuous back and forth ever since, someone you can’t falsify.’ Her gaze lingered upon the Italian, the soft curve of her hips as the lay push against the brick. Full and decadent. An essence to their words that did not reflect or belong to Gregory and Janine at all.

'I suppose you may have a point.'

'If they're not shagging now then they will be, I just know it.’

“Not who’s crude.” Mel joked, a dazing full smile lay upon her features.

Y/n simply shrugged. 'I only hope Jacob catches on and finds someone too, at least so he won't turn out a spinster like her aunt.'

‘Oh come on’ the redhead sniggered, ‘you a spinster? How ridiculous. You’re far too young and gorgeous to be referred to in such a way.’

‘You don't believe me? all my relationships have ended in utter failure because I am reserved to becoming an old spinster,' Y/n sighed dejectedly, dramatically. 'Perhaps I should just accept my fate and adopt a bunch of cats.'

Mel smirked, a little laugh escaping her lips as he turned to Y/n if you wanted to play coy, she’d take the bait. ‘Look I don't know much but I do know, no matter when or how it happens, you just gotta be open to it,' she whispered, ‘and when you've done that, well maybe then you can get some cats.’

Y/n looked at Melissa for a good long moment, letting what she had just said sink in. After a bit, she nodded in agreement before revealing a sly look.

‘You think I’m gorgeous?’

‘Caught that did you?’ Melissa shook her head, flashed a charming grin, ‘besides I'm sure even old spinsters get a good fuckin' every once in a while."

‘Oh sure. I'm sure I'll be able to fit in a good rendezvous or two between all the cat feedings.’ Y/n delighted, their bottom lip curling upon their teeth.

‘Yeah, see, there you go,’ Mel laughed. ‘I'd definitely wanna show a fine cat lady like you a good time.’

Y/n found herself grinning, and looked down shyly. Maybe she was lying a little, plenty of people flirted with her, but never any as spectacular as this particularly teacher. What was a white lie in favour of a future?

Y/n turned towards Mel reaching out and grasping her wrist, taking her other hand and idly drawing circles in the Italian’s palm. 'Is that an offer?'

Melissa gave another, surprisingly nervous laugh, smile brilliant and charming. 'Well that depends on your answer Frenchie.’

Y/n hummed as if she were contemplating what they were going to do. When really she was just trying to contain her excitement because holy shit Melissa Ann Caterina Schemmenti was going to kiss her.

No time for nerves Hill.

Y/n’s breath caught in her throat as the redhead stepped in front of her, moving in close. Y/n bit her lip, holding in a gasp as she felt tender fingertips and a set of perfectly manicured nails just barely graze the soft and sensitive skin beneath her left eye. A hot palm pushing against her skin, brushing away her hair and pulling in. Y/n needed bit down harder to prevent a gleeful shout from escaping as strong hands grasped into her hair.

There was a moment, a bare seconds, void of anything other than the woman before her. Vision becoming little but hues of red remittent of Italian soils that Y/n would gladly be lay to rest in. The soft apex of the teachers lips falling down upon her own, moving in a perfectly smooth motion.

Melissa Schemmenti’s lips could only be found among worldly things, the simplest of pleasures. Between old library pages, morning rain and bath water as it fizzled down a drain. A kiss worthy of its benefactor, a kiss she couldn’t help but reach up and steal again. A rememberable of smoke thick upon their teeth, as they devoured one another.

#fanfiction #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti fluff #melissa schemmenti fanfiction #abbott elementary #wlw

[dianneking]

Happy Birthday, Blondie - Larissa/Melissa

Hello hello! For the first week of Back on The Writing Horse (you can find the original post and masterlist here) I am using prompt 2553 by @promptsforthestrugglingauthor

"Are you going to just spend the day alone?"

"That's what I do most days. It doesn't make a difference to me."

Thank you to @scream-queenlover for picking that prompt out for me and making this lovely cover art to go with the fic, as well as the closing one.

Fandom: Wednesday (2022) and Abott Elementary Characters: Larissa Weems / Melissa Schemmenti Tags: Friendly banter, Dare I say it's fluff? (it's fluff), Food, Mentions of skipping meals. Words: 1497

Happy Birthday, Blondie (link to AO3)

…Kind regards

Larissa Weems, principal of Nevermore Academy.

Larissa sighed in relief after clicking the send button on the latest email. Today had been quite the whirlwind of phone calls, emails and meetings, and it was still only lunchtime, who knew what the afternoon would entail. She closed her eyes, massaging her temples to try and stave off the tension headache she was starting to feel building up. She loved her job, and she loved Nevermore, but there was just something about this sort of days that really took a lot out of her.

The door to her study chose that moment to slam open, noisily hitting the cabinet at the end of its run. “Well, if it isn’t our principal caught dozing off at work!”

There was only one person in Nevermore who had the guts to barge into Larissa’s office unannounced and insult her work ethic at the same time. Larissa refused to give her the satisfaction of opening her eyes.

“What is it, Melissa?”

“Oi! At least look at me when you sigh my name. That’s a privilege not many people have, if you usurp it, I’ll have you move back to using Miss Schemmenti.”

“And we wouldn’t want that.” Larissa deadpanned. But she did crack open her eyes. The fiery head of her coworker was almost too bright in the sunlight that streamed in from the tall windows of her office.

“For sure not today of all days!” The smug grin on Melissa’s face told Larissa that the redhead knew she had won this round. Damn it.

“And what’s so special about today?” Asked Larissa petulantly.

“Are ya kidding me, Blondie?” Melissa looked at her as if she expected some sort of trick from her. Or a smart remark. That was their thing after all. A constant banter, prodding at each other trying to find the right button to push to make the other concede a point in their match of wits.

Larissa liked that. She had been too used to people in awe of her, or too scared of her power (both the political one and the actual shapeshifting) to pose much of a challenge for her. When Melissa joined Nevermore, Larissa had at first balked at what she had perceived as blatant disrespect from the latest addition to staff. But after a while a sort of understanding had formed between the two women, a sort of mutual recognition of kindred spirits (aided by a couple of heart-to-hearts brought along by copious amounts of wine, but they didn’t talk about those too much).

Melissa must have read that she was still missing the point, because she lifted her eyes to the ceiling, as if to ask the heavens to grant her patience, and strode forward to place a cafeteria tray on Larissa’s desk. Larissa blinked at the plates: on one, a heaping portion of lasagna that looked way too good to be standard Nevermore fare, and on the second, bigger plate, a whole chocolate cake, complete with a dripping layer of decadent ganache and a wonky writing that recited: Are you a natural blonde or did you dye for attention?

Larissa tried to avoid drooling at the sight, while her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she had skipped breakfast, again, this morning.

“Happy birthday, Blondie.”

Oh. Was it today? Larissa could’ve sworn today was still Thursday and her birthday wasn’t until…

…her eyes fell on the stylish calendar perched on the side of her desk.

Friday, February 16th.

Whoops.

“You can’t be serious. You had to check the calendar to be sure it was your birthday?”

“No!” Larissa lied quickly. “I just hmm…I wanted to check something, that’s all.”

“Sure, sure, whatever makes you sleep at night. Eat up, you don’t want my lasagna to get cold.”

Larissa picked up the fork. That was Melissa’s cooking. That’s why it looked – and smelled! – so absolutely divine.

“Thank you by the way, you didn’t have to.”

“Oh please. We both know that you skip more lunches than the ones you actually eat. At least on your birthday you should enjoy some good cooking.”

Larissa dipped her fork into the lasagna, inclining it sideways to slice a bite off of it and scooping it up to bring it to her lips. Her eyes fluttered closed in pure bliss as she chewed. It was an explosion of flavors and textures, perfectly balanced and delicious in every aspect. The fullness of the meat, the tangy and yet sweet tomato sauce, the sheets of pasta cooked to perfection, all enveloped by the smooth embrace of the bechamel sauce…it wasn’t just a lasagna, it was a masterpiece.

“Wow.” Was the only word that she could form before she dove back in.

She heard Melissa’s throaty chuckle, and knew without raising her eyes that there was another self-satisfied smile adorning her lips. Well, Larissa could allow her this one. The lasagna was really something else.

They sat in silence for some time while Larissa ate, Melissa having slouched in one of the armchairs in front of Larissa’s desk, as perfectly at ease as if she was in her own living room, before the redhead spoke conversationally.

“You know, I am glad I dropped by at lunch break, so I managed to remind you in time to get ready for whatever you have planned tonight. Not attending your own birthday party would be kinda lame.”

Larissa took her time swallowing the bite before she replied.

“Oh, that’s kind of you, but I don’t have anything planned for tonight. Just a quiet evening in, you know?” Actually, the more this conversation went on, the more Larissa was looking forward to curling up on her couch with a bottle of wine and some good music. Maybe read a bit, too? She almost didn’t remember the plot to the novel she was reading, so long it had been since she last had time to open it. Was that lame? She had just turned 46, she was allowed to wallow a bit and not go out and celebrate if she didn’t feel like it. Right?

“Oh come on. You’re not gonna spend your birthday evening here in your office, are you?”

“Why not? It’s a very nice study, I spent years decorating it just like I want to.”

“Yeah of course. I mean what’s a better birthday companion than a stuffed raven, after all? But seriously, Larissa,” Melissa’s tone turned serious, and the fact that she used her first name instead of a ridiculous nickname signaled that this was not a question Larissa could brush off flippantly, “are you really going to just spend the day alone?"

"That's what I do most days. It doesn't make a difference to me." Larissa shrugged, cleaning the last bit of lasagna sauce off the plate with the side of her fork. She had never been a huge fan of birthdays anyway.

“Absolutely not! I will not allow that.”

“I…beg your pardon?”

“You may beg all you want but you won’t get out of this. Be all ready and dolled up at six this evening. I might not have as many resources here in Vermont but the ex-husband of my second cousin owns the most disreputable dive bar in Williston. We’re going.”

“Melissa, there’s no need to…”

“No no. You misunderstand. This was not a question. You’ll be coming with me to party on your birthday night whether you like it or not, Miss Weems. And you’ll have the time of your life doing so.”

Larissa met her eyes, her bright green eyes looking up at Larissa as if challenging her to disagree, and all it did was make a lovely warmth spread in the taller woman’s chest. She shook her head, an exasperated smile climbing to her lips. 

“Alright, alright, you stubborn woman. You win. We’ll go celebrate my old age at your shady bar. But you’re offering the first round.”

“Ha! As if I’d let the birthday lady pay for her own drinks! I’ll have you know that my nonna raised me properly!”

They made eye contact across the desk, blue meeting green with an intensity that was new and warm and exciting. Larissa tried to convey in that gaze how much Melissa’s actions meant to her. Not just the cake and the birthday wishes. Hell, not even the invite to go out together. It was the fact that Melissa was there for Larissa in a way nobody had been in a very long time.

“Thank you, Melissa.” She said, frustrated at herself for being unable to say more, and yet charging those two simple words with all those untold things.

She was able to see the blush crawling up the other woman’s cheeks at her gratitude, and couldn’t help but think how adorable it made Melissa look. Clearly embarrassed, the redhead ran a hand through her locks and spoke in a gruff voice.

“So are you just gonna stare or are you gonna try the cake?”

The End

For anyone wondering, this is loosely in the same universe as my other Larissa/Melissa fic, New Teacher In Town. You can find more of my fics in my masterlist

Next fic in the challenge >

#larissa weems #melissa schemmenti #larissa weems x melissa schemmenti #larissa/melissa #larissa weems fanfiction #melissa schemmenti fanfiction #crossover fanfiction #abbott elementary #wednesday netflix #gwendoline christie fanfiction #lisa ann walter #lisa ann walter fanfiction #gwendoline christie #dianneking fanfiction #dragonmist fanfiction #dianneking writes

[sapphicdbc]

4 for the questions.

Hello Anon!

The week has been chocker block so I’m only replying to you now, sorry :)

“4. How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Care to share one?”

I won’t lie anon, I have a good few. I have over 100 drafts of fics that for some dumb reason I never post. I’m working on it though!

I am currently trying to continue Surrender, my Frankie fic.

Otherwise, I have a couple of Melissa Schemmenti x reader fics that I’m working on;

- Melissa and the museum volunteer

- Melissa at an Italian restaurant

-Melissa goes speed dating

-Melissa and the cover teacher

-Melissa and her nighttime love (this is technically two ideas in one and I’m still figuring out what to do...)

I’d be more than happy to share my progress of one of them if interested? Let me know!

And thank you for the question, very appreciated :))

#anon ask #thank u #fanfic #questions #jemma redgrave #frankie #zoe evans #angst #berena #holby city #bernie wolfe #serena campbell #catherine russell #abbott elementary #lisa ann walter #melissa schmmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti fanfiction #melissa schemmenti angst #melissa schemmenti

[moonysreid]

ever read a fic and get the sudden urge to comment in all caps about how much you love it?? but you don’t want the writer to think you’re absolutely crazy..

#i swear im normal #i can totally be chill #it’s the adhd #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #writers on tumblr #natasha romanoff x reader #dean winchester x reader #spencer reid x reader #melissa schemmenti x reader #kaz brekker x reader

[fadingdaggerr]

Hi!! I was wondering if you could write a fluff Melissa x reader, where R is a new teacher and shes got this sick motorcycle and everybody thinks she's super cool and badass, and Mel's absolutely head over heels and gets all nervous when R is around, and when R eventually realizes it she starts doing things on purpose to get Mel all flustered.

With like A LOT of fluff.

You can maybe make it little spicy too, or not.

Idk you do whatever you prefer.

know i’m alive

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: request above! 18+ minors, dni | 5.8k

includes: the dating but not really sort of trope, but of ooc!melissa i’m sorry, partially unedited again im sorry

warnings: sexual innuendo, alcohol consumption (brief), making out/kissing, smut (fingering, oral, mel receiving), body worship?, aftercare

note: the bike referenced is a harley-davidson 1992 daytona, one of my personal fav models. i grew up in a biker family so this was cathartic. also the temperatures referenced in fahrenheit are roughly the 10-20°c range, hope that’s helpful :)

It’s become a sort of routine: get to work, drop your things off, get coffee, make Melissa blush, teach, do prep, watch Melissa try to hide a smile, go home, repeat. You can’t help yourself, getting the woman, who will always be the toughest in any room she’s in, riled up with fluttering lashes. Shocked faces from across the room didn’t help with the ego you were steadily growing with each interaction.

The first day you were at Abbott, she pointedly ignored you, despite constantly having an eye on you. What you once thought was suspicion over a new person near the kids, though sort of true, was more of a curiosity. A new third grade teacher walked into her school, wearing an oversized denim jacket and old Chucks, how was she supposed to feel? Her harsh glares and eagle eyes softened, and you started to see a more bashful side of the woman. It was only until Ava had the balls to say that Melissa’s behavior was very not Melissa, that you noticed that only you could evoke this side of her.

Since day one, the redhead has had an interest in you, not that she would ever verbalize it. Breathlessness has become a common feeling every time you come in with the sleeves of your sweater rolled up and rings adorning your fingers, making her focus shift and half the time she doesn’t hear a word you say, just following the gold bands that catch the light as you speak animatedly. Melissa longs for the day you got close enough and she could pull you in by the necklace you wear, the same that dangles in a taunt when you lean into her space. In the brief moments you’re alone, there’s a sense of calm that comes over both of you. The need to keep up a bravado drops, and you can indulge yourself in her presence. She’s lost count of how many times you casually dropped a gorgeous or beautiful instead of using her name, and how she has to fight turning when you say either in casual conversation, not just to her. All you know is that her wide, surprised eyes are all the motivation you need to keep it up.

—☽—

It’s bitter cold as you walk into Abbott, finding yourself nearly running to the main entrance before your eyes begin to water from the nipping winds. Reprieve comes in the form of the front lobby, leaning against it to catch your breath and shrug off your jacket to let the warmer air rid you of goosebumps. With your belongings dropped off in your classroom, it’s easy to start moving towards the lounge, knowing you saw a silver car that belonged to a certain redhead.

The voice of Jim Gardener is all there is when you enter, Barbara having, no doubt, told them to shut their mouths while her ‘second favorite man’ was speaking, Gerald also ranking number one in his wife’s heart. Grabbing your personal mug from the shelf, you pour a cup of unfortunate coffee as you watch Melissa through your periphery. She used to sit in one of the chairs, no room for someone to place themselves next to her. However, once you started, you noticed she moved to the couch, where no one but you was brave enough to sit.

Walking slowly to your spot, you gently sip the coffee that threatens to spill over the sides before setting it on the table. Lowering yourself, you sit purposefully closer to Melissa than a typical coworker would. Not one shuffle away or look of discomfort comes of it, it almost makes you grin. As the weather comes on, and Jim is no longer on screen, voices start to fill the room. You throw your arm back to the back of the couch as leverage to push yourself forward, leaning into Melissa’s space as the two-week broadcast appears on screen.

Her attention on you is not missed, neither is Barbara’s, who you already know is giving Melissa a look of bewilderment. The dusty pink that paints her cheeks with every interaction between you has quickly become your favorite color. It’s a struggle and a half to keep your eyes on the screen, but the temperatures being in the fifties and sixties starting tomorrow made you so excited that it didn’t even matter. Instantly, your mind is whirling with plans for the second the final bell rings and you can run out the door.

When the news goes to commercial, you sit back, keeping your arm behind Melissa’s shoulders. The warmth radiating off of her has your mind begging for you to shift your arm just a touch closer, to wrap your arm around her, but so far playing it safe has been working in gaining her trust. She can’t help it, green eyes falling onto you as she tries to decipher your move, hoping to catch something in your eyes that tells her what this was between you. All she gets is a little smirk that is half-hidden by a sip of coffee from an orange mug.

Melissa catches on quickly to your happier mood, finding the joy you exuded, that seemingly came from nowhere, to be adorable. She can’t even believe that word dared to enter her vocabulary. Your typical flirty remarks don’t make an appearance, just a serene smile on your face and a wink to Melissa when you catch her eyes scanning over your face. 

As the last kids get into their dad’s truck, you find yourself practically skipping back to your room to quickly gather your things. With the speed in which you move and the utter state of focus you are in, you don’t notice Melissa’s little smile as she sees you move with obvious excitement as you leave the building. She decidedly ignores the little thought that you may be all giddy to see someone else, and maybe she will continue to ignore it with a glass of Merlot.

Marty at the front desk of M&J’s Storage Company gives you a tightlipped smile and a curt nod as you drive past, having gotten used to you stopping by periodically over the winter. Pulling up in front of unit seventy makes your heart race, the second most beautiful thing in the world sat behind that navy metal door. The old lock takes a few tugs to loosen its hold, finally allowing you to release the latch and lift the door.

“Well, hello again,” you mumble as you pull back the cover, eyes scanning over metal. It hadn’t been long since your last little maintenance visit, meaning all you had to do was drive home and get her shined up.

After stopping at the gas station on the way home to fill the tank, you finally park and nearly eat pavement as you jump out of the car. It takes extra effort without the help you usually get from your brother to lower the bike off the trailer, but you manage, though it leaves your arms shaking while you remove the cover again.

Polish turns the piping from grey to silver, the dust off the body goes back to its original tan, and the blue on the design is restored to its proper glory. Despite checking once a month or so, you cross your fingers as you start the engine, hoping that all your hardwork will pay off and nothing will go wrong. The engine does a chg-chg-chg before it turns over and the motorcycle comes to life.

“Yes!” you exclaim, jumping in the air slightly with sheer amount of excitement running through your veins. You let the bike run for a little bit as you take photos to send to your brothers as proof you could, in fact, get it off the trailer without them. 

All you can think about for the next couple hours before bed is the feeling of your riding jacket and the wind blowing against it.

—☽—

The sky is still dark when you open your eyes the next morning, impatience waking before you before your alarm. Once you’ve gained your bearings, you get up and are getting ready as fast as you possibly can. It’s impossible to sit still, you’re almost dancing in place as you brush your teeth and can’t stop yourself from skipping to the closet by the front door. Shoved in the back, next to your sandals, was a pair of black, leather, steel toe boots. After saving every penny your senior year of college, you bought them as a graduation gift for yourself, and you’ll wear them until you can feel the ground through the soles.

Once you had to turn around due to forgetting it from sheer enthusiasm, you borderline ran down the stairs to your garage space. With the garage door open, the warm air creeping in from the outside is invigorating, and the lack of wind for the first time in two weeks gives you hope that your face won’t freeze off on the ride to Abbott. The biggest pain is getting your backpack to sit comfortably over your slightly bulky riding jacket, covered in patches from states and towns you’d visited over the years.

The second the bike begins to move, it feels like all of your problems have disappeared behind you. The low rumbling and revving drives others crazy, but it feels like the calming presence around you. If only the cops around weren’t such sticklers, or you’d have left your helmet off for the fifteen minutes drive. The wind on your face is better than caffeine, but your eyes water so badly, you can’t have anyone thinking you were sobbing on your way to work. That’s a Monday activity, not Thursday.

From the speed in which you got ready to get on your bike, you’re the second person in, Janine always being first. You refrain from sitting by the TV once you’re in the lounge, just leaning against the counter and sipping your coffee until the object of your affection arrives. Gregory and Jacob come in together, talking about the next round of plants for the garden. When Barbara comes in, you can see that she’s holding in laughter, a fast-talking Melissa behind her.

“How are you not freaking out, Barb? That bike is beautiful, and it’s at Abbott, Abbott, of all places,” she almost yells, her hands waving around with disbelief in her friend’s relative disinterest.

“It’s a bicycle, Melissa.”

“Motorcycle, it’s a motorcycle. It doesn’t have a basket and ribbons, unlike yours,” Melissa mumbles that last part, but Barbara stills catches it and gives a gentle smack to her friend’s arm, despite laughing herself. You can’t lie, knowing that Melissa is fascinated by the bike, you want to speak up about it now, but instead, you stay quiet.

The spot next to her by the TV stays vacant, practically having an RSVP with your name on it. When you plop next to her, she peeks at you from the corner of her eye, and she does it a few times again during the commute report. You catch her the fifth time, raising your brows in question to not gain the others’ attention, but she just gives you a shake of the head. She turns back to the TV, but you’re persistent, propping your arm behind you like you’d done yesterday, and poking her shoulder.

Her head whips away from you, and seeing that it was your hand over her shoulder, she turns back to you with a playful scowl.

“What?” she asks with a softer tone than you had expected.

You lean in just a touch to keep your words between the two of you, “you were staring. Was just making sure you’re okay.”

God, you could survive solely off the way her eyes shine, how wide they open at your earnest. Neither of you realize the time between your words and the answer that has yet to come, just looking at each other as a tiny smile plays on your lips. It takes the internal will of ten thousand men to not jump at her emerald eyes dropping briefly to your lips.

“Right… Sure you’re not just flirting? Like a little kid annoying their crush?” she jokes, partially to save her from embarrassment, partially to hide the racing of her heart from your attention.

“Could be. But at least I’m not the one avoiding the question,” you joke back, and when she doesn’t answer again, you push, “nothing to say about that, beautiful?” Her eyes go to her lap as she shakes her head, another poor attempt to hide the clear effect you have on her. For now, you’ll just ignore the feeling of her leaning slightly closer to you and try to still your rapid heartbeat.

—☽—

In a desperate attempt to see who owns this magnificent bike, Melissa stays in the parking lot, loitering by fiddling with her purse to not raise suspicion. She immediately ignores Gregory and Mr. Morton, knowing they’re too stiff to ever consider getting on a motorcycle, let alone this one. As she sits there on her phone, after fifteen minutes of waiting, a familiar hum starts up and the bike is moving out of the lot.

That jacket. Patches cover nearly all visible space, even a little Eagles one next to a custom Abbott patch. Even with the helmet obscuring your face, without the jacket, she’d know you anywhere. Immediately, she starts to move, putting her car in drive as she pulls out of the lot the same way you did, conveniently the same direction she needed to go.

With a stroke of luck, she pulls into a lane next to you at a busy red light, rolling down her passenger side window, “aye! Why did you say shit about you having the bike?”

You push up your visor, yelling over the motor and traffic, “air of mystery!”

“Bullshit!”

“Guessing you want a ride, huh, gorgeous?” You can’t even contain your grin as you watch her eyes widen, flicking to the red light that has still yet to turn. Little do you know her mind is screaming and your cocky little smile isn’t helping one bit.

She swallows the lump in her throat, “follow me to my place.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you say as you flip your visor back down, glad to be able to cover your face as you smile so hard you narrowly avoid missing the light turning green. It doesn’t take long to fall into line behind Melissa, cutting into a tiny space that earns you a deserved honk from the old man behind you.

It’s less than twenty minutes before Melissa’s blinker directs you into her driveway. You walk it slowly next to her car, keeping the engine running as you take off your helmet. Melissa gets out of her car, abandoning her purse in the seat next to her, and stands nervously by the hood as she plays with her sleeves. Suddenly the thought of being one the motorcycle, pressed against your back, sounds so good she’s afraid she’ll ruin it somehow.

Your voice cuts off her brain’s nervous rambling, “I’ve only got the one helmet with me. So, you’ll wear that, and we’ll stick to the side streets.”

“No highway,” she grumbles as she steps closer.

Your nose scrunches as you laugh at her pout, “no highway and nothing over forty, cross my heart.” Holding out your pinky, she begrudgingly takes it while ignoring the butterflies in her stomach. “You’re gonna wanna tie your hair back, low bun, braid, something like that.”

“Ponytail?” she asks, pretending she doesn’t care that your pinkies are still wrapped around one another.

“Nope, it’ll just tangle. And we can’t have anything happening to that beautiful hair,” you subconsciously pull her hand closer and draw her in. Her finger tightens around yours in return. When her neighbor pulls into their driveway, their car door shutting loudly disrupts the quiet between you two, making you both pull away.

Instead of speaking of it, you both fiddle to get ready for a ride around the block or down to the corner store. Melissa faces away from you to tie her hair into a tight low bun, she takes deep breaths to calm herself from the sheer proximity to you. Behind her, you fiddle with the clasps of the helmet to fit her better.

When she turns to face you again, you motion for her to get closer and her eyes almost bulge out her head. Melissa slowly approaches you as her fingers tangle around themselves. You lift the helmet in silent question, and she nods. Carefully, trying to touch her as little as possible, you help get the helmet on without pulling her hair.

You open the visor before you adjust the chin strap, “feel good? Secure?”

“It’s comfier than I thought,” her voice comes out slightly muffled by the guard in front of her lips. Melissa prays you can’t hear her fast breaths, completely overwhelmed by your scent surrounding her.

“Good,” you smile, “I’ll back her up onto the street, then you can hop on.”

Once you’ve got the kickstand down so it’s as stable as possible for her to get on, you offer a hand as support. Melissa slowly places her hand in yours, the squeeze she receives tells her trust me, I won’t let you get hurt. Using the footrest, she gets herself over the seat to straddle it behind you. Manicured hands flex open and close behind your back as she becomes unsure of where to put them.

“There’s handles, slightly behind you, that you can hold onto,” speaking loudly over the motor. You turn over your shoulder to meet your eyes with hers, “or, if you wanna, you can hold onto me. Whatever’s your preference.”

To save face, she rolls her eyes, “just want my hands on you, don’t you now?”

“Can’t call you a liar for that one,” you say with a smug grin, turning back to lean the bike upright and put up the kickstand. The second you start to move, Melissa’s arms go tightly around your waist, white knuckling your jacket.

Feeling her holding you was only so pleasant until you realized it was mostly from fear. Before taking off slowly, you pat her hand where it rests on your abdomen. It only grips tighter in return. Taking your foot off the ground and beginning to move, feeling more careful in every move you make as to not make Melissa more nervous than she was. It was surprising really, that Melissa Schemmenti of all people was nervous on a motorcycle.

Her grip starts to loosen after the third or fourth turn, but her arms don’t move. Melissa almost rests her head against your back, but decides against it in a sudden judgment. When the moment comes where she feels comfortable, she releases one arm from her hold on you to push the visor back up to have an unobstructed view of the Philly streets and your reflection in the mirrors.

When you finally slow down, it’s six blocks over at her favorite corner store, they’ve got the best hoagie options. She uses your shoulders and the hand you placed out for her to get down from the bike, legs numb from the vibrations of the bike and motor against her thighs. You’re quick to get off, helping her get the helmet off and fixing the little strands of hair that stick up from static. Neither of you mention Melissa’s rosy cheeks or your lingering caress along her bangs.

The small shop leaves little room to roam about, and you stay closely pressed to Melissa’s back as you maneuver to the counter to order food to bring back to her house. With the warmth radiating off of you, she now understands how you felt the whole ride. She knows how you feel about her, it’s a mirror of the ache in her chest for you, and feeling you against her has her heart pounding in time with yours.

From around her waist, comes your arm, offering the cashier a twenty dollar bill. Your other hand rests against Melissa’s hip, holding your wallet open for the change. This has to be some sort of revenge for holding you, she thinks to herself.

As you slowly pull into her driveway, there’s an air of unsureness around the two of you. Stepping off the bike again, you fiddle with your fingers, not wanting to invite yourself into her home. Melissa tugs at the ends of her sleeves as she plans her next words.

“Do you wanna come in, have a beer with those hoagies?” Melissa offers with a hopeful tone.

You smile as you grab the helmet from you, clipping over the little strap on the seat. She takes the hint and walks towards the door with you closely behind her. Inside, without the jacket and boots on, Melissa thinks you look soft. Everything about you is so careful with her, even when you wear worn leather with chains, this dressed down version matches the treatment she always receives.

Sitting across from her at the island, you answer all her questions about how you got the bike, how you maintain it, how you learned all the tricks to keep it running.

“Seriously, that thing’s how old and still going that strong?” she asks through a mouthful of capicola.

“It’s thirty now, it’s a 1992. Harleys are just built to last longer than the actual biker at this point, especially the older models,” you take a swig of beer, “the Daytona was too good to pass up. I got it so cheap and the guy barely had miles on it.”

Melissa perks up, “how much?”

“Thirty-five hundred. Stupid cheap, he could’ve easily gotten ten.”

She smirks, “and you just let him trick himself out of the money?”

“Duh,” you say. There’s a beat of silence before you both start to laugh, leaning into one another over the table.

—☽—

The sun set some time between finishing the hoagies and the third episode of The Real Housewives she roped you into watching. She claimed it was only fair considering she willingly got on the motorcycle. What had started with you two on different cushions quickly became you being pressed against each other, your arm taking residence behind her, but never touching her as you always kept it.

In a strange moment of bravado, Melissa leans against the back cushion and your arm dips into the slope, falling gently around your shoulders. You purse your lips in an attempt to keep a straight face, adjusting your arm to have your hand rest on her shoulder. It doesn’t take long before your fingers begin to draw nonsensical patterns over her shirt. Time passes, episodes go on, and Melissa’s weight starts to fall more into you. Every passing second you become more aware that you don’t want to leave this position as long as you live.

The screen turns black, Are you still watching? appears across it, behind the words, a reflection of the two of you. Your gaze dips down, immediately meeting Melissa’s looking up at you. Green eyes flick to your lips, and for the first time, you know for a fact that you are not imagining it. Her tongue pokes out to wet her lips, capturing your attention. Eyes meet and it’s so quick, neither of you can tell who starts it.

Melissa’s lips taste like light beer and strawberry chapstick, and her tongue is dominating and soft. Her hands grip tightly at the base of your neck, keeping you close to her like you would disappear if your lips left hers. Your hands take residence on her waist, like they had hours ago, and the warmth of her skin under her shirt is screaming your name, begging to be touched.

Tongues clash against one another, sticky lips clumsy as air becomes a necessity. Barely taking your lips off her skin, you trail downwards to her jaw, placing wet kisses along it. The hands on her waist push up and make their way beneath her shirt, gently squeezing her warm, supple body. The feeling of your soft hands holding her makes Melissa groan, tugging you back to her wanting lips.

All she’s wanted since the moment she met you, to hold you, kiss you, touch you, it’s all happening and she can barely find it in her to stop. She never wants it to. With your teeth tugging at her bottom lip, a borderline moan escapes her, and she feels you smile against her mouth and it’s all she can think about. Melissa is completely putty in your hands.

Without breaking the distance between you, you pull away from her lips slowly. Heaving breaths escape both of you, lips swollen and pupils dilated from lust. Melissa’s hand traces from the back of your neck to the chain of your necklace dangling in front of her, looping it around her finger to pull you in closer. Your lips graze over hers, but her words fill the space before they can touch.

“What if I asked you to take me upstairs?”

Your thumb brushes over her ribs, “then I would.”

The door handle almost puts a hole in the wall with the way Melissa shoves it open behind her as you walk her backwards towards her room. Her hands drop from your face to the hem of her shirt, beginning to pull it up before your hands take over. As you step away to throw her shirt off to the side, your eyes drop and a soft look comes over your features.

Stepping into her space again, your fingers trace over her skin, “you’re so beautiful.” It’s barely above a whisper, she barely hears it, barely even sure you’re aware you’ve said it.

Melissa’s only response is to kiss you again, pulling you towards her bed until she topples onto it, taking you with her. Your thighs straddle her as you tug off your own shirt, bending down to continue ravishing her. You kiss down from her lips, to her jaw, to the dip at the base of her neck, then trace your tongue back up. Cold hands grab yours, pulling them down to the button of her jeans.

“Are you sure?” you ask from above her, free hand pushing baby hairs from her blushing face. She only nods, not trusting her words. You shake your head lightly, a little smile on your lips, “I’m gonna need a real answer, lovely.”

Lovely, that’s a new one. She feels her face warm under your gaze, arousal pooling. With the strength she can muster, she utters, “please.”

Without a moment to spare, your lips are on hers again, hand at her waist moving to unbutton her pants. As you help push them down, your hand passes her panties, the dark patch of wetness calling to you. It only invigorates you as you let go of her lips, kissing down to her chest. Arching forward, she makes space for your wandering hands to slip behind and unclasp her bra.

A breathless mumble of God leaves your lips, before soft kisses are pressed to her sternum, skim over to her breast. You kiss her skin with a reverence she’s never felt, teeth graze over her hardened nipple before your lips wrap around it, tongue swirling. The unattended breast begs for attention that is quickly given by your hand, rolling the bud between your fingers.

The warm hand at her waist grips down to her thigh, pushing her legs open to make space for you to lie. Your mouth and hand switch, equal, worship-like attention given to each breast. Melissa’s quiet, hidden moans become louder, hips shifting for pressure against yours. Taking the hint, your lips travel lower, licking over her abdomen and gently biting when she tugs at your hair.

One hand wraps around her thigh, the other keeps her in place as a weight against her stomach. Pressing wet kisses to her thigh, you look at her for permission to continue. The image of you between her legs, lips on her wet thighs, eyes shining with want, all she can manage is bucking her hips towards you, a whine escaping her lips.

One last kiss is placed against plush skin, Melissa’s hand tangles with yours, interlocking fingers feeling like they belong there. Your warm, wet tongue glides over her slit, up and down in slow figure-eights, her little gasps only egging you on. Flattening your tongue, you press harder against her, tasting her more fully, groaning against her in satifaction. It makes sense why Eve would so easily give everything for a mere taste of the forbidden fruit. Sweet and warm, divine heaven on your lips.

Melissa hips buck into your face, begging for more and you are more than willing to give. You lick up to her clit, the pearl demanding attention from you. Small, circular motions with your tongue make Melissa groan, slapping a hand over her mouth as she gets closer and closer to her peak.

You lift away from clit, much to her dismay, “don’t do that.” The hand on her stomach moves to pull her hand away from her mouth, “I want to hear you… please.”

Her hand drops to the sheets beside her, and your mouth is back on her. Sucking harder against her, your hand slides down her abdomen and positions in front of her blooming lips. Your middle finger presses into her slick walls, forcing a moan from both of you. With a few gentle pushes and pulls, you slowly ease in your ring finger, making her clench tightly.

Red nails dig into your hair, tugging as Melissa writhes above you. Husky moans and whines fill the room, pleas of faster and yes, yes are burned into your mind, a melody you won’t dare forget.

You pull off of her clit to take a breath and speak, “can you take more, baby?”

“Please,” she says through pants. The hand in your hair tug you up to her lips, “please.” Her desperate grasp is not willing to let you go, claw-like nails digging into your back.

Lips dancing as you shift your hand to put your thumb to her clit, lining your forefinger to her pussy. Melissa’s jaw drops as the third finger stretches her more, the moan that rips through her is felt by your lips on her neck. You keep a steady rhythm of circling her clit and pumping your fingers into her. Her moans turn to pitched whines, walls hugging your fingers, she was so close. You kiss down her neck, sucking little marks that will fade by morning, taking your time on her breasts and lower stomach. Reaching her clit again, suck it into your mouth as you speed your fingers’ pace.

Frantic hips begin to still, a whine leaving her plump lips as she cums around your fingers. Your attention leaves her clit to travel down her lips as you slowly pump your fingers, removing one by one as she comes down. Shaking thighs relax against the bed as you clean her with your tongue, nectar of the goddess being all the reward you need. She pulls lightly at your hand on her thigh, begging for your lips on hers.

Pressing a final kiss to her pearl, then thigh, you capture her lips in a slow kiss, soft and full of the love that had been hiding under every interaction since you’d first met. When you pull away, you bring your fingers to her lips to give her a proper taste of herself. Accepting the offer, her tongue swirls around the digits. You internally scold yourself for being jealous of your own hand, even the string of saliva that connects her heavenly mouth to your fingers.

You shift to cup her cheek, admiring her droopy eyes and blushing cheeks, the sheen of sweat over her forehead. Her own hand mirrors your movement, pulling you down to press a kiss to the corner of your lips.

“You are so- too good at that,” she mumbles against your cheek, feeling the vibration of your laugh.

You press a kiss to her cheek before flopping next to her, “you, you taste too good.”

Her hand comes to cover her face, but you’re quick to catch it, bringing it closer to kiss the back. Melissa chuckles as you nibble on the knuckle of her pinkie, but she frowns as you roll off the bed. Emerald eyes follow you to the ensuite bathroom, and back as you go back between her legs with a warm washcloth. The featherlike touch and soft kisses to her skin only further the blush on her cheeks.

After discarding the rag and tugging off your jeans, you lay down next to her on your side, eyes scanning over her face. Her head turns to you, enjoying the quiet between you, even more so when your pointer finger traces her features and takes special attention to her lips. Lipstick smudged around her chin, surely on your face as well, and messy eyeliner, she’s never been quite so beautiful.

The gentle ministrations and loving attention make Melissa’s eyes grow heavy, sleep grasping at her despite the fight to stay in your presence. Feeling her relaxing into you, you shift to lay on your back, arm out inviting her into your embrace. Lazily rolling into you, her face tucks into your neck, hand searching for yours.

You tangle your fingers together and whisper into the air, “I think it goes without saying, but I’m stupid in love with you. Everything about you. Just thought you should know.”

“Good thing,” she says through a yawn as she shifts more into you, “because I’m stupid in love with you, too.” 

You press a kiss into her hair, “go to sleep, pretty girl. I’ll be here in the morning, if you want.”

“Of course I want,” it’s barely audible, but you can tell she means it.

The scent of sex, sweat, and eucalyptus body wash radiates from her, underneath it all is a smell that’s so uniquely Melissa that you can feel yourself sinking into the mattress. It feels easy, being with her, it makes sense. You find yourself staring at the ceiling, you recount every time you should have spoken up about your feelings. Surely there could have been a time, but none seem to come to mind. It only makes sense that this is how it was supposed to happen. In her bed, on this day, with the taste of lager on her tongue, you were meant to find your way together.

title from beauty school by deftones

one day i’ll write a shorter fic like i planned in my head

feedback appreciated as always <3

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #lisa ann walter #abbott elementary #lgbtq fanfiction #lgbtq #lesbian

[cosmicanemoia]

There aren't enough jealousy fics in any platform known to mankind.

I'm a sucker for jealousy fics, and I can't be the only one. Right?

Like, where are the rests of fanfic where (romanoff/maximoff/weems/mills/schemmenti/etc...) going feral because they think someone wants to steal their lady (reader)???

#writing #sapphic #lesbian #wlw #x reader #reading #fanfiction #tropes #jealousy tropes #jealousy #jealous character x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #larissa weems x reader #regina mills x reader #melissa schemmenti x reader #lesbian brain rot

[schemmentis]

Revelation

Anon asked: Prompt: With Jacob living with Melissa, he sees how gay she is around reader and tries to open her eyes for it.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.3k

Pt. 2

“So…” Jacob drawls as he brings the last of the dirty dishes in from the living room. “When are we gonna talk about it? Because I kinda can't pretend I'm not seeing what I'm seeing at this point.”

“What are ya talkin’ ‘bout?” Melissa questions. A stern look at him for his not forthright way of speaking. “Talk about what, kid?”

“Y'know…Y/N.”

“What about Y/N?” Melissa rephrases her original question as she takes a step away from her sink. A hand on her hip as she outright glares at Jacob now. Irritated at his still beating around the actual topic, and now that he's bringing you into it too.

You were the newest member of their little Abbott crew. Still, you had been around long enough that they all knew you fairly well. Melissa, arguably, the most of all of them. Though she wasn't necessarily the warmest person; she certainly was more so than when you had first met her.

You were now a regular on the couch for morning news, at Mel and Barb's table for lunch, and the game nights the red head sometimes hosted. The crew, especially Janine, had wanted it to be held more often. Melissa maintained once a month was more than enough to invite them all into her space after school hours.

She stands even more firm on that stance now that Jacob is staying with her. She's grown more fond of him in their short time so far as roommates. He'd surprised her on more than one occasion for some of the things they had in common. The sharing of Real HouseWives goes a long way just by itself. Still, she wasn't about to invite anyone in any further.

Except, when she wasn't paying attention she already had. You had taken the spot right behind Barbara of being her favorite. Some days, you surpassed her work wife too.

She raises an eyebrow when Jacob still stands across from her in the kitchen. Game night had just ended and he was kindly helping clean up afterward. Then he had to ruin Melissa's mood by implying something about you. She still didn't understand what the younger man was trying to get at as he stumbled over the start of his next sentence beneath her glare. She knew, though, if it was anything bad about you she was prepared to make it however long they stayed sharing a living space hell for him. Even if she did like him.

“Would you just spit it out?”

“How much you like Y/N, is what I was trying to say. I didn't realize how close you two were until now.”

Melissa scoffs. This is what he had gotten her worked up over? She tugs the dish towel slung over her shoulder off to toss it onto Jacob's. “You dry.” She mutters, turning back to her sink to begin washing the used dishes.

“Of course I like Y/N. I don't see what the big deal is.” Melissa says after a moment of washing in silence.

“I knew you always picked her to team up with on game nights, obviously.” Jacob says as he dries the plate she's handed him. “And how you guys are at school and all. I just never noticed the other stuff until staying here.”

“What other stuff, Hill?”

Jacob's brow furrows, realizing Melissa really doesn't see it. “You talk to her every night on the phone.” He says, gently setting the plate into the dish rack before taking the bowl she's holding out to him. “Even though it's only been a few hours since you saw her last.”

“So?”

“I mean, do you do that with Barbara?”

“No, why would I? I'll talk to her in the mornin’ or Monday, whatever. Whenever we're at school next. Unless somethin’ bad's happened.”

“Right…” Jacob trails off, trying to navigate the conversation carefully. Part of him worries he's reading too much into things. The other part is worried he's already irritated the redhead just by starting this conversation and if he is right it's clearly going to be a revelation for Melissa.

He clears his throat, trying another approach. “Do you and, uh, Barbara do anything on the weekends?”

Melissa gives him a side eyed look. A little bit like he's dumb for asking. At least, he's sort of used to that one from her. “No. She's got church and Gerald.” She says like that's obvious and he should know that.

Which, he does know. He shifts the piece of silverware he's drying to the dish rack. “Last weekend you went to the movies with Y/N.”

“Yeah, she wanted to see Barbie. Again. She insisted it's different at the theater.”

“The weekend before that you went to the farmer's market together.”

“I'm not gonna pass up fresh produce, especially the peppers. I can use those in plenty of dishes and you get twice as much than at the supermarket. Besides, Y/N is always looking for fresh, local honey. New vendors, too. If somebody new is at one of the local markets then she's gotta go check it out.”

Silently, Jacob is begging Melissa to get his point but he can see she really isn't.

“You don't think it's…different with Y/N?”

“It's different with all youse.” Melissa answers as she shoves the last cleaned plate into Jacob's hands, frustrated at his prodding. “I ain't with you like I am with Barb and I'm not with Barb like I am with Y/N. What's it matter?”

“It doesn't.” Jacob answers quickly. At least, it doesn't in the way he can tell his questions are beginning to stress Melissa out. He certainly isn't judging, or trying to.

He thought Melissa at least had an idea of the different way her relationship with Y/N was when he first brought it up. He thought he had just caught onto something that was being kept private. Now, though, it's clear to him that Melissa hasn't even considered that relationship to this level.

“I just noticed you guys…spend a lot of time together is all. I thought…” Jacob stops himself from finishing his thought. He doesn't know how Melissa will take it now.

“You thought what?” Melissa presses, wiping down the kitchen counter. She doesn't turn to him but Jacob can hear the glare in her tone.

“I thought you guys were…seeing where things were going.” Jacob hedges.

“What's that even ‘spose to mean?”

“I thought you were dating and just not ready to tell everyone yet.” Jacob finally says plainly.

“Dating?” Melissa echoes, turning back to face Jacob now. In half a second, she gauges his seriousness. He means it. “You thought me and Y/N were, are, dating?”

Jacob shrugs helplessly. “Yeah. You two are just kind of…always together.”

“Well. We’re not.” Melissa says sternly.

Jacob nods. “I get that now. I won't just…assume next time?” He hesitantly promises, mustering a smile he hopes will disarm Melissa's demeanor. “For what it's worth, you guys would be good together, though.” He adds, making his way out of the kitchen to put away monopoly still left out on the coffee table.

Melissa stares after Jacob. He's disappeared from sight but her eyes remain on the space he had stood in before. A knee-jerk part of her says it's ridiculous he even thought the two of you were dating. A larger part acknowledges how he could have thought it.

She takes a deep breath, turning back to the sink. She lets the dirty dish water from the sink. She wipes the faucet and edges before wiping down the metal of the sink once the water’s drained. She drapes the dishrag over the metal divider between the two basins.

Her hands brace against the edge of the sink. A dim metal thunk when her palms hit it with small force. “Shit.” She’s falling for you.

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti fanfiction #melissa schemmenti x you #revelation

[janeyseymour]

Am I writing a song fic that’s going to have not one, not two, but three songs intertwined into it? Yeah. You’re welcome.

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

[cissyenthusiast010155]

Mel’s Terms of Endearment Headcanons ~Melissa Schemmenti xFem Girlfriend!Reader

It struck me that since Melissa is Italian, there could be some great headcanons for nicknames for her girlfriend. I found this page, that was helpful on Italian terms of endearment. And so, I bring you these headcanons: (Also, this is by no means an exhaustive list of the nicknames I think Melissa would use)

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: implied NSFW, lots of fluff, blushing, light teasing, terms of endearment, pet names, nicknames, kissing, PDA, jealousy, implied exhibitionist kink, implied strap-on fucking, body adoration, rough menstrual cycle, implied smut, quick heated kiss, comforting, little angst, fluffy fluff fluff, etc.

Enjoy (:

Hun’

Hun’ is for most public situations. This is Mel’s across the board term of endearment when there are others around.

“Hey Hun’…?” Melissa called out from her classroom to you passing in the hallway.

You feet immediately swiveled to the sound of your girlfriend summoning you. You popped your head into the classroom full of kids and your favorite red head.

“Yeah, what’s up, Mel?” You lovingly chirped.

The woman swayed over to you.

“I think I left some copies for my class on the printer… Would you mind watching my class while I go grab them?” She gently asked, batting her eyelashes at you.

You chuckled lightly and blushed.

You couldn’t ever deny this woman anything…

“I’m going to the office anyway, let me grab your copies for you…” you answered.

Melissa’s face lit up and a smirk plastered her face.

“Love ya…!” She cooed, quiet enough for none of the kids to hear.

“You too, baby…” you replied in a hushed tone, turning around and making your way to the office for the red head.

~~~

Babe

Babe is a higher level of Hun’. Mel uses it sometimes in public, and it’s a tad more affectionate. This her go-to if she wants to establish that your hers…

Barbara had a teachers aid this year. Not that’s he needed it, no, not at all. But Barbara had volunteered to take the sweet girl on, so that she could learn a bit about teaching first hand.

She was young, like you. She was actually younger than you, but closer in age than you and Melissa. And she immediately took to liking you.

A little too much in Melissa’s opinion…

Melissa was at lunch per usual, and she was taking rather harsh stabs at her salad.

“Melissa, Dear, now what has that salad done to you…?” Barbara teased lightly, but also genuinely curious and concerned for her colleague.

“Your new teachers aid…” The red head grumbled.

“What are you—” Barbara began, but her eyes got distracted at you in the hallway.

You were just trying to walk to the break room, when the young woman stepped in front of you. You yelped slightly. She began talking to you and very obviously flirting a bit.

It’s not that she was horrible… Your heart simply belonged to someone else. But she had taken you so aback and was talking so much, you barely got a word in. From the corner of your eye, you could see Barbara and Melissa watching.

You could feel Melissa’s hard and intent gaze…

And before you knew it, the red head was up from her seat and beside you. She linked her arm around yours and looked to you.

“Don’t mean to interrupt…”

She most definitely did.

“But I need your help, Babe… In my classroom. Now.” She gritted out with the most fake smile.

She practically dragged you back to her classroom, closed the door, and slammed you against it. Her lips smashed against yours. You moaned lightly at her fervor.

“Mel… we’re in public…” you panted.

“Don’t Care… she can’t have you… your mine…” she rambled into the kiss.

You chuckled lightly and took the woman by the cheeks, meeting her gaze.

“Baby, im yours. Only yours. No one else’s.” You reassured your girlfriend.

This seemed to calm her down a bit.

“Alright…” she sighed.

“Good.”

You smiled lightly and gave her a peck on the lips.

“But I get first dips on the strap when we get home…” she murmured.

You dropped your jaw for dramatic effect and swatted the red head. This led to both of you chuckling and laughing your way happily back to the break room.

~~~

Cutie

Cutie is reserved for Melissa’s sweet and tender moments or her term for you when she’s edging you in or out of your subspace. This one is not said in public as much, it’s more of a private, little nickname that never fails to make you blush…

You sat on the couch, cradling yourself, a tub of ice cream at your side, and the tv on. You had called out of work today, because of your cramps. They were the worst sometimes. At best, you were in constant, stabbing pains, but still able to walk. At worst, they completely incapacitated you.

At 6, your red headed girfriend walked through the door. Her eyes immediately met your hurting frame. She put her stuff down, taking her jacket off, and made her way over to you on the couch. She placed the ice cream on the living room table and you whimpered slightly.

But you sighed out in content as the red head moved you to lay in her lap. She began stroking your hair and moving down your frame. Eventually, your eyes moved from the tv screen to Mel’s. Your eyes were glossy and looked exhausted.

“Hey Baby…” Melissa gently cooed.

“Hi…” your hoarse throat managed to get out.

“Haven’t slept…?”

You shook your head. The red head hummed in response, continuing to caress your frame.

Another thing about your period… It made your hormones wild. It was like a heat…

You could feel your core already warming up in need, and your hips began to move instinctually into your girlfriends lap. You then felt her hands pick you up, so that you were sitting in her lap.

“Want me to take care of ya…?” She lovingly asked.

You pouted with your lips and eyes, nodding eagerly. Melissa chuckled lightly at how adorable you were.

“Such a hopeless Cutie, aren’t ya…?” She softly purred.

You bit your lip and nodded. She then began taking off the oversized hoodie, exposing your chest to the woman. Her eyes widened at your top naked half.

Damn, she would never get tired of your body…

~~~

Amore (love)

Amore is when Mel is feeling romantic or wants to express her commitment to you. This is to remind you and her of your partnership and her Italian roots. This is for more intimate, loving moments, and is used less, but on occasion in public.

It was date night.

Every Friday, you and your red headed girlfriend set aside everything for date night. With both of you working, you had found it tricky to get time with each other. Date night was one solution to this dilemma.

You walked through the front door and were immediately met with the aroma of Mel’s fabulous cooking.

She must have beaten you home…

You set down your things and made your way into the kitchen. The red head was standing by the counter, making a sauce of some sorts. You came up from behind and wrapped your arms around the woman. Melissa immediately relaxed at your touch.

“Heyyy Amore…” she hummed.

“Hi Baby…” you whispered, beginning to lovingly pepper kisses along her neck and shoulders.

“Watcha making…?” You curiously asked.

“Ravioli…” Melissa hummed.

You hummed in delight at the red heads words.

“I’ll set the table…!” You chirped, making Melissa chuckle lightly.

Once the table has been set, and Melissa had brought over the food, you two could properly eat. But before you both went to sit down, you stopped the red head by the side of the table, lovingly connecting your lips to hers. She caringly met your lips. You both hummed happily into each others lips. But as soon as the kiss was getting heated, your girlfriend pulled away.

“Later Amore, Let’s eat first…” she cooed.

You bit your lip, blushing lightly, and nodded in agreement. You both then sat down and enjoyed your meal, discussing each others days and such.

Later indeed…

~~~

Cucciola (cub/baby)

Cucciola is used by Mel for sweet, intimate moments where she somehow has the upper hand, power, something over you. It’s very loving like Amore. But also on the other hand, this is the nickname for her replacement for Baby. Melissa uses this in more private occasions and less in public, but when she does use it in public, it never fails to make you blush.

Melissa waltzed into the break room and sat down next to Barbara.

“Well you seem awfully chipper today, dear…” Barb hummed.

Melissa had a big smile plastered on her face as she nodded.

“Got my leftover lasagna from the weekend with me…!” She quipped.

But as the red head went to open her lunch bag, she realized it wasn’t hers… It was yours… She internally smacked herself in the face. A frustrated groan left the woman’s lift.

“What’s wrong?” Barbara asked.

“Accidentally swapped my lunch with Y/N’s…” she grumbled, packing your salad back up and standing up.

“Be right back…!” She sighed.

Melissa walked down the hallways until she reached your classroom. She knocked lightly, hating to interrupt you as you were finishing up your class. You came to the door, your face brightening at the sight of your girlfriend.

“Hey Baby… What’s up…?” You whispered.

“Our lunches seem to be swapped.” She spoke in a low tone, showing you your lunch bag, “Be a doll and grab mine, Cucciola…?”

Your breath hitched lightly at the nickname and blushed. You nodded and immediately went to your desk and grabbed Melissa’s lunch, bringing it back to the door.

“Thank you, Cucciola.” She sighed in relief, “You’re a lifesaver…”

She gave you a kiss on the cheek and left, leaving you light headed and flustered.

~~~

Cucciolina (little cub/baby)

Cucciolina is close to Cucciola, except it’s used at an even more extreme of when Mel wants to show her being above you in some way. It’s also a very soft term of endearment. This is rarely used in public, unless Melissa is purposely teasing you somehow.

You were cuddled up with your red headed girlfriend on the couch when the oven timer started blaring through the room.

Your face lit up with excitement and giddiness, and you practically jumped off Melissa’s lap, running into the kitchen. You could already smell it… Mel’s famous baked ziti.

“Wait, Amore!! Be careful, it’s hot—!!” The woman warned with a shout to you in the kitchen.

But you did not head her advice. No, you were too excited. Melissa got up from the couch with a chuckle. She heard a little bit of clattering and then silence. She made her way into the kitchen, only to find you sitting on the counter, your face contorted in pain and your hand cradling three of your fingers. Tears threatened to form.

The red head immediately rushed over to you, checking you up and down to see the extent of your injuries.

“Cucciolina, what happened??” She spoke, her tone laced with care and concern.

You looked at the woman with your lips trembling slightly. She then moved her focus to your face and fingers, watching a silent tear escape your eyelid.

“I… too hot… didn’t think… Mel…hurts…” you whimpered, in pain but also embarrassed that you hadn’t listened to Melissa, and a few more tears escaped your eyes.

She took your three fingers to examine the damage, and she wasn’t going to lie, you had burned yourself pretty badly. Melissa took you in her embrace lovingly, comforting you.

“I’m here, Cucciolina, don’t you worry… It’s okay to cry… I’ll take care of you.” She cooed.

You nodded with more tears falling down your cheeks and running down your chin. The red head proceeded to kiss your tears away. She then went to the oven, turned it off, and went over to the freezer to grab some ice. She wrapped the ice around a towel and wrapped that around your finger.

Melissa then scooped you up and carried you back to the couch, laying you in her lap. You snuggled into the woman’s embrace. Silence took the room, except for your occasional whimpers and silent tears. The red head eventually began caressing your form, running her fingers through your hair and stroking your spine lovingly.

“Mel…? Can I have some baked ziti…?” You eventually whispered.

This made the Melissa chuckle lightly.

“Sure, Amore. I’ll get you some.” She cooed.

~~~

Melissa Schemmenti Masterlist

#Mel Schemmenti #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary #lisa ann walter #bisexual #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti smut #melissa Schemmenti fluff #melissa Schemmenti angst #melissa schemmenti fanfiction #Melissa Schemmenti fanfic #abbott elementary fluff #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary season 2 #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary x reader #abbott elementary fandom #Lisa Ann Walter character #abbott elementary angst #lisa ann walter x reader #abbott elementary spoilers #abbott elementary season 1 #abott elementary #abbot elementary #w/w #w/w smut #w/w romance #w|w writing #bisexual fanfiction #bisexual woman

[s-ublimewrites]

family pulled from the flood (melissa schemmenti x f!reader)

synopsis: melissa finally feels okay confronting that part of herself. as always, you're right there

words: ~1.5k

warnings: swearing, struggles with sexuality, alcohol, happy ending tho dw not unleashing full whump

note: as the resident gay friend, i've received the 'how did you know you like girls?' text so many times in my life. this is an homage to that - because i love it every damn time<3 title from the end of love by florence + the machine

Saturday nights, for you, are generally spent in a sea of your students' paperwork with a glass of whiskey in hand and an embarrassing amount of Wife Swap playing on the television. Tonight is no exception.

It's cold outside and freezing rain slaps against your window, making you shiver despite the warmth of your bedroom.

You're just about to take that first sip of amber liquid, eager to let the warmth settle you from the inside out, when a loud bang bang bang sounds from your front door. You take a few seconds to extract yourself from the vast expanse of Of Mice and Men analyses, and the knocking turns into frantic doorbell-ringing.

"I'm com- oh ow, fucking Christ," you swear, catching your ankle on the coffee table in your rush to stop your visitor from knocking your door down. "Coming! Be right there, hang on!"

You yank the door open, prepared to chew out your stupid fucking neighbor Gene for bothering you at 10 o'clock at night over parking, like, half an inch too close to his precious 2003 Ford Taurus.

The door swings open, though, and you're met with a shivering, soaked-to-the-bone redhead.

"Melissa?! The fuck are you doing here? Christ, woman!" You seize her by her leather jacket's soggy sleeve and yank her inside your apartment.

"Y'know," she shrugs, dripping icy water onto your hardwoods while she kicks her boots off, "was in the neighborhood."

You roll your eyes.

"Okay, you can tell me the truth after you've escaped hypothermia. Coulda shot me a text instead of freezing your ass off out there," you admonish.

You lead Melissa to your room, deposit her on your bed, and make a mental note to apologize to your students for the water-stained papers you'll have to return on Monday. Melissa picks at the skin around her thumbs while you root through your broad selection of sweatshirts.

"Didn't really plan on comin'," she says quietly, probably the quietest you've ever heard her. "Went for a drive to clear my head, and, well... Then I was in your driveway."

When you obtain a sweatshirt and turn to look at her, she's looking at her lap. "What could have been bad enough to force you outta the house in this weather?"

Green eyes flick up to meet yours and she opens her mouth like she's going to answer, but then she points at the well-loved Flyers hoodie in your hands. "That for me?"

You decide to let it go for now and relinquish the sweatshirt with a nod. For good measure, you snag the whiskey glass off of your bedside table and press it into her free hand. "This, too."

Melissa's mouth quirks into a half smile. "Knew I ended up in the right place. Thanks, hon."

The nickname makes you warmer than the liquor ever could have.

You give her some privacy to change and use the opportunity to pour yourself (another) glass of whiskey. You then plant yourself on the sofa, knee bouncing anxiously.

Melissa is clearly struggling with something, something big. Something that really matters to her. And you're friends - friends go to one another with problems, right? Something about it nags at you, though. It feels bigger - like Melissa doesn't just want any friend; like she sought you out specifically. When was the last time you ever 'just ended up' in someone's driveway?

More importantly: when was the last time Melissa had an important problem and sought out anyone who wasn't Barb?

You don't have time to ponder that. Melissa emerges from your bedroom decked in black and orange, feet bare, glass in hand. Her damp hair is pulled back and her eyes are soft as she joins you on the sofa and tucks her feet up underneath her. When you pull the throw from the back of your couch and toss it at her, she ensures you both have equal halves draped over your laps.

Now that she's warm and settled, there's no avoiding the matter at hand.

"Melissa?" you keep your voice soft. You shift to face her and your knee nudges hers under the blanket, and she doesn't move away. In fact, she barely notices you at all. Her eyes are distant, her head propped up by her unoccupied hand, her teeth worrying at her lower lip.

"Mel," you try again, and this time she jerks her head toward you as if she'd forgotten you were there. "Mel, are you okay?"

"Yeah," she says too quickly, nodding, before pausing. "No. Kinda? I dunno, I just-"

Melissa Schemmenti exists in such a permanent state of bravado in your mind that it never occurred to you that it could be false. Your heart clenches and you fight the urge to take her face in your hands and remind her that she's perfect. Instead, you let the silence hang between you, giving her space to continue.

Melissa looks at you properly for the first time all night. Her voice wavers when she speaks. "How did you know that you're into girls?"

Oh. You don't know what you expected, but it wasn't that. You didn't allow yourself to hope it could be that.

"I was young," you start. "Middle school. I cried so hard that I threw up when my best friend started dating this kid in the grade above us. I wondered why I wasn't enough for her. Then I realized that maybe I had a crush on her. And I'd never been more terrified."

"What did you do?"

You snort. "Freaked out for another four years until my next best friend kissed me after junior prom."

She's quiet again. You've decided that Melissa's loudness is your favorite thing about her.

You swallow hard. "Are you... asking for a friend?"

Melissa gazes back at you, eyes watery and voice raw. "I'm askin' for me."

"Okay," you say, and she nods, and neither of you speak again for a little while.

You've gotten questions like hers before, from others. You usually know what to tell them, how to guide them through it, but this is Melissa. Her trust, so fragile, is cradled in your hands and you're terrified of making the wrong move, of cracking its thin shell.

"Tell me what you're feeling." You're asking for more trust and you know it. You hope your sincerity is evident enough that Melissa doesn't flee from the conversation altogether.

Melissa thinks for a moment, and you're patient.

"I feel so fuckin' stupid, Y/N," she admits, and the tears in her eyes spill over. You feel your own eyes fill at the sight. "Who makes it to my age and doesn't fuckin' know who they're into?"

When you scooch closer, she lets you. You both sit criss-crossed, facing one another, and your legs press up against hers.

"You are not stupid, Melissa," you say earnestly.

She rolls her eyes, and when her hand comes up to swipe angrily at her tears, you intercept it and weave your fingers into hers.

"You're not," you repeat. "Mel, something is telling me you didn't have an awful lot of people encouraging you to explore your sexuality throughout your life. It's okay that it's only happening now."

Melissa doesn't reply. Her eyes rest on your joined hands, on your thumb that traces light arcs over hers. But she's listening, so you continue.

"I'm really proud of you, Melissa," you tell her, and that makes her head snap up so she can meet your gaze.

"What? Why?"

"It's hard telling people at first," you explain, "and the first one is the biggest hurdle. But you did it, and I'm proud of you."

She swallows. "I feel like I can tell you anything and you're gonna make me feel better about it."

You squeeze her hand. "You can always tell me anything, Mel. What else do you need from me? How else can I help you?"

"Just... tell me it's gonna be okay. Tell me how super fun being gay is and that during pride we're gonna get super drunk and slash a cop car's tires or somethin'."

You grin. "Well, duh. We can also do that on alternating Tuesdays if you really want to."

Melissa finally laughs and it sets your heart alight. "Thanks, hon."

"It is going to be okay, Melissa. Just trust me on that one."

"I do," she says easily, "I trust you with stuff I haven't trusted anyone with in a long time."

"Like your family's sauce recipe?"

"Not in writing, but yes," Melissa confirms. "But with the big stuff, too. Life stuff."

You grin. "It's an honor and a privilege, Melissa Schemmenti."

There's this look in her eye, one you can't quite place. She sets her glass down on the coffee table and steals your glass to repeat the action.

Melissa all but crawls into your lap to hug you, and you happily let her. She relaxes most of her weight against you, forehead pressed against your shoulder. You dont mention it when you feel the collar of your shirt grow damp, you just let her sniffle against your t-shirt and smooth your hands over her back.

You both know there will have to be more to this conversation, but that can wait. For now, this is more than enough.

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti fanfiction #abbott elementary fanfiction #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary #lisa ann walter

[thesapphictimelady]

Ad Astra Per Aspera

Word Count: 2.6K

TW: Implied previous domestic abuse, references to alcohol

A/N: Been working on this for like 2 months lol. Not proofread at all, but I had fun with it. Comments are appreciated :) Hope you enjoy!

“Hi, I’m looking for principal Coleman?”

The red head leaning against the desk turned, “Yeah, she’s not here today.”

“That can’t be right. I’m supposed to be meeting with her today. It is Thursday, right? I know my head isn’t always screwed on right but I was sure it’s Thursday.”

“Yeah, it is. Wait, are you the one with the dumb name?”

“E-excuse me?”

The red head tossed her hair, “Ava told me there was someone coming in with a stupid name and I should welcome her and “show her the ropes” and that she’d be helping in my classroom.”

“My name’s Cassiopeia,” she said, shuffling her things around to shake the older woman’s hand.

The older woman scoffed, ignoring her hand, “The hell kind of name is that? Nah, I’m calling you Cassie. And that’s how you should introduce yourself. The kids’ll end up calling you Pee or something. Come on, I’ll take you to the break room.”

“I don’t think I caught your name,” Cassie said, trying to keep up with her long strides.

“Yeah, that’s cause I didn’t give it to ya,” she swung open the door to the break room, “I found fresh meat looking for Ava,”

“Melissa Ann Schemmenti, you know we don’t speak about our colleagues like that!”

Melissa shrugged and took a seat next to the other teacher, “Sorry Barb, just callin’ it like I see it,”

Barb swatted Melissa’s arm and turned to face Cassiopeia, “It’s nice to meet you dear, I’m Barbara Howard, I teach Kindergarten”

“My name’s Cassiopeia. It’s nice to meet you.”

Melissa groaned and pointed at the young woman, “Didn’t I say to introduce yourself as Cassie? I wasn’t kiddin’.”

“Jacob Hill!” another teacher blurted from by the fridge, “I’m Jacob Hill. I teach history. I like your name. Cassiopeia, She was the queen of Ethiopia according to Greek Mythology. Her daughter Andromeda was saved from a sea monster by the hero Perseus. Did you know-”

“Jacob that’s enough,” Barbara said, gesturing towards a chair for Cassiopeia, “I’m sure she knows the history of her own name.”

Cassie sat and smiled gratefully at Barbara before she reached into her bag to retrieve her notebook and a pair of earbuds, deciding it was best to just sit quietly until the kids arrived.

“Pineapple absolutely goes on pizza,” Jacob said, picking up the conversation they had been having before her arrival.

“Not this again,” Melissa groaned, “It does not go on pizza!”

“It does! It’s been put on pizza since 1962! Contrary to the term that’s frequently used, it actually isn’t from Hawaii though. It was created in Ontario, Canada. The man who made it was actually Greek and-“

“Hey, new kid,” Melissa interrupted, “What kind of pizza do you like”

“I actually haven’t had pizza in a long time,” Cassie said, pulling her earbuds out.

“Oh don’t tell me you don’t like pizza!”

“No, I do! My…my ex used to make homemade pizza for date night. She was not a good person. Which is why I’m here. Miles away from anyone I know.” Cassie shifted and tugged at her sleeves, making sure the yellowing bruises from the night she had left were still covered.

The room stayed quiet for a few minutes before Barbara finally said, “Well now you know us!”

“Yeah,” Melissa said, her emerald eyes trained on Cassie, “You know us. And based on what Ava told me, you’re in my room for now,” she glanced down at her watch, “So grab a cup of coffee and let’s head over there now so ya know where stuff is. We’ll see youse at lunch.”

Melissa patted Barbs hand as she stood and grabbed her coffee mug, holding the door open for Cassie.

“Good luck, Cassiopeia!” Jacob called

Cassie waved at the other teachers, hastily gathering her things and following the redhead out the door.

“So you don’t got anybody out here?” Melissa asked as she flipped the classroom light on.

“No ma’am. I don’t know anyone here.”

“Why Philly? I mean, other than the obvious.”

Cassiopeia laughed softly, setting her things down on a desk, “I saw a job posting for Abbott and just…packed up my life and came here. I needed a change.”

Melissa nodded slowly, setting her mug down and looking the new teacher up and down, “Well listen kid, we got recess duty this week. I don’t know where you’re from but it gets hot. You might wanna reevaluate that grandma sweater.”

Cassie flushed and tugged the sleeves down over her hands, “Thanks but I’ll be fine.”

Melissa hummed thoughtfully before shrugging, “Suit yourself. You can put your stuff back here. How do you feel about science?”

The morning went smoothly and before she knew it, she and Melissa were standing outside watching the kids recess. The older woman had abandoned her leather jacket in her classroom and tied her hair up in a ponytail.

“Aren’t you hot?” Melissa asked, fanning herself with one hand.

“I’m fine,” Cassiopeia lied, pulling her hair off her neck in an effort to cool down.

“At least let me cuff your sleeves!” Melissa said, reaching for Cassie.

“No! No, I’m fine.”

“Kid, it’s a million degrees and you’re wearing a Mr. Rogers sweater!”

“I’m fine,” Cassie insisted.

Melissa sighed, before turning back to the kids “5 more minutes my little eagles! Ms. Schemmenti is too hot so we’re going to go inside.”

“Yes Ms. Schemmenti!” the kids called back to her.

“They really like you,” Cassie said.

“Yeah, well, the older ones had me when they were in second grade so they know the drill. We’ll take them to the gym and then head to the break room for lunch. By the way, you can eat the school lunch, but I do NOT recommend doing that.”

Cassiopeia laughed, “Thanks for the heads up, but I don’t usually eat lunch”

“Whadya mean you don’t eat lunch. You gotta eat”

“I eat breakfast and dinner! I’m just never hungry at lunch”

Melissa shook her head, “You can have something from my lunch”

Cassie opened her mouth to argue but the redhead was quick to cut her off, “It’s not up for debate kid. Alright my little eagles it’s time to line up!”

All the kids came running over to the door, lining up single file to follow Melissa inside and to the gym. Cassie stayed at the back of the line, closing the door behind them. Once the kids were inside the gym with the other recess duty teachers, Melissa dragged Cassie to the break room.

“Cassiopeia! You’re still here!” Jacob cheered.

“Where else would I be?” Cassie laughed.

“Melissa has a habit of running people off,” Mrs. Howard said, smiling fondly at the redhead who had sat down next to her.

“I do not!” Melissa said, pulling food out of her lunchbox, “Only the incompetent ones. New kid is smart.”

Cassie flushed and went to go perch on one of the windowsills but Melissa stopped her.

“Where do you think you’re goin? I told you it’s not up for debate.”

“Ms. Schemmenti, really, I’m fine!”

“Sit.” Melissa said sternly, grabbing a paper plate from the cabinet and putting some ziti on it.

“I wouldn’t try to argue dear,” Mrs. Howard warned when Cassie opened her mouth, “It’s better to just do what she tells you.”

Cassiopeia sighed and sat in the seat the older woman had indicated, taking the plate of ziti, “Thank you, Ms. Schemmenti.”

“Don’ worry about it kid.”

“So, Cassiopeia,” Barbara said, “How was your morning? Was Melissa nice to you?”

“Ms. Schemmenti was very kind to me. And the kids are wonderful! I don’t know how she manages to have such a well behaved class when she’s juggling two different grades!”

“The kids know better than to mess with me,” the redhead said, glancing up from her phone.

Cassie smiled and took a bite of the ziti, “Holy shit this is amazing!”

“It’s my nana’s recipe,” Melissa said, “She used to…” She trailed off, brow furrowed, “Did youse hear that?”

The room went silent as all the teachers listened to a timid knock at the door. Melissa jumped up to open the door. One of the older girls was standing on the other side, sniffling.

“What’s wrong hon?” Melissa asked her, bending down slightly so she could whisper in the redheads ear, “Gotcha. Let’s go to my classroom, okay? Hey, new kid, I might need you and your huge bag. Follow us.”

Cassiopeia grabbed her purse and was quick to catch up with them.

“What’s going on?” she asked once inside the classroom.

The younger girl looked nervously at Melissa.

“It’s okay hon, Miss Cassie is gonna be more help than me. She started her period. Nurse isn’t here and I don’t need the products anymore. Got anything in that bag of yours?”

“Oh! Oh of course, give me a second,” Cassie dug through her purse, producing pads and a small heating pack, “Do you need anything else? Tylenol?”

“I need new pants,” the student whispered.

“I’m afraid that’s the one thing I don’t carry with me,” Cassie said apologetically, “Is there somewhere we can get those?”

Melissa sighed, “Yeah, Ava’s office. But she has that place booby trapped since the last time I- actually I think that’s not important right now.” Melissa said, throwing a look towards the cameraman right outside the door who quickly ducked out of sight.

“That’s okay,” Cassie said, “What’s your name sweetheart?”

“Kya,”

“Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do Kya. We’re gonna tie my sweater around your waist to hide the stain and then Ms. Schemmenti is gonna give your mom a call to bring you some new pants, okay?”

“Okay,” Kya whispered.

“We can use Barb’s bathroom,” Melissa said, “She won’t mind.”

Cassie nodded and unbuttoned her sweater, folding it and gently tying it around Kya’s waist, “There. Now go with Ms. Schemmenti and she’ll get you taken care of.”

Kya took the pads out of her hand and followed Melissa out of the room. Cassie busied herself putting things back into her bag, completely missing the look the other teacher had given her. A breeze came through the open window and she shivered, rubbing at her arms before she froze.

“Fuck,” she whispered, “Please tell me I have a back up sweater somewhere in my bag!”

Cassie turned her bag over on the desk, searching the contents for something, anything she could use to keep the bruises on her arms covered.

“So, new kid,”

Cassie jumped, whirling around to see Melissa leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed.

“Hi, Ms. Schemmenti! I-I didn’t hear you coming!” Cassie quickly tucked her arms behind her.

“Uh huh.” Melissa said, walking into the classroom, “Thanks for your help with Kya. You sure were protective of that sweater all morning but you didn’t hesitate to give it to her.”

“I remember middle school. She didn’t need anyone teasing her for the stain”

Melissa nodded thoughtfully, “Whatcha got behind your back?”

“Nothing!”

“So if I walked behind you, there wouldn’t be anything to see?”

“No, there’s nothing back there!”

“And there’s nothing, say, on your wrists?”

“No ma’am.”

“Well then I’m sure you have no issue going back to the break room with me.”

“Actually I think I’ll stay here and…start grading the science tests!”

The redhead frowned and shook her head, “What’re you hiding kid. Just show me. You’ve been hiding something all day.”

Cassiopeia swallowed the lump in her throat and brought her arms back to the front, looking anywhere but Melissa’s face.

“Kid,” the older teacher whispered.

“I don’t want your pity. That’s why I kept them covered. I’m completely fine.”

“Hon…”

Cassie looked up in surprise at the gentleness of the teachers words. Melissa’s emerald eyes were soft and she gently took Cassie’s arm in her hand.

“Hon, this isn’t nothing,”

“I don’t want anyone’s pity, Ms. Schemmenti. I’m going to go home. I don’t have a back up sweater and it’s bad enough that you’ve seen them.”

“What-?”

“What happened?” Cassie cut her off, not wanting to hear her ask, “My ex. I told you this morning she wasn’t a good person. She wasn’t too pleased with the news that I wanted to break up. Now please, let go,”

Melissa let go of Cassie’s arms, backing up so the teacher had space to grab her things, too stunned to stop her as she quickly left the classroom.

When Cassiopeia got home, she threw everything onto the couch before going to the small kitchen to retrieve a bottle of wine and a plastic cup. This was supposed to be a new beginning and already she had someone pitying her.

“I knew I should’ve pushed off my start date,” she muttered to the small apartment as she filled her cup and collapsed on the couch. It didn’t take long after draining the bottle that she fell into a fitful sleep, using her bag as a pillow

It was her phone ringing that woke her. She glanced at the screen and was immediately filled with dread when she saw the “Unknown number” on the caller ID. Hesitantly she accepted the call, sitting in silence while she waited for the caller to speak.

“Hello? New kid? You there?”

“Ms. Schemmenti? How did you get my phone number?”

“I know a guy. Listen, what do you like on your pizza?”

“What? Ms. Schemmenti it’s…it’s 3 in the morning! Why are you calling?”

The line was quiet for a moment before the redhead sighed, “Listen, I’m real sorry for pushin’ you today. I shouldn’t have made you tell me what the bruises were from. Let me make you a pizza to make up for it.”

Cassiopeia laughed softly, “This is a dream. A weird, alcohol induced dream.”

“No it’s not. Kid you can either tell me or I’ll show up with something random.”

“Show up? Are you driving right now?”

“Yeah, I had a late night. Are you decent? I’m almost at your place.”

“How do you know where I live??”

“Again, I know a guy. Are ya decent?”

“Yeah, I-I’m decent. Should I unlock the door or do you know a guy for that too?”

“Ha ha very funny kid.”

The call dropped, leaving Cassie alone in the dark again. She jumped up and started throwing things into the small closet, trying to make the tiny space look halfway decent, before giving up and instead throwing on an oversized sweater and unlocking the door.

Melissa had her arms completely full of grocery bags when she got to the door.

“Ms. Schemmenti what-”

Melissa pushed past her into the apartment, “I told ya, I had a long night. Where can I put this?”

Cassiopeia led her to the tiny kitchen, still not quite sure if she was awake or not. Melissa dropped her bags on the narrow counter and started pulling things out.

“Okay, what is going on? You don’t need to do all this, you apologized on the phone.”

“Trust me kid, that wasn’t enough. And your secret is safe with me. I told the others you were sick and I sent you home.”

“School starts in 4 hours.”

“Actually, the kids are off tomorrow so no one will care that you’re hungover and I haven’t slept. Trust me, Ava will be hungover as hell.”

Cassie sat down on one of the wobbly stools, “So you’re making me a pizza…as an apology?”

Melissa finally glanced over her shoulder at the younger woman, “Yeah, you got a problem with that?”

“No…I don’t think so.” Cassie put her head in her hands, “I think I’m too hungover for this,”

Melissa laughed and tossed her a bottle of aspirin, “Picked this up at the store. You probably need it more than I do”

Cassie took it gratefully, “Thank you, Ms. Schemmenti.”

“You’re welcome kid. Go lay down. I’ll take care of this and I’ll wake you when it’s time to head to school.”

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

[dianneking]

New teacher in town (Larissa Weems x Melissa Schemmenti)

Larissa Weems x Melissa Schemmenti.

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, spoilers for Wednesday S1 finale, mentions of past Larissa/Laurel, hints of past Morticia/Larissa, Larissa Weems Lives, Larissa Weems needs a hug, swearing, alcohol consumption.

Crossposted on ao3: link here!

The first thing that Larissa thinks as her eyes met the figure of the new hire – and she is not proud to admit it, not even to herself – is ‘Oh, fuck, not another redhead’. Fate has a way to be ironic sometimes, and this feels like someone somewhere is having a cosmic laugh at her expense.

"Oh wow. You sure are a whole lot of woman." There is something so trite about comments on her height that Larissa cannot help a sarcastic comeback from leaving her lips: "Is that so? I’ve never noticed.” The newcomer doesn’t seem offended by her impoliteness – as if she expected nothing less caustic as a retort – studying her with a calculating gaze.  

"Well you sure ain't Sicilian, not with those legs and pale face and white hair. Any chance you might be Italian?"

"I'm from Worthing."

"Is that in the South?"

"That's in Britain."

"Ah, such a sad country."

"Excuse me?"

"But it is! A sad, grey country with sad beige foods. No sun, no life, no spices…just sad. And you overcook pasta."

Larissa closes her eyes, pleading to a higher Being to grant her patience in this trying hour. Not Fate. She knows not to trust Her anymore.

"What brings you to Nevermore, Miss Schemmenti?"

"I felt like changing hang-outs."

"After twenty years in the same school?"

"Are you calling me old?"

"Miss Schemmenti, I simply find it hard to believe that someone would suddenly move states after staying for so long in one place just for a change of scenery."

"What's with the questioning? Are you with the cops? I'll have you know that my record is squeaky clean, I was always perfectly innocent."

"Miss Schemmenti, the last normie teacher we hired in this school tried to unleash an undead fire-wielding pilgrim on the students. You'll forgive me if I try to prevent any more suspicious characters from entering the staff."

She surely doesn't expect the redhead to burst into surprised laughter.

"Miss Schemmenti, I hardly think this is a laug–"

"An undead, fire-wielding pilgrim? That takes some guts to set up! Who was this person? Were they Sicilian?"

"Her name was Laurel Gates." Larissa hates how simply mentioning her makes the old wound reopen, the deep, dark stab of betrayal as painful as the day it was discovered.

"Hmmm, no Gates married into the Schemmenti family, that I know of. I must ask Nonna, she knows all the comings and goings."

"That is hardly going to make me trust you more, Miss Schemmenti."

"Look, blondie. It's not rocket science: you have a free teaching place and no teachers crazy enough to come to this lair of outcasts after half of it burned down in a mysterious accident. Not to even mention the string of murders before that. I, on the other hand, need to get away from Philly and lay low for a while. Also, I taught second graders in a public school. Outcast teenagers and undead pilgrims can't hold a candle to that in terms of scariness. As for the fire-wielding part, us Schemmentis have a rich history in firefighting. I’ll be okay."

As much as it pains Larissa, the woman has a point. She has all the paperwork in order to become the botanical sciences teacher, and she is the only one that has applied. In months. The board would have her head if she didn't hire her simply because she didn't trust her.

"Beggars can't be choosers."

It’s not the woman’s fault if her hair will give Larissa flashbacks to something she’s trying her best to bury.

Like she herself almost was.

"I knew you'd see reason. Also, you lot pay way better than Abbott's. Granted, working the streets paid better than Abbott's, too, so that's hardly an achievement."

—

"Do you even eat, Weems?"

Larissa tiredly looks up from her laptop. It is late – must be at least half past nine pm – and it feels like she’s drowning in emails and paperwork and ‘to the attention of the principal’ and ‘kind regards’. The last thing she needs today is the new teacher’s attitude.

"What now, Melissa?"

"It's Schemmenti to you, blondie."

"Very well, Miss Schemmenti, what seems to be the problem today?"

"Your eating habits, or lack thereof."

"I fail to see how that is any of your business."

"No wonder you are so cranky all the time if you don't eat properly. You're coming with me, let's go."

Larissa finds her hand being tugged and all she can think about for a minute is how warm Melissa's hand is in her own. By the time she gets her wits back, she is being unceremoniously dragged through the corridors to the teacher's quarters. The shared kitchen, specifically.

She can only look on, astounded as the small redhead – only slightly taller than Maril- than Laurel had been, and really, Larissa should stop thinking about her – manhandles into a chair, hands her a glass of red wine and starts flittering around the kitchen, pulling ingredients together and throwing them in pots and pans. Mechanically, Larissa takes a sip and can’t help the groan of delight that falls from her lips.

Melissa turns at the sound, and Larissa for a moment thinks she can see a tinge of redness dusted on her cheekbones, but maybe it’s a trick of the light, maybe it’s the steam from the boiling water in front of her, because the other woman’s mouth opens in a smirk, a spark of smugness dancing in her eyes, and there’s no hesitation in her voice as she asks: “You like the Nero d’Avola? I have a guy who gets it for me directly from Sicily… I can’t deal with all of those American reds. Too light, too easy. Sicilian reds instead, they make love to your tongue.”

The grin widens and Larissa cannot help but think of the disappointment brought to her by another kind of American red and how she hoped that this Sicilian red wasn’t going to get to her head. Or worse, her heart.  

She wouldn’t mind her making love to her tongue though.

“There you go, blondie. Eat up, there’s more if you want it.”

When Larissa takes the first bite of the pasta Melissa has set in front of her, she doesn’t groan. She moans.

And this time she’s sure she’s not imagining the faint blush that is coloring the redhead’s cheeks.

–

"Have you ever been with a woman, Weems?" They have drunk the whole bottle, and then another one, and as the ruby wine courses through their veins, loosening their tongues, their conversation has turned to more and more personal topics.

"If you're going to ask me personal questions, might as well call me Larissa."

"You do have a point there. Plus, I cooked for you. I guess we can switch to a first-name basis. The question still stands."

"I don't have the best track record with women, but yes, I've been with two of them."

"Now you make me want to know what happened." Melissa tops off her glass and Larissa thinks this could be a bad idea. But at the same time, she’s never had someone care enough to ask. Even with Marilyn – Laurel, damnit – they never seemed to have the time to talk about their past with each other. In retrospect the reason was pretty clear, but the damage had already been done.

"The first one killed someone who was already dying and dropped his body in front of me from a balcony, and ended up marrying the man who took the blame for that not-murder."

"Damn, that's hot."

Larissa's lips quirk up in a half-smile. Trust Melissa to say something like that, with no judgement, but a slightly awed air about her.

“Yeah, well, that’s your everyday fare here at Nevermore apparently. I told you that with your penchant for dramatics you’d fit right in.”

“No really. It’s like out of one of those love stories full of death and drama! Like the Carmen or something.” Her hands are in the air, wildly gesticulating as she tries to explain herself better. Larissa finds herself smiling at her enthusiasm. At least someone's getting some entertainment out of her own past mistakes.

“After that, all relationships must have seemed a little too tame.”

"Oh, I wouldn’t say that. The second one almost killed me."

“Oh come on, now who’s the one being overly dramatic?”

“Trust me, there’s no exaggeration here.” Larissa sips her wine, feeling its fullness on her tongue. She has never told anyone about Marilyn. It's still too raw. And she doesn't want to admit she has been blinded by her own feelings, and Nevermore has almost paid the price for it. She swallows the alcohol, trying to swallow the self-loathing with it as well.

"Is that a metaphor to say that she ruined your life?"

Larissa feels her own hand come up to play with the small scar to the side of her neck. It's almost invisible to the eye, nothing more than a circlet of lighter, tougher skin, but she can still feel it, the needle stabbing her neck, the burning of the poison being injected. The even stronger pain of betrayal. She swallows again and keeps her voice forcefully light.

"Oh no, I meant it quite literally. She injected nightshade in my neck."

Melissa gapes at her, her green eyes travelling to where her hand is still absentmindedly playing with the microscopic scar. She closes her mouth. Then she opens it up again, but no sound comes out.

"Don't tell me I managed to actually shut up the Melissa Schemmenti."

"No, Jesus. I just… and I thought my ex-husband was bad. This…this is another level of fucked up."

"That's me, I am a perfectionist. If I have a bad breakup, it's murder or nothing."

She tries to play it off with some self-deprecating humor, aware of the heaviness she had brought to the table. No wonder she never had a confidante. It was too much to unload on someone. She herself was too much, possibly.

“I’m so sorry, Larissa.” And suddenly she’s being enveloped in a hug by the other woman. Her arms are warm around her shoulders, and with Melissa standing beside her chair, Larissa’s face is buried in her fiery hair, and her body is soft and her perfume fills Larissa’s nostrils and–

–And suddenly, something breaks within Larissa and all the composure she had managed to keep since waking up in the hospital, since coming back to her rightful place at the head of Nevermore simply shatters.

Nevermore’s Principal starts sobbing into the new hire’s shoulder, soaking her leopard-print shirt with all the tears she had never allowed herself to shed. And it’s not the wine, and it’s not the pasta, and it’s not even the fact that Melissa’s hair is the same shade as Marilyn’s. What does Larissa in is the fact that for some unfathomable reason no matter her brashness and her harshness, Melissa cares.

Liked it? You can find all of my fanfiction on my fanfiction masterlist!

#larissa weems fanfiction #larissa weems #larissa weems x melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti fanfiction #abbott elementary fanfiction #wlw fanfiction #dianneking fanfiction #dragonmist fanfiction #wednesday (netflix) fanfiction #gwendoline christie fanfiction #lisa ann walter fanfiction #crossposted on ao3