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Masterlist
Last Updated: 6/18/26 Total Works: 6
Abbott Elementary
Melissa Schemmenti
Oneshots
Ten Hearts
Death and Taxes
Multi-Chapter Fics
Thinking Of You (Scarlett Street 1/?)
The House We Built: Chapter 1,
Janine Teagues
Oneshots
Fix-It Felix
Ava Coleman
Multi-Chapter Fics
Firsts and Furniture: Part 1
The House We Built
Chapter 1
Pairing: Melissa x reader
Summary: Between flipping houses and raising her daughter, Y/N has ran herself to the ground. When she accidentally forgets to pick her child up from school and faces the wrath of one Melissa Schemmenti, her whole world turns upside down. It's up to her to decide if it's for the better or the worse.
Warnings: None
Word Count: 3.4k
*** *** *** *** ***
There was nothing you liked about Philadelphia. It was loud, busy, and there were too many people for your liking— you were beginning to think city life just wasn’t for you at all. Your daughter Jada loved it, but she never really was picky. She loved anywhere you went, as long as she had her books and toys.
Everyday, you asked yourself why you even moved to Philly and you always reminded yourself of the listing.
The house you bought— a beautiful three bedroom craftsman style home— was listed well under market value on a property website. It was less expensive than the houses you normally flipped and the payout would be more, so you jumped the gun and dumped your savings into it.
Once you got to Philadelphia seven months ago, you realized how big of a mistake that was.
The place was practically falling apart when you got the keys. The windows were boarded up, holes in the roof needed patched, and it was spray painted with words you wouldn’t even dare to repeat. When you first saw it, you sobbed in the driveway and you probably would’ve stayed like that all night if it weren’t for your sweet daughter. She pulled out her watercolor paints and offered them to you for help.
From that moment, you became determined to make the most of it. You started with Jada’s bedroom— removing the boards, ripping out bad carpet, and furnishing the room was easy enough. Working on the other rooms was a different story, and you’d be lying if it hasn’t been wearing you down since.
“Jada, honey?” You called from the kitchen when you heard the floor creak. You carefully set down the paintbrush into the can and wiped your hands on the front of your shirt. “Hey, babe. How’d you sleep?” You asked when your daughter padded into the room from the hallway.
Her brown hair was messed with sleep, large tangles like birds nests at the back of her head. She yawned loudly, arms stretching into the air. “I slept good, Mommy. I had a dream about Nana.”
“Oh, you did? Why don’t you tell me about it while I make you something to eat. How’s that sound?” You tried not to flinch when she mentioned your mother. A guilty feeling settled at the bottom of your stomach when you thought of missing her last call, and you found yourself wincing slightly. You’d texted her with an excuse, and she was understanding as she always was.
That somehow made it worse.
“Okay, so, I went to sleep and then I opened my eyes and I was at Nana’s house,” Jada started. She chattered on for ten whole minutes, her little voice carrying throughout the kitchen. You made a quick breakfast as she talked— scrambled eggs, a baked hashbrown, and some fresh fruit. Just as she was coming to the end of her story, you slid the plate over to her on the counter. “And then Nana said she loved me and you. Then she kissed me on the head and I woke back up!”
“Sounds like a good dream, baby.”
She hummed between bites of egg, “It was.”
You rested your hands on the opposite sides of the counter as you watched her eat. Moving around a lot had an effect on her that you sometimes tried to forget. It was selfish, you knew it was, but you liked to pretend she wasn’t like every other seven year old. Jada didn’t need to stay at the same school. She didn’t need anything more than just her single mother. She didn’t need to sleep in the same bed, the same house, or see the same friends.
But you were wrong. You could see it in her face— she was tired of it but too sweet to voice it to you. You weren’t a bad mom by any means, but this one thing was wearing you both down.
You just didn’t know where you’d even go if you could settle down.
“Mommy?”
“Yeah, babe?”
You blinked back your spiraling thoughts to see Jada holding up her clean plate. “I’m all done now.”
You smiled. “Good girl. Now, do you want Mommy to pick out your outfit today or do you want to?”
You set the plate in the sink and ran the water over it, watching as it collected all the leftover bits of egg and hashbrown. Jada tapped her chin as if she were thinking heavily, but you both already knew her answer.
“You do it!” She giggled as she jumped from the stool and ran into the hallway. You shook your head lovingly.
If there was one thing you knew for certain, it was that Jada McKenna was a Mommy’s girl.
*** *** *** *** ***
By the time 8:30 rolled around, you had Jada dressed and in the car. You drove down the road with the radio on, Maroon 5’s “She Will Be Loved” playing softly through the speakers. You took a quick glance toward your rear view mirror to look at Jada in the backseat.
She bobbed her head casually as she looked out the window, her long hair tamed and pinned back with a butterfly clip. Due to the warm weather, you dressed her in a sparkling Hello Kitty shirt and pink leggings to match. You tried to get her to wear a pair of flats, but she was your daughter, so she’d insisted on her usual pair of light up Sketchers.
Jada looked like the spitting image of childhood, and you found yourself smiling as you drove her to school.
When you were a minute or two away from Abbott, you broke the silence.
“Anything special going on today?”
“Mm, Ms. Schemmenti said we’re playing a game,” Jada’s little voice called from the backseat.
“What kind of game?” You slowed the car as you came to a stop light, the engine humming as you waited for it to turn green. You glanced back at Jada again just as she started to shuffle around in her seat.
“I don know, Mom!” She laughed.
You chuckled, too. “What’s so funny back there? You laughing at your old mom?”
The light turned green and you were off again. It only took you another minute to get to the school and pull into the drop off line. From the windshield, you watched as a woman with red hair guided children inside. She wore a bright smile on her face, her lips moving quickly as she spoke to a little boy that ran up to her.
You immediately recognized her as Melissa Schemmenti, Jada’s second grade teacher. You only ever met her one time at orientation, but you heard about her almost every day when your daughter came home. It was always Ms. Schemmenti this and Ms. Schemmenti that. Sometimes, it was so much that you couldn’t help getting jealous.
Looking at her now, though, you were jealous for an entirely different reason. She was absolutely stunning.
Jada’s excited chatter tore you from your thoughts. “Hey, listen baby,” you called, trying to gain her focus for a few more seconds. “Mommy’s gonna pick you up after school and we’re gonna get dinner. How’s that sound?”
“From where?”
You rolled your eyes playfully. “Where do you think?”
“McDonalds!”
“McDonalds it is then, silly girl.” You drove the car up a little bit, pulling closer to the curb so she could hop out. Jada swung the door open and grabbed her bag, walking to the driver’s window to say goodbye.
You rolled down your window. “Alright, babe. Mommy loves you so much, be a good girl for me today, okay?” You pressed your lips to her forehead, holding it for a second longer than you needed to. When you pulled back, Jada planted her own kiss on your cheek.
“Love you, bye Mommy!”
She skipped away from the car, her Skechers lighting up as she bounded across the parking lot. Ms. Schemmenti greeted her with a wide smile and open arms, leaning down to give her a hug. As you rolled up your window, you could hear her loud voice.
“Hey, kiddo! Ready for a good day?”
Jada squealed and hugged her back, pressing her face into the teacher’s red hair. You exhaled slowly as you watched the scene unravel.
If you had to be jealous of anyone, you supposed Melissa Schemmenti was the best person for the job.
*** *** *** *** ***
Melissa Schemmenti was a busy woman.
Between grading papers, wiping noses, and somehow finding time to make homemade dinners every night— she had grown exhausted. She felt it weigh down on her shoulders every time she cracked open a new bottle of wine or ate lunch in her classroom instead of the teacher’s lounge. Once, a few weeks ago, she considered taking a few days vacation but that idea left as quickly as it came.
She just didn’t have the time.
The clock ticked away in the corner of the room as Melissa sat at her desk. A stack of ungraded math tests sat in front of her, weeks old and entirely forgotten about. Her red pen rested between her two fingers as she tapped it against the wood surface. Something was preventing her from doing her work, but she didn’t know what.
Sighing, she looked down at the first test. The name Gavin Kline was scrawled messily across the top of the paper, trailing off into a bunch of dots as if he’d poked it with a pencil ten times over. There were only ten questions— basic addition ones, at that— but he’d only opted to answer four, two entirely incorrect. Quickly, Melissa crossed off the bulleted problems with her pen and wrote ‘please see me for redo’ in the margins.
She discarded his paper into its own pile before moving on to the next. Hanna-Noel Peirson. There was nothing entirely interesting about the girl, and for once, Melissa was grateful for it. Hanna usually sat in the back of class and followed instructions without complaint. More often than not, Hanna’s name never left Melissa’s mouth. Her eyes ran over the sheets on the sheet and laid it with Gavin’s.
Before she even looked at the next paper, she knew who’s test awaited her next.
Jada McKenna’s name was printed in purple colored pencil, the ‘J’ looped in a poor attempt of cursive writing. A small smile tugged at the corner of Melissa’s mouth. Jada was one of her favorite students. She came in every morning with a twinkle in her eye and awe in her voice. It was a rare sight to see kids excited about learning anymore. Just this morning, she’d practically grilled Melissa about what she was going to teach their class and when she was going to do it.
In all truth, she sort of reminded Melissa of, well, Melissa.
There was only one incorrect problem on the entire paper. Melissa wrote a big ‘90%’ across the top and was about to put it aside when she noticed a drawing at the bottom.
In the same purple colored pencil, Jada had drawn a small house in the corner of the paper. The windows were crossed out with scribbled x’s and there was a chunk missing from the triangle roof. Next to the house, two stick figures held hands with smiles on their faces.
Melissa’s chest filled with warmth. She grabbed her phone from her purse on the floor and navigated toward the camera app. Steadying the lens over Jada’s test, she snapped a quick picture of the drawing and sent it off to Barbara.
Melissa Schemmenti
Jada McKenna drew this today.
Barbara Howard
Adorable! Does she live in a haunted house?
Her eyebrows furrowed as she stared at the message. Does she live in a haunted house? Melissa glanced back at the paper, her eyes catching on the windows again.
“Huh,” Melissa mumbled, her glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose. “Maybe she does live in a haunted house.”
Children are odd.
Melissa Schemmenti
Hope not! Lol
Sighing, she put the test in the graded pile and scooped up the rest of the ungraded ones into her hands. Like every other night this week, Melissa had to bring work home.
There just simply wasn’t enough time in the day.
*** *** *** *** ***
The car hummed to life as Melissa turned the key, the AC immediately blasting in her face. It smelled faintly of cigarettes, though she’d kicked the habit years ago. A tired hum fell from her lips as she leaned back in the driver’s seat, head pressed against the cushion.
“What a fuckin day,” she muttered to herself. She closed her eyes and inhaled slowly, holding it there until her lungs burned. She exhaled, blowing away the stress of the day in one breath.
She stayed in that position for a little longer, breathing in and out until a knock came at her window.
“Melissa,” Ava called from outside. “Girl, are you drinking?”
She rolled down the window. “No, Ava, I’m not drinking. I’m relaxing.” Her eyes locked in on a figure behind Ava. “What do you want?”
“Shoot, if you were, I wouldn’t have told anybody,” Ava laughed. Her cackling died off and she calmed down, gesturing behind her. “You need to take care of this. Momma’s got an Instagram Live to get to and she won’t agree to hold the phone, so.”
Jada McKenna shuffled out from behind her, her Hello Kitty shirt crumpled and covered in paint stains. She gripped a Gatorade between her hands, the fruit punch flavor halfway drained. She smiled up at Melissa. “Hi, Ms. Schemmenti.”
Melissa glanced between them. “Ava, you’re the principal. You’re supposed to take care of— whatever this is.”
She scoffed. “I’m off the clock.”
“So am I.”
“Yeah, but you care about children or whatever. Plus, this one likes you.”
“Ms. Schemmenti, when am I going home?”
Melissa’s eyes softened as she looked at Jada. She huffed. “Where’s her mom?”
Ava smirked. “Don’t know. She’s usually here at pick-up.” She smiled down at Jada, resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I think Ms. Schemmenti’s gonna help you out, okay?”
“Wait, Ava—”
“Alright, thanks Mel! You’re a team player!”
The principal speed-walked across the parking lot, her footsteps echoing off the pavement. Melissa sighed frustratedly as she watched Ava swing open the door to the building. “Coward,” she mumbled.
“Why’s Principal Coleman a coward?”
Right. The kid.
“Um, sweetheart,” Melissa said, sweetening her voice, “where’s your Mommy?”
“I don’t know.”
“Right. How do we get a hold of her?”
“I don’t know.”
“O-kay. What do you know, babe?”
“I don’t know.”
“Expected as much. Why don’t you hop in the back, kiddo? It’s pretty hot out there.”
Jada opened the door and slid in the backseat. Her hands were folded on her lap, her fingers wringing together in anxiety. Her eyes darted around as she took in the state of Melissa’s car.
“I know it’s messy,” Melissa mumbled, adjusting the rear view mirror to see Jada. “You can move that coat on the floor.”
Jada hummed. “My Mommy’s car is full of paint.”
“Oh, yeah? That sounds neat,” Melissa replied. She thought for a second before adding, “Sweetie, I want to get you home. Do you know where you live?”
“Mommy says it’s not our house, so we don’t live there. We’re just staying there until someone buys it.”
Melissa thought back to the scribbled picture on Jada’s test. She pulled out her phone and went to Google. “Alright, kid. I got an idea…”
Twenty minutes later, Melissa pulled into a long driveway covered by trees. Gravel crunched underneath the tires as she looked around cautiously, anger settling in deeper and deeper.
She couldn’t wait to see the look on the mother’s face when she pulled up with Jada in the back. She’d probably have to order takeout instead of cooking tonight, and for that alone, there’d be hell to pay.
“You sure this is the right place?” Melissa asked as the trees started to thin. They came up on a medium-sized house with a beat up car sitting halfway out of the garage.
“Yep!”
Melissa stopped the car and put it in park. She unbuckled her seatbelt quickly before opening the door. “What the hell,” she muttered, stepping out into the property. Tools covered the ground, hammers, drills, and a collection of screwdrivers strewn about as if they’d been thrown. There was a bunch of old carpet hanging off the rail of the porch, some fallen onto the grass below. Melissa briefly thought of taking Jada home with her before she was interrupted by the sound of a crash and loud cursing.
“Mother fucking fuck.”
A short woman stepped out of the garage, her hair frizzy and clothes covered in white paint. She wore one earbud in and the other dangled at her chest. She wiped her hands on the fabric of her jeans, more cuss words stringing from her mouth. “God fuckin damn that— that thing.”
“Mommy!”
Her eyes shot up, face draining of color as Jada barreled out of the car. She ran over and hugged her leg, pressing her face into her mother’s body.
“Jada? What—” she stammered, “It’s only 12, how did…”
She finally locked onto Melissa, who stood at the hood of her car. “You Y/N?”
“Ms. Schemmenti, I—”
“It’s 5:30, Mrs. McKenna,” Melissa seethed, glancing at Jada. She crossed her arms angrily over her chest. “School’s over at 3:25. She waited in the parking lot for over an hour. Good thing I was still workin, otherwise she’d a been left there by herself.”
Y/N’s face fell. “Ms. Schemmenti, I—”
“Save it. I don’t wanna hear your excuses.” Melissa's chest heaved as she got angrier, her accent growing thick. “We have a bus route at Abbott, you coulda just called.”
It was quiet for a moment before Jada’s small voice whined, “Mommy, I’m hungry.”
Y/N flinched. “I— I know, baby. Why don’t you wait inside while I talk to Ms. Schemmenti? I’m sorry honey, you can have whatever you want from McDonald’s tonight, okay?”
Jada giggled excitedly and ran inside through the garage. When they were alone, Y/N stepped closer. “Melissa, I am so sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am, really.”
She scoffed. “You should be.”
“I just… I just got so caught up in this damn thing just keeps coming off and tape won’t fix it—” she took a deep breath in, steadying herself. “I lost track of time. As you can see, I’m not… I’m not the most organized person.”
The warmth in Melissa’s cheeks started to cool. It was clearly an accident, that much was obvious. It still wasn’t excusable, but Melissa found herself unable to stay angry. “Just— don’t do it again. What was so…frustrating that you forgot to pick her up?”
“Honestly?” A red blush peeked from behind the collar of Y/N’s shirt. She looked away, eyes flicking toward the carpet on the grass. She sighed, “Everything’s going wrong today. It’s not right, I know, but I was trying to… to peel up the epoxy on the garage floor and the handle of the scraper kept coming off.”
Melissa deflated. This woman was tired, not neglectful. “Mrs. McKenna—”
“It’s— sorry, it’s Y/LN. Not McKenna,” Y/N interrupted. She chuckled awkwardly, rocking on her heels. “Mr. McKenna isn’t in the picture. I’m not married.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I just assumed—”
“No, no, I should be sorry.” Y/N removed the earbud from her ear and tucked it into her shirt. “Thank you for dropping Jada off. I… she— she really looks up to you.”
It was Melissa’s turn to blush. “Well, she’s a…she’s a good kid, you know?” She scratched the back of her neck. “Listen, I, uh… I’m sorry I kinda went off on ya. I’ve just had a long day.”
“No, I deserved it.”
“Well, maybe.” They both laughed. “But still. It was rude of me. Let me make it up to ya tomorrow. Meet me for coffee before school.”
She didn’t know where it came from, but Melissa said it before she could really think about it. Coffee? What was she even thinking—
“Only if you let me pay. I owe you.”
Melissa looked up, surprised. “No, I’m buyin, I yelled at you for like ten minutes—”
“Please, you brought Jada home,” Y/N said, her voice a little softer. “I want to buy you a coffee.”
“Okay,” Melissa nodded. “You can buy me a coffee, then.”
“First and foremost I’m writing for myself,” I hiss through my teeth, resisting the urge to refresh my email for an Ao3 message for the 100th time.
Firsts and Furniture
Part 1 of 4: Sweet Caroline
Pairing: Ava x reader
Summary: After moving to Philadelphia from North Carolina, Y/N catches the attention of longtime Philly resident Ava Coleman.
Warnings: None
Word Count: 1.2k
*** *** *** *** ***
The car came to a stop in front of a large brick building. Y/N gripped the steering wheel as she craned her neck to look out the passenger window at it. It was bigger than she remembered— rows and rows of windows lined it all the way to the top, some with window boxes full of bright flowers.
A small grimace tugged at the corner of her lips. It was bigger than she remembered and her luggage needed to be taken to the top floor.
Of course, Y/N had to pick the one building in Philadelphia that didn’t have a working elevator.
With a heavy sigh, she pulled the key from ignition and heaved herself out of the seat. The cool autumn breeze blew past her face as she stepped outside, air brushing through her hair and clothes. She opened the backseat and hauled her suitcases out, setting them next to her feet as she struggled with the rest.
“You new around here?” A voice called from her left.
Y/N spun her head. The voice belonged to a woman. She stood a few feet away from the bumper of Y/N’s car, sunlight filtering through her long hair and onto her brown skin. An expectant smile played on her mouth as her eyes raked down Y/N’s smaller frame. She cleared her throat. “You look new.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Y/N retorted, her voice coming out quieter than she anticipated. A warm blush spread across her face as she resumed unpacking the back seat.
The woman’s laugh was light. “It’s not supposed to mean anything. Are you new or not?”
“Yeah, first day here,” Y/N mumbled. She added a second later, “Coming in from North Carolina.”
“Sweet Caroline,” the woman laughed again. “You have that fish out of water look.”
Y/N tugged another bag from the backseat and set it carefully in the pile on the ground. She threw an annoyed glance at the woman. “I’m sorry, I really have to get these upstairs.”
It was a dismissal, and maybe a bitchy one, but the woman didn’t take it that way.
“You need some help?”
Annoyance hardened Y/N’s jaw. “I don’t even know you.”
“I see how it is,” the woman said as she stepped closer. “You don’t have to worry about me, I can see when I’m not wanted.” She smirked. “But let me tell you this—” her voice dropped into a teasing tone, “those stairs are pretty steep, Caroline. And there are lots of them.”
She turned to walk toward the building, her footsteps clicking on the sidewalk. “Oh, one more thing— did you get your key yet?”
Y/N rolled her eyes. “She’s supposed to meet me here.”
“What time?”
What time? What…time.
“Why didn’t you just tell me?” Y/N asked as she shut the car door. She cursed herself as she watched the woman saunter back over, this time directly in front of Y/N.
“What’s the fun in that?” The woman fished in the pocket of her jeans and pulled out a set of bronze keys. “Ava Coleman. And you must be—”
“Y/N. You’re my new neighbor.”
Ava smiled. “Surprised?”
“A little.”
“Good.” Ava dangled the keys between her fingers as she waited for Y/N to grab them. Her brown eyes drifted to the pile of stuff at Y/N’s feet. Her head tilted to the side. “Can I help you take these up? I have to show you the door trick anyway.”
Y/N stood for a moment, eyes catching on the dimple in Ava’s cheek. “Uh—sure,” she mumbled, meeting Ava’s eyes again. “Yeah, sure. Thanks.”
*** *** *** *** ***
“Damn girl, you carrying around a bag of rocks?”
Y/N and Ava slumped against the wall in her new apartment. It was surprisingly bare— not that she was expecting it to be furnished. When she signed the lease, she pictured something more… city like. Maybe a brick accent wall or two, maybe an open floor plan of sorts. This apartment wasn’t any of that.
“No,” Y/N snorted, leaning her head against the wall. “It’s mostly my work stuff.”
Ava shifted next to her. “What do you do for work?”
“Lots of things, really,” Y/N mumbled. She played with the frayed corner of her shirt as she looked around the room. “It’s sort of just whatever I feel like doing. Right now I’m writing music.”
“So you’re a musician?”
“No, more of an artist, I guess. I just… take gigs as they come? If that makes sense.”
“I get it, I get it.” Ava stayed silent for a moment before her voice broke out again, “I’m a principal.”
A light laugh bubbled from Y/N’s lips before she could stop it. “No you’re not.” Y/N angled her body toward Ava when she didn’t laugh. “No, you— you’re not joking?”
“Nope,” Ava popped the P, her voice trailing off. “I know, I don’t look the part.”
“No! It’s not that,” Y/N laughed. She brought her hand to Ava’s knee, squeezing her reassuringly. “I just thought principals were like… older.”
Ava’s eyes darted to Y/N’s hand. “How old do I look then, Caroline?”
A wave of embarrassment flushed over Y/N as she snatched her hand back. She pushed herself against the wall again, looking away from Ava’s teasing face. “I don’t know,” she mumbled shyly, “35?”
“I wish,” Ava mused. “I’m 43.”
Y/N gasped. “You’re 43?”
“Yep. Born in the 80s.”
“That’s—that’s a little surprising.” Y/N hoisted herself up from the floor and made her way over to the counter separating the living room from the kitchen. She grabbed her suitcase and set it on top, unzipping it quickly. It was filled to the brim with her work stuff— her laptop and MIDI keyboard directly on top.
“Okay, ouch.” Y/N could hear Ava shift her weight against the wall. “How old are you then?”
Y/N pulled her equipment from the bag before pulling it shut again. She hesitated for a moment, her breath catching. “24.”
“That explains a few things.”
“Explains what?”
Ava laughed, getting up to walk toward the front door. “You have no furniture.”
Y/N’s face blushed in embarrassment. “I just moved.”
“Most people have furniture when they move to a new place, Caroline,” Ava joked, tugging at the door handle. The draft from the hall hit Y/N’s ankles as Ava opened it.
“I had furniture at my old place.”
Ava raised her eyebrow knowingly. “Where is it?”
Y/N didn’t answer.
“Look,” Ava mumbled as she abandoned the door to step closer. She stopped at an arm’s length away, the smell of her floral perfume hitting Y/N’s nose. “I can show you around Philly. There’s a little sandwich shop around the corner, we can grab lunch or something.” The corner of her eyes crinkled as she spoke, a smile slowly growing on her lips. “Maybe I can take you to a furniture store after.”
Y/N’s heart thumped nervously against her chest. She stuttered, “O-oh, just like, buying furniture? Together?”
Ava flashed her a bright smile. “We’ll grab lunch and hit a couple of furniture stores, yeah.”
“So… like a—“
“A date, Y/N. Want to?”
“Um…” Y/N looked up at Ava, the answer sitting on the tip of her tongue. She didn’t really have time for anything serious, but she didn’t know her way around the city, either.
It helped that Ava was annoyingly cute, too.
“I would love that, actually.”
Death and Taxes
Pairing: Melissa x reader
Summary: You finally tell your girlfriend your biggest secret– you're a vampire. Of course, Melissa has a few questions.
Warnings: Slight crack
Word Count: 2.1k
*** *** *** *** ***
“I want to tell you something but you need to promise not to freak out.”
Melisa sits across from you in your apartment. Her arms are crossed over her chest as a guarded expression passes over her face. She leans back on the couch, pressing her tongue against the side of her cheek.
“I ain’t got all day, hon.”
“Melissa.”
“Alright, yeesh. You got your promise.” Her voice is thick with her Philadelphia accent and it only grows more exaggerated as the conversation continues. “But I gotta tell ya, I don’t exactly feel confident in whatever you’re about to tell me.”
You take a deep breath. Is this it? Are you going to tell her? Five long months of making sure you trust her all leading up to this moment. You brush your hands on the fabric of your jeans.
“Melissa,” you mumble, feeling sick. “I’m.. a vampire.”
Melissa blinks.
And she blinks again.
“Hon, I don’t know if I heard you right,” she drifts off into a sort of laugh, unfolding her arms to sit up straighter.
“I’m a vampire, Melissa.”
“Like with the teeth and stuff?”
“Well, yes, but we prefer the term fangs.”
“What about garlic? I practically am garlic,” she mumbles into her hands. You can tell she’s still deciding if you’re crazy or not, so you let her continue to grill you.
“Mirrors?”
“That’s a myth.”
“Wooden stake a myth too, then?”
“Oh, no, that’s very much real.”
You watch as Melissa’s brows furrow and her posture becomes rigid. If you know anything about her (and you know everything about her), she’s running through every possibility. You can see it in her face as questions spill from her mouth.
After asking about your aversion to sunlight, she laughs. Really laughs. She throws her head back against the couch and claps her hands, her stomach shaking as you just watch her.
“Did Barb tell you how much I like Halloween?” she asks, looking around. There are tears brimming at the corner of her eyes from laughter, and you feel your undead heart squeeze for a moment.
“Melissa,” you say as you reach for her hand over the coffee table. “Honey. I’m a vampire.”
“You’re lyin.”
You shake your head softly. “No, babe. Think about it, Mel.”
“Okay, fine.” Her lips curl in an amused smirk and kisses the back of your hand, lingering for a second too long. “Oh, oh. I see what you’re trying to do. Bad girl. I bet you wanna… suck me, or somethin.”
“Melissa Schemmenti.” You pinch the bridge of your nose with your free hand. This woman, so beautifully stubborn. You’re going to have to show her, aren’t you?
You stand up slowly from your seat on the couch.
“I don’t want to do this.” You kick your tennis shoes into a heap next to your feet and shake your arms out. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
You close your eyes shut, counting down from five in your head. Your lips mouth the numbers as you imagine your body shrinking smaller and smaller until you get down to one.
“What. The. Fuck.” you hear when you explode into a small bat. Melissa’s jaw is hung open as she stares at your flapping wings in shock. You fly over to her, sitting yourself on the coffee table.
“Believe me yet?” you say, talking through her mind. She startles when she hears your voice, pressing herself into the couch and as far away from you as possible.
She stutters, “A-are you gonna… eat me, then?”
“I’ve already eaten you,” you flirt teasingly. “But no, I’m not going to eat you like that. That’s not how it works, anyway.”
“Y/N,” Melissa mumbles, eyes wide as your wing twitches. “There’s no way. There is no way.”
“I know it sounds impossible,” you start, hoisting yourself up from the coffee table to land on the arm of the couch. “But it is very possible.”
“You’re a vampire.”
“Yes.”
“You turn into a… freakin’ bat.” She adds in a quieter, whispered voice, “My girlfriend’s a small freakin’ bat.”
“Okay, small is actually kind of offensive—"
“Oh my god, am I Bella? You’ve made me into Bella,”
“Honey, you’re Melissa. You’re not Bella,” you try to comfort. “I’m certainly not Edward.”
“How old are you?”
There it is. The question you’ve been dreading. The one you don’t know how to answer. You try to think of a quick lie, but decide against it. What’s the point in lying now?
“Okay,” you mumble, trying to gauge her reaction. “I’m 147 years old.”
“So, I’m not the milf?”
“Well, no, you’re still a milf. I’m more of a… a vilf.”
“Vilf. Huh. What do you.. eat then?”
“It’s hard to explain.” You have the urge to hold her hand, so you take a few seconds to explode back into your human body. It’s a shock to Melissa, but, from what you can hear, her heart rate slows back to a normal pace after a moment. “Basically, I don’t eat. I drink blood. That’s why I work at the hospital.”
She gasps, “Killer freakin’ nurse. Oh hell no.”
“No, no!” you hush her, squeezing her hand a couple of times to calm her down. “Blood bags, Mel. I don’t drink from people without consent. It’s… kind of weird to do it with just anyone, anyway.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s a little sexual,” you confess.
“Hold on—so, you do wanna suck me?” She’s watching you curiously, as if she were reevaluating everything she knew about you. You couldn’t blame her, but the question still brings a hot blush across your face.
“That’s not what I said.”
She looks taken aback. “Well why not? I’m not good enough for suckin?”
“Melissa. Do I really need to say it?”
She nods stubbornly.
You sigh. “Okay, fine. I want to— suck you.”
It’s Melissa’s turn to blush. And when she does, you can smell it in the air like fresh flowers. It makes your mouth water and your pupils dilate, but you hold yourself back.
“How is it sexual?”
“It’s like… pleasurable, for both people,” you explain, wringing your hands together. You can’t meet her gaze, so you avert your eyes to a framed photo of you two on your wall. “When we drink from mates, it’s supposed to be like, instant euphoria. Like it makes us feel human again, supposedly. And for you, I’ve been told it would feel similar to like, uh, an orgasm or something. I don’t know.”
You know you’re getting flustered because Melissa’s smirk gets wider. “Wanna try it?” she asks, confidence coming back full force.
Your mouth gets dry. “Well, hold on. There’s more to it than that.”
“So, tell me. I want to know.”
“If we were to ever… do that,” you start, tugging at the collar of your shirt. “We would be… bound by nature. It’s kind of like vampire marriage, I guess, but more intense. You wouldn’t ever be able to divorce me.”
“You don’t want to vampire marry me?”
“Of course I do.” You move over to the couch she’s sitting on and pull her close, shuddering as her warm breath hits the side of your neck. You rub her arm affectionately and mumble into her hair, “If I didn’t want to marry you, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. I just don’t know if you’re ready for all that.”
She pulls back to look you in the eyes. “Y/N, I’ve never been more sure about anyone in my entire life. Even after I find out that you’re a vampire, I still… I still love ya.”
“And I love you, baby.” You kiss the tip of her nose, smiling as the corner of her eyes crinkle. “But if we were to ever do that, you would need to understand that you’ll stop aging. You wouldn’t be a vampire, but as long as I choose to live, you’ll live. It can be a very lonely life.”
“Why can’t I be a vampire?”
“It’s not like the movies, Mel,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. “We can’t turn people into vampires. You’re either born one, or you aren’t.”
She thinks for a moment. “Why me?”
It catches you off guard. You think of a million different reasons in your mind, all beautiful little things you adore about her. As you try to wrack your mind for an answer that could possibly measure up to how you feel about her, she corrects herself.
“I mean, why a human. Why’d you pick me and not some other… sexy vampire girl?”
“Oh! You’re a dork,” you laugh. She stares at you with an annoyed expression, tapping her finger impatiently on your hand. “Sorry, sorry.” You catch your breath before clarifying, “Vampires don’t mate with vampires. We get one human. It’s like… your blood was made for me, and my venom for you.”
“Isn’t that kind of… homophobic?”
“Well, no. We can have…relationships with other vampires,” you tell her. “It just isn’t the same as a mating bond, though.”
“So it’s… vomophobic.”
“Mel.”
“Sorry, jeez. You’re so intense, bambina.” She kisses your cheek and rubs the back of your hand with her thumb. “My intense vampire girlfriend. I feel like I’m in a dream.”
“I do, too.”
It’s quiet for a second before Melissa breaks the silence with another question. “So if you suck me and I let ya, will I have to pay taxes?”
“Melissa, I love you, but stop saying suck,” you plead her, mortified. She chuckles softly and squeezes your hand. “And what does us being possibly bonded have anything to do with you paying taxes? I’m not the government, Mel, I can’t relieve you of societal responsibility.”
“So you can turn into a bat but can’t erase fricken taxes. Lame.”
You listen to her go off into a rant about property taxes and for a while, you even forget what the original conversation was about. You nod along as she waves her hands around in anger, her voice getting louder as she tells you she’s being ripped off.
Almost a half hour goes by before she’s finished.
“And basically, that’s why I think you should get regular married to me.”
Wait. You missed that entire bit. You sit up a little straighter and scold yourself for not fully listening. If you were being totally honest, you zoned out after five minutes.
“What?”
“We should get married,” she tells you again. “Before we get vampire married. For tax reasons.” She adds a second later, “At least give me that, if you can’t abolish my freakin’ taxes, Y/N.”
“Are you asking… right now, or in the future?”
“Does it matter?”
“Melissa.”
She huffs and angles her body toward you. “I had this whole speech planned, but ya had to go and tell me all this.” Her voice grows softer— sweeter, even. “I know it’s only been five months, but you gotta understand that these have been the best damn five months of my life.”
Melissa reaches for her purse on the coffee table and sifts around in it for a second, cursing under her breath as the sound of crinkling receipts grows loud. She pulls out a small wooden box and holds it in front of you.
“Y/N,” she says, taking your hand again. “I may be a… a human, but I am a human who loves you. At first, when you started telling me all this stuff, I thought you were crazy. Still think you are a little, but then I thought: ya know what, I don’t even care.” She wipes a fallen tear from your cheek, smiling softly at you. “Because I just love you. If there was any defining moment in my life, it would be meeting you.”
She flips the top of the box open, revealing the most beautiful ring you’ve ever seen. “Y/N, will you please marry me?”
You launch forward and give her the most bone crushing hug you can muster. “Yes, yes, yes!” You pepper her face with kisses as she slips the ring on your finger, elated as her giggles fill the room.
Once it quiets down a little, she presses a firm kiss to your lips and leans her head against yours.
“You know,” she muses as she plays with the ring on your finger, “before we get human and vampire married, I have to meet your parents.”
Oh.
Hell.
No.
“Vampires don’t… have parents?” It comes out like a question and she catches on immediately.
“You literally told me about your mom last week, dummy. They can’t be that bad!”
“No, I didn’t, and you know what? I think I might just have to do some research about taking care of those taxes for you, baby.” You plant a quick kiss on her lips and dart outside.
A few moments later, Melissa mumbles, “You left your own freakin’ apartment. What a weirdo.”
Ten Hearts
Pairing: Melissa x reader
Summary: You introduce Melissa to Stardew Valley
Warnings: None
Word Count: 4k
*** *** *** *** ***
“Hey, Kid,” Melissa greets you as you stroll through the teacher’s lounge. You swiftly open the fridge and toss your lunch bag inside, not caring where it lands. Melissa lets out an amused snort before asking, “We still on for tonight?”
Tonight? Oh, tonight.
She’s staring at you with those big, green eyes and you know you’re blushing hard—too hard, because a wide grin spreads across her face.
“Of course, Mel,” You mumble, fiddling with the zipper of your fleece jacket. “Unless you wanted to cancel, or something?” You ask, failing at hiding the disappointment in your face. She must be able to tell because she beckons you forth with a manicured finger.
“Sit,” she says, kicking out the chair next to her with her foot. “And no, Y/N. I was askin’ cause I was gonna make you dinner.”
“Oh, shit!” You hear Ava before you see her. She strolls in, Janine in tow. She throws her head over shoulder to look at her. “Make sure you get this for my live show.”
“Now, hold on,” Melissa starts, her previous lighthearted voice turned rough as Ava’s cackles get louder. “Janine, you better not be getting nothin’ and what live show?”
Ava ignores Melissa’s questioning momentarily. “You getting this?” Janine mumbles an incoherent response, awkwardly thrusting an iPhone from her chest. Ava rolls her eyes and returns her smile to look at Melissa. “My live show, Red. I had to hire Thumpy over here to get my good angles.”
“Um, Ava, sorry to interrupt,” Thumpy—Janine laughs, her voice trailing off into a joking tone. “You don’t pay me.”
“Well now you’re definitely not getting paid. What did I tell you about interrupting?”
“Alright, alright,” Melissa groans. “Forget I asked. Just leave us in peace.”
Your heart flutters for a moment when Melissa says the word ‘us.’ It’s pathetic how easily she can give you butterflies. If anything, it’s just further proof of how you feel for her. You sigh at the thought but Melissa thinks you're agreeing with her, so she nods her head.
“Fine, I’ll leave you two alone for now,” Ava mutters, directing Janine to point the camera at you two. “But for the record,” She says to the camera, “I got twenty that says they end up together by the end of the week. Who’s going in on this?”
End up together by the end of the week. The words echo around in your mind, the thought of you and Melissa ever “ending up” together causing warmth to blossom in your stomach. It’s a frequent daydream of yours, but for a moment, it’s real.
“Ava Coleman, are you gambling online again?” Your second favorite coworker, Barbara, says when walks in on the conversation.
“No, Mrs. Howard,” Ava dismisses, trying to shoo Janine away at the veteran teacher’s arrival. “Just a joke between me and my fans, you know.”
With that, Ava and Janine are gone. You can still hear Ava as she directs Janine around the school. Melissa clears her throat loudly, drawing you from your thoughts.
“Anyway, hon, I was thinkin’ I can just pick you up from your place?”
You nod, a light blush rising to your cheeks. “Yes, that’s fine.”
Barbara pours herself a cup of coffee and sits down with you two, glancing up at the clock on the wall. You almost forgot you only have a few more minutes with Mel before classes start for the day, so you appreciate the subtle reminder.
“Do you two have plans this afternoon?” Barbara asks, blowing on her coffee.
You’re about to answer, but Melissa beats you to the punch. “Y/N’s gonna show me how to set up my new gaming system, or whatever.”
Barbara’s eyebrows raise, the corner of her lips turning in a knowing smirk. “You bought a gaming console, Melissa?”
Now it’s Melissa’s turn to blush. “Yes, Barb. I love video games.”
Your eyebrows furrow. You didn’t know she loved gaming. You sort of just assumed that she was interested in them, not that she loved them. Had you not been paying attention this whole time?
“Forgive me, dear. I forgot how much you absolutely love them,” Barbara says it like an inside joke, her voice dripping with implication.
Before Melissa can respond, the bell rings loudly and all of three of you stand from the table, chairs squealing on the linoleum floor.
“It was nice chatting with you ladies,” Barbara says, picking up her mug. She gives you a warm smile and Mel a familiar one. “I hope you both have a wonderful and blessed morning.”
She turns toward the door and three becomes two, once again.
“Does 6 work for you, hon?” Melissa asks you as you slowly walk toward the door, trying to delay leaving her by dragging your feet.
“Yeah, Mel, sounds great,” you pause before saying, “Should I bring anything?”
She smiles softly. “Just yourself. I’ll see you later, kid.”
She plants a kiss on your cheek as she passes you on her way to her classroom. It’s something new she’s been doing, you noticed. And it’s only been with you. It makes you feel giddy and special, but you act like it doesn’t phase you at all.
You push the butterflies in your stomach down as you try not to think about Melissa’s lips. She is your friend, maybe even your best friend, but your heart seems to think otherwise. You tell yourself that she’ll give you a kiss on the cheek later, too, if you set up her console without issue.
One can only hope.
*** *** *** *** ***
Your day goes by in a blur. It was an easier Friday— the kids were calm, everyone did their classwork, and dismissal went by without any real issue. You’d even managed to avoid Ava all day, which in turn, meant you didn’t talk to Janine much but you didn’t mind. You were too busy thinking about Melissa, as you normally were these days.
You get home quickly, the 15 minute drive from Abbott to your apartment short and sweet. You immediately go to your closet and begin to fret over outfits. It's stupid, you know it is, but you want Melissa to think you dress nice outside of school.
Eventually, you land on a pair of jeans that hug your waist just right and an oversized green sweater. You’ll throw on a pair of old Converse later, but for now, you wait for Mel to pick you up.
You think about the inside of her house while you wait. You’ve been there before, probably more than Barbara at this point, but you still feel nervous. You know you’ll end up eating dinner with her, as you always do when you visit, and it brings you momentary comfort.
A knock sounds at your door a few minutes later and you know it’s her.
“Hey, hon,” Melissa greets you when you swing the door open, planting another kiss on the side of your face. She runs her eyes over you for a second, smiling brightly. “You look cute. Ready to go?”
“Hey, Mel. Let me get my shoes,” You say.
It isn’t a long drive from your apartment to her house. The entire drive, you and Melissa talk. It starts off about school, then complaints about Ava, and into more personal things like weekend plans or family. Melissa even offers to accompany you on your ritual Sunday trip to the grocery store, and you tell her you might take her up on it.
She guides you into the house with the palm of her hand pressed to your lower back. It sends shivers of delight down your spine, and immediately you feel like your knees might buckle. “Make yourself at home, you know where everything is,” she says when you step through the front door. She kicks her shoes off in the hallway and you do the same, following her into the living room.
“Can I get you anything to drink? Or a snack?”
“Oh, water’s fine,” You reply, going to sit on the edge of the couch. Melissa shoots you a pointed look, a lock of red hair falling in front of her face. She chuckles when you can’t meet her eyes and disappears into the kitchen, a series of muttered curses and clatters filling the moments after. She returns to you quickly with a glass of wine in one hand and a can of Sprite in the other.
Sprite. Your favorite soda. Did she buy this just for you?
“Oh, Mel, you don’t have to,” You say as you take the can from her hands, blushing as your fingers brush past each other. She sits next to you in the couch, angled toward you.
“Yeah, yeah. I know you like ‘em… so,” she trails off, her face reddening in a blush of her own.
“Well… thank you. You’re sweet.” In a moment of boldness, you lean over and quickly kiss her cheek as she’d done to you so many times. Your lips meet her soft skin, and for a brief moment, you can smell the citrus scent of her shampoo.
Melissa smiles brightly when you pull away, a small hum falling from her mouth. She clears her throat, taking a sip of her red wine. “So, um,” she mumbles from under the lip of the glass. “I got this, Playing Station, or whatever.”
Before you can help it, you snort. “PlayStation, Melissa.”
“Tomato, tomahto,” she says, playfully rolling her eyes. She points toward the large TV across from you. It sits on a wood entertainment center, taking up most of the space on the surface. There are shelving compartments underneath, some full with DVDs of old movies or books. There’s a few pictures of her family, some of whom you recognize. The PlayStation sits in its own compartment, cables stacked on top of it neatly.
“Looks like a PS4,” You tell her as you stand up to get it. You slide it from the shelf and hold it in your hands, checking the ports for any damage. “I didn’t know you liked to play games though, Mel.”
“New hobby.”
“Right,” You mumble, kneeling down on the carpet to begin plugging it into the TV. You’ve done it a million times before with your own consoles, so it only takes you a couple of minutes to get it hooked up. “Alright, that should do it,” You say as you brush off your jeans and plot next to her on the couch. She hands you a remote and you turn the TV on, going to the HDMI2 menu option.
“Make sure you go to this one, Mel,” You explain to her as the PlayStation loading screen comes to life on the TV. You grab one of the controllers on the coffee table and begin setting it up for her.
You go through the language menus, account creation, and put in Melissa’s WiFi password. She asks you questions while you work, mostly ‘what’s this?’ Or ‘how’d you do that?’ You jump at any opportunity to talk to her, so you make sure to explain in detail what you’re doing.
You’re halfway finished with your Sprite when the console is ready for use. “So,” You start, taking a sip from the can before returning it to the coffee table. “Do you have a favorite game then?”
Melissa bites her lip, face flushing from the alcohol. “I like that, uh, shooting game or whatever.”
“Of course you would,” You laugh, and you really believe her because that is so very Melissa.
“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” She slaps your arm playfully, mocking hurt. “What do you play?”
You think for a moment. “Lately I’ve been into this one game called Stardew Valley. It’s cute, you should try it.”
“Okay. Put it on there,” She says, completely serious. She’s sitting up straighter now, glass of wine discarded and forgotten. Instead, she focuses on the TV with a gaze you’ve never seen before.
You giggle, “Well, you have to buy it first, Meli.”
Meli. You didn’t mean to, but the nickname slipped from your mouth before you could correct yourself. For the umpteenth time that day, a warm blush crossed over your face.
“Meli, huh? I like it,” she says. She squeezes your knee affectionately as you panic internally. It’s pathetic how the smallest touch could send you into haywire, you think. Melissa nods her head at the TV. “Buy the game, I want to play it.”
And so you do.
Before you know it, you and Melissa are playing together on the couch. She’s slumped next to you, her thigh pressed against yours as you explain the mechanics of the game. She doesn’t understand at first, occasionally muttering curse words under her breath when she runs out of energy on the game. You play for an hour and have a good start to the farm when Melissa begins asking about the NPCs.
“Okay, so who’s the dork with the hair?”
You flick your eyes to her side of the screen and notice she’s talking to one of the bachelors. “That’s Elliot,” You explain as you clear out some debris from your shared farm. Melissa makes a confused noise, so you continue. “He’s a marriage candidate. I mostly don’t bother with him, though.”
“Marriage? I thought this was a game.”
“It is a game Melissa,” You laugh, joysticks clicking as you play the game. “It’s kind of a life sim, I guess. You farm, do stuff around the community, and build relationships with the characters. It’s a cute game.” You feel silly for a second as you explain all of this to Melissa, but when you look over, she looks completely entranced. The embarrassment is short lived and you feel yourself scooting a little closer to her on the couch.
“Who do you get married to then?”
“What do you mean? You get married to the characters.”
“Can I marry you then?”
It’s an innocent question, but it still knocks the air from your lungs. Can I marry you then? You’ve heard her say it many times in your silly little daydreams, but nothing compared to the real thing. If you could even call it the real thing.
You struggle to answer her for a moment. “Well, technically, you can, but I don’t know if that’d be very fun.”
“What? I think you’d be a very fun wife.” She says it in a way that you don’t know if she’s joking or not, so you just settle for an awkward laugh instead. “Re-lax, hon,” Melissa drags, bumping your shoulder with her own. “I’m just kiddin’. Tell me about this marriage stuff now.”
And so you do.
The night is fun and filled with laughter. You stop playing Stardew after another hour so Melissa can make you dinner. She, of course, makes Italian food and insists on sending you home with a huge tupperware container of leftovers. She drives you home and asks you about other games to play and you tell her a few more of your favorites. When you get out of the car, she gives you another kiss on the cheek and promises to get caught up with the game so you can really play the next time you come over.
*** *** *** *** ***
Monday morning comes quickly and you find yourself walking back into school. You didn’t get much sleep the night prior, to your own fault. You were up all night playing drunk Minecraft with your friends and it got a little out of hand after one too many whiskey shots. You ended up falling asleep on your couch and if not for Melissa’s text, you probably would’ve been extremely late to work.
She’d asked about your favorite breakfast food and when you answered, she left you on read. You assumed it wasn’t meant for you and went about your day, bringing you to now.
You unlocked your classroom door and pushed it open with your elbow, flipping on the light as you started your morning routine. Arrange all of the chairs, make copies, and do some lesson planning before the kids arrive. As you go to set your bag down on your desk, you stop in your tracks.
A brown paper bag sits in the middle of your desk with a note stapled to the top. It smells like grease and breakfast, and you immediately know it was Melissa.
In Melissa’s loopy handwriting, the note reads:
I hope it’s good! Have a good day, hon.
Love, Meli.
It makes you swoon, and for a moment you wonder if you’re being pranked. She has to know what she does to you. But then again, maybe not. You go about your morning, completing your routine between bites of your favorite breakfast sandwich.
Tuesday starts out the way it usually does. Nothing particularly exciting, just the same old stuff you do every week. You haven’t really had a lot of time to socialize, so you decide to walk down to the teacher’s lounge during your 45 minute grace period. You should be lesson planning, but you’re a little burnt out from the day.
“Hey, everyone,” you say when you stroll in, opening the fridge to find something to drink. There was usually water or Diet Coke, and sometimes you even stole a bottle of whatever healthy drink Gregory had stashed for the week. The other occupants in the room greet you back as your eyes rake over the refrigerator shelves, landing on a Starbucks drink with your name on it.
“What’s this?” you ask, taking it from the fridge.
“Hm?” Barbara glances toward you from her spot at one of the tables, noticing the drink in your hand. A small smirk graces her lips. “Ah, I believe Melissa picked that up on her way to work this morning.”
You take a sip of it and your eyebrows widen slightly. It’s a caramel macchiato, and you can swear there’s extra caramel in it. Exactly like you order it. You didn’t think you ever told Melissa that, though.
You send Melissa a quick text to thank her. It gives you a little more energy throughout the day and on your drive home, you imagine kissing Mel on the cheek again.
When Melissa shows up to work with a potted Orchid on Wednesday, she accidentally catches Barbara’s attention. She holds her breath as she walks by, praying that she won’t say anything.
But she’s Barbara, so of course she does.
“Melissa dear, a minute, if you can,” she calls in her preaching voice. Groaning, Melissa marches over with the plant tucked carefully in her arms.
“What, Barb?”
She smiles in response, despite Mel’s annoyed tone. “I apologize for taking up your time. I was curious why you’ve brought that,” she points toward the pot, “in with you this morning.”
“Oh, so a girl can’t want a frickin’ flower Barbara?”
“No, Melissa, a girl can want a flower,” Barbara says, her voice dripping in sarcasm, “but you don’t want a flower. I know you. Is it for Ms. Y/LN?”
A rosy blush rises to her cheeks and she realizes she’s been caught. “Yes, it’s for Y/N. It’s her favorite flower.”
“And remind me again why you don’t just ask the poor girl out?”
They are walking toward your classroom now, carrying casual conversation on their way. Melissa replies in a serious voice, “The game told me to do it like this.”
“I’m sorry?”
Melissa sighs, “I’m supposed to bring her favorite stuff, or whatever. Then I’ll get to ten hearts. Fricken’ plant was like 80 bucks, so I think that’s at least like, what, 2 hearts? She’ll get it.”
Barbara raises her eyebrows, coming to a stop at the door of your room. She pats Melissa on the shoulder, leaning in slightly. “Sure she will.”
On Thursday, Melissa brings you a box of new markers for your whiteboard. You’d been begging Ava to put the order and were about to give up and buy them yourself. So, naturally, what does Melissa do?
She brings you every dry erase marker ever made.
“Meli, I don’t even know what to say,” you mumble, blush reddening your cheeks. You glance up at her as you sift through the markers, your hands gliding along the different colors. She smirks at you, her green eyes shimmering mischievously. “Where’d you even get all of these?”
“Oh, I know a guy. No big deal,” she shrugs, hands on her hips. “You like ‘em?”
“I love them.” You stand from your chair and quickly wrap her in a hug, your nose landing in her soft hair. You feel her arms snake around your waist and squeeze. Your heart beats wildly out of your chest, and before you can talk yourself out of it, you give her a lingering kiss on the cheek once more. “Seriously, thank you,” you say as you pull away.
She waves you off, a large smile plastered across her face. She looks beautiful and for a second you wish you could take a picture.
“Anything for you, babe.”
Babe.
Babe.
You’re too caught up in your thoughts that you don’t realize Melissa’s absence. For the rest of the day on Thursday, you glance at the box of markers next to your new Orchid.
The following Friday afternoon, Melissa finds herself in a hushed conversation with Barbara.
“I think it’s working,” she whispers as they watch students play outside. She shoots a glare at a pair of students who start to play too rough and resumes her rambled confessions. “I mean, she hugged me, Barb. I think that was the heart event, you know?”
“You’re going to have to remind me what exactly this heart event entails, my dear.”
Melissa grumbles, “I told you, Barb, the eight heart event. One more event and she’ll marry me.”
Barbara’s eyes almost pop out of her head. She angles herself toward Melissa, placing a concerned hand on her shoulder. “Marriage, Melissa? Isn’t that a little… soon?”
Melissa shakes her stubborn head. “No, she told me. Well, the game told me, but Y/N told me about the game, so.”
Barbara is about to reply, but the bell rings. The kids begin the run inside for dismissal, and Melissa follows. A defeated sigh escapes her lips as she watches her friend usher her students back to the classroom.
*** *** *** *** ***
You and Melissa are walking out to the parking lot when she stops you from getting into your car.
“Wait, Y/N,” she says, hand on your wrist. “I have something for you.”
She reaches in her purse and pulls out a small yellow envelope. Your eyebrows tighten in confusion as you open it, revealing two small pieces of paper. You pull it out and are greeted with tickets to an Eagles game.
“I know you don’t watch football,” Melissa explains as you turn the tickets over in your hand, “but I do. So I thought I could take you to your first game, teach you about it.”
She’s looking at you expectantly and you realize you forgot to answer. You blush, chuckling softly. “This is really sweet of you, Melissa. I would love to go with you.”
“I thought it would be nice,” she says, reaching for your hand. “You taught me about your game, I’ll teach you about mine.”
It’s dreamy and charming, and you imagine kissing her again. It seemed to plague your mind lately, preventing you from thinking about anything else. You settle for gently squeezing her hand and you send her a warm smile. “I’m excited.”
“Okay, so is that ten hearts now?” she asks. She adds in a half-whisper, “or maybe that’s only nine?”
“What, Melissa?”
She takes a deep breath, leaning closer towards you. “Ten hearts and then I can marry you.”
Marriage? Melissa? You?
“What?”
“Y/N,” Melissa says seriously as you stare at her in confusion. “You said I had to get ten hearts to get married or whatever. It’s okay if that was only one heart, but I’ve been keeping track. I should be at like nine, at least. Right?”
Stardew Valley. She’s talking about Stardew Valley. She’s talking about marrying you, heart events, and favorite gifts. Unknowingly, Melissa has been dating you all week and you didn’t bat an eye.
“Melissa.”
“Hm?”
“Kiss me.”
And so she does.
How to Make a Masterlist
Part 1: The Basics
Step 1: Open tumblr on a computer or laptop. It is possible to make a masterlist on a smartphone, but it’s much more difficult and doesn’t turn out as nicely as a masterlist made on a computer.
Step 2: Create a new post using the ‘Text’ option.
Step 3: Title your masterlist.
Step 4: Create a heading. This step is completely optional, but I would recommend this step if you’d like to inform your followers on how often you update.
Part 2: Organizing Your Masterlist
Step 5: If you write for multiple fandoms, I would start by titling each one. This is optional, but I prefer to make these titles bold, italicized, and I select the ‘Header’ option, although this is entirely optional. If you only write for one fandom, skip this step.
Step 6: Separate your writing by style. Once again, this is entirely optional. I find it makes the masterlist much easier to navigate, though. I divide my writing into five sections; blurbs, imagines, smut, series, and miscellaneous. If you write for multiple fandoms, make sure to create these categories individually under each header.
Step 7: List each character who has a post written for them under the proper category.
Step 8: List all your works under the correct category and character.
Part 3: Inserting Links
Step 9: Open a new tab, and scroll to the first writing on your list.
Step 10: Hover over the top right corner of the white box until you see a fold down appear.
Step 11: Right click the gray fold down. If you are using a laptop without a mouse, click with two fingers at the same time. A pop-up list will appear.
Step 12: Select the option ‘Copy Link’.
Step 13: Return to your other tab (the one with the masterlist).
Step 14: Highlight the title of the link you just copied, and click the option that looks like a diagonal infinity sign.
Step 15: A blank box will appear. Paste the link you copied into this box, then select ‘Done’.
Step 16: Repeat steps 9-15 with each writing. This may take a while, but it will make your writings much easier to navigate for both you and your followers!
I hope this helped anyone who was struggling with creating a masterlist. Please, feel free to let me know if you have any questions or need any clarification! I’d be happy to help. :-)
"you already left kudos here"
And??? Let me like it again??? Clearly it deserves more??
Thinking Of You
Pairing: Melissa Schemmenti x Reader
Summary: Scarlett Street, AKA You, make an appearance on a late night talk show to debut your newest single. It’s written about your ex-girlfriend, who is none other than Melissa Schemmenti.
Warnings: None
Word Count: 1.9k
SCARLETT STREET 1/?
*** *** *** *** ***
“Our next guest has been taking over the world with her newest hit single Thinking of You. Please welcome Scarlett Street!”
You’re waiting behind the curtain when the stage manager nudges you with her finger. With a deep breath, you plaster a large smile on your face and step out of the curtain, the sounds of whistling and shouts following you. The band plays a loud beat as you walk over to Nick James, the host of The Latest Show. You sink down into a couch as the crowd dies down and Nick faces you, his teeth shining brightly under the blinding overhead light.
“Wow, Scarlett Street everybody!” He says, drawing another whistle from the crowd. You chuckle softly as Nick crosses his hands over his desk. “Thank you for joining us tonight, Scarlett– can I call you Scarlett?”
“Y/N is fine, Nick.”
“Y/N! Of course. Where did you come up with a name like Scarlett Street?”
Your eyes drift over near the cameras, where your manager stands off to the side. She shoots you an encouraging thumbs up, using her hand to draw a large smile on her face. You force another soft laugh, letting your face fall into a small grin. “Scarlett Street is a metaphor, I guess,” you trail off, internally rolling your eyes as Nick nods along. “Scarlett Street is like the place I go to when I’m thinking, you know? Like, when you get lost in your own thoughts, everyone goes somewhere. Scarlett Street is mine.”
Nick hums, “So, my musician name would be My Bed?” The band makes a buh-dum-crash on the drums, inciting laughter from the audience. You smile at the camera again, your body mirroring what you’d practiced hours prior.
“Exactly.”
“So, Y/N, we know about the inspiration behind Scarlett Street, but what we really want to know is,” he pauses and draws out his words. “What the inspiration behind your newest single is. Can you tell us a little bit more about that?”
A knot forms at the pit of your stomach.
Of course he asked that fucking question.
The audience quiets as you struggle to find an answer. “Thinking Of You is just about, uh, missing someone.” Your manager frowns from her place with the rest of the crew, eyebrows furrowing as Nick leans in closer.
“Oh, come on,” he says, his voice light and joking. “The people want to know! Missing who?”
You sigh, “No one in particular, Nick.” You know your tone must be clipped because he leans back in his chair, hands clasped together. He makes an exaggerated expression at Camera 1 before turning his focus back to you.
“Whaaaat?” He draws, reaching for a stack of cards next to him. He reads them quickly, eyebrows shooting up. “Here! You wrote and I quote, ‘She tastes my lips, I taste your mouth. She pulled me in, I was disgusted with myself.’” He sets the cards down, chuckling as he speaks. “That can’t be about no one in particular.”
A flash of red crosses your mind and you almost shrink into the hard cushion of the chair. You reach for the sleeve of your sweater, pulling it as you think of what to say. Although you’ll get yelled at for it later, you flick your eyes back to your manager. She gestures for you to continue.
“Alright, Thinking Of You is about a relationship I was in before all of this,” You explain, wishing the stage would swallow you whole. “She broke up with me because she was scared she was holding me back. That was a few years ago and I haven’t really gotten over it.” You feel a tear at the corner of your eye and you pray it doesn’t fall. “So I guess Thinking Of You is a sort of love song but it’s more about… grief than anything else.”
An awkward silence hangs over the studio at your confession, and you wish you hadn’t said anything at all. You nervously wipe the palms of your hands on your jeans as Nick scrambles for a response.
“Well, uh,” he hesitates, leaning away from you. “Well we love Thinking Of You here at the Later Show!” He gives the audience an award winning smile, the charismatic mask slipping back over his face. “Stick around for a live performance of Thinking Of You by Scarlett Street herself!”
You return back to your dressing room when they cut to commercials. Tables of untouched food and drinks catch your attention momentarily, your eyes raking over the spread. Piles of cookies, fruit, and candy stack in the corner. You count at least ten bottles of liquor next to it, along with an assortment of sodas and juices. You roll your eyes as you think back to the rider your manager submitted to the studio. Every appearance you made, you only ever requested three things: one Diet Coke, a pack of cigarettes, and a plate of spaghetti and meatballs.
Though the only thing they’d ever managed to get right was the Diet Coke. You weren’t allowed to smoke cigarettes and the spaghetti was never quite right.
You sat down as your team rushed in the room, frantically applying makeup to your face and dressing you in clothes you wouldn’t normally think of wearing. After 20 torturous minutes, you looked like a doll of yourself.
“Ready, Kiddo?” Your manager asks you as you study yourself in the mirror. You shrug casually before wiping off the red lipstick your stylist put on you, smudging it across your face. You’re about to clean it up before your manager stops you. “Don’t,” she says, grabbing your arm to hoist you up. “We don’t have enough time. Gives you a sort of desperate look anyway—good work.”
A few minutes later, you’re standing in the middle of the stage as Nick introduces you to the audience again.
“Everyone give it up for Scarlett Street!” He says into the mic, followed by the roar of the audience.
You count down from three as you think back on her. You regret choosing this song tonight and wish that you prepared something else, but it’s too late to change it now.
“Thanks for having me, Nick,” you say into the mic stationed in front of you. You strum your guitar a couple of times and clear your throat awkwardly. “This one’s called Thinking Of You.”
Comparisons are easily done
Once you’ve had a taste of perfection
Like an apple hanging from a tree
I picked the ripest one
I still got the seed
Your voice rings out, soft and breathy. You sweep your eyes over the crowd, landing on the third row up. A woman with red hair sways to the music, a small smile gracing over her face. For a moment, you imagine her in the woman’s place and you start singing to her. Your voice gets louder as you get more emotional, your strumming getting more intense.
You said move on, where do I go?
I guess second best is all I will know
‘Cause when I’m with him, I am thinking of you
Thinking of you
What would you do if
You were the one who was spending the night
Oh, I wish that I was looking into your eyes
— — — — —
“She’s got such a pretty voice,” Janine says as she sips her morning coffee from a mug. She watches the TV intensely as Scarlett Street breaks out into the chorus, the man behind her beginning to beat on the drums. “Also, can we please talk about the lipstick? Iconic.”
Jacob laughs from his seat next to her on the couch. “Oh my God, I know,” he says, setting his own mug on the coffee table. “It makes the song feel more, I don’t know, like, desperate.”
Scarlett Street finishes the first chorus and quiets down to sing the next verse. She steps away from the microphone to catch her breath and leans back in, her eyes pointed down at the neck of her guitar.
You’re like an Indian summer in the middle of winter
Like a hard candy with a surprise cent—
Ava walks into the teacher’s lounge, loudly announcing her presence. “I know you guys aren’t watching that without me.”
Janine pauses the YouTube video and turns her body to face Ava. She smiles. “I didn’t know you liked Scarlett Street, Ava.”
“Me? Oh, please,” she says as she fiddles with the vending machine. “Scarlett Street makes music for sad baddies. Lord knows I get sad when I talk to you.” Ava laughs at her own joke, her cackle echoing off the walls in the lounge.
“Tell me, Ava dear, what is a ‘sad baddie’?” Barbara asks when she steps in with Melissa.
“Oh, girl you know,” Ava jokes, waving her hands as she makes her way to the couch. “Even a baddie gets sad sometimes.” She crosses her legs and nudges Janine with her elbow. “Play the video, dork.”
“Okay, Ava, you don’t need to be so mean,” Janine mumbles under her breath, reaching for the remote. The video plays again, the music playing into the room.
How do I get better once I’ve had the best?
You said there’s tons of fish in the water
So the waters I will test
Melissa stills next to the coffee machine. Her back is turned away from the TV, but she’d recognize that voice from anywhere. It belonged to you, and Melissa felt like melting into the floor.
She kissed my lips, I taste your mouth
She pulled me in, I was disgusted with myself
“The writing is just so raw,” Jacob voices, his voice light as he watches the performance. “And the interview earlier? Tragic.”
“I know, especially the part about…what’d she say again?” Janine mumbles. “Oh! The part about grief. That was really sad.”
They chatter as Scarlett Street continues to sing, but Melissa can’t bring herself to listen to it. Your voice rings around in her head, the thought of you kissing someone else burned into her mind. She grips the handle of the coffee pot tightly, not noticing Barbara’s concerned glance.
Cause when I’m with him, I am thinking of you
Thinking of you
What would you do if
You were the one who was spending the night
Oh, I wish I was looking into your—
You’re the best
And yes, I do regret
How could I let myself let you go
A small gasp falls from Melissa’s lips as she finally turns around. There you are, looking back at her. She steps closer to get a better look at you, ignoring as her coworkers spare her confused looks.
You are still so beautiful, she thinks to herself. You look skinnier, the baby fat gone from your cheeks. Melissa furrows her brow when she realizes you have makeup covering your freckles and she deflates for a moment. You’re still you, but at the same time, someone else entirely.
She’s not sure which makes her feel worse.
“You okay, Melissa?” Janine asks, concern lacing her voice. The video is paused now, but the damage is done. Melissa nods and backs away, going toward the door.
“Yeah, kid, just realized I left my cup in my room,” she says absentmindedly. “I’ll see youse all at lunch.”
Melissa leaves the room, leaving the other teachers in their own thoughts. Ava clears her throat. “What’s up with Red?” She asks Barbara, who nurses a cup of coffee at the counter.
She sighs. “It’s a long story.”
september was practice… in october I’m getting my shit together
in november I'm getting my shit together
in december I’m getting my shit together
in february I’m getting my shit together
in march I’m getting my shit together
in april I’m getting my shit together
in may I’m getting my shit together
in june I’m getting my shit together
Natasha Romanoff Masterlist
Natasha Romanoff x Reader
One Shots
Ain’t Shit by Doja Cat
All About Us by He is We
Dance With Me
We’ll Be Alright
Christmas Star
Wildest Dreams
North Star
Visiting Hours by Ed Sheeran First Christmas
Boxed In
Series
What Would Humans Be Without Love?
Battle Scars by Paradise Fears
Monet Issues, Reborn, A New Normal, My Beautiful Creation
Reunited, One More
Natasha Romanoff x daughter!reader
One Shots
Leave a light one
Series
Natasha Romanoff x Yelena Belova x Reader
One Shots
Series
Family is More than Blood
Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff
One Shots
Series
The Adventure of Y/n Barton and Yelena Belova
Wandanat x Reader (coming soon)
Series
Chasing Shadows
Wandanat x Daughter!Reader
One Shots
Fly, Birdie, Fly Orange Ribbon
Another Love
Series
Lightning Bug
Family
A Hidden Part of Me, Bloodstain
Maria Hill x Natasha Romanoff
One Shots
Dirty Thoughts
Series
Family is More than Blood
Take My Hand, Domestic Life
Blackhill x daughter!Reader
One Shots
A Christmas Outing Not Enough (Enough to Me)
Mama, I’m Cold
Series
Rescue by Lauren Daigle, Live Bait, Little Red and the Big Bad Wolf
Eyes Closed by Ed Sheeran, Life Goes On by Ed Sheeran
Natasha Romanoff x Bucky Barnes
Series
Second Chance
Melissa Schemmenti Masterlist
my asks are open, feel free to send requests, feedback, or just have something to share <3
Fix-It Felix
Pairing: Janine Teagues x Reader Summary: Janine finds herself in need of saving and falls into the open arms of the Philly’s finest Fire Captain, Y/LN. Warnings: Bad writing, first oneshot. Word Count: 2.1k *** *** *** *** ***
Janine Teagues made mistakes. She made them often, each time increasingly more disastrous, each time extremely, extremely avoidable. Almost so avoidable, as Ava or Melissa would point out, that they could no longer be classified as mistakes.
World-class fuck-ups was a better term.
It was humorous, in a sense, when she really thought about it. Usually, cause and effect for other people worked as it should, but there was something wrong with Janine. Her causes were good. They were honorable– commendable, even. But the effects, my God, were catastrophic.
Cause: fix a broken lightbulb. Effect: the power goes out for the entire building.
Cause: put in a good word for her friend. Effect: Melissa’s books get destroyed.
There was simply no winning. Not for Janine, anyway– which is exactly why she’s freaking out right now.
“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod, what did you do?” Jacob shouts as he barrels into the classroom, nearly crashing into a row of empty desks.
She shoots him a wild look. “I don’t know! I was trying to fix it, but it just did that!”
A chromebook lies across her desk, lid open as thick smoke spills from it. A pungent chemical smell fills the classroom, burning Janine’s nostrils. She stands in the opposite corner of the room, a bead of sweat sliding down the side of her face.
“Why, Janine?” he breathes, darting over to open a window. It slides open with ease, clean air fighting against the smoke.
“I don’t know!” she groans. She opens the other windows and follows Jacob’s lead, waving off smoke clouds. It slowly files out of the room, relief flooding her body. Subconsciously, she glances at the clock on the wall and smirks. “Hey, not a minute before–”
Cause: Janine decides to take matters into her own hands (once again).
Effect: The Chromebook explodes in flames.
If anyone were to ask Janine or Jacob what happened next, they would get conflicting answers. Jacob would claim that he remained calm and collected, the perfect picture of fire safety– Abbott’s very own hero. Janine, between several failed attempts at humor, would claim that nothing happened. If something did happen, she definitely didn’t do it, but they’d better find out who did soon before they did it again. Maybe there was an arsonist running around? No– a student came back for vengeance and lit the Chromebook on fire. No– actually, her students would never do that, don’t look at the cameras, please.
In truth, the reality was much simpler than that.
Janine stares in horror as the fire rapidly spreads from the laptop to loose papers, from loose papers to her swivel chair. The fire alarm goes off soon after, the loud chirp ringing around in her ears. She winces when she hears students screaming from the hallway, tennis shoes squeaking against the floor as they rush outside. “We have to go, Janine,” Jacob says as he strides across the room, making quick time. The flames get bigger and bigger, engulfing the whole desk. He glances between her and the hallway anxiously. “Janine, we have to go now.”
“Just– just go without me!” she shouts, coming out of her daze. She steps closer to the desk, anxiety creeping up her neck. “I’m going to fix this. I’ll be fine,” she says, shooing him away. “Go, Jacob.”
Jacob leaves hesitantly, his voice carrying through the hallway as he ushers kids out. “Quickly and quietly, guys. Walk, don’t run.”
Taking a deep breath, Janine turns back to the desk. “Alright, Janine. You can do this,” she mumbles to herself. “You can do this.”
— — — — —
In all of your time at the Philadelphia Fire Department, you’d seen some stupid shit. And you mean really stupid shit. Someone made a working lightsaber and lit their friend on fire? You’d seen it. A woman got her head stuck in a toilet seat after getting drunk and puking all over herself? It happened at least twice. There’d even been calls that weren’t really calls– there was an old woman that made a false call at least once a week just so she could get rescued by her favorite firefighter.
You’d seen it all, but nothing baffled you as much as Abbott Elementary. Trucks went out there fairly often, none that you’d been on but you’d definitely heard about it. It was a running joke around the station that Abbott needed its very own emergency service hotline. You really didn’t understand the joke until you got to see it first hand.
“Let’s go, crew!” You yell as emergency vehicles swarm the parking lot, catching the eyes of bewildered students and teachers. You hop out of the truck with your gear on, striding over toward a group of adults at the door. “Who’s in charge here?”
Their conversation lulls as you walk over. “That’d be Ava,” a redheaded woman retorts, a snort bubbling from her lips. She nods her head toward a taller woman, making an exasperated face. “You’d have better luck talking to us, kid,” she says, then mutters under her breath, “She probably doesn’t even know there’s a fire.”
The woman playfully slaps her on the arm, shaking her head in mock disappointment. She turns to you. “Forgive her, she had to leave her sandwich in the breakroom. This is Melissa,” she says, her voice confident and commanding. “And I’m Barbara.”
You nod quickly, not really having time to exchange pleasantries. Still, you shoot them a small smile. “Captain Y/LN,” You say. “I apologize ladies, but do either of you know where the fire is?”
Before they can answer, a man bursts out of the door, reeking of smoke. “There’s a fire! What do we do?!” He yells as a group of kids follow after him. He stops next to Melissa, his face fear stricken. “Melissa,” he says, his voice dripping with anxiety, “There’s a fire.”
She throws her arms out. “Yeah, we know Captain-fricken-obvious,” she gestures toward you, annoyance lacing her voice. “Why do you think she’s here?”
Jacob practically jumps when he notices you. “Oh, good,” he says as he claps his hands together. “Janine is still up there,” he tells you. He sees your urging expression and starts to go off into detail. “So, basically, I was walking to the lounge when I was like, ‘you know what? Where's Janine?’ Then I realized I forgot my–”
You cut him off, “Just–” You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Where is the fire?”
“First floor, in the middle of the hallway,” He says quickly, pointing toward the door. “Janine Teagues’ room.”
You nod at him quickly, looking around for one of your firefighters. They are spread through the parking lot and likely won’t hear if you yell for them, so you rush in the building by yourself.
Your boots echo in the hallway, the weight of your gear slamming down against the floor. You try to find the classroom, almost turning back to ask Jacob to guide you when you see smoke spilling from a doorway a little further down the hallway.
“Philly Fire Department,” You yell, your voice carrying in the building. “Call out!”
“In here!” a woman’s voice calls back. You run in the room and widen your eyes at the sight.
A small woman lays on the floor, her hand cradled to her chest. She whimpers softly, eyes closed tight as you walk toward her. Your eyes dart to the fire in the corner, but your first priority is getting the civilian to safety. You kneel next to her, quickly assessing her injuries.
“Ma’am,” You speak loudly over the fire alarm. “I’m Captain Y/LN, can you stand?”
— — — — —
Janine panicked when she heard your voice in the hallway. In hindsight, it probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but it was the only idea she’d had since Jacob left moments prior. She threw herself on the floor and spread her arms out at first. She thought against it, deciding she looked a little too dead and settled on faking a burn, instead.
Because that was such a good idea. She didn’t even really know why she did it, other than the fact that she was embarrassed.
“In here!” She yells after a moment, holding her breath. She knows she must look ridiculous and almost gets up, but you walk in before she can really change her mind.
You kneel next to her and ask her a question that Janine doesn’t quite hear. She cracks her open, her vision focusing on the most beautiful woman she’s ever seen. A soft blush flashes across her face and she can’t stop herself when she says, “I think I’m dying.”
Your eyes widen in surprise. “Not on my watch.”
Janine swears she’s being pranked when you slide one hand under her legs and one under her back, hauling her up with ease. She gasps quietly, hand resting on your chest. A familiar warmth blossoms in her lower stomach as she drinks in your appearance. “Oh-oh. I can walk,” she stammers, sinking into your arms. She swears she sees you smirk as you take her out of the classroom, making your way back down the hallway.
“Nonsense,” You say cooly, meeting her gaze. “Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.” Your eyes drag over to her hand on your chest and back to Janine’s face. Immediately, Janine realizes her mistake.
“Ooh, this hurts so bad,” she hisses, snatching her hand back. “I’m probably going to die. Or something.”
“Yeah, or something,” You laugh.
— — — — —
Janine sits in the back of the ambulance as paramedics look her over. Her friends walk over when they notice her and she feels herself shrink at Melissa’s pointed glare. “Hey, guys,” she says weakly.
“What’d you do this time, Fix-It Felix?” Melissa questions. “I had to leave my fricken’ cheesesteak in the lounge. My cheesesteak, Janine.”
“Guys, I’m sorry,” Janine mutters, shaking her head as they interrogate her. “I just wanted to fix the– hold on did you call me Fix-It Felix?”
You walk over in the knick of time, a small smile on your face. “Barbara, Melissa.” You nod to the two older women before fixing your gaze on her. “Janine.”
Barbara and Melissa exchange glances as Janine starts to blush. “H-hey you! Not dead!”
You chuckle. “I can see that,” You joke, clearing your throat. You grab your phone from your pocket, flipping to the most recent picture in your camera roll. “So, we got the fire contained. I just wanted to show you all something.”
At first, they’re all confused when you face your phone toward them. Quickly, their confusion turns to annoyance. “Janine Teagues. What is that?” Barbara scolds. Janine looks at the phone, realization dawning on her.
“Oh, you see– you guys are going to love this,” She laughs nervously. “That is, um… That is,” she pauses for a second, “A test! I wanted to make sure you all would see the, um…”
Barbara crosses her arms. “You don’t know, do you?”
“Absolutely not, no.”
“Well, it looks like yous and Jacob are a pair of idiots,” Melissa explains, taking over. She points at the phone in your hand as she looks between the two younger teachers. “One fricken flame? Really guys?”
Janine blushes furiously. “It was a big flame!”
The picture you showed them was taken in Janine’s classroom by one of your firefighters. On Janine’s desk lay an open Chromebook that had started a fire. Usually, she would scold her crew for taking valuable time to snap a picture, but she could let this one slide.
There was a fire, but it was extremely small. Lighter small. You lock your phone again and turn your attention back on Janine just as Melissa finishes her tirade.
“Next time the flame is that small, you can usually smother it. Tossing it out of the window would’ve helped too and probably would’ve got rid of the smoke,” You explain, watching as your guys pile back in the truck. You probably should be getting back soon. “Does anyone have a pen?” You ask, smiling gratefully as Melissa pulls one from the pocket of her jeans. You grab Janine’s hand and write your personal number on her wrist, brushing your thumb against her skin.
“Here,” You mumble. “Just call me before you start a fire next time.”
You leave Janine and the Abbott team to themselves as you make your way to the truck. Janine holds her hand in shock, eyes running over your messy handwriting.
“Ooh, who was that tall drink of water?” Ava says as she saunters over, watching as the truck drives off. “Did someone get me a stripper?”
She’s met with unamused glances. “Really, Ava?”
Janine tunes out their banter, only one thought in her mind.
Cause: Janine starts a fire.
Effect: Janine ends up with your phone number.
being a kid and hearing adults say stuff like "woah 2011 was 4 years ago haha" didn't really convey the fucking horror of a youtube video crossing my recommended labelled "9 years ago" and it's from 2017. that's not true. 9 years ago is 2010 or something. don't lie.
the best fanfiction you've ever read was written by a woman in her 40s before she made dinner for her kids. it was written by a teenager after school when they should've been studying for a history test. and a barista came up with the idea while they cleaned the espresso machine and busser fact-checked it on their break and the post-doc edited between writing grant proposals and the nurse apologized for typos in the notes after a long shift and behind every drabble and one-shot and multi-chapter fic there is a person with a wonderful and interesting and chaotic life and it is such a privilege that we get to be a part of it because they decided to do this thing we all share, for fun.
I mourn her </3
