#Lessons in Purgatory | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

spider-stark · 1 year ago

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LADY STRONG

Benjicot Blackwood x Velaryon/Strong!Reader

Summary - Stuck in the Riverland's on a marriage tour, you pretend to be Lady Strong when Benjicot Blackwood doesn't recognize you as the Princess of the Seven Kingdoms

Warnings - none except not edited!!

Word Count - 3.1k

!MINORS DNI!

// masterlist // send me your thoughts // comments & reblogs appreciated! //

As if the prospect of a marriage tour was not horrid enough, your first stop was proving to be positively dreadful.

You had imagined the lands surrounding the Trident to be beautiful. A lush, verdant landscape—filled with fragrant herbs and bright, blooming flowers, painting the Riverlands in rich, colorful hues. You pictured babbling streams and plush grass, stunning castles and, perhaps, some equally as stunning men.

What you hadn’t imagined, however, was the weather.

Even from within the confines of Riverrun—the ancestral castle of House Tully—you still feel the effects of the merciless heat beating down upon the sandstone walls.

Your handmaids had tried to dress you accordingly, stuffing you into your thinnest—and, consequently, your least regal—gown, in hopes that it might prevent sunstroke. Yet still, even as three of Lord Tully’s own servants try fanning you while you sulk in the dining hall, you feel as though every inch of your body is drenched in sticky sweat.

“This is miserable,” you groan to Ser Lorent, the Kingsguard who had been assigned to your tour. Flanking your right, you spare the knight a pitiful, sidelong glance. “I believe I would sooner die a spinster than be forced to live in this sweltering purgatory!”

The servants, haphazardly positioned around the table, remain utterly stone-faced, not letting on if they found your comment about their homelands to be humorous or offensive.

Ser Lorent merely laughs. “The Riverlands are known for their humid summers, princess.” With a wink, he adds, “If you ever bothered with your studies, you would know this.”

“I study!”

“With the blade, perhaps,” Ser Lorent muses, his teal eyes twinkling with lighthearted mockery. “But certainly not with books, princess.

Rolling your eyes, you slump further into your chair, your body practically melting into the upholstery. “Leave the geography lessons to Jace,” you tell him, waving an idle hand. “After all, he's the heir to the Iron Throne. I am merely the prized broodmare—” focusing on your plate, and the half-eaten lunch upon it, you try swallowing the bitter tang now filling your mouth—“a royal womb to be sold off to the highest bidder.”

And, at times, you aren’t even sure if that is considered an honest truth… You’ve certainly never felt royal.

Like your brothers, you were born extraordinarily plain-featured. With no silver hair or lilac eyes, you appear more like a common-born peasant than someone of prized Valyrian stock—and it didn’t help that, unlike your brothers, you had no dragon, either.

Ser Lorent watches as you absently push a piece of seared cod around your plate, sighing. “That isn’t true, my princess.” His words are tinged with sympathy. “You are being sold to no one. Your mother wishes for you to have a marriage born of love—not duty.”

“Ah, yes,” stabbing the fish with the prongs of your fork, you bring it to your lips, “which is why I’m being forced to spend my summer meeting with the haughty sons of fat country lords—for love.”

His tongue clicks with disapproval. “Your mother has given you a choice in selecting your own husband, princess; which is a luxury not granted to many women.”

Frowning, you pop the piece of fish into your mouth, turning his words over in your head.

Gods.

You hate it when he’s right.

“Fine,” you relent, still chewing. Turning sideways in your chair, you raise your fork to him in a mock threat, “But my earlier statement stands! If I must take a husband, then it certainly won’t be anyone from here—lest I become no more than a puddle of sweat.”

Ser Lorent cracks a smile at you. “Should you turn to a puddle, princess, then I vow to mop you from the floor.”

“How valiant of you, Ser Lorent,” you laugh. “I’m unsure of how I might ever repay you for such loyalty.”

“I’m not sure you have to worry about that, princess—I don’t believe that puddles are much concerned with matters of debt.”

Turning back to the table, another soft laugh spills from your lips. “I suppose you’re right, Ser.”

All too soon, however, your amusement begins to fade. A warm breeze blows in through the many open windows lining Riverrun’s dining hall, the stifling air only accentuating the stickiness of your skin.

Sucking in a deep, heavy breath, you ask, “How long do we have?”

Ser Lorent doesn’t ask for clarification, knowing almost at once what you were asking him. “We’re expected back in the Great Hall in a little under an hour, princess.”

You blow the breath out, groaning slightly.

An hour—that's all the time you had left before you would be forced back upon the dais, expected to once again smile and be cordial as men and boys from all across the Riverlands made their case for your hand.

How many of them could possibly be left? This morning alone you had met with dozens upon dozens of them, their voices all blurring into a monotonous hum as they spoke of the history of their Houses—if one can consider nonsensical legends from the ancient Age of Heroes as true history, that is.

Noticing the dreadful pall cast over you, Ser Lorent clamps a comforting hand on your shoulder. “How about a walk before we go back? It might help to clear your head,” he suggests. Then, with a wry grin, “Perhaps you might wish to think back on the men from this morning—see if any of them might make you change your tune about life in the Riverlands.”

You pin him with a playful scowl. “There’s not a man alive that could change that tune,” you vow. “But you’re right—a walk might be nice.”

Rising from your seat, the servants around you lower their fans, silently dismissing themselves.

“Will you be accepting my company on this walk?” Ser Lorent teases—though you know what he’s really asking is: will you be accepting my protection.

“After this morning, I believe I’ve had enough company for a lifetime.”

The knight’s brow draws tight, an apprehensive frown beginning to pull at the corners of his lips. You roll your eyes.

“Oh, don’t worry so much, Ser Lorent. It gives you wrinkles,” you tease. Adjusting the slit running along one side of your dress, you reveal the dagger holstered on your thigh. “I assure you that if any of these Riverlanders dare lay a hand on me, they’ll lose some fingers.”

Ser Lorent snorts, head shaking. “It’s not you I worry about, princess,” he jokingly admits. “Just stay close by, understand? Your mother will have my head if anything happens to you.”

“Yes, yes—understood,” you dramatically gripe, already walking past him to the exit.

“Oh, and princess?” He calls out just as the guards pull the doors open for you to leave. You glance over your shoulder at him, brows lifted. “At least try not to injure anyone.”

With one last roll of your eyes, bright with mischief, you shout on your way out, “No promises, Ser Lorent!”

Wandering through the outer yards of Riverrun, the blistering sun beating down upon your skin, you find yourself overwhelmed by a sudden ache in your chest.

You miss home. Desperately.

You miss Dragonstone’s near-constant cover of clouds, forever shielding you from the heat. You miss the cool breeze rolling in off the Blackwater, the air peppering your cheeks with salty kisses.

But even as you dream of a reprieve from the muggy Riverlands, you can’t help but miss your family—your brothers—most of all.

Perhaps it is that feeling that led you here, to the training yard, guided by the familiar lull of splintering wood and steel slicing through the air, the sound offering a much-needed remedy to the homesickness twisting in your gut.

Smaller than the one at Dragonstone, Riverrun’s yard was no more than a cramped stretch of dusty-dirt, lined with old training dummies and archery targets. Mostly encircled by the towering sun-bleached stones of the castles, only a small part of the yard remained open to the sprawling gardens beyond, sectioned off by ornate iron fencing.

Striding over the open gate, your attention falls upon the lone boy standing in the yard's center.

As the sunlight beats down overhead, long shadows dance around his feet as he glides through a set of movements—each step calculated, every strike deliberate.

You step closer, keeping your steps light as you approach. With his back turned to you, you watch as sweat drips down his neck, glistening. It soaks into his tunic, the thin black material clinging to his lean, muscled back.

He’s talented—you think, studying his form.

Talent is something you're familiar with—intimately. You were raised around warriors—trained by the Rogue Prince himself. Yet never before had you found yourself so utterly bewitched by a fighter.

He didn’t move like other boys.

He wasted no time on the flowery style displayed by so many summer children—the ones who thought of battle as a performance rather than a matter of life or death.

Instead, he moved with the lethal prowess of an apex predator—his blade cutting through the air with a controlled ferocity that, while lacking the flourish of other warriors, was undeniably impressive.

Dirt flies as he throws himself into another set of movements—a series of strikes and parries, executing with unbelievable precision. With every twist and pivot, muscles tense and shift beneath his tunic, his body as powerful a weapon as his sword.

He lunges forward—and wood cracks! as he slashes his blade along the belly of one of the dummies, a move that would have disemboweled a living opponent.

Cutting through the sudden stillness, you bring your hands up to your chest, filling the yard with a slow clap. Back still turned to you, the boy's spine goes ramrod straight at the unexpected sound.

“Impressive,” you muse, taking another step towards him. Mere feet remain between the two of you, now. “You move well—better than most, I’d say.”

The boy spins around to face you, his once elegant movements now blundering as he nearly trips over his own feet. Biting your tongue, you try to hold in a laugh.

Big, storm-cloud eyes meet your gaze, pinning you in place as he blinks, visibly thrown-off by your presence. “Sorry-” he stammers, out of breath. “I didn’t think anyone else would be coming out here-”

You lift a hand, cutting him off with a smile. “Oh, no—don’t apologize on my account! I enjoyed the show,” you tell him. “Seems that you have a real talent for swordplay.”

His cheeks flush, his lightly sun-kissed skin turning a stark crimson. “Thanks.” His laugh is a nervous, awkward thing—endearing, too. He sticks a hand out towards you, the other still limply holding his sword. “Benjicot. Blackwood,” he introduces himself, fumbling over his words, “but you can call me Ben or Benji—or anything, really.”

You take his hand, biting your lip to mask your amusement. “Pleasure to meet you, Benji.”

A beat of silence passes before confusion finally tugs at his features, his hand falling back to his side. “Uhm—” another sweet, awkward laugh— “and you are…?”

Realization dawns on you, leaving your brows to shoot up to your hairline.

Seven Hells. He doesn't know, does he?

A sudden speechlessness grabs hold of your tongue.

You suppose you shouldn’t be surprised—after all, you aren't what many expected of a Targaryen princess.

Plain-featured and dressed in thin, common clothes, you imagine you likely appear no different than the servants surrounding you at lunch, fanning you to keep the heat from going to your head.

Even so, it's rare that you met someone who doesn't know who you are. And, selfishly, after a morning filled with insincere compliments from haughty Lord’s, you like the idea of remaining nameless—titleless—for the first time in your life.

“Wow—sorry—that was thoughtless of me, wasn’t it?” Tapping a finger to your temple, you laugh. “I’m Mylissa,” you lie, stealing the name of one of your handmaidens. “Mylissa Strong.”

“Strong?” He echoes, brow furrowing. “Strange—you don’t sound like you’re from the Riverlands. Your accent is—”

“Southern?”

Benji nods.

“Well, I’ve spent the better part of my life in the Crownlands, so I suppose I’ve picked up their accent,” you explain. “I’m here with the princess, actually—as her lady-in-waiting.”

The mention of the princess—you—turns his skin a pasty white.

Keeping a tight leash on your curiosity, you try not to sound too intrigued when you ask, “And what about you? Raventree Hall is a decent ride from here, is it not?” On horseback, the ancestral seat of House Blackwood was two days away from Riverrun, if not three. “Are you here to meet with the princess?”

Benji shifts his weight, leaning from one foot to the other. “Supposed to,” he begins, his words tumbling out, “but I don’t know—I’m not so sure that I’ll go through with it.”

Your expression falters, disappointment washing over you like a cold wave, combatting the intolerable warmth of the sun.

“Why not?”

He shrugs—a timid, shy gesture that feels so unlike the predator you had snuck up on. “There are over a hundred men in there,” he waves an arm to the castle, to the Great Hall within, “all waiting for an opportunity to impress the princess—meanwhile, I can hardly get out a single sentence without choking on my own spit.”

Your laughter bubbles up involuntarily, a few giggles spilling past your lips. The Blackwood boy shoots you a playful glare from beneath long, dark lashes.

“Well,” you begin, absentmindedly toeing the dirt between you, “perhaps the princess might find it endearing, don’t you think?”

Benji scoffs. “Doubtful. I mean, think about it!—she’s a princess!”

Your eyes widen, glimmering with mock-offense. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

Once again, that crimson tinge returns to his skin, crawling up his neck, this time.

“I meant no offense,” he defends himself, mistaking your expression for one of a Lady meaning to defend her princess. “But what could I possibly offer a princess?”

You tilt your head, pretending to think on his words. “Well, the Blackwoods do have a history of being valiant warriors, do they not? And you seem to be quite skilled yourself,” you say, daring to let your stare drift down to his arms, the short sleeves of his tunic revealing well-muscled, sweat-slick biceps.

He snorts. “I’m willing to guess that the princess would likely care naught for my skill with a sword.”

“Then you would guess wrong,” you retort, a faint, teasing smile on your lips. “Many say that the princess herself is quite skilled with a blade—I imagine she would quite like a boy that’s capable of challenging her.”

Benji’s eyes darken a shade, an unreadable expression crossing his features. “And what about you, Mylissa?”

The false name catches you off-guard, but you do your best to hide it.

“What of me?”

A bit nervous, he asks, “Would you like a boy that can challenge you?”

Your heart stutters in your chest—skipping several beats as his stare lowers, dipping past your waist and falling upon your thigh. On the dagger sheathed there, no doubt.

Heat begins to crawl up your neck, hotter even than the sun's blistering rays. “Oh—” You stutter, words lost upon you.

It’s true that you were used to the attention of men. After all, your morning has been filled with it, and soon enough the rest of your day will be, too.

But this was different.

Benji wasn’t giving you attention because you’re a princess, a mere royal womb to strengthen his House’s bloodline. Rather, he was doing it simply because he wanted to—a feeling that was utterly foreign to you.

Wiping a clammy hand on his sweaty tunic, Benji misreads your silence, taking a half-step back. “Apologies, my Lady—that was too forward and-”

You don’t let him finish his rambling. Taking a step forward, you close the gap he sought to create between you. “I’ll make you a deal.”

“A deal?”

You nod. “As you know, the princess will be in the Great Hall for the rest of the evening, holding court with the other Lord’s who’ve come for her hand. I'd like for you to meet with her.”

Benji cocks his head, confusion crinkling the corners of his eyes. “I truly mean no disrespect to your princess, my Lady, but I was asking if you might be interested in–”

“I know what you’re asking, Benji.” You lift one shoulder in a casual shrug. “And after you meet with the princess, if you still wish to inquire about my hand,” you say, placing a palm to your chest, “then I will happily hear you out.”

In the distance, a bell sounds out—signaling the time, you realize.

“If you’ll excuse me,” you start, already taking a few small half-steps backwards. “I’m expected inside.”

Letting his sword drop to the ground, Benji lunges forward to catch your wrist. “So you agree to meet with me after court, then?”

“If you’re still interested,” you muse, a tinge of anxiety laced through your tone, “then yes.”

The corners of his lips twitch into a bashful smile. “I give you my word that–”

You planned to interrupt him. To tell him not to make oaths he wasn’t certain he could keep, knowing that he may very well change his mind about you once he realizes who you are—that you’re not technically a Strong. But, before you can, another voice intervenes.

“Princess!” Ser Lorent calls out, exasperated, as he walks through the gate. “We must hurry, princess,” he continues, pausing only to give a wary glance at Benji’s hands wrapped around your wrist. “We’re late.”

Your pulse begins to pound, a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins at being exposed as a liar by Ser Lorent.

Benji’s face goes blank—then his eyes go wide, big as saucers as you snag your wrist from his grip.

“Princess...” He utters, voice laden with disbelief. “Princess?!”

You can hardly bring yourself to do anything other than grin stupidly at him, nearly stumbling over yourself as you back-up to where Ser Lorent is waiting impatiently.

“It was lovely meeting you, Benji!”

You hope he can hear just how genuine your words are.

“I’ll see you in the Great Hall,” you call out over your shoulder, sparing him one last glance as Ser Lorent guides you to the gate, watching as he blinks in astonishment, still processing the revelation.

Walking back towards the inner-castle, Ser Lorent glances down at you with a knowing look. “You seem giddy.” There’s a teasing glint to his words that makes you roll your eyes, cheeks flushing. “So,” he continues, his brisk pace never faltering, “does this mean that your statement from lunch no longer stands? That, perhaps, this sweltering purgatory may yet grow on you?”

You bite your cheek, a permanent grin still etched onto your face.

“Let’s just say that I’ve decided it’s best to keep my options open, Ser Lorent.”

a/n - you may ask yourself: lainie, why would you refer to him as mostly BEN in the last fic and BENJI in this one??

and the answer? I have not ONE clue. my brain is rotting and benji is cute.

anyways, hope you guys enjoy this one! feel like I got to explore more of his personality here. additionally, I need HBO to know that if this boy ends up not being benjicot blackwood then I'm gonna fucking riot

benjicot blackwood tag list - @a-song-for-ages @ghostinvenus

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nugothrhythms · 9 months ago

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"Sacred Dread" by San Antonio, Texas-based deathrock act Lessons in Purgatory off of their 2024 album Morose Mūsēum

#deathrock #gothgoth #deathrocker #punk goth #Lessons in Purgatory #Sacred Dread #Morose Mūsēum #music #first share #2024 #San Antonio Texas #Texas goth #Texas deathrock #Southern goth #Southern deathrock #Bandcamp

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nocreativityfornames · 2 years ago

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MC: You know, it actually takes a lot longer than people think for someone to die from strangling.

Solomon: Oh? Well, that's...interesting. Did you read that on a book or something?

MC: Nah, it's from personal experience. 🙂

Solomon: ...

#oh how I love an unbothered mc who just casually likes to remind everyone that they died #omswd lesson 16 #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #omswd #omnb #obey me solomon #obey me mc #lesson 16 spoilers #obey me #om solomon #om purgatory hall #om mc #solomonposting #nocreativityfornames #500+

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nocreativityfornames · 2 years ago

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Now, I agree that Solomon would most likely win this fight. I mean, the fucker (affectionate) is immortal and has pacts with 72 different demons, with one of them being Asmo, Lucifer's brother who he can't at all fight against for purely "I'd rather have someone tear my every limb 9281 times over than see my family harmed" type of reasons coming from Mr. I'll sacrifice myself to protect my loved ones in a heartbeat over here.

However!! I gotta come to Lucifer's defense here because some people are using S3's "Tiny!Lucifer arc" (specifically lesson 47) as an argument to say that he'd easily lose to Solomon, which I don't really get because the reason Solomon was able to "overpower" Lucifer during that lesson was literally because Lucifer let him??

Like, the game couldn't have made it any clearer.

I mean, what happens is that Solomon puts a binding spell on Lucifer, which makes him pissed so he goes full demon form. And then Beel transforms as well because y'know, "protect the family" instincts, and Lucifer's response is:

Look at that annoying ass smirk, does this look like a man who's being overpowered by anything??

And then he says:

He knows this isn't anything he can't take, he fully has the power to break the spell. But you know why he doesn't?

Man looked fully ready to jump Solomon, but then MC's name is mentioned and poof, he stops.

Right, that's what he came here for, to help MC with their Sorcerer Exams. So he chooses to let it happen, for MC's sake, because he wants them to pass these exams and become a full-fledged sorcerer.

And so Lucifer leaves his demon form and lets Solomon turn him tiny!

Little bonus of Simeon learning about what happened:

!!!

Man doesn't even try to deny it, he just tells Simeon to shut up because can't bring himself to admit it in front of everyone. But yeah, dude cares so much about his chaotic mess of pact mate that he'll let himself look stupid and weak in front of others as long as it makes them happy/helps them somehow.

#I had to say it #but yeah solomon would totally beat him #unless it was a full on 1v1 and solomon couldn't summon any demons #which then I'm not really sure who'd win #btw going through that lesson having solomon and lucifer as favorites was hilarious #any interaction between these 2 is super entertaining to me actually #om lucifer #om solomon #om brothers #om purgatory hall #luciferposting #solomonposting #rb

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shadowthief78 · 2 years ago

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I think the funniest thing Revenant Reader could do is teach all his kouhai EXCEPT Gojo to drive. Shoko? Yeah just don't smoke while pumping gas. Geto? Keep both hands on the wheel and don't put your arm out the window. Haibara? Look at the road for heaven's sake and stop braking so suddenly. Nanami? Perfect student. Ichiji? Stop hesitating so much and actually dive at the speed limit. But Gojo? No amount of money is enough to make Reader get in a car controlled by that uninsured whiny bitch lmfao. Not happening.

#puffin says stuff #nobody but me cares about revenant reader but thats ok im writing this anyway.#whether it makes it out of wip purgatory remains to be seen #i did a lil digging and in japan you arent required to take an official driving school to get a license #its just a p common thing #but between curses and stuff idt any of the kids can attend regularly hahaha #yaga takes reader to lessons bc hes his legal guardian and he trickle down teaches everyone else except gojo #im just imagining gojo getting pulled over 'sir are you driving w a blindfold' 'i have superpowers its fine'

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rotagnus · 4 months ago

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love messages for you --<3

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wowww i personally have been having a confusing time in my love life and since i have a bunch of free time on my hands, i decided to do a reading to clear things up for not just me, but you guys too. i hope you enjoy <3 drink some tea/water, and take care of yourself.

six piles because i think the more specific you are in such readings, the better it is. this is my favorite reading i've done so far eeeee i'm so excited!

keep in mind love readings talk about all kinds of love!!

there's a poll at the bottom about what kind of readings you guys prefer! i would appreciate it if you voted 😊

pile 1.

the hermit; 10 of swords.

a cycle is ending for you guys. you've been in isolation for a while, and things have been going wrong for what seems to be forever. you're tired, and at this point, you're convinced that nobody can love you right except perhaps yourself. you've been working on your self-love, and valuing yourself at all moments of your life. you have this thing where you separate yourself, but you are your whole life, not moments. you are your whole life, not moments. read that as many times as you have to. you've been quiet, learning, and you've gained intense knowledge from this time within. you're probably not looking for love, not outright chasing it, but there's a pair of eyes on you. apples can be significant for someone specific here. you've been noticing how certain types of people reappear in your life to teach you lessons, and you're used to people leaving--however, some people are forever. don't worry. you're not always going to be subject to lessons--you are here to grow in strength, but that doesn't mean you can't have a little love while you're at it. you have had a feeling your whole life of not being seen, but the truth is that one day, someone will see you. but before that, you must see yourself. as i've said, someone already sees you. but you won't see nor understand that you are seen unless you do the work and look at yourself and who you really are. this pile has a big fear of being seen, and seeing themselves--you must work through this in order to get what you won't. this may sound rough, but the universe won't give you jackshit until you do the work.

signs: glasses. runways. budgies. oranges. pink roses. science/biology. white rabbits. ancestry. makeup blush.

song: anything -- adrianne lenker.

pile 2.

page of swords; 5 of pentacles.

you're a very sweet person, pile 2. you're bubbly and have rose-colored glasses, probably a very musical vision of how life goes. you're not necessarily a new soul, but you choose to be optimistic and hopeful regardless of the troubles you've been through. right now, you're in a state of frustration though--maybe you like someone and you're not quite sure how they feel for you, or your current relationship isn't going well, or someone's giving you mixed signals. i understand that you seek answers. you're a very answer/solution oriented person, and it frustrates you when you're in this purgatory. anora may be significant--(this movie is really good, i don't know why i feel it's important but it is). some of you may be struggling with financial aspects of your life, or you do work that's hard on your soul. however, my advice to your love life is to look within. yeah, it sounds cheesy, and probably not the answer you expected. but talk it out with someone. type it out, write it out, just so you know what you're dealing with. this person will stay as long as they must--if they're the right person, they're not going to leave. the right person is the right person for a reason. lean on your people, lean on your friends. everything's going to be alright. seek knowledge--you have everything you need to know. some of you may be very physically apt--good at yoga, dancing, weight-lifting, a certain sport. my random advice to you is to train this part of you. i'm not sure why, but i think that it could heal a part of you that's been aching. if you don't have any physical hobbies, i highly recommend you get some. for this specific pile, it is special.

signs: slavic languages/countries. short hair. connection to God. opposites attract. 19. silver rings. cookies. red hearts. braille. stuffed animals.

song: rinsed -- dean blunt.

pile 3.

7 of cups; 9 of swords; 6 of swords.

wow i had to pull 3 cards for you, pile 3. and we've got 9 and 6 of swords, so the number 3 may be significant. right now, you may have a roster or simply many options that you're torn apart on. you're not sure what you want, what you need, what you deserve...you're lost.stuck, similarly to pile 2. however, do not fear; your situation is not as dire as theirs. you're on a journey, and the sky is clearing up; you'll figure out what the right thing is, for most of you a person. you're a baddie but you struggle with your self-image, not just how you look (although i assure you, that you have a glow everyone sees) but also who you are as a person. you judge your morals and you judge your personality and baby, you've got to stop worrying. you have a lot of repetitive thoughts that you can't turn off. i highly recommend this pile to meditate, or do yoga--please, for the love of all things good. do something to clear this situation up. the answer you're seeking is coming, but you've been having this sense of things not being real or things being too real, but it's coming. it's going to come regardless of if you want it or not. so right now, focus on working on yourself. eat good food. learn a new recipe. paint. have a self-care day. it's gonna come to you. i promise.

signs: deer. night. cars. chest/breast area. tea. radio. statues. song lyrics. 8. union. unique features.

song: i want you to love me -- fiona apple.

pile 4.

5 of cups; page of cups.

oh my goodness baby. you've got to pat yourself on the back. something very, very painful has happened to you recently. an earth-shattering event. a lot of grief is going on; maybe you feel like a part of yourself has died, maybe you've lost someone, maybe your faith. you're a very good, very pure person--you desire growth, and despite everything, you keep your head up. you have a wonderful heart, and you're sensitive but also brave. nature is significant to this pile--specifically water. it means change. lately, you've been experiencing a lot of synchronicities, let me guess. repetitive signs that mean something to you, but you don't want to overthink it. guess what? you're not. it's the truth. you have this tendency to doubt yourself, even though you've been right, like, a hundred percent of the time before. i assure you that the most valuable tool you have is your gut. it doesn't lie, not to you. it protects you, and i highly recommend that you please, PUH LEASE, listen to it. someone's coming towards you--for most, a friend that can turn out to be a lover. a pillar of support. i don't think most of you know this person as of now. they're very bright, and they contrast you; you guys are the sun and the moon. right now, you have to lay your burdens out in front of you, and let go, just for a moment. let yourself weep. let yourself feel everything. know that someone is coming to help you, but also know that you have the power to do it yourself. you're not weak. but that doesn't mean you have to do it all alone.

signs: not feeling heard. iris by pastel ghost. getting what you want. kitties/leopards. brazilian music. the present; the now. beautiful nails. pinterest. lotus flowers. fish.

song: easy lovers -- piero piccioni.

pile 5.

8 of pentacles; the world; the lovers.

i had to draw three cards for this pile, too, because y'all are confused and that confused me! do you guys even know anything right now? so many changes are on the horizon for you, and even now, your life is in a major shift. crows, ravens, and felines are significant. you guys are embracing a darker energy right now. shadow work is being done, and the universe sees how far you've gotten. soon, you'll be holding fruit in both your palms--you want growth and you're not taking no for an answer, and as a reward, the universe will give you good things. you'll have everything you want, the whole world in your hands. but you have to make sure you don't settle. focus on the journey--it is just as sweet as the ending. many of you have a mentality of if it's not happening now, it won't happen ever. that's not true...you guys do know that, right? these major changes haven't showed you their tails, and you're pulling at 'em, trying to see the ending. you're not meant to know everything, my dear impatient pile. everything is up to you; it's a big maybe. what you want you will get, but be warned--make wise choices. don't sacrifice your morals, faith, and desires just to settle. i think this card is focusing on growing existing connections...maybe situationships, or you like a friend. stop searching for endings, this journey is the most important thing right now. it's going to be a fond memory for you later on, and your damn lesson is to learn how to be patient and take baby steps and enjoy the now instead of racing to the future. you guys rush wayyyy too much. you gotta take a breath and relax. being fast isn't always a good thing. right now, be slow, even if it makes you mad. find other things to do in your time instead of catastrophizing; also, stop having a doom complex. this isn't gonna end in disaster ;). poetry/writing may be significant for you guys. a lot of you dealt with a very hard childhood; many may have been parentified or the older sibling, carrying the whole family on their back. many people have this stigma that they're never going to be loved and that nobody would try to do anything for them. this is wrong, and you're gonna be proven wrong, dear. i promise you, you'll be fine--but for now, keep walking your path and taking your sweet time. change is near--kiss its hand when it arrives.

signs: leap of faith. kelp, seaweed. health. love is everywhere. dyed hair. real listening. 3. young love. the stars. morning light through curtains. sunrises.

song: love songs -- clairo.

pile 6.

8 of cups; the magician.

you guys are soooooo tired with bs. you're a clever cookie, and you know that you gotta leave. i know some of you guys are against it, and you wanna stay with this person/in this situation just a little bit longer, but the truth is you have to snap out of it. you already know this isn't good for you, and it just feels plain wrong, so you have to leave. let yourself feel upset, but know that you must go. acknowledge your thoughts--speaking to the moon may be significant for some of you. you're destined for greatness, and everybody knows it but you. you must let go and know, trust that better things are coming because they ARE. you're kinda blind, no offense, because you don't see that your manifestations are rightttt in front of you. but in order to get them, you have to leave this situation. you're the creator of your story. your intuition is always on point. you may listen to subliminals, just an inkling. and also, if you don't do any manifestation things, look in your life and see that you have everything you've wanted...although it may have come out skewed. manifest. think of what you want. tread carefully. you'll be okay. but you have to leave. you've been taught your whole life that you have to stay...because of blood, because of loyalty, and ever since you were young you held your chin up and stayed, endured, learned, but in the end, you still stayed. i know that it's hard unworking this pattern, baby; maybe you've worked on it in other lives, but the most important thing right now is to know that you can leave. you have the power. i wish you luck and if i could, i'd hug you right now. love is coming, but only if you walk towards it.

signs: mother. rest and recover. horses. medicine. lying down. the color pink. fields. duos/pairs. thunder/storms.

song: love me not -- ravyn lenae.

wow guys. that felt oddly relieving to write!! i hope you guys enjoy it as it's my most specific reading yet. i was wondering if you guys preferred my readings w three cards that are in depth, or these kind?

#rotagnus #love reading #pick a card #pick a pile #tarot reading #pac reading #pick a picture #tarotblr #intuitive reading #intuitive readings #divine guidance #intuition #intuitive guidance #tarot guidance

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shesgaymichaelscott · 23 days ago

Note

Hiii I love your work! I have a reader x Melissa request if you’re okay with that. Reader is pining after Melissa (who doesn’t know) but Mel (mutual pining?) is with the fire captain. Reader goes on a date to try to get over Mel but Melissa finds out about the date and gets jealous. Maybe Melissa sees them at a restaurant or Jacob spills the beans. Melissa is all cranky about it and reader finds out why. Something along those lines! Honestly I just love mutual pining hahaha

Captain Who?

(SO much mutual pining, idiots secretly in love, random first date, angst, eventual smut-at the v v end)

Word Count: 5.9k

taglist <3: @writerspirit @schemmentigfs

~ The first time you realized you had feelings for Melissa Schemmenti, it wasn't a thunderclap or an epiphany.

It was quieter than that—smaller.

She'd leaned into your classroom doorway, arms crossed over her chest in that easy, amused way of hers, and teased you about your bulletin board falling off the wall mid-lesson. You were still flustered, holding up the whole laminated solar system with both hands like Atlas in sensible shoes, but she just grinned, shook her head, and walked away.

You stared at the empty doorway for a full thirty seconds longer than you should have.

It wasn't the first time she'd razzed you. You weren't even new to Abbott anymore. But that moment—it stayed.

And you, idiot that you are, let it stay.

You were the kind of fool who liked little things too much. The way Melissa's voice dipped when she was tired or affectionate. The way she'd call someone "honey" and it would feel like you'd earned something holy. The particular scrunch of her nose when she pretended not to care.

And it would've been fine. Quiet pining is sustainable. It's safe.

Except then came him.

Captain Robinson.

Tall. Confident. Decent jawline. Firefighter. The kind of man who makes moms at pickup line whisper in pairs. He met Melissa at a community fire safety presentation, and within a week, his name started showing up more than yours in her stories.

He brought her lunch once. Melissa told you he made her laugh. He helped her carry in three crates of juice boxes one afternoon and kissed her temple before leaving.

You'd gone home and scrubbed your kitchen tiles on your hands and knees until your arms ached.

Melissa didn't talk about him often. Not in that giddy, oversharing kind of way. But he was there—in little glimpses, in a new necklace she said he bought her, in a few mornings where she showed up with wet hair and a satisfied kind of smirk that made your heart hurt.

You tried to be happy for her. Truly. She looked... safe with him. Relaxed.

But then there were the other moments.

The way her gaze lingered on you when she thought you weren't looking. The softness when she handed you coffee without asking. That time she saw you shivering in the parking lot and wordlessly wrapped you in her own scarf—and kept her hand on your back a second too long.

It made your head spin. And it made you angry. Because if she wanted you—why didn't she do something?

Instead, you were stuck in a weird purgatory. Halfway between being her coworker and her almost-could be-something. Meanwhile, she had a firefighter with a beer belly and a stable retirement plan.

"You need to go on a date." Jacob said it during lunch one Wednesday like it was a group project assignment.

You blinked. "I'm sorry, what?"

"You heard him," Janine said, nodding. "You've been weird and mopey for, like, a month. Ever since Melissa started—"

"I'm not mopey," you interrupted.

Jacob gave you a long, painfully kind look over his yogurt. "You wore mismatched shoes last week."

"I was tired."

"And you nearly cried when Melissa said you were 'like family.'"

"That was contextually emotional, okay?"

Jacob patted your hand. "You deserve to be distracted by someone hot. And kind. And not currently entangled with a fireman who looks like he does intermittent fasting for sport."

You almost laughed—but it caught in your throat.

"I don't know," you muttered. "I'm not really in the mood to..."

"You don't have to marry them," Janine said gently. "Just a date. With a woman who thinks you're cute and actually wants to kiss you instead of teasing you like it's not stringing you along."

That part hit a little too close.

They set you up with someone named Riley—a friend of Jacob's from a book club that dissolved after too many arguments about The Secret History. She was pretty in an art-teacher kind of way, all expressive earrings and dry wit, with a sharp smile that promised you wouldn't be bored.

You agreed, half-dreading it, but also desperate for the ache in your chest to lessen, even by an inch.

The night of the date, you wore something simple but flattering. Something you knew Melissa liked on you. That fact haunted you in the mirror as you adjusted the neckline.

You arrived at the cozy wine bar Riley had chosen and she was already there, sipping a glass of red and smiling like you were exactly what she'd hoped for.

"You're cuter than your picture," she said as you sat down. "Is that okay to say?"

You smiled. It was nice. It was.

Conversation flowed. She was funny. She got your sarcasm. You even forgot to check your phone for nearly half an hour.

Then the bell above the door chimed.

Melissa didn't come here often.

But there she was.

Leather jacket. Perfect hair. That careless walk like she owned the room without trying.

Captain Robinson wasn't with her. She was with Kristen Marie—probably grabbing a drink after dinner or some neighborhood thing. You weren't sure.

But her eyes scanned the room lazily...

...and then stopped.

Right. On. You.

And Riley.

Sitting close, laughing, drinking wine, her hand touching your arm like it had every right to.

Melissa froze.

Not visibly. Not to anyone else. But you saw it. The way her smile twitched. The way her eyebrows lifted a fraction of a second too high.

Kristen Marie kept talking beside her, oblivious. Melissa nodded distractedly—but didn't look away.

You felt your stomach flip in the worst way.

Because she looked jealous.

And you—god help you—you liked it.

There was a booth at the far end of the bar Melissa liked—half-lit, quiet, good vantage point for people-watching. But tonight, with you just fifteen feet away under warm hanging lights and Riley laughing like you belonged to her, she picked a table far too close.

Kristen Marie was mid-sentence, spinning some ridiculous story about one of her preschoolers swallowing a LEGO head, but Melissa wasn't hearing any of it. Not really.

Because you were smiling. At someone else.

And Melissa couldn't fucking stand it.

She schooled her face into something neutral—interested, even. She nodded when Kristen Marie paused. Maybe even laughed a little too hard at a line she barely caught. But her eyes kept drifting back. Over the rim of her glass. Under her lashes. Quietly frantic.

You were doing the same thing.

Trying to act normal. Holding onto this date like a lifeline. Laughing at Riley's jokes even when they didn't quite land. Listening. Flirting, even.

But your heart was hammering too fast in your chest. You could feel her. The weight of her stare burning into your side like a slow match. And every time you dared to glance toward the bar—there she was. Beautiful, unreadable, with one hand wrapped tightly around her glass and the other clenched in her lap.

Still not alone.

Of course.

Kristen Marie caught sight of you and waved. You smiled automatically, polite and shaky. Melissa didn't wave. Her jaw twitched once. That was all.

"She's been watching you since we walked in," Riley said casually, her voice low as she sipped her drink.

Your stomach flipped.

"What?"

Riley tilted her head, eyes amused. "The redhead. I take it you know her."

You stared down into your glass. "She's... someone I work with."

"Uh huh," Riley said, leaning back, her tone playful but sharp. "And do you work with her while secretly pining like a Victorian ghost?"

You choked out a laugh, panicked. "What? No. I mean—no. Not... not anymore."

Riley raised an eyebrow. "So formerly haunted. Got it."

You stared at the candle between you like it might offer an escape.

"I don't blame you," she added after a beat. "She's hot. And currently staring at me like she wants to set me on fire."

You flinched, glanced over. Yep. Melissa was doing that thing again—masking it with a slight smile, talking with Kristen Marie, but her eyes? Laser-focused.

"She's not—jealous," you said, maybe to yourself. "She's just..."

"Watching her coworker on a date. Intently. While ignoring her own companion? Yeah, no, that's totally casual behavior."

You rolled your eyes, but your skin buzzed with nerves. Riley was too perceptive for your own good. But she wasn't wrong.

The waitress came by with the wine refill, and you forced yourself to sit up straighter, to focus.

Riley leaned in again, a little closer this time. "So. Are we making her jealous on purpose or by accident?"

You snorted, more genuinely this time. "I didn't even know she'd be here."

Riley nodded. "Then it's fate. Which means we owe it to the universe to keep going. You seem like someone who needs a push."

You blinked. "I do?"

"You look like you've been in love with someone who doesn't deserve you for, like, a decade."

You frowned. "She's not... she's not a bad person."

"I didn't say she was," Riley said, tilting her head. "I said she doesn't deserve you. If she did, she'd be sitting here instead of over there playing I Spy with your collarbone."

You couldn't help it. You laughed.

And Riley leaned in even further.

She reached across the table and rested her fingers on the back of your hand. Just lightly. Friendly. But pointed.

You could feel Melissa's gaze burn hotter than the candle.

Riley's voice dropped, soft now. "Hey. I like you. And if this is too much, we can call it. I don't want to be some rebound you regret."

"I don't—" You hesitated. "It's not like that. I wanted to be here. I'm glad I came."

"Good," Riley said, warm again. "Then let's make it worth your time."

You smiled.

But behind her, your eyes met Melissa's.

And Melissa—still seated across from her sister, still pretending not to care—was gripping her wine glass like she wanted to crush it with her bare hands.

Melissa couldn't breathe.

Okay, no, that was dramatic. She could breathe. Technically. But something felt tight in her chest. Like jealousy had snuck up on her with its hands around her ribs and squeezed.

She'd thought she could handle it.

She told herself it didn't matter when Janine mentioned you were "finally going on a date." She even smiled. Said something dumb like, "Good for her. About time."

But now? Watching you lean toward that girl—smiling, letting her touch you, looking goddamn radiant in that shirt Melissa had once complimented half-jokingly in the break room?

Nope.

She couldn't handle this.

Kristen Marie finally stopped her story and looked at her sideways. "Are you even listening?"

Melissa blinked. "Sure."

Kristen Marie raised an eyebrow. Then turned, followed her gaze, and saw you.

"Oh, that's what's happening."

"Nothing's happening."

"You look like you're one half-glass away from walking over there and dragging her out by the hand."

Melissa glared into her drink. "She's on a date."

"Yeah, I can see that. So can you. Which is why your eye is twitching."

Melissa reached up and smoothed her face automatically. "It's not."

Kristen Marie smirked. "Okay."

There was a long pause.

Riley's grin deepened, catching the shift in tension. "You know what? Let's lean into it."

You looked at her confused.

She slid her chair a little closer and whispered conspiratorially, "Let's show her what she's missing."

You swallowed but didn't pull away.

Riley reached across the table and brushed her fingers lightly against your arm, just enough to make your skin tingle. Then she flashed a devilish smile.

"I'm a pro at this," she said.

You felt yourself relax a fraction, and a smile tugged at your lips.

Riley caught the cue and dipped her head, her eyes sparkling. "So... one more drink? Or maybe two?"

You nodded, letting yourself be coaxed into the moment.

Riley ordered another round, and suddenly the air between you was charged. She laughed more freely, her hand casually resting atop yours. You responded with a subtle lean in, fingers brushing. The chemistry was electric but playful.

Meanwhile, Melissa was watching all of it—her jaw tightening, the set of her shoulders rigid as she forced herself to laugh along with Kristen Marie's commentary. Her eyes flicked to your hand touching Riley's.

You noticed, and your heart twisted. There was a pang of guilt. But also something more complicated.

When you finally decided to leave—feeling that mixture of exhilaration and exhaustion—you thanked Riley softly.

As you stood, Kristen Marie, who had been watching the entire scene with a knowing smirk, suddenly waved enthusiastically. "Hey! Over here!"

You froze.

Melissa's eyes caught yours, and time slowed.

Kristen Marie's voice was loud enough for you to hear, dripping with playful cruelty. "Come say hi to Melissa."

You forced a smile, heart pounding, and approached the table where Melissa and Kristen Marie sat.

Melissa's gaze was sharp. Unblinking. Her sister shot you a pointed look.

"Hey," you said softly, trying to keep your voice steady.

Melissa's lips twitched into a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Hey."

The silence that fell between you was thick—full of things unsaid and feelings barely contained.

Kristen Marie took the opportunity to cut the tension with a joke about her preschoolers, but it only made the awkwardness more pronounced.

You nodded politely, glanced at Melissa one last time, and quietly excused yourself.

Outside the bar, the cool night air felt like a balm, but inside, you could still feel Melissa's eyes burning holes in your back.

The next morning at Abbott, the air was heavy. The usual hum of busy teachers and students felt subdued in your corner.

Janine was bouncing on her toes outside your classroom, grinning like she'd just discovered a secret. Jacob lingered nearby, arms crossed, eyes flickering with amusement.

"So," Janine said, practically vibrating, "how was the date?"

You forced a small smile. "It was... fine."

Jacob exchanged a glance with Janine. "Come on, spill."

You sighed, rubbing the back of your neck. "Melissa was there."

Janine's mouth dropped open. "What?!?"

Jacob leaned forward like you were about to reveal the ending to a season finale. "Did she see you on the date? Did you talk?"

"She was the date," Janine said dramatically. "The date was the battlefield."

You pinched the bridge of your nose. "We didn't talk. Not really. I mean—Kristen Marie waved me over when I was leaving, which—don't even get me started."

"Oh no," Jacob said, clutching his chest. "You had to stand there? In front of her? While she was seated, all scorned and powerful like a Roman senator?"

"Yes," you muttered. "Exactly that."

Janine groaned and dropped her head to the table. "This is terrible. This is amazing. This is so terrible."

"She said nothing?" Jacob asked, aghast.

"She said 'hey.' That's it. I think she was trying not to stab me with a steak knife. Which, to be fair, valid."

"Did Riley know who she was?" Janine asked.

"Oh, yeah. She called her 'the redhead who wanted to set her on fire.'"

Jacob gasped. "Oh my god, I love her."

"I don't think she meant it affectionately," you mumbled.

Janine lifted her head, eyes huge. "Wait. So did you tell Riley? About Melissa?"

"No," you said quickly. Then hesitated. "Sort of. I said we work together."

"You said that while Melissa was burning holes in your head from ten feet away?" Janine asked, scandalized. "Babe."

"I panicked!"

Across the building, Melissa sat at her desk pretending to care about a stack of field trip permission slips.

She'd read the same sentence four times. Something about emergency contacts. Her jaw kept clenching.

Kristen Marie had tried to talk to her on the way home, to get her to admit what they both knew. But Melissa brushed her off with a low, "Drop it," and spent the rest of the ride staring out the window like a brooding teenager.

She hadn't slept. Not well. Her mind kept replaying that moment when Riley touched your hand—when you let her.

She could still hear your laugh. Still feel the flutter in her chest she refused to name.

Captain Robinson had texted last night:

"Goodnight, babe. Can't wait to see you Friday."

She didn't answer.

The worst part was, she knew she should feel guilty. She should feel conflicted. But all she felt was rage.

And jealousy. And this tight ache under her ribs.

A knock came at her door.

She looked up too fast. It wasn't you. Of course not.

Barbara slipped inside, calm and quiet as ever. "Melissa."

Melissa straightened. "Hey, Barb."

Barbara closed the door behind her. "What happened?"

Melissa blinked. "What do you mean?"

Barbara tilted her head. "I may be old, but I'm not blind. You've barely looked at her today. And she's barely looked at you. That's not nothing."

Melissa swallowed. "We're just—busy."

Barbara raised one elegant eyebrow. "Try again."

Melissa sighed. "She was on a date. I happened to be there."

"With Kristen Marie," Barbara said knowingly, sitting across from her. "She told me."

Melissa looked down at her desk. "It's not my business who she goes out with."

Barbara was quiet for a moment. "Then why does it look like someone kicked your puppy?"

Melissa didn't answer.

Barbara leaned forward. "Do you love her?"

Melissa's breath hitched.

She didn't speak.

"You don't have to say it out loud," Barbara said gently. "But if you do... you need to be honest. With her. With yourself. And with the man who thinks he still has a place in your heart."

Melissa looked away.

"I don't love him," she said quietly. "Captain Robinson. I never really did. Not like that."

Barbara gave a small, sad smile. "Then why are you still pretending?"

Melissa didn't know. Maybe because it was easy. Safe. Expected.

But last night, when you looked at her like you didn't recognize her anymore—when Riley held your hand and you didn't pull away—it was the first time she'd felt real panic.

Not fear of losing. But fear of being too late.

Barbara stood. "You have a choice, Melissa. But if you wait too long... someone else might make it for you."

The last school bell rang like a mercy.

You stayed at your desk longer than usual, eyes glued to a stack of graded essays you had no memory of writing feedback on. Your thoughts kept looping, tangled in Melissa's unreadable stare, Riley's soft smile, Janine's gasps of disbelief, Jacob's whispered theories.

You were exhausted.

Emotionally drained from playing it cool all day. From ducking into side hallways to avoid running into her. From pretending like you weren't reliving that candlelit wine bar moment on repeat, her voice a tight "hey" that sounded like a question she didn't ask.

And the worst part?

You missed her.

You missed her. The ridiculous banter. The eye-rolls she saved just for you. The way she'd sneak snacks into your desk drawer without ever admitting it. The warmth of her when she stood close. The way she looked at you sometimes like you were gravity.

And today she hadn't looked at you at all.

Janine appeared at your door like a worried sibling, already mid-sentence. "Okay, so we've decided you're coming over tonight. I'll make spaghetti. Jacob's bringing that fancy red wine that gives us both headaches. You're not allowed to wallow alone."

Jacob followed close behind. "We're staging an emotional intervention. You get to pick the playlist, and if you say Phoebe Bridgers, I will cry with you."

You smiled despite yourself. "You guys don't have to—"

Janine cut you off with a look. "No. We do. Because we love you. And because Melissa's acting like she's in the final act of a tragic opera and it's making everyone weird."

Jacob glanced down the hall. "She's been pacing her classroom. Ava told me she took three different calls in a row and said 'I gotta deal with this' out loud to herself."

"She also slammed a drawer," Janine whispered dramatically.

You blinked. "Wait, really?"

"She never slams," Jacob said. "Something's up."

And then—Jacob's eyes widened.

"Oh my god," he hissed, grabbing Janine's arm. "Look."

You followed his gaze.

Down the hallway, tall and solid as ever, was Captain Robinson, dressed in his off-duty jeans and department t-shirt, walking purposefully toward Melissa's room with a bouquet of white tulips in hand.

You froze. Janine's jaw dropped. Jacob physically recoiled.

"He brought flowers?" Janine hissed. "She told him to come?"

"I thought she ghosted him!" Jacob whisper-screamed. "He texted her last night and she didn't answer! This is... this is the twist!"

You stared.

Melissa had called him.

She wanted him here.

You thought your stomach might hit the floor.

Janine put a hand on your arm. "Hey. You okay?"

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. You felt numb. Cold and hot all at once.

"I—I don't know."

Jacob moved closer. "We can leave. Come on. You don't have to watch this."

But you couldn't move. Not yet.

Just as Captain Robinson reached her door, Melissa opened it.

She looked like she'd been non-stop pacing. Her hair was a little frizzy from her fingers, her expression serious. You couldn't hear what she said, but you saw her eyes flicker in surprise—then soften.

She stepped aside, let him in.

The door closed behind them.

And the silence stretched like it wanted to snap.

Captain Robinson set the flowers down on her desk, his grin easy. "You look good."

Melissa gave a faint smile. "Thanks for coming."

"You said it was important. What's up?"

She didn't sit. "We need to talk."

He paused, straightening. "Okay..."

Melissa exhaled slowly. "I've been thinking a lot. About us. About this."

He nodded once, the corners of his mouth twitching into something wary.

"You're great," she said. "You really are. You've been kind. Steady. Exactly the kind of guy anyone would be lucky to have."

"But not the one you want," he said gently.

She flinched. "No. I thought maybe I could get there. That something would click eventually."

"But it didn't."

She shook her head.

He rubbed the back of his neck, then offered a sad little smile. "So... who is she?"

Melissa's eyes flickered up, startled. "What?"

"I'm not blind either, Schemmenti. You think I didn't notice the way your whole face changes when someone mentions her?"

Melissa looked down at the floor, her voice quiet. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"You didn't," he said easily. "We were dating. Not married. Not even exclusive, technically."

She looked up at him, eyebrows raised.

He shrugged. "We both kept things vague. But I'm glad you called. It was the right thing to do."

Melissa nodded, the tension in her shoulders loosening just a bit.

He picked up the flowers again and smiled. "I'll give these to the nurse's office. Someone'll appreciate them."

She laughed once, and he winked. "Good luck, Schemmenti. Go get your girl."

And with that, he walked out.

You were still frozen just outside your classroom when he passed, bouquet in hand, nodding at you politely before disappearing down the hall.

You blinked. "What—?"

Janine gasped. "Wait. He's leaving?"

Jacob leaned closer. "Did she break up with him?"

You looked toward Melissa's room again.

And this time, the door was open.

She stood there, still in the doorway, watching him walk away.

And then her eyes found yours.

She didn't look away. You didn't either.

Your heart pounded in your chest.

Jacob whispered, "Oh no. This is definitely happening."

Janine clapped her hands, whisper-yelling, "Okay, no one breathe too loud. History is being made."

And you knew, suddenly, that she hadn't just called him to talk.

She'd called him to end it.

Because she finally knew what she wanted.

And it wasn't safe. It wasn't easy. It was you.

The air in the hallway went still. Like the building, the world, the entire school day had drawn a collective breath and held it.

Melissa stepped out of her classroom.

Slow. Controlled. Measured. But her face—God, her face. Her mask was gone. All that tight, sharp tension she wore like armor cracked open, and underneath it?

Bare. Raw. Terrified.

You stepped forward too, almost involuntarily. Some magnetic force that had always existed between you pulling tighter, demanding less space, fewer lies.

"Okay," Jacob whispered, tugging Janine's sleeve. "We need to go. We're not animals."

"I am," Janine hissed, eyes wide. "But fine."

They backed into your classroom with the cartoonish urgency of sitcom characters escaping a scene. The door clicked shut behind them. Probably watching through the blinds.

But it didn't matter. You couldn't look anywhere but her.

She stopped a few feet away.

Neither of you said anything.

Then Melissa broke the silence, voice low and rough. "He's not coming back."

Your stomach flipped. "I saw."

"I ended it."

A pause. "Why?"

Her breath hitched, but her gaze didn't waver. "Because I couldn't stand the thought of sitting across from someone who wanted me... while thinking about someone who doesn't."

You felt like you'd been punched. "Melissa—"

"And then I saw you." Her voice cracked, and she swallowed hard. "With her. And I thought—I did this. I waited too long. I let you move on."

"I didn't move on," you said, almost instantly. "I tried to."

She stepped closer. "You looked like you were happy."

"I was happy," you admitted. "She was nice. She is nice. But I kept thinking about you. I kept wishing it was you sitting across from me instead."

Melissa's eyes shimmered. Her hands flexed at her sides.

"I was scared," she said, softer now. "You're the only thing that ever felt real. And that made it hard. I thought I could keep it casual with him. Play safe. Be comfortable."

You tilted your head, barely breathing. "And now?"

"I'm not interested in comfortable anymore," she whispered.

Another step. She was close enough now you could see the freckle under her right eye. The way her breath hitched when she looked at your lips.

Your heart pounded.

You could kiss her. Right here. In the hallway. Between the bulletin board and the copier. Right where the worst day of longing was turning into something else entirely.

But you didn't. Not yet.

"Melissa," you said, quietly but firmly. "You have to mean this."

Her eyes locked onto yours. Fierce. Devoted. Wrecked.

"I've mean it every single day," she said. "Even when I tried not to."

Your breath hitched. "Then say it."

Her voice was barely audible.

"I love you."

The hallway spun a little. Or maybe that was just your heart giving in.

You reached for her hand—her fingers threaded through yours like they always belonged there.

"I love you too."

She exhaled like she'd been holding it since September.

And then, finally, finally—she kissed you.

Right there in the hallway. After the bell. After the breakup. After the date.

Soft. Desperate. Devout.

You melted into it.

Everything that had been tangled inside you—longing, confusion, jealousy, guilt—unraveled in that kiss.

And then—from behind the classroom blinds, Janine let out a strangled sob. "OH MY GOD. THEY'RE KISSING."

Jacob practically squealed. "We are not emotionally prepared for this arc."

You broke the kiss, forehead resting against hers, laughing into her smile.

Melissa didn't pull away.

"Dinner at your place tonight?" she murmured.

You nodded. "Only if you bring dessert."

She grinned. "I am dessert."

"Oh my god," you groaned, shoving her shoulder, laughing.

Down the hall, a door creaked open.

Barbara peeked out, made eye contact with the both of you... and gave a knowing, satisfied nod.

Then shut the door again.

That evening, dinner at your place felt different than it ever had before.

Not just because Melissa was here—she'd been here plenty of times before, balancing takeout containers and grumbling about the thermostat being too high. But tonight... tonight she stood just inside the doorway, a little unsure, a little wide-eyed, like she couldn't quite believe she was finally allowed to be here like this.

You ended up making something simple. Pasta, mostly because it was what you had, and you needed something to do with your hands. Melissa leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping a glass of wine and watching you with a look you hadn't seen before—not quite smirking, not teasing.

Just... soft.

Like you were something holy.

"Y'know," she said quietly, "I used to picture this."

You glanced up. "This?"

She nodded. "You. Me. A night like this. Your place. Something simmering on the stove. You humming. Me pretending I'm not completely gone for you."

You froze mid-stir.

Her voice was quieter now. "I've been gone for a long time."

Your hands dropped to the counter. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Melissa hesitated. "Because I didn't think I could have this. You're..." Her brow furrowed. "You're the kind of person who makes me want more. And that scared the hell out of me."

You blinked back something tight in your throat. "You think I haven't been terrified every time you walked into my classroom with some sarcastic comment and that crooked smile and a bag of pretzels like I wouldn't immediately crumble?"

Melissa laughed, choked and warm. "I was never just dropping off pretzels."

"I know that now."

You moved closer, the space between you dissolving.

"I thought I could get over it," you whispered. "I really did. That's why I went out with Riley. She was kind. She made me laugh. But she wasn't you. And it didn't matter how much I tried to pretend she could be."

Melissa reached up, cupped your cheek gently. "I hated seeing you with her."

"I know."

"I hated how much she got to see you laugh. That's mine."

You leaned into her touch. "Then keep it."

She kissed you again, slow and deliberate this time. No urgency. Just this deep, reverent thing. Like she had all the time in the world now.

And maybe she did.

When you finally pulled apart, you both stayed wrapped up in each other, arms loosely looped around waists, wine forgotten.

You asked quietly, "Was it really that bad? Wanting me?"

Melissa's eyes filled with something aching. "It wasn't wanting you that hurt," she said. "It was pretending I didn't."

You exhaled slowly, forehead pressing to hers.

There were no more walls. No more stolen glances. Just this.

You whispered, "Come to bed. With me."

She nodded against your lips. "Only if I get to stay."

You pulled back, heart full. "Stay as long as you want."

You led her to the bedroom in silence.

But not the kind that stretches awkward or unsure. This was different—thick with meaning. Sacred, almost. Melissa followed close behind you, fingertips brushing your arm like she couldn't stand even an inch of distance anymore.

You turned once you reached the edge of the bed, facing her, unsure if you were shaking from nerves or adrenaline or just the fact that she was finally here, in front of you, like this.

Her hands found your hips. Yours slid into her hair.

And when you kissed her this time, it was deeper—hungrier—not rushed, but full of all the nights you'd dreamed of this. Of her.

She kissed you like she'd been starving.

Like she was trying to memorize every angle of your mouth, every sound you made when she pressed closer, every breath that hitched between words you weren't speaking.

You pulled her shirt over her head slowly, and she let you, her eyes never leaving yours.

There was reverence in the way you touched her—fingers tracing the lines of her shoulders, the strong curve of her back. She was all warmth and steady hands, moving with purpose and something more vulnerable than you'd ever seen in her.

"I used to think about this," you whispered against her neck. "What it would feel like. To be this close."

Her hands slipped under your shirt, lifting it with care. "And?" she asked, voice husky, eyes flickering with emotion.

You smiled, a little breathless. "It's better than I imagined."

Melissa kissed you again—slower this time, softer. She took her time with every button, every layer of hesitation, like she was unwrapping a secret she already knew by heart.

When the last bit of distance disappeared and your skin pressed against hers, you both paused.

It wasn't about lust. Not just that.

It was about recognition.

Like coming home.

In the hush of the room, your bodies found each other with aching gentleness—exploring, learning, listening. She asked with her hands if you were okay. You answered with a gasp and a pull that said don't stop, I need you, I trust you.

You were still tangled in each other, skin to skin, when she whispered your name like a secret—like it meant something only she got to say.

Her hands never stopped moving. Not frantically, but reverently. Like she was still learning the shape of you, the way your breath hitched when her fingers trailed along your ribs, the way your thighs tensed when she pressed a little closer.

"God," Melissa murmured, her lips ghosting over your collarbone. "You're so damn beautiful."

You exhaled softly, your fingers threading through her hair. "So are you."

She shook her head faintly, smile curving against your skin. "You've always undone me. Even when I tried to act like you didn't." Her voice was lower now, husky with awe. "I kept telling myself it was just admiration. Just a crush. But every time I looked at you..." Her lips pressed just below your jaw. "I fell a little harder."

You arched into her, gasping as her hand traced slow, languid lines down your side. She was everywhere—her body flush against yours, her breath warm against your neck, her voice making you tremble more than anything else.

"I love the way you sound," she whispered, almost in disbelief. "The way you move. The way you let me in."

You guided her hips down to meet yours, the angle perfect, a slow drag of skin on skin that made you both gasp.

Your nails clutched at her waist. "Melissa..."

Her mouth found yours again, messier this time, needy. She was grinding into you, her rhythm steady, deliberate, like she wanted to make you feel everything.

And you did.

Every moan you swallowed into her mouth. Every word she whispered—"So good," "Just like that," "I've got you"—sent your body spiraling closer to the edge.

You rocked against her, hips rising to meet her, the friction electric, dizzying, perfect.

Your head fell back into the pillow, your voice catching. "You feel so good."

She held your gaze. "Come with me."

You nodded, barely able to breathe.

And then she said it—low, breathless, honest:

"I've waited so long for this. For you."

That was what did it.

The words. The weight of them.

The love.

You came with a gasp, your legs tightening around her, your hands in her hair as Melissa followed just seconds later, her body shaking against yours, her mouth open in a soft, broken moan.

And when it was over, you stayed like that.

Foreheads touching. Fingers linked.

Both of you catching your breath in the quiet aftermath.

She kissed you again, slower this time. A thank you. A promise.

You smiled, still breathless. "I meant it. Stay."

Melissa pulled you even closer. "I'm not going anywhere."

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