#emma myers x yn

[nouvxllev]

Absolutely love your work! And was ecstatic when I found out you also did Emma myers! And you write so well!! 🥹 I don’t know if you’ll be up to this, so don’t feel the need I know your probably a busy bee. But I wanted to know since you do Emma myers, if you’d be willing to to do a cc Walker aged up fic, maybe where cc is in college, and she’s in a relationship with reader (I absolutely loved your jealous Tara fic) but I was wondering if you could do cc, but make it a little more soft, and possessive? Like Cc is more afraid that reader will leave her? And just soft smut? (Sapphic of course) if not then I understand. I also wanted to know if once A good girls guide to murder comes out, will you be doing pop x reader? Because Emma is so cute as pip! ❤️❤️

would it kill you to look at me instead?

Pairing: CC Walker x Fem!Reader

Summary: ^^ request!!

Words: 5k (i was not expecting that damn)

Warnings: soft smut, slight angst. actually idk if its cut out to be angst, possessive cc aaaaaaa, author forgot how to actually write good stories

a/n: thank you so so sooo much!!!! and i was absolutely in love with agggtm when i read the book (i even got the whole series on my bookshelf!) so ofc ill be doing a pip x reader soon. hope i got to your expectations, anon.

masterlist.

"CC, what's up with you?"

Ava trailed after her, CC's shoes skittering along the hallway like some kind of menace, the slam of her door from her dorm was still echoing in Ava's ears.

Despite having just finished training five minutes ago, CC's steps were quick. Like they were avoiding any sort of conversation, she didn't even know why or where she was going.

"CC, please, you haven't even talked to me in a week!" Ava caught up to her, nearly tackling the girl to keep pace with her steps.

"Okay, what?" The blonde turned around abruptly, wind catching in her hair. She almost could roll her eyes if not for Ava being the sweetest being on this earth. "What, for fucks sake, what is so wrong with me?"

"That." She gestured using her pointer finger while the shorter girl pulled her lips into a thin line, "You keep snapping at everyone, and you've been staring daggers at the squad all week. It was mild at first, but now you look like you want to bury them in front of their families."

Ava leaned in further, squinting her eyes as she crosses her arms, "...Also you have these deep eyebags under your eyes."

CC's shoulder slumped, letting out an heavy sigh while her eyes closed. It burns, burns like fucking hell.

"I—"

Ava jumped forward, her eyes furrowing almost immediately, "Don't say because of exams since you're doing pretty good in terms of academics. You're even top in your classes."

"Well, fine. It's—"

"Don't say soccer too because I know your eyebags only come out of hiding when it's tournament or championship season."

"Okay, Wyatt—"

"Yale is like a million miles from us, CC. Also you don't even text Wyatt unless you need something."

"Well, I..." CC fidgeted under her, her head tilting left and right, "We've, my girlfriend have.... Have been fucking. Sex. Alot. Major, huge sex. Like, up and down, sideways, horizontally, transversally—"

"Alright, no," Ava pulled out her hand and stopped her, her other pinching the bridge of her nose, "Not in any universe would I want to hear about you and y/ns sex life."

CC chuckled, the only laugh she could ever muster. "Look, college's been kicking my ass lately and I'm just tired, really. Nothing to worry about." In all truth and oaths, she was.

She was tired.

For all the different reasons. Might even be petty ones.

So tired of hearing that one name—Clarissa Grey—coming out of your, admittedly so attractive, pretty mouth. She was a transferee yet she already caught your attention with a single 'hey, i'm new here, can you show me around?'

It had been five weekdays, not even counting weekends where Clarissa horribly clung onto you outside of school, of having your presence found nowhere but with that girl.

Normally, CC would spend every waking hour, if not for soccer, with you and you only. Clinging to your arms, holding your warm hands, tip-toeing to kiss your pretty lips she so adored, bringing you to the most expensive places you wanted, and most especially waking up with you in the early morning with your body sprawled atop hers.

It was bliss.

Was.

Now that CC was constantly being pulled to practice she couldn't spend as much time as she wanted with you. Meanwhile, Clarissa had you wrapped around her arms.

In short, Clarissa Grey is and will forever be a pain in the ass.

Clarissa—Insufferable, torturous, agonizing, intolerable, girlfriend-hogging—Grey.

She hated her.

Well, not hated. It's a strong word, a word she couldn't ever describe your, her forever beloved girlfriend, friends. Yet this girl got on her nerves more than ever.

And she's pretty sure this girl's been trying to get into your pants more than CC ever does after a rough game.

Clarissa was fine at first. CC wasn't those controlling partners who didn't allow their other to have friends; in fact, she was happy that you found a friend in the new transferee from across the world.

Now she felt like she was about to butcher the girl from mouth to anus if she ever so much as catching a wind of her presence of how she was constantly stealing you away from her.

CC took months just to muster a hi and introduce herself (through text mind you) and she didn't even check her phone for weeks after it. New girl did it in one damn day.

How could one even out-girlfriend a girlfriend of three years?

Now whenever it hits midnight and CC is finally in your arms all she could hear is:

"I'm so sorry baby, Clarissa made some plans for us."

"Sorry, CC. I have something to do with Clarissa on that date."

"Clarissa wanted to…"

"Baby, is it alright if Clarissa invited me to…"

"CC! Check it out, Clarissa just…

It's ridiculous and all CC could say was a simple yeah sure and a nod like she wasn't going to bash Clarissa's head in with a soccer ball.

She'd admit that even you get the end of the stick with her attention sometimes because of her first-class popularity that always seemed to stick around, but either way she felt really bad.

Jealousy was a stupid emotion which a stupid college girl, mind you, like her was stupidly experiencing. She was 19 experiencing her old 13 year old problems if she met you a bit more earlier. But who wouldn't get jealous?

She had the same interests as you, the same personality, likes the same movies as you, you both had an interest in whatever artist you were listening too.

She practically hung out with you everyday with how the both of you took the same classes and courses. The two of you were perfect on paper.

Clarissa wasn't some soccer-obssessed girl who doesn't spend her time in training for championships that you found yourself spending every second with her if CC wasn't around.

She has a great fashion sense without looking like whatever a 'teenybopper' is or someone dressed like Adam Sandlers.

She's probably great at cooking.

She kept her room impossibly clean as if it were brand new that you found impressive everytime she invited the both of you to her dorm.

She had this amazing ball of sunshine whenever she entered the room like it was a plague.

She probably followed what her mom told her to be when she gets into college.

She was pretty too. Her hair all shiny and she carried absolute grace and poise. Who wouldn't like her?

And that smile of hers? You found it nice. Charming, captivating. Even CC found it enchanting, it was all so surreal.

You liked her, most of all.

Shit.

Not that CC could ever doubt your loyalty to her; hell, she could invite every former crush and celebrity crush you had, and you wouldn't even bat a single eye towards them. You'd even try to desperately find the girl even if she wasn't in the room.

She doubted herself.

Who was she if not for you?

She just missed you. So much. It's killing her.

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"CC!" You yelled, a smile creeping up your lips as you watched her jog up the bleachers in her new shoes you bought for her as an anniversary gift, it was an understatement to say that she loved it.

You watched how her exhausted face broke into a slight smile that managed to never fail to make your heart grow a garden of flowers trying to mimic her beauty, her eyes lighting up by the mere sight of you.

When she finally reached you, she practically melted into your inviting embrace. You held her chose, feeling the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she caught her breath, her exhaustion from practice matches slowly going away from being in the comfort of our arms.

You feel how her breaths gradually steadied, her heartbeat turned into its normal pace, her hands snaking up to your back while she buried her head into you, subtly peppering gentle kisses along your neck.

"Y/n..." She murmured, pulling her head away slightly and turning to the side.

Your arms stayed lingered around her waist, "Yeah, baby?"

She shook her head, eyebrows slightly knitting themselves as her gaze drifted at the seats as she inched closer to your ear, "Why... why is she here?" She squeezed your hand that was wrapped around her.

You followed her line of sight to where Clarissa sat on the bleachers right next to you, watching the players off to the side at her own time.

"Well, she wanted to come along with me," you explained with a shrug, "so I brought her here." A soft smile gracing your lips as you glanced at CC who didn't match your sunny expression.

"You guys done yet?" She looked up at the both of you, her voice was oddly monotone and disinterested. Unlike a few moments ago where she was clinging onto your arm while laughing.

You lowered your arms from CC's body as you sat beside Clarissa, gesturing to your girlfriend to slightly introduce her even if they already met a couple of times.

You didn't miss the way CC's face twisted into a grimace one as she crossed her arms, mumbling a slightly less than thrilled exclaim, "Fantastic."

"It is fine for me to cheer you on, right?" Clarissa smiled. Way too innocently at CC as if she wasn't just staring her down, the change in her tone didn't go unnoticed.

"Yeah. Yeah sure, whatever." CC replied, albeit the response came through gritted teeth as she picked up a waterbottle that sat beside you.

Clarissa smiled, laughed even, before leaning her head against you. "We have something to go after anyways, right y/n?" She looked up at you, innocent eyes that definitely didn't mimic yours as you stuttered out a response.

"We do? I didn't—"

"Okay, no, that's—!" CC's reaction was swift, immediately pulling you closer to her side, her hand having a firm grip on your arm as her voice rose in frustration yet faltered.

CC paused, seemingly collecting herself. You turned to her, confusion etched in your face, while Clarissa had a slight tug in her lips.

"That's... perfect. Amazing," she finally managed to say, letting go of her tight grip on you before standing up. "Sorry, I really have to go, I think they're calling for me. Enjoy whatever plans the both of you have."

You hear Clarissa giggle as you watch CC walk down the steps, her waterbottle discarded onto a nearby trashcan. It wasn't even half done. "Guess she doesn't like me, huh?"

A soft sigh escape your lips, your mood officially worried and concerned about CC before turning to Clarissa, "Yeah... Yeah, sorry, we have plans?"

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Nothing could be more worrying than allowing your girlfriend CC-can't-really-monitor-her-liquor-properly-Walker attend a night party held by her teammates as some sort of 'pre-celebration' before a game.

You were already deprived out of her presence, being that you always stuck with that new girl you couldn't really find time to hang out with your girlfriend no longer than 30 minutes.

Not to mention what happened a few hours ago.

You miss her so much its tearing you apart. Unfortunately you're the book definition of a people pleaser so you took the courage to show Clarissa around for a few weeks until she got comfortable with the setting.

Most of the times CC would invite you to come along with to parties. Rejection often means she would be clinging onto your back like a koala and making out with you until the words associated with your academics disappeared from your mind.

Now she just entered the dorm, gave you a single kiss without explanation, and a simple text minutes later just stating 'ill be at a party. see you midnight xx.'

That in itself made you worried. No normal breathing CC Walker would ever use perfect grammar or would her be's or you's spelled correctly without any missing letters.

So imagine your surprise when she arrived two hours before twelve. Wasted and slightly teary-eyed, her pretty eyes avoiding looking at your direction. It was an understatement that the sight broke your heart.

"CC?" You rushed to her side almost immediately, ignoring the concerns of the amount of tasks you had on your desk.

You were met with silence. "CC, baby, are you alright? Did something happen?" you asked softly, "love, hey, look at me." You reach out to steady her as she swayed on her feet more and more in her intoxicated state until she reached her bed.

She shrugged off your touch, feeling a nagging sting in your heart that burned a void inside of you. You watched as she mutter something unintelligible under her breath, gritting her teeth as she stared at the ground.

"CC, talk to me." You carefully sat with her against your bed, fetching her the water that has been sitting on your desk, tilting your head to get her attention.

Her head turned to you, her eyes glassy and unfocused. Her pretty eyes that you adored were almost teary-eyed, "Would it kill you to look at me instead, y/n?"

"CC..." you tilted your head, your eyebrows furrowing, "CC... what? What are you talking about?"

"Why are you always with her? Clarissa?" Her name almost felt like poison in her mouth, awaiting to be spit out in venom, "Why is she always with you when I'm not around? Why are you always looking at her even if I'm mere inches away from you?"

She shook her head before you could respond, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. "It's dumb. I know you're allowed to spend time with your friends. And even more to her since she's new and everything. You could spend time with anyone and I wouldn't care but I—" She took a deep breath, "Every time I see you with her, it's like… like she's much more of a good girlfriend than me you know? Because she likes you. It's kind of clear."

You couldn't feel anything but that gruesome feeling that's eating you apart. You could feel your heart tearing your own self apart as she spoke more.

"She looks at you as if you're hers, y/n. Not to mention she's always touching you, calling you names, always going out of her way to be alone with you... I mean, she asked you out as a joke. Multiple times."

"CC I never thought…" You feel a lump forming in your throat, her words heavy on your heart that were surely more heavier on hers. "I'm sorry, CC."

You reached out to cup her cheek, her body turning to face you, your thumb gently wiping a stray tear that fell on her face. "I'm so sorry, CC. You're not losing me. You will never lose me," you whispered, "I care about you more than anything. More than I breathe. I'm so sorry I made you feel like you were losing me. You have my whole heart, my body, my very soul."

Her gaze softened slightly, you could see that familiar glint you always loved to look at when you locked eyes with her. You missed it. "Is that a promise?"

Gently, you brushed your fingers against her cheek, pressing delicate kisses to her soft skin. "Far more important than a promise. I'll keep it like an oath on my life."

You let your arms wrap around her, feeling her slumping against you, curling against herself between your arms like she was trying to drown all of her burdens for you. "I'm just afraid that you'll leave me. I'm sorry for blowing up on you. I'm sure Clarissa is great."

CC felt warm, comforting, a presence that made you feel like everything to her, how she always kept you grounded. "It's alright, CC. I've been there before, don't worry. And for the record, I'm kind of getting tired of showing her around. Just a slight bit. I'll try introducing her to some people."

CC smiled against your neck, "You don't have to ignore her completely, baby. It's fine. I think my insecurities just got the best of me."

She's as comforting as the day you met her. The comforting sense of love, how you'd wake yourself up everyday just to see her face. Even if your heart gives out, you'd work through turmoil for it to beat for her. Even if you're tired, you'd manage enough energy for her to enjoy life with you.

"I'll never let you doubt my love for you again. No one could ever replace what I'm feeling with you, no one could ever replace you. You're simply everything baby, everything that life never gave me and everything life never offered."

You press a tender kiss to her forehead before making your way to her lap, pulling her collar and capturing her lips in a soft yet deep kiss.

CC responded eagerly to your kiss, closing her eyes while she let her hands wrap around your waist as she parted her lips to invite yours in as her tongue slipped between them.

With a low groan of ecstasy, you welcomed her intrusion, your own tongue fighting with hers yet you surrendered almost immediately, every touch of her in on your body sent shivers down your spine, leaving you craving for more of her.

You could feel her hands sliding under your shirt, the simple warmth of her touch, how her fingers glided smoothly against your skin and trailing to your chest was like reassurance that you were wanted and loved by her, how you were only hers.

"Baby…" you managed to murmur between her assaulting kisses that only seemed to spur her on as you went limp on her body, "have I ever told you I love the way you talk..."

You couldn't help but grin at the soft chuckle that escaped her pretty lips at your words, her kisses only growing more fervent as CC pressed herself against you all while she looked up at you with those eyes, waiting for you.

"The way you smile…" you trailed off, tugging at her shirt, tracing your fingers along her jawline, "the way you get jealous, the way you get so competitive sometimes, the way you look so lovely every waking moment, it's intoxicating."

You kissed her deeply, savoring the taste of her lips as you softly bit at her bottom lip, your voice turning husky and needy with desire, "Most importantly, I love the way you fuck me into your bed every night. You know no girl could drive me insane like what you're doing to me right now."

You didn't miss how CC's breath hitched at your words, how her eyes darkened with desire almost immediately as she pulled you by the collar of your shirt and flipped the both of you around. her hands roaming all over your body as she mumbled to her breath.

"I want you," she pleaded, "I need you, y/n, please." It wasn't a question, she needed this.

You wrapped your legs around her waist, pulling her close, feeling the heat of her body on top of yours as you mumbled a weak 'yes.'

CC took her time in showering you with the amount of kisses she wanted to give you, offering everything you needed with tenderness you never thought existed, the special attention that she always showed to you, worshipping every inch of your body.

She looked up at you, noticing the way your eyes closed, uncertain of whether it was out of pure bliss or discomfort. "Y/n, is this okay?", she asked softly, squeezing your hand that laid off to the side.

That was the thing about CC that you always adored, how she took the time to make sure you were comfortable in whatever she was doing. Whether she was rough or not, she was still so gentle with you, treating you as if you were porcelain about to break.

In the span of three years, her sweet and caring nature never faded no matter how much time you'll be spending time with her. She was the sweetest girl that only you knew.

You smiled at her, "Yes, CC, everything is okay. Just remind me of how much I'm yours to handle."

She nodded before returning to her usual, pulling up your shirt until it was completely off your body, "You're always so gorgeous…" She whispered against your skin, pressing her lips on your body, trailing down your chest. Each touch was gentle and tender, all just for you to feel cherished.

"I'm gonna take it off, okay, sweetheart?" CC murmured before she was lifting up your hips herself, her fingers sliding into your waistband and discarding your shorts and undergarments off to the side.

You gasped at the sudden cold air hitting your warmth as CC knelt below you to get the perfect view of your pretty pussy she so adored.

You suck a moan under her hot breath against your clit, her arms wrapping around your thighs to pull you in, "Baby, please…"

"I'll get there, pretty girl." CC whispered, taking soft licks of your juices, lapping them as she inched a little further into your warmth, groaning against you.

She looked up, watching how your body reacts with her each touch she had on you, whether she should follow your wants or what she needs to be satisfied.

She could see the flicker of pleasure in your eyes, the way your breath hitched, how you sound with every whine that elicited from your glossy lips, the way you try to cover your moans with your palm.

CC moved away, your needy whine didn't go unnoticed, her lips brushing against your wet clit before wrapping around the needy warmth and sucking gently, your body instinctively creating the perfect arch, your hips rolling into your face as you chased to get the most friction out of her mouth as she held you down by her arms.

But just as you felt nearing an orgasm, CC pulled away, only leaving you panting and wanting more.

She towered over you, spreading your legs as she leaned in closer, the sight of your juices on your lips turned you on even more.

"What do you want, baby? Tell me," she whispered, leaning in closer and planting soft kisses along your face as she waited for your answer.

"You… want you.. inside," you whispered, "want all of you, right now, please…" you moaned as the words spilled out of you in a desperate plea, discreetly rolling your hips against her thigh.

CC smiled down at you, her touch gentle and loving as her hands trailed down below to caress your soft skin before giving you what you wanted, while the other hand held up your head, showering you with praises after praises.

You kissed her back, feeling her fingers slowly inching towards your entrance that sent shivers down your spine. You tried to kiss her once again, trying to drown out your rather loud moans yet your efforts failed.

"Such a good girl, you're taking me so well..." CC praised you, smiling against your lips, "You're so pretty like this, baby. All just for me." She inserted all three fingers inside of you, stretching you out in the most delicious way possible.

"F-fuck! CC, please," you moaned, looking up at her as she looked right at you back, covering your mouth with only your palm. Getting caught having sex with your girlfriend at night in a literal college dorm wasn't in your applications at all.

CC, however, seemed unfazed as she panted, rolling and curling her fingers inside of your warm heat, always finding that one spot that had you seeing stars. "Are you close?" she asked, speeding up her pace.

You could only nod frantically in response, feeling a knot tightening in your stomach, "Yes, yeah, I'm close," you gasped, your body almost trembling in pleasure.

"You know, Clarissa is only a dorm away from us." She took hold of your wrists and held them high above your head, her grip still soft to touch, like she was still trying to take care of you. "You're going to scream my name. Not 'baby', not 'love', not Clarissa or whatever her name is. Not anyone."

Your eyes widened in surprise, your mouth opening to protest, but you were cut off before you could speak.

"I want everybody to hear that you're mine, especially her." She continued, her fingers pushing deep into you as you arched your back, "I want her to know how good I'm fucking you, how well you're taking every inch of me. Tell them what a good girl you are for me."

In your clouded haze, you desperately nodded with half-lidded eyes that stared back at her, your mouth half opened as she kept eliciting pathetic moans and whines from your lips.

"M' gonna cum, baby… CC, please," you whimpered, your voice strained and coming out in choked sobs, feeling the knot tightening deep inside of you. CC relentlessly pushed you closer to the edge, your back arching as she whispered praises after praises.

She released your arms from her grasp and you immediately wrap them around her neck, pulling her impossibly close to your body, her fingers thrusting deeper inside of your pussy while her thumb traced your clit in circles.

"Don't hold it, y/n. Cum for me, pretty girl, it's alright," she whispered as you brought her close to your neck, pressing one last kiss to your skin, satisfying everything inside of you with one last thrust.

You cum almost immediately after, "CC! F-fuck!" you moaned, making sure everyone can hear you. Your walls clenched around her fingers all while she still tried to pump them in and out of you, her hand slick with your cum that went nowhere but down her palm.

You wrap your legs around her waist, seeking support in her body as your own trembled in pleasure, your back arching as you gradually went down from your high, "M' all yours, CC! S-shit, you're fucking me so well!" you gasped, your words coming out in ragged breaths as you were brought to a back to back orgasm.

While you were coming down from your high, CC was already showering you with kisses all over your body, whispering sweet nothings, words of praises and adoration that automatically flowed on instinct from her lips, "I'm right here, y/n. God, you're so so so perfect."

When she felt your body begin to relax, going limp on CC, she gently withdrew from you, reaching out for a nearby stand to grab a pair of tissues. She wiped her fingers clean and gently cleaned the beads of sweat that formed on your forehead.

"You did so well, baby," she murmured, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips. "I'm so proud of you, pretty girl. I love you so much."

CC slid her arms under your body, lifting you up and placing you against the headboard, taking note of how your eyes were shut close and your breaths were slightly labored. "Y/n? Y/n, are you alright? Was I too much?"

You chuckled softly, opening your eyes to meet her gaze as she settled into your lap, her arms wrapping around you protectively. Like you'd run away and never return into her hold. Her eyes were too pretty, too full with love and care for you, almost as if you already died and went to heaven.

"You were too soft, actually." you laughed, leaning in to kiss her, tasting her natural lipgloss with the mix of your juices; an odd taste you'd say. "Is that what jealousy gets to CC Walker?"

"Definitely not," she replied almost immediately. "But seeing you with her makes me feel like I am. I needed to feel close to you, for you to feel close to me…" Her voice trailed off, her words faltering. She was always the one who talked alot about her feelings, yet it always seemed so distant and struggled.

"Well, you're not really mine mine since, of course, you don't really belong to anybody. Hell, even I don't own you and no one should think that! But you know I just—"

You reached up to cup her cheek as you cut her off, your thumb brushing lightly against her skin, a gentle smile playing on your lips.

"Oh, you know a girl batting her eyes at me won't change the way I feel about you. That's completely ridiculous," you reassured her. "You're always going to be my top 1. You have my birthday on your jersey for fuck sakes, who couldn't say no to that?"

Her lips curved into a smile, a relief expression is what you'd assume. "Guess you've brought up a solid argument," she laughed, leaning into your touch. "I'll run you a bath, okay?"

"I'll come with," you were already trying to stand up until CC pushed you back down.

"As... a trophy winner of an international soccer team, I suggest you lie back down. Maybe watch a couple of movies or two and let me do the taking care part." She leaned on your forehead and walked to the shower, already gathering your clothes and towel.

You sat up from the bed, a stupid smile across your face as you watched this girl do everything for you. Oh, the way she was so sweet for you was unbelievable. "Don't you need a degree for me to believe you?"

"Yeah!" She yelled across the room, "But I am your girlfriend and you believed me when I said I almost quit soccer because of a shoulder injury when in actuality it was my mom. So." She shrugged, already entering the shower and turning on the faucet before returning back to you.

"You're simply awful." You smiled as you watch her come back with a water and her laptop. "I love you." You say as you kiss her forehead.

"I love you too. So much." She smiled, "but one thing." She sat beside you, rising up a blanket to cover your naked body as she waited for the bathtub to fill. "You have to promise me that you'll keep your eyes on me. And me only."

"Still on Clarissa?"

"Unfortunately so."

You chuckle. "Then, I promise on my life that I'll keep my eyes only for CC Walker. And CC Walker only."

"Forever?"

"Forever and Always."

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a/n: this is longer than i anticipated it to be

[rollingsins]

three's a crowd, part ten (epilogue)

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten (epilogue)

summary: you hadn’t expected this. to fall in love. with not one girl, but two. you hadn’t expected to ruin their friendship. love triangle au. 

pairing: jenna ortega x reader, emma myers x reader

word count: 920 words.

a/n: last part so it's bittersweet. thanks to all who read and came along for the journey :)))

The weekend feels like a blur.

You spend most of it in Jenna’s bed.

You call it making up for lost time. Jenna calls it making you cum so many times you lose count.

And then on Monday morning, when you walk onto set, your hand entwined with hers, everyone stares. 

Georgie smiles so hard you’re a little worried his jaw might lock. Joy gives you a look like she’s been waiting for it this entire time. Hunter is a mix of judgment and approval, you’re not sure what wins out. 

But Emma’s reaction is the one you’re most concerned about.

She’s talking with Johnna when you walk in, and if she sees the kiss you give Jenna before you part, she doesn’t react. 

Your scenes are with her today. Sunday night had been a mix of anxiety, and Jenna, and some more anxiety. The last thing you want to do is upset Emma. 

Even if she’d inadvertently given you her blessing.

But she doesn’t acknowledge it. 

You run through your scenes, fine. Pretend you’re in love with her. Give her the doe eyes you now reserve for Jenna. 

And when the director calls cut, you’re left biting your lips and staring at your hands, all confidence lost. 

Jenna’s by the craft services table, talking to Hunter. 

Emma drops down into her chair, checks her phone briefly, and then looks up at you.

“You left early on Friday.” 

Weighted. Like she knows exactly where you were. Your cheeks flush red. 

“Yeah…” You trail off, “I…. we….”

“It’s okay.” Says Emma, peering up at you, “We all know where you were. I mean, you made it pretty obvious.”

You swallow. 

“I-”

“You don’t have to explain,” Continues Emma, “I’m happy for you.” 

At this, you raise an eyebrow. 

“Seriously.” Emma says, and she looks like she means it, “I’m not being underhanded or whatever. I’m happy for you.”

“Okay,” You say, not really sure what else to say, “Thanks.”

She pauses. And then looks up at you.

“I’m not jealous.” She says after a long moment. 

At this you pause. 

“Okay?”

She bites her lip. Puts her phone down. 

“I thought I would be, but I’m not.” She continues. There’s something behind her eyes. Maybe relief. Maybe freedom. 

You swallow. Lean in a little closer, so the crew can’t hear. 

“I should apologize to you.” You say, but she cuts you off. 

“You already did-”

“But I didn’t.” You insist, “Not really.” 

Jenna’s watching, you can feel her gaze from a mile off. But right now, for a moment, your concern isn’t for her. 

“I hid behind confusion because it was easy,” You confess. Your hands are a little sweaty. You don’t do well with this - with home truths. But she needs to hear it. You care about her still, “And it was wrong. I shouldn’t have led you on. And I’m sorry.” 

Emma leans back in her seat. 

“Everything that went down between us - whoever was right and wrong, it doesn’t matter,” You continue, “At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter. You should just know that I’m sorry.”

She’s staring at you, gaze open. Like she doesn’t hold a grudge. 

“It’s fine,” She says, “I’m happy. We’re both happy. You and I- I thought we would have been happy together, but I was wrong. You would always pine for someone else, and I would always pine for wanting to be first choice.”

You don’t know what to say to that, so you say nothing. Drop your shoulders in a silent shrug. 

Emma’s eyes glint. 

“I would offer for us to go on a double date,” She says, voice light, “But it might be a tad awkward.” 

And that’s the end of it. 

It’s easier than you expected. 

You don’t know what you expected. 

Things to be thrown. Hearts to be broken. 

You don’t expect the acceptance. But you’ll take it, regardless. 

Emma and Johnna head off, hands linked as you stare. You feel a pair of hands on your shoulders, grip too tight to be Jenna’s. And then you turn around to see Georgie. 

“Nice.” Is all he says, a sly smile on his face, “Nice.”

“Shut up.” You murmur, but you’re too happy to be annoyed with him. Jenna’s smiling at you, across the room. 

She’s beautiful. Everything you dreamed. Everything you ever wanted. 

And she’s yours. 

“Don’t mean to brag,” Georgie continues, as Jenna walks over, “But I was team-soulmate from the beginning.” 

“Shut up.” You murmur, before she can hear. 

She touches your arm. The look on her face suggests she wants more than a touch. But there’s company. 

“Everything okay?” She asks, eyes questioning. You reassure her fears with a smile. 

“Everything’s okay.” 

She pauses. Bites her lip. 

“Emma wants to grab coffee, tomorrow,” She says, and her voice betrays her excitement, “She says she wants to be friends again.” 

“That’s great, baby.” You say, voice soft, and you mean it. It means you haven’t ruined everything. 

It means they’re still friends, despite everything. 

Before you can tell her so, Hunter is walking over, looking far more sober than you’ve ever seen him. He appraises your trio with eagle eyes. At first, you think he might say something. Might pull out his needle and pop your love bubble. 

But then he smiles. 

“Drinks, Friday night.” He says, peering over at you and Jenna, “PDA non-optional, please.” 

Jenna laughs, and then looks your way. 

“No promises,” She says, voice coy. 

And then she kisses you.

Masterlist

[deep-fried-egg]

Now I am more interested in the g!p headcannons for CC Bog 😂😂 got anything else you’d like to share with me? ❤️🤭

IF THIS GETS DELETED ONE MKRE TIME IM CRYING. I originally wrote these at 11 am today smh.

Cc would probably be very experimental. She loves trying new things (that she usually sees in porn)

I think the farthest she would go with that is breath play… but she would get too nervous the second the time comes and it wouldn’t actually happen.

Cc doesn’t want any kids of her own EVER so she doesn’t have sex with r if she doesn’t have condoms.

She gets super turned on from porn that surrounds a breeding kink but that shit is not for her to try in real life.

Girlie doesn’t know where the clit is

She’s pretty vanilla since she doesn’t know how to ask r to try anything else.

When she did get enough courage to ask, she asked r to peg her since she thought it would feel good… it didn’t since she wouldn’t loosen up.

She doesn’t have a big dick, I mean it’s pretty small but she can use that thing.

She used to masturbate on calls to rs voice before they got into a relationship.

During her first time with r literally nobody came since she couldn’t find the right spots to hit.

We love our awkward girlll

[billieeilishshusband]

Summary: Billie Eilish is asked about the close friendship she has between you and her during her hot ones interview. While your standing behind the camera

Billie was panting the heat really hit it. "So Billie I had seen a lot recently of you and YN. How close are you guys as friends?" She looked at the man then looked at you and then looking around. "So uh- shit this really hurts to speak. So me and YN- oh my god- have known each other for a long time and we- I actually don't know how we became friends. But I liked YN a lot.-" still panting and tearing a bit she looked at you. "YN come here" she said you walked over to her in frame of the camera she hugged you while still sitting down "I love you more than a friend"

"oh shit- what?" I said taking my headphones out "were you listening?" She said pulling away while laughing with the guy. "Gonna be real I only came over because I saw you signalling me to come here" she took the headphones and listened it was her own song "best shit ever" she hugged you again "I love you Billie" you said

[winterrrnight]

hellraiser (part II)

PAIRING: drew starkey x co-star!actress!reader

SUMMARY: an instagram blurb about drew and his co-star y/n and dating allegations

FACE CLAIM: Emma Myers

WARNINGS: pictures with blood and alcohol

EDITH SPEAKS: AND ITS OUT!! I hope you all enjoy because this is giving me life 🤭🤭 I'm sick but I've never felt happier because I am spending my day in my bed reading and completely chilling :')

a lil disclaimer ab the second post: I made up the fact that drew is allergic to nuts!!

I made up all the instagram users, so if by any chance I have your instagram user used here, I'm so sorry I promise it was a total coincidence!

if you enjoyed this please reblog!! feedback is always appreciated 🌼

this is part two to this fic!

navigation || join my taglist || requests

liked by ynvibez, ynfan21 and 67,283 others

ynupdates yn via ig stories!

tagged: yourinstagram, drewstarkey

starkeylove they are just casually posting their own stuff as if people aren't speculating something more between them 😭💀

user31 LMAOO

rafezcameron not them completely ignoring the dating allegations

-> obxfan11 honestly, slayed

liked by madelyncline, loveondrew, and 2,482,180 others

yourinstagram picnics w this one

tagged: drewstarkey

drewstarkey the way you almost killed me with those brownies

-> yourinstagram I forgot you are allergic to nuts okay??? give it up now 🙄

-> ynfan21 OH SHIT

-> cameronluvbot YNNNNN ADBSHAJSJAEOW

-> iheartyn YN???? WHAT THE FUCK????

yncloudz this has got to be a soft launch

rafestarkey they give me major bi panic

iloveyn THEYRE GOING ON PICNICS TOGETHER???

-> ynfan10 RIGHT IM SO

liked by drewslove, rafescoke and 901,382 others

drewstarkeyupdates drew and y/n at the hellraiser premiere today!

tagged: drewstarkey, yourinstagram

iluvrafe OMG THEY LOOK SO GOOD

obxfan80 drew's beard 😩

ynvibez yn looks so pretty 🥹

-> drewsify SHES GORG

liked by rudeth, madelyncline and 3,382,301 others

drewstarkey hellraiser ft me & this random woman is out now hope u enjoy

tagged: hellraiserthemovie, yourinstagram

yourinstagram 'random woman'? WOW

-> drewstarkey 😘

madelyncline 4+4

-> drewstarkey ♥️

iluvrafe omggg this movie is so so good and you both are so perfect 😭😭

rafeyyy YALL ARE SO AMAZING

ynrocks THEIR ACTING >>>>

-> ynfan21 THEM >>>>

liked by jonathandavissofficial, drewiseverything and 2,902,992 others

yourinstagram the after party hits hard

tagged: drewstarkey

drewstarkey yes it hit hard because you got so drunk you bumped into a wall

-> yourinstagram and now my forehead has swollen up

-> drewfan87 YALL

nick_v_cirillo i missed it :/

-> yourinstagram and we missed you ☹️

drewslove yn and drew seem like the best people to party with

-> rafes_starkey and they also seem like the best therapists

-> drewfan12 REAL

liked by ynvibez, rafescoke and 990,382 others

ynupdates yn and drew via a video on a friend's stories!

tagged: yourinstagram, drewstarkey

ynvibez AND THIS ONE ISNT DELETED????

rafezcameron OH SHITTT

rafeluvbot OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD

ynfan90 there's no way they aren't together

liked by yourinstagram, brooke_starkey and 2,283,671 others

drewstarkey happy birthday to the one who makes me so happy 💗

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liked by drewstarkey, drewsify and 2,902,549 others

yourinstagram ❤️

comments disabled

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

TAGLIST: @runningfrom2am @saccharinesammie @maybankslover @totalswag @madelynie @chenslucy @ietss @elle-mp3 @viawritesstuff @wallsdreams @tahliac11 @sadfury @newsies-pape-girl @jamesbuckybarneswify @xxxlaura @f4ll-for-you @ennycutie

(If you want to be added, check out the 'join my taglist' post on top! + send in requests if you have any, but please read the 'requests' post first!)

[rollingsins]

three's a crowd, part seven

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten (epilogue)

summary: you hadn’t expected this. to fall in love. with not one girl, but two. you hadn’t expected to ruin their friendship. love triangle au. 

pairing: emma myers x reader, jenna ortega x reader

warnings: language, angst.

word count: 3k

a/n: couple more chapters to go, and then we're finito. Love hearing your thoughts, as always, don't be afraid to hit that ask box!

The rest of the week passes by in a blur. 

You cry yourself to sleep the first night. 

Lay wide awake for the second. 

Memories flash by like nightmares. Emma and her sweet smile, walking you home that first night. Emma and her blue eyes, sparkling pretty as she’d kissed you. 

Her lips. Soft, so so addictive. 

Her voice, quiet. Shy. 

The feel of her under you, on top of you, near you.  

The look in her eyes when she’d realized you’d betrayed her. 

The sneer in her voice as she all but called you a whore to your face. 

The heavy finality in her voice as she’d told you she was done with you. 

It’s too much. You feel it all too much. 

Anger, at yourself. Hatred, towards yourself. 

Grief, loss, hurt, despair. Everything. 

So you lock yourself away like a hermit. Your apartment is your shell. You don’t have to film, thank god, so you don’t leave. Spend hours toiling in bed, staring at the ceiling. Taking long, hot showers. So hot the water scalds your skin. 

It feels good to hurt. 

It feels cathartic, like the physical pain will take you away from the grief swirling in your chest, if only for a moment. 

Georgie calls but you don’t answer. Joy calls but you hit decline. Hunter calls and you laugh. 

By the third day, people are knocking at your door, shouting at you to come out. 

Not Emma, not Johnna and not Jenna. 

But everyone else. 

You don’t care. Let them stand out in the hall shouting. 

You just want to leave this set and these people. You want to never see any of them again. 

Maybe Georgie. Definitely Georgie. 

But everybody else? You’ll pass. 

Definitely not Emma. Definitely not Johnna. 

It hurts to think about Jenna so you don’t. Let yourself stew in your own self-hatred instead. 

Maybe you’ll become a painter, you muse, laying in your bathtub, fully clothed, the fourth night. Tortured artist sounded like a fun gig, you were already half-way there. You’d buy a house in the middle of nowhere and never look at any girl twice again. It was better that way. 

It would hurt less. 

You let yourself imagine for a moment. And then the buzz of your phone jolts you back to reality. 

You almost hit decline straight away. No doubt it’s Georgie again, despite your explicit message you didn’t want to talk. 

Your fingers hover over the phone as you read the caller name. Your heart seizes. Anxiety washes through your body. 

It’s Jenna. 

She hadn’t called, not yet. Not texts, no voicemails. 

You don’t even know if she knows. But she must, why else would she call you? 

You bite your lip, then accept the call. 

“Hello?”

“YN,” Her voice is low. She sounds a little surprised, like she didn’t expect you to answer. You feel yourself start to sweat, grip the edges of the tub, “I’d ask how you are but-”

“You know then.” You say. 

She pauses. 

“Georgie told me.” 

That two-faced little weasel. 

“-Don’t be mad at him,” She says, hurriedly, as if she can read your mind, “He’s really worried about you, he says you won’t answer your phone. It’s the only reason he told me.” 

You bite your lip, vitriol at him softening. 

“Does everybody know then?” You ask, though you already know the answer. 

The slew of missed calls and cast members trying bang down your door tells you the answer. 

“They’re worried about you,” Jenna says, “We’re all worried about you.” 

“Even her?” You say after a long moment. 

Jenna pauses. 

“Especially her.” 

“She hasn’t even bothered to call,” You bite back. 

Jenna says, “She’s afraid that if she calls you-“

“I’ll what?” you ask, “Throw myself off the balcony or something?” 

Jenna pauses. 

“She just doesn’t want to upset you anymore” 

You pause, mind reeling, for Jenna to know this she’d have to have spoken to Emma. There’s a thought, niggling deep in your stomach. It gnaws, you want answers. 

“What did you say to her?” You ask, brows furrowed, “When we came around on Saturday. She was fine and then you spoke to her.” 

Jenna pauses. 

“I don’t…” She trails off. 

“Did you ask her to break up with me?” You ask, desperately. You want to understand. You need to understand. 

“No,” Is all she says. 

She doesn’t bother to elaborate. It makes you furious. A tired kind of furious. A silent kind of furious. The taste in your mouth is sour and you don’t want to talk to her anymore. 

Not if she won’t be honest with you. 

“Well, this has been fun,” You say, “Good chat. Thanks for checking in or whatever-“ 

“YN-“ Jenna says, voice sharp. She wants to say something, you can tell by her tone. 

You wait a moment. 

But she doesn’t speak. The only sound is the hum of your refrigerator and her sharp intake of breath. 

“Goodbye, Jenna.” You say, and hang up the phone. 

-

On the fifth day, Georgie breaks the door down. 

Literally. 

“Sorry,” He says, a little out of breath as you stare at him from your spot on the sofa, “Just needed to check you were still alive.”

He hugs you. Tight. So tight you find it hard to breathe. 

Then, he settles in beside you. Close, like he’s scared you’ll run away. 

“We’ve missed you on set,” He says. 

You cross your arms, “I wasn’t on the call sheet,” You say, “It’s my week off.”

Georgie hums. 

“You could have answered your phone,” He says, “Everyone’s worried.” 

“So I’ve heard.” You grumble. You sink back into the sofa, “What about Johnna? I bet she’s doing somersaults.”

“Everyone.” He insists. He squeezes your hand, “It’s a shitty, complicated situation, but no one wants you to not be okay. Even Johnna.” 

You hum. 

And don’t believe him. 

You don’t know what Johnna knows about your relationship with Emma, but it isn’t hard to imagine she’s thrilled with the lack of competition. Emma all to herself.

Is Emma with her now? Is Johnna holding her while she cries, soothing her upset with kisses? Kisses that should have been yours. Or maybe Emma’s not upset at all. Maybe she’s perfectly happy, fucking Johnna the way she used to fuck you. 

You imagine them entwined, Emma kissing her so softly. 

You sink back into the sofa, a wave of sickness flooding through you.  

Georgie cuts into your internal crisis with a squeeze of your shoulder. 

“Jenna told me she called you yesterday,” Georgie says, voice quiet, “She said you weren’t doing good.” 

“So you decided to break my door?” You ask, gesturing madly to the wreck on the floor. 

“It’ll teach you to answer your phone,” Georgie says with a shrug, “So how are you doing? Really?”

“Peachy.” You mumble. 

Georgie raises an eyebrow. 

“You know you’re shooting Friday, right?” He asks, “I checked. And we’ll all be there.”

You’d forgotten about that. The thought of walking on set with everybody knowing exactly what’s happened makes you want to sink into the sofa and never come out. 

Georgie rubs your back. 

“Everyone’s worried,” He repeats, “And we’re all here for you. You don’t have anything to be nervous about.” 

But you are nervous. 

You’re nervous when you go to sleep that night. 

You’re nervous the next day, and the day after.  

And when Friday rolls around, you’re so anxious you’re considering quitting the production all together. 

Being sued for breach of contract sounds a lot better than having to look Emma in the eye and pretend to be her love interest for eight hours. 

Emma isn’t there when you finally muster the strength to show up. 

You’re early - it’s all crew members and extras. And Joy - who you forgot has the habit of showing up thirty minutes early for everything. 

She hasn’t really spoken much to you, since the entire blow-out with Jenna and Emma went down. 

It’s understandable - you hate you too, why wouldn’t everyone else? 

But she doesn’t look like she hates you when she approaches. 

Her look is softer. Reserved. Pitying. 

You’d prefer the hatred. 

“Emma told us about everything,” She says. She rubs your arm, “I hope you’re doing okay. Everyone’s been worried about you.” 

“So I keep hearing,” You mumble. 

She pauses. Surveys you. 

“I know you don’t care what I think,” She says, voice a little hesitant, “And you shouldn’t. It’s none of my business. But your heart wasn’t in it. We could all tell.” 

You’re right, it’s not your business, you want to snap back. 

You refrain. This day is going to be hard enough and the last thing you need is more enemies on this set. 

“Sure,” You offer, a little lame. Joy squeezes your arm. 

-

The rest of the cast filter in one by one. 

Hunter hugs you. Georgie brings you a coffee and sits with you while the crew set up. 

He mumbles something, standing up to excuse himself after a while. You’re confused - until you see Jenna approaching. 

Damn you, Georgie, you curse internally. 

He hovers by the craft services table, peering back at you over his shoulder. 

You’d pull the finger at him if Jenna wasn’t staring down at you, body language tight. Hesitant. Like she’s not sure if she should be talking to you. 

You look up at her, watch the way she plays with her fingers. 

“How are you?” She asks.  She’s worried. You can tell by the way her eyes are flitting between yours. 

“Fine.” You say, “Ready to shoot.” 

Jenna stares for a moment. Then lowers her voice. 

“You can talk to me, you know,” Jenna says, voice soft, “I care about you, still. If you’re not doing well-”

“What did you say to Emma?” You ask, unable to keep it in any longer, “On the balcony? I know you said you didn’t ask her to break up with me but you must have said something for her to do it.” 

She blinks. Her shoulders tense. 

“I didn’t say anything bad,” Is all she offers, “I didn’t ask her to break up with you, I already told you-“ 

“But what did you say?” You ask, voice a little desperate. You need to know. It’s eating you alive. Emma had been fine. Happy, even. Soft, almost romantic with you. 

And then one conversation and she’d frozen over. 

“Nothing bad.” She repeats, her voice soft. 

She isn’t going to tell you, that much is clear. It pisses you off in a way that is maybe a little unfair. She doesn’t owe you anything, sure. Their conversation was private. 

But it was clearly about you. 

You look down at your phone, put your headphones back in. 

“I’m fine, you don’t have to keep checking,” You say. There’s a bite in your voice that makes her flinch, “Let’s not make this any more awkward than it already is.” 

-

Emma arrives a little later. 

You’re able to avoid her for most of the morning. Ducking out to the bathroom when it’s not your time to shoot. Clinging to Georgie like a shield whenever she gets a little too close. 

This afternoon, you’ll have to shoot with her. You’ve been dreading it all day. 

Your scenes with her are supposed to be romantic. But you can’t even look at her without your chest seizing and your palms getting sweaty. 

Like the world is playing some sort of sick joke on you. Karma, perhaps.

“Just talk to her and get it over with.” Georgie tells you all day, but you don’t listen.

You let it fester. This awkward, uncomfortable feeling that rots in you. 

In the end, it’s her who approaches first. 

You’re sitting out on the lawn by yourself, earphones in. Trying to drown your sorrows in angsty 80s music with your eyes closed. 

The world shut off. 

And then you feel her squeeze in next to you. 

You open your eyes, heartbeat quickening. She doesn’t say anything for a moment, just watches as you tug out your earphones, mouth dry. 

“Hey,” She says, settling into the spot beside you, “How are you?”

The audacity of the question almost makes you laugh. 

“How do you think I am?” You say. It comes out grouchier than you intended. You curl your arms around your knees, “I’m sad.” 

She hums. 

Leans back into her hands. She looks out into the distance, to where a crew member is wheeling a tub of fake blood onto set. Another person lifts a giant gargoyle onto a crane. An extra with a fake axe through their head passes by. 

Set is bizarre, and somehow it fits your depressive mood.  

“You’re not sad because I broke up with you,” Emma says, peering over at you. She lifts a hand to her eye to block out the sun. 

You stare. 

“Yes, I am.” 

She shakes her head. 

“You’ve been sad for a while. And it doesn’t have much to do with me.” 

It’s coming, you can feel it. The “J” word. You hug your knees, hoping if you look too distraught, she’ll fly past it. 

It doesn’t work. 

“You’re sad because you’re not with Jenna.” 

You let out a sharp intake of breath. You can’t even think about Jenna right now. You don’t want to think about her. About what could have been. 

“We would have been so in love,” She’d murmured, ghost of a smile on her lips. 

It makes you ache. 

You'd given it all away to someone who didn't even want you anymore.

Karma, sings out that little voice in your head, again.

You swallow.

“We don’t have to talk about her.” You say, sitting up properly. You fiddle with the cord of your earphones. You want this conversation to be over. 

“It’s fine, YN.” Emma says, “I’m not mad anymore. Or upset. Or jealous.” 

She nudges your arm, glint of a smile on her lips. 

“Not like before.” 

“Because you don’t want me anymore?” You say, eyebrows furrowed. 

She looks away. 

“I did want you, you know that.” 

“But not anymore?” You press. 

She’s quiet for a moment.  

“I want someone who wants me back,” She says, simply, “Someone who isn’t confused. Someone who doesn’t like someone else.” 

“-Someone like Johnna.” You say, voice flat. 

She shoots you a pained smile. 

“Don’t be jealous.” She says, “You don’t want me, not really. You liked being liked, that’s all.” 

It makes you stare.

“That’s not true,” You say, sitting up, “I did like you, Emma. I do like you. I just-“ 

“Liked her more.” Emma says, after a moment. Her gaze is pensive, “It’s okay, you can say it.” 

You drop down onto your back. Stare up at the sky. 

“You should tell her.” 

“I should tell her?” You ask, a little dubious. 

“How much you like her.” Emma says. 

The words are strange, coming from her lips. You wait a bit for the punchline. But it never comes. She’s calm. At peace. Not a hint of jealousy in her tone.  

“Too much has happened,” Is what you say after a careful moment, “If it was meant to be- it wouldn’t have been so messy.” 

Emma purses her lips. 

“It’s messy because I made it messy,” She says, quietly. 

“I made it messy.” You correct her, “You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“Except I pursued you knowing Jenna liked you.” Emma says, biting her lip, “Knowing you liked her back. I got involved because - I don’t know. I liked you so much and I thought- I don’t know what I thought.” 

You lean back. Try to gauge her face. She doesn’t look sad, not like you. She’s pensieve. Reflective. 

“Jenna’s useless at this kind of thing. I knew she’d never tell you and I used that to take you for myself.” Emma admits, “I thought she’d get over you. I thought it was a crush. If I had known-“

She trails off. Sits back on her hands.

“If you had known what?”

“You should talk to Jenna,” Emma just says, staring down at her fingers, “You should tell her how you feel about her.” 

“She knows.” Is all you say. 

Emma leans back. 

“Does she?”

Her gaze is so piercing you have to look away. 

“Why are you trying to set us up anyway?” You ask, “Aren’t you supposed to hate us or something?”

Emma hums. 

“I don’t hate you,” She says, “And I don’t hate her. I was angry at her for so long. But maybe she should be angry with me too. Maybe you both should.”

You don’t know what to say so you don’t say anything. 

It’s too much. You want to go back to your hermit cave-apartment and drink yourself to sleep. These emotions you’re having, you don’t want them anymore. 

Emma curls her fingers around a strand of grass. Plucks it out of the ground, absent-mindedly. She lets out a long sigh. 

“I thought I could get between you,” She says voice heavy, “I thought I could redirect you to me. But that isn’t how it works, I know that now. When two stars collide everything around it turns to dust.”

She has a penchant for the dramatic. But you don’t bother to correct her. There’s something else on your mind. 

“What did Jenna say to you on the balcony?” You ask, eyes flitting between hers. 

She’s being so open. So candid. An Emma you almost forgot existed. If there is ever a time to get it out of her, it’s right now. 

She purses her lips and looks away. 

Your heart sinks as you realize she’s not going to give you the answers you so desperately need.

“You should ask her.”

“I already did.” You say, aggravated, “She won’t tell me.” 

“I’m sure she’ll tell you when she’s ready,” Emma says, simply. She brushes the grass off her jeans as she sits up. She holds out a hand for you. 

“Come on. I think shooting is about to start.”

You stare at her open palm. Look up at her. 

She isn’t angry, not sad or hurt. She’s your Emma again, sweet, kind, loyal. She’s the Emma you could have had, before you ruined it all. 

“I’m really sorry, Emma,” You say, voice quiet, “For everything.”

She smiles at you, curls her hand around yours. 

“Me too.”

Next part

[rollingsins]

three's a crowd, part six

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten (epilogue)

summary: you hadn’t expected this. to fall in love. with not one girl, but two. you hadn’t expected to ruin their friendship. love triangle au. 

pairing: emma myers x reader, jenna ortega x reader

warnings: language, angst, 18+, implied smut.

word count: 4k

a/n: the angst gremlin wrote this chapter again, i take no responsibility for anyone's tears.

Georgie’s with Jenna for most of the weekend. 

You ask him to keep tabs on her, check she’s okay and so he sends you regular updates. It’s not easy, he claims, trying to keep tabs on someone who wants to be left alone. 

But the last thing you want is for her to be alone right now. You ask him to persist. 

Emma’s with Johnna most of Saturday. 

You watch her Instagram stories, try not to bubble with jealousy. But by night time, she’s calling you up and asking you to come over. 

“Do you want to watch a movie?” You’re asking, takeout in hand as she lets you through the door.

“No,” Emma says, voice coy. 

She tilts her head, leans up and kisses you. 

Your eyes flutter closed. You’re not used to it yet, kissing her like this. Soft, almost sweet. No anger behind it.

It feels like it could be a new beginning. 

She pulls you by your shirt into her, sinking back down onto the couch as you climb on top of her. You thread your fingers through her blonde hair, moan slightly at the way she grips your hips pulling you down into her. 

And then your phone starts buzzing. 

“Ignore it,” Emma murmurs. Her eyes are impossibly dark, lips wet, red from kissing. You duck down and kiss her again. Arousal surges through you, settling low in your belly. 

You want her so bad. 

You tell her by kissing her feverishly. You tilt her head up to you, slipping your tongue between her lips. She groans as your hands wander. Cup her breasts through her shirt, then settle down at the edge of her shirt, trying to tug it off. 

You abandon her lips for her neck, line hot kisses at the pulse of her jawline, loving the way she responds under you. Quiet murmurs, body tilting up to you. 

And then your phone is buzzing again. 

You groan, slump down and duck your head between your neck. 

“Who the fuck is that?” You’re asking as you tilt your body over to to each for your phone. 

You’ll kill whoever it is. Maybe Hunter, trying to rope you into another game night. Definitely not Joy, whose policy lately had been the less of you the better. 

It’s Georgie, as you should have guessed. 

Four missed calls. Seven texts. You furrow your brow, wondering what on earth he could want so urgently. 

On the fifth call, you answer immediately. 

“Georgie, you better be dying-” You say. Emma squeezes your hips in the kind of way that makes you want to hang up the phone and press her down into the sofa. But Georgie’s voice is sounding before you get the chance. 

“YN, you need to come here right now,” He says. He sounds desperate. The line is a little fuzzy, like he’s moving around. Your heartbeat spikes as you remember who he’s with. 

“Is it Jenna?” You ask, sitting up. Anxiety rushes through you, “Is she okay?” 

You don’t care Emma’s sitting right next to you. A wave of sickness rolls through you as your mind runs wild with the possibilities. You imagine her, glass of whiskey in her hand, threatening to throw herself off the apartment balcony. Or worse.

“What’s wrong with Jenna?” Emma asks immediately. You climb off her, instead moving to pace, “Is she okay?” 

You press your ear a little closer to the phone. 

“Georgie, what’s going on?” 

“She’s freaking out, she’s telling me she wants to quit the show. She has her agent on the line right now.” 

“Start with that, next time Georgie,” You hiss, as relief floods through you, “I thought she was hurt.” 

“She will be hurt. A lot hurt if she goes through with it,” Georgie says, sounding panicked, “There’s no way they’ll let her out of the contract. I mean, she is the show. Netflix will sue her for all she has.”

“What’s going on?” Emma tugs at your arm, her eyes wide, “Is she okay?”

You squeeze her hand, tilt the phone away from your ear only slightly. 

“She wants to quit the show,” You tell her, “Georgie, I’m putting you on speaker.”

Emma blinks. Her hands drop. But she’s the least of your concerns right now. 

“Where is she now? Can you put her on the phone?” You ask, voice urgent. 

“She’s talking to her agent. I think it’s better if you come down here in person.” Georgie says, “She won’t listen to me, but she’ll listen to you.” 

You seriously doubt that. After all, you’re the reason she wants to quit in the first place. It doesn’t take a genius to figure that out. 

You bite your lip. 

“I’ll try, but Georgie-”

“I’ll do it,” Emma says, suddenly, “I’ll talk to her.” 

Georgie’s silence down the other line mirrors yours. Emma stands, pulling on her jacket. A spring of determination in her step. 

“Emma,” You say, treading carefully, “Is that- the best idea? You and her haven’t exactly seen eye to eye over the last few weeks.” 

An understatement. Emma’s been ignoring Jenna for weeks now. And you’re a little concerned talking with Emma will push her right over the edge. 

Emma frowns. 

“Exactly,” She says, chewing her lip, “Maybe I was too hard on her Friday. I didn’t mean to be so harsh-”

She looks genuinely distressed. You rub her arm, suddenly your fears off Emma and Jenna throwing each other off the balcony quelled. 

“I know you didn’t,” You say squeezing her hand, “Georgie, we’ll be there in five.” 

-

Jenna’s madly pacing on her balcony, phone pressed to her ear when you arrive. 

You all but knock Georgie over in your effort to get to her, Emma not far behind. And then stop in your tracks when you see the party in the living room. 

Hunter and Joy are watching Jenna pace, matching expressions of worry on their faces. You frown, blinking slightly as you see them. Joy looks over to you, matches your frown with one of her own. 

“What are you two doing here?” Joy asks, looking confused. She looks to Georgie. 

“Georgie, is having them here really the best idea?” 

“I’m not going to snap at her,” Emma says, biting her lip. She’s wringing her hands, anxiously, “I’m just going to talk. She’s quitting because of me.”

“Not just you,” Hunter says, eyeing you. 

Georgie waves his hands about. He steps between you, trying to pull you to the door. 

“It doesn’t matter why she’s quitting. What matters is getting her to stop. Go, YN.” 

But Emma stops you. You all look as she takes a deep breath. 

“No,” She says, looking determined, “It has to be me.”

-

Georgie, in all his panicked frenzy, makes several cups of coffee. He paces back and forth, prying half-full cups out of people’s hands and replacing them with new ones every few minutes, unable to keep still. 

“Georgie, relax.” You say, after your third cup, “I don’t think all this caffeine is helping anyone.” 

“If she quits it’s over,” He says, eyes flashing, “For everyone. We’ll get canceled, she’ll get sued. Blacklisted, maybe. She’ll never work in film again. And she loves working in film-”

“That’s not going to happen, Georgie.” Joy assures. She reaches out for him, tugs him into her, rubbing his back, “She’ll come to her senses. We’re all here to help her come to her senses.” 

“What do you think they’re saying?” You ask, peering out onto the balcony. 

They’ve been out there for almost twenty minutes and from what you can see, the conversation hasn’t stopped flowing. Their body language is hard to read. Jenna’s tense, Emma’s standing so far away from her they might as well be on different balconies. You squint, try to read Emma’s lips. 

“Maybe they’re working out a custody agreement,” Hunter says, voice dry, “Emma gets to fuck you on weekdays, Jenna gets the weekend.” 

“That’s not funny.” You snap. 

Georgie intervenes, “Let’s not turn on each other,” He says, holding out his hands, “We’re all here for the same reason. We care about Jenna and we don’t want her to do something stupid.” 

Hunter leans back in his seat. Settles for watching the exchange outside like it’s a show. 

“You’re right,” He says, quietly, “Sorry YN.” 

But you’re not listening to him. Emma’s leaning in a little closer, her façade softening. Jenna looks upset. They’ve locked eyes. Emma lifts her thumb to her mouth, chews on her fingernails as Jenna speaks. 

“Should we call someone?” Joy asks, “A producer or something?” 

“No,” Georgie and Hunter say in unison. Georgie clears his throat, “They’ll get all legal about it. It’s a last resort.” 

You tilt your head. Emma says something, then touches Jenna’s arm. You blink, wondering if you’ve imagined it. And then Emma’s opening the door, leaving Jenna outside on the balcony. 

She blinks at the sea of worried faces. 

“So?” Hunter asks, sitting up, “How did it go?” 

“She’s not quitting,” Emma says, simply. She reaches for her coat, “We talked it out.” 

Joy blinks. 

“And that was it? You convinced her?” 

“Yeah.” Emma says. She looks exhausted, like she’s just run a twenty-six mile marathon, “You guys can go out if you want, but I think she’d rather be left alone.”

“You go Georgie.” You suggest, “Let’s not crowd her.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice. He leaps up, hurries to the sliding door. You watch as he puts an arm around her, concern still written all over his face. 

You look up at Emma as she slides her shoes back on.  

“Are we going?” 

“You can stay if you want,” She offers but you shake your head. 

Whatever magic she’d worked on the balcony, the last thing you want is to undo it. If anything, you’d rather slip out before Jenna even knows you’re here. It’s better that way. Easier. 

“Let’s go.” 

-

You sit in the passenger seat of Emma’s car as she pulls out of the lot, squeezing your own fingers. You have questions, a lot of questions, but Emma’s mood isn't exactly forthcoming. She’s acting weird, withdrawn. She tilts her hand away from yours when you try to touch it over the console. 

So you bite your lip and hold your tongue for as long as you can. 

Which is about three and a half minutes. 

“What did you guys talk about?” You ask, unable to keep your tone casual. Uneasiness brews in your stomach. Undoubtedly, you were the subject of conversation, and you don’t like not knowing what was said. 

Emma looks pensive. Her fingers tighten on the steering wheel, “We just talked. About everything.” 

You hum. Tap your fingers against the dash. Her vague answer doing nothing to stop the rush of anxiety swelling through you. 

“Okay. Did you want to go into a little more detail?”

“Maybe later,” She says, voice clipped and you can tell that’s the end of it. 

You sit back in your seat, a little disappointed.

She’s quiet for a moment, the car silent except for the blare of the radio and the quiet hum of the engine. It’s unsettling. 

“I’m going to take you home,” She says, after a while, “We can talk tomorrow.” 

“Oh,” You say, sounding a little put out, “Okay. I just thought we were going to hang out tonight.” 

You’d picked out a film and everything. Stacked your cupboards with sour patch and toffee popcorn - her favorite snacks.

And shaved everything head to toe. This isn't how the night was supposed to go.

“I’m just not feeling up to it anymore,” She says. Her eyes are on the road and she won’t look at you. You cross your arms. Doubt seeps through your body, one little factor niggling at the pit of your stomach. 

“And are you up to seeing Johnna? That’s where you’re going, right?”

She avoids your eyes. Swallows. 

“Let’s not do this now,” She says and it all but confirms it. 

Hurt flashes through you. Your heart seizes painfully. Because of course that’s where she’s going. 

“You know I don’t mind you seeing both of us,” You say, voice tight, even though it’s a lie. You very much minded her seeing Johnna, “But to ditch me for her even though we made plans is pretty shitty.” 

Emma sighs. Her grip on the wheel is iron-tight. 

“I won’t see her then. I’ll go home,” She says, like she doesn’t want to fight about this, “Happy?” 

“Ecstatic.” You say, dead-panned. 

The radio plays some stupid pop song. It grates at your nerves, perhaps more than it should. You switch it off, wanting to stew in silence. Emma looks over at you. 

“It’s just been a long day,” She says, after a painful moment, “I have to… process.” 

“It’s fine,” You say, un-buckling your seatbelt as she pulls into the parking lot of your apartment complex, “It’s whatever.” 

And then you leave her sitting in her car. 

-

You watch the movie alone. 

Gulp down an entire pack of the sour patch kids you’d bought for Emma. But you can’t concentrate. You feel sick at the thought of Emma with Johnna. Whispering the sweet nothings that should have been yours in her ear. 

And above all else, you can’t get Jenna out of your mind. 

You contemplate calling Georgie again but it doesn't feel like enough. Keeping tabs on her from a distance seems so silly after today. You want to hear her voice, want to hear in her own words that she’s okay and she isn’t going anywhere. 

And so you pull your phone out of your pocket and dial her number before you can think too hard about it. 

At first, you think she’s going to let it ring out. Thirty seconds pass with no answer. 

But then, you hear her voice. 

“Hi.” She says. 

“Hi.” You say. 

There’s a moment of silence. You close your eyes, trying to muster the strength to talk. 

“I'm sorry about all that at the apartment,” You say, “We weren’t trying to ambush you.” 

She’s quiet for a moment. 

“It’s okay,” She says, finally, “You guys were right. I’d get sued to kingdom come.” 

It’s awkward. You don’t know what to say. You don’t want to pry into her conversation with Emma, even though it’s the thing you’re most desperate to talk about. She speaks before you can bring it up.

“You can call Georgie off, you know.” 

“Huh?” You ask, furrowing your eyebrows. 

“Georgie. You can tell him to go home. He’s been hovering all weekend like a stray dog. I know you put him up to it.” 

“Or maybe Georgie just cares about you,” You suggest. It’s not entirely a lie. 

But she sees through it. 

“I’m okay,” She says, “I’m not going to freak out again and try to quit my job. Or drive myself off a cliff or whatever it is you were worried about. But I appreciate it. I appreciate you thinking about me.” 

“Okay.” You say, a little hesitant, “I’ll call him off.” 

The line goes quiet, so quiet you think you’ve lost her. Then she says, “And I’m here for you too. When you need it. If you need it.” 

There’s something in her voice, ambiguity, like she’s trying not to let too much on. Like she knows something you don’t. 

You frown. 

“Okay?” 

“I should go,” She says, quietly, “Thanks for calling.” 

-

Emma spends Sunday with Johnna. And Monday. And Tuesday. 

You only know this because of the clipped text messages you get when you ask if she’s free. 

With Johnna, talk later xx. 

Three days in a row. 

It doesn’t take a genius to realize she’s avoiding you. Either too enraptured with her new side-piece or maybe because she’s finally had enough of you. 

It doesn't occur to you that maybe you could be the side-piece now.

To distract yourself from the burning hot jealousy that is permanently settled in your stomach, you spend your days bothering Georgie. 

“How did she seem?” You ask over a latte. The café is bustling, the sound of coffee beans grinding and punters shouting out orders does nothing to quell the anxiety in your bones. 

Georgie groans. He puts down his croissant and stares over at you. 

“She seemed fine. How many times are you going to ask?”

You hadn’t spoken to Jenna since your brief phone conversation on Saturday, but you’d spent the days after worrying about her. It wasn’t a small thing - to want to quit an entire production, and you can’t help but want to know she’s okay. In truth - when you weren’t toiling about whatever it is Emma’s doing with Johnna - your mind is on Jenna. 

“Have you spoken with her since?” You ask, chewing your lip, “I’m just worried she has no one to talk to.” 

“She’s not Nigel-no-mates,” Georgie says, taking a sip of his coffee, “She has family and friends back home. I’m sure she’s talking to them.” 

Jenna doesn’t strike you as the kind of person who talks about things like this. You know it because you’re exactly the same. 

Internalize, internalize, internalize. 

It’s not healthy. You know it by heart; it’s ripping you apart. 

“Maybe I should call her again,” You wonder aloud. Georgie gives you a look. 

“And how would Emma feel about that?” He asks, like you already know the answer. 

You shrug, look down at your open messages. 

Miss you xx

You’d sent it three hours ago. And she’d left you on read. 

“I doubt she’d care,” You say, sinking back into your seat, “She’s too busy with Johnna.” 

Georgie looks over at you from the rim of his glass. He has questions, you can see them brewing in his eyes. You drop your phone to the table, sighing. 

“She still hasn’t texted you back then?” He asks. 

“Nope.” You say. You fidget in your seat, feeling more than a little on edge. 

“I’m sure she’s just decompressing,” Georgie says, trying to be helpful, “That conversation with Jenna can’t have been easy.” 

“Maybe,” You hum, “Or maybe she’s just realized I’m not worth it after all. And Johnna’s pretty. Prettier than me-”

“No, she’s not,” Georgie says firmly, “Stop it. Emma’s goo-goo eyed for you. This Johnna thing - she’s just protecting herself.” 

You pick at your nails. 

Georgie pauses. He watches you, his words careful. 

“And if Emma is catching feelings for Johnna, maybe it wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing.” 

At this you look up. Stare at him like he’s crazy. 

“How is that not a bad thing?” You ask, voice high. 

Georgie shrugs. Bites his lip like he’s not sure if he should say. Your aggrieved stare pulls it out of him. 

“I’m just saying, maybe it’s not meant to be. Maybe you’re supposed to be with someone else.”

A lump rises in the back of your throat. A barista shouts someone’s name. Suddenly, it’s too hot in here. 

“Georgie, I don’t even want to go there-” 

“Jenna’s a professional,” Georgie cuts in before you can stop him, “She’s the hardest worker I’ve ever known. And she loves her job. But she wanted to quit. Because it was all too much. Because of you. Seeing you with Emma-”

“She wanted to quit because I made things awkward,” You say, “She wanted to quit because I made Emma hate her.” 

“Maybe,” Georgie says, smoothly. He picks up his croissant, "Or maybe not. That’s all I’m saying.” 

-

Emma finally texts you back as you’re walking home. 

Can I come by in 20?

You text her back, embarrassingly fast. Take the quickest shower of your life and wear the sluttiest outfit you can find. You're touch-starved - three days without her. You want to look so good she forgets Johnna's name. You finish up with your eyeliner, and then wait like a housewife by the front door to greet her when she finally shows up. 

She’s dressed down, no make-up. She looks beautiful, if not tired. Squeezes your hand as you let her in. If she notices the tiny mini-skirt you're wearing, she doesn't say anything.

“Do you want a drink?” You’re asking as she settles down into the sofa. You feel uneasy. She's acting weird. Distant. Like she's not really here.

She shakes her head. 

“Come over here,” She says, patting the spot next to her, “Let’s talk.” 

Suddenly, you’re filled with dread. Her knee is bobbing up and down, like she’s nervous about something. She’d rejected your kiss at the door, tilting her head so your lips hit her cheek instead.

And she’d ignored you all weekend. 

You swallow, hard. Hands fall limp to your side. The walk to the sofa feels like a death march. 

It's nothing, you try and tell yourself, she's just stressed out.

But it doesn't feel like nothing. It feels like something ominous.

You settle next to her, eyebrows furrowed. She’s avoiding your gaze, suddenly very interested in the books you have stacked on the coffee table. 

And suddenly you just know. 

“I know things have been… weird,” She starts, chewing her lip. She's blinking too much, still avoiding your eyes, “Since Saturday. No - not since Saturday. Since… since we started this.” She gestures between you. 

All you can do is stare, heart in your throat. 

You look at her hands. They’re moving far too much. Picking at her own cuticles like she doesn’t know what to do with them. 

“And I know mistakes have been made. On both our parts. And I’m sorry for that.” 

You blink a few times. Suddenly she’s looking at you, blue eyes filled with concern. Anxiety. Trepidation. 

“I didn’t think it would be this hard,” She’s saying but you can barely hear her. There’s a distant ringing in your own ears, anxiety churning deep within your stomach as your fight or flight kicks in. You can feel your own hands shaking. 

It's happening. She's finally breaking up with you.

“Love isn’t supposed to be hard,” She says, voice earnest, “It’s supposed to be easy. It’s supposed to be two people on the same level. Feeling the same vibe. Not one person in and one person out.” 

“Uh huh,” You say, voice hollow, “Except that’s not true. In all the books, in all the poems, in all the stories, it’s never easy. It’s hard and soul-crushing and worth it in the end.” 

Something awakens in you. It’s the fight taking over. You don't want this. You don't want it to end. You don't want her to be distant, or aloof and you certainly don't want her to break up with you.

Not now. Not after everything. Not after all you'd given up.

You seize her hands, eyebrows furrowed as you try to make her see. 

But she jerks back, withdrawing her hands like yours burn her. 

“That’s fiction, YN,” She says, eyes sad, “And that’s not want I want love to be. Not for me.” 

You swallow. 

“So you’re picking Johnna because it’s easy?” You ask. You can’t keep the bitterness out of your voice. Fire swells in your chest, hatred for Johnna even though it’s not her fault. Even though you’re the one who ruined it. You had Emma and you blew it. 

“This has nothing to do with Johnna,” Emma says. There’s exhaustion in her voice. She’s tired of fighting, you can hear it, “You and I - we tried and it didn’t work.” 

“But it is working,” You plead. You want to reach for her again but you know she’ll just throw you off. Break your heart into tiny, bite sized pieces, “I know we had a bumpy start, but Jenna isn’t a factor anymore. I picked you.”

Emma flinches at Jenna’s name. Your speech does nothing to settle her. If anything, it makes her eyes harden.

“You didn’t pick me,” She says, slowly, “You got stuck with me. It’s not the same thing. Your first choice bailed so you settled for your second.” 

It hurts you, somewhere deep down. You want to argue, you want to protest until you're blue in the face. But it isn't not true. She's right, even if you'll never admit it.

She watches you a moment. Her eyes a mesh of sorrow and hurt and heartbreak. Mirroring your own. 

“This is what’s best for everyone.” She concludes. Her voice is final.

You tilt your head back, try to quell the tide of tears threatening to spill. You’ll not cry in front of her. If you can control anything about this situation it’s that. You sit up slightly, take a deep breath before you look her in the eye. 

“Fine,” You say, voice shaky, betraying your emotion, “I hope you and Johnna will be very happy together.” 

“YN-” 

“I’d like you to go now,” You say, “Please.” 

She pauses, looking like she wants to say something more. But she holds in it, and that you’re grateful for.  

She stands, legs shaky as she walks to the door. It occurs to you this must be as hard for her as it is for you.

But you don’t follow. If you move, you’re not quite sure you won’t collapse to the ground. Maybe you want to collapse to the ground. Have it open up and swallow you whole. No more Emma, no more Jenna, no more pain.

Just a quick ride to nothingness.

Right now, there's nothing more appealing.

But the ground doesn't open, and you don't feel nothing. You feel everything. Sorrow, guilt, pain, dread, anxiety, hurt. It's too much. Your mind screams. Your hands shake. The lump in your throat is so big it hurts to swallow. Your eyes prick, warning you. You squeeze them shut.

One more minute, you beg them, please.

Emma's at the door. She hovers, turning around to look at you once more.  

“I’m sorry.” Is all she says. 

You clench your jaw, waiting for the door to click shut.

And when she leaves, you can’t stop the wave of tears from flooding over.

next part

[rollingsins]

three's a crowd, part four

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten (epilogue)

summary: you hadn’t expected this. to fall in love. with not one girl, but two. you hadn’t expected to ruin their friendship. love triangle au. 

pairing: emma myers x reader, jenna ortega x reader

warnings: language, a little angst, 18+ a tiny bit of smut.

word count: 4.9k

a/n: don't stone me pls.

You don’t sleep. Again. 

Jenna’s kiss. Her lips. The way she’d tasted. The way she’d begged you to come home with her. Her Whiskey covered mouth. Her hands, wild, roaming as they gripped you. 

You lay in bed, stare at the ceiling trying to will it out of your brain. 

You think of Emma. Her smile. Her sweet, good-natured disposition. The way you’re going to break her heart in two when you tell her what you’ve done. 

When the sun comes up, you’re on auto-pilot. 

You pour yourself a coffee - a large one - and sit at your kitchen table, head in your hands. 

You’re an asshole. If you’re sure of anything it’s that. 

Through all your good intentions you just can’t shake Jenna out of your brain. It’s like she’s tattooed there, ever present. Morning, noon and night. But Emma’s there too. It’s like the two of them are tugging at you, trying to pull you in either direction. Like the devil and the angel. Only they’re both angels and you’re the asshole devil who can’t decide. 

And you’re going to have to tell Emma at some point what you did last night. It will be all over your face, you know it. 

Asshole? Definitely. Cheater? Sort of. Liar? No. 

Not to her. You take another sip of your coffee hoping it will quell some of the nausea at the thought. It doesn’t. 

And then you hear a knock at the door. 

It’s Jenna. You look surprised to see her. You figured she do what she always does; drop a bomb on you and then try to pretend like it never happened the next day. You blink at her, hands fall limp at your side. You have no idea what to say. 

“Hi.” She says. She looks rough, hungover, hair a little messy. Not a shred of makeup on her face. There are a pair of dark circles under her eyes, indicating her similar lack of sleep. 

“Can I come in?” 

She notices as you hesitate. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to kiss you again.” 

Your stomach flips with something - maybe disappointment. 

Asshole, you curse yourself. 

You let her in, hover awkwardly in the hallway, door still half open. You’d offer her a drink - but you’ve suddenly forgotten how to speak. She looks beautiful - even like this, dressed in last night’s clothes. Her lips, red, still swollen from yours. Your eyes dip down to them before you can help yourself. 

“I’m… sorry,” She says, unaware of the effect she’s having on you, “For my behavior last night. I was really drunk.”

It draws you out of your reverie. Last night. Walking Emma home. Kissing Jenna in the parking lot. Your stomach churns with guilt. 

“We both were.” You say, chewing your lip. It feels unfair for her to take the blame, “You don’t have to apologize-”

“I do.” She says, “I wasn’t thinking. It always happens when I drink. I should stop doing that.” 

She trails off. Avoids your eyes. 

“Do you want to sit down?” You offer, but she shakes her head. Leans slightly more towards the open door like it’s her escape plan. 

“No. This will be quick.” 

Ouch. 

It’s not hard to tell where she’s going with this. She’s about to break up your non-existent situationship again. You lean slightly against the wall, brace yourself for the blow. 

“We shouldn’t see each other anymore.” She says, “It’s too hard. For me.” 

It’s hard for you too. It’s hard in the kind of way that makes you want to rip your own heart out of your chest. 

But you don’t want it to end. There’s a part of you that thinks this is what love should feel like.  Not the quiet pitter-patter of your heart when you’re with Emma. This painful tug of desire that only exists with you’re with Jenna. You bite your lip. 

“What if I….”  You swallow, let the thought surface, “What if I end things with Emma? What if I choose you?”

Something flickers in her eyes. Hope. Want. Sadness. It’s gone before you can properly gauge it. She shifts her weight between her feet. 

“Emma is very special to me,” She says, slowly, “She’s sweet and loving and perfect.”

She is, there’s no doubt. You lean forward slightly, try to emphasize what you’re offering. 

“But what if I pick you?” You press, insistent. 

She breaks your gaze again. Inches slightly more towards the door. She does this, runs from you when it gets too real. When she’s sober and in her own head. Before she speaks you know what her answer is. A horrible, sinking feeling rushes through you as she looks at you. Final. Like she’s made up her mind. 

“I don’t want you to do that,” Jenna says, “Please. This thing between us. I’ll get over it. But I’ll never get over breaking Emma’s heart.” 

Your lip twitches. You’d try to fight it, fight for her but you know her well enough that it would never work. Emma is special. You understand why Jenna has to protect her. 

“Tell her that we kissed. Tell her it was my fault. Tell her that you pulled away.” Jenna says, “And then tell her you pick her.” 

“Lie to her, you mean?” You challenge. 

Jenna blinks back at you. 

“Do what you have to do,” She says after a moment, “She’s good, YN. She’ll treat you well. She’s better than-” 

She doesn’t finish. Swallows, hard. 

“What about what I want?” You ask, voice a little desperate. Like it’s your last chance to change her mind. 

She looks at you piercingly, “You don’t know what you want.” 

“Maybe I do.” 

“Maybe isn’t good enough,” Jenna says, “I’m not going to ruin everything for maybe.” 

Silence fills the room. You wish you could be sure. But one is never present without the other. Even now Emma niggles at the back of your mind. 

I’m still here, she reminds you, you told me it was only me.  

But then you look at Jenna.

“I’ll see you at work.” She says, turns slightly to leave. 

“Don’t go,” You all but beg, you grab her hand. Electricity sparks through you. She feels it too, given the way her eyes drop down to your linked hands. 

“YN-”

“We can talk it through. Talking helps. Maybe I’m not sure because we never talk. It’s all vague conversations and kissing and maybe talking will fix that.” 

Her hand tightens around yours. Dark eyes flicking between your own. There’s that look again, that look that tells you you’re going to be doing anything but talking. This time, you don’t resist. You let her surge forward, take your head between her hands. 

And then you’re kissing. 

It’s even better than last night. You’re sober now, it’s not a blur of meshed hands and clashing teeth. She pushes you back until you’re pressed up against the wall of the hallway. She’s strong considering she’s so small. You grunt as your back hits the wall, the noise swallowed by her mouth. Her lips, insistent as they move against yours. Her tongue determined as it slips between your lips. 

You tug at her hips, bring her closer. 

Red flushes through your body. It hits the tips of your ears, the rounds of your cheeks. 

Warm. Warm. Warm. 

There’s so much desire in you you feel like you might combust. She feels it too. You can tell by the way she’s kissing you. Hot. Hard. Fast. Like if she slows down she’ll implode. 

You feel her hands dip down to grab at your waist. You moan, suck at her bottom lip as her fingers brush the bare skin between your shirt and your jeans. 

God, you want her. More than you’ve ever wanted anything before. 

You’re one more kiss between pulling her into the bedroom and letting her have her way with you before you hear the press of shoes against the ground. And then a loud clatter as something hits the ground. 

The noise jump-starts your system. You break apart, all swollen lips and hooded eyes. 

There’s a pair of takeaway coffee cups on the ground, brown liquid spilling out into your welcome mat. Your gaze draws up to the owner. 

It’s Emma. 

Your heart catches in your throat. Her blue eyes are round, wide. A mix of confusion and hurt and betrayal. 

Like she’s just caught you red-handed. 

Your hands drop from Jenna’s waist quickly, like the touch is burning. 

Jenna steps back, but your focus isn’t on her. You blink back at Emma, fumbling, mind whirling for some excuse. Some lie. It doesn't come quick enough. 

“Sorry,” Emma says, finally. Her voice is shaky, her lips twitch, “Don’t let me interrupt.” 

And then she turns on her heel and walks out. 

Your heart thumps in your chest. 

Dread, fear, guilt all flush through you at once. The emotions catch in your throat with a lump, making it hard to breathe. Your vision blurs, only slightly. And then your words catch up with your feet. 

“Shit.” You say, detangling yourself completely from Jenna, “Shit, Emma - wait-”

You leave Jenna standing limp-handed in the hallway of your apartment, heart thudding as you run down through the apartment complex, trying to catch a flash of blonde hair. 

Emma’s quick, quicker than you as she ducks down the staircase and to the parking lot, hurrying to her car. You run, no thought in your head but ‘fuck’. 

When you finally catch her she’s climbing into the driver’s seat of her car. 

“Emma, wait.” You’re out of breath as you catch up with her, grip the car door so she can’t close it. She looks up at you, glassy-eyed. Like she might cry. But not out of sadness. She looks mad, furious, as she stares back at you. 

“Emma. It isn’t what it-”

It dies in your throat. It’s exactly what it looks like. 

She takes your silence as confirmation. You’ve never seen her angry before. But now it terrifies you. It’s not a violent anger. It’s quiet. Bubbling under the surface. She grips the steering wheel, hard. 

“It’s fine.” She says, voice low. There’s that quiet fury again, “You were confused. You made your choice. You could have told me you made your choice but it’s fine. I hope you’ll be happy together.”

She tries to pry the door closed but you hold it firm. 

“I haven’t made any choice, please can you just get out of the car?” You beg, “It was just kissing. That’s all.” 

“Just kissing?” She says, mouth agape. Her eyes are crazed, furious, “Just kissing?” 

“I’m sorry. But we said - remember - we said we were non-exclusive-” 

“You said. You said you wanted to be non-exclusive. Why? So you can have us both? Spend the night holding my hand and the mornings making out with her in the middle of the hallway?” 

“It isn’t like that,” You say, “I promise, it just happened.” 

“How many times?” She asks, voice cracking. She looks between your eyes searching, “How many times has it just happened?”

Your words die in your throat. 

Say once you idiot, you think, Lie. Say Once.

“Twice.” 

Realization dawns behind her eyes. You watch as the fury drains. Replaced with something else. Something worse. 

She looks hurt. 

“When?” 

“I don’t-” 

“When?” 

Your grip on the door limpens. 

“Last night. After I walked you home.” 

Her lip twitches. She swallows, sticks her keys in the ignition. Your heartbeat is erratic, suddenly hyper-aware you’re doing this in a public parking lot. People are staring. Watching as you dig yourself further into your own grave. 

After a moment of still silence, she speaks. 

“I don't want to do this anymore.” Emma says. There’s no fight left in her voice, no fury. Just apathy, “We’re not together, or casual dating, or whatever it was. We’re not friends. We work together and that’s it. I don’t want to hang out with you, I don’t want to see you outside of shooting. We’re done. You can tell Jenna the same.” 

Your heart twists, but not for yourself. This is exactly what Jenna had been trying to avoid. Exactly why she’s so hot and cold with you. Emma is her friend, her best friend. And you’ve ruined everything for the two of them. 

“No,” You beg, “Fine. You don’t have to see me, but don’t punish Jenna because of something I-”

She scoffs, cuts you off before you can finish. 

“I didn’t see a gun in your hand,” She says, “I didn’t see you holding it to her head. She had you against the wall. She knew we were dating. She knew we were something.”

The anger is back. She reaches out, tugs the car door from your hand. 

“Have fun with your new girlfriend. See you at work.” 

-

Jenna’s gone by the time you make it back to the apartment. 

Your body thrums unpleasantly. You feel like you’ve just been hit by a truck. A combination of the liquor from last night, and the wild rollercoaster of feeling every possible emotion on the spectrum in the last fifteen minutes. 

You try to call Jenna but she doesn’t respond. You consider leaving her a flood of text messages begging her to call you back but you know it’s no use. 

Hot and cold, this is how Jenna operates. 

Besides, if she answered you have to tell her what Emma had said. Break the news that you were both cut off. 

You spend the rest of the day feeling sorry for yourself. 

You have to work tomorrow, you were shooting with the entire cast. You wonder if news has spread by now. Wonder how awkward and uncomfortable it will be. 

When it’s time to sleep, all you can think about is what you’ve done. 

And you spend the rest of the night tossing and turning. 

-

You look hellish the next morning. 

The circles under your eyes are more like ovals now, sunken cheeks, lips cracked from the lack of water and sleep. 

The makeup team does their best, you stew inside your trailer until it’s time to shoot. 

Avoid Georgie and Joy’s curious eyes. Stay well away from Hunter, who looks as though he might dress you down in front of the entire crew. Emma’s not due in until later, maybe the quietest relief. And so you hover by the craft services table. 

“Hey.” It’s Jenna. You blink back at her, a little surprised she’s approached you. She’d had her earphones on when you’d first arrived, avoiding your gaze by staring at her own hands. You put your plate down, stare back at her hesitantly. 

“Hey. How are you?” 

Her eyebrows knit. A stupid question, maybe. But you don’t know what else to say. 

“Not good. Emma won’t see me.” Jenna says. She looks crestfallen. Heartbroken. You want to touch her, soothe the devastation off her face but you know you’ll only make it worse. 

“I’m sorry,” You offer. It feels lame. You feel as though you’re teetering on a tightrope. The wrong sentence will send you flying off, “It’s my fault.”

“It’s my fault.” Jenna says. She fiddles with the cord of her earphones. You look over to the rest of the cast. They’re clustered together, seemingly haven’t noticed the two of you are talking. You swallow, bite your lip. 

“Are we-” You hesitate, “Are we going to talk about the kiss?” 

There’s a pause. The chatter of the crew as they set up the next scene. Jenna avoids your eyes. 

“I have to fix this with Emma,” She says, “Do you understand? I have to fix it.” 

It’s not hard to tell what she means. 

She means she won’t see you anymore. No more late night chats by the pool. No more quiet confessions in the noise of a nightclub. No more longing gazes and stolen kisses in the parking lot. 

Her fist is around your heart, squeezing until it’s in pieces. 

“I understand.” You say, voice quiet. You don’t need her to say it aloud. You don’t want her to say it aloud. Somehow that will make it worse. 

“See you around, YN.” She says. A sad smile on her face as she goes. 

And then she leaves you with a half-filled plate and a lump in your throat. 

-

Emma arrives a little later. 

She ices Jenna out. Laughs with Joy and Hunter. Ignores you. 

As expected. 

You retreat into yourself. Sit by yourself at lunch, teetering on the edge of the tent-like setup trying to stay under the radar. 

Only one more month, you think. 

One more month of filming and you’d be gone. You’d never have to see any of these people again. You’d tell your agent to have them recast you for season three. Maybe quit acting all together if this is what every set would be like. Maybe you’d buy a piece of land in Colorado and live off it for the rest of your life. 

Anything would be better than this. 

Georgie finds you in your self-indulgent spiral a little later. Sits down next to you without a word. 

Your shoulders tense. 

“How are you doing?” He asks, not unkindly. You and Georgie hadn’t spoken much. You’d decided you disliked him when you thought Jenna had a crush on him, and then avoided him out of guilt for doing the former when you’d realized the truth. 

And now, he’s going to be the one to tell you you’re an asshole to your face. It’s almost poetic. 

“Jenna told me everything.” He says, “Sorry if that’s invasive or whatever.” 

“It’s not.” You tell him. You chew your lip. 

“They’ll get over it, both of them.” He says, taking a bite of his lunch, “Keep your head down and they’ll get over it.” 

“Why are you being nice to me?” You ask, a little confused, “All I’ve done is mess them both around.” 

He looks at you. 

“Because I don’t think you did it on purpose.” He says, “Because I know what it’s like to be confused.” 

He touches your shoulder, smiles slightly. 

“You’ll be fine. Chin up.” 

He stands, brushes the crumbs off his hands and offers one to you. 

“Come on, let’s go film.”

You take it, let him help you up. Just as you’re about to follow him inside, he turns slightly. 

“Oh. Almost forgot. You should probably avoid Hunter,” Georgie says, “He’s on the warpath.”

“Great.” You say. The sinking feeling is back. The list of people you had to avoid is getting long. 

“Chin up.” Georgie reminds you with a slight smile, “He’s harmless, really.” 

-

A week passes. 

You fall into a monotonous rhythm. 

Work. Sleep. Call your family. More work. More sleep. 

You steer clear of Jenna. Give Emma so much space the director starts pulling you aside on it. It’s weird, having to film romantic scenes with Emma when you know how annoyed she is with you. She doesn’t speak to you between takes. Doesn’t speak to you at all, really. Not even a good morning. 

It’s the least you deserve. 

On Friday night, the night the cast usually all hangs out, you’re with Emma when Georgie invites you to his birthday party. 

Your first thought is Emma. You look at her briefly. She’s staring at her phone but you can tell by the way her ears prick she’s listening.  

“I don’t know, Georgie.” 

“You should go.” Emma interjects, voice curt, not looking up from her phone, “I won’t be there. Not if she’s going to be there.” 

She is Jenna. Where you’ve been punished with stony silence, Jenna has taken the brunt of the vitriol. 

“She’s not.” Georgie informs her, “Jenna’s filming. You should come. You should both come. Come on. This is stupid. Can’t we all just get along for one night? It is my birthday, after all.” 

Emma looks up at him. She blinks, then nods, only slightly. 

“Fine.” 

“So you’ll both come?” Georgie asks, lighting up slightly. 

“I’ll give it a miss.” You say, “Emma should go.” 

Then, she’s looking at you. Pensive stare on her face. 

“Don’t miss it on my account.” She says, after a moment, “After all, we’re not anything to each other, right? Why should I care if you’re there?” 

It stings slightly. 

But Georgie is staring at you, waiting for an answer and you don’t want to disappoint him. He’s maybe the only friend you have left on this set. 

“Okay.” You say, “I’ll see you tonight, Georgie.”

-

It’s only when you arrive at the party, bottle of Vodka in hand, you remember other people are going to be there. 

Emma’s already drunk, you can tell by the way she’s commandeered the speaker, blasting out K-pop and dancing on the table. 

Anxiety sparks hot in your stomach as Joy surveys you, lets you in without a word. And then Hunter rounds on you. 

“I want a word with you,” He says, liquor on his breath as he tugs you by your elbow, “What the hell is wrong with you?” 

“Hunter,” Joy says, prying you away from him, “Not now. It’s Georgie’s party.”

“One pretty girl isn’t enough for you?” Hunter sneers, ignoring her, “You had to have them both?”

“Hunter. It’s none of our business.” Joy reminds him, shoots you a kind smile. 

There’s nothing kind about the way Hunter looks at you. 

“They’re friends, you know.” He says, “They were friends. Really good friends. But they don’t talk to each other much anymore, have you noticed?”

“Hunter.” Joy warns. 

“I’m just saying.” He raises his hands, loosens his grip, “Okay, I’m done. You’re free to throw yourself at the rest of the cast. Have at it.”

“Sorry.” Joy says, a little awkward as he saunders away, almost crashing into the kitchen door, “He’s had a lot to drink.” 

“It’s fine,” You say, “Least I deserve and all.” 

Joy pauses, looks at you like there’s something more to say. 

Georgie interrupts her before she can speak. 

“You came!” He says, looking overjoyed, “Perfect! Let’s get you a drink!”

-

Four drinks in and you’re blitzed. 

You buzz, this is the most fun you’ve had all week. Georgie sticks to your side like he knows you need a chaperone. Now that Hunter’s given you the talking to he so desperately wanted to give, he’s mellowed out. Joins Emma on the table to dance. 

It’s fun. This is what you’d thought joining this cast would be like. People laughing. Smiling. Drinking. No confusion, lingering glances. Just a bunch of twenty-somethings being twenty-somethings. 

You step out onto the balcony to get some fresh air after a few hours. Your body tingles pleasantly, the alcohol all but dissipates the slump of a mood you’ve been in for the last few days. You hear the sliding door open, and look behind you to see who’s come out. 

It’s Emma. Suddenly the buzz lessens. Your heartbeat picks up. Anxiety rushing through you. But she doesn't look angry, or upset. She’s smiling. 

“Hey.” She says. 

“Hey.” You blink back at her. 

She moves a little closer, looks out over the balcony. She smells good, like lavender, what must be her eighth drink in her hand. You’re not far behind her, the world spinning so deliciously as you stare back at her. 

She lets the silence linger, lets you wonder. The quiet hum of the night contrasts to the mesh of people inside. 

“I don’t think I’m angry anymore.” She says after a moment, voice soft. 

“You’re not?” 

“Not at you.” The implication registers. You swallow. Your brain is a little foggy, too much alcohol in your system. Suddenly, you realize she’s leaning on you slightly, in a similar state. 

Butterflies flutter in your stomach at her touch. 

“It’s pretty out here.” She says, worlds away. 

She turns to you, a slight smile on her lips. 

“You’re pretty out here.”

The world spins. You don’t know what’s happening. One minute she’s touching your arm and then next she’s leaning up, taking your lips in a soft kiss. 

Your head spins. You almost drop your glass. Foggy, you kiss her back, entranced by her smell and her touch and the soft press of her lips on yours. 

And then she’s pulling away, pupils blown. 

“Want to get out of here?” 

-

There’s not much talking. 

You don’t want to talk. Don’t want to ruin whatever is happening by putting your foot in it. 

You go back to her place, managing to slip out of the party without anyone noticing. She presses you against the wall, kisses you hard, then pulls you to her bedroom. 

She presses you down against the mattress, hard. 

The kisses aren’t soft anymore. All teeth and tongue and hot wanton desire. The drink still thrums through the both of you, it’s sloppy. She pulls you out of your clothes, then you hers. 

You fuck, cum on her fingers, then her mouth. 

It’s not sweet, it’s not romantic. It’s not Emma. 

By the time it’s all over, you’re aching between your legs, and she’s brushed off all attempts to let you touch her. You’re too elated to care. You’re too drunk to care. All that matters is she’s here with you, she’s no longer icing you out. You don’t let yourself think too hard. 

So you settle down at her side, stare at the ceiling as she lays down on the pillow next to you. Entwines your fingers. 

“That was amazing.” You murmur, press a kiss to the back of her hand, “Are you going to let me do you?”

“Maybe later,” She murmurs. There’s something behind her eyes. Hesitance. Like she wants to tell you something. 

You turn, brush her hair out of her eyes. 

“What is it?” 

“I don’t know if I should tell you.” She says. She bites her lip in that way she does when she’s nervous about something. 

You frown. Mind running wild at the possibilities. 

She’s found something else, maybe. Wanted to fuck you before telling you she’s gone forever. Your heart thuds. She doesn’t leave you waiting too long. 

“I didn’t sleep with you because I wanted to sleep with you,” She says, chewing her lip. 

You blink, a little confused. 

Oh god, you think. 

What was this, then? Why were you in her bed? Why had she invited you into her bed? Was this revenge? Payback for messing with her head? 

You cross your arms a little self-conscious. She notices, touches your arm. 

“I mean, I did want to sleep with you but that isn’t why I did it. I did it because I wanted to hurt her.” 

“Oh.” 

Her being Jenna, clearly. It makes you feel weird. A little sick. You knew it was too good to be truth. You knew she forgave you too quickly. 

“Are you mad?” 

Suddenly, despite the eight or nine drinks you’ve had, you feel completely sober. 

“I don’t think I’m really in the position to be mad at you,” You say, trying to be careful with your words. You pull the sheet up over your body, trying to cover yourself. Mad isn’t the right word. You feel a little used, but maybe that’s how you deserve to feel. 

“You’re right,” She agrees, settling back onto the pillow, “You’re not.” 

SIlence fills the room. It feels awkward, all of a sudden. Jenna’s back on your mind. If Emma can forgive you, of all people, surely she could forgive Jenna. 

“So now what?” 

“Now? Nothing. We’re not dating, I told you-”

“Not with us,” You say, “With Jenna. She’s really upset that you won’t speak to her.” 

Jenna’s name draws something out of her. Nothing good. Her face hardens. She withdraws from you slightly. 

“What does she expect?” Emma says, voice a little harsh, “Would you forgive her?” 

Probably not. Your unwavering hypocrisy is showing again. 

“Blame me then.” You say, voice a little desperate, “Don’t throw away a friendship because of me. You both can go back to being best friends and I’ll go live under a bridge somewhere. Probably where I belong.” 

“I don’t need friends who go around kissing the person I’m dating. Was dating.” 

She lets it hang. You marinate in the silence, trying to find something to say on Jenna’s behalf. You know what it will look like if you push too hard. 

“Besides,” She says, a little frosty, “Shooting is almost done. And I don’t want to be around when you two get together for real.” 

“We’re not together-” You say, for what feels like the millionth time. Emma cuts you off before you can finish. 

“But you will be. It’s inevitable. Like two freight-liners on the same track or something. They’ll collide eventually. Set everything on their path on fire.” 

“That’s a little dramatic.” 

“Is it?” She asks, eyes piercing, “Because I already got burned.” 

You fall back into silence. Unsure of what to say or do. She’s in a weird mood. So unlike Emma. Vindictive, almost. You don’t pretend like you don’t deserve it, but you hate that you’ve brought it out in her. 

“It’s fine.” She says, after a long moment, “Like I said, I’m over it. We can keep seeing each other like this, if you want. No strings. No dating.” 

You blink. 

“Seriously? After everything?” 

She nods, slowly. But there’s still something behind her pretty blue eyes. Hatred, almost. You can feel it radiating off her. 

“But you tell Jenna to stay away from me. That’s the only condition. Alright?”

Instinctually you want to fight it. Want to tell her to forget you and forgive Jenna instead. But she’s made up her mind, you can see it in her eyes. The less you talk about Jenna the better.

And selfishly, you want to keep seeing Emma like this. Even if it’s just sex. 

“Alright.”

next part

[rollingsins]

three's a crowd, part three

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten (epilogue)

summary: you hadn’t expected this. to fall in love. with not one girl, but two. you hadn’t expected to ruin their friendship. love triangle au. 

pairing: emma myers x reader, jenna ortega x reader

warnings: language.

word count: 3.7k

a/n: the love triangle continues to triangle. let me know your thoughts and what you want to see next!!

It’s awkward. The set is awkward. 

Everyone can sense something is going on. Emma isn’t speaking to you. Jenna’s avoiding you. They’re both avoiding each other. You’d try and fix it if you could. But you have no idea what to do, who to turn to. The closest relationships you’d made in the short time you were on set were the very two people who’d got you in this entire mess. 

Briefly, you consider calling your Mom. But you know there’s nothing she can tell you that you don’t already know. 

You can’t have both of them, she sing-songs in your head, you have to choose. 

It’s later that morning when Jenna ducks around the catering table to stop crossing paths with you, you see red. 

You wait until she’s in her chair, script in hand before marching over to her and giving her a piece of your mind. 

“Stop avoiding me.” You tell her, “It’s childish. You’re the one who told me you liked me. You don’t get to tell me that and then ignore me for days after. I’ve done nothing wrong.”

Jenna blinks back at you. 

She swallows. 

“Alright.” She says, evenly, “That’s fair.” 

You sit down next to her, not really sure of what to say. She seems to be in a similar predicament. 

“Let’s not make things awkward.” She says, “Emma’s my friend, and so are you. I never should have said anything. We can just pretend like it never happened.” 

“Is that what you want?” You ask, “To pretend like it never happened?” 

“Yes.” She says, averting her gaze. 

You cross your arms. 

“Fine. It never happened.” 

“So we’re friends?” She says, looking at you carefully, “Only friends.”

“Only friends.” You say. Ignore the way your heart twists at the thought. 

And then you leave her sitting by herself to go shoot. Try to ignore her eyes on you, watching you go. 

Your scenes today are with Hunter, not Emma, thank god. If he can sense you want to crawl into a ball and let the earth swallow you whole, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he sits down in the chair next to you and offers you a Twizzler. He’s not hungover today, and seemingly very happy about it. Then he, not so subtly, tries to pry an answer out of you. 

“You and Jenna looked pretty cozy last night,” He says as he bites down into his candy, trying to sound non-committal, “Did something happen between you two?” 

Only friends plays through your mind. 

“No,” You lie.  

Hunter furrows his brow. 

“Huh,” He says, bites down on another twizzler, “Well, that’s good, because I think Emma really likes you.” 

The agony doesn’t let up for the rest of the day.

You have no idea what to do. There’s a part of you that wants to find Emma, kiss her, tell her you’ll never look twice at Jenna again. And then there’s a part of you that wants to find Jenna. Do the opposite. You feel awful. 

You don’t deserve either of them. 

When shooting wraps for the day, you have half a mind to go back to your apartment and wallow in your own self-loathing. Hunter has other ideas. 

“Let’s do dinner,” He says, arm around your shoulder, “Joy and I will cook. And no offense but you look like you could use a home-cooked meal.” 

He’s referring to the dark circles under your eyes from your sleepless night. 

“I don’t know.” You chew at your lip, uncertainly. 

“Come on,” He presses, “It’ll be fun. I promise.” 

What he didn't tell you, and you should have guessed it, is Emma is invited too. 

You’re halfway to Hunter’s door, bottle of wine in your hands when you see her.  

She sees you at the exact same moment. Freezes. Reluctance all over her face. You wonder briefly if she’ll bolt. 

“Hey,” You say, voice quiet. 

“Hey.” 

You swallow, not really sure what to say. 

“I’ll go if- if me being here makes you uncomfortable.”

She hesitates a moment. 

“No, it’s fine. I don’t want you to go.” 

So you don’t. 

Hunter plays the fool, dishes out the wine and leaves the two of you to talk while he no doubt goes to bother Joy in the kitchen. 

It’s silent for a while, the two of you just sitting there, sipping your wine, Frank Ocean blaring through the speakers.

You want to say something, anything, but every thought that pops into your mind will no doubt sink you deeper into your grave. The grave you dug for yourself. 

Finally, after a few painful minutes, Emma breaks the silence. 

“Are you going to like, date her?” She asks. She sounds weird, voice too high. Like she doesn’t really want to know the answer, “Jenna, that is.” 

You pause.

“I don’t think so.” 

The conversation you’d had earlier in the day flashes through your mind. It hurts you a little to say out loud. 

“But you like her?” She says, frowning slightly, as if she doesn’t see the issue, “And she likes you?” 

“I like you too.” You say, “That’s the problem.” 

She deflates a little, sags back into the couch. It isn’t the answer she’d wanted, you know that. She wants what you can’t give her. Certainty. 

“I didn’t expect this to be so complicated.” She admits, voice a little quiet. 

“Neither did I,” You say, “I’m sorry.”

You watch her a while, let the silence stew. She’s beautiful as ever, shoulder-length hair tied back behind her ears. Her pretty blue eyes missing some of their sparkle. 

“I really like you.” She says, after a while, fiddling with the rim of her wine glass. She doesn’t look at you as she says it. Like she's afraid of what you'll say back.

“I like you too.” 

At that she looks up. She bites her lip, scoots a little closer. 

“I like you, but I don’t want to be your second choice.” She says, now sounding a little more sure of herself. 

“You’re not-”

“Maybe we should just be friends,” She blurts out. You gaze at her, stare piercing. 

“Is that what you want?” You ask. This is a new record for you. Not one but two situationships ending in a matter of hours. You’re one more word from snatching the wine glass from her hands and downing it whole. 

“No.” She admits, voice soft. 

You bite your lip. Let the butterflies in the pit of your stomach fester. 

“Why don’t we- keep things casual.” You say, a little hesitant,  “See how we go, no commitments. It would take the pressure off, a little.” 

She shoots you a shrewd gaze, “Like friends with benefits?” 

“No,” You say hastily, “Like casual dating. We see each other and if you want you can see other people too-”

“-Meaning you can see Jenna whenever you want.” Emma interjects. 

“No. Nothing is going to happen between Jenna and I,” You say, “She made that very clear today. She- we both don’t want to hurt you.” 

“Too late.” She mumbles. 

It makes your heart hurt. It’s one thing to know it, another to hear it. 

“Emma-“ 

“It’s fine,” She says after a moment, “Sorry. I didn’t mean that.” 

You stare into your glass, not really sure what else to say. You’d take it back, if you could. You wish Jenna had never said anything. Kept it to herself. You were happy before, weren’t you? When it was just you and Emma and nothing else. 

No, you weren’t. It’s that little voice in the back of your head. You will it to shut up. 

“Let’s try it.” Emma says suddenly. Voice small, quiet, “Dating. Casual dating or whatever.” 

You look up, disbelief on your face. 

“Really?” 

She bites her lip. 

“Yeah. Why not? What’s the worst that could happen?” 

“Are you sure?” You stare back at her. You hadn’t expected her to say yes, the moment you’d suggested it. You weren’t even really sure what you were suggesting. What was causal dating anyway? You’d see other people. She’d see other people. The thought makes you want to sink your hand into your throat and rip your own heart out. You’re such a hypocrite.

But she’s looking back at you with shiny, determined eyes, nudges her hand ever so slightly against yours and it’s too late to back out now. 

“I’m sure.” 

-

As is now tradition, Georgie hosts the group's Friday night game session at his apartment. 

Emma’s at your side, her hands brushing yours every now and then like she wants to hold it. After the third time, you make the decision for her, link your hands together and entwine your fingers. You don’t miss the small smile that blooms on her face. 

“Are you guys a couple?” Joy asks, a few drinks in, eyes drawn to your connected hands. It’s just you, her and Emma, the others yet to arrive. Emma blushes. You purse your lips. 

“No.” You say together. Joys eyebrow quirks. 

“Oh. It’s just-“ 

“We’re seeing how things go.” Emma says, hurriedly, as if anything else will cause you to drop her hand. You rub your thumb over the back of her hand, soothingly. 

“Okay,” Joy says, as Georgie plops down into the seat next to her, “Good for you two.” 

“Good for who two?” Georgie asks, dealing out the first hand. You feel Emma shift beside you. 

“Those two. They’re seeing how things go.”  Joy says, a look on her face like she knows exactly how it’s going to go. 

Georgie looks between you, a little confused, “And what does that mean? What about Jenn-“

Joy nudges him between the ribs, hard. 

You clear your throat, “I’m going to get another drink.” You stand, drop Emma’s hand. You replace it with a soft touch to her shoulder, “Do you want another one?”  

The rest of the cast rolls in one by one. You’re fiddling with a bottle of Grey Goose when Hunter and Johnna arrive, Jenna not far behind them. 

You greet the former two with a hug, nod awkwardly at Jenna as she walks in, a little under the radar and sits next to Georgie. 

You’re friends. You agonize in the kitchen, trying to talk yourself into going back out there. You don’t want it to be so awkward. She doesn’t want it to be awkward. So stop being awkward. 

You sit down next to Emma, careful not to touch her, avoid Jenna’s eyes. Try to focus on the game. 

At first it's easy. You don't look at Jenna and she doesn't look at you. You touch Emma's hand under the table, not wanting to throw your coupling in Jenna's face. It works. It's fine.

And then Jenna has her first drink.

Whiskey and coke, a little too heavy on the whiskey.

When her glass is empty, she's gone from not looking at you at all to staring.

She watches as you draw your cards, lift your drink to your lips. She watches as you smile at Emma. She watches as Emma touches your knee. She watches like she doesn’t care if you notice. 

She watches and drinks. Drinks and watches. Three, four, five Whiskies, she's long abandoned the coke.

After a couple of hours of feeling like you’re under a microscope, it’s your turn to watch. She stands, off to pour herself another drink. You excuse yourself quietly, tell Emma you’ll be right back. 

Jenna's had so much to drink she barely notices as you sidle in next to her, so close your shoulders almost touch. 

“Stop it.” You say, under your breath. A laugh rings out from the table, the chatter loud enough you’re satisfied they can’t hear you. 

Jenna’s quiet a moment. She doesn’t look at you. 

“Stop what?” 

“Looking at me like that.” You say. You top your glass up with coke. Hesitate, then pour a little more Vodka, god knows you need it. 

“I’m not looking at you like anything.” 

“Yes you are,” You say, “We talked about this. We’re friends, remember?” 

“Friends can look at each other.” 

“Not like that.” 

“You’re still dating her then.” 

You feel like you have whiplash. Only yesterday you’d agreed to never speak about what happened at the club. She’d insisted you were friends, nothing more. 

“That’s not really any of your business.” You say. It comes out a little harsher than you intended. You pause, rephrase, “I just mean you and I agreed to only be friends.” 

“We did.” She says, voice clipped. 

“So stop looking at me like that.” 

She doesn’t, not for the rest of the night. Mournful, wide, brown eyes. Full of sorrow, longing, want. It gets worse the more she drinks. For an actor, she’s not great at hiding her emotions. You don’t know how you didn’t see it before. Since the day you met, she’s looked at you like this.

You grip Emma’s hand under the table and pray she doesn’t see it too. 

By the time the night is over, you’re exhausted. You feel like you’ve just run a marathon. Like you’re leading some double life, with a wife, two kids and an extramarital affair on the side. 

You’re thankful when people start to filter out. 

You wave goodbye to Georgie, walk Emma back to her apartment, only two doors down. You’re holding hands again, trying to brush off the night. Feeling a little like a middle-schooler by the way the touch of her hand in your own makes your heart flutter. 

“Tonight was fun.” Emma says as you stop outside her door. Illuminated under the light of the complex, her eyes sparkle a pretty blue. She’s looking at you, coy, chewing at her own lip, a little shy. 

“It was,” You say, though it’s only half-true. 

The drinking was fun. The games were fun. Holding Emma’s hand is fun. 

The tide-wave of confliction in you at Jenna’s wanton looks is not so much. 

She doesn’t seem to notice your slight reservation. She’s tilting her head up to kiss your cheek. Her lips are soft, a little unsure. She blushes as she retracts. 

“See you tomorrow?” She asks, a little hopeful. 

You smile, “See you tomorrow.” 

The smile is gone the moment she shuts the door. You slip your hands into your pockets, the quiet hum of the night reverberating in your brain. You can’t do this every Friday night. Heck, you can’t do this any night. Hold Emma’s hand, walk her home, kiss her goodnight all the while your brain is afire with thoughts of another woman. Her best friend.  

You’ll withdraw from her, you reason with a heavy heart. You’ll avoid Jenna, give you both time to get over each other. And then, when this infatuation, this crush was over, you’d be too enraptured with Emma to think twice. 

It’s a decent plan, maybe the best you’ve come up with so far. You let your brain trick itself into thinking it will ever work. 

And then, you round the corner just as Jenna steps out of Georgie’s apartment. 

Great. 

She stumbles slightly, more than a little drunk, all but slams the door in her wake. 

You freeze, hoping she won’t see you. You don’t want to be alone with her, you don’t trust yourself to be alone with her. And she’s had a lot of Whiskey. Maybe she’ll breeze right past. Maybe her mind is playing similar tricks on her. 

No such luck. She spots you almost immediately. Tugs her purse higher around her shoulder. 

“I’m not following you,” She says as if that's what you're about to accuse her of, “I’m going this way too.” 

“I didn’t think you were.” You say. You contemplate turning back around, knocking on Emma’s door and asking for a nightcap. This seems like trouble. Something in you resists. You watch as she turns to the staircase and grasps at the railing. She wobbles slightly, unsteady. 

 “Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine.” She says. You knew she was going too hard on the whiskey. You should have stopped her. You inch forward, press your hands to her back so she doesn’t slip. She jerks you off. 

“I don’t need help.” 

It stings a little. You retract your hands, swallowing. You don’t know what you’ve done to make her so mad at you. Except… everything. 

“Clearly.” 

She barely manages the stairs alone. You follow, not too far behind, not wanting her own stubbornness to result in her falling face first and breaking her neck. 

When she’s conquered the last of the stairs, she blinks up at the sky. Hovers, head tilted, swaying slightly on the spot. You peer up too, wonder what she’s looking at. The stars are out of focus, blurry. You blink, suddenly aware you may be just as inebriated as her. 

“Do you want me to walk you home?” You ask, before you can stop yourself. 

It’s not romantic, you tell yourself. Friends walk each other home all the time. You just wanted to make sure she got home safe, is all. A staircase is one thing, but Jenna lives a few blocks down from here. Anything could happen to her in this state. 

You stand in front of her, watch as she redirects her focus from the sky. Your stomach does somersaults as her dark eyes lock onto yours. 

“Where’s Emma?” 

“I walked her home,” You say. 

“Oh.” Jenna says, frowning a little, “You didn’t want to stay the night?” 

Your cheeks flame. 

“No,” You say. You don’t elaborate, not wanting to go there. 

She tilts her head, swaying again on the spot. She inches forward, perhaps more than she means to. Your shoulders brush. 

“So you haven’t slept with her yet?” She asks, voice low. 

You’d only kissed Emma, once, but Jenna doesn’t know that. Her eyes are flitting between your own, wide, curious, the whiskey in her system drowning her filter. 

“Jesus, Jenna-“

“Sorry.” She says, though she doesn’t sound it, “Was that inappropriate?” 

“Just a little.” 

You should leave. The stars, the whiskey, the look in Jenna’s eyes. Her questions betraying her intentions. It’s too much. It’s not friendship. 

And you’d promised Emma-

“I’m glad you haven’t.” Jenna draws you back to her, voice barely above a whisper, “I’m glad you haven’t slept with her.” 

Her lips are wet. Plump, red. So kissable. You can’t help but look. She darts her tongue out, like she wants to keep your attention there. She’s so close now, you can feel the warmth from her body. You can smell the spice of her perfume. Apple, cinnamon, vanilla. You’re close enough to count the freckles dotted across her nose. 

Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me, her body language screams. 

There’s a lump in your throat. You swallow once to get rid of it. It’s still there. This time it’s you who bites your lip. Watch as her eyes draw down to follow the movement. 

Stop it, you think, remember Emma.  

Emma and her shy smile. Emma and her pretty blue eyes. Emma and her jasmine-scented perfume, her blonde hair. 

Emma. Emma. Emma. 

You clear your throat. Try and snap yourself out of the Jenna-induced trance she’s put you in.

“Jenna. We’re friends. Friends don’t care about who’s dating who or who’s slept with who-“ 

“I don’t want to be friends.” She whispers. She’s given up all pretense of looking into your eyes. Her gaze is on your mouth, “You don’t want it either. I can see it. I can tell.” 

It’s the whiskey talking, you tell yourself. It has a grip on her. It has a grip on you, too. When the night’s over and it’s morning, she’ll go back to ignoring you and you’ll go back to wanting Emma. You try to tell her so. 

“We agreed-“ 

But she doesn't let you finish. 

One minute she’s staring at your lips, hungry look in her eyes. Like she’s starved, and the only thing that’ll satiate her is you. The next, there's a warm press against your mouth as her lips find yours.

Your eyes flutter closed. Butterflies erupt deep in your stomach, like they were caged and just set free. 

Her lips are soft, so soft, and you can feel her everywhere. The touch of her skin as her arm grazes yours. Her fingertips light as they ghost on the back of your neck. Then harder as they gripping the front of your shirt, pulling you down into her. 

Stop it, screams the voice in the back of your head, push her off, tell her to go home. 

But you can’t. 

She tastes like Jameson. Kissing her sets your entire body aflame. You feel it from your fingertips to the tips of your ears, burning hot with desire. You moan, brush your nose against hers as she deepens the kiss. Greedy, swollen lips against yours, hot tongue slipping into your mouth. 

Her kisses are nothing like Emma’s. Emma is all gentle, timid lips. The slight touch of a hand. Jenna kisses you like she’s sure. She pulls you into her, a little rough. She’s fierce, hard. She kisses you like she wants you desperately. You kiss her back like you want her just as bad. You do want her just as bad.

Emma’s face blurs to the back of your mind, Jenna's lips the only thing you're thinking of. 

You grip her hips, tug her to you. Cup her face and kiss her until your lips hurt and your brain goes foggy from the lack of oxygen.

Not moments later she’s pulling away.

You blink her back into view. Her eyes are closed, her lips red and swollen from yours. You brush her dark hair out of her face, press your noses together. Your heartbeat steadies. 

The parking lot light flickers, and you remember where you are. 

Reality comes crashing in. You swallow, retract slightly from her as you glance up to Emma’s apartment. Wonder if she can see you doing exactly what you said you wouldn’t. 

Jenna doesn’t let you go far. Her hands around your biceps, trying to keep you close. 

“Come home with me.” She murmurs. Her eyes are impossibly dark, so longing as she stares up into yours. 

You want to, so badly. But you can smell the booze on her breath. On yours too. And then you think of Emma. 

You retract slightly, voice low. 

“I can’t.” 

“Please. I want to take you home with me.” She begs. Her pupils are so wide you can’t even see the pretty brown of her chocolate-eske irises anymore. 

“I can’t. Emma.” Is all you say, pleading, like you’re begging her to understand. 

It jump-starts something in her. The humanity is back, the lust-crazed fog that had taken over lifting. Something shifts in her expression. Her pupils adjust, and she withdraws her vice-like grip on you. 

“Right.” She says, “Emma.” 

She shuffles back away from you, almost falling. You reach out for her, not wanting her to hit the pavement but she brushes you off. Not moments ago you were as close to her as you’d ever been. Now, it’s like your touch scalds her. 

“I’m sorry.” She says, and she sounds like she means it. She hangs a moment, like she wants to say something more. Her words fail her, “I’ve got to go.” 

And then she leaves you standing there in the parking lot alone, Emma on your mind and the ghost of Jenna's kiss on your lips.

Next part

[rollingsins]

three's a crowd, part nine

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten (epilogue)

summary: you hadn’t expected this. to fall in love. with not one girl, but two. you hadn’t expected to ruin their friendship. love triangle au. 

pairing: jenna ortega x reader

warnings: smut, smut and more smut. you have been warned.

word count: 2.9k

a/n: it's horny hour. and you're all invited.

Getting from Emma’s apartment back to Jenna’s is maybe the fastest you’ve ever moved in your life. 

You stumble back into the party, swollen lips, dark eyes and pray no one notices the lipstick stains on Jenna’s jaw, or the fact you’re gripping onto her hand for dear life. 

Hunter, Emma and Johnna are still dancing, not a care in the world. Joy and Georgie are huddled in the kitchen, deep in conversation. 

You feel Jenna against your back, stomach coiling pleasantly as she presses you forward, eager to escape. 

And then you’re back out into the cool air of the night, giggling slightly in your drunken, love-spun stupor as she guides you down the stairs, hand on your hip. 

The apartment isn’t far, maybe a fifteen minute walk or so, but Jenna has no time to waste. She calls an Uber, kisses you desperately as you wait for it. 

You make out in the back seat of the car, give the driver a real show. Jenna’s hands are everywhere and nowhere at the same time. The tops of your thighs under your skirt, the back of your neck, your face, your hips. 

You feel like you’re on fire by the time you reach her apartment; her hands haven’t left your body, not once. She’s worked you up maybe more than humanly possible; your body thrums with desire and alcohol and the kind of want only she can satiate. 

She offers the driver a spare $50 in cash, looks almost sheepish as she climbs out of the car, you in tow. 

You loop your hands around her hips and push her back towards her front door, impatient. 

She fiddles with her keys, gets them stuck in the lock a few times. You’re pressed against her back, sucking on the nape of her neck, hands roaming. You feel feverish, desperate, like you might explode if she can’t open the door in the next minute. 

If she can’t, you’ll fuck her right here against the door, you decide, in your lust-filled haze. 

You slip your hands underneath her shirt, feel the warmth of her skin burn underneath you. 

And then the door clicks open, and she’s spinning around in your arms, taking back her place attached to your lips. 

You don’t make it far; you grip your hands under her thighs, lift her up and take her in your arms. It’s lewd, the way you’re kissing her. All lips and tongue, your moans entwining with hers and you carry her past the open door and swing it shut with your foot. 

The bedroom was your initial plan, but your grip on her lessens slightly, and she slips back down onto her feet. 

And then presses you against the wall. 

Picture frames clatter to the floor, but neither of you care. She’s pulling you out of your shirt, hungry mouth pressing kisses to every inch of your bare skin. Her hands work expertly on the zipper of your skirt, sending it careening to the floor. 

She ducks up to kiss your neck, sucks gently at your pulse point as her hands reach around to grip your ass. 

“I want you so bad,” She murmurs, “I’ve wanted you for so long.” 

“Me too,” You say, desperately. 

You pull at the buttons on her shirt, fiddling as you try to pry her out of it. She’s wearing a black bra, trimmed with red lace. Your mouth waters at the sight. You duck down to press your lips against her collarbone. She tastes so good, sweet, slightly meshed with the salt of her skin. Vanilla body wash, a crisp cinnamon perfume. 

You pry her out of her bra, not even stopping to take in the sight before you’re fusing your lips to her chest, and taking one of her nipples between your lips. 

She moans. Her head ducks back, giving you a prime view of the jugular of her neck. It’s too tempting to refuse. You suck gently at her nipple once, before releasing it to line hot kisses up her chest and dragging your teeth along her neck. 

You work your hands down, madly, trying to pry her out of her jeans. They don’t come off without a fight. You’re almost violent as you pull her out of them, desperate for this aggravating piece of material to be out of the way of what you want the most. She kicks them off her legs, and then is pressing you back up against the wall, slipping between your legs and pressing hard against your stomach. 

Her full weight against you, bare, warm skin drives you crazy. You suck down on her bottom lip, hands reaching down to remove the final piece of clothing between you. 

But she’s quicker. 

Her own hands reach down to draw her own underwear down her legs. She pulls away slightly, nudges her nose against yours. 

“Bedroom.” She says, eyes dark, foreboding, “Please.” 

You make it there, barely, a mess of entangled limbs and fused lips. She all but throws you back onto the bed, climbs on top of you, naked, primal look in her eyes. 

She’s nudging your legs apart with her thighs and settling between them like it’s where she belongs. 

She kisses you, once, a little soft, and then trails her lips down your body. 

Your chin, your neck, your collarbone. 

She licks both nipples, teases them gently with her tongue, hands smoothing up and down your thighs. You know what she’s doing; she’s getting you ready for her. Ready to take her mouth and her fingers but there’s no need. You’re already embarrassing and dangerously wet. 

You sigh, make a noise of vague impatience as she sucks dotingly. Your fingernails scratch the plains of her bare back, settle in her hair. You tug, only slightly, trying to nudge her down, trying to get her to where you want her. 

She smiles slightly and presses a final, loving kiss against the underside of your breast. 

“Impatient.” She chides, squeezing your thighs. Her stomach is flush against you. You can tell she can feel how excited you are. 

How much you want her. 

“You’re one to talk.” You say, voice a little gravelly, “I almost got fucked in the back of that Uber.” 

Her eyes, if possible, darken even more. 

They brim with desire.

“You’re just lucky I value my 4.8 user rating.” 

You’re too far gone for banter. You lean down, press your lips to hers once more. It hasn’t gotten old yet, the simple feeling of her mouth against yours. Like fireworks erupting in your chest. 

You could kiss her forever. You tangle your hands in her hair, moan into her mouth as you pull her closer. And then she’s pressing a final kiss to your lips and resuming her pilgrimage down your body. 

Her hands spread your thighs, her lips hot against your stomach. 

She kisses her way down, past your public bone and to the tops of your thighs. She kisses your inner thighs as you lean back, dipping your head back as her breath ghosts your entrance. 

Then she’s pressing her lips to your folds. 

You groan. You think she does, a little, too. 

Arousal spreads like wildfire through you. 

She kisses you once more, then deploys her tongue. She’s firm against you, taking an exploratory lick across your entrance, dousing herself in your arousal. 

She teases for a while. Her mouth on your entrance, your folds, your thighs. Dragging it out, like she knows the moment her tongue finds your clit you’ll topple over the edge. 

And you probably will. 

“You taste so good.” Jenna murmurs, lips pressed to your inner thigh, “You taste better than I imagined.” 

“You imagined how I tasted?” You ask, voice a little high. You’re not in control here, and your voice betrays you. 

She swipes her tongue down your length once more. You groan, settling back against the mattress. 

“I imagined everything.” She says, voice thick with lust, “How you tasted, how you looked, how you felt. What it would feel like to have your thighs around my head. To have you under me. On top of me. To have my fingers inside you. The way you’d moan, how wet you’d get. How you’d taste.”

You close your eyes, knit your brows as she dances the tip of her tongue around your entrance. 

“And it’s better. Everything is better. You’re perfect.”

And then she draws her tongue up and licks a hard stripe against your clit. 

You cry out, hands reaching out to grab her head. 

She draws slow circles around you clit, grip tightening on the undersides of your thighs. You tilt your hips to meet her mouth, writhe desperately underneath her. You’re close, pathetically close, and she must sense it - what little time she has left, because she fuses her lips around your clit and sucks down hard. 

You gasp, back arching. 

Your orgasm is violent. You moan, stars behind your eyes as she sucks you through it. She has you completely encased: her mouth traps you, her grip on your thighs keeps you close. 

You let out a string of breathy gasps, moaning her name as she helps you ride it out. She slows down, licking and sucking gently as you slump back into the mattress. Your chest heaves, the most pleasant sensation spreading through your chest and down to your toes. 

She presses a final kiss to your clit and then squeezes her thighs and rises up to meet your mouth. It's almost too much - the pleasure her kiss gives you coupled with the quiet thrum of your orgasm. You want her so badly you could explode.

And it's your turn. Your heart leaps at the thought.

But the moment you grip her hips, trying to tilt her over, she resists.  

Her fingers on your clit makes your heart jump. She nuzzles her nose against your cheek as her fingers dip down, teetering precariously close to your entrance. 

“It’s my turn.” You whine like a child, but her grip is firm on you. She presses a kiss to your lips, shaking her head. 

“I have to be inside you, baby, before I burst.” Is all she says, before she’s poising her index finger at your entrance and sinking knuckle deep inside you. You sigh, giving up far too easily. She kisses you again, furiously, letting not ten seconds pass before she’s adding another finger. 

Your belly coils. Her fingers inside you feel amazing. She stretches you out a little, fingers so long and sleek and perfect. 

She doesn’t give you long to think too hard. Her other hand presses against the side of your cheek, titling your mouth to meet hers. 

You sigh happily into her mouth. She kisses you gently, working up a steady pace as she thrusts her fingers into you. She’s soft at first, gentle. Getting you used to her. The longer you kiss her, the more noises you make, the stronger her thrusts get. She slips her tongue into your mouth, groaning as you tighten around her fingers. 

She works you back open. The steady drive of her fingers has you gasping. She’s a little rougher than you’d imagined her to be. Each gasp has her eager, desperate to make you cry out louder than the time before. 

It isn’t long before she’s fucking you so hard your nails are digging crescent moons into the skin of her back. She’s abandoned your lips in favor of pressing hot kisses to your neck. You wouldn’t be able to kiss her if you tried. You’re all quiet moans and breathy sighs as she hits all the right spots. 

“I’m going to cum,” You gasp, eyebrows knit as her fingers curl. 

She responds by leaning up to kiss you and brushing the pad of her thumb over your clit. She thrusts her fingers in once more before your tightening around them, letting out a long moan as you cum hard around her. 

You sigh.

Collapse backwards onto the bed, taking her with you. She kisses you lazily, fingers still locked inside you. You press your palms against the bare skin of her back, breaking the kiss to press your face against her neck. She presses a kiss to the top of your head and withdraws her fingers. 

You watch as she brings them to her own lips, sucking eagerly at the wetness encasing them. You kiss her once more, tasting yourself against her lips, and suddenly, your worn out body has come alive. 

“It’s my turn.” You insist this time. 

You steal one more kiss and then you’re flipping her onto her back, settling between her legs and ducking down to press a kiss to her chest. 

She’s looking down at you, dark eyes just as turned on as the moment you’d stepped foot inside the Uber. It makes you want to press her back into the mattress and fuck her until she can’t remember her own name. 

And so that’s what you do. 

You trail sloppy kisses down her body. You’re impatient, her slow assault has made you that way. You don’t bother teasing her, she’s already so wet she’s trickling her own arousal down her thighs, messy and sticky and so so perfect. 

You clean it up. Drag your tongue along the inside of her thighs, adoring the way her hands reach down to grip your hair. 

You don’t waste a drop. 

She’s sweet and bitter all at once, the taste makes your head spin. You lick it off her thighs and then turn your attention to where she needs you most. 

She’s swollen and wet and gorgeous. 

You could write poetry about the way she looks right now. Dark eyes wanton and desperate. Nipples pink and hard. Her pussy oozing, so ready for you. 

But you don’t have time for that. 

You need her. 

You move your mouth to her. Lick at her swollen cunt, dragging your tongue along her folds, through her wetness, up to her clit. 

The groan she lets out is music to your ears. 

You’re drunk; no longer from the alcohol, but from her. You’re messy, sloppy, tongue moving faster than your mind. Wanting to taste every inch of her. You settle on her clit. Lick her, suck her. You’d do anything to hear the way she’s signing and moaning, tugging so desperately at your hair as you work her through it. 

You reach up, teasing her entrance with your forefinger, too greedy to do only one. 

You want to be inside her. You want to go down on her. 

You want to have her on her back, on top of you. You want her to ride you, you want to ride her. You want her on her hands and knees, you want her on your face. You want everything all at once. 

You want to be encompassed by her. 

You settle for sucking desperately at her clit and sinking knuckle deep inside her. 

She groans. 

She’s so tight and warm around your fingers you almost groan too. You tilt your hand up, sink in even deeper. 

Her thighs tighten around your head. You lap at her clit, desperately, wanting to make her feel as good as she’d made you feel. 

You form a steady rhythm. You curl your fingers slightly, switching between lapping and sucking at her clit, her moans your reward. 

In a moment of clarity you wonder how you could ever think you belonged anywhere but here. Between her legs, drinking her in. Making her moan and cry and loving her exactly the way she deserves. 

This is where you’re supposed to be, you realize all at once. 

Your revelation is interrupted by a long moan and the feeling of her tightening around your fingers. 

She cums with a quiet gasp. You release her clit, wanting to look up at her. 

Her eyebrows are knit, her mouth open.

She's looks so pretty. So beautiful, coming undone for you.

Your fingers drive her through it. Working her up until she’s sighing, body slumping, feverish, her chest falling with a final exhale. 

You press a kiss to her inner thigh and slip out of her, kissing your way back up to her lips. 

Her eyes are still closed when you reach them. 

You kiss her slow, for a moment, wanting to savor the moment. Here you are, naked and entwined.

The fruits of your attraction finally ripened. 

She’s yours, you realize and your heart leaps at the thrill. 

She’s yours and you’re hers and nothing else matters. 

You settle down at her side, nuzzle your face into her neck. You can hear her heartbeat hammering wildly against her chest, press your fingers to her hip in an effort to soothe it. 

When she opens her eyes, you lean up and press the softest kiss to her lips.

“I think I’m falling in love with you too.” You say. 

Her earlier words sing like a chorus in the back of your mind. Her on the balcony, those beautiful brown eyes wide and mournful, when she’d told Emma she was falling in love with you. And you need her to hear it back. 

You need her to know the truth. 

She kisses you. 

Your mind drifts back to the party. You wonder if they’d noticed you’d left. You wonder if they’re talking, gossiping, about exactly what is happening right now. 

You and Jenna, naked and entwined, the way it was always meant to be. 

She kisses you once more, draws you back to her. 

“They’re going to be talking about us,” She says, as if she can read your mind. You close your eyes, let yourself take in your surroundings. 

Jenna’s body, warm underneath you. Your lips, swollen from her kisses, her taste still on your tongue. 

You don’t care. All that matters is right here in this room. 

“Let them talk,” You murmur, and then kiss your way back down her body once more. 

next part

[rollingsins]

three's a crowd, part five

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten (epilogue)

summary: you hadn’t expected this. to fall in love. with not one girl, but two. you hadn’t expected to ruin their friendship. love triangle au. 

pairing: emma myers x reader, jenna ortega x reader

warnings: language, angst, 18+, implied smut.

word count: 4k

a/n: it's me, the angst goblin. back to collect more tears.

You spend the rest of the week with your head down. 

Avoiding Jenna is easy - she’s avoiding you too. Ducking out when you enter a room. Headphones on, the world muted. 

The only person she’s interested in talking to is Emma. Who does nothing but freeze her out. 

You feel bad for her, you do. You’d change it if you could. But you have problems of your own. Namely - yours and Emma’s new arrangement. 

Friends with benefits would be an apt name if Emma considered you a friend. But she doesn’t. Not anymore.

You’re a booty call. A warm body. Revenge. 

It doesn’t feel good. 

“Do you want to maybe stay?” You ask, chewing your lip as Emma pulls her clothes back on. 

It’s late, near twelve, Emma’s visit unplanned. 

She’d knocked on your door and had you pressed into the mattress not thirty minutes ago. And now she’s already halfway out the door. 

“I have to shoot tomorrow,” Is all she says. You sit up, try to tug at her hand, but she’s too far out of reach. You pout, slightly.  

“My place is closer,” You reason. 

She pauses. Surveys you. 

“My moisturizer is at home.” 

“I have moisturizer.” You offer, helpfully. 

But it isn’t about that. Even you, naive idiot to a fault, can tell that. 

She smiles at you in a way that doesn’t really feel like a smile. It feels like a slap in the face. Then, she’s pulling on her shoes. 

“Bye, YN.” 

This continues for much of the week.

You’re not really sure what you expected when you agreed to this thing you have going with Emma, but it certainly wasn’t this. 

She’s holding back, taking what she wants from you but with none of the intimacy. You don’t speak much on set, you don’t speak much at all. She’s busy laughing with Hunter and Joy and Johnna and you’re an afterthought. 

The last person she calls when she wants to talk. The first person she calls when she wants to fuck. 

And it is fucking. Quick, rough, not even a kiss goodbye. 

And you can’t be mad because it’s what you had agreed on. 

“You and Emma seem to be getting on better.” Georgie says one day at lunch. It’s just you and him - Emma’s commandeered Joy and Hunter, Jenna sits by herself nowadays. Oddly enough, of all people, Georgie’s sort of become your confidant.   

At this you snort, mouth full of soup. 

He raises an eyebrow. 

“Or not?” 

“We’re friends with benefits.” You say, “Without the friend part.” 

Georgie shrugs. 

“Sounds like a good deal to me.” 

You bite your lip. Look over to where Jenna’s sitting. She looks miserable, earphones in, staring at the back of Emma’s head like if she stares hard enough Emma will come over and talk to her. 

“How’s Jenna?” 

Georgie looks away. 

“She’s… Jenna. Wants to be alone. Lost in her work or whatever.” 

You hum. Take another sip of your soup. 

Georgie leans in. 

“I thought Emma would have forgiven her by now. I mean- she won, right? She got the girl.”

He’s looking at you like he wants you to confirm it. You swallow. 

“I don’t think anyone’s the winner here.” 

Georgie looks at you piercingly. 

“Could you maybe… talk to her? Emma? It just seems so silly to fight over this. They were really good friends-”

You sigh. Drop your spoon to the bowl. Whatever you said, Emma would do the opposite. She’s punishing you too in her own weird way. But Georgie’s looking at you with puppy-dog eyes, and you can’t deny a favor to the only friend you have left. 

“I’ll try.” You say, half-heartedly. 

-

You bring it up a little later. 

Emma approaches you when shooting wraps, slings an arm over your shoulder. She kisses you and tells you to come back to her place. 

It would surprise you, except you know the show is not for you. 

Jenna’s only three feet away. Emma’s kiss is hard. She’s marking you. Like a dog pissing on it’s territory. 

You glance away and try to pretend like you don’t see the look on Jenna’s face. 

“I was thinking…” You say as you trail behind Emma into her apartment, “That maybe it’s time you made up with Jenna.” 

The entire car ride home you pondered how to bring it up. You considered trying to weave it in naturally, or even hinting. Maybe making up some bullshit story about one of your long-lost friends who you wished you’d just tried with. But Emma is no-nonsense these days. She’d see through it. 

So you take the bulldozer approach. 

Emma’s not a mean person, this you know. Surely she’s seen the way Jenna’s been acting - withdrawn, quiet, heartbroken. You watch as Emma stops and turns slightly to look at you. The look on her face is unreadable - she’s either about to break down in tears or scream at you to get out of her apartment. 

You swallow and hurry through your words, hoping you can appeal to her humanity. 

“It’s just - she’s really upset, have you noticed? Not about me. About you. She cares about you and she’s really sorry-”

Emma raises a hand, cutting you off. 

“Don’t talk to me about Jenna,” She says, voice flat, “Don’t you dare talk to me about Jenna.” 

You blink, shoulders falling limp. 

“I just-”

“I hope she’s upset,” Emma says, eyes ablaze, “She betrayed me in the worst way, do you even understand that?” 

Silence fills the room. You contemplate dropping it. You’re on thin ice as it is. But Jenna had seemed so sad today, and you can’t help but want to fix it. 

“It was my fault. Not hers. I kissed her-” 

A lie she sees through immediately. Emma tilts her head. 

“So go kiss her again. Go fuck her for all I care. Bring her up again and we’re done. Okay?” 

She throws her bag down, a little violently. Runs a hand through her blonde hair. 

“Alright.” You say, a little resigned, “I’m sorry.” 

You hadn’t expected it to work, but it feels like a loss all the same. You’ve aggravated her now, you can tell by the way she kicks off her shoes, glancing up at you like she’s not sure why she invited you. 

“Let’s make this quick.” Emma says, taking off her jacket, “I have a date tonight.” 

At this you stare. Blink back at her, wonder if you’ve misheard her. 

“A date?” You ask. You can’t keep the jealousy from seeping in your tone, “With who?”

“Johnna.” Emma shrugs, “She asked me after work.”

It stings a little. When Emma had told you no strings you hadn’t expected her to to and find a new yarn of wool to tug at. 

“But I thought we had plans.” You say, a little put out. 

She shoots you a look. 

“We’re going to fuck, that’s not having plans.” 

“So you’re going to fuck me and then go out on a date with another girl?” You say, voice a little high, “Does she know you’re sleeping with someone else before your date?” 

Emma rolls her eyes. 

“Don’t act the part of the jealous girlfriend,” She says, “You already blew that, remember?” 

Your stomach flips, and not in a good way. It’s overtaking you, confusion, jealousy, hurt. You’re starting to feel like a two-dollar hooker off a roadside. 

“Don’t you think that’s a little inconsiderate?” You say, “I don’t think Johnna would appreciate you fucking me and then sharing a bowl of Pad Thai with her-” 

“Johnna knows the situation,” Emma says, flatly, “I thought you did too. I’m not your girlfriend, I’ll go on as many dates as I want.” 

Tension fills the room. You don’t recognise her. How could this be Emma? The sweet girl with the pretty blue eyes who had blushed when you touched her hand for the first time. And now she was up for fucking two different girls in one night? 

What had you done to her? 

“Fine.” You say, swallowing. Your ears are ringing, unpleasantly,  “Have fun on your date. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

You grab your things, try to quell the tide of emotions that flush through you. 

Emma stares. Disbelief in her eyes. 

“You’re leaving?” 

“Yeah. I wouldn’t want to get in the way of you getting yourself pretty for Johnna.” You snap. Immediately you regret it. You’ve shown your hand. You’re jealous, even though you have no right to be. She doesn’t placate you. 

“Fine,” She says, voice clipped, “See you tomorrow.” 

-

They’re laughing when you get on set in the morning. 

Emma and Johnna. 

Hands touching near the make-up chairs. You watch, eyes narrowed from the craft services table. Dump far too much Mac and Cheese onto your plate. 

You barely notice as Jenna slips in beside you. 

“What’s going on there?” Jenna asks, voice casual, “I thought you two were a thing?” 

You’re not expecting her. You blink over at her, a little confused. 

“I thought we weren’t supposed to talk to each other.” You say. 

“We’re not supposed to kiss each other,” Jenna says as she pries some food onto her plate, “Talking isn’t cheating.” 

“It’s the talking that usually leads to the cheating,” You say, “Besides, Emma and I aren’t exclusive, she can talk to anyone she wants.” 

Jenna looks up at you, slight frown on her face. 

“So she is seeing Johnna?” 

You avert your gaze. This is the last person you want to have this conversation with. But Jenna doesn’t relent. 

“I’m confused.”

“You and me both,” You mutter. You reach for a rogue grape, wrestle it onto your plate, “Look, Jenna - I know we’re just talking, but if you want Emma to forgive you, maybe we shouldn’t. Like at all. I tried to bring you up yesterday and she flipped-”

“You brought me up?” Jenna asks, voice soft, “What did she say?”

“She’s pissed.” You don’t try to sugarcoat it. “At you. And at me, but mostly you.” 

Jenna’s looking at you, a little mournful. Like a wounded puppy. 

“What can I do?” She asks. Her shoulders are dropped, like she’s resigned to her fate. 

You don’t know the answer. 

You tell her so. 

Her eyes are downcast. Her lip twitches. And then she’s looking up at you, something different in her eyes. 

“Are you sleeping with her?” She asks, voice filled with curiosity. A touch of jealousy. She asks like she doesn’t want to know the answer. So you avoid the question.  

“Let’s not speak anymore.” You say, chewing your lip. You glance over at Emma. She’s smiling, laughing at something Johnna’s said. She hasn’t seen yours and Jenna’s clandestine chat, “It’s too hard.” 

It’s weighted and Jenna seems to understand the implication. It feels wrong talking to Jenna with Emma just a few feet away. But it’s also hard to speak to her and not want to push her up against the craft services table. Kiss her until you’re both out of breath. If not speaking to Jenna helped rid yourself of those thoughts you were willing to do it. For both of your sakes. 

“Okay.” Jenna says. She finishes filling her plate, hovers awkwardly, “Let’s not speak.” 

And you don’t. 

Another week passes. 

You and Georgie hang out at lunch. He distracts you with tales of his teenage years, tells you about the slew of girls he’s trying and failing to date. 

It makes you feel a little better. Like you’re not the only one stuck at a romantic crossroad. 

You and Jenna don’t speak, as you discussed. Emma and Johnna get closer. 

And you hate every second of it. 

You lay back naked in your bed one night, bedsheets pulled to your neck. Emma’s made you cum, twice, but you’re hardly satisfied. Your stomach churning and your mind running a mile a minute. She’s pulling on her jeans, and all you want is for her to stay. 

“Are you going to see Johnna?” You ask, a little hesitant. 

Emma looks over at you and pauses. 

“I’m going home.” She says, simply. She tugs on her shoes. 

You bite your lip. 

“You could stay?” You offer, “We could order food and watch bad 80s movies.” 

“YN-“ 

“Please,” You urge, “I miss you.” 

“We just spent the last hour together.” She says, voice neutral. 

You shake your head. She doesn’t understand, you miss her. The Emma who sends you stupid memes, the Emma who giggles when you tell a joke, even if it’s not funny. The Emma who had kissed you that night by the pool, who had been honest enough to tell you she’d been thinking about it for a while. 

Not this Emma. This cold, aloof, doppelganger. You don’t want her. You don’t even like her. 

“You weren’t here, even if you were.” You say, “You don’t talk to me at work, we definitely don’t talk outside of work. You won’t even kiss me while we’re…. while we’re fucking.” You swallow, trail off. “I’m starting to feel like a prostitute or something.” 

Emma crosses her arms. 

“If the shoe fits.” 

You blink back at her. It hurts, and the look in her eyes tells you she meant it to hurt. You swallow the lump in your throat, not wanting to cry in front of her. 

“When did you get so mean?” You ask, voice wavering, “When I first met you, you were this, sweet, happy girl, and now-“ 

“You fucked around with my best friend behind my back. That’s when.” Emma says, her voice flat. 

You swallow. Hold the sheets tighter to your chest. 

If this is the only way you get Emma, you don’t want her. 

“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” You say, thinking hard, “You can hate me forever, maybe I deserve it. But I don’t thinking hate-fucking me is helping either of us. I feel like shit every time you leave. And you - you just close up. It’s like you’re a different person.”

“What are you saying?” Emma says, voice low, “You want me to kiss you and be romantic with you, and let you touch me, why? So you can close your eyes and pretend I’m Jenna?” 

You stare for a moment. Your heartbeat a dull thud. Something coils in your chest, twisting your heart in pieces. 

“You should go.” You say, voice hollow. 

It must show on your face - the kind of emotion that’s toiling deep in your chest. She stares a moment, something flickering behind her eyes. 

“Beetlejuice.” She says, suddenly. She’s blinking, hands falling limp at her side, suddenly her mask is gone. 

“What?”

“We should watch Beetlejuice. And order Chinese.” 

You blink back at her, not understanding. She slips off her coat and unties her shoes. Slips under the covers with you, her arm grazing yours. 

“You’re right,” She says, suddenly. Her eyes hesitant,  “I’m being- I have been being mean. I’m sorry.”

She looks down at her hands, suddenly shy. 

“This has never happened to me before,” She admits. Her gaze is piercing, “You really hurt me and I just wanted to hurt you back. Both of you.” 

You don’t dare say a thing. It seems almost too good to be true. You don’t want to open your mouth and change her mind. 

She leans in, rests her head on your shoulder. 

“Forgive me?” She’s asking, voice small. 

“Yeah.” You say. You reach out, entwine your fingers with hers. She doesn’t pull away, “Least I can do.” 

-

Nothing changes, except everything. 

It isn’t like you can flick a switch and make Emma forgive you for everything. That, you’ve surely ruined. But she stays the entire night, lets you kiss her goodnight. Even lets you make her breakfast in the morning. 

She stops ignoring you at work, stops fucking you like she hates you. 

She even suggests going to parties together, making out on the balcony when you’re both too drunk to see straight. 

But she still disappears every now and then, sometimes for hours on end with Johnna. 

And she still won’t talk to Jenna. 

You watch it happen once more, on Friday game night. 

Hunter’s defrosted to you, a little, invites you personally. And then he rounds on Jenna. 

“Come to game night,” He insists, grabbing her hands, trying to tug her earphones out of her ears, “Please. I know you’re doing your goth-girl-introvert-method-Wednesday thing but we all miss you.” 

You look down at your phone, pretending not to listen. 

Jenna doesn’t look sure. 

“I don’t know, Hunter-” She says, voice gravelly, “I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable. I don’t want to make Emma uncomfortable.” 

“Emma said you can come,” Hunter says, eyes sparkling, “I think she’s over it, Jenna. I mean - I doubt she wants to make friendship bracelets with you anytime soon, but she can stand to be in the same room with you. That’s progress, right?” 

At this, you snap your head up. Look over to where Emma’s sitting. She’s laughing with Johnna. Jealousy coils hot through you. It’s all you can do not to roll your eyes. 

“Did she really say that?” Jenna says, chewing her lip. She can’t hide the dash of hope in her voice. 

Hunter nods, smile wide. 

And so here you all are. 

You arrive with Georgie, pour you and him a healthy helping of Rum and Coke. You have a feeling you’ll need it. 

“Cheers,” He says, knocking your glasses together. 

You bite your lip, surveying the room. 

Emma’s already here, in deep conversation with Joy. Johnna and Hunter are setting up the game table. Jenna’s already in the kitchen, pouring out her drink. She looks small by herself, a little sad. Your heart twists, painfully.  

“Do you want to see if she’s okay?” You ask, nudging Georgie, “You mind being her guy, tonight? I know Emma said she could come but-” 

You trail off, not wanting to say it aloud. Emma’s mean-spirit had dwindled, a lot, but that didn’t mean it still wasn’t there. 

Georgie looks over, sets his glass down on the table. 

“You’ll be okay?” He asks, genuine concern on his face. 

You nod. 

“I have Emma.” You say, smile tight. 

“Okay.” He says, squeezing your arm, “I’ll look after her. Promise.” 

You wait until Emma’s done with her conversation, then sidle up to her, smile on your face. 

“Hey,” You say, settling down at her side, “You look pretty, tonight.” 

She smiles, presses a kiss to your cheek, “So do you.” 

Johnna’s watching, you can feel her eyes on you. Emma takes your hand and your heart leaps. The smallest of victories. 

And then Hunter’s ushering you all to the table, ready for the first round of Cards of Humanity. At first, it’s fine. You’re careful to lead Emma to the opposite side of the table, well away from Georgie and Jenna. To your chagrin, Johnna manages to slip into the seat next to Emma. 

You play, each round stupider than the next as the group gets progressively drunker. Emma’s laughing. Jenna cracks a smile. 

And then Hunter’s wrapping up the game, insisting on a fifteen minute break while he sets up the next one. And the night goes to shit. 

It happens when you’re in the bathroom. Emma leaves her Gin unattended, too caught up in laughing with Johnna and Hunter too care. When you get back, she’s looking around the room, eyebrows furrowed. 

“You okay?” You ask, rubbing her back. Her lips purse. 

“Where’s my drink?” Emma says, a little confused. 

You glance around the room. 

“I don’t know.” 

Joy springs up like a baby-bunny. Clearly a couple of drinks deep. 

“The Gin and Tonic? Sorry, I didn’t know it was yours. I gave it to Jenna.” 

Emma falls silent. Annoyance flashes through her features. 

“It’s fine, Joy” Emma says, voice stony, “She likes taking things that don’t belong to her. Isn’t that right, Jenna? 

She says it maybe louder than she first intended. The entire room goes quiet. Jenna turns at her name, a flash of hurt flushing through her features. You look down at the table, ashen-faced. 

Emma blinks. Her own words, surprising her. 

“I’ll get you another one,” Johnna says, smoothing it over, quickly, “Hunter - how long until the next game?” 

But it’s too late. 

Emma settles into her seat, cheeks flushed red - maybe a little out of annoyance, maybe out of embarrassment. Johnna does a good job at distracting her. It gives you the chance you need to raise your eyebrows at Georgie.

Jenna’s abandoned her drink. She’s reaching for her coat, a hasty look on her face. You watch as Georgie takes her aside, tries to reason with her. And then you’re swallowing hard as he’s shrugging at you, watching as she walks out the door. 

And you can’t help yourself. 

You don’t have to murmur an excuse - Emma’s eyes aren’t on you. You drop your drink to the table, shuffle past Georgie and follow Jenna out to the door. 

“Jenna!” You call out, rushing to catch up to her, “Wait!” 

When she turns, her eyes are a little misty. She isn’t crying, not yet, but the look on her face says she might soon be. 

“She didn’t mean it.” You say, breathlessly, “She’s had a lot to drink and she’s still angry, but you shouldn’t take it personally-”

“How am I not supposed to take that personally?” Jenna snaps. You recoil, slightly. Her face is red. You’ve never seen her angry before. It takes you aback. 

“I knew I shouldn’t have come,” She says, voice hot, “I knew she wasn’t over it, what the hell does Hunter know?” 

“She needs time,” You say, “She needs space. But she’s a good person. She’ll forgive you eventually, I know she will.” 

“Yeah,” Jenna says. There’s something in her eyes. Jealousy, maybe? Disgust, definitely, “You seem to be giving her a lot of space.” 

You blink back at her. 

She swallows. Her chest heaves, and she closes her eyes. 

“Sorry. I’m not trying to- sorry.” 

“It’s fine.” You say, voice hollow, “You don’t have to apologize to me.” 

She takes a deep breath. Her movements are jerky, shaky. Maybe from the Gin she’d been gulping back earlier. You resist the urge to reach out and steady her. Touching is a no-no. You might not be Emma’s girlfriend, but that you know is against the rules of your arrangement. 

“I need her to forgive me.” Jenna says, voice wavering. Desperate, “YN-” 

“She will,” You insist, “I promise she will.” 

“How?” Jenna says, agonizingly, “I wouldn’t forgive me. I’m such a bad friend.” 

“You made a mistake, we both made a mistake,” You say, “But you’re sorry, and she’ll see that eventually. Just give her time.” 

Jenna’s eyes flicker. She looks up at you, eyes wide, vulnerable. Hazy with hurt, and booze and a little of something else. 

“If I had told you that night how I really felt - that night by the pool. Would you have picked me?” Her voice is low, quiet. 

You blink back at her, not expecting it. 

“I- I don’t-” 

“Would you have picked me?” Jenna insists, brow furrowed. She leans forward, a little. Her scent washes over you. Coconut. Vanilla. Cinnamon. Jenna. 

It goes straight to your brain. Short-circuits you in a way you only feel when she’s close. Her lips are red, chapped, only slightly. You can’t help but stare at them. 

You remember the night. Feeling weightless by the pool. Resisting Emma’s attempts to pry you into the water because Jenna wasn’t. You remember the feeling of her skin against yours. Remember the wash of jealousy that had flooded through you when you thought it was Georgie she liked. 

If you say it out loud it’s real. If you say it out loud you can’t run from it anymore. Your heart is in your throat. All you can hear is the dull sound of the music inside the apartment and your own wild heartbeat. 

“Yes.” You whisper. You don't want to hide from it anymore, “I would have picked you.” 

Jenna hums. Closes her eyes slightly, body swaying gently from the effect of the alcohol. 

Your ears ring, slightly. Devastation floods through you. 

If only she’d told you. 

If only it were different. 

Jenna opens her eyes. Offers you a sad smile. 

“We would have been so in love.” Is all she says. 

“Yeah,” You echo, voice hollow, “We would have been.”

Nothing but the sound of the night. The quiet chirp of crickets. Yours and her heartbeats, both thrumming wildly, perfectly in sync.

And then she smiles at you, once more. And leaves you standing there alone.

next part