Movie Night Drabble I

movie night drabble i

Summary: The ever elusive Tara Carpenter finally makes her appearance at your brother's frat party. Maybe you'll kiss. Okay, you'll definitely kiss.

Word Count: Warnings: swearing, smut 18+, underage drinking, slight violence Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader A/N: I got a little more goofy with R in this one because I wanted to try something a little different with my writing, so I hope y'all enjoy! movie night i | movie night ii | movie night iii

"Hey," your brother Alfie shouted over the music blaring throughout the frat house. "Carpenter's here."

You turned so quickly you spilled the vodka from your cup onto your shirt.

"Ah fuck," you mumbled, dropping the now-empty cup without a care in the world. Not like it was your frat house, why should you keep it clean?

You promptly bent down to pick it back up. Your Ma raised you better than that.

"Where is she?" You asked, once again searching for any sign of the younger Carpenter girl.

"You don't see her?" He was teasing you. It was evident by the stupid, smug look on his ugly mug.

"She's 5 foot nothin’, no I don't see her," you argued back.

“Over there,” Alfie pointed, and you followed his finger as best as you could.

“Where are you pointing your crooked ass finger?” You asked.

“See Frankie?” He asked in frustration. As if it was your fault he had crooked, broken fingers. “She’s talkin’ to him.”

“Ah shit,” you mumbled when you spotted Frankie and, finally, Tara. “Take my cup.”

You didn’t wait for him to agree before shoving the cup into his arms and making your way through the crowded frat house. As much as you wanted to see Tara, you didn’t want to see her with fucking Frankie. No one was worse than that prick. You and Alfie were pricks too, but at least you both stayed respectful. Frankie just wanted to get his rocks off with whatever girl gave him the chance.

Unfortunately, it looked like Tara might be that girl.

He was standing a little too close for comfort by the time you finally shoved your way past everyone. That annoying little voice in your head reminded you that Tara wasn’t yours and you had no right to her. And that voice was correct! But that didn’t mean you were going to stand aside and let fucking Frankie get his greasy hands on her.

“Hey Frankie,” you said with an obnoxious smile and a painfully hard clap on his shoulder. “How ya doin’?”

“Hey,” he said without even looking at you.

“Hi Tara,” you said far softer and with a much more genuine smile. At least you hoped it was, you were starting to feel a bit of that vodka settling in.

Tara opened her mouth to answer before being cut off by Frankie. “Need something?”

Think of something good.

“Yeah, actually,” you said with a shrug, “but we might wanna talk in private.”

“Just tell me now, Street Rat,” he said quickly. “I’m busy.”

Think of something good.

“It’s just,” you sighed, “I wanna make sure you get yourself checked out, man.”

“For what?”

“I was just talking with Skye earlier and she said she got the clap,” you said with a shrug. “I know you two are fuck buddies so you should probably watch out.”

“You serious?” He asked, suddenly standing up and looking far more furious as he crushed his beer in his hand.

“I’m doin’ you a solid, man-”

“-you gonna say this shit in front of Carpenter?” He asked, now standing toe-to-toe with you. Admittedly you may have underestimated his reaction to such a ploy. Should’ve come up with something less good.

“Dude chill, I told you we should talk in private-”

“-didn’t tell me it was about the fucking clap.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be tryin’ to fuck every girl that looks at you.”

You heard the crack below your eye before you felt it, a painful punch spiderwebbing across your cheekbone and eye. Nothing you hadn’t felt before, but Frankie could pack a punch when needed. Tears instantly pricked at your eyes as you recaught your balance and stood up, trying to blink away the pain. And tears. And humiliation.

“Say it again, Street Rat,” Frankie said.

“Hey, that’s enough,” Tara tried to say, doing her best to stand in between the both of you. Not that it mattered, she was too short. It was pretty cute, actually. “Y/N, let’s go.”

Don’t say it.

“You’re a man whore, dude,” you said anyway. He clenched his jaw tighter. “A man whore with the clap.”

You moved Tara out of the way and braced yourself when Frankie lifted his fist again. Thankfully he had dropped the beer can; you could already feel something warm trickling down the side of your face. If he was going to hit you then he needed to do it like a man, not with a weapon. Pop always said only cowards used weapons against unarmed men.

Maybe you should have been a coward.

The punch never came. When you re-opened your eyes, you saw Alfie standing there in between the both of you, creating the buffer Tara had tried and failed to become. His back was to you but you could tell by the square set of his shoulders that he was tense. And pissed. Oh god, he was pissed.

“Go home, Frankie,” Alfie said in his heavy Bronx accent. Like most everyone in the family, it came out more when he was tense. Or angry. Oh, he was angry.

“Not until I get an apology,” Frankie said as he pointed to you. “To my face.”

“Not my fault you’re collectin’ STDs like they’re fuckin’ Pokemon, man,” you said back. Shut up!

“Come here-”

“-enough!” Alfie shouted, pushing you both back. Not that you needed the encouragement, your cheek was still throbbing from the first punch. “Get the fuck out, Frankie.”

“I’ll be back for you, Street Rat,” Frankie said with a finger pointed at you. Like the mature adult you were, you stuck your tongue out at him before giving him your best New Yorker smile.

“Now,” Alfie insinuated with a push on Frankie’s chest, guiding him to the front door.

With one more look at you, Frankie finally made his way out of the frat house, pushing past whoever was unfortunate enough to be in his way. He was barely out of sight before you felt a hard slap against your stomach, forcing you to double over. You felt like you were going to puke. Maybe you would.

“Quit startin’ fights, you moron,” Alfie said as he grabbed your shoulders and stood you up straight again. “I’m gettin’ real tired of defending your sorry ass.”

“Pop always said I was a slow learner,” you said, your own accent coming out just enough to irritate you. With a slight scowl, you focused harder on your words. “I’m sorry.”

“Better be,” he said with a sigh. Finally, he turned his head to look at Tara. “You good, doll?”

“I’m fine,” she said with a shrug.

“Be careful with Frankie,” he continued. “He’s a real prick.”

“He’s a-”

“-not a word from you,” Alfie interrupted you with another slap to the shoulder. “You started this whole mess.”

“Coulda finished it too if you gave me the chance,” you said, rubbing your now sore shoulder and still trying not to puke from the blow to the stomach. Maybe those fireball shots weren’t necessary.

“Would you mind taking our little menace upstairs and cleaning the blood off?” Alfie asked Tara. “I’d appreciate it.”

Tara looked at you at the suggestion, really looked at you. Just that one look from her was enough to have your heart beating out of your chest like a Loony Toons character. Oh what you wouldn’t give to have her look at you all the time, whether in malice or admiration or love. Just to have her eyes on you would be enough to leave you happy and content until the day you died.

“Fine,” she said with a sigh, reaching forward to grab your hand. “Let’s go.”

“Don’t test her,” Alfie whispered to you as Tara pulled you away.

You just wiggled your brows suggestively at him, to which he promptly threw his hands up in defeat.

Tara led you throughout the frat house as if she had lived there her entire life. It was almost amusing to see someone so small moving through the crowd without any trouble, as if people knew there was a child among them and they needed to make sure not to step on it. Wait, maybe you shouldn’t be comparing her to a child. But, come on, she was small enough.

By the time you both managed to stumble up the two flights of stairs to the third floor, you were very much starting to feel the alcohol and the bruise that was blooming across your cheek. It was going to smart, that was for sure. Tara pushed you into Alfie’s room - by pure coincidence, surely - and shut the door behind her, locking it promptly.

“You’re a prick,” she said the moment she turned back around to look at you.

“I was protectin’ you,” you said, taking a deep breath in and exhaling slowly to ease the accent. “Frankie’s a prick and you know it.”

“I didn’t need protecting,” she groaned. “I’m capable of taking care of myself.”

“You wanna get the clap, be my guest,” you said with a shrug.

“Does he really have it?” Tara asked doubtfully.

You closed your mouth and looked off at Alfie’s closet. If you didn’t look at her, maybe she wouldn’t force you to answer. Even with the music pounding through the walls, you heard her sigh. You shouldn’t have lied, that annoying little voice in your head said. Sometimes you hated your subconscious; it was usually right.

Tara’s hand gripping your jaw made you flinch, which then made the throbbing in your cheek resume once again. Say what you wanted about Frankie, but he could pack a punch. Probably would’ve been better to just leave him be. But then Tara pulled your chin to face her, and you were instantly reassured that no, you absolutely should’ve gotten him to leave.

“He cut your cheek,” she said as her eyes left yours to look at the wounds that adorned your face. “Have anything to clean it with?”

“Here,” you said, leaning back just enough to pull your shirt over your head. Tara’s eyes went wide before she did her best to look anywhere but at you.

“Please put your shirt back on,” she said, still not looking at you.

“It’s got vodka on it anyway,” you said as you shoved the shirt into her hands. “Nature’s disinfectant.”

“It-,” she turned to look at you incredulously. “Are you stupid?”

“Depends on who’s asking,” you said with a grin. “Just clean it already, I’m braced.”

Tara shook her head slowly, but grabbed your jaw once again to hold you still. Her hand was soft; incredibly soft, actually. Depending on how she held you, you could almost see that scar of hers. An angry pink that looked like it didn’t really want to finish healing. She probably needed to put some cream on it, maybe you could ask your Ma for a bit of advice.

You hissed when she dabbed the vodka drenched shirt on your cheek. Oh, now you remembered why it wasn’t a good idea. It got the job done, sure, but it hurt like a sonofabitch. But you squared your shoulders and stayed still until she was done dabbing it. Even though it seemed like she was cleaning it a little more forcefully than necessary.

“Does Frankie actually have the clap?” Tara asked again while she finished up.

“Have you slept with him?” You asked in return. She gave you a frown before looking back at your cheek.

“No.”

“Then yes he does,” you said with a nod. “Plus a few others, he’s like a breeding ground for ‘em.”

“You’re disgusting,” she sighed before straightening up.

“Listen, if you wanted to get laid tonight, you could’ve always asked me,” you said with a shrug. You hoped it came off as nonchalant, even though you were totally chalant about it. Was that even a word?

“What makes you think I would want to sleep with you?” Tara asked as she crossed her arms over her chest. It didn’t distract you from noticing the slightest flush to her cheeks.

“Because you think I’m sexy,” you said in a sing-songy voice, “and you wanna kiss me.”

“Anyone ever told you you’re annoying?” She asked.

She did not, however, stop you from reaching out to grab her by the hips and pull her until she was standing between your legs. Even when you were sitting she was barely taller than you. Her arms uncrossed so she could rest her hands on your bare shoulders, causing you to shiver lightly. You were going to blame it on the alcohol.

“You can call me whatever you want,” you said, your eyes darting down to look at her lips. “As long as you call me.”

“This is only because I’m drunk,” Tara said, her own eyes looking at your lips. Bingo.

“Of course,” you said as your thumbs slipped under her shirt and rubbed her hips lightly.

“And if you tell anyone, I’ll kill you,” she continued.

“Naturally," you agree.

The alcohol coursed through you, leaving a heat in its wake. But it was nothing compared to the inferno you felt in your core when Tara practically surged forward to kiss you. She wasted no time parting her lips for you, letting you taste every inch of her. She tasted of cheap beer and lemonade; surprisingly unsurprising.

"Were you smoking?" She asked as she pulled away; you chased her, leaving a trail of kisses across her jaw. "You smell like smoke."

"Which answer gets me laid?" You asked between kisses.

"You're insufferable," she groaned.

She pushed against your shoulders until you fell back against the bed. Almost instantly, she climbed on top of you, straddling your stomach and placing her hands on your ribs. Her nails were short, but still long enough to scratch your skin lightly, sending another shiver through your body. It was a nice feeling. Painfully nice.

“Don’t try to romance me,” Tara said as she looked down at you; her pupils were blown and she looked absolutely beautiful.

“Just a fuck?” You clarified.

“A quick one,” she said with a nod.

“Clothes off?” You asked.

“On,” she corrected.

“Yes ma’am,” you said quickly before letting your hands push under her shirt, nails lightly scratching across her skin until you felt the underwire of her bra.

You waited, watching her to make sure she consented. The alcohol may have been clouding your judgment ever so slightly, but you weren’t Frankie. When Tara looked at you and nodded, you wasted no time in pushing her bra above her breasts. The moment your knuckles brushed against her nipples, her head slowly fell back and she exhaled sharply through her nose.

That inferno in your core only grew hotter when you rolled her nipple between your thumb and forefinger and her hips stuttered against your stomach. Oh it was a beautiful sight, to see Tara lose even the slightest bit of her composure from such a small gesture. You did it again and had to bite your lip to keep yourself from groaning at the movement of her hips.

“Don’t tease,” she said breathlessly, her nails digging deeper into your ribs. A stunning sting that you hoped would leave marks.

“As you wish,” you said in reply.

One of your hands stayed right where it was, brushing lightly against her nipple just to see her shiver. Your other hand moved down, unbuttoning her jeans with surprising ease that you blamed on nothing more than the alcohol. With nothing else in your way, you effortlessly slipped your hand under the waistband of her underwear, letting out a humiliating moan when you felt just how wet she was.

“Jesus, Tara,” you said breathlessly as you ran your fingers through her folds before stopping on her clit.

“Just shut up,” she said between clenched teeth.

It was an uncomfortable position for your hand to be in, though you wouldn’t change it for the world. Your wrist was at an awkward angle, you couldn’t do much, and there wasn’t much room to move. But that didn’t mean much when Tara was doing most of the work for you, rutting her hips against your hand as if you were good for one thing and one thing only.

“Don’t move,” she gasped, confirming your suspicions. You didn’t really care.

“Fuck,” you groaned as you watched her move, her nails finally splitting your skin ever so slightly. It wouldn’t bleed, but there would be red marks for the next few days. 

Even though Tara wasn’t touching you, there was something satisfying about watching her get herself off on your fingers. Seeing her eyes squeeze shut and her mouth fall open when she hit just the right spot. Feeling how wet she was and how effortlessly she could rut against your fingers. No shame, no regrets, just the pleasure of the moment.

God it was hot.

You watched her as she came, her hips stuttering, giving you the opportunity to finally help out and rub tight circles on her clit. Just enough to sustain her orgasm for a few seconds more. She exhaled sharply and leaned forward on her hands, pushing deeper into your ribs. It made it a little harder to breathe, but when Tara Carpenter was the cause? Well, you would be happy to just suffocate under her touch.

“God you’re hot,” you said softly, not even sure if she would hear you or not. That was okay; it wasn’t the point.

Her eyes finally opened as she caught some semblance of control over her breathing again. The beautiful brown of her eyes was taken over by her dark pupils, and for a moment, she almost looked like she was smiling down at you. Maybe she was, you certainly wouldn’t bring it up to her. Not at that moment, anyway. But then she blinked a few times and shook her head before removing her weight from her hands, unburdening you from suffocation.

“I suppose you’re not entirely insufferable,” she said as she slowly pushed herself off of you, being a little extra careful as she buttoned her pants.

“You’re gonna leave me high and dry, aren’t you?” You asked when she tossed your shirt back in your face.

“You never clarified you wanted to get laid,” she said with a smirk before walking to the door and leaving the room.

You fell back onto the bed and sighed loudly. Your head was thumping with your pre-hangover migraine, your cheek was still sore, and you had a serious case of blue balls. But the mental image of Tara getting herself off on your hand… well, you supposed that would suffice.

For now.

movie night pt ii

Summary: After your previous movie night was disrupted by Sam, you finally manage to get a real date with Tara. Or so you thought.

Word Count: 3.6k Warnings: swearing, mentions of stabbings, suggestive themes Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader (movie night pt i)

"I demand a do over," you said as you sat directly opposite Tara in the little café.

"It's not my fault you got caught," she said without looking up from her textbook. "I agreed to one movie, nothing more."

"Okay, then no movie," you said.  "Go on a date with me."

"And they say romance is dead."

"Please go on a date with me," you corrected.

Tara sighed and looked up at you with bored, beautiful eyes. It wasn’t like you could blame her; you had been annoying her since you had been unceremoniously kicked out of the apartment by Sam. But the least she could do was humour you. It wasn’t your fault Sam had come home early and cockblocked you both.

You leaned forward on the table. “One date,” you said softly.

Tara leaned forward too until you could feel her breath on your lips. “You said that about the movie,” she replied just as softly before leaning back once again.

“Why won’t you go on a date with me?” You asked with a huff.

And just like that, Tara got silent. Not the “I’m ignoring you” type of silence she usually had around you, but a genuine silence. One that you weren’t entirely sure how to deal with. Your family was rather loud and rambunctious, and that was on purpose, so whenever someone was silent you were at a loss. Did you crack a joke? Ask what was wrong? Change the subject?

The longer the silence went on, the more your palms started to sweat. Through all the teasing and bickering between you both, did Tara genuinely not enjoy being around you? Sure, she played it off and still kept you around, but was it just because she was being polite? Did she share the same sentiments as her sister?

“I was just kidding,” you finally said with a humourless chuckle as you leaned back in the booth and picked up your coffee. “You don’t actually have to-”

“-I’ll go.”

“What?” You asked, nearly choking on your coffee.

Tara looked up at you. “I’ll go on a date with you.”

“Seriously?” You asked.

“Don’t make me say it again,” she said with a huff and the smallest crinkle at the corner of her eyes.

“You’re agreeing because you want to go, right?” You asked, your eyes still glued to her face even though she wasn’t sparing you a second glance. “Not because you-”

“-oh my god, do you want me to go or not?”

“Yes I do,” you said as quickly as you could manage.

“Good,” Tara said with an exasperated nod of her head before she started packing up her things. “We can go after our media class tomorrow.”

“Wait but I don’t-”

“-this is your one chance,” she said with a pointed look and a move toward the front door. “Don’t blow it.”

“Tara!”

“See you in class!”

And just like that, she was gone and you were stuck at the table with a cup of coffee you didn’t even want and your stomach twisted into knots. This whole situation was your fault, of course, but you would never admit it. Your determination ramped up instantly. You were going to make this the best first date. It was going to be so perfect that even Tara fucking Carpenter would have to admit it.

“Do you try to sound as stupid as possible?” Tara asked when you held the classroom door open for her to leave.

“You’re just mad because I refuted your theory about one of my favourite movies,” you argued back before stepping in line beside her.

It had been a good class and, though you wouldn’t admit it aloud, you had done your best to rile Tara up. You couldn’t help it, she just got so passionate and then she would wave her hands and her facial expressions gave her away. Everything about it was adorable, and you didn’t care if you had to sound like an idiot to make it happen.

Although you weren’t an idiot and you were right about your theory.

“You need to improve your movie tastes,” Tara said once you were both walking down the steps of the Liberal Arts building and out into the quad. It was a beautiful day.

“My movie taste is flawless, thank you very much,” you said. Her knuckles brushed against your thigh, sending a jolt across your skin. “You’re just an elitist snob when it comes to media.”

“Elitist snob, huh?” She asked with a nonchalant nod of her head. “That’s really how you want to start this date?”

Shit.

“So where to, your highness?” You asked, completely ignoring her question and keeping your head up. She could humiliate you, but you were at least going to try and keep your dignity intact.

“You’re the one who wanted the date,” Tara said; her knuckles brushed against your hand this time. You suspected she was doing it on purpose. “You lead the way.”

Fuck. She was insufferable. God you were obsessed with her.

Wait.

“Come on,” you said with a giddy smile as you reached out and grabbed her left hand. She flinched but quickly settled. “I know a place.”

“Sounds like something a creep would say,” she mumbled, but still let you pull her along with you. 

“You’re the one who entrusted me with the date,” you said as you started dodging between people and cars that honked at you both even though they were still in park. “So shut up and come on.”

“If you get us killed and prove Sam right, I’m never going to forgive you,” she said but still followed suit.

“Sam thinks I’ll get us killed?” You asked when you slowed down, finally only a block or so away from your final destination.

“Yes she does,” Tara said with pursed lips and a nod. “Even called you a liability.”

“Well now that’s just rude,” you grumbled, but otherwise kept silent.

You pushed open the door to the abandoned building and pulled Tara until she walked in. With only a glance outside, you let the door click shut behind you. Your hand placed itself on the small of her back until you could lead her further into the building, quickly making your way to the empty arena.

“What is this place?” Tara asked as she stepped away from your touch to look around.

“Some sort of indoor sports arena, I think,” you called out on your way to the wall where you kept a projector screen. “Don’t know for sure, but it’s been abandoned for ages.”

“You brought a Woodsboro survivor to an abandoned building?” Tara asked. You froze. “Maybe Sam was right.”

“I… did not think that through,” you said as you turned to look at her. “We can go if you want.”

“It’s okay,” Tara said before walking closer, stopping when she was directly in front of you. “It’s a thing of the past.”

Was it though? As much as Sam hated you, you knew she meant well. She was traumatised, understandably, by her sister getting attacked three times and having to kill hers and her sister’s partners. That was enough to make anyone paranoid, and even with Sam going to therapy, it was evident that it still haunted her.

You weren’t so sure it didn’t still haunt Tara too.

“I’ve got stuff in my bag,” you said with a gesture toward the small duffle you had left on the floor. “I’ll set up the movie if you set everything else up.”

“Deal,” she said with a small smile that had your stomach doing somersaults.

It only took a few minutes to finish getting everything set up. For the first time, you were genuinely thankful to your dad for getting you the small portable projector. Sure you had used it before, but now you were going to use it to hopefully make it the best date ever. Failure was not an option.

“Pick a movie,” you said when you sat back down beside Tara and handed over your phone. “I won’t change it this time.”

“That a promise?” She asked, but took your phone nonetheless and started scrolling through.

She barely even looked through the plethora of movies on your phone before picking one and starting it. You raised your brow at her when you heard the beginning notes of Titanic playing, but kept quiet. If she wanted to put on a cheesy romance movie then you weren’t going to judge.

Tara quickly laid back on the blankets and pillows she had gotten out of your duffle bag, and you followed suit almost immediately after she was settled. The small space between you both vanished after only a few moments when Tara rolled onto her side and rested her head on your chest. Your breath caught in your throat before you exhaled and got comfortable.

“You picked a cheesy movie,” you said eventually as the movie continued to play.

“I figured you would like the score,” she said without looking at you. Her hand was now resting underneath the hem of your shirt while her fingers scratched your hip. “Since you’re a nerd for that kind of thing.”

“Uh huh,” you said; your own hand was rubbing small circles on her back. “I think you just wanted an excuse to watch a romantic movie.”

“Oh please,” she huffed. “Romance? With you around? You wish.”

“I most certainly do not,” you retorted quickly. “If I wanted romance I would find someone else.”

“You don’t think I’m romantic?” Tara said, finally sitting up just enough to turn her head and look at you. Her hand still stayed pressed to the stretch of exposed skin on your hip.

“No I don’t,” you said, your eyes stuck on hers. She was staring into your very soul and you didn’t want her to stop. “I think you’re a brat who knows how to get what she wants.”

“And what do you think I want?” She asked, now resting her chin on your chest, right over your heart that you knew she could feel racing.

She was teasing you, you knew that much. It was in the well-concealed smile on her lips and the way her eyes stayed locked with yours. Her question gave you pause and you knew you couldn’t answer. Tara had a habit of leading you on and then pushing you away once you were close enough for something to actually happen. If you hadn’t both been drunk at the frat party all those weeks ago, nothing would have ever happened.

“I don’t know,” you said softly, quietly.

Her smile grew slightly as she moved, pushing herself up until she was straddling your waist and looking down at you. The movie continued in the background but you didn’t care. All you could focus on was the feel of her small hands splayed across your chest and your hands on her hips as she leaned so close you were breathing the same air.

“Sam can’t interrupt this time,” Tara spoke slowly, her lips barely brushing against your own. “Does anyone else know where this place is?”

You opened your mouth to speak, but the words got caught in your throat when you felt the slightest roll of her hips. It was small, barely noticeable, but you certainly felt it. Had she done it on purpose? She probably had, Tara was cunning. With a singular huff, you closed your mouth and shook your head in the negative.

“Then I know what I want,” she said, and you didn’t have to guess what she meant before she pressed her lips to yours.

You felt more than heard her exhale softly through her nose, the warm air brushing against your cheek. Her lips were soft and tasted of strawberry cheesecake; a chapstick Mindy had admitted to giving her after your first movie night. Her fingers curled in against your chest, and her nails left the most delicious sting.

Both of your hands slid under her shirt, resting on the warm skin of her waist. Your thumb accidentally brushed against one of her scars, leaving her to shiver above you only for a moment before she leaned further into you, her kiss now feverish. You tried it again, brushing your thumb over the scar with a gentleness you usually kept reserved. In return, her nails dug deeper into your chest and she lightly bit your bottom lip until you let out a small groan.

She leaned in to kiss you again as her hands left your chest. With the warmth gone, you wanted to pull them back until she grabbed your own hands. Your breath caught in your throat again as she guided your hands up her sides, pushing her shirt up until you could feel the lace of her bra. She let go of your hands before grabbing her shirt and pulling it over her own head, tossing it onto the blanket beside you.

You wanted her to sit up so you could look at her, admire every inch of skin currently exposed to you. The frat party had been so crazy, and you had both been so drunk, you hadn’t been able to even look at her. Then Sam had interrupted before you had gotten the chance. Now was the perfect time. 

You tried to pull back, pushing her softly with your hands so you could see, but her hands quickly flew to your cheeks to hold you still. Her lips found yours again and refused to let you go. As much as you loved kissing her and feeling her hands on your skin, you just wanted to get the chance to see her every curve and freckle and scar.

“Let me see you,” you mumbled against her lips, but she was already shaking her head before you could finish.

“Just kiss me,” she said; she didn’t give you much of a choice before leaning in once again.

When her hands held your face a little tighter, you knew she wasn’t going to give in. And as much as you wanted to admire her, you would let her make the choices this time. Besides, there were other ways you could admire her. Your hands went around her back to find the clasp of her bra, and even though you were no professional, it only took you a little bit of fumbling before the straps fell down her shoulders.

Tara removed the useless bra as quickly as she had her shirt, and even though you tried to look at her for even a second, her hands found your face once again. It would have been comical how much she didn’t want you to see her if you hadn’t been so distracted with her soft skin against your fingertips.

With feather light touches, you dragged your fingers across her skin until you could brush your knuckles against the side of her breasts. She exhaled through her nose again, but you didn’t move. If she wouldn’t pull away long enough for you to look at her, then you weren’t going to make a move without her say so. You just wondered how long it would take her before she-

-a door slammed shut.

You sat up quickly, nearly knocking Tara off your lap in the process. With wide eyes, you looked around the empty room, scanning for the source of the noise. It had sounded like the outside door, but that didn’t make any sense. In all your years of visiting the abandoned building, no one had ever come in.

Titanic continued to play in the background.

“Should we-”

-you cut Tara off with a finger pressed to her lips. You did your best to tune out the movie, listening intently in the direction of the only open door of the building. Focus. It almost sounded like…

“Come on,” you whispered as you grabbed Tara’s hand and pulled her after you. You were still vaguely aware of the fact that she was topless, but as the footsteps came closer, you didn’t care. You could fix that after you pulled her into a closet with you.

The door clicked closed behind your back as you pushed Tara further into the empty equipment closet. You pulled your shirt over your head and handed it to her quickly before pressing your ear to the door, listening for any other sounds of an intruder. Once she had put your shirt on, you felt her body pressed up against yours, listening just as intently.

Through the door, you couldn’t hear footsteps, but you did hear the movie stop suddenly. Tara’s body shook slightly against yours, and you looked down to see the rapid rise and fall of her chest. Her eyes were wide and she was holding her stomach. Where she got stabbed, your brain pieced together.

You continued to listen far after all sounds had vanished from the empty room. No footsteps, no movie, nothing moving around, nothing. Part of you was telling you to stay in the closet; there was no need for anyone to get killed. But you couldn’t stay in there forever…

“What are you doing?” Tara hissed when you grabbed the doorknob.

“I’m gonna make sure they’re gone,” you whispered back.

“Are you stupid?” She asked. “You’re gonna get yourself killed.”

“I grew up in the closet, Tara, I’m not gonna die in one too,” you shot back.

“Please don’t go out there,” she said softly as she reached out to grab your arm. “I don’t want you to go out there.”

The quiver of her bottom lip was enough to break your heart. Try as she might, you knew Tara was still scarred from Woodsboro, both physically and mentally. And you understood, you did, but someone had to be brave for the both of you. There was no way in hell you were going to make her go check for a murderer.

“I’ll be right back,” you said before leaning down and pressing a chaste kiss to her lips. “Promise.”

You didn’t give her time to argue with you before easing the door open slowly, closing it just as quietly once you were on the other side. Even just the few seconds with your back to the room was enough to have your pulse rushing so fast you were dizzy. But when you turned around, the room was as empty as you had left it.

Each potential hiding spot you knew of was empty. Not the other closets, or the hallway, or behind the bleachers pushed up against the wall. There was no one there, and that both made you feel better and more terrified. But with no one around, you needed to hurry and get Tara and get the hell out of there.

“It’s me,” you said through the door before Tara opened it quickly, throwing her arms around your neck and pressing herself into you.

“Let’s just get out of here,” she said quickly, and you only nodded in agreement before you went over to the pallet and started packing everything up.

It only took a few moments, but Tara was on edge the entire time. She tried to act like she was fine, but you could see the shake of her hands and the glazed over look in her eyes. She wasn’t fine by any means, and that was more than okay, but guilt started to crawl its way up your throat. She kept your shirt on, and you weren’t going to bring it up. Lucky for you, you always kept a jacket in your bag, and you quickly threw it on.

“I’m sorry,” you said once you finally dragged Tara out of the building and back onto the streets. Thankfully the sun was still out, or you swore she would have had a panic attack. “No one has ever come by before.”

“It’s fine,” she said quickly.

“Can I walk you home?” You asked.

She didn’t say anything, but grabbed your hand and held it tight. You took that as a yes and started making your way down the streets of New York, knowing how to get to her apartment by heart. It was a silent trip, but quick, and before you knew it you were standing on the stoop of her apartment building.

“I’m sorry again,” you repeated. “Guess I blew my chance, huh?”

“You didn’t blow it,” Tara said with a quiet sigh. “How about a do over?”

“Seriously?” You asked incredulously.

“Yeah.” She smiled softly. “But no more abandoned buildings.”

“Deal,” you said with your own smile and a light chuckle. “I don’t even think I’m going back for my projector.”

“Get going before Sam sees you,” Tara said as she pushed lightly against your stomach. “I don’t think I can handle her scolding.”

“Yes ma’am,” you said while stepping backwards. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“If you’re lucky,” she said before turning around and walking into her apartment building without a second glance.

With a small smile to yourself, you turned around and started the long trek back to your own apartment. You would need to come up with something not quite so risky for the next date. There were only so many do overs she would grant you, and if you got cockblocked one more time, you were going to combust. 

But third time’s the charm, right?

---

legally binded - 8

Jenna Ortega x F!Reader

masterlist | series mast. | prev. part | next part

Chapter 8: Beetlejuice and London Blues

Summary: After getting caught in some hot waters with the press, you are forced into an unexpected agreement with America's sweetheart, Jenna Ortega to save your career.

Warnings/Tags: dual!pov, famous!reader, actress!reader, mentions of substances, intoxication, mature language, real people. (do not read if any of these make you uncomfortable)

(this is all fiction!)

Note: hey y’all. I’m gonna be taking a break from this series for a bit after I post this. I’m gonna be real busy this summer, so LB updates probably won’t be weekly for a while. thanks for understanding!

Word Count: 8.2k+ (these are getting longer)

“Fuck me.”

A mistake.

You made a mistake.

Was your first thought when you woke up with the sun shining directly into your eyelids; the throbbing pain deep in your skull was the first symptom of your grave oversight. 

“Fuck you is right…” A loud voice pierces through the silence in the room and the pounding in your head worsened immediately. 

Turning over at a snails pace, you find Link leaning against the doorframe, with a bitter frown on his face. 

“What did I do?” You moaned, holding your head in your hands.

“Other than be a massive asshole? Drink yourself stupid.” He says bluntly, walking into the room and placing a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin on the bedside table.

Pushing yourself up, you continue to loudly groan despite the pounding in your skull and desperately reached for the medicine bottle. After popping two in and washing it down it some water, you leaned against the headboard with a heavy sigh.

Being ran over by an 18-wheeler and somehow managing to survive would be a fair comparison to your current condition.

“I don’t remember how I got back.” 

“We don’t know either, you just opened the door…”

“Right.” Hazy memories of last night’s escapades we’re starting to come back.

“What the hell, Y/N, we were looking for your ass for almost four hours.” He crossed his arms, staring you down as his nose flared in anger.

“Sorry…” You mumbled, closing your eyes. The familiar feeling of guilt rumbled in your chest the longer you met his judging eyes.

After sneaking off to the bathroom, you knew you had to take the opportunity to escape that after-party. You thought drinking your problems away and partying would help distract you from your argument with Jenna. But your efforts proved fruitless. The longer you stood in that loud room, the more suffocating it felt; Jenna’s words echoing mercilessly in your head. 

So you slipped out without letting anyone know. Dumb idea, I know.

You had full intentions of going for a walk to clear your head, thinking of what to say to Jenna and then making your way back to the hotel to wait for her so you could talk, but before that could happen…

“Well, well, well… look who it is.” 

Dropping your hand that was holding your phone limply by your side, you perk up. All thoughts of calling an Uber back to the hotel were forgotten as you turned; feeling your blood run cold immediately at the familiar voice.

“Damon.” You greet flatly. 

“Aw, come on, that’s how you greet an old friend?” He held a hand to his chest, walking forward. “Vegas was so long ago, don’t you miss my company?” 

“Not particularly no.” You cross your arms, standing your ground.

“You don’t mean that, baby…” He stood in your space, leaning into you. You held your head up, not intimidated by his presence.

“What are you even doing here? Last time I checked, you weren’t invited to the Met.” You grit. There’s no way his C-list ass was invited to one of the biggest social events of the year. 

“I was someone’s plus one.” He answered, shrugging.

You roll your eyes because of course he wasn't even invited. He was always sliming his way into events.

“Come on, we used to have so much fun…” He leaned closer.

“Get out of my face.” You grit, standing your ground.

“You don’t really blame me for Vegas, do you?” He stepped back, annoyance growing as his brows furrowed.

You bit back a laugh, spatting out. “Of course I do! You had coke on you – snorting that shit in a fucking strip club with me beside you. The hell were you thinking?”

He crossed his arms, anger steadily masking over his features. “You weren’t complaining about wanting to get fucked up before that. Actually, you were the one that begged me to leave L.A.”

You glare at him as you’re reminded of that weekend three months ago. “Clearly that was a mistake. The press thinks it was mine, Damon.”

He shrugged, smirking.  “Beats me.”

Your glare hardens as you clenched your jaw. “You’re an asshole.”

“Oh baby, you just found out?” His smug smile widens and you wanted nothing more than to punch it clean off his face. 

“Stay the fuck away from me if you know what's good for you.” You bark, eyes never leaving his.

His gaze twinkled in amusement at the challenge, paying no heed to it. Then he leans in close to your ear, whispering. “You’ll be back soon when you realize no one wants you.”

Your heart drops as his words ring in your ears. You keep your face impassive, not giving him the satisfaction of knowing his words affect you.

“Your little PR relationship with Jenna is cute. You guys almost have everyone convinced, but I know the truth. You’ll be back when Jenna realizes that you’re too broken to love.” He taunts, smiling widely. 

Your heart thrums so loudly against your chest that it makes your entire body throb in tandem.

“Fuck you.” You shove his chest firmly as he stumbled back a couple steps from the sheer force.

You don’t wait for a response as you leg it down the sidewalk, ignoring people’s questioning looks. You weren’t sure if they recognized you or if they were questioning why you were in a fancy suit on the streets of New York City but you didn’t care either way; just stomping off in no particular direction. Not giving anyone who may have recognized you, time to stop you.

You kept walking even as your legs begged for reprieve, taking sidestreets and alleyways to hide from prying eyes, hiding in the shadows. You lived in the Big Apple for a year for a role and in that time, you had gotten to know the city well; preferring to walk to familiarize yourself with new locations. 

“Where the hell were you?” Link questioned. You can hear the agitated tone in his words even as your eyes were closed. 

“I went for a walk.”

“You came back drunk.”

“I stopped by the liquor store.”

“You were gone for three hours.”

“It was a big bottle.”

He huffed. 

You crack an eyelid open, already noting his firmly-set jaw. “Okay, I’m sorry, truce?”

Even you know when you’re being an asshole. You note the dark circles and heavy bags under his eyes and it reminded you of the first time you came home after meeting Jenna. The moment Link opened the front door, he had the same expression on his face.

His jaw tightly clenched but his brows pulled in a way that showed his concern. 

Before you could spew any apology you had saved, he pulled you in for a hug, muttering on about how worried he was about your arrest. It made your throat close up and tears build in your eyes at how distressed he sounded. Even when you’ve fucked up, he was still worried about you. 

That familiar pang of guilt comes crawling back the longer he stared at you now with that same look.

Instead, he sighed, dropping his head in surrender and muttering, “truce.”

That makes you open your eyes fully, nodding. “Okay.”

He sat on the foot of the bed, posture more relaxed. “Seriously though, what were you thinking?”

Picking at the loose thread of the duvet, you couldn’t meet his inquiring gaze. “I really did just need some air at first. Then I was gonna go back to the hotel to wait for Jenna, to apologize… but then I saw Damon.”

His sharp intake of breath reaches your ears. “Did you–”

“No!” You were quick to answer. “No… but he was an asshole, said something that pissed me off and I just couldn’t go back to that party or see Jenna. So I kept walking, I think I ended up in Central Park.”

“What did he say?” His nostrils flared.

“Nothing important, I walked away.” You omit.

He conceded but you could see his reluctance anyway.

“And then what — you were walking around, drinking in the middle of Central Park?” He asked bewildered, like you were stupid. Which, hearing it out loud now, is a very stupid decision. It was a miracle you made it back safely.

“Yes…” You muttered, ashamed. “I know I fucked up.”

His laugh is loud and taunting. “Fucked up? We’re way past that. Jenna’s pissed at you and Jake and Sarah found out you two didn’t go to the same after-party. They’re expecting it to be a headline.”

You bang your head against the headboard, ignoring the worsening ache. You deserved it, anyway. “Shit, Jenna… where is she?”

He scoffed, “gone.”

You whipped your head to find his eyes, ignoring the queasiness it caused in your stomach or maybe it was news of Jenna’s departure. “What?”

“She got out of New York first thing in the morning.” He explained.

“Fuck…” You close your eyes again, sliding down the bed. Flashes of your anger bubbling over, reaching a boiling point and exploding on Jenna. You remember your harsh words and the hurt expression that takes over the other actress’ face as you spoke with unabated hatred. “What did I do?”

“Don’t know, I left the room – but whatever you said, it must’ve been pretty bad 'cause it looked like she was about to cry when she came out of your room.” He recounted; not bothering to sugar-coat it. There seems to be nothing and no one that can get to you other than Jenna. 

Maybe realizing that you’ve hurt her, will be the wake-up call that you needed.

“I fucked up.” You repeated, staring at the ceiling.

“I know, buddy.” He sighed, patting your leg. “But you’ll fix it. You always do…”

“I don’t know about this one man.”

Telling Jenna that you wanted to end this PR relationship with her? You just wanted to be mean and hurt her back and that makes Jenna right, you are an asshole.

“What did you even say?” 

You recounted the anger-filled words that you spewed through your drunken stupor, avoiding Link’s angry expression when you finished.

“Are you fucking serious? How could you say that?”

“It was a mistake… I didn’t mean it.” 

“You need to get your head out of your ass and apologize to that girl.” He huffed, getting off the bed. “Get up, our flight leaves in an hour… stupid idiot.” He muttered, walking off as he shook his head in disappointment. 

This time, you couldn’t even blame him. You are an idiot.

***

“Where’s Jenna?”

“She’s busy but she’s been briefed, we can start now..” Liv pursed her lips, leaning back in her seat. 

The tips of your hands start sweating at her words, not knowing what they could mean.

As soon as you landed back in Los Angeles, you had the day to yourself to recuperate after a long week in New York. You sent the other actress a text before the plane took off, asking if she made it back to L.A. safely but you never got a message back. 

You might’ve deserved that one.

There was no other proof of life from the actress other than when you asked if you could pick up your dog from her since she was looking after the pup before the Met. The only response you received was a text from her assistant saying Jenna’s driver would drop him off at your house later in the day.

Again, you might’ve deserved that one. 

As promised, her driver pulled up in a sleek blacked-out SUV with a dog cage in hand. Upon releasing the pup, you noted the new toy he refused to let go of.

Other than her team obviously playing the middleman between you and her, the only other sign that she was well was the Instagram post on her account of her night at the Met Gala; a variety by herself, showing off her Thom Browne gown, some at the after-party with Enrique and other celebrities.

You'd be lying if you said you didn’t feel the slight emptiness in your chest that she didn’t post you. In the late hours of your stalking, you failed to realize that she did in fact, post the two of you, just a couple of hours later.

As a solo picture, was the two of you kissing on the red carpet. You don’t know why the black heart emoji captioning the photo sends your own heart to a frenzy. If you stared at the photo long enough, it was almost like you can feel phantom sensations of her lips pressed against your own again.

You’re ashamed to admit how long it took for you to decide on a response before eventually settling on a white heart to comment back. 

You thank the heavens that Liv barely sleeps because you got a message from her at that exact moment about a meeting the following morning; distracting you from Jenna and that stupid black heart. 

So that’s where you found yourself, in the dark, clutching the armrests of the stiff office chair in nervousness, the longer Liv and Jake waited to explain why you’re here. 

“It’s an update about Vegas,” Jake explained, leaning on the desk, and staring down at you.

“What about Vegas?” Your brows furrowed in confusion.

“Sarah found out who leaked the coke…” Liv chimed in. “The source comes from a Twitter account, claims she’s one of the girls in the club, and said she saw you taking a bump, as well. Gossip sites got a hold of it and spread it like wildfire.”

“That’s a lie, I was passed out.” Not the best argument, but it’s the truth.

“She claimed that it came from you.”

“Bullshit!”

“Of course, it’s bullshit. But we’re in damage control now... The police still hasn’t made a comment about pursuing a possible case against you ‘cause there’s nothing there. We’re just dealing with rumours, at this point but I don’t want you to worry about that.” Liv reassured, holding a hand out. She could see the frustration etched on your face.

You rolled your eyes, slumping against the seat. “So, what do we do?”

“The PR with Jenna is going well. It did a good job at covering up headlines about your initial arrest – but now that Vegas headlines are back, we need to work on overtime.”

Immediately, you shake your head, brows furrowing. “I thought the relationship was only meant to last three months?” 

It’ll be three months by the end of this week and Jenna has yet to talk to you since your drunken night after the Met Gala. 

“Yes… and I also said less the faster people forget your night at the county jail, clearly, they haven’t forgotten.” She raised a brow in challenge, and you opted to bite your tongue 'cause she did say that.

“Even then, how would you get Jenna to agree? She’s not exactly my biggest fan, right now.” You muttered, looking down at your hands. Jenna’s probably rejoicing at the fact that this agreement was almost over. After the disaster that was the Met, she’s probably laughing at the proposition of extending this agreement longer.

“Is that why you two didn’t go to the same after-party?” Jake flicked a brow, more so curious. You’re surprised he doesn’t too mad about it.

“You don’t even wanna know.” You closed your eyes in exhaustion at the thought of that night, missing Liv and Jake’s silent conversation, debating if it was time for a parently intervention. But you caught on to their silence.

“Please don’t lecture me on my dating life,” you grumbled, “it’s the last thing I want to hear.”

“Dating life?” Jake piped up, eyes lighting up.

“Did you and Jenna actually catch feelings?” Liv asked, a small smile on her lips.

“I literally said don’t.” You glared and the bite in your tone seemed to get them to relent; dropping the conversation. “And don‘t say catch feelings, it sounds wrong coming from you.”

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that, for your sake.” Liv glares before looking at her business partner.

You don’t comment on the weighted glances they keep sending each other.

“Anyways…” Jake cleared his throat, “Lucky for you, Jenna already signed the updated contract—we just need your signature, that’s why you’re here.”

You to sit up straight, unsure if you heard your manager correctly. “What? She did?”

Maybe she wasn’t laughing at the proposition of extending this agreement. But why would she sign it? After what you said to her in New York, you figured she’d be on her merry way out the door and your life.

Liv reached over to the side, cracking open a thick document, and flipped to a page before sliding it over to you; a pen on top.

Beside Jenna’s ink-printed name on the paper, is the same neat handwritten signature that you noticed all those months ago. Your sight flickers down; the empty line with your name just below waiting to be signed seemed menacing this time. As you continue to scan the page and you settle on a certain line causing your heart to stop momentarily.

“A year?” 

Liv nodded, lips thinly pressed. “People are invested. Your names are selling headlines and getting clicks, it’s working. But not well enough to cover Vegas. We need to build you two as a brand, together.”

Suddenly the decision felt weighted.

“A brand?” You drawl, the words feeling wrong on your lips.

Liv sighed, “I know how it sounds… but we need Vegas to go away. After your guys’ appearance at the Met Gala, brands have been calling Jake and Sarah about potential deals featuring you two. You and Jenna sell.” 

You don’t answer, electing to look away to ignore their probing eyes. 

“There’s talk that they want to exclude you from the Dune 2 press run,” Jake admitted after a beat, his heavy-set eyes staring at you unapologetically. 

A knife to the gut is equivalent to how you feel. “What?”

Jake nodded, propping one hand on his desk to hold him up as leaned on it. “I’ve been going back and forth with the producers – reassuring them that you’re not what the press have saying. But like we said, we’re in damage control. SNL, Coachella, the Met Gala, those were good attempts at covering things up to get good press, but it’s not enough.”

Glancing down at the document again, a part of you still hesitates to pick up the pen.

“Did you not hear what I just said?” Jake asked.

“I–I need some time, to think about it.” 

“What’s there to think about?” Liv asked, equally confused. “Jenna already signed it.”

“It’s another year, Liv.” You raised your head to meet her eyes, in shock. Ignoring her reassurances. It doesn’t matter if Jenna signed it. There’s no way you’re letting this go on any longer. “That’s a long time.”

Flicking a brow, she answered, “Yes, it’s a long time, but we need to do this. There’s no other way..” She glanced at Jake, standing beside her, sending him a look.

You shake your head.  Mind already made up the moment you saw just how much longer this needed to continue.

“Well, find another way. I’m not dragging Jenna into my mess any longer.”

“What?” Jake dropped his crossed arms, watching as you frantically stood from the seat. “You wanna throw away the last three months?”

“Yes.” You stood your ground, crossing your arms.

Liv rolled her eyes, uncrossing her legs as she stands. You track her confusedly before you realize she’s walking off to Jake’s alcohol collection.

“That was a gift, Olivia.” Jake chided, as he watched the woman pour a hefty shot of the brown liquid from an expensive-looking bottle. 

You roll your eyes at her dramatics. 

“Are we dealing with the same thing right now?” She hissed in pain, placing the shot glass on the table as she gestured to you.

You shake your head, regaining their attention. “I have a career — movies and events lined up. I can’t play someone’s girlfriend for a year on top of that.”

“Y/N, there’s no other way… we’ll find a way to make it work with both your schedules but right now, we need to capitalize on the all of the attention.”

You huffed, annoyed that they were ignoring you. “I don’t care. Find another way. I’m not signing this.” Then you smack a firm hand on the document before turning to walk out of the office.

This has gone on long enough. You refuse to drag Jenna down any more than you already have. She’s better off without you anyway.

***

“I’m coming, I’m coming! Can you wait?!”

With haste, you stumble on your flip-flops when they tangle on your feet as you walked toward your front gate. The buzzing kept ringing out in the dark, quiet air. You desperately wished you bought a house with see-through gates so you could tell off whoever was repeatedly banging on your buzzer.

You lived in a gated neighbourhood, so you weren’t too worried about a random stranger roaming around. You assumed it was just one of your neighbours ringing the bell. 

“What?” You yank the door open, stepping out. The street lamps on the sidewalk don’t do well to light the figure standing across from you. But even in the dark, you instantly recognize her smaller stature.

She stepped back as you close the door behind you, now standing on the sidewalk. Your house was situated on a cul-de-sac and rarely anyone roamed the streets at this time. 

“What are you doing here?”  You squint, walking closer. 

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Was her answer, words practically dripping in anger.

You stand straighter at her tone, brows knotting together. “What?”

“Who the hell do you think you are, trying to make decisions for me.” She bit back, face contorting in fury. Glancing down, you note her white-knuckled grip on a manila folder.

“We shouldn’t talk about this here.” You sighed, scanning the street. It was empty and quiet but you never know who was lurking around. 

Walking over to the gate, you held it open, “let’s talk inside.”

She stood her ground, feet firmly planted on the concrete. You can see the sharp edges from her jaw clenching even in the poorly-lit street.

“Jenna.” You said knowingly, titling your head to the side.

You hear her huff loudly before stomping past you and walking up the path to your front door. Choosing not to comment on the fact that she’s never been to your house but she’s walking like she has been. Following closely behind, you can’t help but let your eyes wander down, taking note of her outfit.

As always, no matter what she wore, it hung off her expertly, like it was made just for her. You were so distracted looking at her… outfit, that you failed to realize you made it to the front door. 

“Are you gonna open the door or what?’ She raised a brow, not commenting on how quickly you averted your eyes as soon as she turned around.

“Yeah…” You muttered, sliding past her to open the double doors. 

When you make it to the foyer, Jenna is already confronting you before the door even closes. “Sign the contract.”

“Demanding much?” You raised a brow, shutting the door.

“Sign the damn contract, Y/N.” She said firmly, leaving no room for argument.

“What are you doing, Jenna? This is your chance to get out of this.” You wave a hand, gesturing between you and her.

She laughed unamused, “Get out of this? If you think I can leave this PR relationship in the middle of rumours of your arrest and there’s a way I won’t be painted like the bad guy, then you’re really dumber than I thought.”

You clenched your jaw, not answering. 

“Sign the contract.” She repeated, taking your silence as a win.

“No.”

“Why not?” 

“I’m not dragging you into this mess.”

She laughed again, this time it was plainly mocking. “I’m already in this mess. I’m deep in it if you haven’t noticed. Maybe if you pulled your head out of your ass every once in a while you’d realize everything we do is attached to each other, now. There isn’t anywhere I can go without being asked about you or our relationship. So no, I’m not letting you make this decision for me. ‘Cause I’m making it for us.”

You stared at her. The fury in her eyes and tension in her shoulders were noticeable even from where you stood; it didn’t aid in easing the mellowing guilt in your chest.

“It’s all from a business standpoint, don’t look into it.” She glared.

This time, you were certain you deserved that. 

Jenna walked up to you, pushing the manila folder against your chest aggressively. You meet her narrowed eyes staring up at you. “Sign it.”

Then she walked off, slamming the door shut behind her.

***

“How’s the missus?”

“How’s yours?” Tom joked back, handing over a steaming coffee cup. Graciously grabbing it with both hands, you eagerly sip on the bitter drink as the London native settles on the patio chair across you.

Although it was considered a warm day in London, there was a cool breeze that wafted through the air penetrating through your jacket. 

“Very funny.” You muttered, ignoring the heat rising up your neck.

“I’m just fuckin with ya.” He chuckled, cheeks crinkling in amusement. 

“She actually has day off from filming, right now.” You placed the paper cup on the table, fiddling with the cover. “So, at home.”

“Beetlejuice 2, right? Insane gig, you must be proud of her.” He smiled, gauging your reaction.

The smile that creeps up on your face is genuine, “Yeah, I am. They just started filming last week, I know she’s killing it.”

“Have you visited her on set?”

You blushed, not even considering that a possibility. “No uh– not yet.”

“Either way, it’s great. I’m happy for you guys.” He said sincerely, but he sees through you. “But, what’s with the long face?”

You sighed, leaning back. Taking a moment to glance around at the quiet street, it was still early morning and the hustle of the Brit actor’s town was still non-existent.

You’ve known Tom for a long time, meeting him during your stint in the MCU. He’s become a brother of sorts, as you two navigated the Marvel fame throughout all those years. As soon as you landed in England, he was the first person you texted.

“It’s complicated– with Jenna.”

“How so?” He flicked a brow, sipping on his drink.

That prompted a long retelling of how you met the other actress (definitely breaching your contract, but hey, you’ll send over an NDA) the events of SNL, Coachella, the Met, and recently, how you’ve been forced to follow her to London as she films Beetlejuice 2 to support her as she films the follow-up to the iconic horror-classic.

“Wow…” His brows raised in shock, mouth hanging wide open. 

You raise an expectant brow. “Well? What should I do?”

“You asking me?” He pointed to himself and if he wasn’t one of your closest friends and Hollywood’s biggest faces, you’d punched him straight.

You huffed, brows knitting together. “Yes, I’m asking you. You and Z are the epitome of a healthy relationship. Tell me what to do.”

Tom rubbed his stubbled jaw, relaxing in his seat as he thought of what to say. “It’s not that easy. Z and I actually want to make it work.”

“What does that mean?” You sat up straighter, a bit defensive.

“Mate, throughout that whole story, you kept talking about this relationship like it was the worst thing in the world. Making up excuses for your actions as to why you can’t open up to Jenna— running away. You guys haven’t talked about anything. She doesn’t know about Vegas, or how you felt about Coachella… You also have yet to apologize for how you disappeared for hours and then acted like an asshole in New York. You just followed her to London, expecting to live under one roof like everything’s alright. It’s a bomb waiting to explode.”

You… couldn’t say anything to that.

He bit back a laugh at your wide-eyed reaction, “Listen, I’m no expert on relationships – I’m still trying to find my way. But one thing I’ve learned, is that when two people want to make it work they will, but that only happens with honest communication. She doesn’t even know how you feel about her… maybe start there.”

“What if it’s too late? What if too much has happened for us to fix things?” You questioned, meeting his kind eyes and allowing him to see the vulnerability in yours.

“Then you start over, build from the ground up.”

You knew his relationship has also seen its fair share of rocky moments. Noting his slew of ex-girlfriends before eventually finding his way back to the Euphoria actress. That made you feel a bit better about your situation.

“Let me ask you this,” He piques up, leaning his elbows on the table, fingers cupping his chin, “what are you so scared of?”

You already know your answer. “I don't want to break her heart.”

He hums, pondering your response, “It sounds like you don’t want her to break yours, mate.”

This time, you’re the one humming as a response, unsure of what to say because he’s right. There’s never been anyone you’ve allowed to get close enough to even break your heart. 

The thought that someone could take your heart and stomp on it whenever they wanted is terrifying concept.

“Look,” he speaks up when you don’t answer, “it sounds like you really care about Jenna. I’ve seen pictures of you two, even if you say it’s just for the cameras. I’ve never seen you look so smitten. Talk to her, you never know what could happen if you stop getting in your own way.”

You flushed, choosing not to comment on his words. “Ho-how you’d see the pictures?”

“You two are everywhere and Z sent me that picture of the two of you with her niece. Very cute,” He winked cheekily.

You rolled your eyes. “Alright, I get it. I’ll talk to her.”

“Finally, Link owes me a drink.” He settled back into his seat, sipping on his drink.

You rolled your eyes, shooting the Brit a glare. “You two are annoying.”

But he just chuckled, trying to hide it with a sip of coffee before speaking up again. “Hey, once you get settled here in London, why don’t you come to Monaco with me for the F1 Grand Prix?”

Your gaped at the offer, “You serious?”

“Yeah, it’ll do you some good. Forget about Vegas, the press and Jenna, for a bit?” He leaned in, raising his brows at the proposition, a grin smacked on his teeth. “Me, you, a couple of friends and some cars. What’d ya say?”

You’d take a moment to think over your options but you were already sold.

“I’m in.” You grinned.

***

It’s been three days since you landed in London, following Jenna across the Atlantic Ocean as she filmed Beetlejuice 2. You're still trying to adjust to the time zone difference but that’s really the least of your worries because it’s been terribly awkward living under the same roof as Jenna.

You were seriously considering paying for a hotel during your time here but maybe spending thousands of dollars, or pounds… on a hotel room every night in London for a month straight isn’t the best business decision.

Clearly Jake and Sarah agreed because when you called Jake he said and I quote ‘there’s no other way for you to live anywhere other than with Jenna’ — yeah right.

At least she’s speaking to you — which is a step. Jenna had to fly over to the UK a week earlier and in that time it seems the tensions between you have simmered down. But, her responses are restrained, overly polite, like she didn’t know how to talk to you anymore.

You ignored how your heart clenched at her snipped, cold responses.

“Hi,” She greeted, as soon as you made it down the hallway then living room. Eyes tracking your every move as you shuffled to the kitchen, placing a paper bag atop the counter.

“Hey, how was your day off?” You greeted, glancing up at her momentarily.

“It was alright, I just walked around; got to know the neighbourhood. What about you? You were gone by the time I woke up...” Jenna asked, hating how you averted your gaze from her so quickly these days.

“I met up with a friend over at Kingston.” You replied, opening the fridge to grab a bottle of water. 

“Tom Holland?”

Turning, surprised she knew that but she answered before you could even ask. “I saw some pictures on Instagram.”

You purse your lips, nodding; not really surprised the paparazzi discovered your outing with the Brit actor. The press never sleeps, even when you’re in another continent.  “Oh, I see… well, he says hello, by the way.”

Jenna perked up surprised. “He did?”

You nodded but said nothing else. 

“You were gone for a while, though.” She added.

“We also grabbed dinner.” You’d usually make an annoyed quip about the sudden interrogation but at this point, you were just glad she’s talking to you.

“Did you have fun?” She asked. You don’t miss the slow, drawled tone that accompanied the question like she was unsure if she should keep the conversation afloat or let it fizzle out.

“Yes, I did actually.” You find yourself saying. A day away from the tenseness in this apartment was a nice change.

Jenna wanted to interject and ask why you looked peeved in the photos and videos she saw. She’s familiar with the tightly wound brows and flared nostrils that you create when you’ve gone off on a rant. 

She couldn’t help but wonder what you two were talking about. Instead, she kept her mouth shut and nodded. “That’s nice...”

Sighing under your breath, you try not to make a reaction and set off an argument with the other actress but the awkward responses were getting old and it’s only your third day here. There’s no way you can handle walking on eggshells around her for another minute.

Shufflling closer to the couch where Jenna sat; gaze still tracking you. You send her a timid smile, placing a paper cup atop the table across from her.

A peace offering, of sorts.

“The coffee shop I was at this morning is known for their hot chocolate, so I got you one on the way back.”

She blinked, evidently surprised at the gesture. You take her silence as a chance to sit on the armchair just across.

“Call it a truce?” You added, sending a sheepish smile. 

Other than the episode of Breaking Bad playing in the background, it’s dead silent in the apartment.

You didn’t comment on how she rewatching an episode that the two of you had already seen.

Jenna stayed mute, just watching you but reached out for the hot chocolate on the coffee table then leaned back on the couch, pulling her legs up to her chest. 

You considered it as an olive branch.

“I’m sorry for how I acted in New York — I know I worried you.” You gauged her reaction but she averted her gaze to the coffee table, on the cup she was fiddling with — anywhere but your own eyes. “You’re right, I am an asshole and I am so, so sorry Jenna. How can I make it up to you?”

Your question finally has her meeting your eyes, voice cold. “You can’t.”

You sighed, “come on, Jen. There has to be something.”

“You can’t because I’m not ready to forgive you yet.” She reiterated and you slumped back against the cushion, defeated.

“Okay…” You accepted. With a slow nod, you stood up about to walk off to your bedroom and lock yourself inside for the remainder of the night.

Maybe you can try again tomorrow.

Jenna huffed, “where are you going?”

Spinning around, confused; you pointed to the closed door down the hall, “my room? I’m giving you space.”

She stands up, agitation etched on her face and placed the paper cup on the wooden table with force. “No, Y/N, that’s not what I want.”

You flick a brow up, still bemused at her sudden hostility. “So, then what do you want, Jenna?”

Probably like her, you were growing tired of the constant fighting and miscommunication that seems to occur every time a serious talk needed to happen.

Her forehead created lines as she raised both brows, “to talk! I want you to talk to me. Open up to me — I never know what you’re actually thinking. You say I’m leading you on but do you even realize that you're doing the same to me?!”

She finished off with a sharp breath and widened eyes like she didn’t expect to reveal all of that.

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to remember the countless advice you’ve been receiving from everyone. Reminding yourself of the unpleasantness that took home in your chest from being away and fighting with the other actress. You didn’t enjoy receiving the cold shoulder from her.

“That’s not what I was trying to do, I swear.” You tried to say calmly despite your heart hammering widly in your chest; fight or flight instincts begging for you to flee.

She studied you with a cautious gaze, you don’t blame her for not believing you. “I like you, a lot – more than I ever expected.”

Your confession has her brows raising in surprise. Not expecting you to say that. You take her stunned silence as a chance to keep talking.

 “I think we both can say that the way we came into each other’s life was less than… conventional.” You chuckled to fill the tense silence, “I’m not exactly sure when or where, but along the way that I started to fall for you.”

You sit back down on the armchair prompting Jenna to perch on the couch, across from you. The space in between you and the other actress feels like a million miles away. Feeling like your nerves are shot from her indecipherable look, alone.

“I really care about you, Jenna and you’re right. I haven’t been honest with you, about anything but especially over Vegas and that’s not fair… so I guess I should start there.”

Jenna can’t even hide her surprise that you’re actually opening up. Never mind confessing how you feel about her. Instead, she keeps her mouth shut and allows you to speak.

“Vegas was just a bad decision. I think I was overwhelmed— I had a busy year last year and nothing was letting up. I begged this… friend that I had to skip town, go to Vegas and fuck shit up. Well, we did. When the cops got to the strip club, I was passed out drunk and Damon—uh the friend, was doing coke beside me. Uh, I'm not really sure what happened next but they took me to jail and next thing I knew I was waking up to someone telling me I’d been bailed out… Jake said they tried to pick us both up for drug charges but when they realized it wasn’t mine, they charged me with a drunken disorderly, instead.”

Somewhere along the way, your gaze dropped in shame, unable to match Jenna’s intense stare. You felt mortified as you recounted the tales of your criminal escapade. It’s not a night you choose to relive or retell for a reason, and definitely not a story that you want Jenna knowing. 

But she’s right, she is as deep in this mess as you are. She deserves to know the whole story if you two had to keep this PR stunt going for another year. And if this relationship had any real chance of surviving.

“I heard about it… when it first happened. Sarah was the one to tell me about the coke, that’s why I called you a drug user when we first met…” Jenna admitted, “she said it wasn’t yours but then that headline claimed it was dropped before the Met and you didn’t say anything—“

“I know, I know and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have waited until the last minute to say something.” You hesitated. You’ve never done well at being confronted with the repercussions of your bad decisions, much less having to explain them. “I was scared—“

Your voice cracked, cursing inwardly you fought through the unpleasant thickness in your throat. That makes Jenna meet your eyes, watching as you blinked away the tears beginning to cloud your vision.

Her gaze softens… never seeing you so vulnerable. Continuing to observe you for a few seconds before giving in, “come here.”

You look up at her extended hand and how she patted the open space next to her. Your legs work against you, already standing to walk over and sit.

When you do, she’s turning her whole body to find your eyes. This time her body language is open and inviting rather than the reserved, tense stature you’ve grown accustomed to.

“Sorry…” You wiped the corner of your eyes.

She shakes her head, “don’t be.”

You clear your throat, forcing yourself to meet her kind eyes. She waits for you to patiently speak.

“I was scared.” You repeated.

“I was scared of my feelings for you. That week at your parents' house… was the first time I felt welcomed in a long time. It’s just been me and Link and L.A. for so long, I-I forgot what it was like to have a village around you. I’m sorry if your family sees me differently now.” 

You felt a pang of shame wash over you. But Jenna’s shaking her head, scooting closer — knees touching. “They don’t. My dad and sisters are a little mad but they actually pushed me to talk to you — even when I was mad. They know how the media loves to twist things, they’ve seen it with me, so they try to not pay attention to it.”

She doesn’t know how you did it but you have somehow won her overprotective family over. 

Jenna’s week away from you was needed yet miserable at the same time. After your drunken rant, Jenna was the one who found herself running away. Knowing that this time, she was the one who couldn’t be around you. 

Your words hurt, for lack of a better explanation. The way you spewed them so easily, so surely, was a memory that she replayed over and over again while she was giving you the cold shoulder.

It almost made her give in… to cut the tie with you. Give you what you want — be left alone. But then she remembers her conversation with Hailee, with her mom, with her sisters, with everybody who’s been around you.

It’s comical how everyone can see it but you two.

As if it were written in the stars, a divine intervention seems to always save you two just before the brink of no return. When Jenna found out you were being forced to live with her in London for a month while she films Beetlejuice 2 and you — well she doesn’t know what work you’re doing here yet because she can’t get herself to say more than two words to you — she didn’t know if she should be happy or dreading it.

But then you landed and it’s been a tense weekend since your arrival. You and her seem to share the sentiment of not knowing how to act or speak around the other. Jenna started leaning on dreading it the longer the awkward conversations occurred.

But now you’re here, opening up.

“Are you sure?” You asked a bit croaky; throat a bit tight.

You stare into the other actress’ dark orbs and for the first time ever, it feels like you can finally read her. Hesitantly, she reached out to grasp your hand, firmly clasping it. “I’m sure.”

Clenching your jaw, you try to keep the clouding in your vision at a minimum. Inhaling a sharp stuttered breath, you nodded, “g-good.”

“I’m sorry for how I’ve handled everything since meeting you. It was a lot… dealing with the hate, the arrest and then suddenly realizing how I feel about you. So I ran — like I always do, and that makes me an asshole ‘cause I hurt you. I can deal with everyone being angry with me, I'm used to it. But I can’t stand it coming from you… So you can be mad, but I won’t stop trying to make it up to you.”

Jenna sees nothing but honesty in your fierce, unblinking gaze. It has her heart thudding rudely in her rib cage. She blinked, trying to control her wavering voice, “You’re right… you never talked about Vegas until the last minute and that wasn’t fair of you. But I also never asked you about it either, even though I knew some of the story. I thought we’d do this PR stunt and then go on with our lives….”

You sniffled, eyes feeling scratchy as you listened to her side. You couldn’t keep the stray tear that ran down your cheek at bay. Looking down, you missed Jenna’s softening eyes.

Moving to wipe away the tear, embarrassment ran through you instantly. You tried to pull away from Jenna’s grasp to wipe it but she grabbed it back, tightening her grip. Then she bring her free hand up, swiping the wetness away with a gentle touch that you didn’t feel deserving of.

She squeezed your hand, as she feels you freeze at her ministrations. Your cheek burns against her soft palm. “But, then you met my family and spent time with us and… suddenly you weren’t so bad. Y/N, I like you too.”

This felt like a breakthrough or a light at the very end of a long, dark tunnel in your relationship. 

“So do I.” You repeated timidly, allowing your cheek to rest against her steady hand. Granting the grounding touch despite your racing nerves.

“I’m sorry about what I said in New York,” she swipes her thumb across your cheek, averting her eyes to glance at her actions. You watch her as she does so. 

“You're not an asshole. You’re actually one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met… when you want to be.” Her eyes flicker back to you, a hint of a smile playing on her lips as she gauges your reaction. You couldn’t help the laugh that escapes; easing the slight tension that’s built in the room. “I was just so angry about being left out that I decided to lash out at you. I’m sorry too, I didn’t mean any of it.”

“I forgive you.” You decided to be brave and placed a reassuring hand on her knee. Jenna watches your eyes, not saying anything. Only removing her hand from your cheek to brush some hair away from your sight. Then she drops her palm to rest atop your still-conjoined hands.

“I really, really like you.” She confesses just above a whisper.

“So do I.” You chimed in quickly. She sends you an amused smile before clearing her throat. That’s when you realized it, “but I’m sensing a but...”

You watch as her grin contorts sadly, as she sighed heavily, “it’s not the right time.”

Feeling a pang of disappointment, you nodded nevertheless, averting your eyes. “Oh.”

If somehow there was space between the two of you, there certainly isn’t any, now, as she moved closer, feeling like skin pressing against one another is the only thing that can ground the younger actress. 

“I feel like we went from hating each other to being thrown in New York – SNL.” Jenna tilts her head down, hoping to meet your gaze again, it proves fruitful when she grabs your glance. “Us.. in that dressing room, I know you felt it too.”

Breathing out carefully, you confessed. “I did.”

Jenna sent you a pleased smile, “Then you left for Coachella and I was mad at you again… I even made your driver take you to my parents just so I could see you again cause even when I was mad –  I couldn’t stop thinking about almost kissing you.”

Your heart thumped as she confessed everything.

“My mom set us up with the single bed thing, though.” Jenna laughed as joined. The thought of her family secretly rooting for you two had your stomach in a twist. “The way you were with my family that week… I don’t know. I started seeing you differently and I couldn’t help but kiss you before your performance…”

“I wasn’t complaining.” You shook your head.

“Shut up.” She smacked your arm, making you smile. “We skipped so many steps and just jumped into the relationship part.”

“Yeah… we did.” 

“I want to make this work but I think—“

“I got a lot of shit to figure out.” You chuckled, cutting her off.

“We got a lot of shit to figure out.” She corrected. “And in between filming Beetlejuice–”

“I understand, Jen.” You squeezed her hand.

“I need some time, to figure all of this out because I wanna do it right – with you.” Her voice drops to a whisper. You try to disregard how her gaze fell lower, finding your lips. 

Mentally wishing the other actress can’t hear how loudly your heart is thumping.

“I’ll be here waiting.” 

It wasn’t the conclusion you expected but it felt like a step in the right decision. She’s right, there is a lot that you two need to figure out. Separately and together. Her eyes snap back to you, looking relieved, like it was exactly what she needed to hear.

“I’m not saying I’m not open to never, possibly– you know.” Jenna blushed, as she stumbled over her words. “But I’d like us to be friends first, get to know each other before we pursue that. I-Is that okay?”

You felt bolder at her confession, finally knowing how she feels about you. Bringing your entwined hands up, you place a delicate kiss on her the top of her hands. “That’s okay, I’ll be here when you’re ready for me.”

“You’re already breaking the rules…” She jokes but her tone sounded wispy as she stared down at the way your lips ghosted over her hand. 

You flick a brow, “we have rules?”

She sends you a pointed look, calling your name flatly.

Rolling your eyes, you lean back, dropping her hands. “Right, sorry… friends definitely don’t do that.”

“You’re an idiot.” You didn’t know an insult could sound better than any piece of music you’ve ever listened to. She hasn’t called you that since Coachella. You think, the term of endearment is starting to grow on you, having missed her reciprocated banter more than anything.

“Yeah… I am.” You respond, fondly memorizing every speckle in her kind, dark orbs staring back into yours. It sends a shiver down your spine.

How could you ever think of letting her go?

***

it only took eight fucking chapters but I did say slow burn…😭

***

taglist is closed

@alexkolax @ladey @jjsmaybank20 @werewoofrobinbuckley @chealsib @fanboy7794 @la-douleur-ne-finit-jamais @zelload @natashadeservedmore @orang3-ish @friedryes @nahnahnahwhat @be-missed @jjuncidio @oksana-moods @theirishmanronan @r-ude @wokethefuxkup @skate-to-breathee @user173781 @frasersgf @justafoolinlove @bring-mecoffee @haughtsauce21 @wheesunsangel @omega-horus @selluequestrian @justalittledissociation @imaloserbby @catswag22 @smjmgko @acutenobody @raven-ss @canceldevvi @sweetaimu @rockwyn @rwndsana @cheesybacon123 @cvluswnt @secretbackrooms @vixen1006 @zhasmindoesntknow @ulicebld @rozmrazaradelfinow @icarly23 @cartierdreamx @thenextdawn @annalestern @noooodlessstuff @vstblrblog @godsfavouritelesbiann

---

everyone but her pt.30

Summary: You're determined to prove to Wednesday that you're better than Joel. Is it in a way she understands? Probably not, but you're no quitter

Word Count: 4.3k Warnings: swearing, paintball guns, Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (everyone but her Masterlist) A/N: I'm taking a bit of creative liberty with the wolfing out thing just because it suits my needs, so don't come at me for it

“Do we have to keep him around?” You groaned as you sat down in the booth beside Wednesday.

“We kept you around,” she said without bothering to look up from her book.

It wasn’t like she needed to; she knew who you were talking about and what you were insinuating. You had been doing it for weeks. Although Wednesday didn’t quite understand why you had such an issue with Joel; she had chosen you, had she not? And she had no issue with Ash, so why had you been so upset? If you would just open up then she would comprehend your apprehension.

“That’s harsh,” you whispered. “You keep me around because you like me.”

“I would go so far as to say love,” she said while turning the page.

You stiffened beside her. “You would?”

Wednesday exhaled slowly and turned her head to look at you. The winter had been harsh on you, both physically and mentally. You looked worn and ragged and on edge. A few more feathers than usual had fallen out of your wings over the weeks and you couldn’t quit picking at them; a habit she knew you used to have when you got anxious. Everyone had believed you to have grown out of it, but the past few weeks had proven them wrong.

And now you were looking at her with crinkles around your eyes and the smallest smile on your lips.

“You know I do,” she said with a tilt of her head.

“I would like to hear you say it again though,” you said softly.

You were rather impossible, weren’t you?

“I keep you around because I tolerate you,” she said simply, instantly turning back to the book that she 

“Oh you’re a dick,” you grumbled as you let yourself fall back against the back of the booth. “If you don’t tell me you love me, I’m tripping your boy toy.”

“Your threats are empty,” Wednesday said. “And I don’t reward bad behaviour.”

“I don’t need to be rewarded,” you huffed. “I’m not Enid.”

The pout on your lips was rather adorable, Wednesday wouldn’t deny it. Not that she would ever let you know, of course, but it was. It was the small moments like this that gave her hope that you would get better. Of course you still had your bad days, and you were still going through a hard time with all the talks with the police, but you were getting there. There was hope.

“Oh Jesus christ,” you mumbled when Joel sat down opposite you both at the booth.

“Here you both are,” he said quietly as he slid coffee toward you and Wednesday, leaving his own in front of him. “Vastly different tastes.”

“And that matters why?” You asked, taking the coffee anyway.

“Behave,” Wednesday whispered to you before looking at Joel. “Thank you.”

Thankfully, you did exactly as Wednesday had instructed. You stayed nice and silent as she studied with Joel, going over more than what was required. Meanwhile you sat beside her, your hand resting on her knee under the table. Good little bird, she thought when she looked over and saw you drinking your coffee and playing some silly little game on your phone. Were those chickens?

Throughout the study session, you got up and got everyone, including Joel, some more coffee three times. The first two times were perfectly acceptable, you made hers exactly how she preferred it. Even Joel’s had been made to order, including the small amount of sugar and cream necessary. His third cup was less than satisfactory.

“This tastes incredibly sweet,” he said with a small grimace once he set the cup back down.

“Let me see,” you said, immediately reaching over and grabbing his cup.

Without warning, you brought it to your lips and took a deep drink. Wednesday had to fight her own impulse to smile at the look of shock and disgust on Joel’s face. She would admit, not many people could handle your eccentricities, especially those that hadn’t known you for long. You had very few mundane cares in life, and spreading your germs was something you never took into account.

“Tastes fine to me,” you said with a shrug before sliding it back over to Joel.

“That’s unsanitary,” he whispered into the mug that he couldn’t quit staring at.

“Oh get over it,” you grumbled. “We’ve kissed the same lips, surely we can share a mug.”

Sometimes Wednesday forgot just how childish you could be. Not immature, but childish. A lack of care in what you said or did. Not taking into account how someone else might construe your impulses. Take the coffee; she had come to expect it of you, but in someone else’s view, it was unorthodox, a behaviour you would expect from children.

Oh how she adored it.

“So do you two have any plans for this weekend?” He asked. Wednesday noticed the covert way he pushed the mug of coffee back in your direction, which you quickly took and continued drinking. She knew you didn’t hate him completely.

“Yes we do,” you said too quickly. “And you’re not invited.”

“We have no plans,” Wednesday answered just as quickly when you were done. She could feel your eyes boring into the side of her head, but she didn’t care. “Why do you ask?”

“A friend of mine went to a paintball tournament the other weekend,” he started; your head popped up quickly. “He said it was a cool place, so I was wondering if you and your group would want to go check it out.”

“Absolutely no-”

“-we would love to,” you interrupted her, a surprisingly genuine smile on your face. She gave you a questioning look, to which you shrugged in reply. “Sounds like fun.”

“Then we can all meet up on Saturday?” Joel asked.

“It’s a date,” you said as you reached your hand out and forced him to shake yours.

Your smile turned sadistic.

Oh.

—---

“Why are we doing this again?” Enid asked as you all walked down the sidewalk. The paintball field was finally in view in the distance.

“Because it’s cool as fuck,” Ajax said, to which Kent quickly gave him a high-five in reply.

“Because Wednesday’s girlfriend is looking a little green,” Bianca said, promptly ignoring the boys and walking a little closer to Ash. 

Oh yes, Wednesday had noticed the both of them over the past few weeks. At first she had thought it unusual when Ash came over to the apartment a few more times, claiming it was simply to get under your skin. A believable fib, Wednesday would admit. Part of Ash’s relationship with you was death by a thousand irritations, so to speak, and her presence in the dorm certainly had your feathers ruffling.

But then she started appearing while you were gone at work. The initial claim had been about forgetting her things at the dorm, which she had, and Wednesday never doubted her. Until she caught Ash going into Bianca's room, or meeting up with the siren before quickly heading back out into the world. Wednesday was never one to dabble in gossip or other people's relationships, but she was a curious soul.

It only took one night of following them to discover they had gone on a date. And judging by the ease in which they shared a kiss, they had been on multiple. Wednesday wondered if you knew, or if anyone knew, for that matter. Would you have cared? As much as you complained about Ash, you were rather protective of her. Would you give Bianca the - what did Divina call it - the shovel talk?

“I’m not looking green,” you said as you forcefully pulled Wednesday past the group. “I just think we could all do with a nice weekend adventure.”

“She told me she wants to shoot Joel in the dick,” Yoko said.

“Shut up,” you growled as you threw an arm out, hitting Yoko in the stomach. Hard.

“Why can’t you just talk it out like an adult?” Ash asked; Wednesday noticed her hand brush against Bianca’s. “You’re not five.”

“I said,” you emphasised, “it would be a nice outing for us.”

“But you are gonna shoot him in the dick?” Enid asked from her spot between Yoko and Divina.

“Ouch,” both Kent and Ajax said in unison with grimaces on their faces.

“Can you shoot Kent in the dick too?” Divina asked. “He does not need to procreate.”

“I’m not taking requests,” you said quickly, forcing a new argument to arise.

As you all continued getting closer and closer, you continued going on about how you weren’t going to shoot anyone while everyone had suggestions for you. If anything, it did nothing to ease the irritation that Wednesday could physically feel radiating off of you. It was a good thing she had helped you tighten the harness earlier otherwise it might not have held your feathers after all the ruffling she knew this would have caused.

And yet, even with the incessant arguing from everyone, she couldn’t help but admire the atmosphere it created. Yes, you were all unbelievably annoying and clamorous. And yes, you all gave her a headache that no elixir could ease. But at the end of the day, you would all go back home and laugh about the events of the past few hours the way Wednesday assumed a typical family would.

Although she would rather rip out her own vocal cords than admit that she saw you all as her family away from home.

“Oh look, there’s lover boy,” Yoko said when the group got close enough to see Joel waiting outside.

“I’m shooting him in the dick,” you mumbled to yourself even though Wednesday could very clearly hear it.

“You made it,” Joel said with a smile when everyone got closer. “Everything is all ready.”

“Let’s just go,” you said. You quickly let go of Wednesday’s hand and stalked inside, your hands now shoved deeply into the pocket of your jacket.

“This is going to be so much fun,” Yoko said as she followed, leaving Divina and Enid to attempt to stifle their laughter.

The building itself was rather small and open. There were a few places to sit and eat at - maybe you did have a point in bringing food - and an area off to the side to continue watching the field. It was quite sterile, and even though the colourful graffiti on the wall was headache inducing, Wednesday couldn’t deny the skill that went behind the art.

“Hey guys,” an older man said as he came out of a door behind him. “The name’s Carter. Hope the drive wasn’t too bad.”

“We walked,” you said without looking at him.

Maybe this wasn’t going to be the best outlet for you, Wednesday thought to herself.

“Then you’re all warmed up and ready to go,” the man said with an overly exaggerated clap. You and Ash both flinched but otherwise didn’t move. Curious. “Before we get started, does anyone have any experience with paintball?”

Both you and Ash raised your hands instantly and let out barely noticeable sighs. Well, that would most likely explain your reactions, wouldn’t it? Though, as Carter had you and Ash go to the table to unload snacks and jackets while he continued explaining, Wednesday started to question her own ability to notice the smallest things. For instance, had you always flinched at loud claps or noises? Now she was determined to watch you more carefully to figure it out.

“Alright, now on to teams,” Carter said with another clap, that had you and Ash sharing a look. “You all good if I team everyone up?”

Everyone except for you gave their agreement to the situation. Carter seemed rather excited at the prospect and quickly got to work separating everyone. If he had seen the look you gave him when he put you and Wednesday on separate teams, he pretended otherwise. Although everyone tried not to laugh at the near visible steam coming from your ears when he then put Joel on Wednesday’s team.

By the end of the sorting, the two teams were decided and appeared equally matched. You were to lead the team with Bianca, Enid, Ajax and Kent. On the other side, Ash was to lead the team with Wednesday, Yoko, Joel, and Divina. It was quite humorous to have the couples of the group split up - aside from Kent and Ajax who weren’t a couple but who might as well have been with how often they stuck together.

Carter led the way to the equipment room where you all got what you needed. Wednesday thought the whole thing was rather childish, but she couldn’t deny the look of pure concentration on your face was attractive. If only you could focus on something other than violence at some point. Even she managed to focus on other things when necessary, so why couldn’t you?

But you stood your ground, your face now neutral as you pulled off your jacket and started unbuckling your harness. Thankfully you had gone out into the main lobby to wait as you did so; Wednesday didn’t think you would fit in the small equipment room with everyone else. She was already slightly agitated from the events that she knew were bound to transpire, she didn’t need a mouth full of feathers to add to it.

“I forgot to ask, are any of you Outcasts by any-” Carter stopped talking right when your wings folded back tightly against your back, “-chance?”

“All but two of us,” Enid said with a slight straightening of her shoulders.

“Is that a problem?” Bianca asked.

“No problem at all,” he said as he cleared his throat and resumed his peppy personality. “Just please take care not to wolf out or stone anyone. We don’t have waivers for that.”

“Seems reasonable to me,” Ajax said with a shrug, which Kent readily agreed with.

“We do, however, have a field specifically for Outcasts,” Carter said, this time losing his sales persona and looking genuinely pleased. “Sun resistant for vampires, no reflective surfaces, and everything in there is durable enough to withstand an accidental wolf out.”

"Yoko, you can take your glasses off," you said, now standing next to your team who you had quickly ushered away. "Now you can properly see me wreck your shit."

"You gonna talk smack the whole time?" Ash asked.

"Not to you," you said. "I don't talk to losers."

"Oh god," Carter mumbled to himself, and Wednesday very nearly smirked at the newfound fear in his voice. "Alright everyone, outside you go."

“Don’t take any of this personal?” You said when you practically jogged to Wednesday’s location, slowing to a walk.

“You seem to be under the impression that you have a skill in this field,” Wednesday said. “Confidence is good, overconfidence will be your downfall.”

“You’re so intense,” you whispered. “I’ll try not to take it too personally.”

“A much better evaluation of the situation,” she said, her knuckles brushing against yours.

“Will you still love me after this?” You asked when everyone started parting ways to go to their own sides of the field.

Wednesday exhaled softly through her nose. “You simply want me to say it.”

“Yes I do,” you said with a gentle smile.

“My affection will rely on your abilities,” she said before turning around and walking to her side of the field.

“I’ll get you to admit you love me!” You shouted after her.

She simply smiled to herself.

“Okay, Y/N takes paintball really seriously,” Ash said once everyone was gathered around.

“Why am I not surprised?” Yoko said.

“Enid is ridiculously competitive too,” Divina said.

“Bianca will play fair,” Yoko continued.

“What about Ajax and Kent?” Joel asked. It was only then that Wednesday noticed he wasn’t wearing his glasses. It was rather smart of him.

“Incompetent at best,” Wednesday said. “They can be dispatched easily, they pose no threat.”

“Remind me to never be your enemy,” Ash said softly. “Okay, here’s what I’m thinking.”

Everyone listened intently as Ash described the strategy, giving their comments and criticisms as necessary. It was a solid plan, Wednesday would admit it. Joel would focus on Bianca, Ash would take out Enid, Yoko and Divina would get Kent and Ajax, and she would focus on you. The matchups were rather fair, it was a good plan.

It seemed you weren’t the only one who took paintball a bit seriously.

As everyone parted, going somewhere safe, Wednesday took a different approach. If you were as serious about this whole thing as Ash made it out to seem then you would be going after who you believed could pose a problem. And if you were smart, that would have herself and Ash on your hit list. Possibly Yoko depending on what mood you were in for the day.

That being said, Wednesday knew how you ticked. She might not understand your emotions, but she knew how your brain worked. It was something she had picked up on over the past few years, even before she had taken a genuine interest in you. You played the game well, but you were smart. Deceivingly smart.

Sounds of compressed air being released and paintballs hitting obstacles reached Wednesday's ears as she continued her own plan. You weren't foolish enough to fall into a trap, not when you were so focused. Years of being around and knowing Ash had given you insight into her thought process, so you wouldn’t fall for anything she tried to set up.

But Wednesday. Oh, you would fall for Wednesday. All she had to say was jump and you would ask how high. If she told you to kneel, you would do so. She didn’t need to rely on nefarious purposes. Truthfully she wouldn’t even need to try and trick you into anything. If she was right, which she usually was, you would come to her.

With that knowledge in mind, Wednesday walked around until she found the small grouping of trees near the edge of the field. She could still hear everyone, could hear the telltale sounds of whatever unnecessary nonsense was going on a little further away. None of it concerned her; she was focused on you. And if she was going to be forced to play such a ridiculous game, then she was going to play it well.

It didn’t take incredibly long before the sounds started to die out, turning into little more than the occasional hushed voice floating in the air. There was still the rare paintball shot, but everything else started to fade. There was no way you had been taken out by anyone, so Wednesday knew you couldn’t be far away. All she had to do was wait-

“-Caught you.”

Ah yes. With an insane amount of luck and skill, she didn’t flinch when your hands covered her eyes. She had forgotten about your surprising silence when necessary. Mentally she started berating herself for such a thing; she had seen you play that silly Mothman game with your younger siblings. When needed, you were beyond adept at staying silent.

Your hands removed themselves, giving her the ability to turn around and look up at you. Clearly you had been far too into the game because you were covered in what appeared to be mud, with sticks and leaves stuck in your hair. You were suspiciously devoid of paint, but judging by the way you held yourself, you were proud of the fact.

“I figured you would be out here,” you said with the smallest smirk; not gloating, just proud. “You don’t strike me as the type to run in without a plan.”

“You snuck up on me,” Wednesday said, still eyeing you up and down. You were carrying yourself with a certain authority you usually put aside. It looked good on you. “I’ll admit it’s rather impressive.”

“I could’ve shot you from the trees,” you said with a shrug, “but I know better than to shoot my own girlfriend.”

“Yes, that was rather smart on your part,” she agreed.

“How about we call it a truce?” You said with an upward lilt to your words, leaving it more as a question than a statement.

Oh you were clever. You knew exactly what you were doing. Clearly you felt you could beat her if you had truly wanted to, and now you were attempting to give her an out. A way to avoid humiliation and loss. You were giving her the opportunity to save herself - and her clothes - all with nothing but a genuine smile.

Wednesday studied you for only a moment more before cupping your jaw with one hand and pulling you down into a kiss. As expected, you gave in immediately, sighing gently and grabbing her by the waist. You smelled of dirt and trees, but somehow it still smelled precisely like you. Almost as if you were born with the smell.

“I love you,” Wednesday whispered against your lips. Whether on purpose or not, you whined almost inaudibly before kissing her again.

Your hands gripped her tighter, refusing to let her pull away even by a fraction. And at the moment, Wednesday was living for it. No one was around, it was just the two of you, and you tasted of her coffee from the walk over. You tasted familiar and like you belonged to her. It was in the small moments like that that solidified Wednesday’s belief that she would never wish for anyone else but you. She reached her free hand out to your hip, mirroring your grasp on hers.

*splat*

You grunted and stepped back quickly, your hands instantly going to your stomach. While you refused to look down, your eyes trailed down to the paintball gun in Wednesday’s hand. The very same one that had been on your hip only seconds ago. With wide eyes, you finally looked down at your midsection. Pulling your hands away slowly, your jaw fell when you saw the paint now staining your shirt and hands.

“You shot me,” you said incredulously.

“You believed I wouldn’t,” Wednesday said with a slight tilt of her head. “That was your mistake.”

“But you still love me, right?” You asked.

She didn’t answer you, just gave you the smallest smile and turned around to walk off. You were smart, brilliant even, but you had too much trust in those you loved. If she needed to shoot you a hundred times that day to get you to be a little more self preserving, then so be it.

The look of mock-betrayal on your face was rather appealing.

—---

By the time everyone was finally finished with the day, they were all completely covered in paint. Except for Wednesday, of course, who had only two marks on her; one from Bianca, and one from you (even though you had looked devastated at the act). Thankfully no one had been stoned, and Enid had only wolfed out three times. Although two of those times had been because you had goaded her into it.

Then there was you, who had paint splatters covering your wings in such a thick layer that Wednesday knew she would be helping you clean them for at least the next week. Possibly even two if you were stubborn about it, which you usually were. There was going to be paint in the apartment for weeks.

“I don’t know about you guys, but I personally feel a lot better,” you said when you watched with sadistic satisfaction as all three guys walked by with paint all over their pants.

“We all need to get home and eat,” Bianca said from her spot directly beside Ash.

“Or we pick up takeout?” Ajax suggested.

“From that dope Chinese hole in the wall?” Kent continued.

“They do pack a lot of calories,” you said, to which Enid readily agreed with you.

“Then it’s a plan,” Yoko said as she quickly grabbed Enid’s and Divina’s hands to pull them out of the building.

Everyone said their goodbyes to Carter, who looked rather happy to see them all leave, before standing awkwardly in front of the building. It wouldn’t have been so awkward except everyone was busy looking between you and Joel. Even the poor boy had noticed you had a vendetta against him and was standing off to the side, unsure of what exactly to do next.

Wednesday looked up at you when you slipped your hand into hers, giving it a gentle squeeze as you looked over at Joel. She couldn’t read your face, especially not through all the paint and dirt you still had covering your skin. If the ability to shoot at Joel hadn’t helped ease your concern then she didn’t know what would.

“You coming, Joel?” You asked.

“Is it… okay with you guys?” He asked. Everyone looked back at you again.

“Consider it an apology for shooting you in the dick,” you said with a shrug. All three guys covered their paint-stained crotches at the mention of the incident. “Alright, let’s go before Enid gets hangry.”

“I don’t get hangry,” Enid complained as everyone finally started walking away from the paintball fields.

You started up light conversation with Joel as he walked on the other side of you, and even though Wednesday could see you struggling to maintain composure, she was proud of you. Maybe she would need to tell you so when you got back to the apartment. Hopefully you wouldn’t require repayment for the betrayal shot earlier that day.

Maybe she would just kiss you some more before you could ask. Just in case.

---

La Petite Mort - Bonus Content 1

Summary: A new girl at the ice cream shop makes Lorraine jealous

Word Count: 2.6K

Warnings: +18 NSFW, smut, language

A/N: This is shameless, plotless smut. Fuck writer's block, for real. Hopefully this get's me kick-started again. Also, who decided to end LPM? What an idiot...

There's a new girl working at the ice cream shop. You’ve noticed, and Lorraine has too. She’s also noticed the way the new girl bats her eyelashes at you and the way that she hands over your ice cream cone with a grip that forces you to brush your fingers when you take it. It’s gotten so bad that Lorraine outright refuses she ever liked ice cream, the way she adamantly debuffs your invitations to go to the shop anymore.

It’s a sweltering day, the kind that makes heat waves roll off the asphalt and bakes into your clothes. You’d been in the barn for the majority of the day, tending to the animals and trying to keep your mind off the heat. It’s so hot, even the pond doesn’t sound like relief. What you really want is an excuse to get out of work, and to see Lorraine. You know she’s only yards away, in the kitchen with her mother.

Ever since she moved in with you, she’d been spending time with her parents while you worked, taking the opportunity to enjoy their company. Mr. Day is working you harder than ever. Lorraine is convinced he’s training you to take over the ranch when he inevitably retires. It’s the sole thing keeping you moored to Texas, knowing her family was there and that you'd have a future together despite what society expected of you.  

You wipe the sweat from your brow, reminiscing on the first day you’d kissed Lorraine. Today was even hotter than that one, and usually, she’d be outside begging you to take her for ice cream. 

You remember the way the strawberry treat dripped down her wrist and the way her tongue worked between her fingers to clean it off, and you decide the unspoken strike against the ice cream shop had to come to an end. You wanted the frozen sweet to cool off, but you wanted to see Lorraine in that state of bliss just as badly. 

You pack up your tools, abandoning the old tractor for another day. You stroll over to the house, the smell of apple pie wafting out of the open windows making your mouth water. When you open the kitchen door, you can’t help yourself but pause and grin at the scene.

Mrs. Day is fussing over the pie crust, laying it in delicate and intricate patterns over the cinnamon apples. Lorraine is sitting on the counter, clearly bored. Her eyes light up when she sees you, and she slides off her perch to kiss your cheek. 

Mrs. Day glances up at you and smiles, “Done sweatin’ buckets for the day?”

You chuckle, “Ma’am if there was any sweat left in me, it’d evaporate out there.”

She snaps you with her hand towel, making you yelp and jump backward, “How many times I have to tell you to quit callin’ me ma’am?”

Lorraine snorts, “Momma, that’ll be a fight you're fightin' for the rest of your life.”

You shrug wordlessly, your brows rising in agreement with Lorraine. Mrs. Day tsk’s at you and shakes her head.

“Do me a favor, y/n, and get this girl out of my house. All she’s doin is takin up counter space.”

Lorraine scoffs, slapping your belly when you laugh.

“I intend to. We’ve got a date,” you tell her, wrapping your arm around Lorraine’s waist.

Mrs. Day wipes her forehead with the back of her wrist and leans into the counter, “Good, she needs it.”

“Momma!” Lorraine exclaims at your side.

“What? You do. All you’ve done since you’ve got here is gripe at me. Go on and have a good time. Smile a little. You’re in love, honey. Enjoy it.”

You smirk down at Lorraine, kiss the top of your head, “What’s she gripin’ about?”

Lorraine pushes you toward the door shaking her head, “None of your business. This is mother-daughter confidentiality. It’s sacred.”

Mrs. Day calls out to you as you're being pushed back out the door, “Why don't you tell that old man out there I’d like to go on a date sometime soon too!”

You tip your hat as you step down the stairs, “I’ll be sure to let him know!”

“Don’t encourage her,” Lorraine mutters as the door swings shut behind her.

You climb in the truck and head off the ranch, bracing yourself for the protests to come once she figures out where you’re headed to. By the time you reach town, you can tell she knows just by the fiery look in her eye and her clenched jaw. You park the truck outside the ice cream shop and rest your hand on her leg.

“Baby, you love ice cream. I love ice cream. It’s hotter’n a firecracker lit at both ends out here, and we’re gonna enjoy this sweet treat, and then I’ll take you home.” 

She sighs and gazes longingly at the shop. You know damn well she wants the ice cream. She knows it too.

She relents and nods, opening the door and jumping out onto the sidewalk. You grin in triumph and follow her inside. 

The new girl is there, chatting up a cowboy in dirty coveralls, and you think maybe you’ll be safe this visit.

No such luck. The second the bell chimes over the door, she has her eyes on you, and Lorraine’s spine stiffens. She slows her pace, wrapping her arm around your waist in a clear show of possession. You roll your eyes, knowing full well you don't have any interest in anyone else, but if it’s what she needs, then she shall have it.

The girl behind the counter bats her eyelashes at you, ignoring Lorraine completely. You rest your chin on the top of her head, trying to give the girl the hint that you’re only interested in the one currently wrapped around you like a koala, but she doesn’t pay it any mind.

“Two strawberry cones, please, ma’am,” you tell her, your jaw pressing into Lorraine’s hair as you speak.

“Oh, honey, I’m not no ma’am,” she replies, turning to grab the cones.

“That's pretty apparent,” Lorraine mutters under her breath.

You snort, pinching her side. She pulls back to glare up at you and then into the back of the ice cream girl’s head.

When she hands you the cones, you hand one down to Lorraine and pay. You turn to head out the door, only to be dragged back by Lorraine.

“What’s up?” You ask her, confused.

“Let’s eat them here, I don't wanna eat in the truck,” she says, almost whining.

You frown; she’s never had a problem eating in the truck before. But she's pulling you over to the little table in the window, and you go along with it. You mourn the loss of watching her ice cream melt between her fingers, but you’re happy she’s actually there with you either way. She giggles at your jokes and runs her foot up your leg under the table, and you don’t think anything of it.

Until a drop of ice cream falls into your lap. Then it becomes apparent what her ploy is. 

You reach across the table for a napkin, but by the time you’ve sat back, Lorraine is between your legs, dabbing at the light pink stain on your jeans. It’s beyond inappropriate, edging into exhibitionism the way her hand is stroking your thigh. You blush, leaning back in your chair.

You’re not stupid, you know what this is. You want to push her back, tell her to wait until you’re home. But you know that’ll put you in hotter water than you were in before, so you let her do it. You glance toward the counter, and your face is redder than a tomato. A teenage boy is goggling the scene, along with ice cream girl. They both have their jaws unhinged, watching Lorraine sit between your knees, cleaning your pants. It’s too much, far too much for a small Texas ice cream shop.

You gulp as she stands, extending her hand down for you to take.

“Take me home now, baby.”

As if you could do anything other than leap out of the chair. You consider apologizing on your way out, but you’re being pulled through the door with such aggression you don’t even get the chance.

Your face is still burning when you get into the truck. Lorraine sits in the middle seat, abandoning her window with clear intent. You’ll be lucky to make it home at the rate she’s going.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know,” you say through gritted teeth.

She shrugs, her tone innocent, “I know.”

The sun is making its way below the horizon as you start the long drive back to your apartment. Sometimes you question why you chose to live in the next town over, but when Lorraine is under your arm in the truck, it makes the decision seem more sound.

When she slides her hand up your thigh as you’re driving, it seems less sound. 

When she crawls into your lap, it seems even less sound.

“Baby girl, you can't be in my lap, I’m driving.”

“We’re not gonna be home for so long, I just wanted to be close to you. Is that a crime?” She whines in your ear, and you decide safety is not the number one priority in your life right now.

You press your foot into the gas, accelerating the truck to a speed you should absolutely not be going while Lorraine is straddling your legs. You hope, beyond hope, that she stays still until you get home.

No such luck. Her nose presses under your jaw, and her lips leave scorching kisses on your neck. Her hips push forward into your belly, and even the iron grip you have on the steering wheel isn’t enough. The sun has made it’s descent, plunging you into the kind of darkness you can only find in the country between towns. 

“You have to stop, Raine,” you gasp, “or neither of us is gonna make it home.”

You can feel her smile into the skin of your neck, and it tells you everything you need to know. She isn’t going to stop, has no intention of granting you any kind of mercy. So you do the next best thing and pull over onto the dirt shoulder with a racing heart and itching hands.

The moment the truck is in park, you shift back, your fingers pressing firmly into your waist. She’ll probably have dotted bruises above her hip bones, but if she has no patience for mercy, then neither do you.

She leans back, her arms anchored around your neck, her lower back pressing into the steering wheel, “You think that girl knows better now?”

You tilt your head, your lips pursed, “You know you don’t have to do that. I’m not paying her any mind, Rainey.”

She leans forward, her lips only inches from yours, “I don't care. I want her to know.”

For a moment, you stare at her, wondering just when this church mouse of a girl turned feral. Probably somewhere in between the last time she kissed RJ, and the first time her lips met yours after. Once she realized what she’d been missing out on, she knew she’d never look back. And she knew that no one could have what she found in you, ever again. You were hers, and she was yours. That was that.

She accentuated her point with her lips on yours and her fingers in your hair. There was no way in hell she was comfortable, but this wasn’t about comfort. She was proving a point. One that you believed didn’t need to be made, but you weren’t going to protest too much. Especially when she’s unzipping your pants with one hand and running the other up your shirt.

Your shock renders you still, letting her slip her fingers into your underwear. The hand she has under your shirt retreats, she grabs your wrist and guides it to her own pants, finally spurring you into action.

“You know,” you mumble into her lips, “we have a perfectly good bed at home.”

She grins, her teeth brushing your bottom lip, “Mhm, we can use it in about thirty minutes.”

You mentally do the math; you’re only ten minutes from home, where you’re currently parked. The next twenty minutes are up in the air.

Her tongue is in your mouth when her fingers find your center, making you gasp through your nose. You mimic her, your hand like a puppet she controls between her panties and her skin. She groans into your mouth, realizing what you’re doing, and picks up her pace. You can feel how wet she is, and you know that you must be, too, judging by the enthusiasm of her lips on yours.

Her free hand wraps around the side of your neck, her fingers playing with the baby hairs there, giving you goosebumps. Yours snakes up her shirt, slipping under her bra to palm at her breast. Her hips jerk forward, pushing your fingers lower. You shift your wrist, dipping lower until you’re inside of her. She bites at your neck and follows suit, making you gulp for more air with your head pressed back into the seat.

You can’t help yourself but admire her when she leans back, looking down on you with dark eyes. The freckles she used to be so embarrassed about, scattered across the bridge of her nose and her cheeks, are so absolutely perfect in their haphazard pattern. Her dark, honey-brown eyes, so comforting and sweet you could lose yourself in them. Her nails, now scratching at your ribs under your shirt, keeping you grounded. The weight of her body, pressing into yours, her hips rolling in time with your hand, light an eternal flame inside of your belly that you know will rage for years to come.

Speaking of coming, your mind returns to your own body as you realize you're close to it. She’s learned a lot in your time together and has become a savant of sorts in the ways your body works. Almost as much as you are with hers.

Your breathy sigh catches in your throat, taking her by surprise, making her jump. Her back hits the horn on the steering wheel, and you both freeze. Irrationally alert from the unexpected noise. When you realize it’s your own horn that sounded, she rests her forehead on yours, and you both laugh, breathing heavily. 

She looks down at you now, her eyes infinitely softer than before. Her lips curl up at the sides, and her brows gently come together.

“What?” You whisper, still breathing heavily.

She shakes her head and kisses you deeply, moving her fingers again. Her actions say everything she doesn’t.

She’s slower now, more gentle. It doesn’t take much at this point to finish you off, grasping at her back, our head on her collarbone. At the sight of you, she only takes a few more seconds before she's gasping into your hair, her hand around the back of your neck pulling you closer.

You stay like that a while, breathing heavily, fogging the windows of the truck. 

A pair of headlights rounding the corner has you both scrambling. Lorraine slides off your lap into the middle seat, giggling as they pass you by, honking at you. She rests her head on your shoulder, her hand on your leg, smiling ear to ear.

You open your mouth to speak, but she interrupts you, “I know, I know. You’re not interested in ice cream wench. Now take me home and prove it to me again.”

---

legally binded - 6

Jenna Ortega x F!Reader

masterlist | series mast. | prev. part | next part

Chapter 6: Met Gala and Miscommunication

Summary: After getting caught in some hot waters with the press, you are forced into an unexpected agreement with America's sweetheart, Jenna Ortega to save your career.

Warnings/Tags: dual!pov, famous!reader, actress!reader, mentions of substances, intoxication, mature language, real people. (do not read if any of these make you uncomfortable)

(this is all fiction!)

Note: SHADOWBAN IS A BITCH

Word Count: 7.2k+ (i dont know how this happened)

“Y/N! Over here, please! To your right!” 

“One over the shoulder, please!”

“Can we get one straight head!”

Shouting and flashes are all you can hear once you step out of the van, one hand bunching up the large gown, the other in Link’s as he helps you down. You and Jenna had to take separate cars because your outfit was too large, a decision that you are mentally thanking the Gods.

There’s no way you can be around her right now. 

Which is going to be a problem because you two have to make your first official red carpet appearance. Other than the usual eyes on you already; you are on the panel of hosts which means the attention on you two will be upped more so than usual. Not to mention, she’s also your date for the evening.

A fact that the media was anticipating. By the increasing decibel of the screaming around you as Jenna approaches, you knew then just how many people were truly watching your every move.

“Hi…” She says once she’s in earshot. The train of her custom coat was dragging on the ground as she walked. 

“Hey.” You mumble, not looking at her. 

“Can we not do this he–” She sighed at your tone.

“Let’s walk the carpet. I’m needed inside.” You cut off, extending your hand for her to take.

Clenching her jaw, she glanced at your open palm with a flat look before relenting; sliding her smooth hand into yours, grasping it tightly. 

Almost too tightly, like she was trying to crush your ring-clad fingers.

But it'd be a lie to say that you didn’t miss the familiar grooves of her skin— even if she was crushing your hand at the moment.

“Ow, stop.” You grit.

Jenna merely kisses her teeth, but eases on her grip.

“Let’s get this over with.” You mumbled, tugging her along.

The sounds of both your heels clicking against the pavement and the incessant shouting from the crowd and media were all you can hear as you dragged the actress to walk past the other celebrities waiting in line to walk to the carpet. 

You know Jenna wants to say something but one glance at your scowl and she knew better. Maybe imperceptible to most, but over these last few months, she’s learned to pick up on a few cues.

Like now, the slight downturn of your bottom lip, the crease between your brow and the clenched jaw were all signs that you were not in the mood.

“Y/N, wait.”

But you don’t. You merely keep walking until you’re both standing in the very front. “Don’t we need to wait our turn?”

You cast her a side glance. “No.” Then turn, spotting a familiar face. 

The very same face of the person who organizes this whole gala.

“Y/N, darling. Don’t you and your woman look ravishing.” Anna Wintour walks to you both.

“Thank you, Anna. You look lovely tonight as well.” You plaster a large, pearly white smile; kissing the older woman on both cheeks.

Jenna feels the heat of the flashes on you three, instantly.

When Anna Wintour turns to her, she mimics your greetings, expressing her own gratitude for the invite.

“I’ll let you two walk the carpet. The press has been waiting eagerly for you two.” She winked before walking off. 

You couldn’t even fight the blush forming on your cheeks if you tried. At least, you can blame it on the makeup you had on if anyone called it out.

“Let’s go?” You turn to the other actress.

Jenna nodded and you allowed her to lead you to the bottom of the large steps of the iconic museum. 

Immediately, a flurry of photographs are taken and shouting of your and Jenna’s name is belted as you actively fight to not tear up.

The two of you pose expertly by yourselves before coming back together to show off your couple-themed outfit, obeying the directions from the photographers as they shout which position to pose in. 

“You okay?” You glance down at Jenna as you were standing behind her, one arm wrapped around her waist when you realize she felt tensed under your touch.

You knew she dealt with anxiety at times, especially during very public events such as this, so you squeeze her waist reassuringly; letting her know that you're right here.

When she blinks up at you slowly, you curse yourself for feeling mesmerized. Her highlighted-freckled cheeks reflected the camera flashes back at you and the white carpet juxtaposed her dark, steampunk-esque outfit and suddenly, you are sure that you're staring at the most gorgeous woman you’ve ever laid eyes on.

“Yeah…” She reassured, softly placing her hand atop yours that was wrapped around her waist. 

“That’s perfect guys!”

“Can we get a kiss from the couple!” Someone yells when they see Jenna meet your eyes, influencing the others to start their own slew of requests for PDA.

You freeze, not expecting them to be so immodest with their demands. But you don’t have time to make the decision for yourself because Jenna was making it for you.

She turns in your hold, slotting herself firmly against your side and placed her ring-clad fingers coolly on your neck, pulling you in for a delicate and modest kiss.

In quick, lens-fluttered successions the moment is captured in time. 

You couldn’t even hear the screaming of the paparazzi get louder as the two of you are practically blinded by the camera shutters. Distantly you can hear the crowd of fans camping across the street screaming as well.

But it all sounded fuzzy when her lips pressed against yours.

When she pulled away, you were still staring at her lips, breathing a bit laboured. The pounding in your chest intensified when her eyes flickered to yours; trying to read your reaction.

You don’t have time to think about it because you’re hurriedly being ushered up to the top of the steps where an interviewer was waiting overeagerly.

“Wow, you two are surely going to be the talk of the night. Tell me everything, who are you two wearing?” The enthusiastic and slightly familiar-looking lady spoke into the mic before holding it up to you and Jenna. 

“I am wearing a reconstructed tuxedo jacket dress by Thom Browne and Y/N is actually wearing a custom, one-of-a-kind collaboration, a Prada and Thom Browne ball gown,” Jenna answers for both of you, wrapping an unsuspecting arm around your waist. 

The interviewer’s eyes sparkled with delight at the information, “Just amazing. The two of you look like a million bucks.  Tell me, what was the inspiration behind these two looks? ‘Cause to me, it’s giving goth wedding at the Met Gala.” 

She turns to the camera, nodding approvingly. 

You couldn’t help the laugh that releases from your lips, nodding, “I guess it is giving that… but really, I have to give credit to Jenna. She’s the one who thought of the bride and groom concept. I just showed up.”

“Am I sensing you’re the brains in this relationship?” The interviewer teases, leaning into Jenna, who nodded politely.

“Yeah — I guess you can say that.” She gives into the joke. 

“Wow… I’m right here.” You play into it as well.

“Now, I gotta ask 'cause they’ll get mad if I don’t. But any comments on the Vegas incident and rumours of your arrest regarding the drug allegations?” She whispered the last part.

At least, she made it sound like she was apologetic. 

Clenching your jaw, you tried to plaster a tight-lipped smile about to give an answer. But before you could open your mouth, Jenna squeezed your waist, cutting in. She glanced at you worriedly for a moment, before speaking seriously into the mic; keeping her hold on your midsection; firm.

“The accusations against Y/N are not true and quite frankly, the backlash she’s been getting online, I feel, is unwarranted and unfair. That’s all we’re saying about the matter, thank you.” Then she pulled you inside and away from the vicious teeth of the piranhas, not bothering to listen to the interviewer’s sputtering protests.

Jenna tugged you down a desolate hallway, ignoring everyone else in the way. Frantically whipping her head to try to find a secluded corner. When she does, she pressed you against a column; hidden from the view of prying eyes.

Only then, did you feel like you could breathe, not even realizing how tense your shoulders had been.

“Are you okay?” She scanned you worriedly; grasping your hand in a tender manner; swiping her thumb across the skin. 

“Yeah… yeah — fine.” you glance down at your hands, squeezing them unconsciously.

"Are you sure?" She asked, still studying your startled features.

Your ability to swiftly hide your real emotions should be studied really, cause Jenna blinked and suddenly you were deadpan as if nothing happened.

"Yes. I'm fine. It's what I signed up for." You muttered the last part.

The sigh Jenna lets out is heavy and annoyed. For a moment, you think you see her eye twitch.

“Can you not say that phrase, right now." She chided.

Scoffing, you answer back, "You wanna talk about not doing something? What about what you said during the interview? You know it’s just gonna make things worse."

Her jaw dropped before laughing hollowly. “Are you serious? What, you wanted me to stay silent?”

“No! Just—“ You sighed, clenching your jaw, “you should’ve let me handle it.”

Jenna rolled her eyes, pulling her hand away. “We’ll talk about it later… if you don’t run away.” Muttering the last part, she sauntered off; heading to your table where Enrique and Link were sitting — your posse for the night.

Those two are in for a treat, you thought.

You couldn’t even chase her down even if you wanted to because a Gala worker was already ushering you backstage to go over last-minute notes before the show started.

—

Jenna leaned back against the stiff, rigid chairs, fiddling with the fancy rolled napkin on her china dish, trying to suppress her sigh.

“You okay?” Link nudged her elbow after noticing the actress' slumped shoulders.

Jenna and Link have formed an… alliance of sorts. Since the two of you have been spending more time together, she’s formed an unsuspecting bond with your closest friend and confidant.

He was someone that she felt she could trust because you trusted him wholeheartedly. 

“Mhmm.” She hummed absentmindedly, continuing to pick on the napkin just watching how her glossy french-manicured black nails reflected the light back from the wisping flame on the table.

“What’s up? Is it Y/N?” He glanced over his shoulder, trying to spot you.

“It's nothing…” She dismissed.

"Oh, you guys are really fighting? I thought this was just one of your petty arguments, again." He saw through her instantly.

She didn't even answer, just elected to roll her eyes as a response.

"What about Coachella? You guys were fine then, you even kissed, remember?" He raised a brow in question.

Jenna’s forehead creased, frowning. “Of course, I do. But then I learned that she may get arrested? Y/N never brought it up, once. I never even knew if it was true. So sorry, if I’m a little mad about being left out of something important — something that affects me too.”

The assistant ran a rough hand down his jaw, exhausted. “Look, no one’s saying you can’t have feelings on the matter — they’re valid. But come on, Y/N can’t catch a break.”

“Who’s fault is that?” She whispered back harshly, clenching the napkin in her hand too tight.

Link’s eyes raised in shock. “Huh… I guess you really did make up your mind. Feel what you feel, but all I’m saying is hear her out.”

Then he stands, walking away from the table.

Maybe off to find you? Who knows, all Jenna feels is a slight pressure forming in between her brows and the night’s barely started.

She had a feeling she was in for a long one.

Jenna didn't have time to sulk about it because the Gala was starting. A man in a tuxedo walked to centre stage with a mic in hand. “Thank you, everyone, for coming tonight and supporting the Met's Costume Institute. Now, can we give a warm welcome to this year’s panel who made this Met Gala possible… introducing…”

Jenna sighed lifting her head up, watching as you appeared from the backstage, walking elegantly with the other co-hosts and Anna Wintour.

“Penelope Cruz, Michaela Coel, Roger Federer, Dua Lipa, Y/N L/N and Vogue’s Anna Wintour.” The presenter named.

You send the room a show-stopping smile, squinting when the spotlights hit your retinas at an unpleasant angle. When your eyes settled onto the crowd they instantly meet Jenna’s but you’re averting them just as quickly.

She pretended not to notice.

The room cheers for all of you up on stage but she doesn’t hear the introductory speech each of you give.

Not even yours because all she could do was stare at you.

You looked regal.

And that frustrated Jenna because she's supposed to be mad at you.

But she had to admit, a small part of her liked riling you up and making you mad.

The furrow in your brow and frown on your lips when you are, is a face that Jenna’s secretly grown fond of. 

But since the two of you have gotten closer, you’ve shown her that you indeed do have a heart, albeit a little cold and prickly at times. 

Despite that, Jenna found herself still wanting to hold your delicate heart even if it hurts.

But there’s only so much she can do when the Universe decides to throw another curve ball toward you.

So, no. 

You’re not off the hook just yet.

She watched as the crowd dispersed when the speech finished and stars and celebrities from all entertainment forms kick off the night of socializing. Jenna noticed you instantly get pulled to a far corner of the room by some executives.

Jenna didn’t feel like doing the shop talk so she elected to stay in her seat; no matter how anti-social she seemed.

“Jen, we need to socialize... I know you don’t want to, but you know.” Enrique nudged.

“Okay, okay…” 

And like the actress she is, she plastered on her best smile and floated around the room, making sure everyone saw her face.

At one point she found herself actually enjoying a conversation. 

“Your date is busy tonight.” A voice commented, sliding into the seat beside her. 

“Olivia.” Jenna sighed in relief at seeing a familiar face, swiftly leaning over to give her friend a hug.

“It’s so nice to see you again, Jenna.” The singer embraced back.

“Are you at this table?” She asked once she’d pulled away.

“Yeah, I think this is the Thom Browne table actually.” Olivia turned around to examine the fancy stock card with calligraphy writing.

“Great…” Jenna nodded, already feeling her spirits lift a bit at seeing a familiar face.

She placed the card back onto the table, “Enjoying your night?”

“Yeah… it’s only my second time here but it’s always nice to be invited.” Jenna replied honestly, feeling the tension loosen within her at being reunited with an old friend.

“What about her?” Olivia nudged, nodding to you standing across the room, exchanging pleasantries with a few musician friends.

“She’s been very busy tonight.” Jenna comments, watching as you work the room. Everyone had their bodies turned to you as you gestured animatedly. Even from afar, she can see your confident posture and slightly raised chin. Briefly, she wonders how you make it look so easy. “But I think she’s enjoying herself too.”

“Good…” Olivia smiled.

“Hi! what’re we talking about?” Florence Pugh slides in.

“Florence, hi! Nice to see you again.” She leaned to kiss the other woman’s cheeks — they exchange the usual pleasantries and compliments.

“Our Met Gala experience…” Olivia answered.

“Oh! How is it, you reckon?” She sipped on her vodka martini with the etiquette of a royal. “This is my first one.”

“I’m having a good time..” Jenna answered.

“Sensing a but?” The bald woman waved her manicured hand.

“Oh no…” Jenna flushed at being called out, glancing as you talked to the likes of: Dua Lipa, Usher, Jack Harlowe. “No buts…”

“Alright...” Florence relents, sipping on her martini. She glances in Jenna’s line of sight spotting you. 

“Oh! Hailee!” Florence kisses her teeth, “that girl told me she wasn’t going to come. Excuse me girls.”

Florence muttered apologies, drifting over to your group. Jenna watched as the Brit strolled over, her line of sight drifting back over to you, embracing this Hailee with a bright genuine smile and a grip on the other woman’s waist far too low for someone who’s supposed to be in a very public relationship.

With furrowed brows, she watched on in confusion as you started catching up, still in each other’s arms as if two lovers reunited after a long war.

Jenna’s throat started feeling funny.

Forcing herself to look away, she grabbed the glass of water to drink to ease the unpleasant feeling.

“Is that Hailee Steinfeld?” Olivia asked from beside her, tilting her head to the side as she watched on as well.

“I think so…”

“Isn’t she Y/N’s ex?” The other titled their head to the side in question and Jenna found herself spinning back around in her seat to find you across the room.

You were now talking in a circle, but Hailee was standing close by your side.

Olivia glanced at Jenna’s sudden reaction. “Uh sorry—I didn’t mean that with bad intentions..”

“It’s alright…” Jenna mumbled, still watching your every move.

“Sorry, girlie,” Olivia mumbled, then shrugged. “For what it’s worth, I think they ended on good terms.”

Oh did you? Jenna thought. She’d never heard of an ex.

“That’s nice…” Jenna tried to mutter indifferently. Keyword: Tried.

“Are you jealous?” The singer asked, laughing a little.

“No!” Jenna flushed from the question.

“I wouldn’t worry about it… I saw you two on the carpet. I wish someone looked at me like that.” Olivia winked and then grabbed her drink, walking away.

All Jenna could do was stare holes into you hoping you felt it.

But you didn’t.

— 

“Excuse me.” 

Excusing yourself from the group, you step back, glancing around the large room. Dimmed chandelier lighting hung from the ceilings and an assortment of fabrics and flowery littered the Gala’s tall walls.

You were in charge of this year's decor, working with world-renowned interior designers for the annual gala and not to brag but you quite outdid yourself.

The space looked amazing.

During your once-over of the room, you spot Jenna sitting by herself at your table. Immediately, a pang of guilt rumbles in your chest. She looked kind of lonely just sitting there, people-watching.

Sighing, you contemplated your choices.

On one hand, you could be the more mature one and make the first move, save face for the night or you can stay true to character and ignore your obvious tensions with the other actress.

But if one more person looked at you pitifully, the word cocaine on the tip of their tongue but never actually saying it out loud then you might just pull out your own damn hair.

At least some music industry friends patted you on the back and said ‘happens at least once’ — that did not make you feel better but the sentiment counts?

You walk in slow steps toward Jenna, silently sliding into the empty seat next to her. Her head snapped to yours immediately.

“Hi…” You greet with a tight-lipped smile. “Enjoying your night?”

“Mhmm.” Jenna hummed, looking away.

You sighed, glancing around to make sure no one was listening. 

“Can we just… table this, for later? I don’t want to fight.” You frowned, calling a truce.

Jenna glanced at you, only offering a reluctant, “Okay..”

Knowing that was probably the best you’re gonna get from her, you settled against the chair and let silence take over as you join in on the people-watching.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Jenna asked, not being able to stand the silence. She can take the fighting, the banter, the bickering, but this type of silence with you? It sends an unsettling feeling within Jenna that she didn’t enjoy.

“Mhmm. I think so. Everyone seems to be having a good time, so I think I can finally relax.” You commented as you scanned the room.

“Give yourself some credit, everything looks amazing. I can tell you picked the centrepieces.” She snorted, picking up the ornamental piece.

You laughed, letting your walls down. “What? Too much?”

“Too bright and flashy…” She scrunched her nose, the sparkling item clinked loudly as she held it with her ring-covered fingers.

“You’d just prefer if everything came in the colour black.” You took the item from her hand, scanning it yourself. “I don't know I think it adds to the ambiance.”

“Black goes with everything.” She defended.

You send her a knowing look. "I rest my case."

Your short-lived banter with the other actress was cut short when a Gala employee promptly explained that the Thom Browne table was needed for photos and videos for the Met’s ad campaign. 

The two of you take solos, couples and group photos with the Thom Browne table; showing off your outfit for tonight.

“We look good…” Jenna noted – looking at the monitor as your pictures were pulled up.

Leaning forward, unconsciously leaning over Jenna’s shoulder, you looked. “Yeah, we do.”

Jenna looked up at you, wanting nothing more than to press back into you — but nope, not this time. Instead, she forced herself to avert her gaze and walk out of the room, not bothering to wait for you.

Trying not to make a scene, you praise the entire photography team, thanking them for their time and slid out of the room, speed-walking to Jenna.

“Are you going to act like this the whole night?” You fall into step beside her, walking down the empty hallway leading back to the main room.

Jenna stayed silent. Only the clicking of heels on the marble tiles bouncing off the tall walls can be heard.

“Jenna…” You sighed, trying again, “What happened to tabling it?.”

“I-I can't right now, Y/N." She frowned deeper and your heart clenched; steps faltering at her words. You stayed rooted as she walked further down the hall, leaving you behind.

“Trouble in paradise?” You spun on your heels, immediately spotting Hailee – who also happened to be your ex-girlfriend.

“The hell? Where’d you come from?” You clutched your chest in fright, staring at the brunette woman.

She just laughed and stood beside you. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I was on my way outside and I just saw that look and… well. I felt like I couldn’t ignore it.”

When you looked at her, all you saw was softness in her eyes; sympathy. But this time it didn’t feel bad coming from her. Because at one point in your life, Hailee knew you better than you knew yourself.

“Everything is fine.” You lie, averting your eyes. There are very few people that could read you well. It seems like Hailee is still one of those people.

“Mhmm…” She didn’t push.

“I used to hate it when you did that.” You chuckled prompting Hailee to laugh and nod in agreement. 

You and Hailee dated when you were both very active in the Marvel Universe. 

Real loose on the word: dated. Because well you didn’t technically. 

She was filming Hawkeye and you were filming Spider-Man: No Way Home and you both just happened to be filming in both New York and Atlanta at roughly the same time.

Somehow, you and Hailee found yourselves growing closer while filming your respective projects. The two of you grabbed lunch together every day, which turned into dinners at the other’s place, then sleepovers when it got too late to go home and then eventually, a relationship.

There was never an explicit conversation about being together, but you two acted like it anyway. You two even wrote a few songs together.

But, like all things in your life, you self-sabotage. You couldn’t allow yourself to really be in with Hailee like she wanted; like she needed.

So she ended things with you right after you both wrapped your projects. There was no bad blood and you knew that the girl breaking your heart was making the right decision because you can’t give her what she wants. 

You two are better off friends anyway.

“Yeah, you did…” She laughed. “Still gonna say it though.”

You rolled your eyes, sighing heavily. It’s just Hailee, you don’t need to put up a facade. Not like it’d matter if you did anyway, she can read you so easily. “Wouldn’t expect anything different from you…”

Hailee glanced around the empty hallway again for a moment, thinking. “Hey… wanna go out for a smoke?”

It certainly beats having to sit in silence beside Jenna.

“Sure, why not?”

– 

“So… You and Jenna Ortega?” Hailee passes the lit cigarette after taking a puff, a cloud of smoke escaping her lips after exhaling.

You grab the bud when she passes it, “Yeah…” Inhaling, deep and long, you started to feel the familiar plight of light-headedness as you visibly untensed your shoulders.

“How’d that happen?” She asked, looking over the balcony and onto the traffic below.

“Our team’s introduced us…” You answered honestly.

This was the first time since Vegas that you’ve been around colleagues and friends in the business. You haven’t exactly had time to come up with a better excuse as to how you met Jenna. “And then yeah… we just started talking.”

“You sound like such a guy…” She snorted, taking the cigarette from your fingers. 

“And you sound like Link.”

“I saw him earlier, he seems good. I’m glad you kept him around, someone’s got to look after you.” She rolled her eyes but there was a hint of honesty and sadness in them that you could read.

“Yeah. He’s definitely kept me standing on my feet these last few months.” 

“And Jenna? Has she kept you standing these last few months too?” She asked inquisitively, scanning you and for a moment, you were stunned in silence.

Your life has certainly changed a lot since you met the younger actress. 

What you and Jenna have is something you’ve never felt around someone before. You two shouldn’t work; you’re highly volatile together and so opposite in the way you view life but somehow, it still worked.

Like the ying to your yang or whatever shit they say. 

Then she kissed you under that smoggy night at Coachella and you haven’t been able to keep her off your mind since.

Ah, Coachella. It seemed so long ago, despite it only being a mere week.

You two still haven’t talked about it in the midst of these arrest headlines.

It was like the elephant in the room surrounded by much larger elephants.

You remember the taste of her kisses. They were way softer than you ever imagined; not that you imagined it a lot… and the way her skin burned against yours when she tugged you closer?

You can pass away tomorrow and you’d be content with the life you’ve lived whenever you thought of that blissful night spent in each other’s arms.

There’s something about the other actress that made you unconsciously lower your walls. Walls that you’ve spent a long time building to hide the parts that you want to close off to the rest of the world.

 But somehow, someway, Jenna sees through so easily even if she didn’t know it herself.

You’re not quite certain you’re ready for what potential you and Jenna can have if you truly opened yourself up to her.

Her constant presence has been surprising and terrifying all at the same time. It felt comforting to be around her and her family. Not that you would ever say that out loud — god you wonder what her parents think about you now.

“Especially her.” You find yourself answering honestly anyway, blinking to meet Hailee’s eyes.

Her smile is kind and soft, seemingly pleased. “Good. I’m so happy for you. You deserve someone like her. I can tell she’s special… don’t fuck it up.”

You blushed under the weight of her compliments. “Oh. I–I won’t.”

She rolled her eyes, knowing you’d never been one to gush about your feelings. “Come on, let's head back. Jenna might be looking for you.” 

Then she winked, throwing away the finished cigarette.

“You’re annoying.” But the singer/actress just laughed.

When you make it back to the party, Hailee is bidding you goodbye with a kiss on the cheek and a tight squeeze, muttering “don’t be a stranger” in your ear.

The first thing you do when Hailee leaves is briskly walk to the bar. Feeling like a drink is very much needed after all that…

“Tequila soda, please. Make that a double.” You lean against the bar top.

“Where have you been?” Jenna slides in out of nowhere, startling you. “People have been asking me about you.”

“Grabbing some air…” You trail off, scanning her for a moment; noting her tightly wound brows creating a crease on her forehead.

“With Hailee?” She crossed her arms, raising a brow.

“Yeah, we went out for a smoke.” You answered honestly, raising a brow of your own.

“A smoke?” She asked, fingers tightly gripping the fabric of her blazer dress.

“Yeah… you know, a cigarette?” You shrugged, turning to the approaching bartender. “Thanks… “

“I’d have asked you…” You spoke after picking up your drink, taking a moment to scan her head to toe. “But you don’t seem like the smoking type.”

Then you take a sip, ignoring Jenna’s twitching eye and scoff, scanning the room and upon initial glance you already see a few eyes watching you and Jenna closely — making you tense.

Without much thought to your next move, you stepped into her space, wrapping an arm around her corset-fitted waist making her flinch, uncrossing her arms. “What are you—“

You cut off her snippy tone, leaning close to her ear; nose in her dark hair.

“People are watching…” You whisper. 

Immediately, she’s placing a hand on your chest, pushing you lightly but you don’t budge. You decide to up the ante when you still see the nosy eyes; obviously talking about you and Jenna.

You leave a litter of light-feathered kisses up and down the side of her neck. “Stop being so tense…”

“You’re taking advantage of the situation…” She muttered but tilted her head to the side allowing you more access to her skin.

From the outside, it looked like nothing more than two people in love.

“I’m playing my part for the press…” You bite her earlobe, lightly. Jenna bites her lip to refrain from uttering a moan. This is definitely not the time or the place. “You should too since you love to throw that word around.”

“What—what does that mean?” She asked, breathing a bit laboured the longer you continued your ministrations on her neck. By now, she was grasping your outfit with a death grip.

“Nothing…” You run your teeth against her skin, your whispers turning into low breaths, “Just saying… it seems like your favourite word these days.”

“You sound mad about that…” She whispers back challengingly. 

Jenna was trying everything not to moan out loud in this very packed room.

“Mhmm. Do I?” You grip her waist, flushing her against you. The whimpered moan she lets out in your right ear when you do has your legs shaking.

“Just a bit.” She puffed out, brokenly.

“Good.” You growled, biting the spot behind her ear and running your tongue against the skin. It wasn’t enough to bruise the other actress but it’s surely enough to send a message. When you pull back, you brush her fringe back with a delicate and hesitant touch.

Jenna’s eyes were hollowed and dazed, silently tracking your fingers as they moved her hair aside and if you two weren’t in the middle of a fight, you’d tease her over it.

“I think dinner’s about to start… wanna head back?” You asked, watching as she just stared into your eyes with now, a look you couldn’t quite decipher.

“Yeah…” She clears her throat, stepping away from your hold, letting your delicate hand fall limply by your side. You try not to put too much meaning on the rejection.

She walked ahead of you, leading you back to your table but she never looked back at you once.

– 

The rest of the Met was spent with very little eating, a lot of socializing and saving face. This time, Jenna had stuck by your side as you made shop talk; introducing her as your girlfriend as everyone gushes about the two of you and the headlines you’ve been making as a couple online. You kept a hand around her waist as you two practically waltzed from group to group, in case there were ever eyes.

Neither of you mention when you keep your hand on her waist, even when no one was looking anymore.

But now, you are back at the hotel with your glam team and stylists getting you ready for the after-parties.

Thoughts of your talk with Jenna are put on the back burner as you desperately hoped to drink and party away the rest of the night; hoping you can still make somewhat of it, good, enjoyable even.

God knows you deserve it after the bullshit you’ve been receiving from everyone and their mothers about your night in Vegas.

You sat in front of the vanity mirror as your team hurriedly bustles behind you.

Fishing for your phone, you pull up Instagram and catch up on other people's posts for tonight. Since the days started, you've been pulled left and right with rehearsals and fittings and finally the actual Gala.

You haven't even so much as held your phone in your own hand.

Photos of you and Jenna have been posted on a minute-to-minute basis from the moment you stepped out of the hotel to just 20 minutes ago when you were both making your way back to get ready for the after-parties.

A certain video catches your eye.

It was of Jenna being escorted out into the hotel. (You two had to take your respective vans back, as well.) She was sending the fans waiting by the hotel, a soft and charming smile as she greeted them. You were staring at the video for so long that you didn’t even see the caption.

‘DID YOU SEE HER LOCKSCREEN?! <;3’

You see the next few comments below the caption of the video.

‘Stop Y/N and Jenna with her niece? This is the cutest photo ever’

‘They have kids already?’

‘IM CRYING JENNA’S LOCKSCREEN IS Y/N AND HER NIECE’

‘ISNT THIS THE PICTURE THAT JENNA’S MOM POSTED??”

‘ACTUAL PARENTS’

Oh shit, you are her lock screen.

When did she even send herself those photos? They were taken on your phone.

And more importantly, why did she make you and her niece, her lock screen? You thought the two of you were merely bantering when you had said you were going to make her yours. 

“How much longer are you gonna stare at that video?” Link asked from behind you making you jump, almost throwing the phone in the air.

“The fuck? Why is everyone sneaking up on me tonight…” You muttered bitterly, shooting him a glare through the mirror when you see his smirk.

You’re not sure if your pounding heartbeat is from the scare or from the thought of Jenna having you as her lock screen.

“You’re Jenna’s lock screen?” He asked in a teasing tone. You don’t reply just opting to close your eyes and groan as a response. 

He laughed. “Doesn’t seem like PR behaviour to me.” 

“Stop.” You grit.

But Link just howls, too amused by your flushed demeanour. 

He’s seen you in many forms.

At your highest, lowest, best and brightest, and even when you’ve been deep in the trenches. He’s seen it all. But this, you flustered over a girl? Never happened, ever. You’ve never even been smitten enough with someone to be flustered over them. Not even Hailee and that woman is a goddess.

First time for everything, Link thinks.

“Come on, change into this damn suit and make up with Jenna so she can be your woman.” He winked, still with that mischievous smirk. Keeping in theme with tonight, he holds up a Prada x Thom Browne two-piece suit made just for the after-party.

“If you want to keep your legs, I’d run in the next two seconds.” You glare, voice dropping seriously.

He hung up the suit bag on the coat hanger and swiftly walked out of the room. You ignore your team’s snickers in the back, getting up to go change in the bathroom.

Scanning yourself one last time in the full-length mirror, you look pretty hot, if you had to say so.

You blink away Link’s words and how you suddenly want to see Jenna’s reaction to your outfit. Pulling the bathroom door open, you step out and immediately take notice to the lack of bustle in the room.

Actually, the lack of people in the room.

All except one person, sitting by the couch, waiting.

“Hey… I thought we were meeting downstairs?” The creak of the door being pulled shut behind you was the only noise in the room.

Jenna blinked at the sound of your voice, turning to face you. “We were– we are.”

She shed off her blazer dress and the long train that followed, instead, she’s now wearing what was under and if you weren’t trying to be respectful, you’d be shamelessly staring at how perfectly that corset fit her like a glove.

Ignore that.

You raised a questioning brow, “What’s up then?”

But she said nothing and stood from her seat, walking in slow-clinking strides toward you. When she stops in front of you, she raises her hands to fiddle with your tie; not looking in your eyes. 

“Tie’s crooked.” She didn’t explain further, choosing to retie the tie for you.

“Thanks…” You trailed off, staring at how concentrated she looked doing such a menial task.

She must’ve heard the embarrassingly wispy tone cause when she looks up she’s giving you the softest look and you’re reminded of your first kiss at Coachella.

But clearly, this wasn’t Coachella because while lost in your daydream, unbeknownst to you, Jenna was fighting her own internal monologue; scolding herself for acting soft towards you despite her angry feelings. But when she looked up and caught you staring at her lips…

“Ow, fuck…” Your neck jerked forward, making Jenna flinch, breaking out of her own trance.

“Shit– sorry.” She unfastened the knot, swiftly. “Sorry, I didn't mean to make it that tight.”

You coughed out slightly, and for a guilty moment, Jenna didn’t know if she should feel happy or bad about being the cause.

“Sorry…” Jenna mumbled again, stepping back from you, no matter how much colder she felt. 

She was here for a reason.

“It’s okay.” You reassured, swallowing deeply. 

“Um–where’d everyone go?” You asked, remembering the once full and busy room.

“I sent them away. We need to talk.”

You raised a brow at the tone of her demand. “You want to do this… before the afterparties?”

Jenna pulled a face like she couldn't believe you were asking that. “Yes? Why, is there somewhere more important you needed to be?”

“What? No! I didn’t say that!” You defended then sighed, “But come on, Jenna, it’s the Met Gala afterparty… you waited the whole day to bring this up, why can’t we just wait until after?”

She stayed silent, crossing her arms.

You were confused until you took a second to scan her eyes, immediately reading the guilt swirling in them.

Your heart drops.

“You think I’m gonna go off the rails tonight or something?” You accused.

Jenna tiredly ran her hands on her face, “No Y/N, I’m just saying... this is the first party you’ve been to since Vegas so I’m sorry if I’m just a bit concerned.” She huffed, arms dropping limply by her side.

The laugh you let out is short and painful. “You call this concerned? ‘Cause from where I’m standing it feels more like an ambush. You don’t reply to my texts for days, you land in New York and you don’t try to see me. Then, when I bring it up you shut me down! How is that fair Jenna!”

“Don’t raise your voice at me…” She gritted, a warning glint in her eye appearing as her voice dropped.

You stared at her for a few moments before, sighing annoyedly. “Sorry…” You apologize begrudgingly.

“And you wanna talk about not replying for days? What about after SNL?” Jenna knows she’s being petty and nitpicking your words but she couldn’t stop herself even if she tried.

She feels herself losing her footing on the idea of a calm, mature conversation the longer you two argued. There was just something about being around you that made her lose all sense of rational and level-headed thinking.

“Not this again…” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose in irritation.

Jenna scoffed at your reaction. “Yes, this again.”

“I already told you that Jake needed me back for Coachella. Remember? Where I was performing?”

Jenna laughed dryly. “That is not what I’m talking about Y/N. I’m talking about the thumbs-up you left on my message after I asked if you got back to L.A. safely. You practically ghosted me."

Yeah… petty.

“Thumbs up?” You asked confused, trying to rack your brain. "Ghosted you?"

Jenna’s offended laugh was not one she could contain. “You are such an asshole.“

“Oh okay, I can’t raise my voice but you can call me names?”

Jenna's decided she's heard enough, turning swiftly on her heels to walk away.

“Uh hello—we’re not done here!” You follow after her. 

“Yes, I think we are!” Jenna declared behind her shoulder. 

“Says who?” You barked.

“Says me!”

You scoffed. “Why did you kiss me at Coachella?”

Jenna stopped in her tracks and turned around to face you upon hearing the question.

The silence is stifling. But she remained unmoving because why did she kiss you? Well, she knows the answer to that.

But she’s not ready to admit it yet — especially to you.

“For the press. There were people watching.” Eye contact unwavering as she spewed that lie.

You don’t say anything for a few moments — you don’t even call her bluff about your private moment in the tent where there was definitely no was watching.

“Maybe we should spend the night apart.” Was your answer, staring at her with the same intensity. “Go to different parties.”

You think that as actors, you’d both be able to read each other well enough. Except neither of you noticed the hurt in each other’s eyes.

“If that’s what you want.” Jenna replied, before turning on her heel and walking out the door.

-

shadowban can’t keep me away for long…

-

taglist is closed

@alexkolax @ladey @jjsmaybank20 @werewoofrobinbuckley @chealsib @fanboy7794 @la-douleur-ne-finit-jamais @zelload @natashadeservedmore @orang3-ish @friedryes @nahnahnahwhat @be-missed @jjuncidio @oksana-moods @theirishmanronan @r-ude @wokethefuxkup @skate-to-breathee @user173781 @frasersgf @justafoolinlove @bring-mecoffee @haughtsauce21 @wheesunsangel @zaza11sblog @omega-horus @selluequestrian @justalittledissociation @imaloserbby @catswag22 @smjmgko @acutenobody @raven-ss @canceldevvi @sweetaimu @rockwyn @rwndsana @cheesybacon123 @cvluswnt @secretbackrooms @vixen1006 @zhasmindoesntknow@ulicebld @rozmrazaradelfinow @icarly23 @cartierdreamx @thenextdawn @annalestern @noooodlessstuff @vstblrblog @godsfavouritelesbiann @vixensvoid

-

---