pairing ∶ melissa schemmenti x fem!original character.
synopsis ∶ Melissa Schemmenti has survived just about everything Abbott Elementary can throw at her: budget cuts, chaos, and now a building fire that left more smoke than sanity behind. she’s tough, composed, and far too seasoned to be thrown off balance by anyone. at least, that’s what she tells herself. the firefighter who helped save Abbott is confident, sharp, and maddeningly calm, the kind of woman who can handle flames without blinking but somehow manages to set Melissa’s entire world on fire just by showing up.
warnings ∶ slow-burn, agegap, workplace setting, emotional tension, single parent, motherhood, found family, schemmenti-level sarcasm, confessional humor, jealousy, mentions of trauma ﹙ptsd﹚. Gregory/fem!oc implied, emotional conflict, suggestive undertones, light swearing, alcoholism, catholicism. sfw with romantic tension; language and innuendo included. english is not my first language, but I hope you enjoy it. constructive feedback is always welcomed!
* chapter one， ⠀ one fire at a time.
* chapter two， ⠀ after spring break.
* chapter three， crosswords.
* chapter four， ⠀everywhere.
coming soon! ∶
* chapter five ， ⠀hold on, hun... im writing it.
📌 ∶ @novaktism , @panerasbox , @schemmentigfs , @melissaschem . @rosie6reyes , @moonabbott , @marvel210 , @myownworriedshoes , @tultravi0lence , @theywerer00mates , @derpyavocado ⸻ let me know if you want to be tagged in future fanfics. thanks for reading! 💞
Even before the alarm dared to think about ringing, Phiona was already awake. Green eyes flicked open in the dark as if an inner switch had been thrown: sharp, alert, ready. For a beat, the room held a military kind of silence, taut, and still… Until the faintest, slow rhythm of a child’s breathing filled the space beside her. It was soft, deep, and untroubled by the world. Reynna.
The little girl was curled like a kitten beneath the heavy blanket, one cheek mashed into her mother’s arm, a single sock sliding halfway off her big toe. Phiona let her gaze linger, her expression quiet but fierce, the kind of vow you don’t speak aloud because it’s stitched into your bones. She slipped from the bed without a sound, gathering her wavy hair into a high bun as she padded down the hallway. The apartment smelled faintly of lavender detergent and last night’s chamomile tea. In the kitchen, the click of the light switch was followed by the hiss and rich aroma of coffee brewing, dark, strong, a command to her senses.
By the time the mug warmed her hand, she was already in the bathroom, steam curling over the mirror. The shower was quick, efficient, and when she stepped out, she was already mentally assembling the day ahead. The uniform, laid out: navy sweatshirt, black pants, boots waiting by the doorframe. She pulled her hair tighter into a regulation bun. Makeup followed, not as vanity, but as ritual. The soft sweep of blush. Two precise coats of mascara. A brick-nude lipstick to push the pallor of dawn from her skin. It wasn’t about how it looked; it was about control, about starting the day on her own terms.
When she returned to the bedroom, she carried a bottle of chocolate milk in one hand, a neatly folded miniature uniform in the other.
“Rise and shine, ladybug!” she murmured, her voice warm, touched with a mock-heroic flair.
“Five more minutes, Momma…" Rey mumbled, not even cracking an eyelid, one arm flung over her face like a Shakespearean damsel. Phiona’s mouth twitched toward a laugh, but she held it in, her smile softening instead.
“Today’s mission won’t wait.” she countered, peeling back the blanket with practiced gentleness, folding it with precision before laying it at the foot of the bed.
Rey, her hair a shade lighter than her mother’s, rose reluctantly, clutching the chocolate milk like a canteen. Phiona helped her into the tiny firefighter uniform. It was the last week before summer break, and Rey was transitioning to a new school. On orders from the Captain, she spent mornings with him when her mother was on duty. It made sense; he was her godfather.
Independent as she’d been raised to be, Rey was ready in ten minutes flat: pigtails neat, teeth brushed, art-supply-filled backpack slung over her shoulders. A small red bracelet rested on her wrist, a “bravery band” Captain Forester had given her on their last shift together. At 6:43 AM sharp, Phiona scooped her daughter up, not because she had to, but because it was their thing. Rey’s arms looped easily around her neck, her head finding the familiar curve of her shoulder. Phiona shut the apartment door with her elbow.
The city was already stirring, sirens somewhere far off, the clatter of a delivery truck, the hiss of bus brakes. Somewhere down the street, a bakery’s first batch of bread was hitting the ovens.
“Ah, the sweet symphony of the city!” she murmured under her breath.
Nothing was as certain as grounding, as the moment they pushed through the wide bay doors of Station 14.
“Good morning, Little Recruit!” Mars’s voice carried from the upstairs kitchen at the far end of the hall, warm and teasing in equal measure.
Reynna wriggled down from her mother’s arms before Phiona had even reached the stairs. The lieutenant followed at a steady pace while the girl darted ahead, all elbows and excitement, straight toward her godfather.
Forester sat sunk into the couch against the wall, a stack of reports balanced on one knee, eyes narrowed in the way of someone who’d already survived three shifts before 7 a.m.
“Captaaaain!” Rey’s voice cut through the quiet like a fire bell. Dennis’s face split into a wide grin, the kind that made the deep lines around his eyes look like they’d been carved there by years of laughter rather than strain.
He tossed the papers aside, spread his arms wide, and scooped her up with the effortless strength of someone who’d been doing it since she was just a red-faced bundle in Phiona’s arms. “My favorite officer has arrived! Night mission debrief, please.”
Rey leaned in close, cupping her small hand around his ear like she was about to pass state secrets. “I dreamed Momma saved a cat who turned into a dragon… But then he turned into a backpack!”
Dennis nodded gravely. “Copy that. Biohazard classified as a wearable creature. Filing it under ‘potential allies.”
From the kitchen, Ozwald’s voice rumbled through the air.
“Careful with that coffee, Phi. It’s stronger than my last existential meltdown.” he slid a piece of toast with jam toward her like a peace offering. Phiona grabbed a mug, filled it with what was almost certainly the bitterest brew in Philadelphia, and leaned against the counter.
She let her eyes sweep over the room. Her daughter tucked safely in her godfather’s arms. Oz at the stove, cooking scrambled eggs that no one would admit to liking, but everyone ate anyway. Mars pretended she wasn’t eavesdropping. Zayon snapped a photo of the bulletin board because he’d forgotten the daily schedule... Again. Emmett, steady in the corner, quiet but anchoring the space all the same.
Station 14 woke up like it always did: with rough edges, loud voices, and the kind of affection that didn’t need to be dressed up. And there, in that little world where pain and bravery walked side by side, Phiona breathed in deep.
The world outside was still harsh.
But there, at least, she wasn’t alone.
Another almost-ordinary morning at Abbott Elementary. In the teachers’ lounge, Janine was locked in a battle with the printer for the third time that week, stabbing the “Print” button like persistence alone might scare it into compliance. Gregory was arranging potted plants on a makeshift shelf, searching for a scrap of serenity before the day began. Jacob, pacing lightly, rehearsed a poem about solidarity to open class with, his hands moving almost as much as his mouth.
Melissa was already in the principal’s corner office, mid-argument about a delayed delivery of first-aid kits. She didn’t just sense trouble; she could smell it three days ahead, like a storm blowing in off the Jersey coast. It wasn’t a sixth sense. It was survival instinct, honed by years of staff meetings and Sunday dinners with her Sicilian relatives. She was mid-sentence, Ava leaning back with that “I’m-bored-but-I’m-winning” expression, when Melissa’s brow furrowed. Something was off. A faint, acrid tang in the air.
“Ava, you smell that? Or did your incompetence finally grow legs?” Ava’s lips parted for a signature comeback, and then the fire alarm screamed to life. A sharp chirp. Then a full, ear-rattling wail. Within seconds, smoke began curling from the hallway vent. It moved like it owned the place. Melissa didn’t hesitate. She yanked the wheeled fire extinguisher, the same one she’d patched with duct tape last week, and was in the hallway before anyone could say “evacuate.”
“Jacob, get the kids outta the art room! Janine, third graders! Gregory! Forget the plants, for cryin’ out loud!” the smoke thickened. Fast.
“Everyone outside! Now!” Ava’s voice boomed, firm, urgent, and for once without the cushioning of sarcasm. Small children cried. Some shouted for siblings. Others scanned the chaos for an adult to make it better. Veteran teacher Barbara Howard guided them through the main doors with a calm that could move mountains.
Janine gripped three small hands, repeating like a mantra, “One, two, three. One, two, three.” Gregory stayed upstairs, shoving windows open to vent the smoke, his jaw tight and eyes sharp. Jacob crouched low to reassure the little ones, his voice steady despite the tremor underneath. Schemmenti shoved a classroom door open with her shoulder, a young boy’s hand locked in hers with the kind of grip that saves you and scolds you in the same breath.
“You good? Breathin’? Got all ten fingers?” the boy nodded. “…Good. Now run.” that’s when she heard it: sirens closing in, a sharp crack from somewhere above the ceiling, and the burnt, greasy stench rolling thick from the cafeteria. “Shit.” she hauled the extinguisher forward, cursing budget cuts and the school’s ventilation system under her breath. The nozzle spat white foam into the smoke-clogged hallway, carving a narrow, breathable path.
One fire at a time.
The sound of Station 14’s engines tore through the air like a promise. Ruthless, roaring, charging through the streets like a knight in steel and chrome. When the firetruck screeched to a halt in front of Abbott Elementary, chaos had already taken root. The restless shuffle of dozens of feet. The hiss of smoke escaping somewhere it shouldn’t. And over it all, the unsettling groan of a building straining under its own weight.
First to step down was a tall woman whose presence hit before her boots even touched the ground. Striking green eyes cut through the haze, visible even behind the black seal of her mask. Her spine was straight as a steel beam; her voice sliced through the noise with the precision of someone who had been here too many times and refused to lose. She read the unfolding disaster like an open blueprint. Lieutenant D’Arc didn’t just arrive. She erupted.
The teachers, their faces sweaty and streaked with ash, didn’t back away out of fear, but out of trust. They knew she was in charge now. Completely. Melissa Schemmenti took in the sight. That first firefighter hit the ground like she owned it, fearless, like someone who had stared down hell and bargained her way out. A leader. Unshaken. Her voice carried a fury that was tightly leashed but undeniably alive. It was like watching a parallel-universe version of herself, only with a fire hose instead of a coffee mug and an oxygen tank instead of a sarcastic remark.
“That woman knows exactly what she’s doin.” Melissa muttered. Half to herself, half to the universe, before shoving the last kid toward safety. Then she spotted Ava in the middle of the courtyard, phone raised, livestreaming to her followers. “If you’re gonna die, Ava, at least die doin’ somethin’ useful, like countin’ the damn kids!”
“There are still kids in the cafeteria!” Gregory’s calm voice finally cracked, urgency flooding in. “Has anyone seen Sophie and Max?” Janine’s voice was thin, high, threaded with panic. Phiona didn’t even glance up. She signaled with two fingers, a sharp, practiced gesture, and Mars and Zayon fell in behind her without hesitation. The unspoken order was clear: search and rescue.
Then, in a flash of determination and expertise, she disappeared into the smoke.
A inside of the building was a choking maze. The air hung thick with smoke, bitter and burning, clawing down the throat. Every groan from the ceiling felt like a countdown. Glass popped in the heat, each sharp crack ricocheting down the hall like gunfire. In the cafeteria, overturned tables cast monstrous, twitching shadows across the walls. Phiona stayed low, scanning fast, until her eyes caught on a small backpack near the counter, then on two kids curled behind it. Tears streaked their soot-darkened faces. Sophie’s coughs rattled her tiny frame; Max just clung to his knees, wide-eyed and frozen.
“Hey,” Phiona said, her tone steady but warm, a lifeline wrapped in authority. “I’m Lieutenant D’Arc. I’m here to get you out. Ready to evacuate the danger zone?” Max shook his head, sobbing. Sophie nodded, reaching for her like she was the only solid thing in the room. Phiona gathered them both into her arms without hesitation, the weight familiar, the instinct automatic, like she’d done this a thousand times in a thousand nightmares.
In the kitchen, Marissa and Zayon were dragging an unconscious teacher toward the door while Emmett laid down a curtain of water, quenching the flames’ reach. Somewhere in the west wing, Oz’s voice was barking directions, corralling students into daylight. Every movement was precise. Purposeful. A choreography born from trust. And in under fifteen minutes, they had done the impossible.
When the last student crossed the threshold into fresh air, the world seemed to exhale. No fatalities. No critical injuries. Just wide eyes and pounding hearts trying to keep up with what had happened. It was a blur, children shepherded into waiting arms, a limp body passed to paramedics, a new teacher caught mid-hallway, frozen, while someone screamed at him with the ferocity of a mother refusing to lose her own. And then Phiona appeared through the haze. Two soot-covered children in her arms, her stride heavy but unbroken, her lungs dragging in the burn, her gaze locked forward. She looked like she’d been through hell and made sure no one else followed.
“Somebody write this down,” Ava muttered, still dazed. “We’re putting this on the school flyer: We survived 2020 and a fire. Try us.”
Janine, blouse clinging to her from sweat and heat, looked at the fire crew with wide, reverent eyes, whispering thanks to whoever was listening. Jacob held himself and sobbed openly, the sound shaking more than the smoke. Melissa’s red curls were damp against her temples, a paper cup trembling in her hand. But her mind was working, scanning faces, counting the living. Her gaze landed on Gregory. He wasn’t looking at the wreckage. Or the smoke. He was watching Phiona.
From the moment she’d pulled off her helmet, gasping for clean air, her face streaked with ash and dried blood, something in him had shifted. Recognition. Not just of her face, but of the way she looked at the children. Like every single one belonged to her, too. Melissa noticed. She tilted her head, remembering Ava’s comment just moments ago: “Gregory,” she said under her breath, a low voice for only him to hear. “You keep staring at her like that, and we’re gonna have to add a romance novel cover to the school flyer too.” Gregory blinked, startled, but didn’t look away.
“If that woman doesn't get a medal and a home-cooked Italian dinner from me,” Melissa added more loudly, “This world’s a lost cause.” she straightened her shirt, swallowed her fear, and fell back into the role she always played, steady hands hiding the quake inside.
A few feet away, Janine, small in stature, big in heart, followed Gregory’s fixed gaze.
“W–What is it?” she asked softly.
His voice was barely a breath. “She looks… Familiar.” as if the past had just stepped through the fire, still burning, and was staring right back at him.
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📌 ∶ @novaktism , @panerasbox , @schemmentigfs , @melissaschem . @rosie6reyes , @moonabbott , @marvel210 , @myownworriedshoes , @tultravi0lence , @theywerer00mates , @derpyavocado ⸻ let me know if you want to be tagged in future fanfics. thanks for reading! 💞
Even though dinner between Janine and Gregory had cleared up a fair share of the whole reunion mess, the air between the teachers still carried an awkward, paper-thin tension, like something fragile hanging in the space between them. And lately, a strange pattern had emerged: no matter where they went, Phiona was there.
The first encounter was at church. Sunday morning sunlight spilled through the stained-glass windows in ribbons of ruby, sapphire, and gold. The sanctuary wasn’t crowded, just a scattering of worshippers, and a few people lingered in the back, waiting for the AA meeting later. Barbara stood near the side aisle, chatting with a knot of church sisters, her purse perfectly cradled in front of her like a sacred relic.
“...And I told him, if the Lord intended for you to eat that much pie, He’d have given you two stomachs,” she finished with a lilting laugh, her voice warm enough to melt butter. Then her eyes caught a figure in the back pew—tattoos peeking from rolled sleeves, posture relaxed, watching the stained glass more than the pulpit. “Ladies, you’ll excuse me,” Barbara said, smoothing her skirt and gliding down the aisle with practiced grace. She slipped onto the bench beside the younger woman, her smile a perfect blend of welcome and command. “Lieutenant.” she greeted, as if announcing royalty.
“Miss Howard! Didn’t think I’d see you in this church.” Phiona said with an easy grin, her arm draped along the back of the bench. She crossed one leg over the other, settling in like she had all day to chat. She wasn’t used to making small talk with people outside her usual work bubble.
“The sentiment is mutual, dear. Tell me, did you bless us with your presence for the whole service today? Or just for the highlights?”
“Oh, I came in earlier. I come every other Sunday, but most of the time Reynna’s with me before mass, so I just make it to the nine o’clock meeting.”
Barbara’s smile softened, caught the hint, and didn’t push further, eyes twinkling. She pivoted gracefully to talking about Reynna, as if the child were a princess in a storybook: the charming bright-eyed little girl who seemed to sprinkle sunshine down the hallways, and probably winning over half the faculty with her endless stories about the uncles at the firehouse. Compliments flowed like fine tea, and when they parted with a warm embrace, Barbara’s perfume lingered like a hymn.
The second encounter came in the form of dim lights, laughter, and the faint smell of beer at a bar.
Jacob was buzzing with the importance of it. Meeting Tyler’s friends felt like crossing a relationship threshold, some sort of invisible milestone. He’d even practiced remembering names and fun facts so he wouldn’t forget anyone. What he wasn’t ready for was that half of them were firefighters.
“It’s so great to finally meet you, Jacob! My brother talks about you all the time,” said Marissa, tall, brunette, and quick with a wink. She guided him to a table crowded with big personalities. “Alright, everyone. Listen up! Roll call!”
At the table sat two couples from the 911 dispatch center; the rest were all firehouse muscle and laughter—loud, warm, and the kind of people who slapped you on the back when they laughed. Phiona appeared like she’d been summoned, a pool cue in hand, her eyes flicking to Marissa, then to Jacob. Tyler slipped behind him, placing a drink in his hand and kissing his cheek.
“Well, it’s about damn time, Tyler,” Phiona teased, pulling him into a hug. Then she looked at Jacob again, recognition flashing like a bulb. “Wait! You teach at my daughter’s school!”
“Oh yeah, Reynna! She’s in Eddie’s class: loves dinosaurs, hates peas, can do a cartwheel but only if she measures the space with her arms first, which is exactly four feet, give or take, depending on her shoes…” Jacob kept going until Phiona’s laughter cut through the noise.
“Okay, yeah. That’s her.”
The rest of the night was easy conversation, bursts of laughter, overlapping stories, and competitive banter over a round of pool. Jacob got drawn into every story, leaning in to ask follow-up questions, sometimes adding way more detail than anyone needed, but somehow, the group loved it. Later, he and Phiona teamed up for a game of pool, trading competitive smirks and accidentally revealing way more about himself than he’d intended.
By the time Tyler pulled him away, he felt like part of the crew.
The third encounter happened in the soft crackle-and-dust quiet of a record store. The bell over the door chimed as Phiona walked in, Reynna’s small hand swinging in hers. They were there for their pizza night tradition, another vinyl to add to the collection. Reynna darted between racks, pulled to the covers that exploded with color.
She spotted someone first, her little hand shot up in a wave, excitement bubbling, waving enthusiastically. Phiona turned, scanning the space until her eyes landed on Mr. Johnson in unusual clothes. The man’s face lit up the second he spotted them. Mr. Johnson looked up from the jazz section, his sharp suit somehow untouched by the musty vinyl air.
“Lieutenant D’Arc! And my favorite kiddo!” he greeted, bending slightly down for a high-five. “So, what’s good here?” he squinted at a cover, sliding on his glasses but still leaning in to read the tiny print. Reynna proudly held up The Beatles’ Yellow Submarine, the bright cover grinning back at him. “Now that’s good taste, troublemaker.”
They spent a good time while flipping through albums, only picking the brightest covers. At checkout, Reynna perched on Phiona’s hip, swinging her legs while Mr. Johnson carried their basket.
“So, Mr. Charming, what’s the occasion?” Phiona asked, her voice playful but her eyes sharp with curiosity. A smirk curled at the edges of her mouth.
He tilted his head, a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. “Let’s just say… I’m cooking up something special for someone special.”
Outside, he held the door for them. The cool air spilled in as they swapped bags.
“We miss you at the firehouse.” she said as they stepped apart.
“Good luck with your special thing, Mr. Johnson!” Reynna shouted, waving until he disappeared around the corner, her voice carrying down the street like a ribbon in the breeze.
The fourth time was fire... Literal fire.
Ava had been on a date with her fiancé at one of the city’s upscale restaurants—white tablecloths, low golden lighting, the kind of place where the wine list was longer than the menu.
It started in the kitchen, the faint smell of something burning curling through the air like a warning no one wanted to acknowledge. Somewhere between the appetizers and dessert, the smell of smoke curled into the dining room. At first, a whisper. Then, heat and chaos, flames licking the ceiling, the roar of panic. Chairs scraped, glasses shattered, and shouts tangled in the air. People stumbled toward the exits, some coughing, some crying. The front windows glowed with the violent orange of the flames, and the night air outside shimmered with heat distortion. Fire eating through the ornate facade. The squad was already there. Helmets catching the light, boots striking hard against wet pavement. Paramedics moved in precise bursts, guiding coughing, trembling patrons toward safety.
Ava, however, was unshaken. Her fingers laced with her fiancé’s, she took in the scene with the detached calm of someone who had seen worse… Or didn’t care to be rattled. She leaned in close and whispered something indecent, the corner of her mouth tugging into a sly smile. Her eyes scanned the scene, catching glimpses of waitstaff with skin mottled by burns, their uniforms charred and clinging. She was still taking it all in when movement at her side drew her attention.
She saw Phiona moving fast, pushing a gurney toward an ambulance. Her gloves were blackened with soot, her face set in fierce concentration, hair escaping the edge of her helmet. And just like that, she was gone again, swallowed back into the smoke and the swarm of flashing lights. Ava’s eyes lingered on the space she’d vanished from. Slowly, her lips parted into a grin, not the warm kind but dangerous kind. Her mind flicked to those unapologetically provocative Instagram shots, the ones that had burned themselves into her and Melissa's memory weeks ago.
The teachers’ lounge smelled faintly of coffee and yesterday’s takeout, the low hum of the vending machine filling the quiet gaps between conversations.
“Alright, everybody. Listen up! You are not gonna believe the madness I got into this weekend.” Ava swept in like she owned the place, heels clicking against the tile as she made a beeline for the coffee station. Steam hissed when she pressed the machine, and only Janine and Jacob looked up from their work. “I was in a fire!” she announced, like she was revealing a surprise vacation.
“What? And you came to work today? What happened? How did—” Janine start, but Ava cut her off with a sigh so extravagantly bored it might as well have been rehearsed.
“The restaurant caught on fire. Total chaos. Smoke, screaming, very Hollywood. But, silver lining.” her mouth curled into a grin as she jabbed Melissa’s arm with her elbow, trying to snap her out of her salad-induced trance. “I didn’t even get traumatized because a certain firefighter angel was there to save the day.”
Janine’s gaze slid toward Gregory, who was hunched over his notebook, scribbling something with a faint smile. Jacob, on the other hand, froze mid-sip of his coffee. He hadn’t exactly mentioned to anyone that his Wednesday nights often ended across town, hanging out with his boyfriend’s friends for trivia. The door creaked open, and Mr. Johnson strolled in, trash bag in hand.
“Why you lookin’ like that, Jacob? Never seen me before?” he teased, planting one hand on his hip. Every head turned toward the redhead, suspicion spreading like wildfire.
“It’s not that I—no, I just—forget it!” Jacob stammered, waving it off so abruptly he nearly sloshed coffee onto himself.
“We were just talking about how I was in a fire,” Ava said, sliding past Janine to sink into the couch with a satisfied flop. “And how I ran into Gregory’s old flame in full superhero glory.”
“Phiona? Saw her just the other day with little ReyRey in the record store,” Mr. Johnson chimed in, lowering himself into a chair beside Barbara and Melissa. “Kid’s got taste, picked The Beatles for a bedtime song.”
“Well, I will have you all know…” Barbara’s voice cut through like the opening chord of a hymn. She straightened her back, folding her hands in her lap with the poise of a queen addressing her court. “I happened to run into Lieutenant D’Arc this past Sunday, in the house of the Lord. Standing there in her Sunday best, looking as though she had stepped straight out of Proverbs 31. Praise be.” her eyes, calm but razor-sharp, shifted toward Gregory. “Gregory, I must say, I had no idea you were acquainted with such a God-fearing woman.”
His brows rose, his expression caught somewhere between surprise and mild irritation. Only Captain Forester knew about the lieutenant’s struggles with alcohol, and Barbara’s comment felt like a line she was testing.
“Neither did I.” he said simply, pen still hovering over the page. Meanwhile, Jacob had gone suspiciously quiet, his face matching the shade of a ripe tomato.
Confessional， ⠀Ava ∶
Ava leans toward the camera, a conspiratorial glint in her eyes.
“Listen, I knew something was up. First, Jacob looks like he just saw a ghost in the form of a janitor in a perfectly normal school lounge. Then, Barbara, our resident saint, is over here trying to claim a hot firefighter for her church group.” She laughs, a dry, dismissive sound. “The tea is scalding, y’all. And I’m just sipping. I’m just a little investigative journalist trying to find the truth: how is it that this one woman, with her firefighter swag and her… everything else, has somehow infiltrated every single one of these boring teachers’ lives?”
She smiles, a wide, slow, and dangerous smirk.
“But don’t worry. I’m on the case. And I always get my answers.”
“Alright, Jacob, spill it. You’re too quiet, and that means either you’re plottin’ or you’re sick, and I don’t like either option.” Melissa pointed out, still forking up bites of her salad like she had all the time in the world.
Jacob fidgeted, then caved.
“It’s just—well... My boyfriend, Tyler, he’s actually the brother of Phi’s best friend, which sounds like a super distant connection, but it’s not because they’re basically joined at the hip. And so, a few weeks ago, we ended up at the same trivia night, completely by accident, at least for me, and then the next week, it happened again, and this time she waved me over, and you know me, I can’t just ignore someone being friendly, so I went. And... Um, it turns out she’s actually really funny when she’s not, like, in full firefighter armor mode? Still very tall, very intimidating, but in a fun way. And… we got along really well.”
“…So you’ve been hanging out with Phiona for weeks and didn’t think to tell me?” Janine’s head snapped toward him. “All of you have run into her and kept it to yourselves?”
“Okay, ‘hanging out’ makes it sound way more planned than it was.” he tried to argue.
“Nah. Sounds about as planned as it ever was,” Melissa said flatly, though her eyes darted away. She’d actually had a brief conversation with Phiona in the parking lot a few weeks ago, but no one needs to know. “And for the record, I ain’t seen her up close. But them boots? Yeah, I’d spot ’em in a blackout.”
Ava smirked, leaning back with her coffee. “But you wouldn’t mind, right, Mel?”
Melissa stabbed another piece of lettuce, unbothered. “You think that’s enough to throw me off? Please, I’m a Schemmenti.”
Janine’s jaw tightened as she sucked in a slow breath, fighting to keep her expression neutral. She told herself there was no reason to get wound up. Gregory had been keeping his distance from the lieutenant. More distance than before, anyway.
Confessional， ⠀Janine ∶
Janine looks at the camera, her mouth a tight line. She holds up her hands in a gesture of exaggerated calm.
"I'm not jealous. I'm not. This is just… I'm just a little concerned." she taps her forehead, then lowers her hands. "Gregory and I had a thing. We had a moment. And now… now he’s acting like this whole new person, and all because of her. And everybody else is just… talking about her. It's like she's a celebrity or something."
She glances away from the camera, her eyes narrowing. "What's so great about a firefighter, anyway? It's not that big of a deal. I'm a teacher. I make a difference in children's lives every single day. I bet she doesn't even know what an inclusive classroom looks like." her voice gets quieter, more pained. "But Gregory… he just smiles when he sees her. And that's all I need to know." she bites her lip, then turns away, defeated.
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📌 ∶ @schemmentigfs , @melissaschem , @rosie6reyes , @moonabbott , @marvel210 , @myownworriedshoes , @theywerer00mates , @derpyavocado ⸻ let me know if you want to be tagged in future fanfics. thanks for reading! 💞
Three days had passed since Abbott’s grand reopening, and to everyone’s surprise, or maybe not, Gregory Eddie seemed… Lighter. There was a looseness to his posture, a subtle spark in his gaze, an ease in the way his shoulders stayed relaxed even when dealing with Ava. The crooked smile that used to appear once a week now visited more often, uninvited but welcome. He was still the same composed, principled man they all knew… But there was an undertone. Janine could feel it in her bones. It wasn’t just change. It was disruption. She didn’t recognize herself in this knot of discomfort, in the way her breath shortened every time she caught a glimpse of him talking to her. How could a woman that strange, that… Unbothered, shake her self-esteem like a snow globe?
In the lounge, the world kept spinning in small, habitual motions. Jacob tapped away at his blog, his eyes flicking back and forth like a typewriter carriage. Barbara sat still, spine regal, lips moving silently over a verse from her devotional. Melissa leaned back, feet crossed, crossword in hand, but her eyes were elsewhere. Watching. Always watching, and right now, she was watching Janine unravel in real time. Reminding Melissa of an old cartoon, expressions exaggerated, emotions boiling just beneath the skin and threatening to pop out in little puffs of steam.
“One dollar for your thoughts,” Jacob murmured, not looking up from his screen but clearly tuned in. Janine inhaled sharply, forcing the jealousy down like bitter medicine.
“It’s nothing…”
Melissa didn’t even look up from her crosswords. “Nah, see… ‘nothing’ doesn't make you stare at the floor like somebody just spit on your soul.” the words ripped the lid off.
“It’s that… That damn tattooed Avatar!” Janine blurted, her voice bouncing louder than she intended. Jacob froze mid-type. Barbara lifted her eyes, a rare event, like spotting a solar eclipse.
“My, my. Filthy mouth for a school morning,” Barbara said, her tone smooth as silk but with a sting hiding under it. “Janine, sweetheart, why are you acting like this?”
Janine’s throat tightened. The truth was a stone she couldn’t quite spit out. It wasn’t only that Gregory had reconnected with Phiona; it was the way he was with her. The quiet lunches? Gone. Now there was laughter in the parking lot, that deep, warm kind that crinkled the edges of his eyes. The way his gaze used to drift into nowhere during breaks? Now it had a focus, a tall, solid figure that made entire rooms inhale and hold.
“Since the reopening,” she began, her voice small but edged with frustration. “Gregory hasn’t had lunch with us even once…” the door banged open, cutting her sentence clean in half. Ava Coleman stormed in with a swagger powered by sarcasm and half a gallon of coffee. She scanned the room, nostrils flaring like she’d caught the scent of gossip in the air.
“Oh yeah, he’s totally banging that hot firefighter.” the silence that followed had texture, thick enough to slice with a fire axe. “What?” Ava tilted her head, incredulous. “You’re telling me you haven’t noticed those tattooed arms? That thick, sculpted ass? That’s not just a body. That’s art. Y’all are asleep.”
Melissa bit back a smirk. Barbara blinked once, then returned to her book. Janine’s lips pressed so tight they turned white. Scrolling through her phone, Ava’s grin curved slowly and dangerously. “Speaking of the devil…” Her thumb paused on an Instagram suggestion: Phiona D’Arc. The grid lit up with heat. The first three shots were straight from the fire department’s charity calendar. Phiona in turnout pants slung low, suspenders hanging, gloves hooked at her belt. Shoulders carved from years of labor. Tattoos peeking like secrets from under the edges of her tank top.
Melissa caught herself leaning closer. Ava noticed. “Oh, you’re gonna love this one, Mel.”
Melissa didn’t react right away. She kept her crossword in hand, eyes on the page, lips pressed in a line that didn’t quite hide the corner twitch. Janine noticed. Of course she noticed.
Confessional， ⠀Melissa ∶
Arms crossed, leaning back in her chair.
“So… Ava shoves this calendar photo of Phiona in my face. I don’t say nothin’. I mean, what am I gonna say?” she gives the camera a slow, deliberate eyebrow raise, holding it for just a beat too long. Melissa leans forward just a bit, smirking like she’s about to confess something she’s not sorry for. “And listen, this mostly-straight woman? Suddenly remembered why women were still on the menu. ‘Cause turns out, women can be ridiculously hot. And Phiona? She’s both a public service and a safety hazard.”
She chuckles low, shaking her head before adding: “But look, I’m not here to mess with Gregory’s… Whatever this is. The guy’s happy. Just maybe don’t leave me alone in a room with Miss Fire Calendar unless you want me askin’ about those tattoos.” she shrugs, unapologetic.
As the children filed back into their classrooms after lunch, teachers stood at their doors with gentle smiles and soft greetings. Melissa was chatting with Janine about the shared reading project. She'd bought a fresh set of books for Peter Rabbit’s introduction, but Janine’s attention was elsewhere. Her gaze was locked on Gregory, who was crouched down, meeting his first graders’ eyes as he welcomed them back with easy warmth. She cut Melissa off mid-sentence with a small wave and stepped toward him, her stride sharp.
“Hey… Uh—” she stumbled over the first word, the hesitation lasting a breath before the question tumbled out. “Do I need to worry about this?” Gregory blinked, caught off guard. “About… Her.” Janine clarified, chin tipping toward his classroom. He tilted his head, brows pulling in slightly.
“I’m gonna need a little more clarity if you want a real answer.” truth was, he’d been so absorbed in reconnecting with his old best friend that, for a moment, the present had blurred, the life he was building at Abbott, the relationships, the fragile equilibrium he’d been guarding. That was the danger of letting the past slip into the now.
“Since that lieutenant showed up, you’ve changed,” Janine said, her voice low but edged. “So I need to know if… If you’re choosing her over me.”
The door to Gregory’s classroom opened. Phiona stepped out, phone in hand, her stride carrying a relaxed precision, heels clicking softly, shoulders loose, as if the daylight belonged to her. She lifted her eyes, scanning the trio. When her gaze landed on Melissa, something subtle shifted. Her smile curved slowly, deliberate, her eyes dragging down and back up and lingering on the way those leather pants framed her hips. Melissa didn’t move, but the faintest quirk tugged at one corner of her mouth, her fingers curling around the spine of her book a fraction tighter. Phiona’s attention flicked away as if nothing had happened, locking on Janine.
“Uh… Choosing who, Thompson?” the tone was light, conversational, but there was iron under the silk.
“In case you didn’t notice, we were in the middle of something,” Janine said, squaring her shoulders.
“And… Who are you again?” Phiona’s voice was smooth, almost lazy, but the kind of lazy that left no room for challenge. “Well, whatever. Rey said she’s doing better, so I think she’ll stay for the rest of the day. Anyway, if you need, call 911.” she moved past them without breaking stride, her perfume: coffee, leather, and something faintly floral, brushing the air between her and Melissa. Gregory exhaled, looking at Janine.
“Don’t worry about her. Listen, let’s talk tonight, okay? I’ll make dinner.” he disappeared into his classroom, the door closing softly behind him. Only then did Janine notice the hallway was empty.
Later that same day, Melissa made her way to the parking lot. The late afternoon sun stretched long shadows across the asphalt, the hum of traffic faint in the background. She spotted Phiona across the street. Uniform on, hair a little mussed from the day, one arm wrapped securely around her daughter while the other opened the door of a gray GMC SUV. She eased the little girl into her car seat with a practiced gentleness, brushing a stray curl off her forehead before queuing up a Barbie movie on a tablet.
When Phiona turned, her intense green eyes locked instantly onto Melissa’s figure across the way, as if she’d been expecting her. Melissa raised a hand in greeting. Phiona’s mouth curved into a big smile, an exhale slipping past her lips like she’d already done a quick mental check: kid safe, seatbelt fastened, distractions in place. Melissa tucked her things into her own car, then crossed the street with a brisk jog, the click of her boots sharp against the pavement. Phiona leaned against the SUV door, the sun catching the faint sheen of sweat at her temple, her posture relaxed but carrying that magnetic air that seemed entirely unforced.
“Who do I have the honor of finally meeting?” she asked, her voice warm but threaded with curiosity.
“Schemmenti. Melissa.” Melissa’s tone was clipped. Less from rudeness, more from annoyance at herself for not doing this earlier in the week. She took a breath, then cut straight to it. “Listen, somethin’s been goin’ on, and I ain’t the type to dance around it. You probably don’t even realize it, but it’s gotten outta hand. I just need to know one thing.”
“Yes, Melissa, you can absolutely visit the station and climb into one of the trucks.” Phiona teased, her eyes glinting. The joke earned a genuine laugh out of the redhead, brief but unguarded. She had a knack for using humor like a scalpel, precise, cutting tension before it could harden into something uncomfortable. Melissa’s voice lowered.
“Cute. But no, I’m talkin’ serious here. You remember Miss Teagues, the tiny one? Well, her and Gregory had a thing before you walked in that day, and since then she’s been like a damn balloon with a slow leak, nothin’ but sad air. It’s makin’ things awkward at school, and it’s gettin’ on my nerves. She’s my friend, so as her friend, I’m askin’: do I need to start preparin’ her for a heartbreak or what? Why’re you lookin’ at me like that? I got somethin’ on my face?”
Phiona didn’t answer right away. Instead, she ran the tip of her tongue across her bottom lip, her eyes steady on Melissa like she was cataloging every detail: the lines that came from years of laughter, the set of her jaw, the way her mouth shaped words in that thick South Philly accent. Taking a small step closer, she bit the inside of her cheek, just enough for her voice to drop a fraction.
“Are you familiar with Jurassic Park?” Melissa blinked at the unexpected pivot but nodded. “Gregory and I used to watch it when we were kids. Let’s just say… We both had a crush on Dr. Ellie Sattler.” Melissa’s brows pulled together slightly, processing the memory-turned-confession. Phiona opened the driver’s side door but paused with one hand on the frame, looking at her like she wasn’t done. “Personally? I always wished she were a redhead.”
The wink that followed wasn’t rushed; it lingered for half a heartbeat too long before she slipped into the seat, started the engine, and pulled away, leaving only the low purr of the SUV and a faint trace of leather and smoke in the air. Melissa stood there, stunned. Her mouth was slightly open. Her breath caught somewhere in her chest. It had been a long time since she’d felt that drawn to a woman. The camera, which had been keeping its distance, slowly panned in close enough to catch the exact moment Melissa’s face shifted from shock to something she clearly didn’t want on record. She noticed the lens and immediately jabbed a finger at it.
“Don’t look at me like that. Yeah, I heard what she said. And no, I ain’t blushin’. My face just… Does that in the sun.” she waved her hand dismissively, but her eyes lingered on the spot where the SUV had disappeared. She glanced off to the side, tongue pressing into her cheek before muttering, almost to herself, “This is… Different. And I ain’t sure I like what that means.” the camera didn’t move, waiting for her to elaborate. Melissa’s gaze snapped back. “That’s all you’re gettin’. Now beat it before I make you run laps.” she yanked open her car door, sliding in.
Just before the shot cut, the lens caught it: a small, unguarded smile, gone as quickly as it appeared.
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📌 ∶ @schemmentigfs , @melissaschem . @rosie6reyes , @moonabbott , @marvel210 , @myownworriedshoes , @theywerer00mates , @derpyavocado ⸻ let me know if you want to be tagged in future fanfics. thanks for reading! 💞
