#melissa schemmenti/reader
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Italian Flavors - Part 1
Summary: Reader meets Melissa Schemmenti at a local italian grocery store and quickly becomes attracted to her. Where this is going to go? I guess we'll find out together ;)
Note: this idea came to me out of nowhere and wrote it when i was very much not sober, so i apologize for any grammatical mistakes.
Warnings: None?
Words: 3k
You have been visiting the same grocery store since you moved to the neighborhood a few weeks ago. They had the best selection of vegetables in the area and the best brands of Italian food. You couldn’t find canned San Marzanos anywhere and this little store always had them in stock. You weren’t Italian yourself, just a big fan of their cuisine. You enjoyed learning new recipes and pasta has always been a guilty pleasure of yours. But the truth is, you have found another guilty pleasure, funnily enough, another Italian one.
The second weekend you went into the store, you were just browsing in the deli section when you spotted a beautiful redheaded woman fighting the worker over a kilo of salami. You couldn’t help but stare at her in amusement. “Something something… ripping me off…ain’t a fool..something something” is all you could hear. Not necessarily because she was out of earshot, but because you were so mesmerized by her, her attitude, her beauty, her curves, that you couldn’t hear a word. After a few seconds you realized you were staring and decided to keep doing your shopping. As you were standing by the produce aisle, you see the redhead walk out, her determined victorious walk after probably winning her argument. Who wouldn’t give her anything she wants? You say to yourself as you watch her sway her hips out of the establishment.
You go about your day as normal, finish your grocery shopping, pick up an iced coffee and there you go back to your “work from home” job. You sit in front of the computer responding to emails and going over your list of pending tasks and projects. You try to concentrate and be productive, but you can’t. Your mind is clouded by visions of that gorgeous stranger at the store. Her raspy voice echoing through your head. You shake your head as if doing that will get her out of there. You hope she is a regular at the store, you wish you could see her again.
You go about your week, smiling every time you remember the perfect stranger. You keep hoping next weekend you get to see her again. You wonder if you should go at the same time and decide that thats probably the best idea. Friday afternoon you head to the store, grocery shopping list in hand, searching for the ingredients you need to make your Italian dish of the weekend. You hope to be there for a long time, hopefully long enough to see her again. You browse every aisle slowly, constantly looking around, but nothing. You finished shopping .“It was just wishful thinking huh” you say to yourself as you start walking back to your car while carrying your groceries. They might be heavy but heavier was your disappointment. You are lost in your thoughts when you feel someone bump into you making you drop a bag, “I am so sorry, hon” the redhead says to you while helping you pick up your stuff. You don’t say anything, just stare at her as she screams to someone on the phone. “See Gary I just made a girl drop her stuff because you wont stop calling me and made me be late to my grocery shopping, stop calling me, you bozzo”.
“Boyfriend problems?” - you said and instantly regretted it.
Melissa looked at you as if you had asked her for her social security number. Her face immediately relaxing after realizing you were just an innocent girl who she had just inconvenienced. “Something like that, my ex” she gave you a soft smile as she started to talk away.
“Th- Thank you” - you said nervously and quickly realized it made no sense, she made you drop your stuff, what were you thanking her for? Her existence? Yes, but you can’t tell her that. That makes absolutely no sense.
Melissa chuckles, “Anytime, hon” - she says, as if she somehow understood what you meant.
You walk to your car with the biggest smile in your face. You got to see this beautiful woman again and you will go on to think about her for days to come. Hoping to run into her again sometime soon.
Weeks pass by and you stay with this woman very present in your mind, you stop going to the store every weekend, since you are scared of looking like a stalker, a cute one, but a stalker nonetheless. Instead you assume your role of the yearning lesbian, seeing her in every little thing you do, making every song about her.
It is a Tuesday afternoon and you have already finished your meeting for the day, so you decide to lay on the couch and watch Carol for the 20th time this week. A movie about an age gap relationship, who would have thought?
In that moment your phone rings, it is your best friend Laura, the person you were the closest to in this world and the whole reason you moved to Philly in the first place. She was raising her daughter Melanie by herself and you figured you could offer her some support, since the little girl was your world.
“Hi y/n, what are you doing other than thinking about this mystery woman?” - your best friend said in a mocking tone.
“Uh nothing much, why? - you say without humoring her comment.
“Can you please pick up Melanie at Abbott? I got tied up at work and I can’t make it. I am sorry I will make it up to you”.
“Nonsense, I am on my way”
“You are an angel y/n”
“Oh I know” - you say as you walk out of the door and make your way to Abbott Elementary, having no idea of the surprise that awaited for you at the school.
You arrive and park in the nearly empty parking lot, most of the students were already gone, since Laura didn’t call you until it was already way past the dismissing bell. You run inside the school, looking for your niece. You walk past a classroom and spot her. Sitting next to her, is her teacher. You can’t believe your eyes. You shake your head as if somehow she was a hallucination. “There is no way”, you say to yourself as you try to muster the courage to open the door. You take a deep breath and open the door.
“Hi, I am here for Melanie” - you say and your niece starts running towards you, your eyes moving away from the redhead in order to pick her up.
“Hi, I am y/n, Melanie’s auntie. Well I am her moms best friend but she is a niece to me” - you say to the redhead, her looking at you with an unreadable expression.
“I have seen you before, haven’t I?” - Melissa asks you raising her eyebrow.
“Uhm maybe? I live nearby” - you tell her trying to keep your cool and not immediately say “yes yes, you go to the same store as me and I have been hoping to see you every weekend since that time I watched you fight that guy in the deli over a kilo of salami. I have thought of you every day and I want nothing more than to run my hands all over you”.
She looks at you unsure, thats not it. She knows you from somewhere else.
“Ahhh I think I have seen you at Claudio’s, I go there all the time” - you tell her trying to keep your cool.
“Oh yes yes, you were the girl I ran into when my dumbass ex was trying to talk my ear off” - she says with a smile. “You italian?”
“No, just an italian fan”
“Is that so?” - she says raising her eyebrow and you realize how that might have come off.
“Of italian food, that is Ms.”
“Ms Schemmenti, Melissa” - she extends her hand for you to shake it and you can’t help but stare at how beautiful they are, her fingers, oh your mind is wandering. You gulp before you take it in yours and give her a soft handshake.
“Pleasure to officially meet you, Ms Schemmenti” - you say as you look into her beautiful emerald eyes, they look like they could hypnotize anyone, if you weren’t already under her spell, they would have done the trick.
“Well, I better go” - you say and start walking away as your niece waves good bye to her favorite teacher.
“Y/n?” - Melissa says and your entire body stiffens. “Hope to see you at Claudio’s soon” - she winks and gives you the most wicked smile.
You walk out of the building with the biggest smile on your face. “Melissa, Melissa” you repeat in your brain. Of course such a goddess has such a beautiful name. And she wants to see you again? Is she playing you? Does she mean it? Could she tell you like her? Who knows, but you are definitely showing up at Claudio’s this weekend.
On your drive back home you ask your niece all sorts of questions about her teacher. All her answers making her sound even more perfect. “I love Ms. Schemmenti. She seems tough but she is so sweet, she always helps me when I struggle with my math problems. She gives the best hugs but that is a secret. Only her little eagles know. She is so pretty too” - Melanie tells you.
“Yes, yes she is, munchkin” - you sigh to yourself, picturing how gorgeous she looked today.
____________________________________________________
Saturday came around and you just couldn’t wait for it to be time to go to the store. You knew it would probably be obvious that you were showing up just to see her but you couldn’t care less. You put on your favorite jeans with a tank top that makes your chest look irresistible. You wear your platforms docs and a leather jacket, even put on some make up. Is it too much for the grocery store? Perhaps, but you need to impress this woman. If not now, when?
You wanted to make Arancini, a delicious Sicilian appetizer that you loved eating back home in New York. Once again, you browse the aisles slowly, hoping to see Melissa, or Mel, like you were already calling her in your head. You were looking at the different types of rice, you bend down to pick up a packet of Arborio and as you reach for it, a raspy voice startles you.
“Making risotto, hon?” - the redhead says, as she looks up and down at your figure, maybe it was you being hopeful but it seemed as if she was checking you out.
“Arancini, actually’ - you say with a smile.
“Oh woman after my own heart” - she says as she gets closer to you.
“I have actually never made them, but they remind me of home and I want to try and make some similar to the ones I used to eat back in Brooklyn” - you shared with the redhead, suddenly realizing you might have overshared and she might not care at all about your nostalgia and homesickness.
“Lucky for you I have a really good recipe, I can share it with you” - Melissa gets closer to you and firmly grabs your arm “If you share it with anyone I’ll come find you”. - You freeze, not in fear but in want, shivers running through your body at the contact.
She lets go and there was again, that wicked smile, she winks at you and gestures for you to follow her.
“Oh, that would be amazing” - your eyes light up and she can see how happy her offer made you.
She helps you find all the ingredients you need for her recipe. Browsing around this small grocery store with this beautiful woman seemed like a dream to you. Her scent, her voice, her smile, the passion with which she talks about food. She explains step baby step what to do and how to do it, giving you tips and tricks in order to make the most delicious dish. You struggle to retain the information, too focused on the way her glossy lips move. It doesn’t go without notice but Melissa pretends she doesn’t realize it as she continues walking down the aisles and throwing things in your cart. After half an hour or so the shopping is done and your heart feels heavy. You are going to pay and go away and probably not see her in a while, even if it is another week, it sounds like too long for you.
“You are all set, hon” - she gives you a smile that makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter. “Here, give me your phone, I’ll give you my number in case you need any help with the recipe or to thank me when you have a food orgasm thanks to it”.
“Orgasm orgasm orgasm” - the only word sounding in your head, the way it fell of her mouth had your mind going places it shouldn’t.
“Hey, went on a trip there?” - Melissa snaps your fingers at you bringing you back to reality.
“Ah yes, my phone” - you said handing her the device and watching attentively as she puts her digits on your phone.
“Well, thank you, Ms. Schemmenti, I’ll make sure to let you know how they came out”
“I’ll be waiting, hon” - she says as she smiles at you and you stand there, frozen, blocking the line with your cart, the cashier complaining and telling you to move.
“Oh, yes, I better go, bye Melissa”
“Bye, gorgeous”
Gorgeous? She called you gorgeous. Your eyes widen and you quickly get back to your cart, you want to scream but you don’t want anyone to see you. She called you gorgeous? Whoa.
You get back home, ready to start on her recipe, looking at your phone, your head doing mental gymnastics, trying to figure out what excuse you could use to text her. You figure you should cook first, not be too intense, you just saw her 15 mins ago for fucks sake.
You follow step by step her directions, so scared of messing it up, as if she were to try them. You have never been happier to cook anything. You wonder how they would taste if she were to make them. You move quickly through all the steps, wanting to finish as soon as possible. One because you want to try this deliciousness and two, because you cant wait to text her.
You finish them and you gotta say you are quite proud of yourself, you don’t know how they taste yet, but they look really good. You wonder whether you should try them first and let her know, or whether you should send her a picture. You settle for a bolder idea, quite harmless if she doesn’t like you in that way, but kinda flirty if she does feel attracted to you.
You retouch your make up and push up your boobs, feeling a little slutty but thats the point, no?
You set your phone in front of you and your plate of arancini. Taking one of the balls in your hand, you said to the camera. “Well, I figured that after giving me your secret recipe, you at least deserved a live reaction.” You smile to the camera and bring the ball to your mouth, your teeth parting the crunchy exterior as its inside melted in your mouth. “Mmmmmhhhh”, you let out a low moan, as an expression of the pure joy and satisfaction that bite gave you. The delicious taste of the dish was really flooding your senses, your eyes rolling and mouth falling open, but you remember you are recording yourself for her and quickly regain your composure. “Well, I guess, you are going to be able to tell that was incredible. I am going to have to ask you for more recipes”. You stop recording and wonder if that was too much, hell your face while taking a bite of the food looks pornographic. A wave of courage takes over you and you press send, then you get hit by a wave of anxiety.
It has been ten minuted and Melissa has not replied. You pace around your house, slowly losing your mind, your body shaking.
A few seconds later, your phone lights up. The name Melissa Schemmenti popping on your screen.
“Oh my, sweetheart, if you make those faces every time you eat my food, I am going to have to invite you over for dinner.”
“Anytime, gorgeous” - You said as you throw your phone on the couch, you figure if she called you that, there is no harm in using it on her.
“I am going to fill you up so well”
Your eyes widen at her reply, oh it is on!
“Can’t wait, Schemmenti” - you type as you bite your lower lip and run around of pure excitement.
“My place, Saturday, at 7pm”
“Wouldn’t miss the chance to get a taste of your flavors.”
You send the last text and your face is red as a tomato, you can’t believe what you just said but you are so glad you did. Your mind is racing with thoughts about what is possibly going to happen this Saturday. How did everything escalate so quickly? Was everything on your mind? She was flirting right? RIGHT? You sigh and decide to try and distract yourself. Whatever it was, you will get to spend an evening with the redhead.
#wlw fanfic#abbott elementary#melissa schemmenti x reader#melissa schemmenti/reader#melissa schemmenti x y/n#read on a03#schemmentisbranzino#lisa ann walter
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Break Me Down and Hold Me ‘Til the Dawn
Character: Melissa Schemmenti
Word count: 3,708
Warnings: Praise Kink
Genre: Smut, Comfort, Fluff
Rating: E
Description: “When you say stuff like that,” she says, slower than usual, like she’s figuring out the words as she goes, “I… I like it.”
It’s an admission of the obvious, the most basic instinct of any person: to desire approval, and she makes it sound like she’s turning herself in for manslaughter.
You take care to keep your voice calm as you say, “Why would I think that’s stupid?”
“I mean,” she says and then pauses for a breath, “I mean I really, really like it.”
---
Melissa has a secret and you crash right into her confession.
A/N: Strap in for the most emotional smut i’ve written to date. It’s so sugary you should probably brush your teeth afterwards. Title pulled from Spiritbox’s The Summit
---
The door slams shut at 7:30 sharp.
You rise from your downward dog on the living room floor and scramble down the hall, head rush be damned.
“Melissa?” you ask, but only hear the rustling of her leather jacket and the thump of heels ill-suited for the weather being angrily dumped by the door. Weary and barely standing, Melissa leans against the wall, her shirt damp, hair dripping and her eyes furiously staring at the umbrella she forgot to grab in her hurry.
You kiss her cheek and she slumps against you, face buried in your shoulder.
“Long day?” you ask.
“Understatement of the year.”
She pulls back and you notice the circles under her eyes, much darker than they had been last night. You put your hand on the small of her back and inch her towards the kitchen.
“Come on, I made dinner.”
Melissa looks at you like you’re made of cotton candy or fire trucks and presses a wet kiss to your forehead before letting her heavy feet drag her towards the smell of sweet potatoes.
She collapses into a chair by the kitchen table and you dash to the covered pot on the stove, still simmering on low heat. The second you lift the lid, the kitchen is filled with the scent of vegetable soup, rich and creamy. You fill a bowl and grab the leftovers of the ciabatta Melissa had made two nights back.
“I added extra pepper for you,” you say as you sit down next to her. The bowl clinks against the table and a few drops flow over the edge into a small puddle. “And there’s a bit of bread left.”
“You’re a godsend,” Melissa says. She pulls the bowl closer and sighs; her first smile of the night, and what a sweet little thing it is. Her eyes flutter closed as she tries a spoonful and doesn’t speak for the following five minutes, which she instead dedicates to inhaling her first meal since lunch.
“What were you doing so late?” you ask once she’s emptied the bowl down to a fifth.
“Grading.” Melissa tears off a piece of bread and dips it into the soup. She takes a bite, barely chews before swallowing, and continues, “Setting up next month’s lesson plan, looking for a math textbook for Amir because the little dip lost his copy, replying to emails.” She sighs. “So many fucking emails.”
“Well, I’m happy you’re home now,” you say. A strand of Melissa’s hair threatens to fall into her bowl and you tuck it back behind her ear, where it belongs. Melissa smiles faintly, even though her shoulders are heavy with exhaustion and her eyes can barely stay open.
She finishes her meal in silence and once she’s done, rises with a grumble to drop her dishes in the sink next to yours; the ones you’d meant to put in the dishwasher an hour ago.
Melissa turns and opens the cabinet only to groan at the sight; breakfast cereals and spices and your growing collection of baking supplies, all stuffed inside with little thought as to how you’re supposed to get anything out.
“Do we have any tea?” Melissa asks and starts to remove things one by one, her left hand held above her head in case something comes tumbling down.
“I think I saw chamomile behind the cake tins.” You get up and drag your chair with you. Sure enough, behind the heart-shaped mold and the powdered sugar is a bag of loose chamomile, still good to go. You hand it to her, and Melissa nods a silent thank you.
The kettle sits by the sink, freshly washed after you’d made yourself a cup of milky oolong earlier today. Melissa fills it with water while you hop down and put the chair back by the table.
The running water mixes with the pouring rain outside and you relish the quiet; the type of silence that Melissa always brings home with her, the kind that feels like its own form of music.
You wrap your arms around her waist as she turns on the stove and bury your nose in her hair.
“I’m so proud of you,” you say, almost kissing the words into the back of her neck. Melissa laughs, hushed and short.
“What for?”
“You do so much for those kids.” You inhale her perfume; the scent is heady and sharp, like ground cinnamon. “They’re everything to you. I love you for it.”
“Come on,” Melissa says. “Everybody does it.”
You turn her around by the hips and press your palms into the counter.
“No, they don’t. There’s plenty of terrible teachers out there and we both know it. You just love doing a really good job.”
Melissa braces herself against the edge of the stove, her fingernails clicking a nervous ta-ta-ta-tap into the ceramic.
“Don’t most people? I mean I just—“
“No.” You kiss the tip of her nose. “You’re brilliant. Incredible. My wonderful Melissa who does the most thankless job in the world for peanuts. You should be on a tropical island somewhere with six hundred free mai tais lined up. And a private pool. You deserve nothing less.”
Melissa averts her eyes and slips past you to the sink. She fishes a glass from the cupboard and fills it with water. She doesn’t drink; only watches the surface without saying a word.
“Melissa?” you ask.
Her cheeks are thinly flushed and she won’t look at you.
“Hey,” you say and take a step to close the distance. “Are you okay? Did I say something?”
“No,” Melissa says weakly. Her eyes flit from you to every corner of the room and then back again. “That’s not it, I’m sorry.”
You close the distance, your hips bumping together, and take her hand into yours. “What’s going on?”
Melissa watches you, conflict carved into her teeth as they gnaw at her lower lip. She puts the glass down and takes a deep breath.
“You’ll think it’s stupid,” she says, and there’s the faint tremor of a laugh in her voice, an attempt at levity to keep the long claws of something serious away from the conversation.
“Why?”
“Because it is.”
You frown. “I highly doubt that.”
Melissa stands in silence for a moment and you wait, nearly breathless, until she finally looks up; right past you and out the window into the brewing storm.
“When you say stuff like that,” she says, slower than usual, like she’s figuring out the words as she goes, “I… I like it.”
It’s an admission of the obvious, the most basic instinct of any person: to desire approval, and she makes it sound like she’s turning herself in for manslaughter.
You take care to keep your voice calm as you say, “Why would I think that’s stupid?”
“I mean,” she says and then pauses for a breath, “I mean I really, really like it.”
You stare at her, confused. The gears in your head turn and turn, and her words roll themselves over, back to front and inside out, until finally, like striking a match, it hits you.
“Oh.”
You remember, then, a moment from two weeks ago, when you were picking Melissa up from work.
You had been standing by the door with your phone in hand, waiting while she packed up, when someone had knocked and gone in; a woman of around 30, probably a parent to one of the students.
You really tried not to eavesdrop, but you were curious; it would be interesting to see Melissa in action instead of hearing a story over dinner, afterwards.
Besides, your stomach was growling and Melissa had promised you a double halloumi burger on the way back and you really just wanted to get going. They wouldn’t take long, right? Better that you’re close by.
The conversation had, luckily, been short, and mostly concerned a Jenna — how she’d be needing a little help catching up once she got back to school after her grandmother’s funeral.
“Thank you so much, Ms. Schemmenti,” the woman had said. “I don’t know what we’d do without you.”
“Really, it’s all right. Don’t worry about it.”
“I mean it.” There’d been rustling, and a slightly panicked grunt. Melissa must’ve been caught in a hug. “Good girls like you are few and far between. We’re lucky you happen to be so close by.”
After that the woman had left, even nodded you goodbye as she went. A few minutes later, Melissa had appeared in the doorway, slightly out of breath and her eyes out of focus.
She’d dragged you to your car by the wrist and fucked you silly in the Burger King bathroom.
The kettle’s whistle rips you back into the present like an air raid siren.
Melissa watches you, shoulders squared with tension, an anxious frown strewn across her face. She clears her throat and takes an unsteady step back.
“I knew this was a shit idea,” she says and drops her gaze to the floor. She retreats further, unsure of where to put her hands as they card through her hair, skim her pockets and then finally settle, crossed in front of her like a door slammed into your face. “Forget it, okay. We can pretend this never happened and—“
“No, wait.”
She freezes, one foot over the threshold. You take the screaming kettle off the stove calmly, walk to her in silence and take her face in your hands, your grip firm enough to keep her from looking away.
“You are gorgeous,” you whisper. Melissa follows as you lead her back into the kitchen, one clumsy step at a time. “Every time you smile I think ‘This is it, this is how I’m going to go’. My heart stops and then you laugh, and it starts right back up again.”
Melissa’s back hits the fridge door, and you hear a souvenir magnet clatter against the floor.
“You are a goddess in leather, okay? The jacket and the pants together — Jesus Christ, Melissa.”
She’s very quiet and very still, save for her breathing, short and nearly panicked. The way she stares at you briefly makes you wonder if you’re doing the right thing, if you’re stepping over a line she wasn’t fully ready to cross, but then the corners of her mouth tip slightly upwards, and you know you have to keep going.
“You’re doing so well, honey. This is new to you and you’re scared and a little embarrassed, but you’re being so brave, so attentive and so, so good.”
You kiss her lips once, quick and soft as a feather.
“You’re my good girl, Melissa.”
The earth might as well have split in half with how rapidly the atmosphere changes; something invisible snaps as Melissa takes you by the hair and kisses you breathless.
Her lips are ravenous as she trails a line of sharp, hungry kisses down your neck and with one swift twist it’s your back against the fridge, your head bumping against holiday photos and last week’s grocery list, her leg nudged between yours.
“Please don’t stop,” Melissa whispers and then her teeth pierce the skin right above your collarbone, straddling the edge of just enough and too much. It pulls a thin whine from you, a sound she knows and translates into please dear god keep going.
“You’re being so good, honey.” It’s a struggle, getting a single word out while her hand tears at the buttons of your shirt. “I can’t wait to feel you inside me.”
Melissa’s breath hitches like she’s choking, and the shirt flies open. Your bra is easily pulled out of the way and without warning, Melissa’s lips close around your nipple to gently nibble at it.
She approaches you the same way she would an old recipe; with fierce, familiar warmth, her hands lost in her profound knowledge of your every curve and crevice. She draws a host of gasps from you, hidden into the top of her head as you kiss her hair and hold her even tighter.
Melissa releases your nipple and gives it a slow kiss goodbye, only to nip a line of stinging marks down your ribs, all the way to the top of your jeans. She pauses to dig through her back pocket and pulls out a small, threadbare hair tie.
“Just a second,” she whispers, and sweeps her hair up into a frenzied ponytail. “You ready?”
You smile down at her and brush her cheek with the backs of your fingers. “For you? Always.”
The button of your jeans pops open, the zipper is unzipped, and Melissa pulls everything down with two firm tugs. She rubs her nose against the soft inside of your thigh, breathing slowly and deliberately as she draws out every second to its limit, until you’re close to begging for something, anything.
She looks up and the light hits her eyes just right, makes them come alive like a forest pool dappled with afternoon sunlight, and you’re left breathless.
“I love you,” you say.
Melissa smiles and leans in.
A sob breaks free of your throat and echoes around the room, seeps so deep into the walls that you know you’ll still hear it two weeks from now. Melissa doesn’t treat you to anything but the tip of her tongue, light and barely there, and it is too little and too much at the same time, an impossible sensation she burns right into your nerves.
Melissa presses her hands against the fridge for support and shoves a row of magnets out of the way; the pictures they were holding fly to the floor in a chaotic flurry. She cranes her neck and presses the flat of her tongue against you, and it hits you like a brick, so much after so little.
“You feel so good, honey,” you say between rough breaths. “So, so good.”
Like she’s waiting for it, the tips of her fingers go scaling past your knee and up your thigh, until they’re resting lightly on your pubic bone. She draws a thin line down, down, down until her index finger is gently pressed against velvety heat, and then stops, her head tilted upwards to watch you, patiently waiting.
“Please,” you sigh, “I need—“
Melissa slips two fingers inside, knuckle by knuckle, and drags your trembling whine out, inch by inch. Her rhythm is slow, almost nonexistent as she savors each twitch, each swallowed curse and burdened breath. She leans against you languidly, as if it’s Sunday and she’s leafing through the morning paper, eyes closed and her cheek pressed against your hipbone.
She keeps you rooted to that feeling of home where you don’t have to keep watch over how you sound or look, where the only thing that matters is that you feel safe and loved and good. The pressure of her palm on your waist, her lips, whispering affections like little prayers, her body leaning into yours like this is where you were always both meant to be; it’s all almost too much, like trying to fit lightning in a bottle.
Melissa bends her wrist and beckons. Your knees nearly buckle but she keeps you standing, her hand firmly on the curve of your hip, enough to keep you from tumbling.
“Christ,” you whisper, fuel to the fire. Melissa’s fingers sink until her palm is flush against your skin and she settles into a steady beat, a tempo she reads from your disjointed cries and frantic gasps.
Her hair is slipping out of the tie and you notice a strip of gray, missed by her hairdresser, slide down the slope of her neck and settle on her shoulder. It’s like an ornament, a spot of moss growing on the side of a tree, a flourish bestowed for a life well lived.
“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” slips out of your mouth before you’ve fully even finished thinking it. Melissa flushes down to the tips of her ears and dips her head back between your thighs, her tongue deft and eager. A shudder shakes your body and you feel yourself drip; you can already imagine Melissa’s hand slick, the sleeve of her shirt soaked.
She pushes deeper and you groan, a garbled, ecstatic sound. Words are almost beyond you at this point, scattered into the wind like leaves in winter, but you still manage to say, “Melissa, my Melissa. You feel so—“ A breath, starving and coarse. “Jesus.”
You can hear Melissa’s unsaid ‘Just me’, can imagine yourself swatting her arm because it is stupid and silly and it makes you laugh in a way that very few things ever have.
Melissa opens her eyes and looks at you, a sloppy smile on her lips and her mascara stained on the left side. She thrusts, pulls you apart like a spool of string even when her wrist must be burning, her jaw sore and strained, but she gives you that small sacrifice in exchange for this, for you, unfurling under her touch.
“Honey, I’m going to—“ Her fingers curl and you feel the twitch all the way in your spine. “Melissa—“
She pulls her face back an inch, jaw glistening and lipstick staining her chin. Wind brushes against the windows with a gentle rumble that clatters the windows in their panes. Melissa catches her breath for only a moment, and then says, “I love you too.”
It’s almost enough on its own.
She falls back into you like she’s drawn by gravity and pushes you to a point where you can’t even think anymore. Her movements are fidgety, impatient; she loses herself in the what, where and how of you, and leaves any notions of composure rotting in the dust.
You grind into her palm right as Melissa tips her head and twists her tongue, gives you everything she possibly has to give and the world disappears into a spinning black hole with you at the center, the solitary singularity that ruptures like a thousand dying suns. You arch your spine and dig in your heels, begging the universe for something to hold onto, and there she is: Melissa Ann Schemmenti with her hand persisting in yours, exactly where you need her.
“I love you,” you cry and the tears come falling, and you let them, despite the tide of embarrassment that follows. “Melissa, I love you, I love you, I love you, you—“
Your knees finally give out and you nearly crash to the floor, but she holds you tight and firm the whole way down. She checks that your back is safely laid against the fridge before pulling her fingers out, drawing out one last shiver from your depleted body.
You notice a faint sheen of tears in her eyes as well, and of all things, a laugh bubbles up from your throat, a wobbly titter that seems to be the only way your body can attempt to parse the tidal wave of emotion still swirling inside.
Melissa smiles at you and then gets off her knees with a hefty ‘Ow’. With her back against the drawers, she pats her open lap and you slump onto her thighs.
Thunder rolls somewhere far above, and the rain falls thicker. You exhale, let your eyelids grow heavy, and you listen. The sky roars and under its boundless weight the trees bow and creak, the wooden swing in the backyard groans in its attempts to stay in its place, and the neighbor’s dog barks ferociously until it’s dragged inside. Above it all is Melissa’s breathing, still slightly labored. It feels like home at its most exposed: the same as her soft snores in the middle of the night, a peal of laughter from the living room, the smell of breakfast when you’re barely awake yet.
Melissa pulls your hair out of your face and starts brushing her fingers through it, tenderly untangling any knots she finds. She sniffs once, and you kiss the top of her thigh.
“What just happened?” she asks, almost childishly, honestly lost.
You turn your head to look at her. “I would say the best sex of my life, but I think you still have a few surprises in you.”
Melissa laughs softly under her breath. “Thanks for listenin’ to me.”
“Of course,” you say. “Thank you for talking to me. I’m so proud of you.”
Her jovial expression very quickly turns a little sour, and she purses her lips.
“You need to tone it down because I can’t go again yet.” She whistles between her teeth. “I haven’t wanted a smoke in six years, but honestly, now would be a really good time.”
“Don’t you dare,” you mutter.
“I’m just sayin’.”
You chuckle and put your head back down. Your eye is drawn to the mess on the floor: the magnets, the pictures, the wood that’s going to get sticky soon.
“We should probably clean up,” you say. Melissa sighs.
“Yeah.” She pats your shoulder and you pull your jeans back up. The zipper gives you some trouble, trembling fingers and all, but you manage to get yourself clothed in a reasonable amount of time. You rise from the floor and your right knee lets out a little pop as you get back on your feet.
Melissa, however, braces her hands against the floor, and then stops with a sharp hiss and a hand on her spine.
“Shit, my back, can you—“
“Of course,” you say, and slide your arms under hers. “Ready?”
You hold her by the shoulders while she wraps herself around you.
“One, two, three.”
You heave yourselves to your feet, but even when she’s securely standing, she doesn’t let go. Her hand is twisted into the back of your shirt and her face lies in the crook of your neck. You feel her lips softly trembling, her breathing coming in and out in small uneven hiccups.
“I love you so much,” she whispers.
You kiss the top of her head. “I love you too.”
You haven’t asked the universe for much, and have received even less; but for this one thing you will keep thanking the powers that be, for as long as you possibly can.
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Actually, this deserves its own post because the way Abbott Elementary handled Melissa's character in this episode is genuinely some of the best dyslexia representation I have ever seen on TV.
She's not a little kid who overcomes her disability as an adult. Her dyslexia doesn't give her superpowers (weirdly common trope). She isn't portrayed as stupid by the show or the other characters because of it. She's a competent adult who has developed coping mechanisms to deal with her disability and is still shown to struggle sometimes despite that! Oh my god is that refreshing!
Also, Melissa being competitive about the reading challenge and Barbra's comment about how good she is at engaging kids in reading is totally recontextualized by the reveal that she has a learning disability and especially the reveal that she was probably teased for her LD as a kid (which I'm also so happy that they brought up - I don't think most people realize how competitive elementary schools tend to make reading, and how shitty and ostracizing that can be for kids who struggle with it). Winning the book challenge is important to her because it's something she used to really struggle with. She's good at getting kids to read because she can relate to their challenges in a personal way. They directly tie her LD to her strengths as a teacher without it being fantastical or over-emphasized and I can't even begin to tell you how much I love it!
The bit at the end where she says "you know how sometimes I have to read things a few times" to Janine, in the break room with no students present is also a great scene because it shows her LD in an adult, professional context. It's a conversation that I, and every dyslexic person I know, has had with their co-workers at some point. I just love that they make a point of normalizing her LD in an adult workplace setting that's separate from the classroom and away from the kids.
This season has done an awesome job talking about disability generally but the choice to give not just a student, but one of the teachers an LD was an absolutely perfect move. I really hope this gets brought up in later episodes and isn't just a one-off.
#abbott elementary#melissa schemmenti#dyslexia#disability representation#Quinta must have taken the time to higher and work with a sensitivity reader for this episode and bless her for it#I truly expect so little from dyslexia rep at this point#it was amazing to see it handled so well here
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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
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Lisa Ann Walter at 30th Screen Actors Guild Awards
#lisa ann walter#abbott elementary#sag awards#actors#screen actors guild#melissa schemmenti#melissa schemmenti x reader
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Roommates? (Melissa Schemmenti x f!Reader)
Synopsis: You move into Mel's spare room
Words: 3.6k
Warnings: praise kink if you squint, swearing, mentions of alcohol
AN: Written after 3x07.
You groaned as you dropped into your seat in the break room, not hungry for the lunch you’d packed for yourself. Burying your head in your hands, you did your best to try not to think about the email you’d just received. It was hard when your stress was becoming all encompassing after weeks of it.
“What going on with you?”
You groaned again, even when you felt the brush of an arm against yours. The floral scent you’d grown accustomed to over the last few years wafted towards you. Melissa. Your closest friend at the school, and the person you’d been pining after for so long you’d lost any self respect you might have had.
“That place I was going to move into fell through,” you said, “I feel like I’ve seen every spare room in this city and there is no where to live.”
You peeked at her from between your fingers, hating to sound so whiny but knowing that your stress levels had reached breaking point. She was looking at you with a raised eyebrow and an incredulous look. You sighed, sitting up properly under her watchful gaze.
“You know Jacob’s looking for a place too,” Gregory said from the other table.
“I know,” you groaned, “he suggested we look for a place together and I can’t commit to living and working with that man. He once tried to rap at me about the Martin Luther King Jr and I can’t have that in my home.”
“I get that,” Gregory replied, “why are you even looking for a new place to live? Your place is nice.”
“My roommate keeps watching me when I sleep. Sometimes I wake up and she’s standing at the end of my bed just staring at me. It freaks me out.”
“Well hey, I’m thinking of renting out my spare room. Would you be interested, hon?”
You hadn’t expected Melissa to say that.
“Really?”
She gave you one of those small smiles that you’d never seen her give another person. Your heart fluttered and you found your cheeks heating up.
“Really,” she said, “you can pay rent, right?”
“Yeah, of course,” you replied.
“You can move in this weekend,” she said.
Come Saturday, your things were in boxes and bags, and you had a spring in your step. You were humming to yourself as you packed up your car, your entire life filling the seats and the trunk. You took one last look at the building, sighed, then got in your car and drove to the next chapter of your life.
It wasn’t until you were standing in front of the door that the reality of what you were about to do crashed into you. Living with Melissa. Being in her space all the time. Existing in close proximity. She was going to see you first thing in the morning. You were going to see her late at night.
Your crush was going to either get so much worse or dissipate when you saw all of her annoying habits.
The door opened before you could knock, revealing the red head who starred in so many of your dreams. You blinked, rearing back, not having expected her to suddenly appear. Her lips quirked up, hand snapping out to grasp you around the elbow before you could fall backwards.
“Were you planning on knocking or do you wanna live on my front step?” she asked.
“ I was… just about to… can you help with my boxes?” you asked instead, switching tracks without having to explain yourself.
“Sure, hon,” she chuckled, slipping past you.
Watching her lift your heavy boxes set off something primal in you. You followed behind her, your own arms full of your stuff. She led you up the stairs and into her spare bedroom, placing the boxes down on the made up bed.
“Well, here you are. Bed, dresser, the bathroom is down the hall. You can have a a shelf in the fridge. Your key is just there. Let me know if you need anything else,” she said.
“Thanks.”
“Do you need help with the rest of your stuff?” she asked.
“Only if you want to. I can do it myself. It’s no bother.” You had no idea why you were saying no. You felt flustered. You always felt a bit flustered around her.
“Come on, hon,” she said, giving you an indulgent smile, “the sooner we start the sooner we’ll be done.”
She left you alone after pttling the last of the boxes into your room, leaving you to unpack and settle in. Sorting your clothes into colours helped to ease your thoughts, the mindless work turning your head empty. It calmed you, getting your life in order so you could get your thoughts in order.
It wasn’t going to be so bad living with Melissa. She was being nice to you which was more than Jacob or Janine had been able to say after their cooking lesson with her. Accommodating was the word. She was almost going out of her way to be nice.
And most importantly you could keep your crush to yourself without ruining it all.
That night, she made dinner, offering you some and then curled up on the couch with a glass of wine. You were hesitant about joining her, hovering until she rolled her eyes and tugged you to sit beside her.
But it was easy to fall into a routine with her. Surprisingly easy. So easy that you didn’t even notice until a few weeks in.
Sitting at the table on a Wednesday night, doing the puzzle you’d started over the weekend, you listened to her hum in the kitchen. Something was bubbling on the stove top, the smell mouth watering. You looked up as fingers pushed a piece towards you.
“Thanks,” you said, looking up at her.
She was already smiling at you and you couldn’t help but smile back. It was an instinctual response. You couldn’t help it when it came to Mel.
“You hungry?” she asked.
“Always,” you replied, knowing it was the answer she wanted.
“C’mon then, hon, make some room. Can’t have you starving before you finish that patch of sky,” she said.
“You’re teasing but I saw you get excited when you finished the boat,” you said, clearing your pieces away from one end of the table.
Sitting across from her, the lights soft and warm, there was always something a little romantic to the feeling. Of course, you were sure it was all in your head but you couldn’t help but enjoy it, just a little, more than you should. She would look at you, those twinkling green eyes making you flush, and her smile had butterflies erupting in your stomach.
Still, every night felt like domestic bliss. Coming home with her, in the bubble of her house, the quiet night pressing in on the window, it was the kind of life you hadn’t known you’d been missing.
“You’re a goddess in the kitchen,” you said.
She’d waited for you to try her food, just as she always did before beginning to eat her own meal. Her foot brushed against yours under the table, making you jump. She chuckled, doing it again and you felt your cheeks heat and your heart stumble over itself.
Some days it almost felt like she was flirting with you.
“You’re sweet, hon,” she said.
You found your foot brushing against hers again, emboldened by her bashful response. Those green eyes flicked up to you, something twinkling in their depths. You weren’t sure how you looked but you were worried you’d shown your hand to her.
Dropping your foot back to the floor, you averted your gaze down to the plate of pasta she’d laid down in front of you. Her foot nudged yours before resting against it, length to length, the warmth of her skin seeping into yours.
She kept silent the rest of the meal, following your lead. You weren’t sure you could say anything, not with her foot against yours. Certainly not if she was watching you.
You remained silent as you cleared the table once she was done. Standing shoulder to shoulder at the sink, you did the washing up together, working in companionable tandem. You were so in tune with one another after living together for those few weeks, working together came without flaws.
“Are you gonna be watching our show tonight?” she asked into the silence.
You didn’t say no.
Sitting beside her on the sofa had always been trouble for you. Shoulder to shoulder, lit by nothing but the flickering screen, sharing a bowl of popcorn until your hands brushed together, it had always been a specific type of torture for you. The air always felt electric to you, and you knew it didn’t for her.
Except this night her head fell to your shoulder and her body curled towards yours. You froze until she admonished you, doing your best to relax your muscles. And there you stayed until she went to bed, feeling as if you had entered some kind of parallel universe.
Thursday night you’d put the entire odd experience behind you. She hadn’t mentioned it over breakfast or on the car ride over to school. On the ride back home she’d sung along to the radio, keeping her hands and feet to herself. You’d thought it was done. You thought you wouldn’t be tortured anymore.
But after you’d changed out of your school clothes and into something more comfortable, a knock sounded on your door. Opening the door, you found her in the hall, wet hair clinging to the skin of her neck, a towel wrapped around her body. You stumbled back a step, blinking at the vision before you.
“Um…” was all you managed to say.
“Have you seen my Eagles hoodie?” she asked.
“No,” you replied faintly, doing your best to not let your eyes wander further south than her chin.
“You sure? Because I can’t find it,” she said.
“Did you check in the washing?” you asked, hoping that would send her away.
“I thought you mighta borrowed it,” she said, lips tipping up into a small smirk, “you always seem to like it when I wear it. Can’t keep your hands off me.”
You felt your cheeks heat even further, deeper, almost uncomfortably. You looked down at your feet, terrified to be caught staring at her. You didn’t need to come across as a creep to her, ruining your friendship completely and irrevocably.
“I’m just teasing, hon,” she said, shoving your shoulder, “it’s probably in the wash.”
You were left staring at her retreating back as she left you be with your swirling thoughts and thundering heart, breathless from the image of all that skin on display. You were slow to close your door, leaning back against it as you breathed out a long sigh. Pressing a hand to your chest, you could feel the beating of your heart against your skin, practically bursting from your body.
The after image of her in the towel stayed in your mind until you could bring yourself to venture downstairs.
She was standing at the hob, stirring something on the stove, dressed in the familiar grey hoodie she’d been looking for. You blinked then stepped further in. She turned, smiling at you over her shoulder.
“Wanna help me out here?” she asked, seeming not bothered by the interaction upstairs.
“Sure,” you said, wanting to move past it too. Clearly, it hadn’t effected her the way it had effected you.
“Can you keep stirring this for me? I gotta start on the chopping,” she said.
“Sure,” you said again.
Your fingers brushed over hers as you took the wooden spoon from her. She paused a moment, eyes roving over your face. You held your breath, frozen, waiting, wondering what she was thinking.
“Keep stirring, hon,” she whispered, hand guiding yours, the skin of her palm warm against yours.
Slipping away, you kept your eyes on the pot, not wanting her to see the way you were beginning to come undone. One day you could brush off as weird, two made you wonder what was going on.
A warm hand landed on your hip, practically burning through the fabric of your leggings. A soft chin rested on your shoulder, looking over you as you continued stirring. You didn’t know what to do but keep stirring. If you focused on the warmth and the soft body brushing against your back you might melt into a puddle of goo.
“Good job, hon,” she murmured, lips brushing your earlobe.
A small squeak came from your parted lips and her throaty chuckle only made you feel as if you were crumbling in her arms. Those hands on your hips gently pushed you out of the way, fingers plucking the spoon from your hand.
“Go on, go finish that patch of sky. I can finish up here,” she said, sounding as if she had no idea the turmoil she was causing you.
You simply nodded and wandered back to the dining table. You sat, staring at the pieces, trying to reel your thoughts back in. A finger absently ran along the sides of the puzzle, feeling the gaps for the missing pieces. It wasn’t that Melissa wasn’t tactile, sometimes she could be, but this whole thing was something more. A step further.
A little closer to the kind of relationship you wanted with her.
That night she curled up against you again, cheek resting on your shoulder in the flickering light of the tv, hand resting on the thigh hers was resting against. You spent the entire time holding your breath until she slipped away to her room.
Friday left you on tenterhooks. Once again she was normal right up until your return home after a day at school. You were considering retreating into your room and not emerging for the rest of the night. It felt as if she was playing a game with you and you hadn’t been informed of the rules.
And yet you kind of revelled in the attention, if only because it might be your only chance to pretend she wanted you the way you wanted her.
You weren’t given the chance to make the choice for yourself.
A knock on the sounded on your bedroom door once again. You flung on a shirt, covering up as best you could while in the middle of changing out of your work clothes. Pulling open the door, you looked down, finding yourself in one of the lacy camisoles you’d been trying on last weekend when going out with friends for a drink. You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, trying to contain the groan you wanted to release. When you opened your eyes it was to find a smirk and sparkling green eyes turned in your direction.
“I was coming to offer you a glass of wine but it looks like you might be going out,” she said.
Her eyes swept down your body and if you were a betting person, you thought her gaze might have lingered on the cleavage on display. You found your back arching, just a moment, until her eyes swept back to yours and her smirk only deepened.
“Come on down, hon. You ain’t going anywhere in those sweat pants,” she said.
“I’ll take that wine,” you said, needing to drown your embarrassment in something.
You trailed behind her down the stairs into the kitchen. It truly was the heart of the home in Melissa’s house. You hoisted yourself onto a bench as she poured the wine. As she’d pointed out, there was no chance you were about to head out in the sweats you were wearing, even if the lacy cami on the top was more dressed up than was normal for slouching around the house on a Friday night.
When she turned back around, her eyes seemed to light up. She sauntered towards you, both hands holding glasses of red wine. Offering you one, she drew closer. You took a deep drink, needing it more and more as she took another step closer to you. Her thumb came up, running along your lower lip, wiping away a drop of wine before she sucked it into her mouth, maintaining eye contact with you.
“Mel.” You felt as if you’d woken up into a dream, breathless and unsure of what you could do.
“Yes, hon?” Her voice had turned so husky you weren’t sure you were existing in real life anymore.
When you didn’t reply she took one last step forward, right between your thighs. One hand ran up your leg making fire lick through your veins and your cheeks heat under her gaze. Her lips ticked up into a smirk again, seeming to enjoy the trouble you were having at forming a sentence.
“What are you doing?” you finally managed to get out in a whisper.
“Aren’t you enjoying it?” she asked.
“I don’t…” It came out strangled, “Mel, please.”
“I’m trying to seduce you, hon,” she said, “is it working?”
You nodded, not sure you were capable of forming words. Just the thought she was trying to seduce was enough to send you into a coma. You hadn’t thought she would ever look at you the way you looked at her.
“C’mon, hon. You can do better than that. Say it.”
“It’s working,” you whispered, not sure you could deny her anything in this moment.
“Good girl.”
She drew ever closer, breath ghosting over your lips. You froze, eyes fluttering shut, waiting to see what she was going to do. A brush of lips, a soft sigh, fingers clenching around your thigh. You barely had the chance to enjoy it before she was stepping back from you. The whimper that came from you was embarrassing but the look on her face when you opened your eyes was smug.
“Mel,” you said again, not sure there were any words other than her anymore.
“Do you know the hell you’ve put me through since moving in? You’re so fucking hot and I don’t think you even know it. You’re the exact woman my Nonna warned my cousin Vinny about,” she said, almost groaning.
“I haven’t been doing anything,” you said, addressing the only thing you could.
“Parading around in your tight leggings and these little tops and those fucking shorts in the morning. And when you’re thinking about something your tongue pokes out and then all I can think about is reaching over and kissing you. Also did you know you hum to yourself when you think no one’s around. Fuck, when I see you in the kitchen humming and dancing I just want to pin you to the closest surface and fuck you until you can’t do anything but say my name.”
You weren’t sure you had a good response.
“Yeah but you wear tight trousers pretty much every day at work,” was your only come back.
“But you weren’t looking at me in them and thinking what it would feel like to have my legs wrapped around you,” she replied as if it was the most natural answer in the world.
“I fucking was,” you snapped, at the end of your rope. She’d been playing with you long enough, “christ sake, Mel. I’ve been thinking about you since the first time we met. You’re literally the most gorgeous person I’ve ever seen. I didn’t think you were interested.”
“Hon, I let you move into my house. What part of that says I’m not interested?” she demanded.
“I don’t know,” you said, sounding angrier than you expected, “you might have just been trying to be a good friend.”
“Then let me be very clear.” She took a step back between your legs again, “I am very interested in you.”
You legs tightened around her hips, holding her in place as you lent forward. Your lips ghosted over hers and you were surprised by the noise that came from her. It was whiny and needy and she was straining towards you. You chuckled, drawing back.
“If you plan on seducing me, I expect to be wined and dined,” you said, “no more fooling around until you put some effort in and prove I’m worth it.”
“You fucking brat,” she laughed, a hand curling around the back of your neck to pull you closer.
She kissed you deeply, tongue licking into your mouth, sending your thoughts spiralling away from you. Your knees tightened on her hips, your hands cupping her cheeks, indulging her for long enough to let her think she’d gotten her way. You nipped at her lower lip before drawing away.
“Wining and dining, Mel. I’m not some common whore,” you said, “I deserve romance.”
“There’s your wine,” she said, shoving the glass back into your hands, “I’ll make a start on dinner.”
You bit down on your lip, watching her slam down a knife on the cutting board, grumbling under her breath, trying to hold in a grin. The glare she gave you broke the flood gates as giggles tumbled from your lips.
“You keep on like this and I’ll stop seducing you,” she threatened.
“You stop and I’ll wear those shorts you like all weekend,” you retaliated.
You caught her arm, drawing her in for another kiss, just enough to remind her what was waiting. She softened, gently squeezing your leg before going back to cooking. You watched her, finding yourself falling more and more for her, the anticipation delicious, the woman beautiful.
And maybe moving into her home was the best thing to ever happen to you.
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the rooms are all on fire (every time that you walk in)
// melissa has a thing for her new neighbor, but she refuses to let it go too far because of the age difference. though, the redhead might realize how deep her feelings go once it’s too late. //
warnings: insecure!melissa, reader is so painfully in love with melissa it’s hilarious, melissa is an idiot who can’t handle emotions, pining, mutual pining, jealous!reader, jealous!melissa, brief gary x melissa (they go on one date), reader is in her twenties.
melissa knows right away that she doesn’t like you. you’re too young, too loud, too perky, too nice. you had moved in across the hall from her a couple months ago, and had knocked on her door the same day you moved in. you had this big smile on your face, along with this large tupperware of brownies. though, in your defense it had not been a good day for melissa. her ex husband had just revealed he had an affair while they were still married, and even though she no longer loved joe, it still hurt.
“who the hell are you?” she asks, as soon as she swings the door open. your smile doesn’t even falter, and it’s the most annoying thing melissa has ever seen. “i’m y/n! i just moved into the apartment across the hall. i just wanted to introduce myself and give you these.” your western accent indicated you were far from home, and the positive energy radiating off of you only seemed to put melissa in a worse mood than she already was. you hand her the tupperware of brownies, and she scowls.
“we don’t really introduce ourselves to neighbors ‘round here. your lucky you didn’t knock on 402’s door. he’s a creep.” she mutters as she takes the tub of sweets. “oh. thanks for the warning.” you joke, and you tilt your head to side, “i never got your name.” you add and she snorts. “cause i never gave it, kid.” she responds curtly before shutting the door right in your face.
that was your first impression of melissa. it was enough to make any sane person steer clear of her… but you weren’t necessarily a sane woman. you were usually up before eleven every morning to go on a run or do a small workout. one morning you wake up extra early, and catch the redhead in the elevator. you don’t appear to notice the way her eyes roam up your tight leggings, and small zipped up sweater that clung to your body. “good morning, neighbor.” you greet her, and she keeps this stone cold expression etched onto her features.
“morning.” she flatly responds, clearly uninterested. “did you like the brownies?” you inquire curiously, as the elevator door closes behind you. “i’m not a fan of chocolate. i prefer pumpkin or apple.” she bluntly replies, and you don’t let her attitude discourage you. in fact, you visibly pep up at the newly found information. “i love pumpkin cinnamon rolls. next time i make some, i’ll bring some over for you.” you say, as the elevator door opens. “i’ll see ya around, neighbor! have a good day.” you call out as you rush towards the exit of the building. melissa rolls her eyes as the elevator doors close, and she continues her way to the parking garage.
your perkiness in the mornings was something melissa couldn’t adjust to. she didn’t want to. as soon as you realized the redhead was in the elevator every morning at 7:20, you were there as well. it was borderline obsessive in the redheads opinion, and she couldn’t stand that dopey grin on your face whenever you’d see her. it was like clockwork. she’d get in the elevator, click on the floor for the parking garage, and you’d squeeze in before the doors closed. she was beginning to consider taking the stairs.
she wasn’t sure how you knew when she was home, but on friday evening, she was in the middle of making dinner when a knock on the door caused her to knock over an open bottle of water. “shit! fuck— i’m comin’!” she yells out frustratedly as she makes her way to the front door. when she opens it, there you are with that stupid smile on your face. this time you’re holding a plate with a large slice of sweet bread on it, with icing slathered on top. it was saran wrapped cutely on the white plate.
“pumpkin cinnamon bread, with cream cheese icing.” your voice is light, and you’re gazing up at her with these big innocent eyes; just begging for her approval. there’s hopefulness laced into your orbs, and not even melissa has the heart to turn this away. “pumpkin in april… thanks kid.” she mutters, and if she thought your smile was big before… it seems to illuminate with her backhanded compliment. maybe it was the fact that one of her favorite students made her a painting in art class, and she was feeling particularly mushy today.
“you like pasta?” she asks you blandly, still sounding indifferent about your sudden intrusion on her dinner making. you nod eagerly, “yup! i haven’t had it in ages though… i don’t know any good italian spots around here, and i can’t cook to save my life.” you confess sheepishly, and she nods as she turns around and disappears into the apartment. she leaves her door wide open, and you stand there, clearly confused. “well, what ‘re you waiting for? come in, dinners almost ready.” she commands, causing your eyes to widen in shock.
“unless you got somewhere else to be tonight?” she asks, looking over her shoulder to see how shocked you look. you shake your head quickly, “nope! it was just gonna be me and the takeout guy tonight.” you half joke, as you walk in, shutting the door behind you. you go quiet as you stand behind the counter, and melissa wipes up the water she had spilled earlier. she turns her head to see you glancing around the room, clearly nervous. it’s the quietest she’s ever heard you. “what? place not what you expected?” she asks, and your eyes lock with hers.
“i just… i didn’t think i’d get to see the inside of your place before i got to know your name.” you admit, and melissa can feel an uncontrollable smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “my names melissa.” she confesses, and your eyes go all soft at the revelation. “melissa… huh. that’s a pretty name. it suits you.” you blurt aloud, and she turns away to check on the pasta, hiding the blush that coats her cheeks.
melissa learns quite a bit about you after that. you’re twenty-four, you had lived in the west coast all your life, and you spent your teenage years stuck taking care of your grandma and siblings. the more melissa discovers about you, the harder it is for her to hate you. your kindness isn’t fake or falsified like most of the people around here; you speak every word with genuineness and sincerity. a routine seems to progress between the two of you; every friday evening you knock on her door with some new platter of sweets, and melissa proceeds to invite you in for dinner.
every friday turns into every other day, and before she knows it, you two are having dinner together every night. the redhead went from hating you, to enjoying your presence more than anyone else’s. at first, melissa assumed she simply enjoyed your company because she was lonely. but after a few months of you, she quickly realized what the little flutter in her belly meant whenever she’d see you. melissa’s head would grow fuzzy whenever you complimented her, and she turned into a blushing mess. not to mention how she couldn’t necessarily hide how happy she was to see you now.
she’d pick out a bottle of wine, and makes different recipes she thinks you’d like. she finds herself humming along to old italian songs as she cooks, waiting for the gentle knocks on her door.
tonight you brought her new york cheesecake with raspberry filling on top. you greet her as you push past her, placing the cake onto her counter. “i know, cheesecake is so bad for our health, but i had a terrible day.” you tell her, and you begin to ramble about how awful your boss is. though, all melissa can do is take in how absolutely beautiful you are. the way your hair falls, and moves as you talk with the emotions you wear on your face. when you don’t get a response from melissa for awhile, you look over and see her leaning against the door, staring at you with a peculiar expression.
“what? what’s wrong?” you question, she offers you a gentle shake of her head. “you’re really beautiful, you know that?” she blurts out, her entire demeanor changing as soon as she realizes what she just said. her eyes go wide as she stands up straight, instead of looking appalled or surprised, the blood rises to your face. a shy grin plasters itself onto your face, as you push your hair behind your ears before gazing at her like some shy schoolgirl. “you’re calling me beautiful? have you seen yourself?” you ask her, and that’s the moment that seems to solidify it for melissa.
the way her heartbeat picks up as the words leave your lips, and something in the pit of her stomach bursts, as if a million cocoons hatched into butterflies inside of her. she began to feel something she hasn’t felt since before she married joe. she couldn’t believe some western twenty something year old kid was making her feel this way.
you appear to be able to read melissa like an open book. she doesn’t have to tell you how she’s feeling for you to know. you’re the only person who’s ever been able to figure her out, and it’s scary. melissa also wasn’t an idiot. she could tell judging by the gleam of adoration in your eyes, you were growing quite the crush on her. sometimes she wonders why. you’re in your twenties, you’re hot, and you know how to bake a mean banana cream pie… melissa also sees how the doorman and a variety of other men ogle you in the mornings. you could have anyone you want, yet you spend your evenings eating melissa’s various italian recipes.
however, the redhead is very closed off. especially romantically. after joe, she’s dated around but nobody’s ever gotten a second date. she hasn’t been so intimate with someone in so long, even before her divorce, the marriage was falling apart. dinner every night was not an option for her and joe; he always came home late, and by the time he arrived his plate of leftovers were in the microwave. even when he’d be home while she was cooking, he’d eat in the living room in front of the tv. you were so enthralled by melissa, sometimes you could hardly focus on the food with how much attention you paid her.
she tries to hide the way she revels in your attention, and how the glimmer in your eyes directed towards her causes those stupid butterflies inside of her to repopulate. “you do not actually have random baseball bats around your apartment…” you trail off one evening, as you’re both sitting on melissa’s comfortable couch. there’s a glass of wine in each of your hands; you’re both on your second glass, and you’re sure it’s the expensive wine melissa keeps locked away. it makes you feel special when she puts so much thought into the dinners you two share. they mean something to you, and you’re positive they mean something to her as well.
“i do. they’re hidden around.” she explains, taking a sip of her wine. you let out a genuine giggle; your wide eyed gaze is pouring right into her, nobody’s ever looked at her with such reverence. something then flickers in her eyes as she remembers something; “speaking of… i’ve been meaning to give you one. ya look like you can’t swing for shit, but it’s better than ya having nothing to defend yourself with.” melissa rambles as she stands up, disappearing into her bedroom. your brows knit together in slight confusion as you wait for her to return.
when she does, she has a medium sized wooden bat. it was dark wood and looked brand new. “wait, you were serious?” you ask, letting out a breathless little chuckle. “you live on a questionable part of town, by yourself, y/n. you barely even forget to lock your door when you come over.” she scolds, sounding undoubtedly upset by the fact. your baffled features quickly morph into a soft expression, “you worried about me, lissa?” you tauntingly ask, and she lets out this vexed huff, waving the wooden bat closer to you.
“just take the damn thing and keep it by your bed.” she commands, while you gladly accept the strange but thoughtful gift. “it’ll make you feel safer.” she adds, her neck burning as you stare at her with a vulnerable look on your face. “okay. but i’ll have you know i’ve never felt safer than knowing my tough, kick ass neighbor is right across the hall.” you assure her, and something inside of melissa is slipping; whether it’s her resolve or the walls she so desperately tries to keep up. “thanks for worrying about me though. i worry about you too.” you clarify, and melissa would normally scoff at a comment like that.
she’d shake her head and demand for you to know she can take care of herself… but she can’t. as you stare into her eyes with the sole intent of wanting her to understand how much she means to you, melissa finds herself taking a seat beside you again, deciding to let the comment slide. maybe she enjoyed knowing someone as sweet as you cared about her. it’s been so long since anyone’s cared for her in this way; it was sort of foreign to her by now. yet it was also comforting.
though melissa often found herself thinking about what things would be like when you finally met somebody. if you’d opt to spending your evenings with your new girlfriend or boyfriend… if you’d look at them with the same gaze you’d look at her with. some evenings she’d catch herself staring at you, and she’d think of being in the shoes of some younger woman… someone who can give you the start at life that you need. you’re in your early twenties, and there’s no way you’d ever want someone old and used up like melissa.
so naturally, the night you invite melissa to your place for dinner instead of just heading to hers… she feels an odd bundle of nerves knotting up in her stomach. she changes after work; which is something she never does. she puts on that sundress she likes to wear when she’s feeling good about herself. as soon as you open the door, your eyes nearly bug out of your head. you have a grease stain on your cheek, she assumes it’s some kind of cooking oil. the apron you’re wearing is hiding the tight top and jeans you’re wearing underneath, but melissa thinks you’ve never looked more cute.
“you’re early! i— i’m still making dinner, please sit down.” you urge her, and melissa offers you that soft smile that seems to only be reserved for you these days. she looks around your place; taking in the pictures on the walls, and the flatscreen that’s too big in melissa’s opinion. she barely watches tv, and when she does it’s in bed on her phone. “yeah, i left a little early because ava hired some of the teachers some new assistants.” she tells you, and you cock a brow, flashing her an amused grin. “an assistant? how do you like that?” you question curiously, knowing how difficult it was for the redhead to warm up to new people.
she snorts, “the kids fine. she’s a little younger than you. can’t understand a word she says but the kids like her.” she murmurs, shrugging, before she looks over at you. you’re stirring whatever’s in the pot, and she quirks a brow. “you actually might like her.” melissa’s comment rolls off your back easily, you don’t seem to notice the difference in her tone. you laugh lightly, “i doubt that. i’ve never gotten along with girls that well. guys either.” you confess, and melissa snorts. “oh yeah, sure, the girl who makes conversation with the mailman doesn’t have any friends. who do you think you’re lying to here, kid?” she questions, and you frown, rolling your eyes. “i’m not a kid. and just because i know how to make conversation with people, doesn’t mean i have a lot of friends.” your voice is light, and lacks any sort of defense or malice.
melissa sort of envies how easy it is for you to talk about things. “i mean, even in high school i had like three friends. they all still live back home, and we talk from time to time but it’s not like we can just hang out every weekend, you know?” you begin to ramble as you stir the searing food in the pan. “you’re the only person who i hang out with, and i’m lucky you even wanna hang out with me.” you add half jokingly, and you turn to see an inscrutable expression etched onto the older woman’s face.
“anyone would wanna hang out with you… i mean one day you’re gonna find someone who can’t stay away from you.” melissa says in an abnormally gentle way, there’s a hint of sadness in her voice and you cock a brow at the redhead. “does it count if i’ve already found someone i can’t stay away from? i’m literally making beef stroganoff for her, and i almost burned down the kitchen twice just to impress her.” you admit, and on cue whatever is in the pan begins smoking.
melissa’s eyes widen as a blush coats her beautiful face. she rushes over to your side, “jesus, y/n! why didn’t you tell me you wanted beef stroganoff? i could make this in my sleep!” she begins to shoo you away, and you frown, shaking your head stubbornly. “because you always make dinner; i wanted to cook for you.” your fervent voice causes melissa’s heart to lurch in her chest. “i don’t just cook for just anybody, yanno’? i cook for you because i like ya, and don’t know how else to show it. i’m not all sweet like you.” she clarifies, and your heartbeat quickens as her words sink in.
she’s trying her hardest to avoid your eyes, and you can’t help the uncontrollable blush on your cheeks. “you like me?” you ask her, and she rolls her eyes. “like it wasn’t obvious when i cooked mac n cheese as a main dish. seriously, kid, your taste buds are strange.” she mutters, and you bite your lip, trying to contain the grin on your face. “yeah, well, as strange as my palette is, you like me.” you taunt her, and notice the way her focused stirring falters ever so slightly. she scoffs, forcing an exasperated expression on her face.
“don’t make me take it back.” she murmurs, and you can’t seem to stop grinning at her like an idiot.
the seasons change and so do things between you and melissa. it isn’t a significant enough change for you to mention it, but it is enough for you to feel the difference. melissa is so soft, and carefree around you now. before she was so tough and prickly; she’s still a bit prickly but you don’t mind getting poked in order to see her true self every now and then. you two appear to be doing this slow dance around the obvious feelings you have for one another.
melissa is way more reluctant than you are. she hates the way her mind works, but it’s not like she can control it. usually how cute and thoughtful you are washes away any doubts she has about herself, except for one day she runs out parsley, and has to run to the store. of course you offer to come along with her, pulling at the sleeves of your sweater and excitedly trotting by her side.
“you sure you don’t need anything else from here? you’re running out of juice.” you remind her and she mentally scolds herself. “you’re right! thanks hun.” she sweetly thanks you, making your face hot as she reaches for the orange juice. you both make your way to the checkout line, and you aimlessly look around at the chocolates. “y/n! hey!” a familiar voice causes you and melissa to turn around. you eyebrows rises slightly as you run into a woman who you went on a few dates with when you first moved here.
“tracy! hey!” you greet her, and she hugs you before you can even think. melissa is watching the interaction like a hawk, and as soon as the raven haired girl hugs you, there’s a burning sensation of pure rage deep rooted in her belly. her eyes narrow as “tracy” pulls away from you, and looks at you as if she wants to ravish you in the supermarket. “you never called me again! i had a lot of fun mini-golfing with you.” she says, and you sheepishly rub the back of your neck, clearly racking your brain for a flimsy excuse.
that’s when realization hits melissa; you dated this woman! the thought alone nearly makes her scoff. this was your type? mid-twenties, soft skin, hippie wannabe? “i just got really busy adjusting to living here and all that… but how are you?” you try to steer the subject away from the awkward final date you hated. it wasn’t fun for you; you had to force yourself to be some cool girl you clearly weren’t. “i’m good! how are you? what are you up to tonight?” she asks hopefully, and you smile.
“i’m good as well. this is melissa, we’re here picking up some parsley for dinner tonight.” you introduce the redhead, and tracy’s demeanor immediately shifts as she assumes the older woman is your girlfriend. “oh. hi, i’m tracy.” she introduces herself to the grade school teacher, holding out her hand for the second grade teacher to shake. melissa only nods curtly in in tracy’s direction, “hey.” she flatly responds. and you notice the tension in the air right away. “well, it was nice seeing you again, tracy.” you say suggestively, and tracy nods.
“yeah, you too. you should call me sometime.” she squeezes your arm before she leaves, and melissa looks as though she wants to murder you with her eyes. “next.” the checkout clerk calls out, snapping the redhead out of her thoughts. she places the orange juice and parsley down much harder than she intended; it even causes the middle-aged man to jump slightly. “rough day?” he questions with a goofy grin, trying to lighten the mood. melissa shoots daggers at him with her eyes, causing his smile to fall as he clears his throat.
he scans the items quickly, “that’ll be $8.97.” he states; not a single slick remark left in him. melissa inserts her card, finishing the transaction without another word. she storms out of the supermarket with you in tow, trying to catch up to her as you follow her to her car. when you’re both strapped in, the car starts and the ride is quiet for the first minute and a half. you hate awkward silences, especially with her. “i honestly forgot i even tried dating when i first moved here.” you pipe up.
“well maybe now you can give her a call, since you’re no longer busy and adjusting.” she mocks your lame excuse from a few minutes ago, and you frown. “i didn’t— the reason i didn’t call her back wasn’t because i was adjusting—“ you try to explain yourself, but melissa cuts you off. “you don’t have to explain yourself to me. we’re friends, i don’t care who you go on lousy dates with.” her voice is harsh, and it’s a tone you recognize all too well. it’s the same one she uses when she used to have her walls up high, refusing to let you get even a glimpse into her mind.
she doesn’t allow you to tell her it was solely because you didn’t want to call tracy again. the dates were terrible; the entire time you were just pretending to be someone you’re not. you only forced yourself to go because you had been living here for a month, and hadn’t made a single friend. melissa stubbornly cooks dinner, and the conversation through the night is short. you aren’t used to it, and it hurts. but you convince yourself tomorrow she’ll be ready to talk about it.
but the next morning, melissa must’ve left for work earlier than usual because you don’t see her in the elevator. you text her to have a good day, but never get a response. throughout the day you can’t help but think about her, and you wonder why she became so closed off after finding out about your meaningless dates with tracy. you understood she might’ve been a little jealous; sometimes you got jealous whenever she spoke about joe. but she seemed so genuinely upset, all you wanted to do was figure out what was going through her head.
you decide to make her some pumpkin carrot cake before heading to her apartment for dinner. it’s nearly six when you’re finished, and you place it in a tupperware nicely for her. you’re practicing in your head what you want to say to her tonight, and how you should assess the situation. by the time you knock on her door you have a simple smile on your face, and the door swings open, the sight nearly causing your eyes to bug out of their sockets.
melissa was wearing a tight black dress that hugged her body perfectly, and enhanced every single curve. the exposed cleavage caused you to force your eyes on hers in order not to sneak a longer peak. your hopeful smile falls a bit when you notice the hard expression on her face. before she can even ask you anything, you begin blabbering like you usually do. “look, i know you said we’re just friends, but there’s more to us than just that… we both know it. we may not have ever talked about it or what it means, but i haven’t dated anyone since this started…” you ramble, and melissa’s eyes soften for a split second, her hard facade slipping as a wave of panic washes over her.
“y/n—“ she tries, but the voice behind her is interrupting, causing your heart to fall right into your stomach. “everything okay, red?” a deep, unfamiliar voice asks, causing you to freeze. melissa suddenly has this unrecognizable expression of regret on her face. “y-yeah everything’s fine, gar.” she says back, “gary? as in the vending machine guy who’s been flirting with you all year, gary?” you ask in disbelief, and a slight bit of anger is mixed into your voice. she had been so upset about you going on a few dates with tracy before you two were even friends, and now she was here having a romantic dinner with gary. you could even smell the type of food she made him.
“he’s been asking me all year, and i decided since it’s been awhile since i’ve been on a date, i should get back out there.” melissa says the words she’s practiced saying to you in her head. she knew you’d come over today, you always do. she knew you’d see her with gary, and maybe she wanted that. she wanted you to feel how she felt when she saw you and tracy. though as you stare up at her with this kicked puppy-dog expression, she knows you aren’t feeling what she was feeling yesterday. you’re just straight up hurt and it’s written all over your face.
you glance down at the stupid dessert you spent all afternoon perfecting. “well, this is for you, because i wanted to apologize for upsetting you. i can see now you weren’t upset at all.” you have to force yourself to speak, and you surprisingly hold it together as you shove the tupperware in melissa’s hands. you turn to walk back into your apartment, and a wave of regret flashes over the redhead. melissa reaches out for you, “y/n, wait—“ a firm but soft hand wraps around your wrist, but you pull it away from her as you spin around and flash her a dejected look. the sight breaks her heart in two.
“it’s fine. you were right; we’re friends. you don’t have to explain yourself to me. i don’t care who you go on dates with.” you throw the words back in her face, and there’s a flicker of emotions on her face but you turn away and disappear into your apartment. melissa stands there staring at your door; she looks down at the cake in her hands and she hates how tight her chest gets. it’s like her heart might pop in her chest. she doesn’t feel the way she thought she would, and suddenly she mentally curses herself for thinking it’d feel good to hurt you.
melissa is off her game at work the next day. she texts you, and for the first time since you two became friends, you’re the one who doesn’t reply. the redhead realizes she made a mistake. instead of talking about her insecurities or how hurt she was when she saw you and tracy, she ended up jumping the gun and going out with the safest option. gary.
in truth she did like gary; maybe not enough to want to date him, but she found him moderately attractive. she also thought he was pretty funny, and he appears to like her a lot. though none of that was anything compared to what she felt for you. melissa could not stop thinking about you and that hurt face of yours all day. she even decides to cook your favorite food for dinner.
but when six-thirty rolls around, and you still haven’t knocked on her door, there’s a sinking sensation in her stomach. melissa huffs as she looks at the dinner she prepared, and thought of it going to waste angered her. or maybe it was the thought of you just standing her up, even though it’s not like she personally invited you tonight. maybe you think she’s with gary again.
usually melissa is very stubborn, and she would never consider going across the hall and begging you… but she can’t get you out of her damn head. so she takes her ass straight to your door, not even bothering to close hers. she knocks on your door vigorously, not stopping once until the door swings open to reveal you. your hair is damp, and you’re in an old oversized tee shirt; the printing was faded but the hem reached just below your thighs. melissa had to refrain herself from gazing down at your smooth legs.
“i cooked dinner and you’re ready for bed, what gives?” she questions, hating how she sounds like a petulant child. you look a bit surprised to see her, “don’t you have a date with gary and his mustache?” you ask a bit bitterly, and melissa scowls. “it was just dinner, y/n.” the redhead says, and you gaze up into her eyes. “dinner like we have?” you ask, and she huffs in response. “that’s different and you know it! you said it yourself yesterday, there’s more to us than just that.” she reminds you.
“i was clearly wrong.” you sound abnormally stubborn, and melissa sighs in frustration. “i’m not going to see gary again, kid. so just come on over and sit down for dinner.” she commands, and you shake your head defiantly.
“no.” you retort, and she raises a brow, obviously shocked by the disobedience. “no?” she asks you in the warning tone she uses whenever one of her students is testing her. “that’s right, i’m saying no. ever since this started, i’ve always done what you say. i go at your pace, i wake up earlier just to see you, i don’t bake anything with chocolate because you hate chocolate. did you know it’s my favorite? i do whatever you ask to satisfy you. i put my feelings to the side, just to make sure yours are valid. all for my efforts to be outweighed by a guy who restocks the gushers in the vending machine.” you stress, sounding reasonably upset.
“why did you even get so upset about tracy the other day if you were planning on going out with gary? i don’t understand you.” you add, and the dam melissa built to keep her emotions in abruptly bursts. “exactly! you don’t understand me! you’re this young kid who has her whole life to look forward to. this is just a passing moment in your life; this apartment, this city, our dinners, me.” her voice lowers, “you got your whole life ahead of ya, you shouldn’t waste it tryin’ ta’ understand me. you should be dating girls like tracy who are equipped with all sorts of emotions, and able to give you what you need.” she adds, and you frown as she pours her heart out to you. she appears to be full of regret, and vulnerability.
“and what exactly do i need, lissa?” you can’t help but ask, and she runs her fingers through her soft red locks. “you need someone who’ll take care of ya, and show ya how much they care about you. you need someone who isn’t old and afraid of what everyone else thinks. maybe someone who wouldn’t completely embarrass the shit out of ya whenever you decide to take them back to your hometown…” she trails off, now she’s avoiding your eyes and the abnormal, unconfident demeanor causes you to frown. you practically worship the ground melissa walks on; even if she didn’t know it, you were completely enamored by her. it frustrates you to know she doesn’t put herself on a similar pedestal.
“you are the most beautiful woman i’ve ever laid eyes on. when i met you, i felt this instant pull that i had never felt before. god, i don’t think i’ve ever seen anyone as pretty as you, and it makes me so mad that you don’t think of yourself that way. i love you, you know? everything about you; the crinkles by your eyes whenever you smile, the way you curse when you’re angry, your southern philly accent… that irritated frown on your face whenever you’re upset.” you begin to get lost in your words, the space between you both getting smaller and unnoticed. her heart palpitates as you rave on and on about her with this genuine expression of stringent affection.
“you have all these amazing qualities, and you sell yourself short. you’re the best freakin’ cook in the world; the best and sexiest teacher in the world; you’re tough as nails; you have this energy that follows you, it’s fierce and warm. just like you. and as for your age, it’s hard for me too…” the last comment makes her eyes harden, and you’re quick to add, “… but it’s not because i think you’re old, mel. it’s because sometimes i feel like you don’t think of me as your equal. you just think of me as this young kid who’s a burden. but i know who i am, and what i want. i keep a memory of everything you do in the back of my head, and the space in my mind you take up is only getting bigger and bigger. you’re it for me, i’m positive, because how can i see anyone else when you’re engraved in my mind and heart?” you ask her, pouring your whole heart out to her.
your eyes widen when you see the tears threatening to fall from her delicate green eyes. “that’s— that’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me… you— that was more romantic than the vows at my wedding…” melissa’s voice cracks and she tries to put on that stony facade, but it doesn’t work. your words seemed to have broken one of the steel walls she puts up; it’s crumbled into millions of pieces and left her exposed in front of you. her eyes are unguarded and her expression is fragile. she feels so small.
“you can’t just say things like that!” she snaps, her voice higher than usual. you shake your head, “why not? you deserve to hear more good things about yourself, and i can go on all night.” you sheepishly admit, and melissa’s eyes soften when they meet yours. “you really feel that way about me? even though i’m probably older than your mom?” she half jokes, but the self-doubt is leaking through her tone. “you are definitely way hotter than my mother.” you mutter, and melissa gasps but can’t manage to fight to the grin that’s tugging at her lips.
“gee kid, you feel all of that for me and have never even tried ta’ kiss me? what gives?” you can hear the genuine curiosity behind the playful question, and your cheeks turn an embarrassing shade of pink. “i didn’t… i didn’t think you wanted me. i mean, yesterday when i saw you with hulk hogan—“ she cuts in, “gary.” she corrects and you scowl cutely, “whatever. when i saw you with him it kind of reminded me you’re a woman who needs someone to take care of you and i… i’m just a kid.” you look down at your sock covered feet, and before you can even think about anything else, melissa is cupping your face and making you face her.
her lips are on yours in an instant, and the butterflies in your belly begin to repopulate one by one. she pulls away before you can think twice, “you’re not just a kid to me. you’re a good person, y/n. i’m sorry i was so immature about everything.” she sounds ashamed, but the sincerity in her voice makes your heart speed up. your cheeks burn and maybe the kiss sweetened you up a bit. “it’s okay, lissa. i understand… next time just talk to me.” you assure her and she smirks. “or i can just kiss ya again and see where that gets me.” she half jokes, making you grin.
“or that too.”
#melissa schemmenti x fem reader#melissa schemmenti x fem reader angst#melissa schemmenti x reader#melissa schemmenti x you#melissa schemmenti#abbott elementary#melissa schemmenti x y/n#lisa ann walter#lisa ann walter x reader
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Hi, I feel like there’s not enough jealous Melissa fics, so I wanted to request one where reader is a new librarian, and because she dresses really nice Ava immediately takes a liking to her, and Melissa gets jealous because she takes a liking to her too. But obviously at the end Melissa x reader end up together. Can have smut or not, your choice. Thank you!
ask and you shall receive! i hope you enjoy!
Love In the Library
WC: ~3.9k
Your interview at Abbott had gone well- perfect, even. The principal of the school was full of life, and you could tell that you were going to absolutely love it here as librarian. She seemed just as thrilled that you were joining their team- apparently they haven’t had a librarian for a good chunk of time.
You walk into the school on the first day of professional development dressed well- you figured it would be a good idea since Ava dressed so nicely, and you were aware that the students wore their light blue uniforms.
As you enter, you’re greeted by the principal, who tells you that the first meeting of the year will indeed be held in your space, which is entirely fine with you. Hopefully, you’ll be able to meet a few of your coworkers and find the group that you’ll find yourself a part of- that would be nice. First days, even first weeks and months can be daunting, and it’s always a bit easier when you find people who might be in your corner.
You’re seated at your desk and looking over the catalogue of books you have- seeing how you can begin to organize everything (most things weren’t very organized) when the rest of the faculty starts to trickle in. You smile at the few who walk in first, but it immediately becomes a bit overwhelming when more and more people start to make their way in. You find yourself to be grateful that you have your own assigned spot at your desk. They all converse and catch up on what they had done over their summers, and you don’t really know how to insert yourself into any of those conversations, so you just look around and try to find anybody who might be kind to you.
As you’re people watching, a small group of teachers come in. In that group is a short younger woman, a taller black man conversing with a slightly shorter white man, and two teachers who are clearly veterans. The one is absolutely captivating with her pleather pants, heeled doc martens, and the way that her hair is curled softly and falls over her shoulders beautifully. The light pink shirt that she wears compliments her hair beautifully. You catch her take a glance over at you, and you feel a shiver run through your body as her emerald green eyes sparkle in your direction. She’s absolutely gorgeous.
It looks as though she’s going to make her way over to you, but Ava cuts her off by entering the room in what you can always assume is true Ava fashion, what with the mixed groans from the rest of the staff. You stay seated at your desk and watch as the redhead takes a seat at the front table with her friends. Her eyes linger on you though throughout most of the meeting- you can feel her staring at you.
You snap out of your trance when you hear your name come out of the principal’s mouth. You blush bright red, but you give a gentle wave of your hand.
Ava really hypes you up, explaining that you’re the best thing that’s come around to Abbott in quite a long time- that you’re a bad bitch with good fashion, fashion that almost competes with hers.
You see the way that the redhead rolls her eyes at that comment before looking you up and down.
The meeting drones on for a while longer before the staff is able to participate in a few different seminars or set up their classrooms.
You have your head down as everyone mills around, mingling and heading out. That is until you see a hand on your desk. When you glance up, there are those striking green eyes that were staring at you through the entirety of the meeting.
“Hi?” you squeak out.
“You the new librarian?” the redhead asks.
You nod and swallow before introducing yourself, although you know she already knows your name. “And you?” you ask politely.
“Melissa Schemmenti, second grade teacher,” she tells you, and you shake her hand firmly. “I’m gonna need one of the copies of the book, The Name Jar.”
You nod and smile. “I can definitely find that for you. It’s for a beginning of the year lesson, I assume?”
“It is,” she says shortly.
“I’ll have it for you by the end of the day.”
“Thank you,” the second grade teacher smiles at you.
You’re able to locate the book relatively easily, and with a bit of exploring the school, you’re able to find the classroom that has her name on it. She’s in the process of writing out name tags for her students and putting them at the desks when you knock on the door gently.
She glances up at you before pushing her glasses up and off her face, resting them on the top of her head.
“Just dropping off the book you requested,” you say softly. “Is there anywhere specific you want me to put it?”
She stands up straight, rights her shirt, and gives you a genuine smile. You love to see that smile of hers.
“I can take it,” she says softly, and she makes her way over to you. Her hand brushes yours for about half of a second before she actually takes the book from out of your hands, and you swear you feel a rush of electricity between the two of you. “Thank you.”
“Of course,” you smile right back, and she immediately wants to always see that beaming look on your face. “If you need any other books, let me know. I’m going to try to have the library organized by the end of September.”
When you go to get your lunch, the redhead is there, and so is your boss.
“There’s our sexy new librarian,” Ava winks at you. You turn bright red. You know you’re… not the ugliest women in the world, but this is a lot. “Girl, don’t act like you don’t know you look like a Philly eleven in that sexy dress of yours.”
You chuckle nervously as you glance down at the dress you were done up in. You look at the other teachers, and maybe you were a bit overdressed. “Have a nice lunch, guys,” you say as you go to head back to your room.
“I ain’t stayin’ in here to listen to your boring teacher talk,” Ava sighs dramatically. “But I’ll see you all later, losers!” She winks at you again, and you can feel the blush that had begun to diminish come back in full force.
“Oi,” you hear Melissa call out as you’re at the threshold of the door. “Come eat lunch with us.”
You don’t notice the strange looks that your coworkers give the second grade teacher, but you smile softly.
“Really?” Janine asks, jaw dropped.
“Oh, it’s… okay,” you say softly. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
“You ain’t intruding,” the second grade teacher is adamant, so you sit down next to her.
Barbara looks confused, but she doesn’t say anything at all. The teachers take their time getting to know you, and Melissa’s eyes find yours quite a few times, giving you reassuring looks and smiles.
You head out a few minutes before everyone else, and once you’re gone, Melissa’s friends look at her like she’s got three heads.
“What?” the redhead asks as she sips her iced tea.
“When did you get all friendly to newbies?” Barbara asks.
“Seriously,” Gregory puts in. “When I first started, you refused to learn my name for the first month I was here.”
The second grade teacher rolls her eyes. “And look where we are now… might as well give it a shot being nice to the newcomers.”
Barbara eyes her warily, but she doesn’t say anything in front of the full group. When the two of them are walking out though, they see you.
You wave quietly as you stack your things into your car to continue working on your organization, and the gorgeous teacher waves back with a smile.
You climb into your car, pull on your sunglasses, and head out.
“Girl, you like her,” Barbara nudges hr best friend.
Melissa rolls those green eyes of her. “Yeah. I’m the queen of England too.”
The kindergarten teacher hums, and while she doesn’t say anything, she knows that her work wife has a thing for you. It’s clear in her eyes and the way that she invited you in so sweetly.
“Well, maybe this will be good,” Barb states. “We have a new librarian, she seems like a sweet girl, and Ava isn’t making fun of her.”
“No,” the redhead frowns. “She’s flirting with her instead.”
“That a problem for you?”
“Shut up. I’ll see you tomorrow,” the redhead rolls her eyes as she climbs into her car.
The next few days of development go the same for you, organizing the many books, going through the catalogue to see what books you might be able to add to the collection
(whether that be from home or you can try to scrounge up the money to buy them at a thrift store). Melissa often appears in the library, claiming to look for a book, but most of the time she just ends up chatting with you- you don’t mind one bit. You sit with them at lunch, and you quite enjoy getting to hear Melissa laugh and listen to her talk.
Ava still flirts with you everyday, and while her compliments are appreciated, you never fail to turn as red as a tomato.
When the kids start to come into the school the following week, a few of the older ones are shocked to actually have a librarian. Furthermore, they can’t believe that they’ll actually have library as a special.
You begin to learn the children, and they absolutely adore you. You have quickly become one of the kids’ favorite teachers. In the first month alone, you’ve been given a ream of papers’ worth of drawings- it melts your heart. The older ones come and talk to you in the mornings before they actually have to head to class, and the little ones flock to you for hugs whenever they can. It’s safe to say you love being here at Abbott with these kids.
It’s also safe to say that you like most of the staff that you’re with, although you’ve found yourself a part of a certain group; one with the most attractive teacher in the school: Melissa Schemmenti.
You find yourself being drawn to her presence, and she’s drawn to you too. You spend your time with her and Barbara as often as possible, more than happy to listen to whatever the two of them are up to.
But with being friends with them also brings Ava around quite a bit. She is constantly looking for the two of them for advice on how to discipline and run the school. It also gives her an excuse to come flirt with you. Her comments are starting to get more and more scandalous, and she’s practically taking off your clothes with her eyes any time she’s talking to the three of you. You notice the way that the redhead seated next to you almost always scowls.
You almost wonder if you should go to HR for her looks and words.
“Melissa,” Barbara singsongs as the two of them are leaving lunch that day. Ava had come in and shamelessly flirted with you. “Turn that frown upside down!”
“I ain’t in a mood, Barb,” the second grade teacher grumbles.
“That face says otherwise,” the kindergarten teacher clicks her tongue. “When are you just going to admit the fact that you hate that Ava flirts with Y/N because you like her?!”
“I do not,” Melissa rolls her eyes. “I just think Ava needs to stop eye-fucking her anytime she sees her.”
“While I agree with that,” Barb sighs. “No one gets nearly as upset with that as you do, and I think it’s because you genuinely do have feelings for her.”
Melissa bites her lip. “So what if I do? It don’t matter. She’s young, I’m me. And we’re coworkers.”
“Being her boss isn’t stopping Ava from flirting with her,” Barbara points out. “C’mon. Just give it some thought.’
The redhead groans. She knows her best friend knows about her little crush on you now.
The next day, Barbara waltzes into Ava’s office.
“Girl, I wouldn’t usually condone this, but you need to continue to flirt with Y/N as much as possible.”
“That won’t be hard,” the principal laughs. “She’s a fine piece of ass. But why?”
“Melissa has a huge thing for Y/N, and I can just tell that our little librarian has a thing for Melissa too. You know the best way to get her to confess her feelings is to make her so jealous she can’t bite her tongue any longer.”
“Damn, you don’t think I got a shot?”
“Ava,” Barbara rubs her temples. “Might I remind you that you are in a relationship.”
“And?”
“Ava!”
“What?” Ava raises her brows. “You think I don’t want to-”
“You know what? Nevermind,” the kindergarten teacher goes to turn on her heels.
“Wait!” Ava calls. “But you really don’t think I have a chance?”
“What I think is that Y/N is a respectful, young woman who would not want to… partake in the activities that you are alluding to.”
“You never know,” the principal shrugs. “What’s in it for me?”
“A nice bottle of wine, and I’ll go out to the club with you the next time you tell us we’re all getting together for dinner but inevitably end up going somewhere else.”
“Oh, hell yeah. But I get to pick the bottle.”
“Only if my plan works, and Melissa and Y/N get their heads out of their asses and date.”
“You have yourself a deal, Barb,” the principal grins before going back to scrolling through Instagram.
Ava’s flirting only gets worse from here, and she purposely does it in front of Melissa whenever she gets the chance. While Barb is naturally appalled at the things that the principal is saying to you, she knows its worth it when she can practically see the steam pouring out of her work wife’s ears.
It’s picture day at school, and you know you’re going to be forced to get your picture taken as much as you don’t want to. So, you apply some light makeup and dress yourself in a white body suit and a flowered skirt that has a rather high slit up the side. It shows off some skin, but you know that you can always adjust the skirt if necessary so it’s not too revealing.
That was a mistake though- or at least you think it is when Ava starts commenting about you having a body that ‘challenges Beyoncé’. Her eyes linger on your still sun kissed thighs as you make your way into the building. You thank her for her compliment, but you don’t play into it any further than that. You make your way to the break room to drop off your lunch and make yourself another cup of coffee when you run into the redhead.
She looks absolutely stunning. Melissa really hasn’t done anything special for picture day- she just always looks gorgeous to you.
“Hey, good morning,” you say as you fall into step with her. Her eyes rake you up and down, and you feel a blush creep into your cheeks when she subconsciously licks her lips.
The two of you walk into the break room together and are sipping your coffees when the principal comes in again.
She makes an absolutely obscene comment about you and the way that your chest is comparable to that of the redhead’s, despite the fact that you hardly have any cleavage showing. That makes Melissa almost as red as her hair, but she puffs out her own chest. But then… she says something about the slit in your skirt and something about it looks stunning on you, but it would look better on her bedroom floor with her boyfriend.
At that comment, you suck a deep breath in and try to cover how embarrassed your feeling.
“Ava!” Barbara nearly shouts.
“Well,” the principal shrugs at the deafening silence in the room. “I have to go do principal things, y’all.”
As Ava leaves the room, the kindergarten teacher gives Ava a look, but it’s almost a mildly impressed look.
You can’t look at anyone, so you practically rush out of the room with your coffee.
At your sudden exit, Melissa looks furious. “I have to go do some work.” She storms off, and out of the room in order to go yell at her boss for embarrassing you in front of everyone.
“I should check on Y/N,” Barbara says softly before following your direction. She knows that those comments made you more uncomfortable than any of her others, and she knows she has to stop you from making a complaint to the HR department about the conversation that just took place.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Barb says softly as she enters the library.
Your hands are in your head, and the red in your cheeks hasn’t disappeared in the slightest.
“H-hey,” you mumble.
“Don’t mind Ava,” she tells you softly. “She used to say stuff like that to Gregory all the time, and eventually she’ll move on to someone else.”
“Does she always do this? Shouldn’t she get into trouble for that?” you ask quietly.
The kindergarten teacher waves a hand. “Our HR department never does anything but bounce the emails back to the principal of the person who sent them… the last time someone did that, we had a ‘bonding session’ because Janine emailed them. It’s not even worth your time.”
“But… that was…”
“A lot,” Barbara sets a gentle hand on your shoulder. “I know. But trust me on this one: it isn’t worth it. And she likes you, so she’ll be willing to help you out when you need it. If you report her, she’ll only make your life that much harder. Just let her flirting die out, honey.”
You frown. “I guess… I need this job.”
“I know.”
“And I love this job.”
“We love having you here,” the older teacher squeezes your shoulder gently. “And the kids- they absolutely adore you. We hope you’ll decide to stay with us for a long time.”
“Y-yeah.”
“Are you okay other than all of that?”
“Yeah,” you say softly. “Thanks for checking on me.”
“Of course, sweetheart,” Barbara smiles at you charmingly.
She exits, and you sigh. You should probably talk to your boss about the things that she says to and about you… how it makes you uncomfortable. So, with your head down and cheeks still burning, you make your way down to the office. You stop just short of the principal’s when you hear a familiar voice shouting at the woman you were going to talk to.
“Ava!” the redhead storms into the office. “What the fuck?!”
The principal laughs. “What, girl?”
“What the hell was that? The shit you were sayin’ to Y/N in the break room? I know you usually say stuff you shouldn’t, but God dammit, that was over the line!”
“And? Why do you care so much?” Ava asks nonchalantly. “You jealous?”
“Jealous?” Melissa glares, looking utterly confused. “Why the hell would I be jealous of saying absolutely deplorable things to the sweet girl? Why on God’s green Earth would I be jealous of saying the absolute truth that she’s hot as hell?”
Ava smirks. “You think she’s hot?”
Fuck. Melissa’s been caught.
“You think Y/N’s hot?” Ava grins.
“No!” the redhead rolls her eyes. “I just don’t think you should be sayin’ shit like that to her!”
“You think she’s hot!” the principal singsongs. “Girl, just admit it!”
“Okay,” the redhead sighs. “If I admit that I think she’s hot, you can’t keep saying stuff about her like this.”
“Say it,” Ava teases.
“Ava,” Melissa groans.
“Say it!”
“Okay,” the second grade teacher huffs. “I think she’s hot. I like her, and not just for her looks. Now stop talking to her and about her the way that you have been.”
“Girl,” Ava grins. “You want me to flirt with her for you?”
“No,” Melissa rolls her eyes. “If and when I decide to make a move on her, I can do it on my own terms. Remember, I am a Philly eleven.”
With that, she turns on her heel and exits the office… only to bump into you.
Your eyes are wide, your cheeks and ears are burning, and… did she just admit she thinks you’re hot? The woman that you’ve developed a small crush on actually has a thing for you too?
“Shit.”
“Uh…” you nervously tuck a loose hair behind your ear.
“How much of that did you hear?” she asks you quietly.
“I uh, have to talk to Ava,” you evade her question.
You don’t give Melissa a chance to say anything else before you knock on the door and enter before closing it behind you.
By the time you’re finished with your conversation with Ava, you barely have time to run down to the library before you know the kiddos will start trickling in… and you’re not entirely sure you even know how to approach the situation you’ve found yourself in with the redheaded teacher.
That’ll have to wait.
But when you get to the library doors, Melissa is standing there waiting for you. She looks incredibly nervous as she taps her foot.
“Melissa,” you say softly.
She just takes your hand and pulls you into the library before taking you to your desk- which remains just out of sight from the door.
“Shouldn’t you be in your classroom to wait for your kids?”
“I got Janine to watch them for arrival,” she tells you. “How much did you hear?”
“Enough,” you say softly. “You are a Philly eleven, you know.”
And then you press your lips gently to hers. She kisses you back just as softly, and you can’t help but pull her in a bit closer.
But then you have to pull away. You know the older kids that come to your room will be there far too quickly, and you really don’t want them to catch you kissing their old second grade teacher.
“Y/N,” Melissa whispers.
“Go back to your classroom,” you say softly. “The kids that come to me in the morning will be here soon, and I don’t need rumors about the two of us going around.”
“Yeah,” the redhead agrees. “That probably wouldn’t be too great.”
You hum.
“So…” she says quietly though. “I’ll see you at my house tonight for dinner?”
You nod.
“It’s a date,” she promises as she squeezes your hand gently. With those words, she leaves your room just as one of your kiddos is coming in.
“Hey, Serena,” you smile softly. You immediately turn on your warm teacher voice, and Melissa can’t help but turn around and watch as the student comes over and embraces you.
The sunlight through the window hits you perfectly, and you look angelic.
While Melissa had initially taken a liking to you because of your looks (you might just be a Philly twelve), the heart of gold that you have is what made her really fall for you.
#melissa schemmenti#melissa schemmenti fanfic#melissa schemmenti x you#melissa schemmenti x reader#abbott elementary fanfiction#abbott elementary fanfic#abbott elementary
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52,54,32, and 37 on the prompt list with melissa schemmenti pls😩🙏🏼
Mommy Knows Best ~Dark!Mommy!Melissa Schemmenti xFem CollegeStudent!Reader
Summary— Reader has been best friends with Melissa’s daughter, Abigail Schemmenti, and she has always butted head with Melissa… One fateful holiday break changes it all. Anon Response— Hi hi anon!! Thank you for the request! Absolutely. This went a little dark, but also a good amount of smut. Hope you Enjoy! ♥️
Mommy… Master List
Requests & Prompt-List
#52. “Fuck… Mommy! … Oh my, I’m so sorry, it just… slipped out…?”
#54. “You can call me Mommy/Daddy if you want too…”
#32. Enemies to lovers troupe
#37. Best Friend’s Mom Troupe
Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!!, heavy smut, dark fic, fingering, strap-on riding, age gap (all legal), enemies to lovers, best friends mom, degradation, praise, smutty smut, mommy kink, degradation kink, praise kink, overstimulation, overstimulation kink, teasing, taunting, implied future smut, etc.
Enjoy (;
“Hey An’ you gonna keep that door open, right Abigail??” Your best friend’s mother shouted from the kitchen.
You rolled your eyes lightly at Melissa’s, as she insisted you call her, comment, as Abi, your bff, yelled back at her mother.
“Ughhhh Mooooooom, I’m not in high school anymore!!” Abigail yelled from her bedroom on the ground floor, “And I’m not even gay!!!”
“Doesn’t matta’!!! I am your mother, Abigail Ruth Schemmenti, and you will leave that door open!!” Melissa’s thick accent boomed through the house.
Now it was Abigail’s turn to roll her eyes, as you looked at her in apology for what she had to deal with.
“Fineeeee!!” Your best friend shrieked back, leaving the door to her bedroom ajar, before turning her attention back to you.
“It’s not like I would do anything anyway…” you grumbled in annoyance, from the edge of Abi’s childhood bed, “I don’t like you like that…”
Abigail came to sit on the edge next to, leaving against the headboard as she rolled her eyes once more.
“I know, my mom, she’s just… ughhhhh!!” Abigail groaned, squeezing her fists together dramatically in the air.
“Yea…” you chuckled, “At least you don’t have to see her much anymore… well except holidays and breaks…” you comforted her.
Abigail sighed.
“That’s true… Anyways, to you…” she said, quickly changing the topic to something more upbeat and less tension filled,
“You still banging that hot redhead…?” Abigail said in a low tone, while wiggling her eyebrows.
You looked away in awkwardness, clearly not wanting to discuss that subject. You and Abi had been friends since middle school, so she knew your cues. And Abigail immediately understood that she had touched upon a sore subject.
“No, it’s fine… It just… didn’t work out…” you muttered.
“Hey, it’s okay…” Abi comforted you, coming forward to grab your left hand on the bed, but you pulled away, so she retracted, leaning back against the headboard.
You finally looked over to your bff after a moment in sadness and embarrassment.
“Sorry…”
“Don’t be. You’re my best friend. When you’re ready to talk about it, I know you will…” She reassured you.
You gulped and then nodded. Abigail then met your gaze with a mischievous smirk, before proceeding to throw a pillow at you. The fluffy square hit you right in the face, making you yelp and look at your bff in mock shock.
“Hey!!” You exclaimed, then throwing it back, but missing terribly.
Abigail was laughing, and soon you were as well. Her laugh was always so infectious. Your best friend always knew how to make you feel better. After you had both caught your breath, you spoke,
“So, how’s college for you?” You asked.
While you she chosen to stay in Phili for college, Abigail had gone to Chicago. It was the ultimate betrayal against her mother, and you knew that Abigail needed an out. You always looked forward to holidays and breaks, because that meant that you would get to see your best friend again.
“Don’t tell my mom… but it’s so freakin’ nice…” Abigail sighed with a little giggle, leaning in close so that only you would catch her confession, “And… I met a guy…”
Your eyes widened and you smiled wide. Your eyes lit up, you were truly excited for your best friend. You smacked your best friend’s foot playfully.
“Alright!! Let’s go, Abi!!!” You exclaimed in a low whisper.
Abigail went a little red and giggled even more. She was about to delve into more detail about this new mystery man, before Melissa came into the doorway of Abigail’s room.
“Abigail, Momma needs some mozz and a couple other things for her lasagna tonight… Run to the Italian bistro that Uncle Joe runs and pick some up fresh for me?” Melissa spoke leaning against the doorframe, asking it like a question, when it really was an order.
You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Abigail couldn’t say no to her mother, especially in person. Abigail immediately agreed, and Melissa was quick to flash a fake smile and hand her daughter a list of a dozen things that would take Abi at least and an hour and a half to acquire.
“I’ll go with…” you mumbled, as Abigail got ready to leave.
Standing up and grabbing your coat from the nearby chair, you went to walk past Melissa and follow Abigail, but Melissa grabbed your arm, halting you in place.
“Stay.” She purred, flashing another one of those sickening smiles.
Your stomache flipped upside down, and your eyes widened. Abigail was at the other end of the hall, towards the living room, grabbing her keys and turning back towards you.
“You coming?” Your best friend asked.
You gulped, looking from your bff to Melissa, then back to Abigail.
“I… Actually I think I’ll stay… Help M-Melissa with all the cooking…” you stammered.
Abigail looked at your quizzically, but Melissa was swift to turn on her heels, now facing her daughter.
“No worries right, you can handle it alone, can’t you Abigail…?” Melissa cooed, batting her eyelashes at her impressionable daughter.
Abigail stammered a yes before promptly leaving out the front door. You gulped and just stood there, a little awkward. Melissa after a second then turned back to you.
“Why don’t you help me in the kitchen, hmmm babe…?” Melissa cooed sweetly.
Shivers went through your spine and the lump in your throat became apparent at the pet name, and you just stared at the woman, frozen in the moment. Then linking her arm in yours, Melissa guided you to kitchen before you could even respond.
She let you go at the kitchen island, leaving you there as her hips swayed to the liquor cabinet. She reached up and opened the cabinet, then twisted her gaze to you, a certain glimmer in her eye.
“You drink, ‘Hun…?” Melissa coyly asked, “I assume you do by the way my liquor cabinet was always raided, and Abi is such a good girl, she would never drink unless influenced by someone like you…”
Your mouth stood open as you stood frozen once more at the kitchen island counter. Melissa chuckled, pulling you back into reality and registering the dig that your best friend’s mom had just made to you. You gritted your teeth and stared daggers into the woman as her back was turned to as while she got two classes and some red wine.
She came to the other side of the counter, popping the wine cork and beginning to pour two glasses. Your heart was racing and you were fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.
“I only drink on occasion…” you grumbled, answering Melissa’s question, “And you’d be surprised at what Abi does…”
Melissa flashed you a wicked smile and cocked her eyebrow, handing you the glass filled with the alcohol. You immediately took a sip or three to try and calm your nerves.
“Oh is that so…?” She hummed, coming around the island, wine glass in hand, and linking her free arm in yours once more,
“Why don’t you tell me all about that, and maybe I won’t bust you for being a minor consuming alcohol…” Melissa teased, as she guided you into the living room.
“S-she’s my best friend… I’m no snitch…” you breathed out, your heart pounding in your ears.
Melissa chuckled and guided you to the two person love seat in the living room, sitting down next to you, and taking a sip of her own wine. You followed suit, sipping more of the red, liquid courage. It tasted sweet and expensive.
“Touché… I knew there was something about you…” she purred.
Melissa held her glass with her left hand and placed her right on your left, exposed thigh. Your eyes widened and you looked at her hand. Sparks of electricity rushed through your entire body, all ending up in the same place, your throbbing core. You gulped, turning you attention to your glass and taking some more sips of alcohol.
“Back there I heard something about a certain redhead… Why don’t you tell me about that…?” Melissa hummed, that wicked smirk back on her face, with a tilt to her head.
Her fingers started to caress your thigh, and you weren’t sure whether you deeply regretted or thanked god that you had decided to wear a skirt today.
“I… I was seeing her… but… she cheated on me…” you stammered, looking at your wine glass as your swirled the red liquid in the glass.
“Poor Cucciolina…” Melissa purred, with an edge to her tone,
Her fingers worked their way further up your thigh, you felt your pussy clench around nothing. You felt the woman’s lips graze against your ear, making your breath hitch.
“I would never do that to you…” Melissa purred in the shell of your ear.
Your stomache was bursting with feelings, twists and butterflies and knots and rocks. Your lips parted as you let out an obviously desperate whimper. Melissa chuckled darkly in your ear. Then you felt her warm mouth on your neck. Your neck immediately craned back for her access, and you let out breathy groan as she sank her teeth into your skin.
At this point you knew you regretted nothing, the pleasure and intensity was all worth it. You knew it was probably wrong, that this was your best friend’s mom. And this woman drove you crazy… you hated how she treated your best friend. She was certainly never mom of the year.
But as her mouth wandered down your neck, you knew you needed more. Sucking, and licking, and biting, and marking all along your exposed, goose bumped skin, all logic and ideas of right and wrong were thrown out the window.
Melissa, it seemed, had already placed her glass aside on the side table, and as she sucked a bruise along your neck line, her hands followed your arms and proceeded to take the glass away from you. She pulled away momentarily, making you whimper and and try to lean into her touch, but Melissa was quick to put you back in your place.
“You take what you are given… Understand…?” Melissa purred warily, the hand on your thigh tightening and threatening to leave a mark.
You sucked in a breath, straightening your back as you swiftly nodded. The woman then eased her grip to your thigh and brought your glass up to your lips, pressing and tilting it into your mouth.
“Good. Now drink up…” She breathed out, smirking as you immediately complied.
You gulped the rest of the sweet yet tangy liquid down. Melissa then set the glass aside. As some of the excess wine dribbled down your chin and neck, Melissa leaned forward, her tongue expertly licking up all the dribbled wine from your exposed skin. Your pupils darkened and blew out at the sight, your heart faltering at how hot your best friend’s mom looked while licking up the red liquid from your skin. You shivered once more at the thought of how good her tongue would feel in other places…
Melissa read your reaction like a children’s picture book. She drank in your blown out pupils, erratic breathing, goosebumps, and much more to come… Her fingers now dipped into your inner thighs, her access stunted by your closed legs. They stopped moving, teasing, and it made you want to scream. Scream at the woman to keep going. Scream at her that she was insane. Scream that this was wrong. Scream and beg her to not stop. Scream out in many expletives how much her teasing was driving you crazy. But all that came out was a pathetic whimper.
“Awwwww… Are you conflicted, ‘hun…?” Melissa mockingly cooed, her voice dripping with taunts and lust, “Can’t decided whether you want me to hate you or fuck you…?” Her voice purred darkly and lustfully.
Jolts of pleasure and electricity erupted through your core at the woman’s tone, brashness, pet name, and use of an expletive. You bit your lip as you let out a breathy gasp. The combination of the alcohol and her teasing was making you dizzy.
You wanted… you didn’t know what… actually you did. But it was too difficult to admit it to yourself. For years, you had stuffed all your feelings down, you had reverted to others to fulfill your desires. All because it was too hard to accept your desires for your best friend’s mom.
Your desires for the redheaded woman. The desire to have an older, more experienced partner. Your want to be dominated and controlled by the woman that drove you crazy. Your want to throw logic and your best friend aside and kiss her. The woman who was overbearing and controlling to your best friend. The woman who you’d imagined late at night many times when your fingers worked skillfully in between your legs.
As if Melissa knew the exact thoughts racing through your mind, she interrupted,
“You know what I think…?” Melissa cooed wickedly, pushing your legs open slowly just enough to fit her hand in between your plush thighs,
You watched her fingers attentively, as your heart pounded in your head and beads of sweat ran down your face. Melissa proceeded to lick the bead of sweat off of your face and neck.
“I think that you try so desperately hard to hate me… I think you don’t like me because of Abigail… You think I’m a bad mother.” Melissa purred, as her fingers circled patterns deeper into your inner thigh going under your skirt,
Her other hand had put the empty wine glass aside, and was now tugging at your flimsy shirt. She tugged the sleeves down with ease, and cupped your bare breasts. Your eyes fluttered shut as you let out a breathy whimper, internally praising whatever higher power that you had decided to go braless that day.
“I think you project all of this for Abigail and for your own sanity… Because it’s easier to accept than the truth… The truth that keeps you up at night. I keep you up at night…” the older woman continued to lustfully cooe,
But your eyes shot open, your hips jolted forward, and you let out a pathetic mewl, as two of her digits finally ran up and down your clothed core, while simultaneously taking your left nipple in her mouth and twisting your bus with her teeth.
“AhhHhHhh—” you choked out in a mewl, desperate and quickly meeting Melissa’s gaze as she drank you in with a wicked smirk.
If she didn’t have you attention before, she definitely had it now…
“And the truth while you can’t stand the fact of it… is that you can’t help how your body reacts to me… craves me… needs me…” Melissa darkly chuckled, her tone low and seductive by the end.
Your head was swimming and you don’t even remember when it started, but your hips were grinding against the ghost of the woman’s fingers. You let out a shuttering breath, whimpering and moaning as the redhead’s mouth started to mark up and tease your breasts. Her dark, lust glistening eyes met your desperate gaze.
“Say it, Cucciolina… Tell me I’m right. You know I am…” Melissa breathed out, while switching from one tit to the other.
“You—You’re right…” you stammered, panting, completely out of breath.
Melissa seemed to like that, because you quickly felt her two digits back on your core, sneaking around your panties, to find your semi-wet pussy.
“Mmmmm… you aren’t dripping… I’ll fix that.” She lustfully purred, growling the last part in her seductive, low tone.
Her fingers swiftly plunging into your core, your body immediately spasmed, her walls fluttering and clenching around her digits. Your hips stuttered to keep pace with her delicious assault against your cunt.
“Holy Fuck… Mommy!!…” you shrieked, your whole body exploding with pleasure as her fingers curled deep inside you over and over again.
Your eyes widened and your face went beet red at your words. Your hands were gripping the couch tight, so tight your knuckles were white. But that wasn’t your current concern…
“Oh my, I’m so s-sorry, it it just… slipped out…?” You stuttered, not able to meet the woman’s gaze in embarrassment.
But Melissa only smirked even more. Her thrusts and curls of her digits inside your pussy only intensified, fucking you faster and deeper. You groaned, really loud, as her fingers filled, stretched, and scissored your pussy.
“No apologies… you look real pretty, accepting who you really are…” Melissa cooed wickedly, “Look at me.”
Your eyes went wide and you turned your head back to the older woman. Her tongue was swirling around your right bud, and it made you cry out in pleasure once more. This only spurred the redhead on even more.
“Say my name, baby…” she commanded wickedly.
The squelching of her fingers knuckle deep in your pussy, combined with your sinful noises made the room reek of sex and lust. When you didn’t respond, a third digit slipped inside you, the older woman’s pace never faltering one bit.
“Oh Shit MOMMY!!!” You shrieked, her fingers stretching you out even further and your hands only tightening their grip on her couch.
Melissa hummed in delight, her other hand now replacing her mouth at your tits, while her mouth went to assault your pressure point. Your hips jerked up to grind against her hand, desperately seeking friction against your clit. Babbles and string of whimpers erupted from your throat, your mind now fully gone.
“So needy…” the older woman chuckled, continuing all her administrations with lust and intention, “You can call me Mommy if you want too…”
Her words sparked even more intense pleasure throughout your entire body, and you felt your hands start to wander, but your resisted the urge, part of you not being able to understand how this could have switched on such a dime. Part of you still hated her. So your hands stayed off of the woman. But your hips and the rest of your figure told a whole different story… and your moans and whimpers was all the confirmation that Melissa needed.
“Such a slutty girl for mommy, aren’t ya’…?” Melissa cooed lustfully.
The older woman pumped her digits into you with skill, precision, and speed. She watched you with intent gaze, seeing exactly what curl and thrust pattern made you moan and jolt and scream. Melissa was a quick learner, and the closer she pushed you to the edge, the better she learned the pleasures of your body.
“Oh baby… Are you gonna cum…? Need to cum for mommy so bad…?” Melissa taunted you with a dark chuckle.
Your eyes were screwed tight shut as you nodded vigorously. Your mouth fell open in a silent scream as your orgasm crashed over you. Your hips stuttered in their rhythm of grinding into the redheads hand, but Melissa kept up her pace of fucking you through your climax. Even after you came down, the older woman didn’t stop. You squirmed in oversensitive pleasure as she didn’t relent.
“M-mommyyy please…!!” You whimpered, thrashing against her in the amount of intense pleasure you felt as she drove you to your next impending climax.
“Poor little slut… Can’t get enough of mommy…??” Melissa jeered lustfully.
Your hips stuttered as they rutted against her hand. The sounds of your pussy squelching rang in your head, pushing you only further to the edge. You felt like you were being suffocated, but in a deliciously dizzy way. Your mouth was open, your tongue out as you gasped for breaths in between each precise thrust of her digits.
Right as you were approaching your second orgasm however, Melissa pulled out of you. Your eyes flew wide open and your jaw dropped, followed by a desperate whimper. The older woman’s eyes sparkled and she had a wicked grin plastered on her face.
“Hush, baby.” Melissa purred, grabbing you and pulling you into her lap.
You gasped as you felt something in between her legs. You immediately began grinding down on her bulge, your breaths turning ragged and your hands on her shoulders for support.
“Mommy wants your next high to by on my cock…” Melissa hummed with a dark edge to her tone.
You looked up from your administrations and gulped. You nodded vigorously.
“Please” you whispered, “need it… need it so bad mommy…” while grinding roughly against the woman’s lap.
Melissa chuckled and had you undress all the way as well as helping her, so that in a couple minutes, you were back in her lap, naked and ready for mommy’s cock. Your hands came to the woman’s tits and chest, playing with her as she lined you up with her plastic dick.
With a low groan, you began to sink down onto the woman, all the way to the hilt of the strap. You let out a sinful whimper, feeling full but still unsatisfied. Melissa’s hands held your hips in a firm grip, and her back arched into your touch. She tantalizingly wiggled her hips below you, making the strap-on move slightly inside you. Another desperate whimper and then groan left your lips.
“What’s to stop mommy from just having you cockwarm my dick…?” Melissa cooed wickedly.
You quickly met the older woman’s merciless gaze, desperation and begging all over your face.
“No no mommy please…!! Need it, need it so bad… mmm give it to me mommy uhhhhhh…!!” You cried out, your grip on the redhead’s shoulder and chest tightening.
In response, Melissa rolled your and her hips together, pushing her dick up and into you in one fluid motion, before pulling it partially out as her hips came back down. Your mouth opened in a silent plea, as your body convulsed in pleasure, the ridges of the toy overstimulating your tight cunt.
“Like that, pretty whore…? What mommy to give you slow, hard thrusts until you’re destroyed…?” Melissa taunted you darkly and full of lustful intent.
Melissa then continued these extremely slow yet brutal thrusts, pumping the toy in and out of your aching pussy. You wanted to cry. You wanted to cum. Every thrust was just not enough stimulation for you to cum, the woman knew exactly what she was doing. You tried to beg, babbles of pleading erupting from your lips already after the second thrust and every one after that, begging her to go faster, to fuck you rough. But Melissa didn’t listen.
“You need to learn that we do things mommy’s way, little slut… If you’re good, I’ll let you cum… eventually…” Melissa reassured you, after the eleventh tortuously slow pump in and out of your cunt.
You’d lost any and all composure. All your babbling was incoherent now, and you had tears streaming down your face. But anytime Melissa asked you if it was too much or if you wanted to stop, you begged her to keep going, pleaded with the woman to not let you off easy. Melissa’s face washed over with pride every time you cried to her that you wanted desperately for her to continue.
“What do you want, baby…? You want mommy to make you cum right…?” Melissa wickedly purred into your ear, while continuing to fuck you dumb at a brutally slow pace.
You nodded lazily, too cock drunk to say anything but slurred words.
“Pleaseeeeeee mmmommmyy…” you whined.
“Cum for mommy, honey, I know you want to… know you need it…” Melissa purred lustfully.
With one finally thrust into your sobbing pussy, the tight coil wrapped around your entire body suddenly snapped. The most intense waves of euphoria you’d ever experienced crashed over you, and you rocked back and forth in Melissa’s lap, as the woman guided you to ride her dick faster as you came.
“That’s it, such a pretty whore for mommy…” the older woman breathed out.
After a few minutes, you’d fallen limp in the woman’s lap, her cock still buried deep inside you. Melissa chuckled at how you put up a whiny fight as she took you off her cock. You didn’t like the sudden emptiness she now left you with, you wanted to feel her all over you again. Wanted to feel full and owned again.
But Melissa stood up, walking into the kitchen to clean her strap-on, and when she eventually called you into the kitchen, she promptly cleaned you up, before going back to her cooking and acting as if nothing had happened.
~~~
Melissa Schemmenti Masterlist
#melissa schemmenti#melissa schemmenti x reader#melissa schemmenti x you#Melissa Schemmenti x reader smut#Melissa Schemmenti smut#enemies to lovers#enemies to lovers trope#best friends mom#best friend mom#abbott elementary#abott elementary#abbot elementary#abbott elementary fanfiction#abbott elementary fic#Abbott elementary smut#abbott elementary x reader#abbott elementary season 3#lisa ann walter#cissyenthusiast010155 answers#degrading k1nk#degredation kink#praise and degredation#praise#praise k!nk#mommy#mommy k!nk#mommy k1nk#sugar mommy#mommy knows best#mommy issues
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Dark Horse
Summary: As a cameraperson on the Abbott documentary crew, you've always had a good working relationship with Melissa Schemmenti. One flirtatious night at her home sends you spinning as you try to figure out if this is really real—not to mention how everyone at Abbott seemed to know about Melissa's crush on you, long before you ever did. (See author's note at the end for prompt credit.)
Content Warnings: Lots of smut, a bit of emotional confusion, and me having absolutely no idea how filming anything works. I just faked my way through it, very horribly. Oops! :)
AO3 Link
It all starts with a late shoot.
It's just you and the mic guy and one other crew, and your camera trained on Melissa Schemmenti. She talks, in a way she's done rarely so far. A season and a half and she's always conscious of the stare of the lenses, quick to dart around a corner or cut herself off if she knows the opps are listening.
She takes big sips, almost gulps, from her wine glass. She leads you back and forth across her house, reaching over tables or pointing along walls to find a photo here, another there, and talks. "Me'n Kristen-Marie... This one—" pause for more wine—"from my college graduation." It's the two of them, almost mirror images of each other at that age, with a tall man whose lean face makes you think he has to be their father; on the other side of the girls is their Nana.
There's no trick in this photo: no wedding dress, no blood, no hint of drama between the sisters at all. They just look hopeful and desperately young. This feels private, that Melissa could have been so young—something that shouldn't be content for the show—and you feel an impulse to duck the camera away, hide her secret. When you look at Melissa again, she’s watching you; there’s a glitter in her green eyes you can’t interpret: not hostile, and not the look she gets when she’s hustling someone, either. The gaze she’s giving you is strangely soft.
“Whaddaya think?” she says, to you, not to the camera.
You swallow. Nothing you say will make it to the final cut, but the editors will hear your answer, so you can’t tell her she’s beautiful in that picture. “I think I’m lucky you’re showing me this,” you say at last.
Her eyes move over your face. You feel it almost like a touch, intimate and slow, and you aren’t making it up: her gaze stops at your mouth and hovers there. She bites her lower lip before she lifts her wine glass again for another pull. “Maybe I like ya,” she says. “Maybe you’ll get luckier.”
You’re still blushing when you wrap for the night. You sit on your couch at home—you’re always insomniac after shooting at night, your brain and body still buzzing with the work—and put on Netflix on low volume and you don’t watch, just feel your cheeks still burning, thinking about her lipstick on her wine glass.
Of course, the whole crew knows the story by the next morning. When you turn up, Pedro, your best friend on the crew, says, “Look at you! Dark horse!” and it makes your face sear with heat all over again. He lowers his voice, leans in and nudges you. “C’mon, nothing in the contract about that. You deserve a little fun. Let your Italian mama take care of you.”
You cringe. “Please,” you say, “never say ‘Italian mama’ to me again. Okay?”
“Just sayin’,” he says, and leaves it alone.
Of course, it doesn’t leave you alone. You’ve learned the best way to sneak up on a conversation with Melissa and Barbara is to come at it around a corner, so you’re hovering down the kindergarten hall, camera on the two women, when you hear your name, making you stiffen.
“You said that?” Barbara’s voice is incredulous, sharp. “What did she say?”
“Nothin’, really,” Melissa says, “she was on the clock, y’know.” The smile starts in her voice before it grows on her face. It’s a Cheshire smirk bigger and deeper than you’ve ever seen. “She got all flustered. It was cute. You think she knows I was shootin’ my shot?”
“I think you could have ‘shot your shot’ with a little more dignity,” Barbara says crisply. “Like an adult does. Politely. Pleasantly.”
“Soberly,” Melissa says. “Listen, if it works, it works. I just gotta find out if it did, y’know. Work. She’s kinda shy.”
“I didn’t know you cared for that.”
"What, the quiet ones?"
You have to pull away. You're going to miss the rest of the conversation, but your face is burning again, your heart is pounding, and you're grappling with the reality that Melissa and Barbara are talking about you, that you're subject enough between them to be chatted about so casually, that all this footage is... God, are you ever going to live this down?
You'll go shoot some Janine and Gregory. That's always a crowd-pleaser; the audience loves the sweet tension between them, the way the space between their bodies turns tangible the longer their eye contact holds. You try not to think about Melissa's gaze on yours last night. You try to do your job.
That goes as well as you might expect. Fifteen minutes into some uninspiring quiz-grading ("oh, I never fail anyone," Janine says, "I just give 'em a different colored star—they like the gold ones best, so—") Pedro comes to find you.
"Hey, listen," he says, "I need you to come take care of your Calabrian chili pepper."
"What?"
"You know, your spicy linguini. Your Italian ma—"
"Stop." Your head whips toward Janine at her desk and then back to Pedro. The only thing you can think of to say, your heart thumping all over again, is "She's Sicilian, not Calabrian."
"She's giving us nothing. You got to come do her talking head. She keeps trying to square up to Kai and he doesn't wanna fight her."
"What makes you think she won't fight me?"
He gives you a look over his glasses.
The change in Melissa is instant when she sees you approach. Those folded arms, her squared shoulders, her broad, foot-planted stance—it all melts. She leans into the wall, her head tipping, one booted foot lifting for her toe to play in idle lines along the floor, and, yeah. Whether you picked her or not, this is your Sicilian chili pepper, and you swallow hard as you approach.
"Heya, hon," she says, "who's this clown they got me workin' with? Don't they know I only do this with the professionals?"
You mumble a little as Kai looks between the two of you, rolls his eyes, and backs off.
"We were talking about her Friday night plans," Pedro says. "It's school game night and she's not going."
"Yeah, the kids are too easy to hustle," she says, "it ain't even fun. What, do I look like I wanna spend all Friday winnin' their, I dunno, their Yu-Gi-Oh cards?"
Now's when Pedro should prompt her, ask a question. You glance at him; he nods his permission. "Not sure those are a thing anymore," you say.
"Their Pokemon cards," she says. "Whatever. Point is, it'd be like taking candy from a... Jacob."
You don't look at her; you focus on the camera. It's easier than holding her green gaze. "Is that where you draw the line?"
"Gotta draw it somewhere," she says.
You can't help it. Cautiously you look up, try to make your voice neutral: "So how are you going to spend Friday night?"
She lolls her head to one side and looks at you. She sticks her tongue into her cheek. "Prob'ly practicing tricks," she says.
"Tricks?"
"Yeah," she says. "With my magic wand."
You don't really remember the rest of the interview. You sure you babble some other questions, and she gives you some smirking answers, but your head is full of white noise and a singular image: Melissa Schemmenti with a vibrator between her legs.
You're sure other things happen that day. Pedro definitely ribs you some more, you and Kai go get lunch and he complains for a while, Gregory and Janine have one of their not-flirting conversations where he draws up a tightly-plotted itinerary for game night, trying to prove it's possible to run a children's event without delays (it all goes back to his father, of course), at some point you go home and numbly resume your post on the couch in front of your TV screen, trying to make sense of it all.
That picture won't leave your head. You think of the look she gave you that night at her house—intimate, caressing—and how she'd look deep in her pleasure, drunk eyes half-open, her face pink, her hair wild. Does she get naked when she touches herself? She seems too impatient—more like a jeans around her thighs kind of woman—but for a night she's planning ahead—a night she's set aside, just for her pleasure...
Your head drops back and you shut your eyes to see her more clearly. You can imagine the scattering of freckles over her shoulders and chest, the shift of her heavy breasts and the hard peaks of her pink nipples—how does she like to be touched there? Maybe she grabs one breast while she uses the vibrator, plays with a nipple, imagining the rough, confident hand of a lover. You can see the soft field of her belly, the abundance of her hips, her thighs, picturing her cunt, the head of the vibrator against her clit—she doesn't tease, can't tease herself, you imagine, not Melissa.
You can almost smell her sex, you think, until you realize it's yourself you're smelling. Your cunt throbs. You could shove a hand into your underwear now and just take care of it, but...
Your small toy collection lives in a box under your bed. It's nothing fancy, but you do have a small wand vibrator. You peel off your trousers and underwear and drop onto your bed, back against the pillows, holding the purple toy in one hand. Does Melissa have one this size? Or a big, classic one, the kind that could buzz your clit right off? You click the toy on and draw it up your thigh. As it nears the sensitive crease between your leg and your sex, your thigh twitches without meaning to, your clit aching, and you think, okay, no foreplay.
You can't help but wonder as you delve the thrumming head between your folds: does she know you're doing this? Was that the idea—plant herself in your head, grow over everything, including your common sense and your inhibitions, until your whole world flowers Melissa? Could she be doing the same—getting a head start on Friday's plans—thinking of you, right now? You're normally quiet when you do this, but that makes you groan aloud. Your clit pulses.
How does she do this, on a school night, like tonight? Back to the image of her with her trousers halfway down her legs, her hand and her toy crammed into the space between the fabric and her body. You can't help but see her in the outfit from today, that green, clinging top, the black blazer discarded somewhere, slacks caught just above her knees, her hair mussed and tangling against the pillows as she works the vibrator over her clit. No playing games for her, either; just getting the job done, hard and fast.
You come, watching her in your head, her name on your lips; you hope she comes tonight, too, thinking of you, of what she’s doing to you.
The next day, Janine, Gregory, and Jacob are in hushed conversation by the supply closet. You pick an angle from just inside the nearest classroom and train your camera on the slight crack of the open door and you can hear them, even though they think they’re being quiet—classic them.
“I don’t know, what do you think?” Janine is saying. “I think it’s kind of nice.”
“I think,” Gregory says, “it’s like…” He pauses, picking his words. “Like watching a dog shake a chew toy.”
“I think it’s very brave of Melissa,” says Jacob, and your heart drops into your stomach. “Considering the historical era in which she grew up and started her teaching career, being openly bisexual in the workplace must be a very—”
“Please don’t let her hear you call her ‘historical’,” Gregory interjects.
“It’s cute she has a crush on the camera lady,” Janine says. (“Cameraperson,” Jacob corrects.) “I just want it to turn out nice. You know, the vending machine guy didn’t work out, so. And now he doesn’t stock Gushers anymore.”
“Maybe she’ll be a little more relaxed,” Jacob says. “A little more… Open, fun—”
“She’s not going to start liking you because she’s dating somebody.” Gregory, with characteristic bluntness.
“One can hope,” Jacob says.
“The camera lady—person—is so quiet, though,” Janine muses. “Melissa is so intense.”
“Bet that’s what she likes,” Mr. Johnson says, making them all jump. He steps out from the supply closet; he’s holding a Teachers Without Borders coffee mug you know has to be Jacob’s. He takes a long, slurping sip, making sure everybody sees the logo on the cup. “Melissa gets a sweet little thang to take care of. Camera lady gets an Italian mama.” He says it eye-talian. (Where is everybody getting this phrase from?)
“Please don’t say ‘Italian mama’ again,” Gregory says, giving you a little flush of vindication.
“Why not?” Mr. Johnson says. “When I was on tour in Rome—”
That’s enough for you. You decide the rest of the conversation can go unrecorded. You check the time and it’s nearly lunch—thank God, because you don’t want to make eye contact with any of them for a while; you don’t know how to feel about them all talking about you. You know it’s not you, really, they care about. It’s Melissa, her caginess at odds with how boldly, openly she’s been flirting with you, an attraction so obvious even the younger teachers that she’d never confide in can see it.
Something light and effervescent swirls in your stomach, but there’s a leaden weight there, too. Nerves. And desire. You let Pedro know you’re taking lunch and leave your camera behind, finding Kai a block down, away from the school, hitting his vape. He passes it to you and you take a pull, letting candy-scented vapor out of your nose. You don’t really smoke anymore, but anybody would need a little comfort under these circumstances, you think.
“So what are you going to do?” he asks.
“What?” You didn’t know Kai cared about that. “I mean, I guess I’ll talk to her, maybe give her my number, then see—”
“For lunch.”
“Oh.”
You get hoagies together, eating them over a public trash can, standing up. Back at the school you scrub your hands clean in the bathroom and duck Pedro and your camera and you find your way down the second-grade hall to the classroom that's usually the noisiest. It's quiet now: the kids are at the library doing a reading circle with the librarian. Maybe it says something that you know their schedule.
She's in there, glasses low on her nose, working. You pause just on the threshold of the open door. You try to piece together everything you know about her, to make it all fit into the person you see, just a small woman with a love of pleather and a never-ending supply of high-heeled boots, a baseball bat taped under her desk (you've seen it), a guitar propped in one corner of the classroom (does she ever play?), how now she's focused and reading with scrupulous intensity, doubling back on a sentence from time to time, her manicured hand coming up to twitch away a lock of red hair.
You knock on the open door. You see her hand pass under the desk toward the bat before she realizes who's standing there. She cracks a grin, lifting her glasses up to the top of her head. Her eyes travel up and down your body in another look that feels like a touch.
"I was wonderin' when you'd stop by," she says.
You give a little hum. You cross the room to lean against a student's desk, just opposite hers.
"No camera?"
"No," you say, "I wanted it to be just us."
"Huh." She taps her pen on her paper a few times. "You here to let me down easy?" She lifts her chin. The look she gives you isn't intimate now: it's far-removed and challenging, like the gaze of a duelist across a plain. You've seen this before, the way she starts closing herself off, armoring up.
You shake your head. There's a shift in her expression, but the walls don't quite come down. "I guess I wanted to ask what you want."
"That ain't obvious?"
"I mean..." Your arms come up, folding over your chest. "You know, I was here last season, when you were dating that guy... Hulk Hogan."
It surprises a laugh out of her. "Yeah, Gary."
"You asked him out and it was... Different. I mean..." You can't think of how to say it. At last, you say, "Do you take me seriously?" No, that's not it. "I mean, are you just trying to hook up with me? Because, I..." You're starting to burn up again. You rub the back of your neck. "That's not the kind of... Listen, you're beautiful, and sexy, but that's not what it would—I mean, to me, it—"
"You're so cute when you're all shy," Melissa says, sounding equally mystified and amused. She stands. "Look... Maybe I did this all wrong." She circles the desk. "Kinda treated you like a piece of meat."
"Just a little bit," you say.
"I take you serious, hon." She doesn't cross the gap between you two, but mirrors your pose, leaning on the edge of her desk, arms crossed over her chest. "Look, Gare was a nice guy. But he didn't have, you know... He didn't make me wanna..."
You think of Gregory's metaphor. "Shake him like a chew toy?"
Another laugh. "Yeah, that. And I guess I felt... You know, I'd kinda uncorked the bottle, datin' him, when I thought all that part of my life was done, and when you were at my place the other night, you just looked so good, and I just wanted..."
You smile, eyes down. The cold uncertainty is trickling away and there's warmth pouring into the spaces it's left behind. "Okay," you say.
"Okay?"
When you look up, she's moved a little closer. You can smell her perfume again, warmed on her skin over the course of a long day. You've had the privilege of seeing her in detail, so many times: the fine, thin skin around her eyes, the creases at the corners of her mouth that forecast her smile, the tiny hint of gray growing in at her temples, the mellow warmth of her green gaze, the slope of her nose crooking slightly to her left. It's different with no lens between the two of you, when you're close enough to touch.
"Yeah, okay," she says to whatever she sees in your eyes. She lifts her chin and drops her gaze to your mouth. It's a clear request.
You answer it. You dip your head; there's a moment where your noses nearly bump, but you change your angle, catch her lips with yours. There's a tackiness from her lip gloss and an incredible softness underneath. The warmth of her almost shocks you, vivid past your imagining. Her hand pets at your jaw; you feel the other curl into the collar of your shirt. She pulls you closer by the fabric and you gasp.
You renew the kiss, lips sliding over hers. Your hand rubs down her lower back. You can feel the divot in her spine where it meets her pelvis, just above the generous curve of her ass. Before you can overthink it, your palm is gliding over that curve, your fingers digging into its lushness, Melissa gasping against your mouth as you squeeze.
"Oh," she says faintly when the kiss is over and you're catching your breath. "Huh." Her look is glazed and a little bewildered.
"I, um, I don't want to send mixed messages," you say, "but about Friday..."
"Friday?" she echoes.
"Yeah." You bite down on your smile, watching her try to remember what the hell you're talking about. "I was thinking... I know a few magic tricks of my own."
"Oh," she says again. You watch her eyes spark with understanding, her smile appear slowly, then all at once. "I guess you could come over and show me your stuff." Her hands tighten in your shirt and pull you back in for another kiss.
"Hey, gimme your phone," she says, much, much later, when you're wearing more of her lip gloss than she is. "I want to give ya my number." You don't think before you're unlocking it and passing it into her hands. She lowers her glasses from the top of her head to the bridge of her nose and thumbs her way around your phone, creating a contact for herself.
You have a flash of nerves—what if she opens your Instagram and sees all the stupid accounts you follow? A vision comes of her seeing all the dog-using-buttons-to-talk videos you've liked, her libido instantly withering... Then she's giving you back your phone and smirking at you, wiping at your lip with her thumb. "Might wanna stop in the bathroom before you get back to work, hon," she says.
When you leave her classroom, it's like floating; you've never felt so light. You stop in the bathroom and you wipe all the lip gloss off your smiling mouth. You catch yourself humming as you and Kai catch some footage of Ava pretending to organize game night, Gregory trying to involve himself, Janine admitting to a little competitive streak.
Your phone buzzes, chimes. "Sorry," you say to Janine and Pedro, who's leading the interview. You wait until you can lower the camera lens to check the notification. You always keep it silenced during the day—did Melissa turn the ringer on?
Italian Mama
iMessage
Your face burns. You take a corner away from Pedro and unlock the phone.
Italian Mama
You made me real happy
Your blush intensifies; something flutters in your chest. The phone vibrates in your hand as another message comes.
Italian Mama
Don't know how I'm going to wait until Friday
The echo of your own thought in her words makes your heart flutter again. You bite your lower lip and type back, Me neither. An electric spark of daring moves you, makes you send her, Maybe I'll practice some magic just to make sure I'm on top of my game.
Is that too much? You hope not. You've basically made a sex appointment with her for Friday—sex appointment, you think, and wince at yourself, your own awkwardness; it's a date—and you don't—your breath hitches as three dots appear on your screen, showing that she's typing.
Italian Mama
Oh yeah?
Italian Mama
Better practice hard
You feel a pulse low in your belly. You're ready to type a little more flirtation when another message arrives and makes you gasp aloud, quickly clamping your hand over your mouth before Pedro or somebody else can hear you.
She's sent you a photo. It's herself pulling down the scoop neck of the hot pink blouse she's wearing today. You can see just the tip of her nose, her chin, the proud line of her soft neck, her freckled sternum, and, holy shit. She's showing you her breasts cradled in a bra made of black lace. And you stare. And you stare.
Italian Mama
Little incentive for you
Your mouth is watering. You can see the rosy shadows of her nipples against the lace. You barely register yourself typing back, You're perfect.
Italian Mama
Thought you'd like em
You're typing before you can stop yourself. All I'll be able to think about now is what I'm going to do to you.
Three dots appear, then disappear. Appear, then disappear. Your confidence wavers.
Italian Mama
I want you to tell me
You've never imagined you'd be turned on in the halls of Abbott Elementary, but suddenly you're so aware of your cunt, you can't stand it. You're throbbing. You peer around the corner; Pedro isn't even looking your way, he's talking something over about the schedule with another producer. You have time. You glance up and down the hall; nobody except an aide going into a room at the far end.
Your fingers fly over the keys. If you stop to think, you'll psych yourself out, so you blurt out every thought, the iMessage equivalent of babbling—what you'd be doing in Melissa's ear if you could have her right now, in your arms, again...
You're so fucking sexy
I've thought about you so much
I touched myself thinking about you the other night
I'm going to kiss you until you go crazy and you're so turned on you can't take it
I'm going to undress you and I'm going to kiss every fucking inch of you
I'm going to play with you until you're begging
Do you like it rough or gentle?
Three dots.
Italian Mama
Little of both
You're typing again in a flurry. You can feel your heart pounding, your breath coming in harder. You probably only have a couple minutes left to really make her feel it.
I'm going to be so gentle with you until you beg me to be rough
I want to bite you
Do you like being bitten?
Italian Mama
Yeah
I know you do
On your neck, on your breasts
I'm going to bite your thighs before I eat you out
"Homie, you coming?" Pedro says, with the best and worst timing—and phrasing—he could possibly have.
"Yeah, one sec," you say, and you're proud of how your voice doesn't wobble at all. "Let me just send this. Sorry."
I have to get back to work
Italian Mama
Fuck you
Italian Mama
How am I supposed to teach like this
Italian Mama
Come here and finish what you fuckin started
You laugh, breathless and surprised. You text her, YOU started it! If she hadn't sent you that picture... You scroll back up and look again. In the bit of her face you can see, she's smirking, because of course she is. The luscious curve of her breasts—you can almost feel them, what it would be like to drag your nose down between them, mouth at the soft skin...
Pedro's waiting. You send her a bunch of blowing-kiss emojis and put your phone away again. You're still buzzing with arousal, but you feel a strange satisfaction, knowing that Melissa is a few halls away, squirming behind her desk, thinking about all the promises you've made.
The day passes, somehow. It's a strange mixture of slow, syrupy boredom and electric, frenetic activity as more preparations are made for game night, and your phone periodically buzzes with another message from Melissa. Thankfully (for your pussy—you think it might fall off if it keeps aching like that), the two of you leave the subject of sex, and just talk.
She asks you your birthday, your favorite food. Where did you grow up? What's your favorite color? Each one makes you smile. You feel like you're on the receiving end of a Schemmenti interrogation, a mob boss with her goons behind her. You get her answers back in turn: July 19. (You respond in shock, You're a water sign??? and you can almost hear her voice when she dryly responds, I got no clue what that means, hon.) Pasta con sarde. Grew up here in South. Pink.
Your heart flutters with every new thing you learn. Even though you go home (and rub one out) alone, she's a presence with you, not just in your fantasies; you find you're texting her until you fall asleep, phone sliding out of your hand onto the bedspread. And when you wake up the next day, preceding your alarm by a bit, you find a text from her waiting for you, just a few minutes ago: Good morning, baby.
You levitate all the way through Thursday. You spot Melissa a few times that day, but it's a packed day for her two classes, so mostly it's in the hall as she marches lines of students to and fro. She gets you back for yesterday, though: pauses in the doorway of her classroom as she's filing the kids in after lunch, and gives you an up-and-down look of such searing intensity that your body heats, scalp to toes. She smirks before she vanishes into her room.
She makes you crazy. God, she's incredible. You're texting her every chance you both can get, though she's sparser while she's with the kids; it's all light stuff. Get lunch here today, she tells you, Shanae made beef patties, and when Shanae slips you a couple of golden-crusted pastries, you bite into them, smelling warm, floral curry, savory beef on your tongue, and think of how Melissa it is, feeding you from a distance.
That afternoon, just after dismissal, she calls, "Hey," to you from her classroom door. You try not to jump to attention. "I gotta do a lot of work," she says, playing with the strap of her Apple Watch, "or I'd ask you over, but..." Strangely, her eyes drop. It's a hint of shyness and it makes your heart patter, tenderness and affection for her pouring into your chest. "I was thinkin', why don't we go out and get, like, food or a drink or somethin' tomorrow? You know, before you come over."
"Okay," you say. Her eyes flick up and as soon as she sees your goofy grin, her shyness melts away, turns back into the smirking self-assuredness you're more familiar with.
"You pick the place," she says, knocking the wind out of you at once.
Oh, crap. You remember what it was like with her and Gary: he tried to take her to a shitty spot for their first date, and she flicked him away from her like a bug. She's challenging you, you think, asking to be impressed.
You can do that. Dark horse, right? "Okay," you repeat. "I'll pick."
She leans back against the doorframe. All at once she's in that lolling, casual, flirtatious posture that she assumes for you and only you, her face tilted up, gaze intimate and a little sly. "You headin' out? I get a goodbye kiss, or what?"
"Okay," you say a third time, and you can barely kiss her, you're smiling so widely. You take your fill of her, in every sense, one more time before you leave for the day, nerves and excitement and that thread of arousal all tangling together, like a knot of live wires.
You're texting her later, because of course you're texting her later. Do you want it to be a surprise?
Italian Mama
I dunno
Italian Mama
Surprises never seem to work out for me
That gives you a little twinge. You find yourself running the tip of your finger up and down the side of your phone, the way you'd touch her hand or her cheek, if you could. How about just this one? you ask. And if you hate it, I'll never surprise you again?
You wish you could see her face. It would help you know if she's resigned or wary or scared. You don't want her to be antsy or nervous going into tomorrow; you want her to feel like she makes you feel: like you've got balloons and not bones, like a wind could catch you and carry you off, you're so light and so happy.
Italian Mama
Ok
Italian Mama
I'm gonna trust ya
It makes your heart do its now-familiar flutter in your chest. It's like there's a bird in there, some delicate fledgling thing eager to start flying. It wants to soar, holding its precious cargo: Melissa Schemmenti's trust.
The next day. Friday. Friday. Somehow, the school day rockets past you. Game night preparations have gone disastrously, and it's time for a patented Ava save, with the help of Janine and Gregory.
"Wow, who could've guessed," Kai mutters to you, and fidgets in the pocket you know holds his vape.
Your hand fidgets in your own pocket, around your phone. You and Mel exchanged good morning texts, a few kiss emojis, promises to meet up before dismissal to solidify your plans, but you haven't had a chance to see her at all.
"I don't know," you say, "I think they'll get it figured out."
"I think she's probably going to use it to mine Bitcoin somehow," Kai says.
Honestly, that sounds plausible. You shake your head anyway and make an excuse and scoot past Pedro. He's not encouraging Ava to stream game night live on Instagram, per se, but everybody knows that will guarantee some Coleman-style silliness, so he needs to get her there somehow. (Can you mine Bitcoin through Instagram?)
You don't need to send any directions to your feet; they're already walking you toward the second grade classrooms. Mel doesn't have lunchroom duty today, so you know she'll probably be catching up on two classes' worth of quizzes, or restocking art supplies, or prepping the next lesson's props and tools. Her door is shut and you peek in through the window.
She's writing on the whiteboard, looking back and forth from a worksheet in her hand, glasses on her nose. You knock. When she sees you, the narrow-eyed look of interrupted concentration melts away; she gives you a smile that shows her teeth, the kind that changes her whole face, turning her girlish, almost a little goofy. It makes your heart melt.
You open the door. "Hey," you say as she puts her glasses on top of her head and caps the marker. Being in the room with her, after not seeing her all morning, feels like coming out of the cold to a blazing fire. "Uh, hi. You look beautiful today." Then, for the third time, stupidly, adoringly, "Hi."
"You missed me, huh?" she says, putting down the marker and paper. "C'mere."
As soon as you're in grabbing distance, she takes two handfuls of your ass and pulls you in for a kiss. You're lost in it for long, long seconds.
She pulls back after giving your lower lip a bite that makes you squeak. She tucks her hands squarely in the back pockets of your jeans, holding you against her. "You look beautiful today too."
"Thanks," you say, barely registering the compliment, the way you're chasing more contact, kissing the corner of her mouth, nosing at her cheek. She's so warm in your arms. She's wearing one of her tough-girl outfits, a blazer and matching top in military green, and you sneak your hand under the jacket, finding a little stripe of bare skin between her shirt and her slacks. You touch her there with a teasing trace of your fingernail.
She shivers. Is she sensitive on her lower back? You file it away to investigate later tonight. The thought of being able to have her all to yourself tonight—hours and hours—sends sparks skipping through you. You have to kiss her again.
"You think it's unprofessional, doin' this at work?" Mel asks you breathlessly when you part again.
"I don't know," you say, "but whatever Gregory and Janine have been doing is worse, kind of."
"Yeah, that's for sure," Melissa says, and gives you a third kiss; this time, the delicate muscle of her tongue laps at you, little frissons of heat that go right between your legs.
"I came to talk about dinner," you say at last, when you think you can survive without kissing her.
"Oh, yeah," Mel says, "right. What am I wearin'?"
"Uh..." You hadn't considered it. You're just going in your usual date outfit—a button-up, a nice pair of trousers. "Business casual?"
"Okay, easy. Do I get a hint where we're goin'?" One eyebrow goes up. Her gaze acquires a competitive glint, one you've seen a hundred times through your camera. "I bet I can guess it."
"Here's your hint," you say, "it's not Italian."
"Smart cookie," Melissa says, which leads you both into another kiss, and then another. "It ain't a sandwich shop, is it?"
"No," you say, "I can't beat cousin Rocco."
"Soul food," she says.
"No. I'll come pick you up, is that okay?"
"Yeah, come, like, at five. I gotta change and do my face and stuff." She leans back, giving you a squint-eyed look of scrutiny. "Tell me it ain't French."
"It ain't," you promise, and seal it with a kiss. "I have to go. I'm pretending to be in the bathroom."
"Oh, shit," she says, eyes going wide, "we gotta catch up on this freakin' math unit and I forgot, I haven't peed in, like—"
"Go, go," you say with a laugh, letting her extract her hands from your pockets.
When you return, Kai narrows his eyes at you. You shrug at him and you're ready to get back to work, when he reaches across and plucks something off your shoulder: a single red hair. Crap.
"Damn," he says. "Dark horse."
"What's up?" Pedro glances over at you two. Fuck, you don't know if you can take his teasing today—you know he'll want all the details, and you love him, but you want to just get through work and get to Melissa...
"Nothing," Kai says, and drops the hair. He gives you a nod.
You nod back, warmth and gratitude making you smile. He doesn't smile back—you don't think you've ever seen him smile, actually—but you think you see the corner of his mouth curve up, just a little, as he peers into his camera.
Dismissal, a quick goodbye kiss with Melissa, home to get ready. You're normally an all-black kind of girl—it's just easy—but you pause in your closet and find a pink button-up. It's a mellow, soft shade, the same color as a silky blouse you've seen Melissa wear.
You put on your cologne, you style your hair. You look at yourself in the mirror. It’s funny: this is the same face you’ve always had, but three days of Melissa have done something to you. Your eyes look larger, softer; there’s a smile on your lips, small but persistent, that’s been there all day.
You haven’t always been lucky with women. You have love in your heart—God, a lot of it. Sometimes it feels like the water of an ancient lake, going down almost infinitely deep, and yet somehow about to overflow. You spent years going around offering it to anyone who would take it, and once they’d drunk their fill, they just moved on, satisfied, never giving a thought to you, never thinking you might want something back, even just gratitude.
So you pulled away. You just hurt too easily: keep them at arm’s length, never close enough to bruise. The quiet one, the shy one; that’s who you became over time, knowing that if you gave out of your abundance, you’d only be depleted. No one’s ever filled your cup.
You find yourself chewing your lip, staring at yourself. You want this to be different. You want this to be something else. Can it be?
You park your car in front of Melissa’s and find yourself wondering: text, or knock? You’re starting to get out of the car when the front door opens, and a rush of surprise and pleasure comes at the thought of Melissa waiting, watching for you. Then your breath catches hard in your throat.
She’s wearing a little red dress that… “Wow,” you say, before she’s even close enough to hear. The square neck of the dress is cut lower than her usual wear, and shows an abundance of skin that makes your mouth water. There’s a princessy quality to the cap sleeves, a delicate detail that’s perfect for Melissa: blazing, challenging red, with a hint of sweetness. The hem stops just above her knees. The fabric shows her body in intimate detail, the delicate rounding of her stomach and the flare of her hips, straining across the perfect shape of her thighs.
Her hair is down. Even late in the day it has a bit of curl. Her green eyes are like gemstones in the early evening light. Her heels have got to be four inches, but she walks with the steadiness of a queen. She’s the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen.
You circle the car to get the passenger side door. “Hey,” she says, surprised, coming closer, “it’s pink,” and touches your sleeve. It’s not even contact with your skin, barely contact, period, but it sends tingles up and down your arm. “That’s my favorite color.”
“Yeah, I know,” you say, grinning like a fool.
Her eyes drop—that hint of shyness again, that tenderness that makes your heart strain against your chest, trying to reach her—before they flick back up. “How do I look?”
“I could look at you for hours,” you tell her honestly.
"I'd kiss ya, but you'd mess up my face," she says. "Here, you get one." She turns and offers her cheek.
You're smiling as you lean down to kiss the offered skin. She's soft and warm, and you get the powdery scent of her makeup, the richness of her perfume.
"Now, c'mon, feed me," she says, and you laugh and open her door.
You drive. She's exactly the kind of passenger you expected: "Hey, check it," every time she sees a car nosing out past a stop sign, or "On your left," when you're trying to merge. "Hey," she barks when somebody cuts you off, a gesticulating, accusatory hand in the air, "cazzo, you wanna watch where you're fuckin' going?"
Melissa. Abrasive, loud, bossy, and you don't feel bulldozed at all. You feel charmed. The smile won't leave your face. You don't know if she could be more herself than right now, in your ancient Volvo, wearing the sexiest outfit you've ever seen on her, looking simultaneously bold and delicate and delicious, and hollering out the window like an angry truck driver.
She's checking her phone as you pull up outside the restaurant, and doesn't look up again until you're opening her door. "Oh," she says, surprised, looking at the place: it's a red brick building, no sign; just a single hanging red lantern beside a white door. You can see her trying to puzzle it out, glancing at you and back to the door.
"It's a bar," you explain. You open the door to your favorite izakaya. Low, golden light and warmth spill out with the Jrock playing over the speaker system.
Melissa cocks her head and looks at you curiously. You only notice that her hand's in her clutch purse when she draws it out again; you hear the rattle of her keys dropping back to the bottom. "Thought you might'a been about to take my other kidney," she says. "I was gonna fight ya."
You blink. It's one of those Melissa-isms, delivered in her dry voice, that you think might be a joke, but it might not be, either. "I wouldn't win if you did."
"You sure as hell wouldn't, baby," she says, and lets you hold the door for her as she steps inside.
You love this place. It feels a bit like your first apartment after you left home, a lot of exposed brick, shoddy white paneling creating an accent wall, and decor that's a little vintage, a little silly: a big, ornate mirror that might have once decorated a cheap theater, brass sconces for lights, Gojira posters in the style of classic ukiyo-e. There's booths on one side of the room and a mirrored bar on the other, with a wall of sake and Japanese whisky.
The hostess recognizes you, waves hi, gestures toward the room for you to seat yourself. It won't start filling up until a little later, so you have your pick of the booths; you take the side that puts your back to the door, letting Melissa have the sightline to the exit.
The low light flatters her. Any light flatters her, but there's something about the dim, intimate, golden warmth of it that makes you stare as she studies the menus, first the drinks, then the food; her eyelashes cast delicate shadows on her cheek, the curve of her lips carving lines there.
She looks up and catches you. The thoughtful twist of her mouth turns into a smirk. The question, though, isn't what you were expecting. "What made you pick here?"
Huh. "I..." You rub the back of your neck, dropping your gaze. "I really like it." That's a start, but not all of it. "I thought you might not have this kind of food all the time. I never see you eating it and I wanted you to have a nice change. And..."
"I come here alone a lot." You shrug. "I have... Good memories here." They are good memories: people-watching, trying new drinks and food, chats with the bartenders, a karaoke night where you fell in with a group of laughing, drunk women who all worked at the same office, who tried to persuade you to bar-hop with them until last call.
But it's always been you, alone; sometimes folded in with somebody else out of goodwill, sometimes noticed for your familiar face and your generous tips, spared a few more minutes of a busy mixologist's time, but always a separation, a glass wall between you and the rest of the room. No one's been on this side of it with you before.
"I wanted you to have a good memory," you say, finally. "I wanted to share it with you."
You glance at Melissa. She's watching you with a look you recognize. It's the one she gave you that night at her house—just earlier this week, but it feels like a lifetime ago. It's tender and intent. It's encouraging. Like she's watching a flower bloom.
"It's already a good memory for me, hon," Melissa says. Something nudges your ankle. It's her foot in its killer heel, gently insinuating between both of yours. You feel her knee against yours, your calves aligned together. She smiles at you. "We're here together."
Your heart does one of its aerial flips.
"You sure get shy for somebody who was talkin' about suckin' my tits before, though," she says.
You choke on nothing. Your face and ears burn. She laughs, her head dropping back, the light glinting on her saints' medals.
"Biting," you squeak, when you can get air. "We were talking about biting."
"Biting," she says, "right. How come you can say all that to me but you're nervous tellin' me you like a bar?"
It's not a bad question. You trace the grain of the wooden tabletop for a second or two, eyes down. "I'm used to giving other people what they like," you say. "I don't mean—it's not that I was lying or faking. No way. I meant it, I mean it, everything I say to you. So much, Melissa." You dart a look up to make sure she understands. "I mean, it's easy for me... For other people, I can express..."
Her hand finds yours on the table and stills it. Her manicured finger gently swipes along the curve below your thumb, down to the sensitive inner skin of your wrist, and traces slowly there, back and forth. She's giving you that look again, gentle and focused and intimate. "I get it," she says simply.
A rush of relief fills you, settling the rattle of your anxious nerves. You turn your hand over and hers settles into yours.
The server appears for your drink orders. You order the house sake, and Melissa says, "Yeah, me too." With your small glasses of sake, the two of you pore over the menu, picking a few things Melissa knows, a few things she's never had before.
The first few plates come out: shumai, hamachi, a bowl of spicy pickle. She gets pieces of toro, unagi, and salmon, and you get a roll and a plate of chashu buns. She gives those a look of pure lust.
"Take one," you say, and push the plate toward her.
She doesn't hesitate. At her first bite, she lets out a guttural moan that goes right between your thighs. You're suddenly much more aware of her ankle still caught between both of your own.
"You think I could get this recipe?" she says of the chashu after the bun has vanished.
"I think you can get whatever you want." Especially from you, especially if she keeps making those noises.
"I sure can," she says with a flirtatious bat of her eyelashes.
You've seen Melissa eat before, scraping the last bite of salad out of a tupperware or sipping from a Stanley Tucci mug, but it's different like this, sharing a meal. You love watching her small, plump hands with her chopsticks, her drinks; you love her expressive eyes, the way they widen or flutter shut at a perfect bite. Everything she tries she makes you try—insistent, "Here, you taste," like you're not the one who's had the whole menu before, and you oblige, trying to taste it for the first time, like her, letting each one blossom over your tongue, letting yourself fall under her spell.
The bar is packed by the time you're through and she's nibbled her way through a couple of frozen mochi. "We gotta come back here," she declares as the two of you leave, hand in hand. "I wanna try more. You got good taste."
"Yeah, I do," you say, looking at her. It's full dark now, but the streetlights and the moon illuminate her, outlining her red hair in silver, the shape of her hips.
"You gonna take me home now?" she says. She moves closer. "You made a lotta promises, you know."
"I know." Your hands settle on her hips. She tilts her head up; you catch her lips, tasting the plum wine you two shared. It's your first real kiss of the night, and she's mellow, soft, delicious. Still, you tell her, "We don't have to, tonight. I want to, but I don't want you to think..."
"I know," she says, and gives you another kiss. "If I thought you were buyin' dinner to make me put out, I would'a had way more food." Another kiss. "Come on, let's go. Or maybe you don't wanna get lucky?"
You drive back to Melissa's place, her hand on your thigh the whole way. Back over the welcome mat that reads GO AWAY, into the picture-lined place where it all started over a glass of wine.
Melissa takes your coat and her own and gives you her back, hanging them up in a closet by the front door. "I can get you another drink," she's saying, but all you can see is the back of her dress: the silver line of the zipper running from collar to hem, almost invisible.
You move closer and she stiffens when she feels you there, your chest to her back. You gather her hair, move it aside. Above the collar of the dress you can see the line of her nape and the muscle where her neck and her shoulder join. You lean down and kiss it.
Breathing in, you can smell her perfume again, her makeup again. Now, her skin. It's a scent you couldn't begin to describe, something living and animal and sensuous. And her hair: warm, intimate, a little bit of hairspray. You kiss the side of her neck.
"You have no idea," you say quietly. You nose against the shell of her ear. Its soft cartilage is cold from the night air outside, but warming quickly, flushing pink as you kiss it. "You have no idea how gorgeous you are. You don't know what you've been doing to me."
You lift your hands and find the tongue of the zipper. Her breath hitches. You slowly draw it down. The rasp of it is loud between your bodies.
The band of her bra. Red lace. Down her back to the luscious curvature of her hips. You're holding your breath. Her panties are red lace, too, a high-waisted thong that hugs her belly and hips but, oh, fuck: leaves her ass almost totally fucking bare. Of course, in that clinging dress. Couldn't risk panty lines.
"Jesus fucking Christ," you say, and slide the dress fully off her body. It's a puddle of red fabric on the floor. You push her chest-first against the closet door and drop to your knees.
"Oh my God," she says weakly as you hold her hips and kiss your way up the back of one thigh, then the other. The flesh here is dimpled with cellulite, a mark of her perfect abundance. You nose over the curve of her ass and bite one cheek and she squeaks and gives a weak, "Huh," afterward, like she'd surprised herself, and you bite the other cheek and her hips rock back into you.
She's still in her heels. You're starting to smell her sex. You think about having her bend over and put her hands against the door and let you eat her from behind until her knees shake and give out. Fuck, you want to, but you've been making promises; you have plans.
You straighten back up, brushing kisses up the line of her spine. "I want to see your bedroom."
"Fuck," she says dizzily. "Okay. Uh..." She starts to step away from the closet door and for the first time all night, she wobbles in her heels. She gives a little growl of frustration that's so Melissa you can't help but laugh, making her glower your way as she toes out of the shoes.
She leads you up to her bedroom. The big bed is made, but there are plenty of signs of life: the vanity against one wall, scattered with makeup; the bedside table with a dog-eared book and a pair of her glasses; there's a bra tossed over the cracked closet door.
She turns to face you, unself-conscious, and grabs you for another kiss, deep, dirty, her tongue licking into your mouth. "Can't believe you wore my favorite color," she says breathlessly, and starts fumbling with the buttons of your shirt. "God, you look so hot."
Your shirt's halfway open when you get your mouth on her neck. She groans, hands loosening on the fabric. Soft, right along the line of her jaw, under her chin, down her throat where you feel a moan vibrate through the skin. "Harder," she says.
You stay soft. The hollow of her throat, her clavicle. You nose one strap of her bra. She whines, "Harder," and grips your hair.
"I told you," you say. "I'm going to make you beg." She gasps. Your cunt pulses. You wonder if the same thing happened in her classroom that day, if she sat at her desk squirming, little hitches of her breath betraying her.
You squeeze her ass and she sways into you. Your hands shape her hips, up her sides, over her back, feeling the landscape of it, the valley of her spine. You trace the band of her bra. It's so pretty, you almost don't want to take it off.
"Where's your vibrator?" you ask.
"Huh?"
"Your vibrator," you patiently repeat, and lean back. You see in her eyes when it clicks. She leans away from you toward the nightstand, pulling open the top drawer. Inside, there's a pack of melatonin gummies, a lavender and chamomile room spray, a mini bottle of Jack Daniels, and a hot pink wand vibrator. Her sleep aid drawer, you realize.
You pick up the toy. It has a good weight, and the silicone is almost as soft as her skin. You find the power button, click it on, and cycle with a few presses through the three strength settings. You settle back on the first one and test it against the inside of your wrist, feeling the rumble against the sensitive skin there.
You look up again and Melissa's sitting on the edge of the bed. She's breathing hard, staring at you, and she's blushing.
"Lay back against the pillows for me, baby."
She scoots back, gives you a challenging look, and spreads her legs. You can really smell her, a thick, rich, saline scent that makes your mouth water. The drawer's still open and you spot a small bottle of lube; you take it out just in case, then slide the drawer shut.
"You gonna get naked?" she says as you join her on the bed.
"Not yet," you say and kiss her again. And again. The vibrator sits on the mattress, turned off, and you want to make her forget it's there. You take your time, licking at the serrated edge of her teeth, sucking on her lower lip until she's whimpering.
You couldn't have imagined that sound coming from Melissa Schemmenti. You chase it, have to have it again. Her lipstick is smeared, almost gone. She keeps tugging on your hair as you kiss her, starting to squirm beneath you, saying things like "More," and "Harder," but not please—not yet.
She slides down against the pillows, laying herself more fully under your body, and the motion makes the vibrator roll down the mattress to bump her side. Her breath speeds up all over again, and her eyes flick from it to you.
You pick up the toy and click it on. "Keep your legs spread."
"Oh, fuck yes," Melissa says, then whines aloud when you touch the vibrator not to her clothed pussy, but to the inner crease of her thigh. "Fuck, c'mon."
"C'mon, what?" You trail the vibrator up the inside of her thigh, toward her knee, and back down again.
"You know—" her breath stutters when you switch legs. "You know what I want."
"And you know what I want."
That makes her moan. Her head drops back, her chest heaving. You lean down to kiss her sternum, to finally nose against one perfect breast, the way you've hungered for it since that photo. The lace of her bra scratches your cheek. You can feel her nipple through the cup, taut against the fabric. You bring the vibrator up and tease its rumbling head over that peak, making her shudder, then replace it with your mouth, letting her feel the heat and wet, just barely, still separated from you by her bra.
"God, fuck," she says, "fuck you," and you switch breasts, teasing her other nipple to aching stiffness. You nuzzle the skin that her bra offers up, the plump perfect roundness of her breast, part your lips, drag your teeth over it. She's so soft here, so much, and it's perfect. Your hand drops with the vibrator and you trace it over her hip toward her sex, making her squirm, as you busy yourself with soft bites and sucks.
You change your angle a little, propping a hand against the pillows so you can lean over her. Your body casts a shadow and her green eyes look up at you from beneath it, somehow both pleading and mutinous. You idle the vibrator back up along the waistband of her underwear and then slowly down toward her cunt, playing it over the plumpness of her mons.
"Fuck," she says, "fucking fuck you, okay, please," and you smile. "Please, I said please, will you fucking please—"
You bring the wand down over her pussy. Her head rolls back and she groans, starting to squirm. "Pull down your bra for me," you say.
"What?" Her voice, face, are foggy and vague, but after a few seconds she understands, lifting her hands to tug down the bra's cups, showing you her perfect breasts. They're begging for your mouth, and you promised her you'd give her what she wanted when she begged, didn't you?
You drop your head. Kiss over one breast, then the other. Mouth at the flesh—so fucking soft, so good against your lips, sucked into the wetness of your mouth. The tops of her breasts have a small scattering of freckles that you have to dust in turn with adoring kisses. Her hard nipple brushes your cheek and you draw it past your lips as you trace the wand vibrator up and down, from her clit to the entrance of her cunt, back again, never letting it linger.
You switch to her other nipple, leaving her breast damp and reddened from your mouth. Her head tosses back and forth against the pillows as she whines, squirms, moans, says, "Fuck," and, voice breaking a little, "You're still fuckin' teasin' me—please, please, I said it, please—"
The words, her need, are electricity surging straight to your aching clit. Your voice is a rasp to match her own when you lift your head and breathe in her ear, "You sound so good like this, Melissa." She gives a broken whimper. "You're so perfect. I'll give you more. I promise. I'll take care of you. Take your panties off for me, sweetheart."
With a grateful sob she lifts her hips and shoves her underwear down her thighs, no further. You flash on that fantasy you had of her, getting off after a school day, slacks and panties around her knees as she fucked herself. Looks like you were right.
"You might need," she starts to say, but you're already reaching across to pick up the bottle of lube. You click off the vibrator and let her watch you drip the lube over your fingers, slicking them up. She's panting harder and harder just watching you.
With your other hand freed from the vibrator, you can pull the thong all the way off her legs, leaning back on your knees to do it. You push one thigh then the other wide apart. Her pussy is plump and gorgeous, red and swollen, her own wetness gleaming from between her spread labia. You add to it: the softest touch of your fingertips against her sex, trailing up and around the peak of her clit, not touching it directly.
She makes a noise you can barely describe, a groan of misery and arousal and desperation. Sliding your fingers back down toward the heat of her cunt, slipping one slowly inside, watching her as you do it. Her eyelashes flutter, her lips parting. Once you're sure she's wet enough, you add a second finger. The lube and her own gathering wetness makes a slick, dirty sound as you begin to stroke inside her, all delicacy, all torment.
"Oh, fuck," she says, "don't stop, Jesus Christ, please, don't stop, I need it, I, I..." Now she's babbling, the way she's made you do, one hand fisted in the bed covers, the other grabbing your wrist. "I need it so bad, I need you to fuck me, I've been waitin', please..."
"You've been waiting?" It occurs to you that this version of Melissa, already begging, might be willing to tell you some embarrassing truths. "How long?"
"Since we met," she gasps. "Since—oh, fuck..."
Since you met? That was the very first day of shooting—getting all the establishing shots, the very first moments and interviews. She intimidated you—her and Barbara both did—but Barbara, at least, gave a little, showed a bit of herself to the camera. You remember how Melissa was, arms folded over her chest, cool and hostile with Pedro as he tried to coax her out, get her to introduce herself.
Her eyes had moved from him to you, looking past the camera. "You Sicilian?" she'd asked you. She smiled at you that day and it transformed her sullen, cagey face, turned her, however momentarily, sweet. "Italian?" she'd continued, then her eyes darted from you to Pedro, over to the boom mic guy, trying to get a read on all of you. "You from South?" Her smile vanished. Her voice tightened up again: "Okay, you guys workin' with the cops? 'Cause you gotta tell me."
You reward her for the honesty with a press of your palm against her clit. Her hips jerk up. "I remember that day."
Her head drops back again, her eyes squeezing shut. The words leave her in a breathless rush: "You were so cute'n I hated the cameras but whenever you were there I would just—and you were always so, you were gentle, and—I always knew when you were lookin' at me—"
"I was looking at you every chance I got." You watch her face as you begin to ease a third finger inside her. This one has to burn a little; you can feel her body, resistant at first, starting to stretch to take it, and you don't push; you wait to see her eyes open again, their needy, yielding look. She lets go of the covers to grab one leg under her knee and pull it wider apart to help you. You add a little more lube, just in case, not wanting to hurt her.
"I was always looking at you, Melissa." She stares up at you. There's a crease between her brows, her swollen lips parted; she looks stunned, overwhelmed, face pink, as you slide that third finger inside her.
"I was always looking at you," you repeat, and begin to gently fuck her. Her cunt opens for you and desperately clenches against your fingers, grasping and irregular, trying to keep you. "You're so beautiful. I always wanted you. I thought you were the sexiest, meanest—" that surprises a panting laugh from her—"woman I'd ever seen. You were so smart, so funny—you protected everyone, and you took care of everybody—" her eyes squeeze shut. "Let me take care of you now."
You reach over and pick up the vibrator. You click it on. Her eyes open again at the sound of its buzz. You press the button again, then a third time, bringing it to its strongest setting. Melissa's eyes are huge. She's panting, staring, knowing what you're about to do, and the look of vulnerability and desire on her face, her smeared lipstick, her messy hair, she's perfect, so perfect, and you need to make her come now.
"I need it," you tell her, holding her gaze. "I need it. Let me feel it, Melissa." You bring the vibrator to her swollen, begging clit.
A moment of nothing but her breath caught in her chest and her wide-eyed gaze on yours. Her pussy clamps down around your fingers and you feel the ripples of her orgasm start before she drops her head back and gives a wounded, animal cry.
You chase the waves of her climax, fucking her through them, coaxing them toward you; you rub the head of the vibrator along her slippery clit. Her head tosses back and forth on the pillow like it's too much, but her hand still grasps your wrist, keeping you right where you are, and her hips are working, riding your fingers.
"I can't," she starts saying when she can heave a breath back into her lungs, "I can't, I can't, oh, please—" you click the vibrator off and throw it aside; it nearly rolls off the mattress. You spread the lips of her pussy wide and you lean down and bite one shaking thigh, then the other, then seal your lips over her swollen, tender clit.
Fuck the vibrator: this is your new favorite toy. You play with it and play with it and Melissa comes again, or keeps coming, you're not sure which. One leg goes over your shoulder and her hips twitch and writhe until you have to hold her down.
"Oh my G—oh my God, oh, baby," then, just chanting over and over again, like you could ever tell her no again, like you can deny her anything in the world: "Please, please, please..."
Anything she wants. The whole fucking world, if it were yours to give. You suck and lick at her cunt as her hands find your hair and yank.
How long can she go for? How many times can you make her come? You want to know. You want to fuck her until she faints. But that's not for tonight—not without planning, not without her consent—so when she starts making airy noises that are weak and almost pained, you ease off, slowing your mouth and fingers, letting her come down.
You rub her hips and thighs and her soft belly, and give light kisses to the mound of her pubis. She stops pulling on your hair, grip going slack at first; then, as she comes back into herself by slow degrees, she scratches her nails gently against your scalp.
Kisses for her stomach, her ribs. "Here, baby," you whisper, and reach under her body; she lifts up so you can unhook her bra, sticky fingers brushing her skin. You ease it off and drop it to wherever her panties went. She's nude under you now, flushed all over, body loose and relaxed against the mattress; you pet every inch of her you can reach.
You cup her cheek. Her head turns into the contact. There's sweat gleaming along her hairline and her upper lip. Her eyes, mascara and liner blurred, open to meet yours; her gaze is bleary at first, then sharpens.
You expect another fuck-you, or a joke, or even a "thanks, I needed that," but what she says is, "Now you sit on my face."
Your mind whites out. It's possible you forget the English language for a second or two. When you're back from wherever your soul departed to, she's pulling on the buttons of your shirt, brow knit and wearing an impatient little scowl, yanking the last ones open. "What?" you say weakly.
"I said," Melissa says, fully herself again, no longer the begging, needy, squirming creature of minutes ago, "now you sit on my face. C'mon. Get this off." She grabs the buckle of your belt and works the tongue out of it with a metallic clink.
"I," you say, "I," and she drags your trousers down your legs. You have to lean back off her to get them and your underwear all the way off. Your shirt still hangs open, showing your bra, your bare stomach. She leans up to kiss your sternum with an open mouth, tongue flickering hot against your skin.
"I told you," she growls against your neck, "to sit on my fuckin' face," and there's no more of anything in your world but her, you scrambling up onto your knees, spread wide, her sliding down the bed to get under your cunt.
You falter for a moment; she grabs your hips and yanks you down. There's no playing, no teasing. She drags the flat of her tongue up the folds of your pussy and takes your clit into her mouth and sucks. Her green eyes are open and staring up at you and you see your own dazed pleasure reflected in them.
It takes about five embarrassing seconds before you come in her mouth. She moans loudly against you and tries to hold you where you are, but your legs are shaking badly; imagine if you broke her nose the first night, God—you lift one knee so you can get off of her and drop onto your back.
She follows you. Clambers on top of you intently but unsteadily, still wobbling from her own orgasms, and kisses sloppily down your stomach to get back to your pussy.
"Melissa—" you're gasping, and she's putting her tongue inside you, angling her head to get it in as far as she can. She licks, sucks, wraps her arms around your hips and holds you against her as you try to buck away. The wet noises of her mouth against your cunt are obscene.
You come again, and maybe one more time, you're not sure; your mind blanks again. When you can think, feel, process again, she's giving little kitten licks to your sensitive sex that send shudders up your whole body.
"Okay," you say. Your throat hurts a little—how much noise were you making? You clear it. "Okay. You win." You tap out on the mattress like a boxer. She's wearing a look of supreme satisfaction as she lets you go, her face covered in slick wetness, her makeup a disaster, her hair a messy tangle. She's so beautiful. Your heart does a now-familiar backflip.
She crawls up your body and flops onto her side next to you, curling onto your chest. There's long minutes of just you two breathing, the sound filling the room, a tingling starting in your pussy that you know is the herald of after-sex soreness, her damp fingertips tracing idly on your skin.
You start to smooth out her hair. It'll take a shower and a comb to really fix—maybe you'll suggest it. You trail your fingers down and follow the freckled curve of her shoulder, the roll of flesh on her side along her ribs, the dip of her waist before it opens onto the perfect field of her hips and ass.
Her eyes flick up to yours. They're softer and happier than you've ever seen them; the look on her face is gentle and content. You bring your questing hand up to cup her cheek. She kisses your thumb.
"I'm hungry again," she declares.
A laugh bursts out of you, full of affection. "What?" she says, clearly about to be offended, but before she can go any further, you pull her fully into your arms, wrap around her and squeeze.
You press your face into her neck and inhale, smelling her sweat and skin and sex. "You're perfect for me," you say into that warm curve, muffled against her skin. "You're just perfect." You peck a kiss onto her jaw and lean back to touch her cheek again. "Should we make something? Do you want pasta?"
She grins at you. It's that big, Cheshire smile you saw on her face a few days ago, telling Barbara about how she shot her shot, full of preening satisfaction. She leans in and brushes your nose with hers.
"I knew I picked right," she says, simply, happily. She laces her fingers with yours. "Come on, I got a robe you could wear. You like carbonara?"
She leads you off the rumpled bed. You can see you've left a blurry pink bite mark on one cheek of her perfect ass. She brings you a fuzzy shortie robe ("I like your legs, baby, lemme see 'em") and puts on a silk one herself, and takes your hand again as she opens the bedroom door.
You feel good. You're happy. You realize as she brings you to the kitchen, to the very heart of her home, that you're not alone anymore.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Author's Note:
I received the following prompt from an anonymous reader on Tumblr:
"can you write some fluffy smut for Mel x reader where everyone thinks Mel would be in charge in the bedroom because she’s so tough and reader is so shy. but actually reader takes care of Mel."
Back when Season 2 was airing, I saw a few fan posts saying that Lisa Ann had suggested there was a cameraperson on the crew that Melissa thought was cute, which led to the rare scenes where Melissa opens up to the camera. I'm not sure if this is accurate to what she said, but that idea has stuck with me. When I received the above prompt, it went into a blender with that thought, and this is the smoothie that resulted.
I hope I've done justice to this lovely prompt!
#melissa schemmenti x reader#melissa schemmenti x you#melissa schemmenti#as an FYI: this is my longest fic yet and may be easiest to read on AO3 :)
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Hey you're writing is so beautiful and *cough cough* incredibly hot, would you be down to write a Melissa brat tamer oneshot 😅
No pressure ofc!
-anon
tear you apart (melissa schemmenti x fem!reader)
summary: you're feeling bratty and melissa is all too happy to punish you.
warnings: smut (18+), brat taming, punishment, degradation, spanking, humiliation, overstim, voyeurism? basically unhinged content + agatha harkness obsession disease 💜
notes: thank you anon for your kind words and this request! hope this is worth the wait. melissa is such a brat tamer and i'm reminded of that every time she makes a biting comment or threatens to fight someone. she needs a girl who can take it and then give it right back.
all you ever wanted was to make melissa feel good.
you knew from the start of your relationship that she was a top. but at first, you weren't sure what she liked: did she want you to be her good girl? or did she enjoy a challenge?
within a few weeks, you had pieced together the answer: it depended on the day. on bad days, all she wanted was her sweet, obedient angel.
one night she came home deflated, having fought with barbara over a teacher appreciation gift from the district. she pulled you into her and didn't let go, holding you close through hours of gentle sex. you were so soft, so comforting, so good.
"come sit on my lap, babydoll," she had said, patting her legs where she sat on the sofa. you obliged.
"are you okay?" you asked, searching her eyes for frustration and regret.
"i am now," she whispered as she caressed up your thighs, smiling as you nuzzled into her neck to hide your whimper. "just do what i say 'n make your pretty noises, and i'll be just fine."
good days were a different story. competition and conflict excited melissa. she felt most like herself when she was telling somebody off or winning some game. so, when things were quiet at work or when she was feeling playful, you were more than happy to give her the challenge she craved. your attitude drove her insane, and putting you in your place was always exhilarating.
tonight was a good night. you could tell from the moment she walked in the door, carrying that massive read-a-thon belt. she was on top of the world after her victory, and now she needed another conquest.
you twirled around the kitchen as you cooked dinner in your thin sleep shirt and little shorts. melissa loved seeing you like this: comfy, happy, and best of all, lightly clothed.
you smirked to yourself as you hatched a plan. instead of greeting her like usual, you pretended not to see her come in. then you held up your phone and took a selfie that just happened to provide a view down your shirt. melissa saw it all.
"whatcha doin', hon?" melissa raised an eyebrow at you, still smiling from a great day at work.
"oh, nothing. just texting ava," you replied coyly. melissa's jaw clenched ever so subtly.
you had been friends with ava since back when you were still working at abbott. melissa wasn't jealous of your friendship with ava. no, what irritated her was how shamelessly ava would check you out and hit on you. ava's advances were never serious, she knew that. but melissa also knew that ava hit on you at least as much as she did gregory, and that was a problem in her book.
you smiled at her and went back to your cooking like it was nothing. you were in for a fight tonight.
...
when you sat down in the living room to binge-watch wandavision after dinner, melissa attempted to stroke up your thighs several times. you refused her and innocently cuddled into her side.
all was going according to plan until you heard agatha say "good girl" on the television. you shuddered and pressed your legs together, and it did not go unnoticed by melissa.
"aw, hon. does that make you feel needy?"
she had the upper hand. but you could still salvage this.
"yes, agatha drives me crazy," you said, meeting her gaze and giving her a sultry smug look.
"i thought you liked wanda..." she grumbled, her jaw clenched. it was working.
"mmm no, agatha is more my type," you drawled. you remembered melissa dressed as the scarlet witch. that sinfully sexy costume. she had done it for you.
the fact that you were switching up on her now made her livid. your type? she wasn't your type?
"god, kathryn hahn..." you whispered when the camera focused in on agatha's magical fingers, absolutely selling that you were turned on. it pushed melissa over the edge.
in one swift move, she shut the tv off and crawled on top of you, pushing you into the couch by your sternum. the look in her eyes was dark, fiery, dangerous.
"take your clothes off," melissa growled, fire bubbling behind her eyes.
she pulled herself off of you and sat looking you over from the other end of the couch, an expectant look on her face.
"yes, ma'am," you scrambled to comply with her instructions, stripping eagerly in front of her.
"leave the panties on," melissa stopped you before you could drag your thong down your legs. "on the bed."
the two of you rushed up the stairs and over to the bedroom, her grabbing at your waist the entire time. melissa sat back against the pillows, her legs spread for you. she gestured between her legs and you knew what she wanted.
you squealed and quickly adjusted yourself to straddle her, your legs on either side of hers as you unbuttoned her shirt. she sat upright against the pillows, her messy hair framing her heated face.
once you had removed her shirt and bra, she fisted her hands in your hair and pushed your head downward. you quietly whimpered at the manhandling. she took the initiative to swiftly pull her pants and panties down to her ankles, giving you just one firm command: "be a good girl."
you parted her legs gently and dove in, licking wide stripes up her folds but avoiding her clit to tease her. it wasn't long before you felt a fist in your hair, pulling you off of her to meet her frustrated gaze.
"unless you want red handprints all over your ass, don't fuckin' tease," she sneered.
you were torn: you wanted that punishment, but you also wanted to be a good girl for her. you chose to be good for now, attaching your lips to her clit and making her groan in satisfaction. you could always push her buttons later.
"that's it, honey, right there," she choked out as you swirled your tongue around her clit. she wouldn't last long, already worked up from seeing you strip for her.
you lapped at her and sucked on her bundle of nerves, enjoying the chorus of good girl and don't stop until you felt her legs start to tremble around you. at that point, you pulled back, leaving her bucking up into nothing.
you gave her a mischievous grin and started to trace your lips with your thumb absentmindedly. you watched her seethe in anger, never taking her eyes off of you.
"oh, sorry, i think i smudged my lipstick. give me a second," you could hardly contain your giddiness at how angry she looked. you needed her to lose control.
without missing a beat, she grabbed your hair and forcefully pushed you back between her legs. all of her gentleness was gone.
"such a dumb fucking slut. can't even follow simple instructions," she scolded. "finish me off, whore, and then we'll work on your behavior."
you felt yourself get soaked again at the manhandling, her seething words and her promise to punish you. eager to make up for your misbehavior, you ate her out with reckless abandon. she reached her high within minutes, whispering filthy things to you the whole time.
"fuck, that's good. lookin' up at me like that with your big doe eyes. i'm gonna come all over that pretty, smart mouth."
she came with a low groan, coating your lips in her wetness. the sight was pornographic: you looked at her with hooded eyes and wet lips, slightly fearful of her next move. it was exhilarating.
when she had recovered, she sat up and stared you down, a twisted smirk on her face. you swore you knew what she would say before the words left her mouth.
"bend over my lap, beautiful." her tone was dark, but you could hear the excitement behind her words.
you scrambled to obey, laying face-down on her lap with your ass up, wiggling gently in front of her. enticing her.
for a minute, there was silence. she just watched in amusement as you squirmed in her lap, desperate for any kind of attention from her. from where she sat, she could see your arousal glistening on your thighs. she was drunk on the power.
"a little desperate, hmmm?" she teased. you nodded frantically. she started to trace light patterns on your ass with her fingernail. "let me tell you what's gonna happen now. i'm gonna spank your cute little ass until you're crying and begging me to stop. then, i'm gonna fuck you until you're so sensitive that you can't stand to be touched any more. sound good?"
while she was nonchalant, you were almost at your breaking point from her words alone. you were completely at her mercy. you managed a "yes" and nodded intently for her to continue with her plan, desperate to see it through to the end.
it was hardly a second later when she slapped your ass, hard. you should have seen it coming, but you still yelped in surprise. you felt throbbing between your legs as the pain spread through you.
this went on for a while, and eventually you lost count of how many times she'd hit your backside. tears rolled down your cheeks, and you hardly felt them. and you were soaking her lap with your arousal. melissa whispered filthy things to you the entire time.
"my pretty, little, brat," she emphasized each word with a harder slap.
when it finally stopped, she started to caress you all over and praise you for taking your punishment so well. her soft touch brought you back to reality, and she guided you to sit up.
"wow, sweetheart. you really made a mess," melissa said, gesturing to her legs which were sticky with your wetness. you hid your face in your hands.
"stop it, you know i wanna see you. in fact..." she trailed off with a smirk and reached to grab her phone off the nightstand. "touch yourself."
your mouth fell open at the command, and she gave you a challenging look. not wanting to push her any farther tonight, you did as she asked and tried to find a comfortable position.
"spread 'em wide, princess," she said, smiling down at her phone like she wasn't watching your every move.
a burning heat ran through you at her words. you leaned back and started to gently circle your clit through your panties, anxiously awaiting her next move. you were a whimpering, blushing mess when she finally looked up at you with a grin.
"stay just like that," she said while bringing her phone up to point it at you. you heard the clicking noise of the iphone camera and your eyes widened. melissa had never done anything like this before.
"w-what are you doing?" you barely managed the sentence as your fingers worked you up, making you gasp.
"oh, just givin' myself a little treat for later," she replied coyly. "and maybe next time you act up, i'll show ya these. make ya remember your place."
you shifted uncomfortably, feeling hot all over from your fingers and the humiliation. melissa noticed and put her phone aside to look in your eyes.
"color?" she whispered.
"pink..." you replied shyly. that meant she could keep going. she smiled and cupped your face in her hands, kissing you softly.
her hand traveled down to remove yours from between your legs. she finally laid you down on the bed, running her hands up your thighs. your legs fell open for her and she leaned in to inspect your swollen folds.
she hummed as she trailed two fingers through your wetness, earning her a pitiful noise. when she pulled away and mosied over to the dresser drawer, you knew what she was going to do.
"i think you're wet enough for the strap, don't you?" she pulled out a bright red one that you had never seen before. she watched your eyes as you reacted to its size.
"i bought this as a surprise for you knowin' you'd go crazy over it," she mused as she adjusted the harness and attached the dildo to it.
"mel, it's... big," you said, looking up at her with wide eyes as she positioned herself above you.
"yeah, hon, that's why i bought it," she teased, smirking as if it was the most obvious reply in the world. you breathed a sigh of relief as she covered the strap in a thick layer of lube.
she took the cock in one hand and maneuvered it through your folds, pressing on your clit and making you cry out. you shuddered when she positioned it at your entrance.
"you ready for me?" melissa trailed a finger under your chin and forced you to meet her eyes.
"pink," you breathed, and she pushed the tip in. you felt the stretch immediately, and melissa used her free hand to rub your abdomen soothingly.
she continued to work her way into you, her hand never stopping its comforting motions. when she bottomed out, you felt so full you could hardly breathe. it was a thrill.
you nodded at her to signal she could move, and she started to fuck you slow and hard. the size of the strap-on allowed her to hit places that you'd never felt before, and you couldn't hold back your moans.
her thrusts became rougher very quickly, and she dug her thumbs into your hips to balance herself. you knew there would be marks there tomorrow. her pace and the low groans she let out suggested that she was still hanging on to some frustration in need of release.
she hit your g-spot and you screamed, overwhelmed with the feeling of her. she noticed the telltale signs of your orgasm approaching: shaking legs, parted lips, strangled moans. in response, melissa reached down to rub your bundle of nerves roughly, and that sent you over the edge.
"good girl, so good," she coaxed you through your high. you thought she would stop after one. oh how naive you were. you were trembling and squirming away from her, and she just continued to rub your clit, rocking gently inside you.
"come on, honey, give me another, i know you can," she encouraged you, peppering you with sweet kisses. you nodded and she started to fuck you again in earnest.
every nerve ending in your body was buzzing, and all you could feel was melissa. she thrusted into you like her life depended on it, and you admired her face as she worked you. her red hair hung around her face, which had also become red from the exertion. it felt amazing—hell, it felt insane—to feel her hitting all the most sensitive spots inside you. but it felt even more amazing to have the sexiest woman on the planet on top of you, working your body like it was her life's mission.
when your second orgasm washed over you, it was more intense than the first. it drained all the power from your body and you surrendered yourself to your fiery lover. she again whispered sweet nothings in your ear to help you along. when you had stopped shuddering, she pulled out.
you caught your breath and watched her rise to her feet, humming as she took off the strap. you could see a devious glint in her expression that told you you weren't done quite yet.
after that small taste of relief, melissa stalked over to you and spread your legs once more. you whined in discomfort, too sensitive to take any more.
"shhhh, baby, lemme clean you," she soothed before beginning to lap at you, savoring your taste. she tried to avoid your clit but her nose brushed against it, bringing a pained noise from you. she hummed into you and kept going, stroking your legs to relax you.
after you had gotten comfortable with the feeling of her tongue she drifted up to your clit, circling it but avoiding direct contact. you gasped and bucked up into her mouth despite your best efforts. even the smallest touch felt like an electric shock.
when your whines turned to quiet moans, melissa wrapped her mouth around your clit and started to suck, rolling her tongue over it. the pressure was white-hot and deadly, and it sent you over the edge in seconds.
"my sweet angel, i love you, you did so well for me..." she comforted you through the comedown. she stroked your sides and you relaxed into her touch, your heartbeat finally slowing. she placed a fond kiss on your forehead, then got up to get a washcloth and some water for you.
...
"i won the read-a-thon today..." she said while she cleaned you.
"i noticed," you giggled, smiling up at her. the love in her eyes made the green irises sparkle and swim with possibility. "i'm so proud of you."
"you coulda said that earlier!" she joked, recalling your misbehavior. there was a comfortable silence before she spoke again. "actually, i think i like it when you fight me a little."
you gazed at her fondly and laughed again, feeling warm and cared for. "i noticed."
#melissa schemmenti x reader#melissa schemmenti#melissa schemmenti/reader#melissa schemmenti x y/n#melissa schemmenti x you#abbott elementary fanfic#wlw fanfic#smut#melissa schemmenti smut
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“Don’t call me kid… but please call me baby”
Summary: You and Melissa meet during one of your routine visits to Abbott, she is weary about you at first but you quickly become closer. Thoughts of each other clouds both of your minds.
Word Count: 6.8k
Warnings: Drinking, drug use, jealousy, smut, inexperienced Mel.
Note: I wrote this one one yesterday while relaxing during the holiday (aka not sober). I made it longer because i was feeling extra nice. It is not proofread at all, please keep that in mind.
Melissa and you met each other about a year ago when you came visit Abbott as part of an inspection being conducted by the district. At first she wasn’t very fond of you, she saw you as one of those sell out that only care about their pockets and not about the well being of the students or about providing them with tools to improve their learning process. After a few arguments, she finally figured out that you weren’t just some shallow young thing as she was expecting, she also started noticing how much you care about doing what is best for the school system, but also took notice of how beautiful you were, and most importantly, how you truly had a heart of gold.
You also became fond of the woman, fonder than you would expected or wanted. After that first visit when you met the beautiful redhead, you continued to come back to the elementary school every month. Always with the excuse that you wanted to keep track of how things were going and if either of the teachers or the students were in need of any type of assistance. There was some truth to it, though, you genuinely believed that these children and the people guiding them through life needed the support of someone who truly cared. But if you were honest with yourself, a big part of why you came in yourself instead of sending someone else was Melissa. You hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her since that first day you met her and she wouldn’t give you the time of day, going off about how she doesn’t talk to your kind of people and how much she hated that you were sticking your nose in her business. You were not able to forget the passion in which she spoke about her children, like a momma lion taking care of her cubs. You liked seeing the fire in her eyes and the tough exterior that for sure had to cover the softest heart. Her figure didn’t go unnoticed by you either. Her perfect curves, her cleavage, her shiny voluminous red hair, her long nails and her plump lips. You couldn’t forget the bright smile you saw on her face as you secretly watched her interact with her students. So you kept coming back. Every month you felt Melissa warming up to you more and more. The first few months she would try and ignore or make snarky comments at your expense. Then she started making conversation with you, looking for you the days you were at Abbott, inviting you to eat at the teachers lounge, showing you the small upgrades she made in her classroom. You always humored her and she enjoyed that.
Soon enough she started opening up to you, asking you to hang out outside of a professional setting, which according to everyone that knew her was very uncharacteristic of her. This only made you feel more special.
You remember the first time she invited you to hang out outside of work. You had come to Abbott for your monthly meeting and she saw you eating take out from some wanna be italian restaurant and this really upset her. You thought it was cute. “Toss that trash y/n” she said making a disgusted face as she sat across from you in the lounge. “Since I don’t completely hate you anymore, how about you come Saturday for lunch? Eat some authentic italian food, not that olive garden like crap” - she said trying to come off non-chalant but you could see the smile creeping up her face.
So you went that Saturday, and many weekends after that. Soon you became Melissa’s friend, the person she called to run errands, the person she would save leftovers for, the person she’d call after a shitty day to talk to over a bottle of wine and some pistachio gelato. Melissa became the center of your life, and if you were being honest, you were also pretty special to her. Now you even got to come along to game night with the Abbott family, you were ‘’Melissa’s girl” and everyone welcomed you with open arms. You successfully managed to keep the work talk separated from socializing with them, and it worked quite nicely. You loved them and you love seeing how Melissa was around them. You loved to observe her in her essence.
You loved it, it made you feel special. The only downside was that your feelings for her continued to grow. It started going beyond surface level, beyond her being beautiful and passionate. You started noticing the small things about her, even her flaws and you cherished every single one of them. She was with Gary now, though, so you kept quiet and kept coming around. You wouldn’t jeopardize the chance to be around her over some stupid feelings over a woman that wasn’t even gay, a woman that had a boyfriend, even if he didn’t deserve her. He didn’t get her like you did. You felt like some cliché, the lesbian version of “you belong with me” by Taylor Swift. But it was true, she was a goddess and he was just an idiot. He didn’t care to know her, to know what made her the happiest or what upset her the most, he didn’t care to learn about her scars and how was her childhood. To him, she was just some hot woman he somewhat managed to get thanks to some kind of cosmic miracle. You wondered what she got out of it, you often wondered if maybe they had a wild sex life that made up for his lack of substance. The thought of it always made you sad and often led you to some nights of drinking and getting high just to forget her. Forget she wasn’t yours. Forget someone else was touching her.
You entertained her talks about him, but if you were being honest, she didn’t talk about him all that much, which you were thankful for. You wondered if she knew you had feelings for her and thats why she chose to keep quiet about him. But regardless she never pushed you away, so you continue to enjoy your time with her. She continued to be attentive with you, she continued to cook for you and help you out in everything you needed. She was even physically affectionate with you, which was always surprising to you but you chose to not question it.
However, people around you were definitely raising some eyebrows.
It was game night with the Abbott Crew and you were quite invested in a board game of Snakes and Stairs with Jacob, Gregory and Barbara while Melissa was preparing some food. She approached the table with a plate full of pigs in a blanket Janine had brought. Everyone grabbed some and continued to play, but you were so invested you ignored the food, mainly because you hated to get your fingers greasy when you were doing something else. Melissa knew this, so she sat next to you and fed them to you while you continued playing. Whoever saw you would have thought you were a married couple. She was sat in the arm of your chair, closely watching as you took a bite of each piece, humming satisfied.
Barbara tried to not react, just widening her eyes at the sight, while Ava said what everyone was thinking “So does Gary know you got a little girlfriend Schemmenti?
“AVA!” - Janine says and quickly tries to defend your honor for some reason.
“What? I am sure he’d like it, damn I AM TURNED ON” - she let out a laugh loud and left the room to get a drink.
“We are just friends, you all are just jealous Melissa likes me the best” - you said shooting a redhead a smile
“Yeah, y’all need to mind ya business and stop being weird” - she abruptly left the room and everyone understood that they had hit a nerve.
Her reaction left you confused, why did she take it like that? Sure, her friend’s joke was of bad taste but it is Ava, and Ava is always saying things that are inappropriate. Was there some truth to it? Did she like you in any way? After a few minutes you excused yourself and went to find her in the kitchen, she was standing by the sink furiously washing some dishes while quickly downing a glass of Merlot.
“Damn Schemmenti, am i that bad?” - you said jokingly and your voice startles her, you can tell she must have been deep in thought.
She turns around and gives you a soft smile, but the anger quickly comes back to her face “I am just not a cheater! and you are my friend and why would they make it weird?”
“You are not a cheater, Mel, and we sure are friends, I mean who could think I would be able to get such a smokeshow?” - you joke and she leaves out a chuckle. The you walk slowly closer to her and pull her into a hug, she is so tense at first but she relaxes into your embrace.
“You could get anyone, and that person would be lucky to have you” - she says and you freeze, a deep heavy feeling settling in your chest, you don’t know what to say since you clearly cant confess that the person you want is her. You know that tonight you will probably will cry yourself to sleep.
“Thanks, Schemmenti, I better get back to the game, Jacob can’t beat me this time”
“Get them, kid”
“Don’t call me kid” - you respond in your head.
That night you go back home and down a bottle of Carbernet, while shouting the lyrics of “Illicit Affairs”
You weren’t necessarily a swifty, but damn, the woman sure did know how to portrait heartbreak.
You take a big gulp and in tears keep screaming.
Don't call me "kid"
Don't call me "baby"
Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me
You showed me colors
You know I can't see with anyone else
Don't call me "kid"
Don't call me "baby"
Look at this idiotic fool that you made me
You taught me a secret language
I can't speak with anyone else
You felt as if you were choking on your pain, so pathetic. You felt so small, like why would she ever see you like that? You were friends. Maybe she just saw you as someone younger that needed to be taken care of. But that wouldn’t make sense, you were practically her boss, you had a career and were doing good for yourself, you didnt need her to take care of you. You just needed her. You lay down in your bed and try to go to sleep. Your fuzzy thoughts are filled with her, her scent, the warmth of her skin, her beautiful smile. The thought of how her lips might feel cross your head, getting you all choked up, you just cry yourself to sleep.
The next morning you wake up and your first thought it is her, as per usual but you try to brush it off, you spend all morning in meetings, trying your best to fight your urge to text her. Finally you give in and send her a quick message wishing her to have a good day! It was very gay of you, but you did this most morning and she always enthusiastically replied. This time you got nothing back, you tried your best to not overthink it but something was definitely off.
You resisted the urge to double text her, that is until friday night. It had been three days since she last had any type of contact with you, which had never happened during the time you had been friends. You decide to continue to leave her alone but you definitely need some distraction to not go absolutely crazy thinking about her. You go out to a club in hopes to find a girl that will make you forget about Melissa, at least for one night, someone you could release all your sexual frustration with. And you are successful at it, you meet some girl and you hook up with her in the bathroom of the club, something you are not proud of at this point in your life, but love is making you lose your mind. You don’t continue to hang out around your hook up, instead you return to the restroom to wash your face and the shame of what you had just done. Not that you were against one night stands, just that you knew you weren’t doing it for the right reasons. At this point you are drunk and so high and your cognitive faculties are just not all there. You notice the girl let some hickies on your neck and a childish idea pops into your head. You snap a selfie and upload it to your insta story, you barely had any people there but you definitely had Melissa. She never posted but she loved snooping around and watching cooking reels, you knew she’d see it. You wanted her to see that you were wanted, even if it wasn’t by her.
The next morning you woke up massively hungover and instantly regretting the poor decisions you had made the previous night. You are sat in your bed when you notice you have a bunch of notifications.
“Girl didn’t know you were freaky like that” - Ava replied to your story
“Y/n did you mean to post this?” - your best friend said
and there it was, Melissa Schemmenti had seen it and stayed silent, a rush of nervousness took over your body, why did you care? she had Gary!! She was your friend!
“Ugh” you say to yourself as you lay back down in bed, picking up your phone to delete the selfie, you looked hot but honestly is not something you wanted on the internet.
Suddenly your phone buzzes again, its a text from Jacob.
“Hey y/n, are we still gonna see you at kareoke tonight?”
SHIT SHIT SHIT, you had completely forgotten you had agreed to go out to a kareoke night with the Abbott crew. The desire to cancel creeps up in your body, but you know you shouldn’t, you haven’t talked to Melissa in 4 days and this might be a good time to see what is going on with her. You leave out a sigh and send a message.
“Yes, can’t wait”
———————————————————————————-
By the time you make it to the Karaoke Bar everyone is already there. You walk in and everyone greets you with the usual enthusiasm, everyone except Melisda who gives you a dry “Hi” and tenses under your body as you give her a quick hug. This makes your stomach drop and you quickly step away from her.
The rest of the night was awkward, you sat in a table next to Janine and endured Ava’s neverending jokes about your hickies and how hot you looked on your story last night. You were tipsy at this point but didn’t want to drink to the point that you would make a fool of yourself. Melissa ignored you the whole time, only shooting some glances at you, she seemed so upset and you couldn’t understand why. Why was she acting that way? She made it clear it was awkward that her coworkers even mentioned that you two were together. So why would she be upset you slept with someone else. You were FRIENDS. Maybe she wasn’t mad at you. Maybe it was about her, maybe it wasn’t personal. You decided to try and relax.
You watched Janine perform every Katy Perry song under the sun, while Gregory refused to pick up a microphone. Barbara sang Careless Whisper and her voice was delightful. Of course Ava went up and performed some Beyonce tunes. It was your turn and you didn’t know what to sing.
“Oh I know” - Jacob said as he shot you a smile “I know you listen to girl in red, he says before he winked at you and handed you the microphone”.
And there you were, all eyes on you, singing “I wanna be your girlfriend”, this seemed like a cosmic joke and it was happening and the worst timing possible. You had tried to resist but there was no use. The entire room was looking at you but somehow you only felt Melissa’s eyes burning through your body.
You went on.
I don't wanna be your friend, I wanna kiss your lips (ooh-ooh-ooh)
I wanna kiss you until I lose my breath (ooh-ooh-ooh)
I don't wanna be your friend, I wanna kiss your lips (ooh-ooh-ooh)
I wanna kiss you until I lose my breath
You were about to sing the chorus again when you saw Melissa furiously grab her bag and run out of the establishment. Everyone looking shocked, including yourself. You stood there, frozen.
“Bestie if you don’t go get your girl” - Ava shouted
“Told you I shouldn’t have made her sing that song, Ava” - Jacob protested
“Boy these two needed some help” - Ava tells him
You weren’t sure this had been any help but you followed Melissa regardless. Or why they would say that. Melissa was with someone and she wasn’t gay. You walk out of the bar and there she was sitting in her car. You could see her through the windshield, biting her nails, looking rather anxious.
You stood by the opposite window, and pleaded her to open the car.
“Go away, Y/N” - she said in annoyance
“Mel, open up”
“For what? Don’t you have to go find another girl to sleep with?”
“i dont, and if i did so what? What is it to you?”
She mumbled something to herself you couldn’t quite hear.
You sighed “Are you going to let me in?”
“What is your problem with me? Why did you go no contact? Why are you ignoring me? Why are you so mad I slept with someone? I thought we were better friends.”
She stayed silent, looking down at her hands, she looked unsure, you had never seen Melissa look unsure of herself.
“Are you going to look at me and tell me what the hell is going on because I am losing my mind here, Mel. You know how much I care about you and this is so unfair. I want my friend back.” - you said, tears forming in your eyes.
“I don’t wanna be your friend” - she said, still not looking at your face.
“What, why? Are you overthinking things? Is it Gary? Is it because people think we are together? Does that make you uncomfortable? Please Melissa tell me because I don’t want to lose my friend”
“Fuck y/n you won’t lose your friend because I don’t want to be your friend, I want to be whatever that song said, I like you okay. And no, Gary is not jealous or if he is I don’t know because I broke it off with him”
You sat there, frozen, a million thoughts going through your brain and not knowing what to respond.
She met your gaze for a second before returning it back to her hands. “And I stopped replying because i felt pathetic, like I have all these feelings for you when I am so much older and I just didn’t know what to do, the fact that people started to notice made me think I should go for it, so i broke up with Gary and I needed some distance before I talked to you and then I saw you went and fucked someone else and of course you did! You are young and hot! And it all brought back my insecurities. Like you don’t want me and that is fine but it just hurt.”
You grabbed both of her hands, grinning like an idiot, she finally looked at you.
“What is so funny to you? God, I am pathetic”
“Melissa Ann Caterina Schemmenti, you are the least pathetic person I have ever met, and nothing is funny, I am just, I dont know, happy? excited?”
“What do you mean?” - she furrowed her eyebrows and then her face relaxed, a hint of hope forming in her eyes.
“I like you, a lot, since we first met and you used to fight me, I loved your fire and your passion. And then you let me in and i learned to love your softness and your kindness and God, do i love your body. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met. You make me feel like no one else ever has. I have broken my heart over and over again just to be by your side Mel. Just being your friend was enough for me, if it meant i could be close to you. I never thought you would like me, but i wanted to be with you, however that looked.” - you said, staring into her eyes, which were glassy from the tears that were begging to stream down her cheeks.
“Can I kiss you” - you said, both of your hands already cupping her face, she nodded and you placed your lips on hers. It was soft, it was intimate, it conveyed every feeling you had for each other, it was long and slow and you felt like you were in heaven. She tasted like the most delicious dessert and felt better than you ever hoped.
After a few minutes, you both pulled away, both smiling trying to dissipate the tension.
“So you always liked me? Why did you never say anything y/n?”
“Well Mel, I wasn’t the straight one with a boyfriend, I never thought I had a chance and I didn’t want to ruin things, you are far too special to me”.
Her eyes softened and she leaned in to give you another kiss. Once again you went to heaven. You finally had this woman in your arms and you couldn’t believe it.
“So you want to do this?” - she asked you in a low tone, one that wasn’t very Schemmenti of hers.
“Mmm let me think”
“Idiot” - she let our a chucke as she pull you in for another kiss, as it turns out she couldn’t get enough of those.
“Of course I do, Mel, it would be my pleasure”
“Alright babe, lets do this”
“Oh i am already getting pet names” you grinned like an idiot, and you were one, an idiot in love whose prayers had just been answered.
“You are so beautiful” - you tell her, now in a serious tone, your hand playing with her fingers as you looked into her eyes. “You are like a dream to me, and i hope that you can see that, i have spent so many months wondering what it would be like to kiss you, and this feels surreal and I just want you to know that I want to make you happy, I don’t want to fail at this. So please, I just ask you to be open and honest with me, so please no more icing me out, okay? Whatever you need, I will give it to you but I need you to communicate with me.”
“I promise I’ll try, hon. I want this so badly, it scares the fuck out of me, but I don’t want to lose you.”
You spend a while just sitting in her car, listening to one of the many playlists you had made her and never sent to her. Holding each other and talking about all the instances in which you had wished you could be with each other. Talking about everything you could do now that you were seeing each other. Somehow it felt perfect, it was just you and your Melissa, like you always had been. This time you just didn’t have to hold back on your feelings. You could kiss her and touch her all you wanted. You could sing all the songs you have wanted to dedicate to her since you met her. She liked you, just like you liked her and it was your reality.
After a while you both parted ways, deciding to keep it a secret for a while since Melissa’s break up with Gary was so recent. You also wanted some time to keep this for yourselves. To have a space for each other that was sacred and untouchable by anyone.
—————————————————————————————-
The next few weeks were magical, you woke up every morning excited about life, planning what you were going to do to make your girlfriend feel special. You loved sending her sweet good morning texts, buying her flowers and picking her up after school to take her wherever she wanted to go.
It had been four weeks since you had started dating and everything felt perfect, just like before, now just there wasn’t any Gary and you were able to show your feelings for her, but you realized you never had an actual date, you had never officially asked her to be your girlfriend. Hell, you hadn’t even had sex yet, which if you were being honest, was quite difficult for you, but Melissa always seemed hesitant, you didn’t know why, but you respected her and wanted to do things on her terms. You decide that is time you ask her to be your girlfriend and start planning out the perfect date.
You do your research and set your mind on Fork, a beautiful restaurant in Philly that was known for their exquisite dishes and romantic ambiance. It was quite pricey but Melissa deserved the world, and that is exactly what you wanted to give her. You made a reservation for that weekend. Then proceed to order the biggest bouquet of flowers you could find. You send her the most gorgeous deep red roses, along with a note.
"My amore, it's time for a proper date. Let me pick you up at 7 this Saturday, and make sure to wear something fancy. - Love, y/n”
You wish you could be there when she received them, but keeping this air of mystery makes it all more fun.
The roses are set to be delivered on Thursday at 7pm and at 7:30 you get a message from Melissa.
Mel:
“Baby, these flowers are beautiful, you are the sweetest girl. I’ll make sure to wear something as pretty for you this Saturday.”
You:
“The best for my gorgeus lady. Even though no flower can match your beauty.”
Mel:
“You sure know how to talk to a woman huh. Can’t wait to see you, hon.”
Saturday rolls around and you spend all afternoon trying to practice in your head what you are going to tell her. Fully knowing that you will be a mess and whatever comes out of your mouth is not going to be your rehearsed speech.
Around 6:30 you make your way to Melissa’s house. Your palms were sweaty but you felt quite excited. You pull up and at the door you are received by the most beautiful view your eyes had ever seen. Melissa was wearing a beautiful black dress with a sinful neckline that left little to the imagination. It fit her like it was made only for her, perfect for her body.
“Wow, Mel. You look like a vision, are you real? You are beautiful, my love.” - you say as you hold both her hands and your eyes travel up and down her body appreciating her beauty.
“You look hot, babe. Lets go, gotta show you off to people”
You both get in your car and drive to the restaurant. Tou had requested an intimate table as you had informed the restaurant that this would be a celebratory night.
“Wow, y/n, this is insane. You didn’t have to” - she says as she looks around the restaurant, looking at the beautiful decoration, the big chandeliers, the soft jazz coming through the speakers.
“Anything for my lady” - you say as you press a kiss to her lips and guide her to your table.
“You really are a romantic huh, can’t believe I didn’t fess up sooner”
“Well you were wasting your time with Mr. Dave & Busters” - you teaser her
She lets out a loud laugh and you feel so proud of yourself. Nothing makes you happier than to make Melissa laugh but you had also been dying to make a dig at Gary.
“Can I say again how absolutely stunning you look tonight, Mel?
“Please go on” - she says as she rests her head on her hands and attentively looks at you… her emerald green eyes looking deeply into your soul and making the butterflies on your stomach start fluttering.
“Well, you are, you are the most breathtaking woman I have ever seen”
“Funny you say that, because I think that is you”
“Thank you but thats just impossible” - you respond
She smiles and continues to look at the menu. The night is perfect, you drink some glasses of wine and eat the most delicious food. Melissa had ordered the ribeye and you decided to give the monkfish a try. You both share your dishes, feeding each other, sharing lustful and loving glances. Your heart feels full and you can tell hers do to. You realize your nearly at the end of the meal and you have to finally ask her if she wants to be your girlfriend. You order the chocolate mousse, which you had previously requested to come with “Will you be my girlfriend?” written on the plate. Once the waiter leaves you look back into her eyes and reach for her hand, before you commence your speech. Melissa gives you a puzzling look before she relaxes her hand into yours.
“Melissa, ever since I met you you have brought an immense amount of happiness into my life.” - you start and Melissa looks at you like you had hung the moon for her.
You continue “You are the most passionate, funny and hard headed person i know, which is what makes me live you even more. You make every day an adventure, just sitting next to you listening to you talking about the Eagles makes my day and I don’t even know anything about football. You are tough and you are soft and so incredibly caring. The way you care about your kids makes my heart so soft. You are also so funny and such a good time, you make me feel alive and like this silly life is worth living. You make me feel understood and listened to and you care so much about me. You are just incredible. You are everything I have ever wanted and hoped for. Plus, you make a mean lasagna.” - you are now nearly in tears as you see the waiter comer over and place the plate in front of her and quickly walk away.
“So with all that.” - you signal to the plate and she reads it, an excited expression forming in her face as she reads the question.
“Melissa Ann Caterina Schemmenti, will you be my girlfriend” - you ask her as you are now sat by her side, she quickly nods her head
“Yes y/n, yes, god you are the sweetest girl” - she says as she presses you into a kiss and hugs you tightly.
You both proceed to dig into the dessert and feed each other spoonfuls. “This dessert is almost as sweet as you, my girlfriend” - she says as she plants a kiss on your forehead.
You both leave the restaurant happier than you were when you came in, even if that was even possible. You walk a little around the city, hand in hand, taking in the view as Melissa tells you stories of things she used to do in this part of town when she was younger. You loved listening to her telling you her mysterious tales.
After a while you decided to come back to your apartment and have some drinks. Melissa can’t keep her hands off you the whole drive home and you wonder if tonight is finally going to be the night when you’ll get to show her just how much you love her. You try to not get your hopes up, as it is completely fine if she doesn’t want to, just her presence is enough to have you intoxicated.
You both arrive to your place and you pull out a bottle of Merlot. You hand a glass to Melissa and guide her to your couch. You both sit and you just watch as her lips get stained by the red liquid. You can’t help but wonder how they taste now and quickly press your lips on hers.
She moves closer to you and now your bodies pressed against each other as you kiss and caress each other softly. Your lips come together, pressing together gently and tenderly as you both move slowly and intimately. Your kisses were sweet and loving, full of affection and passion. Your hands gently explored each other's bodies, feeling each other’s skin. The kisses become more heated and your hand starts to travel up her thigh. You can feel her pulling away from you and you look at her with concern. Melissa seems embarrassed, a look of doubt and shame in her face.
“Baby what is it?” Did i do something wrong?” - You ask her, searching for an answer in her face. She has a puzzling look you cant quite decipher.
“I.. I just..” - frustration building up in her body, Melissa struggles being vulnerable, she is used to being sure of herself and the fact that she can’t effectively say what she is feeling without feeling ashamed makes her upset.
“Mel, please tell me” - you say as you squeeze her hand, trying to make her feel like it is okay to be honest with you.
“I just.. you are a girl”
“Wouldn’t have guessed by my huge tits” - you say jokingly trying to make her feel more comfortable.
“I just have never been with one” - she admits shyly
“Never?” - you say, wanting her to go on talking about her feelings.
You move closer to her, holding one of her hands and caressing her arm with the other. She sighs and goes on to tell you about her experience.
“I made out with girls in college, but nothing more. I just didn’t want to deal with it, i shoved all those feelings deep down in my brain, i shut down any thoughts I had about women, I told myself it wasn’t something I needed to act on, that it wasn’t something i needed and then you came around, y/n and i tried, i tried not to like you, i tried finding every excuse under the sun as to why I shouldn’t get closer to you, why i shouldn’t crave you, and then i told you, and im happy I did. You are so beautiful and so kind, and funny and smart and your body drives me absolutely crazy. But now here I am, and I don’t know what to do, and I am so scared i am going to make a fool of myself. God i feel like a teenager again.”
“Mel, baby, it is okay, we don’t have to do anything you aren’t ready for. I promise I don’t mind. I like spending time with you and kissing you and if you don’t want to I’ll wait.” - you reassure her, caressing her cheeks, she closes her eyes against your palm and you softly kiss her lips.
“I am ready, I think, I want to, I just, don’t want to disappoint you”
“Melissa, you could never. You can take me to heaven with a kiss. Do you trust me?”
She nods and looks at you as you stand up and strech your hand for her to grab. She places your hand on yours, you can tell she is hesitant but wants this as badly as you do.
You guide her into your room and sit her down at the edge of your mattress. Her eyes never leaving your body, following every single one of your gestures, wondering what you are going to do next. You kiss her lips, softly at first, then more passionately, she leaves out a low moan, you continue to savor her lips, softly slipping your tongue inside, exploring her mouth, you hear her whimper as she shifts on your bed. You kiss her jaw and continue down to her neck, softly sucking on her pulse point, her hands around your waist. “Tell me to stop if you don’t want to continue okay?” You give her a chaste kiss on the lips. “You better not” She says and now you can see the lust in her eyes, which makes you feel incredibly excited. You continue kissing her upper body, taking in her scent, kissing her all over, enjoying her whimpers and moans
You reach her for her tits and give them a squeeze, this time is you the one that lets out a moan. “Fuck, Mel I have wanted to touch them for so long”. Melissa's breath gets caught in her throat at your admission and her body tingle with excitement as you touch her. The sensation of your hands softly grazing across her breasts sent a flutter in her heart and a shiver of desire through her body. For a moment, she leaned back, enjoying the feeling of your hands on her still fully clothed body. She closed her eyes and let herself soak up the sensations of your touch. Her body trembled with excitement as your fingers lightly traced the shape of her breasts. She let out a soft moan of pleasure and her breath grew heavy with desire. “Can i please take your dress off” She nods and you help her slip out of the garment. Leaving her in her black lacy set. “God you are stunning”. Your hands wander all over her body before you make your way back to her breasts. “Can I see them, please, Mel?” you ask her with pleading eyes, you want her to know how badly you want her, how much you crave her. “Yes, beautiful, God you are so good at this”. Her words of reassurance send tingles throughout your body. You can’t believe you are making this goddess feel good. You shift positions and now you are the one sitting on the bed as you make her straddle your lap. You kiss her passionately as you unhook her bra, revealing her beautiful full breasts, your mouth waters and your core aches, god they are more beautiful than you could have ever imagined. You take one of her erect nipples in your mouth and play with the other one. You can tell Melissa is already comfortable enough with you as she throws her head back and relentlessly grinds her against your thighs as you play with her tits. You savor every moment and you can tell she is having a wonderful time. “Fuck, y/n that feels soooo good, I am so wet baby”. You hummm against her nipples and her body twiches in pleasure. “You are so sexy, Mel”, your hands now guiding her hips against your thighs while your lips focus on her upper body. “Inside, please y/n.. i need you” she breathlessly begs and you obey. You wrap a hand around her waist while the other one travels down to her pussy, your fingers running up and down her folds in a slow motion, feeling her wetness. “God baby, I guess you really like me huh” you say with a smirk. “Yes please, fuck me, please” - Melissa says, her eyes closed as she enjoys the sensations you are causing by playing with her clit. “Your wishes are my command, beautiful” a you say and you quickly insert one of your fingers insider her hole, then another one, god she feels so good. You find the perfect rhythm and her body is melting into yours, your face between her boobs, her perfectly riding your fingers, the room is filled with her moans as well as yours. You insert a third finger insider her and you can feel Melissa cum as she holds onto your shoulders, then falling limp on you. You caress her back as you kiss her head and whisper sweet words in hear ear.
When she comes back to her senses you can see tears forming in her eyes which makes you panic. “Mel, are you okay?”
“Am i okay? I am fucking great” she says laughing through the tears in her eyes. “Nobody has made me feel like this y/n. God I can’t believe I waited so long to let you do this”
“Well, I am available any time you want now, my love.” - You tell her as she pulls you into a deep kiss.
#melissa schemmenti/reader#melissa schemmenti x y/n#melissa schemmenti imagine#melissa schemmenti x reader#melissa schemmenti#abbott elementary#lisa ann walter#melissa schemmenti x you#abbott elementary fanfiction
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Taken For A Ride
Downtown celebrating and socializing with your Abbott friends, Melissa seems to be more affectionate towards you than usual, and enjoying every second of it.
warnings: consumption of alcohol, smut, 18+
A/N: hey pookies long time no see, after taking a long break from writing i finally finished something i enjoyed. i hope u all enjoy reading it as much as i did writing it :)
After the stressful few days that was the smoking fiasco, it was needless to say everyone at Abbott Elementary was relieved when Janine was able to help out the troubled student, even if that meant it included the “no smoking” sign somehow being attached to the brick wall. Mr. Johnson never failed to amaze the rest of the crew.
“You know what would be an ironic way to congratulate Janine and celebrate today working out? Going out for drinks and dancing downtown this Friday,” Jacob pitched to the usual suspects on their way out the door for the afternoon.
“Please, you’ll come up with any reason to get us all out and do something. You’re almost as bad as Janine.” Ava retorted. “But…I do know of some PR event happening that night, I could get us all in after a few shots.”
Unsure of your own decision on Jacob’s idea, you just listened to a few of your friends go back and forth between places to go, before settling on somewhat of a decent plan for the weekend. Looking between faces, a pair of jade eyes met yours. Melissa was already looking at you, realizing that caused a light pink spread across your cheeks. Luckily everyone else was busy caught up in the details of it all. Shifting your eyes away from hers, you walked closer to Ava.
“I’ll be at both this event Ava speaks of and whatever bar you all decide beforehand, but I gotta run. Text me the details?” You asked, picking up your pace once you were met with agreement from everyone.
Truthfully, you didn’t have anywhere special to be, but here in the car was better than being a flustered mess in front of the redhead. Melissa had clearly taken a liking towards you. At first it was innocent, her walls slowly coming down in an effort of friendship. Slowly but surely, her favoritism towards you became more and more clear. She always made sure you were close to her when the two of you were in the same room, she would let her touches linger while she watched your face for any sort of reaction. If you didn’t know any better, you’d assume it wasn’t just curiosity, Melissa liked getting such a reaction from you.
You shook your head to clear your thoughts before beginning the drive home. The evening was filled with mundane tasks, grading, cleaning, planning, nothing too out of the ordinary. The rest of the week was similar, mundane, but easy. That was, until Friday. Shortly after you had gotten home from work and started getting ready to meet everyone out, you got a call from Melissa. “Hey you,” came from your end as soon as you picked up.
“Hey sweetheart, can you do me a favor?” Melissa asked over the speaker. You couldn’t see, but you knew she was twirling the end of her hair and lowering her voice on purpose, she always did when she wanted something.
“What is it now, Schemmenti?” You teased her.
“I need you to get ready as quickly as you can and come to my house.” She answered rather quickly.
“And why is that?”
“Because…I don’t know what to wear,” She admitted.
You couldn’t contain the laugh as soon as you heard her answer. She couldn’t be serious, right? “Mel, why do you need me to come all the way to your house for an opinion on an outfit? Can’t you just tell me what you’re wearing or send me pictures? Or, oh! Just FaceTime me.”
“C’mon hon, it can’t possibly take you long to get ready, you look incredible without even trying. Plus, we can carpool. Save the planet.”
You knew it wouldn’t take long for her to convince you. “Fine, I’ll text you when I’m on my way.”
After a few songs and quick outfit adjustments, you were out the door and on your way to Melissa’s. As far as you knew, the clubs Ava tended to go to were more on the luxurious side, so you hoped your bodycon skirt and baby tee were cute enough to get past security. The drive was nice, but not long enough for your nerves to calm down. You had only been to Melissa’s house a few times, you wondered what exactly you had gotten yourself into just as you pulled into the driveway and went up to her front door.
“Hey, did you at least pick out a couple options? Or am I going in completely blind?” You asked, taking a step into her house. Melissa didn’t answer you, though. Instead she quietly shut the door behind you two and very obviously looked you up and down. “This…This what you’re wearin’?” She asked before giving you a once over (again).
“I was going to, why? Do I not look good?” You began looking at yourself in the mirror in the hallway of her home, trying to fix any imperfections you could have missed. So focused on fixing yourself up, you missed Melissa sneaking up and getting in your space. That is until you could see her dark eyes in the mirror, her lips so close to your ear as she said, “No baby, you look good. Follow me,” She said, and walked away like she didn’t just turn you into the darkest shade of red.
Upstairs in her room, she motioned for you to sit on the bed while she went into her bathroom. You took a short amount of time to compose yourself and take in your surroundings. It wasn’t messy, but it was lived in, well loved. It was very Melissa, and you wouldn’t expect anything less of the woman. When she emerged, you realized she had color coordinated the two of you. Her white top underneath her jacket matched yours, and her black leather pants matched your skirt.
“Looks okay?” She asked, fluffing up her hair in the mirror once more before walking over to you. The redhead seemed to sway her hips more as she came closer, drawing more attention to the pants that hugged her tightly.
“Y-Yeah Mel, you look good.” You took the opportunity to stand back up and change the subject. “Are you ready to go? Who’s driving?”
Melissa gathered the rest of her things and motioned for you to continue ahead of her. “Barb is coming to pick us up, figured we could plan the rest out later since both our cars are at mine anyways,” she said, closing her door and following you down the stairs. You hadn’t considered that at the end of the night, you would be coming back to Melissa’s. Interesting.
The ride to the restaurant was nice, a bit of time to catch up for the work wives before meeting everyone else. You, on the other hand, zoned out for most of the ride. It wasn’t until Melissa turned around that you came back to life. “Hon, you in there?” Both her and Barbara were now looking at you, Barbara just stopping the car.
“Yeah, sorry. Just taking some me time before giving all my energy to the kids,” You replied, earning a scoff from both Melissa and Barbara.
“Those ‘kids’ are the same age as you sweetheart,” Barbara said, turning off the car and getting ready to go in.
“Doesn’t mean they don’t tire me out just like actual kids do,” You said, and shut the door behind you. You joined the two older women in stride, Melissa sneaking her hand on your lower back as you three entered the restaurant. It was easy to find your group of friends, all gathered at the high top closest to the bar. “So glad to see you could all make it!” Jacob enthusiastically said as you all sat down. “I have to say Jacob, I’m not mad at the place, so far.” Melissa teased her friend across the table. She reached for a menu in front of her, and turned to you. “Have you been here before?” She asked.
“I have, actually. It’s nice, the bar food is surprisingly decent and the bartenders know what they’re doing, which is a nice change of pace,” You answered honestly. The redhead laughed at your response, but it was clear she was genuinely listening to what you had to say.
After a few minutes, everyone had ordered a few appetizers and the first round of drinks, courtesy of Ava. “What? Yall think I don’t have principal money?” She laughed. “But you better make this first round worth it, all of yall. Drink up people!” The first round was quick to arrive, and the second round was close behind. “I’ll get this one, just in case I get too drunk and forget to pay for drinks later,” You said, half to your server and half to your friends.
Melissa’s hand snaked its way onto your thigh, squeezing it gently. “Don’t get too drunk now, I don’t want you puking in my bed later,” She said quietly to you. You laughed off her teasing, but couldn’t ignore her lingering touch on your thigh. The combination of the alcohol and Melissa’s touch made warmth spread throughout your entire body.
She didn’t stop there either. It seemed with each sip she took of her own drink, she was letting go of those walls and showing you more and more affection. As much as you loved the attention, it was driving you crazy. Every time she laughed she would lean into you, followed by meeting your eyes to see if you were laughing as hard as her. Whenever the redhead had a snarky comment to make, she would nuzzle into your hair and whisper it into your ear. Those times were the hardest to get through.
Luckily after the third round, everyone decided to change locations. Barbara was the only one who stopped after her first drink, leaving that version of Barbara for another time—someone had to wrangle in the kids.
“Alright everyone, whoever is coming to Ava’s club needs to follow me to my car, I’ll be dropping you hooligans off.” She laughed, but everyone knew she cared and would never hesitate to give any one of you a ride. Ava, Janine, Jacob, Melissa, and yourself followed Barbara’s trail in the parking lot. Gregory, despite many pleads from everyone, decided to head home. Something about getting up early for the perfect gardening weather, your memory was foggy since Melissa was drawing patterns on your back at the time.
“Wait, we have one too many…Someone has to sit lap. Couldn’t be me though, I get shotgun since I’m giving Barb the directions,” Ava told the group and quickly took her spot in the front.
“You’ll be fine, right hon? Besides, I’m a good seatbelt,” Melissa said to you, walking with you to the car and taking her spot without leaving you much choice. You took your seat, and silently prayed the club wasn’t too far away. As soon as Barbara started driving, Melissa had her hands on you. One splayed across your stomach and the other wrapped around your thigh. Luckily Ava was already in party mode and took over the music on the drive, leaving no room for conversation. If you tried talking, you fear it would be full of stutters and gasps.
Once everyone got comfortable in the car, Melissa took advantage of the position the two of you were in. She lowered her hand a bit on your stomach and tightened her grip on your thigh. You could feel her nails through your skirt and you attempted to close your legs more to get her to ease up, but of course it didn’t work. You felt her lips against the shell of your ear for a split second before you heard her voice.
“Stop squirming so much baby, or I’ll really have to hold you down.”
Although the music was loud, you knew Melissa was close enough to hear the whine that escaped you. And if she didn’t, she certainly felt your body’s reaction to her. Just a minute later you were thanking your lucky stars as Barbara pulled up to the club and lowered the music. You knew you were blushing, way too warm, just an absolute mess thanks to the woman underneath you.
“Alright kiddos, have fun and be safe! Everyone please get home safely, and make good decisions!” Barbara said her goodbye, and everyone thanked her as they made their exit. Ava led the way to the bouncer, and though you took the opportunity in the cold air to calm down, Melissa stayed close by. Even when Jacob started talking about the famous drinks they had here, she pretended to listen all while keeping her beautiful green eyes focused on you. She was driving you insane.
As soon as Ava got everyone to their VIP spot and drink orders were placed, you took off to the bathroom. Cold water and alone time was exactly what you needed. You stood in front of the bathroom mirror obsessively looking yourself over, worried that the whole club would somehow be able to tell Melissa had you wrapped around her finger and was tugging on the string like a play toy. Focused on the cool water on your hands as you began to turn on the sink, you missed the sound of the door opening.
“Everything okay, hon? You left pretty quickly. Don’t tell me Jacob’s list of ingredients scared you from the drink you ordered,” Melissa’s voice was heard from behind you. Quickly you turned off the faucet and faced her, your body betraying your mind in an instant. “Please, not much could scare me off from a drink at a place with a bar like this one,” you joked. She took a few steps closer, inching you against the back of the counter.
“Then what’s going on, amore?” She asked, but there was a tone in her voice you couldn’t pinpoint. The nickname didn’t help your state either, it never did. “N-Nothing Mel, everything’s okay.” You would’ve walked away at this point if you didn’t feel cornered by such a beautiful woman.
As if a switch flipped in her, Melissa put her hands by your sides on the counter and pressed herself against you gently. “Don’t lie to me, I could sit here all night,” she said lowly.
“Melissa…” was all you were able to get out. She pushed herself against you harder, her breasts flush with yours at this point. “I’ll ask you one more time. What’s going on?”
“I…You’ve been teasing me all night,” You felt Melissa put her hands over yours on the counter and squeeze them gently. “Mmm, I haven’t been that mean, have I? I figured most of my attitude tonight was directed towards Janine, not you dolcezza mia,” She tightened her grip on your hands with her last two words. If she wasn’t making your body feel on fire, you would’ve rolled your eyes just then.
“You know that’s not what I mean Melissa,” You said sharply, growing tired of this game with her. “Oh, this teasing then?” She asked, and a second later had her thigh pressed against your core, bodies closer than they ever have been. You groaned at the feeling and had to fight every urge to not grind against her in that moment. All you could do was nod, which drove Melissa crazy. You didn’t know it yet, but she loved teasing you until you couldn’t take it anymore, making you beg and plead for what you want.
“Aww, you poor thing, let me help you then.” Melissa slowly began rubbing her thigh back and forth against you, and captured your lips in hers to keep you quiet. She let go of your hands and let you touch her, and you wasted no time pulling her closer. The older woman moaned at how tightly and desperately you pulled at her. She broke apart the kiss to continue her way down your jaw and throat, and you felt her use her leg to open yours even more.
“Melissa…S-Someone could walk in,” you said between gasps. “No they won’t, I locked the door behind me,” She stopped kissing you for a moment to smile up at you, and you realized Melissa had planned this, and you went right along with it. In your moment of distraction, Melissa had pulled your skirt up, and it wasn’t until you felt her nails on your thighs again you realized it. “God, Melissa, you’ve been teasing me all night…please,” You muttered.
“Please what, my love?” You rolled your eyes at her response, to which Melissa dug her nails harder into your skin.
“Please touch me, fuck me, I need to feel you. I need you.” At your words Melissa brought her lips back up to yours, ever so slightly brushing them together. “Good girl.”
Melissa tugged your underwear to the side and slowly drew a finger up and down your center. The bathroom was filled with your moans and Melissa’s gentle shushes and kisses across your body. She didn’t hesitate giving you exactly what you wanted, the feeling of her fingers inside you bringing you closer and closer to the edge every passing second. Her lips felt so soft as they left red and purple marks along your neck, her perfume surrounded you entirely, all you could feel was her. Opening your eyes, you looked at her. Her red hair falling across the two of you, the way her pants looked so good on her tonight, her fingers pumping in and out of you.
“Baby I’m s-so close…please Melissa,” You moaned. She kissed her way back up, stopped right by your ear again and said, “Let go sweetheart, let it all go for me.” After a few more touches, you rode your orgasm out against Melissa, overstimulated from the senses. She let you catch your breath, every once in a while planting a gentle kiss somewhere she left a mark earlier. Once you opened your eyes and met her green ones again, she spoke up. “Hi beautiful.”
“Hi,” you giggled out. You felt higher than ever, post alcohol and orgasm. Melissa took your hands again and helped you stand up straight, adjusting your skirt in the process. It was sweet seeing her like this, so caring without having to say a word. You pulled her back up to you, kissing her again. This time it was less rushed, and you hoped she could feel your admiration and gratefulness in it all.
“I guess we should go back out there before our drinks get watered down,” Melissa said once the two of you finally pulled apart. “Yeah, I guess. But only if you let me hear what your moans sound like when we get home,” You replied.
Melissa giggled and led the two of you to the door, “Deal.”
#melissa schemmenti x reader#melissa schemmenti x you#melissa schemmenti#reader fic#wlw fic#abbott elementary#abbott elementary fic#abbott elementary fics#lisa ann walter
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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
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This might be a weird request, but can you write a fic where reader is a new teacher at abbot and is like really innocent, kinda like Ms honey from Matilda for reference, and Melissa just wants to ruin her and her innocence.
This is definitely kinky so I would understand if u don’t want to write it! But if you do their sex would definitely be kinky!🤭
-Caught in the moment-
Pairing:Melissa Schemmenti x Reader
Gender:Smut, very detailed Smut! Kinky
Warnings:yes! +18 Smut, Kinks
Summary:Melissa decides to show you what it was like to be with a real woman.
Hi! I love your username, it made me laugh a lot. I hope you like it, enjoy it and that it's what you expected 💞💞
Usually innocence went hand in hand with one's age, the younger one, the more innocent. But lately almost no one preserves their innocence, children from a very young age already know many things that perhaps they shouldn't, it was noticeable in their vocabulary and in their way of acting. They knew a lot about sex, drugs, and alcohol, lost their virginity at a very young age, and had almost no childhood anymore. Melissa knew all this, she saw it at school every day, especially in the slightly older students.
So accustomed to this behavior, she was surprised when you came to work at school, she never thought that the most innocent person there would end up being a teacher.
Mel loved your innocence, she actually loved disturbing it, she had so much fun making you nervous and making you stutter and blush. Barbara often called her out by telling her to stop bothering you, but as always, the redhead ignored her.
Your students called you Miss Honey because of how sweet you were to them, you always went above and beyond to protect and help them.
Many teachers loved you, but others didn't like the way you were, they thought that your innocence was just a façade...
Ava went into the teachers' room to make herself a coffee, everyone was there except you
-"What's up slackers" - she greeted everyone while grabbing her cup- "I need to know... What do you think about the new teacher?"-She whispered, looking for gossip
-"I think she's a good teacher, I haven't seen much of her classes but the kids love her for a reason" - Barbara commented truthfully
-"The other day when I was walking down the hallway I saw how she taught history to the little ones, they were so focused on her, I myself was attracted by the way she teaches and I stayed listening to her for a long time" - Jacob commented
-"Oh come on! Now that Janine is not here, the new girl is the new Janine, with her whiny voice and cheerful self... Help me here Melissa" - Ava kept insisting, trying to get some interesting comment out of them, but the redhead just shrugged her shoulders
-"I don't know, I like her" - Melissa said simply
-"Shocking" - Barbara commented, earning herself a blow to the arm from her friend.
-"Good morning my fellow pears" - You commented entering the room and everyone fell silent, especially Ava, without giving it much importance you started to make a coffee-"Anyone want more coffee?" - You offered and everyone refused, but Mel said yes and handed you her cup, which you carefully refilled and returned, the redhead brushed your hand smiling and took your wrist and brought you closer to her
-"Thank you little lamb" - Mel whispered kissing your wrist and then took a sip of her coffee humming, smiling and looking into your eyes- "Perfect and sweet like you..."-She whispered making you blush, her eyes, her smile, her lips on your wrist, everything she was was hypnotic, making it hard to take your gaze away from her. Someone coughed making you fall back into reality again
-"I made cookies, someone wants some?"-You offered to change the subject and avoid looking at the redhead, who followed your interaction with a lot of curiosity.
This wasn't the first time Mel had done that kind of thing only to see you blush and make you nervous, she did it so often that by this point others saw it as normal.
At the end of the break, you returned to your classroom with your students, who were excited to see you again.
Whenever Mel could, she would take advantage of the moment and pass by the door of your classroom just to listen to you talk to the children, conveniently your classroom was next to hers so she listened to you whenever she wanted.
-"Miss honey, a kid at lunchtime pushed me and my glasses broke" - A little boy commented to you with teary eyes just as the redhead was passing through the door, the boy was holding his glasses in his little hands and you sighed kneeling beside him with a soft expression, letting your flowery dress touch the ground, carefully you took his glasses and caressed his little face
-"I'm so sorry little one, do you know who it was?" - You asked him and he nodded-"Very well, I'll talk to their parents after school, yes?" - You whispered, and the little guy nodded again-"Would a hug make you feel better?" - The little boy nodded and you hugged him tight while he let out a few little sobs-"I'll fix your glasses right now" - You whispered hugging him and looked at the others kids-"Kids, do we have a friend who hasn't had a good day, any ideas to make him feel better?" - You asked questions and the kids started saying good ideas to help him, Mel smiled and went on her way.
At the end of the day, when almost all the children had left, you stayed at the school waiting for the parents of the child who had hit and broken your student's glasses. The aggressive kid was a few years older than your students, so he had more strength, and for some reason he had an arrogant smile as you waited for their parents.
Melissa was about to go to her car when she saw you in the driveway with the student, so she stayed next to you
-"Hi little lamb... You okay?" - She whispered and you nodded, avoiding looking her in the eye
-"Yes... I'm just waiting for his parents... That here they come" - You whispered seeing the student's parents. You tried to calmly and kindly explain the situation to them, but they were quite aggressive and defended their child at all costs, which made you understand why the boy had such an arrogant smile, he knew he wouldn't be in trouble because his parents stood up for him always
-"Look, I understand if you want to trust your son and his behavior, but many saw him push and hit one of my students and broke his glasses, I wish he would at least apologize or help the parents pay for his new glasses..."-You said, trying to make your voice as firm as possible
-"You're not going to come and tell us what to do or how to raise him"-They answered you in a bad way and you sighed
-"No one is imposing any of that on you , but if you don't start correcting and disciplining your child, he's going to get into more and more trouble... And he maybe ends up being a bad person" - You whispered without much confidence
-"Are you accusing my son of being a bad person? Who do you think you are?" - One of the parents got very angry and accused you by pushing your shoulder
-"Hey, let's calm down" - Melissa tried to diffuse the situation
-"No, that's not what I meant... I meant that if you don't discipline him he could end up being disrespectful and aggressive like you" - You didn't want to say it like that, but nerves got the words out before you could register them. And before you could correct yourself, a fist blocked your view. One of the parents had struck you with his fist over one of your eyes, stumbling you up and making you take a few steps back
-"Hey asshole!" - Melissa screamed and hit him back, standing up for you. The blow left you a little dizzy and you didn't register much more of what happened until Mel guided you to your classroom and brought an ice pack for your eye-"Are you with me litte lamb?" - she whispered putting the ice in your eye and you nodded
-"Are they gone?" - You asked sitting on a table looking at her with your good eye
-"Yes... Mr. Johnson called the police and they took care of it... It's cute how you wanted to defend your student, but we need to work on your reflexes..."-she joked and you nodded
-"Yeah... Thank you for standing up for me...and for this" - You pointed to the ice she was still holding, Mel smiled and carefully stroked your cheek
-"Don't even mention it" - She whispered and you couldn't help but smile at her, taking advantage of how close she was to admire her beauty, but the redhead frowned-"Stop looking at me like that" - Whispered
-"Why?" - You laughed
-"You look at me like a deer dazzled down by the lights of a car" - The redhead was still frowning
-"I'm dazzle by your gorgeous face..." - You whispered embarrassedly and she laughed
-"If you're going to flirt, at least do it with confidence... Do you want me to teach you? "-She joked and you jokingly shoved her
-"Maybe I don't know much about sex or that, but I know how to flirt, you just make me nervous..." - You confessed a little embarrassed
-"Do you want to learn?" - Mel whispered and stood between your legs, you looked up in confusion
-"What?" - you asked
-"If you want me to teach you, about sex... I'm sure if you know more about sex you'd be more confident to flirt with me" - she commented with an arrogant smile and you rolled your eyes
-"I don't think that fixes things, I'm shy by nature..."-You murmured looking away from her, tired of her making fun of you
-"Hey..."-Mel grabbed your jaw making you look at her-"I'm not making fun of you, I'm trying to make you understand how much I'm attracted to you...Look hon, I'm an older woman, I know what I want and like and I won't be messing around anymore, I want you, I love how you are, but I want to ruin that innocence and make you mine, I want the most inappropriate memories to come to your head when you think of me..."-she responded making you blush more, but you were too nervous to be able to respond-"Jesus! I'm telling you all these things and you keep looking at me with that innocent face, as if I didn't notice how you look at me out of the corner of your eye or how you look at my breasts when I bend down... Please tell me this isn't just my imagination because I'm going crazy..."-Melissa whispered, setting the ice on the table, you barely smiled and kissed the tip of her nose, which confused the redhead as she didn't expect that
-"I like you... But... I've never been with a woman, I don't know how to do any of this..."-You whispered embarrassedly and the redhead laughed caressing your jaw
-"Leave it to me, you just relax and enjoy" - She whispered before kissing your lip softly and slowly. Her lips were soft and had a little cherry flavor from her lipstick, they were plump and strong, expert at kissing. A shiver ran down your head, down your spine and down your feet as her teeth brushed your lips and she took a gentle bite pulling a little, an involuntary moan escaped your lips and you blushed a lot as you listened to yourself. You knew how to kiss, you'd done it several times, but she was something unlike anything you'd tried before. Mel smiled arrogantly as she listened to you and looked into your eyes with great desire, as if with your moan you would have activated something animalistic in her. Her firm hands rested on your thighs without taking her eyes off your face
-"You know? Your dresses always drive me crazy... But your moans are something else..."-she whispered over your lips and began to kiss your jaw as her hands lifted your floral dress a little so she could caress your skin, her nails purposely scratched your legs and you moaned softly again. Her kisses on your neck, her body against yours, her hands, everything around you was Melissa, and you couldn't be happier about it.
Mel began to kiss the neckline of your dress, gently biting your breasts as her hand moved up your leg reaching for the edge of your underwear
-"Mel..."-Her name came out like a groan from your mouth, in the ears of the redhead it sounded as if the angels were singing praises to god-"We're still in school, what if someone comes?" - Your voice trembled, but not with fear, but with pleasure
-"There's no one left, there's only Mr. Johnson cleaning the classrooms, but it will take a long time for him to get here..."-She whispered and pulled your dress up to your waist, smiling at the sight of your pink underwear with small flowers-"God, I want to ruin you so bad"-She murmured in a deep voice and knelt in front of you, licking her lips as if you were a delicious dish and she was a hungry woman who hadn't eaten in months. You tried to close your legs a little so you wouldn't feel so vulnerable, but the redhead grabbed your knees avoiding it. She carefully grabbed one of your legs and began kissing it from your knee to almost your crotch, taking small bites along the way. And you just thought about how pathetic you should look trying to hold back your moans.-"I told you to relax..."-Melissa murmured against your thigh as if she could read your mind. Her free hand moved up your body to your chest and gently pushed you so that you were laying over the table, resting on your shoulders so that you wouldn't lie completely flat. Because of that position your legs spread further apart and that satisfied the redhead. With the tip of her nose, Melissa brushed and pressed her nose on your crotch over your underwear, causing you to shiver and a gasp to come out of your mouth as you let your head fall back-"That's it, relax..."-she whispered, and her nose brushed your crotch again, specially over the wet patch that had formed in your underwear. Which made her smile arrogantly when she saw how wet you were thanks to her. Gently she blew air from her mouth on where it was wet, giving you chills from how cold it felt. Her tongue traveled the same path her nose had traveled, it felt soft, the mixture of your juices with her saliva, but also the underwear generated friction against your fols and clit, which made you move your hips against her mouth, looking for more of it, more of her.
Mel pulled your underwear to the side without taking it off, coming face to face with your dripping entrance. Two of her fingers collected your juices and then spread it all over your vagina, then kept your lips open and separated. Your entrance was practically beating at this point, begging for her, for something else
-"Look at you, you don't look so innocent now little lamb..." - she whispered before burying her face between your legs. Her plump lips expertly sucked on your clit, alternating with the tip of her tongue to play with it too. At this point you were so wet that it was spreading down her chin and even wetting your desk. The redhead clawed at your legs again as her tongue penetrated you as deep as it could. At this point your moans were animalistic and desperate. You carefully rested your body on one of your hands and with the other you grabbed her hair by pulling it and pushing her face deeper and closer to you, without worrying if she could breathe or not. When the redhead's nose pressed down on your button, you started riding it on her face and it was a matter of seconds until you came on her face, letting out your loudest moan along with her name and a few insults. Without much strength you lay back completely on your desk while the redhead continued to lick your folds trying to make sure nothing went to waste. Your breathing was ragged and you felt like you were on another planet, as Melissa kissed your legs softly trying to help you come back to reality.
The moment your body reacted and you opened your eyes staring at the ceiling, your blood ran cold
-"FUCK!" - You screamed and Mel looked at you worriedly, when she followed your gaze, she saw on the ceiling a very well hidden, almost imperceptible camera, camera that had probably captured everything that had happened and that it was surely hiding and recording in Ava's office.
#melissa schemmenti soft#melissa schemmenti smut#melissa schemmenti x you#melissa schemmenti fanfic#melissa schemmenti x reader#melissa schemmenti#abbott elementary fanfic#melissa schemmenti abott elementary#abott elementary fanfic#abott elementary#abbot elementary#abbott elementary#lisa ann walter fanfic#lissa ann walter#lisa ann walter
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valentines date auction
a/n: please do not fight me... i meant to finish and post this before valentine's days. i also started this like 9 months ago. i'm working through my drafts, bear with me please.
prompt: ava convinces the staff to throw a valentine's day fling to raise money for the school.
“So this year to bring in some extra money, I’ve come up with a brilliant idea. I think you’re all going to love it because it involves all of my favorite things.” Ava announced at the mic with a smile causing the teachers to roll their eyes.
“Get on with it.” Melissa called from her seat in the gym. Barbara leaned over to swat her thigh as a warning but Melissa wasn’t too worried about her when she felt the younger woman on her other side shaking with giggles at her comment. Y/n Y/Ln, Abbott Elementary’s new PE teacher. She’d been working there since the start of the school year and she was approaching her first year with Abbott. She’d somehow wormed her way into the core group of teachers at Abbott and she unknowingly wormed her way into the forefront of Melissa Schemmenti’s mind.
“We’re doing a Valentine’s Day Date Auction!” Ava grinned as she clicked to another slide on her powerpoint. “I’ll be auctioning off dates with our most attractive staff! And before you ask if this is legal, I don’t care. It’s for the children. So who wants in?” The room filled with concerned silence as no one made a move to sign up. “Oh don’t act like you people are getting dates on your own. This could be great for you,” At the continued silence Ava sighed, “Fine, the dates will be to wherever you like with a credit to handle the cost. It’s a free outing, people.”
There’s a bit more bite and people’s hands started to raise in agreement. Melissa and Barb both shook their heads as Ava wrote people’s names down. “I can’t believe anyone is agreeing to this.” Melissa groaned.
“Who’re you telling, girlfriend? My Gerald would never participate in an auction like this and that’s the only man I’ll ever go on a date with.”
“It must be so nice to not have to go through the whole courting stage anymore. It’s so exhausting trying to find a date nowadays.” Y/n grumbled crossing her legs as she leaned over to speak to Barb.
“Oh don’t tell me you struggle to find a date?” Melissa eyed suspiciously.
“Oh yeah. It’s hard out here. It’s so hard in fact that I will be the grand finale of this auction.” Y/n grimaced as both of the older women eyed her in shock.
“You’re up for sale?” Melissa asked incredulously.
“Not for sale, more like for rent.” Y/n corrected causing both women to roll their eyes. “Oh come on, it’s for a good cause and I get a free meal out of it. There aren’t really any cons. I could meet my wife.”
Barb seemed to be sold a bit on the idea, but the redhead was still on the fence. She and the PE teacher had been doing a bit of a flirtatious tango all year and she could never really tell if she was serious or not. Melissa had gotten to a point in her life where she really didn’t question who she was attracted to anymore, but she hadn’t figured out how to tell who was seriously attracted to her yet. Casual flirting aside, Melissa really didn’t know what Y/n’s type was. And she definitely didn’t have the guts to find out if she was her type. But that didn’t mean she wanted to see her auctioned off to some young philly broad.
“Plus it was either me or Gregory. He looked like he was going to have a heartattack when Ava asked which of us was going to seal the deal. I do what I can to keep you core teachers alive.” Y/n smirked with a final shrug. That caused both older women to chuckle, one easier than the other, but Y/n didn’t seemed to notice the confliction on Melissa’s face.
Once Ava was satisfied with the number of teachers on her Valentine’s Day Auction roster, she closed the meeting out and release the teachers to their evenings. She hurried down the steps of the steps of the stage to catch Y/n as she stood up from her seat next to Melissa.
“Y/n, how do you feel about dressing up as a construction worker?” Ava asked excitedly as she pulled up a picture on her phone.
“Absolutely not. You’ll be lucky if I show up in something other than a track suit.” Y/n said pushing the woman’s phone away from her face.
“What about-” Ava started.
“No.” Y/n cut her off with her best smile. She reached up and patted Ava’s shoulder with a shake of her head. “Keep asking and I won’t show up at all.” That last threat seemed shut Ava up with a grumble. She sulked off with her roster and headed for her office as everyone readied themselves to go home for the night. Y/n looked at the two veteran teachers with smiles, “Alright ladies, I’ll see you both tomorrow. Have a great evening.”
“You too Y/n.” Barbara smiled as she head for the door, Melissa trailing behind a bit as she caught the PE teachers eyes.
“See ya kid.” Melissa called, causing the younger teacher to shoot a wink over her shoulder as she moved to help Mr. Johnson clear the chairs from the gym. Melissa’s cheeks heated as she rounded the corner out of them gym and fell in step with Barb. They briefly parted to lock up their classrooms and when they hit the couple of steps outside of the school Melissa was shocked for the second time within the last hour.
“So are you gonna bid on Y/n or tell her how you feel before the auction?” Barb asked with a knowing smirk.
“What?” Melissa asked incredulously trying to hide the heat rising to her cheeks.
“Oh don’t play dumb with me. You’ve been all but drooling over her for the better part of the school year. I don’t think I can watch it for much longer. This is your chance to make a move. She said it herself, she’s single and very much looking. So much so that she’s agreed to auction off and evening with herself. What can you need?”
“Maybe any sort of indication that she feels the same way? I mean yeah we casually flirt, but how am I suppose to pursue anything if the whole thing was just a joke to her?” Melissa scowled.
“I highly doubt that’s the case. Do you know how many times Ava has attempted to do that whole flirting thing with her? Or the amount of parents, suddenly concerned with the PE curriculum. She hasn’t shown anyone as much attention as she consistently shows you.” Barb listed as Gerald pulled into the lot next Melissa’s car. Barbara smiled and waved at her husband before turning to look at her friend, “You’ve got to make a move girlfriend, before one of these parents snatch your chance at the auction.”
Melissa grumbles but heads to her home to think over what her friend said. She hated how right Barb sounded.
-
The Valentine’s Auction came much sooner than anyone was ready for. The morning of the event seemed to have the entire teachers lounge buzzing with excitement and trepidation. Janine, ever the chatty Kathy had taken to questioning everyone on what they planned to wear tonight. As soon as Y/n entered the room, Janine was up and buzzing.
“Oh Y/n! What are you wearing tonight?” The shorter woman bounced on her heels next to the PE teacher as she doctored up a mug of tea.
“Why? What have you heard?” Y/n asked suspiciously, hoping Ava hasn’t somehow told everyone about her costume ideas.
“Well I just want to make sure I’m not the only one wearing festive things. And I wanna make sure we’re not wearing the same thing of course. Wouldn’t want the fashion police to have a ‘who wore better’ moment.” Janine rambled and Y/n nodded following as much as she could.
“Oh. I don’t know yet. I’ve got a couple pink tracksuits that might really draw people in.” Y/n chuckled taking her seat next to Melissa with a grin. “What do you think, is Nike sexy enough to secure a date with a Philly eleven like yourself?”
Melissa rolled her eyes at Barbs foot kicking her under the table, “I’m sure you could pull a Philly eleven wearing far less than a pink Nike tracksuit.”
Y/n smiled and winked at the older teacher before turning her attention back to Janine, “Listen Janine. I highly doubt we’ll be wearing the same thing but don’t worry, I’ll have something within the valentines color scheme on.” The second grade teacher nodded, heading back to her seat.
“So you’re both coming tonight right?” Y/n asked hopefully.
“Yep, Gerald and I will be there. I wouldn’t want to miss seeing you meet your date.” Barb smiled with raised eyebrows.
“How about you Red? Gonna be there to bail me out if some crazy bids on me?” Y/n asked.
“Anything for you, hun.” Melissa smiled, knowing those words held a lot more weight than she was letting on.
“Good. I’ll see you both later than.” Y/n smiled squeezing Melissa’s shoulder affectionately before heading to the gym.
-
“Welcome to the Avalentine’s Day Auction! We’re so glad you could all join us for our fundraising event this school year. As you know, Abbott is always looking for ways to better our school for your students and with that in mind, I hope you brought your checkbooks and rich friends because we’ve got some sexy staff members ready to go home with you all for a good cause.” Ava smiled looking out over the crowd.
As Ava stood on the stage, Melissa sat in a table toward the back of the room with Barb, Gerald, and Gregory. Jacob and Janine were off scoping the potential bidders out. She herself was scoping the room out as well, but she was mostly looking for Y/n. She hadn’t seen her since that morning and part of her was much more desperate to see her than she usually allowed herself. It didn’t help that she had brought her checkbook and knew a part of her was willing to drain her savings to keep Y/n from going out with one of these young broads. As if she realized she looked ridiculous scanning the room, Melissa turned back to her table companions. Janine and Jacob came back shortly after Melissa pulled herself from her own search. Janine panting out of breath and Jacob grinning mischievously ready to spill the details of their crowd search.
“There are quite a few people here. And we heard a lot of interest.”
“Interest in the two of you?” Melissa found herself asking. She didn’t mean to sound so shocked but it just came out that way. Both of the younger teachers shrank a bit but recovered when the redhead looked apologetic.
“Not exactly. Most of the women here are torn between being disappointed Gregory isn’t up there and excited that Y/n is. Speaking of, has anyone see her? I wanna see what outfit she went with.” Jacob said rising from his seat to scan the room. Oblivious to the panic he’d cause within Melissa.
“Oh there she is, damn! She cleans up nice.” Janine called as she drew the groups attention to the doors to the gym. And Melissa damn near forgot how to breathe. Y/n paused in the doorway scanning the room, for their group presumably, but she was dressed in something none of them had ever seen her in. Gone were her trainers, baggy sweats, and matching hoodie sets. She was clad in fitted high waisted trousers and a matching vest top that showed just enough skin to have Melissa’s mind running. Her hair was held back by a red head band that matched her red ankle boots and leather jacket. Melissa was at a true loss for words. Y/n spotted the group and started making her way over with a smile.
Before she could get too close Melissa felt Barb’s hand cup her chin and push up, “Close your mouth, you’ll catch flies.” She teased lightly causing Gerald to chuckle.
Tonight was going to be a long long night. And she knew in her heart she might leave broker than she already was.
-
“Alright ladies, this last one is for you!” Ava grinned as she motioned for Y/n to come up to the stage.
The PE teacher grimaced and looked at the people at her table nervously, “Wish me luck.” She called before leaving to be paraded around the stage. She made it to the stairs and as she came into the view for the room, the cheers followed. Her cheeks heated in embarrassment but she trudged on reminding herself of the cause and the prospect of a decent meal on Ava’s dime.
“Last but certainly not least. The finest thing to happen to Abbott Elementary since I became principal. Our PE teacher, Y/n Y/Ln! Strut your stuff boo!” Ava introduced causing the room to erupt further. And Melissa’s scowl to set.
“She’s very fit as you can see. Super funny and super hot. She could probably bench you. Let’s start the bidding at $50?” Ava started. That didn’t last long though. Hands and paddles shot up eagerly at the price. So far, no one had gone for over $150, but Ava had a feeling Y/n was going to be the exception.
“Can I get a $100 then? $150? $200?” Ava called and some hands dropped but there were still quite a few waving in the air. Ava motioned for Y/n to do a spin on the stage and she obliged if only to make the whole thing go a bit faster.
“Alright how about $300?” That seemed to do it and there was one hand left up. Y/n recognized her, Lauren Williams. She’d been one of the first people to schedule a meeting with Y/n when she started claiming her son had some health issues that may impact his participation in the gym class. After the first meeting, it was very clear her son had no problems and it was really just a ploy to get the gym teacher alone. She’d been dodging her since she started and she really wasn’t looking forward to how this was going.
“300 going once, going twice…” Ava called waving the bedazzled gavel she’d gotten herself. Until a familiar hand shot up at the back table. “I see 350? Alright Schemmenti, I see you.” Ava grinned. “Do I hear 400?” Lauren’s hand was back up, quickly. “450? Anyone?”
All eyes shifted to Melissa to see her contemplation before she waved her hand again and Ava squealed in delight. Everyone of the teachers at the table looked at her incredulously but her eyes were darting between Lauren’s head and the stage.
“450 going once, going twice, and…” Before Ava could even finish, Lauren shot to her feet and called out.
“500!” Everyone in the room looked at the woman in shock.
“What?” Y/n asked in shock. Eyes goes to Ava in alarm. $500 for a date with her was absolutely insane. Anyone willing to pay that had to b crazy.
“Sold!” Ava grinned. And the room erupted in applause.
-
Melissa was sulking in her seat when Y/n finally returned to table. She couldn’t believe she’d been outbid like that. Part of her was happy considering she wasn’t really prepared for the financial consequences of this little auction, but that didn’t make her forget the date Y/n would be going on with Lauren. Everyone else was scattered around the gym. Dancing with their dates, eating the refreshments, or playing the various valentine’s day them games that they had set up. The redhead didn’t look up when the younger teacher joined her but she knew exactly who had joined her even without looking.
“Damn red, if you wanted to go out with me that bad you could’ve just asked me. I wouldn’t have charged $500 for one night. I might’ve made you cook for me, but five big ones is asking a bit much especially when I actually like you.” Y/n said taking a sip of the punch they were serving. Melissa gazed at the younger woman a little dumbfounded but she didn’t seem to notice as she continued to talk. “Lauren and I are gonna go mini golfing Saturday morning, yuck I know. But I was thinking you and I could do dinner Saturday, if you’re not busy. That way I can get that out of the way. Do you she’ll try to kill me? I’m a little scared and I know I said there were no cons but that was before she basically jumped on the table to ensure she could spend $500 on an hour of my time…” Y/n continued to ramble.
Melissa had no choice but to laugh as she listened. “Is this you asking me out?” The older woman finally interrupted, trying to play it cool.
“I didn’t think I needed to ask you formally, since you almost spent $1,000 to keep me from going out with someone else.” Y/n grinned as she finally faced Melissa.
“Oh you’re exaggerating now.” Melissa scoffed as her cheeks heated a bit.
“Well duh, who else can say they had a Philly eleven start a bidding war over them. I’m going to milk this as much as I can. I’ll wear it as a badge of honor. Melissa Schemmenti almost emptied her bank account for me.”
“Oh shut it will you.” Melissa groaned and shoved the younger teacher playfully. “The answer is yes. Even if you don’t think you need to ask me formally. I’d love to do dinner Saturday night. And any other night you’d like.”
“Good. Cause I can be very hungry. And all I’ve heard is that you’re like the best cook in Philly.” Y/n grinned scooting her folding chair over closer to Melissa’s.
“Oh you’re in for a treat. And a Schemmenti meal is worth well over five hundred bucks.” Melissa teased.
“Yeah, well so are you Red.” Y/n smiled softly leaning over to kiss Melissa’s blushing cheek sweetly.
Outbid but extremely happy.
#lisa ann walter x reader#lisa ann walter#abbott elementary x reader#melissa schemmenti x reader#melissa schemmenti#msschemmenti
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