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poisonlove · 10 hours ago

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Journey to your heart | j.o (p.2)

Part 1

Pairing: Jenna Ortega X reader

"Are you feeling comfortable?" asked the woman sitting across from her, her voice calm.

Y/n blinked and lifted the corners of her lips into a trembling smile, her hands clutching her knees with almost desperate urgency in search of emotional support. She shifted uncomfortably on the settee, the weight of her body sinking gently into the cushions. Comfortable? she scoffed internally, more amused by the question than she probably should’ve been. Her eyes flicked briefly to the nearby tea table before returning to Mrs. Hawthorne.

The woman had one brow arched, curiosity painted clearly on her face.

"Oh yes, thank you for your hospitality," she replied faintly, clearing her throat. She swallowed audibly and turned her gaze toward Jenna, who was walking toward them with a silver tray in her hands. On it sat a porcelain teapot and several matching cups. Her brown hair bounced gently with every step, her fingers steady as she set the tray down on the table.

Their eyes met. There was curiosity in Jenna’s, and an unmistakable desire to put her at ease.

Jenna's lips curled into a welcoming smile.

Y/n let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and straightened up, the muscles in her neck tense as she clutched her right thigh. Her tongue darted out to wet her bottom lip before she pressed them into a tight line, trying to stifle the pain in her shoulder. The bandage was holding well, doing its job—but the ache was persistent. Too bad there’s no paracetamol yet, she thought with quiet defeat. And she wasn’t about to snitch on Jenna.

So the only option was to endure.

"My daughter told us—quite excitedly, I must say—that you’re from a city in the North," Mrs. Hawthorne began, her brown eyes flitting between Jenna and Y/n before settling with curious focus on the latter. Though time had etched faint traces on her face, her beauty remained visible, as did the striking resemblance to Jenna.

A porcelain cup rested delicately between her fingers as she awaited a response.

"Oh—yes, that’s right," Y/n mumbled nervously, feeling unsettled under the woman’s penetrating gaze. She rubbed her palms against the fabric of her skirt, trying to rid them of sweat, then pushed forward with her rehearsed role as a wealthy girl from the North.

"My father is a renowned judge," she declared softly.

Pressing her lips together again, she leaned forward to pick up a porcelain teacup with care.

Mrs. Hawthorne’s eyes widened at the revelation, her posture instantly straighter with newfound interest. Her gaze flicked to her daughter, who stood awkwardly by, quietly listening, and with a pointed look she urged her to fulfill her duty and serve the tea. Jenna quickly stepped forward, grasping the teapot handle and pouring tea first into Y/n’s cup, then into her mother’s.

Jenna offered her a warm smile, her dimples on full display, and Y/n couldn’t help but return the gesture. Jenna’s brown eyes shimmered with enthusiasm.

"A judge, is that so? How wonderful," the mother remarked, unable to hide her excitement at the possibility of forging ties with influential people. Y/n brought the teacup to her lips, the steam of the hot liquid flooding her senses before she took a sip.

"And tell me… have you already found a husband?" Mrs. Hawthorne asked with open curiosity.

The tea went down the wrong way, and Y/n started coughing, eyes watering as she struggled to compose herself. Jenna looked at her, visibly concerned.

"A husband? N-no, not really," she replied, voice still hoarse. "Let’s just say I’m… focused on other things."

"Oh, nonsense!" Mrs. Hawthorne exclaimed with a nervous laugh. "There’s nothing more important than finding a husband—especially at your age."

Y/n rolled her eyes briefly, forcing herself to smile. Jenna watched her, amused, her head tilted slightly in curiosity. With graceful fingers, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"And tell me… what do you do in your free time?" her mother asked, bringing the teacup to her lips.

Y/n sighed in relief at the change of subject and shifted on the sofa, looking for a more comfortable position. She leaned forward to set her cup down on the table, then turned her attention back to the woman.

"I study, I read, and when I have time, I write," she said simply.

Jenna lit up. A slow smile spread across her face, dimples perfectly visible.

Y/n felt her heart skip a beat. A warm flush rose in her chest at the sight of Jenna’s genuine excitement. Jenna took a seat beside her, body angled toward Y/n, eyes wide and gleaming with interest.

"Jenna!" her mother scolded in a sharp tone.

Jenna's fingers played absently with the fabric of her dress; their legs pressed together from how close they sat. But Jenna didn’t seem to mind. "You read? What do you like to read? And writing—do you really enjoy it?" she asked eagerly, her hand landing instinctively on Y/n’s arm.

A deep blush rose from Y/n’s neck to her cheeks as she looked at her. Jenna, entirely unaware of the effect she was having, seemed calm and curious. Her fingers clutched softly at Y/n’s shirt, fingertips brushing the palm of her hand. Blood pounded in her ears, her eyes widening at the unexpected touch.

"Forgive my daughter’s enthusiasm," Mrs. Hawthorne said, casting a reproachful glance at her daughter—but Jenna seemed entirely focused on Y/n.

Y/n’s gaze flicked quickly to the curve of Jenna’s neck—right at the base—where her collarbone jutted out gracefully beneath warm amber skin. She swallowed quietly, letting her eyes trail up along the sharp line of her jaw before settling on the soft, pink lips.

"She’s just excited to meet someone with same... interests," her mother murmured, her tone carrying the faintest edge of disapproval.

(---)

"Are you sure?" Y/n asked uncertainly, eyes fixed on the horse.

Jenna Hawthorne had suggested they go for a ride on one of the horses from their stable. Her mother wasn’t entirely convinced, but seeing her daughter’s enthusiasm—and after their guest’s hesitant yet positive response—she had agreed to the short outing. It had to be short: Jenna still had chores to attend to, piano practice, and reading to struggle through.

Reading wasn’t exactly Jenna’s strength but she seemed genuinely excited by it nonetheless.

Jenna giggled beside her, hand gently stroking the horse’s muzzle, which leaned into the touch with visible pleasure. A soft whinny filled the air, and Jenna let out a quiet laugh, her brown eyes shining with happiness. Y/n took a moment to observe her more closely, her gaze lingering—though restrained—with a hint of mischief on the gentle curves visible beneath the modest dress Jenna wore. Jenna tilted her head toward her, her chestnut hair framing her face with effortless elegance as her eyes studied Y/n with intensity.

Jenna reached out, her slender fingers wrapping around Y/n’s wrist before sliding down to intertwine with hers, gently guiding her toward the horse.

“He doesn’t mind. You can pet him,” she murmured behind her, voice low and calm.

Jenna’s body was close—almost pressing against her back, her chest lightly brushing Y/n’s spine. Y/n blinked rapidly and clenched her jaw, trying to ignore the contact, though her breathing had grown faster, more uneven.

“Go on,” Jenna encouraged, her warm breath brushing the side of her neck.

Y/n swallowed hard and placed her palm against the horse’s muzzle, locking eyes with the animal. When she saw that he welcomed her touch, she began to stroke him, surprised and delighted. A smile of disbelief spread across her lips as she ran her hand along the animal’s head. From the corner of her eye, she could feel Jenna’s intense gaze on her, and she pretended not to notice—though her stomach twisted in response.

“Come on, get on,” Jenna urged, amused.

Y/n turned to look at her, one eyebrow raised, and then clumsily attempted to mount the horse—but something went wrong. Her eyes widened the moment she lost balance, and the startled horse reared up. Y/n fell to the ground, pulling Jenna down with her before the other girl had a chance to move away.

Her back hit the ground, the fall softened slightly by the hay. She squeezed her eyes shut from the pain, her breath caught in her throat from the weight on her chest.

When she opened her eyes again, Jenna was on top of her. The girl’s chest was pressed against hers, and Y/n’s hand had instinctively wrapped around Jenna’s waist, her fingers brushing the prominent bone of her hip. Y/n swallowed thickly, her face flushed red. Jenna’s brow was slightly furrowed from the fall, a lock of hair falling over her eyes, lips curled in an expression somewhere between annoyance and amusement. Her brown eyes locked onto Y/n’s, and she made no move to pull away.

“I knew I shouldn’t have listened to you,” Y/n muttered, trying to mask her embarrassment.

Jenna laughed softly, still not moving an inch.

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