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natsvenom · 4 months

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Angel

Jason DiLaurentis x fem!reader

SUMMARY: You’ve spent the past few days being distant with your boyfriend, Jason, after you and the liars are go to a coffee shop in town and run into his ex-girlfriend Cece Drake.

WARNINGS! Age gap, slight angst, alcohol ingestion, reader has an eating disorder (anorexia), body shaming, etc.

You and the liars walk into the Apple Rose Grill. Everything was stressful, per usual. Garrett had been let off the hook for murder and now Wilden was trying to make Hanna look guilty. There was currently a court order out for them to take a sample for Hanna’s blood. That would’ve been fine, knowing Hanna isn’t guilty. Except A has a way of making an innocent person a guilty one.

“Take it from me, you’re always better off with a really good lie.” A feminie voice said from behind you guys. You physically felt your heart stop in your chest. The voice was insanely similar to Alison’s.

“Is it just me or did that sound a lot like…” Emily mumbled. Younturned around to see a blonde girl standing at the register. There was no way that could be her, right?

“…Alison.” You guys said in unison.

The girl turned around with a smile on her face, but it quickly faded as she saw you guys staring at her like she was ancient relic, “Something wrong?” She asked.

“Oh, no, sorry.” Aria apologized, “You just sound a lot like one of our friends.”

“Hope she’s brilliant.” The girl said, “What’s her name?”

“Alison DiLaurentis.” You told her, staring at her like she was a lost dog.

She looked at you guys in realization, “You were friends of Ali’s.” She says, “Me too, I’m Cece.” You had heard that name before, you just weren’t exactly sure where from.

“Spencer.” Spencer spoke, greeting herself.

“Melissa Hastings little sister.” Cece noted, “Ali talked about you. She talked about all of you. A lot.”

“How do you know Ali?” You dared to ask.

“Before I moved to L.A our families rented summer homes in Cape May. We went through an intense couple weeks together. I dated her brother, Jason. She never mentioned me to you guys?” Cece explained. You suddenly felt tense hearing the mention of Jason. You could only imagine what she meant by an intense couple of weeks. But there was no need for you to be jealous, right? Jason was with you not her. But in the moment you couldn’t help but notice how incredibly gorgeous Cece Drake was. She had beatiful blonde hair, blue eyes, easily a size 4, and not to mention her confident outgoing personality. She was everything you weren’t.

For some reason this realization made you sick to your stomach. She looked perfectly healthy, while the reason you had looked the way you did was from practically making yourself sick. Almost your whole life you had been worried about your appearance; making sure you never ate more than 1000 calories a day, over exerrting yourself, and excercising till you felt your body break down.

You knew you were destroying yourself, but you wanted to be pretty. You wanted to be like the girls at your school who all the boys fawned over. You wanted to be the girl who was always picked first for group projects. You wanted to be the girl who wasn’t afraid to wear a crop top in public. You wanted to be like Alison, beautiful and destructive.

Alison had told you something that’s always stuck with you, “You’re pretty, but sweetie you need to drop a few pounds.” When she was alive you easily weighed 130 pounds. By the time your family moved back to Rosewood, you weighed 100, and now you weigh 110. everyone had noticed the dramtic changes over the years. Your family had done nothing but worry about you, the boys at school would whistle at you and make inappropriate remarks, Hanna was someone who you could relate to, and Jason was someone you could rely on.

Before you guys started dating, he found out about your eating disorder. At the time you and the other liars were still questioning if he was A, but after he had helped you get better you never once thought about him being A again, and dismissed the girls when every they tried to convince you he was just being friendly to get information. Luckily, things were different now.

You wondered why Jason had never brought up Cece Drake before. You silently wondered if there was any part of him that still thought about her. I mean she’s gorgeous, who wouldn’t be thinking about her.

You had been zoned out for so long you hadn’t even been paying attention to their conversation until you saw her about to leave, but she stopped in her tracks, “Do any of you girls know if Jason is seeing anyone? I hear he looks really good now-a-days.” Cece asked.

The rest of the girls looked at you subtly before turning back to Cece, “No clue.” Spencer said quickly, shrugging her shoulders. Cece nodded her head.

“Well if you see him tell him I say hi.” She said in flirtatious tone, making your skin crawl.

It had been two days since you last spoke to Jason. You spent the last couple of days worrying about your body, spiraling back into that same old self concious loop you had been so familiar with. He was starting to get worried about you. He had absolutely no idea what was going on with you.

You sigh, sitting in the driver’s seat of your car. You know you shouldn’t do this, but you really needed something to take your mind off Cece Drake.

Jason sighed as he sat down on the front porch of his house. He had absolutely no explanation for what was goingon and it was driving him crazy. He turned his head when he heard footsteps walking up to him. He had hoped it would be you, but was met with slight disappointment when he saw someone else.

“Hey.” Spencer greeted softly, walking up the porch to sit by her brother. He simply nodded at her, looking down at the cement floor, which suddenly became very interesting.

“I met Cece Drake this morning.” Spencer revealed. Jason looked up, a confused expression on his face. He hadn’t heard that name in so long, nor thought of it. Spencer could see the gears turning in his head.

“What?” She questioned.

“Was y/n with you?” He asked, looking at her desperately for answers.

“Yeah, why?” It suddenly clicked in his head what was going on with you. You weren’t ignoring him because you were mad at him. You were ignoring him because of something she had said.

You sat on a hard red stool at the bar, thanking Alison internally for getting you a fake id. All you had to do was flash it to the bartender and he came back with exactly what you thought you needed. Alcohol.

You had only drank a little bit, but you were already starting to feel tipsy. You were clearly a light weight, and almost everyone knew it.

“What’s a pretty girl like yourself doing here all alone?” A masculine voice asked from beside you. You turned your head to see a man sitting next to you, a glass of something that was defintely stronger than what you were drinking.

“I’m wondering the same thing myself.” You heard another voice say from behind you. You didn’t have to think twice about it to know who it was. You spun yourself around in the stool and were met with his warm green eyes. You groaned dramatically, pushing youself off the stool. You forgot that the stool was hightened, and practically fell right into Jason’s arms.

His arms wrapped around you quickly, pulling you back up straight. Well, straight as you could get in that moment, “I’m taking you home.” He said strictly, making you giggle. It wasn’t really funny, but right now everything seemed comical to you. You pushed past him walking out of the bar. You felt the cold night air hit your face. It felt good at first, but then it made you feel sick. You threw up into the bushes right outside the bar, right before warm hands pulled your hair back for you.

“I don’t feel good.” You mumbled, wiping your mouth off.

“Mm, I wonder why.” Jason quipped, rubbing your back as an attempt to soothe you. You groaned, shoving your head into his chest. He put one of his hands in your hair, rubbing your head comfortably.

“You smell good.” You mumbled into his chest, making let out a breathy laugh, “Can we make out now?” You asked, pulling him down by his jacket. He kissed the top of your head.

“Not right now pretty girl.” He said softly. You groaned, the annoyance making you roll your eyes. You pushed away from him, walking through the parking lot, Jason following closely behind you.

You stopped in the middle of the parking lot, looking at a group of trees intensly, “Hey, who put those there?” You wondered, observing the trees like they were the most interesting thing in the world. Jason came up behind you, shrugging his jacket off and putting it over your shoulders. He didn’t say anything, knowing that explaining the process of the life cycle of a tree to a drunk person would just end up with and endless amount of stupid questions.

“I think you should take a nap and then google it in the morning.” He said, intertwining his hand with yours as he walked you to the car, opening the door for you and helping you get in. The car ride home was relatively quite, but it wasn’t uncomfortable silence, it was nice.

When you got to the DiLaurentis house, Jason’s hands stayed on your waist as he guided you up the stairs. You plopped down on his bed as he pulled something out of his closet for you to wear. He helped you unzip your little black dress and pulled his hoodie over your head. You yawned as you threw yourself back onto his bed. He sat down next you, pulling the covers over you and placing a gentle kiss on your head.

“She’s pretty.” You mumbled into the cold pillow, grasping it in your hands. Jason sighed, knowing this conversation would end up happening one way or another.

“Whose the girl that I let sleep in my bed everyday and steal every single clothing item I own?” He teased, making you smile into the pillow. You knew he was right.

“But—”

“But nothing. I love you, and only you.” He assured, pulling you into him as he wrapped his arms around you tightly. You cuddled into his chest, grasping his shirt in your hands.

“I love you too, Jase.” You yawned.

“I know angel.”

#jason dilaurentis #jason dilaurentis x reader #pll #pretty little liars #imagine #spencer hastings #light angst #aria montgomery #hanna marin #emily fields #alison dilaurentis #cece drake

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janeyseymour · 2 months

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Won't You Be... My Neighbor?- pt 4

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.

super quick installment because @schemmentis wants the torture to drag on despite her claiming none of this is her fault

Summary: Joe shows up.

WC: 1.1k

(this gif is exactly what mel wishes she would've done to joe but doesnt)

Your eyes jump open at the woman’s earpiercing scream. And when they open, Joe is standing over top of the two of you.

“What the fuck?!” he screams as he winds up his bat again. Melissa raises her arms in self-defense, but its futile when the metal bat still comes into contact with her body and she yelps out in pain again. She falls to the floor, and before you can get up, the bat is hitting you too. You refuse to show any signs of pain or weakness though.

“You divorce me for fucking around with the babysitter, only for me to find you fucking your lawyer the day our divorce is finalized?!” he slurs out. His bat comes down on her a few more times while you’re still hissing in pain, and you swear you can hear her ribs crack as he delivers the final blow to her body.

Melissa lays there, clutching at her ribs and gasping out for air. And then he’s swinging at you again.

In reality, the two of you should be able to fend him off. Being snuck up on and jolted out of your dreaming state though makes it much harder as you try to blink away the sleep in your eyes while also trying to defend yourself and hissing out in pain from the first strike.

“G-get JJ,” Melissa croaks out, not even bothering to fight the pain at this point as she cries freely.

Almost in an instant, your eyes and Joe’s go wide, and you both race for the bedrooms. You’re faster than him, of course you are. He’s drunk, and you are stone cold sober and running on adrenaline at the mention of the innocent little boy hopefully still sleeping peacefully (although you’re not sure how he could possibly still be sleeping with his mother’s loud cries). Speed doesn’t matter though. Even with you trying to wrestle the bat out of his hands as you enter the hall, he’s able to strike you- once in the side, and once in the knee. At the blow to the knee, you stumble and fall.

He’s able to get ahead of you, and he violently whips the door to his son’s bedroom open. He snatches the little boy from his bed harshly enough that JJ wakes up with a small cry.

“Shut the fuck up,” the grown man seethes. “Shut the fuck up!”

He stumbles out into the hallway, where you’ve just managed to pick yourself up off the ground. At the sight of that sweet little boy that has wormed his way into your heart, you see red. You never understood those stories that you would hear about adrenaline taking over and being able to do things that shouldn’t be possible, but here you are. There’s a fire in your eyes as you wrestle JJ out of the arms of a man who is easily double your size and cradle him as closely to your chest as you possibly can. You’re able to stumble your way into the bathroom and lock the door before Joe can get to you again.

“Y/N,” JJ cries as he clings to you, absolutely terrified. “Is this a nightmare? Why can’t I wake up?!”

“It’s real life, honey,” you whisper as you lean against the door. “But I have you, and you’re going to be okay, and your father can’t-” There’s a force against the door, and it shakes you where you stand pressed up against the piece of wood. “He can’t get to us,” you say quickly. You glance at the window. You’re on the second floor, and if it were just you, you would fly through it and deal with the injuries later. But with JJ? You don’t know if you can do that. You don’t know which option is safer at this point- flying through a second story window with a four year old cradled to your chest, or facing the wrath of a drunk and belligerent man hellbent on getting his son back.

Before you can decide though, he comes crashing through the door. Apparently his adrenaline is flowing now too in the haste to get to his son. You fight with him tooth and nail to keep that little boy in your arms, but when Joe throws a mean right hook that collides with your jaw, your grip loosens just enough for the man to grab JJ. Unfortunately, the little boy still has his arms clasped tightly around your neck, and when Joe pries him off, you can see the way that his shoulder pops out of its socket. The blood curdling scream that the youngest Schemmenti lets out is forever embedded in your head. The man is able to throw another punch at you, successfully temporarily stopping you from fighting with all your might just enough to get a head start on you. And then, Joe is off.

With the absolute searing pain now very apparent in your leg, you do your best to run after him, but by the time you make your way out the front door, you see his car peeling away with that little boy inside.

Defeated, you hobble your way back into the apartment complex. You wonder how no one on your floor had woken at the commotion. When you get back to Melissa’s her door is wide open, and she’s still laying there on the floor clutching at where Joe had struck her. Despite the pain rippling through your body, you kneel down next to her.

“Please,” she whispers through tears. “Please tell me you got JJ.”

You shake your head. “Joe has him. But I’m going to call 9-1-1, I’m going to tell them he broke and entered, we need an ambulance for you, and that an amber alert needs to go out on JJ.”

“I- I’m going to kill him,” Melissa hisses as she tries to sit up.

You gently push her back down to the floor. “You need to stay down while I make calls.”

It doesn’t take long for you to rattle off the necessary information to the call center, and when you come back, Melissa is still lying there gripping at her side.

“They’re coming,” you whisper as you sit down next to her. “They already have cops combing the area for him. He’s not going to get away with this.”

“He might,” the redhead groans out. “The motherfucker knows his way around.”

“He isn’t getting away with it this time,” you promise her. “And when they catch him, he’s never coming back.”

TAGS, and let me know if you want to be added! : @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson

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

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clarkgriffon · 6 months

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fashion in rosewood in every episode → hot water (3x20)

#plledit #pll #pretty little liars #creations #FashionInRosewood #spencer hastings #aria montgomery #emily fields #hanna marin #ashley marin #ella montgomery #melissa hastings #cece drake #paige mccullers

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giflxndia · 2 months

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#spencer hastings #melissa hastings #troian bellisario #torrey devitto #pretty little liars #pll #spencer x melissa #melissa x spencer #plledit #gif #gifset #tv #series #3x04

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lavendercharm · 4 months

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Linger, Chapter 1: She's So Mean

Summary: From the moment you meet her, you can't stand Melissa Schemmenti.

Warnings: Strong Language

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You’ve always been one to go above and beyond. Whether it was because you were truly an ambitious go-getter, or because it was actually rooted in a deep-seated fear of letting others down, who can say? What mattered was you were reliable. You did your best to stay organized and on top of things, despite the fact that you struggled with it. You thrived when it came to creative problem-solving. And you were never, ever late.

At least, that’s the mantra you repeated to yourself as you mentally practiced the apology you’d be giving Abbott Elementary’s principal. Glancing at the watch on your wrist as you burst through the front door, you curse under your breath. Arriving almost a full 45 minutes later than you were supposed to was not the way to make the first impression you wanted. You’d been a bundle of nerves the night before, prepping the following day’s lunch as much as possible. You’d made a concerted effort to get to bed at a decent hour, you’d laid out your “first day subbing at a new school” outfit, and you’d even set a few different alarms in order to prevent this exact situation.

It might have slipped your attention that the alarms you’d set were actually for the PM.

The surge of adrenaline when you’d seen 7:02 AM blinking back at you from the digital clock on your bedside table as you woke was more effective than any cup of coffee. You were barely finished dressing before you were out the front door with your shoulder bag in tow - hair piled in an unkempt mess on your head and makeup, socks, and half-prepped lunch forsaken in your haste.

Mercifully, most subs had pre-planned lessons to follow, so you didn’t have to worry about throwing off your student’s schedules too much today. But seeing as this was your first day at Abbott, you weren’t familiar with the building layout. Even worse, you’d never met the principal, which means you have no idea what kind of reaction to expect in regard to your tardiness.

You knew students started to arrive at Abbott at 7:30 for an 8 o’clock start to the day, and you’d been instructed to arrive no later than 7:15. You looked up from your watch to get your bearings in the unfamiliar environment. Just up the hall from the doors you entered, you saw an office with glass walls and what looked like a check in area where there stood a tall, stunning black woman.

She was dressed stylishly, shockingly so for someone who works in an elementary school. A form-fitting olive green dress hugged her curves, which were emphasized by the large brown belt around her waist. Her hair was long and looked right from a salon, her nails meticulously cared for. She wore red lipstick and her eye makeup could easily be seen on the cover of a magazine. Her face was buried in her phone, so she hadn’t noticed you enter the building. You approached her, your hectic morning creating a distinctly frazzled air around you.

You felt silly and underdressed standing next to her, your normally put-together appearance ditched in favor of time. You silently thanked your past self for having the foresight to lay out your clothes for the day. Even still, your plain black work trousers, white button-down, and sneakers felt distinctly out of place next to this woman. As you stood there, she didn’t look up from her phone.

Unsure what else to do, after a moment you made yourself known by clearing your throat. Without looking up from her phone, a single, sculpted brow raised in question, followed by a short, “What do you want?”

Taken aback, you stuttered, “I-I, uh, I’m the principal- I mean, I’m looking for the principal.” You felt heat rising in your cheeks at your mistake. ‘Good one,’ you thought.

At least your slip-up gained you some ground. The woman lowered her phone and glanced at you, giving you a once-over from head to toe. “What do you want with the principal? If you’re here to complain about something, you’ll have to send it in an email or Instagram DM, she’s on vacation.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach - the principal wasn’t even here? You weren’t sure if Abbott had a vice principal. You were already late, you didn’t know where you were supposed to go, and you weren’t sure if the vaguely-unfriendly woman in front of you would be able to help.

“Oh, actually I’m a sub-” you started.

You were cut off by a loud, “Oh! Well, why didn’t you say so? Why are you dressed like a waiter?”

You frowned. She was right. You did look like a waiter.

You were stunned as the woman’s entire demeanor changed. A large smile graced her features as she held out her hand. “Ava Coleman, principal of Abbott Elementary.” You stared at the outstretched hand before taking it, your eyebrows furrowed.

“Wait, did you just lie to my face about being on vacation?”

“Usually when someone introduces themself, you’re supposed to do it back. Unless you’re like Leo DiCaprio levels of famous, obviously,” she prompts you, entirely ignoring your question.

You give her your name, overwhelmed by the whirlwind that has been this morning and the whiplash of the woman’s sudden change in attitude. “Nice to meet you,” Ava says with a glowing smile as she releases your hand. “You know you’re late, right?”

You nod, rubbing the back of your neck sheepishly. All things considered, Ava didn’t seem upset, or even remotely reprimanding, for that matter. She might as well have been asking about the weather she was so nonchalant. Having braced yourself for a lecture or a raised voice, you found yourself feeling just the slightest bit relieved. “I’m sorry about that. This isn’t… it’s not the norm for me, I promise. It won’t happen again.”

“Girl, I am not pressed,” Ava says, brushing off your apology with a wave of her hand. “At least you showed up at all. Trying to get a sub lately has been like trying to get Taylor Swift tickets - a whole lot of waiting just to find out there aren’t any left.” She gives a cheesy grin at her own joke, not waiting for you to react before continuing, “You’ll actually be with another teacher. Her aide has appendicitis, she’s out for at least the next week and a half.”

You were surprised, not unpleasantly so. You’d expected to have your own room, but there were plus sides to subbing in for teaching aides. “Oh, okay. That will be good actually, I can get a feel for things and watch how she runs her class, maybe ask her for pointers,” you state as you start to follow Ava down the hall.

Ava glances back at you, a look you can’t quite discern in her eye. “Uh, yeah,” she said, entirely unconvincing. “I’m sure she’d love to share pointers. She’s been a teacher here for a long time, so she does stuff a certain way.”

Ava’s words reignite some of the anxiety you’d felt starting to dissipate. You thought having another teacher to lead the class and watch would be a good thing, but Ava is making it seem like this teacher would be difficult. You’d had plenty of old, strict, mean teachers as a student. When you first started subbing, you’d met a teacher at another school who went through teaching aides like Duracell batteries. She’d been in the same school for well over 35 years, so it was essentially her way or the highway. She was so strict and particular, most people ended up taking the highway.

Ava stopped at a door on the right side of the hall, and as she pulled the door open, you heard a chorus of tiny voices say, “Good morning Miss Schemmenti!” At least you’d managed to make it before any actual instruction began.

Popping her head in the room, you heard Ava say, “Melissa, you got a sub today.” A ripple of ‘oohs’ and giggles spread throughout the class. Kids were always interested in a new face.

“Oh really?” came a dulcet voice with the strongest Philly accent you’d heard in a minute. It was tinged with incredulity and annoyance. “A sub who can’t be bothered to show up on time?”

Your stomach churned with anxiety and shame, but you felt a slight spike of annoyance as well. You suppose you couldn’t blame her, but you hadn’t even met this woman yet. You pushed these feelings aside as best you could as Ava replied, “You’re lucky you got a sub at all girl. I didn’t have to put her in your class. You’re welcome!” Stepping aside, she gestures you into the room.

The first thing you notice is the sheer amount of kids crammed into one room. There’s a division in the center and one side seems to be slightly older. The confusion must be evident on your face, because Ava chimes in, “We lost a third-grade teacher last minute and we couldn’t afford another one, so we combined a second and third grade class. You get two for one! I love a good deal myself.” Her joke doesn’t land.

Two grades in one room was really unconventional. How could both classes be receiving the right instruction? You couldn’t wrap your brain around it. Either the second graders had to be feeling left behind, or the third graders were learning the same things they’d learned last year. Not to mention the number of kids presented a challenge itself. ‘There have to be close to thirty kids in this room!’ you thought.

The velvety voice from before chimed in, “You could at least try not to look overwhelmed. Jeez, how old are you anyway, kid? I’m not gonna be able to tell the difference between you and the students.” Some small giggles echoed around the room as you turned.

Whatever you had been expecting, this woman was not it. ‘Is everyone working in this school hot?’ you grimaced to yourself as your eyes took in the gorgeous red-headed woman who stood before you. She was older, which in your mind only enhanced her beauty. She was a few inches taller than you, although you noticed the heeled boots she wore. Her deep red hair was luscious, with soft waves begging to have fingers combed through them. A single eyebrow was raised and a decidedly unimpressed expression graced her face, a dusky rose color painting her pursed cupid's bow lips. Her nose was soft yet prominent - it suited her immensely. Her eyes were slightly close-set, a captivating green-hazel color. They were rimmed with a subtle smokey shadow that made them pop.

She had on a long-sleeved black shirt and a few necklaces decorated her collarbones. But what caught your attention most were the leather pants that clung tightly to her soft hips.

You’d always been a sucker for a woman in leather.

“You gonna acknowledge me or not? Do I need to get you a copy of the lesson plan, or a coloring sheet?” She asked, hands on her cocked hips. Another ripple of giggles ricocheted throughout the room. Your cheeks flame with embarrassment. You were used to being teased about your height and young appearance by people you knew, not by strangers using it as a way to question your position at work.

Feeling a surge of indignation and annoyance, you opened your mouth before you could stop yourself and shot back, “I’m 28 years old - how old are you?”

A loud chorus of “Ooooh!” from the class, and in a split-second, you knew you’d fucked up.

A fire ignited behind Melissa’s eyes, her eyebrows coming together and her weight shifting forward. Her posture was rigid, coiled like a rattlesnake, ready to strike at any moment. Her nostrils flared as she bit out, “I’m none-of-your-business years old.” Her tone was dangerous and sharp. The class waited with bated breath to see what you’d do. Would the new sub start a fight with Miss Schemmenti? The tension in the air could be cut with a knife.

You heard, “Neither of you swing before I start recording!” from Ava.

Your heart was rattling inside your chest. ‘And I thought being late would be enough to make the wrong first impression.’ But you didn’t feel sorry for what you said. It wasn’t fair for her to be so critical. If she wanted to play the age card, then you’d meet her where she was at. She had no right to belittle you, even if you were less experienced.

You decided then and there that you didn’t like Melissa Schemmenti.

But you needed to get past this - you both had a class to teach, after all. Standing your ground, you managed to hold her gaze as you said evenly, “If you would be so kind as to point me to my desk? I believe we have a school day to start.” You were immensely proud that your voice didn’t tremble, despite the way your pulse thrummed in your ears.

Glaring at you for a moment longer, you knew you’d live to see another day when Melissa shifted her weight back again, arms folding across her chest. 'Her well-endowed chest,' you thought. You immediately chastised yourself. You needed to get a grip. This was your workplace and you should be keeping things professional, although that had almost gone out the window already. Even if she was alarmingly hot, she’d disrespected you without so much as a “hello.” The woman had been ready to tear you limb from limb a moment ago, and not in a sexy way.

Melissa tilted her head with a pointed look toward the back corner of the room, and you glanced over to see a small desk. You met her gaze once more and muttered a “Thank you.” But as you started to turn, you realized neither she nor the class knew your name. Stopping, you introduced yourself, instinctively holding out a hand.

It occurred to you how incredibly awkward it was to offer to shake the hand of the woman you’d just slighted, and you’re thankful you can write off the heat still lingering on your cheeks as your temper.

For a moment, she stared disdainfully at your proffered hand, but she sent a furtive glance toward the class and a look of realization passed over her face - her students had been watching all of this unfold. Maybe she wanted to set a good example, or maybe she just wanted to move on, but she took your hand begrudgingly. Her grip was a bit too tight. “Miss Schemmenti,” she said, and you noted the lack of a first name. Her teeth were gritted behind a strained smile. The flash in her eyes made the message clear. You are not on my good side.

Ava made a disapproving sound. “Man, I thought I was gonna get something good,” she said, and you caught the light glinting off of what you suspect was her phone camera as she turned and walked away.

You released Melissa's hand and retreated to the back of the room. As you deposited your things on what was now your desk, Melissa began, “Alright my little cannolis, enough dilly-dallying. Shawnte, will you please help me pass out these math sheets?” Her irritation was masked impeccably behind a practiced teacher's voice as she split a stack of papers with a small girl from the third-grade side of the room.

You exhaled deeply. It was only 8:15 and you’d managed to make your first enemy at Abbott. Unpacking your things, you found you couldn’t resist watching Melissa as she made her way around the room. You didn't consider yourself quick to anger, but somehow this woman had managed to piss you off in a matter of minutes. And you were supposed to spend at least the next week and a half with her?

As she passed by you, her eyes shot up and briefly made contact with yours. You felt the heat of her glare piercing into you. It seems she couldn’t resist another pointed comment on your tardiness. “Maybe tomorrow, you could get here on time and do your job, so I don’t have to ask a student to help pass out papers.”

This was going to be a long week.

#melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #all of the chapter titles are named after songs that I listened to while writing this #and i think Melissa fits she's so mean by matchbox twenty #“she's got a hard time coming when she can't hit back; yeah you want her but she's so mean” like come on!!!#Spotify

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