#abbott elementary abc

“You eat yet?”

🌸She doesn’t say “I love you” first thing in the morning — she says, “You eat yet?” as she slides over a tinfoil-wrapped breakfast sandwich she picked up from “the good place, not that tourist crap.” 🌸You open it and find your favourite. No onions. Extra cheese. 🌸You smile. She shrugs. “I know what my girl likes.”

“Stay behind me.”

🌸You’re walking through a sketchy part of town after a late school event. A group of loud teenagers starts acting up, and Melissa subtly shifts to stand in front of you. 🌸“You stay behind me,” she mutters, eyes scanning the sidewalk like a hawk. 🌸You reach for her hand. She lets you hold it, even as her other one’s curled into a fist. 🌸Protectiveness is her love language.

“I told my sisters about you.”

🌸Melissa doesn’t bring just anyone around her family — blood or otherwise. So when she casually drops, “Yeah, I told my sisters about you,” while grading papers, your head snaps up. 🌸“You did?” 🌸“Course I did,” she says like it’s nothing, even though it very much isn’t. “They’ll love you. Or else.” 🌸That’s the closest thing to a marriage proposal coming from a Schemmenti.

“You’re not wearing that out, are you?”

🌸Sometimes she’s blunt — okay, always. But when she frowns at your outfit, it’s not judgment. It’s possessive affection. 🌸“I am wearing this.” 🌸“Not when you’re with me, you’re not,” she grumbles, but pulls you into a kiss anyway. “You’re gonna start a riot in South Philly lookin’ that good.”

“I made extra.”

🌸Melissa doesn’t “meal prep,” she cooks like she’s feeding the neighbourhood. But there’s always a specific Tupperware with your name on it in her fridge. 🌸Sometimes it’s baked ziti. Sometimes it’s meatballs. Sometimes it’s a sandwich from a deli where she knows the owner’s mom. 🌸Either way, she’ll hand it to you with a “Don’t you dare skip lunch, got it?”

“You make me soft, ya know that?”

🌸It comes out one night when you’re curled up together on her couch, half-watching a crime drama. 🌸She’s sipping wine, you’re tracing her hand. 🌸“You make me soft, ya know that?” she says, almost annoyed, like it’s your fault she feels this much. 🌸You just kiss her shoulder and say, “Good. Someone’s gotta.”

“Marone, I love you.”

🌸She does say it sometimes — but it usually slips out when you’ve made her laugh so hard she snorts, or when you’ve stood up to someone for her. 🌸“Marone,” she mutters, hand on her heart like you’ve physically knocked the wind out of her. “I love you, you pain in my ass.” 🌸She acts like she didn’t mean to say it, but she doesn’t take it back.

“If anyone hurts you…”

🌸Once, someone made a comment that crossed a line. You brushed it off. Melissa did not. 🌸She cornered them after school, voice low and terrifying. 🌸You found out when Ava told you: “Yo, your girl went full mafia on that guy. It was hot.” 🌸When you confronted Melissa, she just said, “Nobody talks to you like that. Ever.”

“You’re mine, capisce?”

🌸It’s not a question. It never is with her. 🌸And when she says it, you feel safe. Wanted. Claimed in the best, most protective way. 🌸You grin. “I capisce.” 🌸“Good,” she murmurs, pulling you in, “Now come here and let me show you how much.”

Setting the Scene:

Melissa’s living room is your horror HQ. She's got a plush sectional with a throw blanket in that deep-school-red shade, wine on the coffee table, and candles flickering with an amber glow. It’s romantic, sure, but that’s not why you’re here—you’re here to be terrified together.

She insists on physical DVDs: no streaming. “It’s the principle,” she tells you, thumbing through her alphabetized collection of actual scary movies, not the fake jump scare shit. You're impressed by the depth of her collection: vintage Italian giallo films, ‘70s slashers, obscure psychological horror you’ve never heard of.

Movie Taste + Watching Habits:

She has zero patience for bad pacing. If the movie takes too long to get going, she’ll roll her eyes and talk loudly over it. “We get it. Your wife’s dead. Move it along.”

She LOVES practical effects. Think The Thing, Hellraiser, and Suspiria (the original). “See that blood? That’s real corn syrup and food dye. None of that CGI bullshit.”

You’re a little more squeamish, so she likes picking movies she knows you’ll squirm at—just so you’ll hide your face in her chest and clutch her arm. She lives for it. “Aw, baby, is it too much? Wanna watch ‘Hocus Pocus’ instead?” (Teasing you with a grin).

During the Movie:

She doesn’t jump at scares. Ever. But when you scream, she laughs, wraps an arm around your shoulder, and presses a kiss to your temple. “Jesus, babe. You’re cute when you’re scared.”

Melissa talks to the screen. Constant commentary. “Why would you go in the basement? Stupid.” You used to get annoyed, but now it just feels like part of the experience — and her commentary is funny.

If it’s a movie she’s seen before, she’ll purposely turn to you during key moments, watching your face instead of the screen. “Wait for it… Aaaand—yep. You jumped. Classic.”

Post-Movie Vibes:

She always asks if you want to sleep with the lights on—even though she knows you’re going to say yes. She never teases you for it, though. In fact, she leaves the bathroom light on “just in case.”

The best part for her is the aftercare. You’re jittery and clinging to her like a scared little kitten, and Melissa? She’s smug but sweet. Pulls you onto her lap, lets you bury your face in her neck, strokes your hair, murmurs, “Ain’t nothin’ gonna hurt you, honey. I’m right here.”

If you're really spooked, she'll suggest a "palette cleanser" .. usually something comforting, like old Golden Girls reruns or an episode of Frasier, playing while she spoons you under the blankets.

Smutty Bonus Headcanons:

You being scared turns her on just a little bit. There’s something about you clinging to her, half-hiding behind her arm, asking her if she can stay close—that lights a fire in her stomach. "You scared, baby? Lemme make you forget about that monster under the bed."

If you jump during a particularly tense scene, she’ll tug you into her lap and whisper, "I gotcha. You’re safe with me, sweetheart." But her hands might wander, stroking your thighs while you’re still shaking just a little.

Sometimes she’ll turn horror night into foreplay on purpose. Picks the movie with the creepiest music just to get you curling into her chest, and then afterwards? She’s got you under her, saying, “Think you’ll be able to sleep now, or do I gotta wear you out first?”

Little Things She’d Say:

“What, that scared you? That was nothing, baby. Wait ‘til you see the next scene.”

“You’re lucky I’m here, y’know. You wouldn’t last five minutes in a haunted house without me.”