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warlockslovetomeow · 18 days ago

Text

time flies...

when captain jenna assigns you to infiltrate an intel hub disguised as a jazz club in the N109 zone, you make one simple request to the universe: don’t let me run into my ex. that prayer goes unanswered. but others? you might just get lucky.

pairing: exbf!sylus x female reader warnings: MDNI, explicit sexual content, porn w plot, porn w feelings, exes w unresolved tension, possessive behavior / mild jealousy, loooots of banter, thigh rubbing build up, dirty talk, like filthy, bratty!mc, sylus wants you so bad, walk him like a dog sis, oral (m & f), eating from the back, fingering, unprotected sex, rough sex, mating press, cumming inside a/n: wrote this with one hand!!!!! i need this man so bad!!!!!!!! wc: 5.9k

"....located in the N109 zone. any questions?"

and then she shot you. captain jenna—your fierce and until approximately five seconds ago, loyally trusted commander—had just fired her pistol at you within point-blank range.

you swallowed the bullet lodged in your throat before responding, reaching deep within yourself to appear as neutral as possible.

"no, captain!"

damn it all. of course your previous experience in the N109 zone would put you at the top of the list for this mission. unknown to your captain though, you'd rather chew on knives than risk a chance encounter with your ex boyfriend.

but since the intel she's assigned you to look into involves a new strain of protocore tech that mimics wanderer signatures, making it nearly undetectable and dangerous for all factions, it was high priority. and unfortunately for you, the same thought was likely running through his mind.

it'd been months since your messy breakup, months since you've spoken to each other. he wouldn't dare try anything again, especially in a compromised place like a covert jazz club.

when it came to sylus, however, you knew better.

you run through the briefing details once more in your head. this intel hub operates like most others in the N109 zone: secretive and precise. a surefire way to get yourself killed in places like these is by looking confused or unsure.

your orders are to tell the bouncer you're searching for a man wearing green inside, the color being code for the information category. according to association intel, green signifies everything related to protocores. once inside, you're to head to the bar and order an emerald isle, the contents being a gin and mint martini. the mint serving as a tip-off that you're looking for fresh, new information.

from there, you're basically on your own. the guise of a jazz club is intentional, patrons are to fraternize with their drinks visible in hand, searching for people with similar colored ones. once you find someone, you relay what drink you ordered, and if they have information on such a topic, they'll take a sip from your drink.

the catch? no refills allowed. if the person has irrelevant information, you've wasted part of your opportunity.

you saunter up to the entrance of the club, your black maxi dress shaping your body perfectly and almost causing you to disappear into the low lighting, exactly as planned. if the situation were to get threatening, your dress wouldn't be a risk.

however, this mission required you to look enticing while eyes were on you. the low, fishtail back and thin straps were sure to prompt onlookers to approach you and chat. you'd keep them in line, if not with words then with your loaded gun strapped firmly to your thigh.

you smile sweetly at the bouncer, saying everything required and getting inside without breaking a sweat. the club is busy, but not overwhelmingly so. you do a full room scan and mentally note that there are around 8 people with green drinks in hand—all at different levels of fullness. after you order the emerald isle, you make your way to the floor.

time to hunt.

the moment you walked in, sylus choked on his drink.

of course you'd be the one sent here. of course the same woman who hadn’t so much as looked at him in months would stroll back into his life with a drink coded for protocore intel.

the very thing that blew everything apart.

you hadn’t changed a bit. still walked like you owned the room. still wore danger like perfume. and those straps clinging to your body? a challenge written in silk. that dress wasn’t for him, he knew that, but he couldn’t help but wonder if some part of you knew he’d be here. if some part of you wanted him to look.

hell, he was looking. couldn’t stop, actually.

he leaned back in his seat on the second-floor balcony, his eyes locked on your every move through the dim haze and low lights. moments ago, he’d been halfway through a trade with the scrawny male seated across from him. but now, the man might as well be invisible. sylus couldn’t care less about anything that didn’t involve looking at you.

he watched you flash that fake, pretty smile—the one you wore while you were on missions. no one else would know the difference. but he did.

when he saw the color of your drink, he almost laughed. no doubt you were here for information surrounding the new wanderer mimicking tech. the irony twisted like a blade between his ribs.

you hated him for hiding his connections to protocore manufacturing. said it was betrayal. said you couldn't trust someone who kept secrets like that. but you never saw the full picture. he was protecting you from yourself.

you didn’t understand, maybe you still don't, but he hadn’t been lying to hurt you. he knew what getting you involved would cost. he knew you, and the second you found out the truth about what exactly onychinus was sponsoring, it'd drag you into the depths of the mystery surrounding your aether core. he knew you wouldn't be able to stop pursuing it all, no matter what it did to you.

and now, here you were. wading waist-deep into the same fire he lost you to.

sylus clenched his jaw, his fingers tightening around his glass. he should look away. should let you do what you came here to do.

but then some lowlife in a tacky rust-colored suit slithered up to you, requesting a dance. he was too close. acted too familiar. sylus watched your smile shift into something tight and forced. the kind you used when you were baiting someone.

no.

he wasn’t going to just sit back. not when you were back in his orbit, whether you meant to be or not. and not when he still wanted you just as badly as the day you walked away.

this had to be some sort of punishment. you must’ve pissed off the universe in a past life to end up pressed against a man wearing the ugliest rust-colored suit known to mankind. he smelled like sweat masked with cheap cologne. every inch of him screamed sleaze. yet, here you were, letting him touch you. because, of course, the filthiest bastard in the room had the most valuable intel so far. and with your drink nearly empty, you couldn’t afford to cut the dance short.

his grimy left hand rested on your waist—drifting lower with each passing second—while his other clung to his green drink like he planned to propose to it before the night was over.

"...only sold to the 1%, then trickling downwards to whoever can afford those prices. say darling, you oughta come home with me tonight. there's a lot more i can tell ya, you know, in private." his voice dripped like oil, and as he leaned in to whisper the last part, his fingers slid beneath the open hem of your back.

you resisted the overwhelming urge to pull out your pistol and really show him something private.

instead, you forced a breath and put on a tight smile. a smile that was nowhere near reaching your eyes, barely a curl on your lips. then you steered him back to the reason you were even still breathing the same air. “who are they buying from? is there no logo? no trace of manufacturing?”

“not a thing,” he said, grinning like he thought he was clever. “but I did hear some old abandoned buildings around the N109 zone have been lighting up lately. enough space to test high risk tech in those.”

you could barely hold back your eye roll. the way he spoke, like you owed him something just for opening his mouth, grated on every nerve in your body. and he looked at you like he planned to collect on that imagined debt in full.

“where’s the closest one?” your tone had a sharp edge now. his fingers kept wandering, and your patience was running thin. you needed this conversation over. and this man dead.

"hmm? not far from here. i'd say about—”

he didn’t get to finish.

a tall figure stepped between you and the creep, sliding a hand onto your waist in place of the one you'd been seconds from snapping in half. you didn’t need to look. didn’t need to double check.

you could recognize sylus by touch alone.

“mind if I cut in?” he said smoothly, his voice low and razor-sharp. “this man appears to be more thirsty than classy.”

you sighed. worst timing possible.

"no, thank you. that’s the idea,” you replied coolly, but it didn’t matter.

sylus had already made his move. the shorter man stumbled back, face ghost-white, mumbling something that sounded like an apology—or maybe a prayer—before scurrying off as if sylus had just rearranged his face with a look alone.

then, he turned to you.

he didn’t speak at first, only stared. like he couldn’t breathe, like he couldn’t believe you were real. his gaze swept over you, slow and starving, as if he were trying to memorize every inch before you vanished again. not a trace of a smirk, just a man who’d been sucker punched by the sight of you.

but eventually, sylus flipped the mental switch. he stepped closer, hand outstretched, voice as smooth as sin, "this place was dangerous before you walked in. now, it doesn’t stand a chance.”

you stared at him, unblinking, letting the silence hang just long enough to make your point. the theatrics didn’t impress you, but the corner of your mouth twitched anyway, a reflex you hated. with another sigh you stepped forward, your hand sliding into his like muscle memory.

before you could get a word in, sylus reached for the drink still in your hand. his fingers brushed yours, unhurried and deliberate, as he took it from you without asking to silently relieve the burden.

his other hand found your waist and you let yours rest on his shoulders, the familiar feel of him under your fingertips sending a shiver through you.

it was dangerous how easy it was. how quickly your steps matched the rhythm. how naturally your body leaned into his, like the time apart had never happened. the jazz music swelled around you and you both moved with it like something practiced in another life.

then his mouth was near your ear, voice dipping low as the air between you tightened. “careful. you dance like someone who remembers exactly how I feel.”

“i dance like someone who can’t wait for this song to end," you shot back, your tone sharp enough to cut.

"no," he said, like he knew something you didn't. "you dance like someone pretending the space between us isn't pulling you in.”

a tense beat passed.

"poetic. a bit too drab for my taste, unfortunately."

“you used to like the way I spoke when it was your name in my mouth.” his voice danced down your spine like a dirty promise, hot enough to make your stomach twist.

you hated it. hated that he still had this hold on you. that months later, you still reacted.

you bit back, voice steady and full of edge. “and you used to listen when I said no.”

“you never said no when it was just the two of us.”

his tone was so unbothered, so undeniably sylus. you hated how your chest ached at that. you'd buried that version of you with him a long time ago. or at least you thought you had.

you glared at him, trying to telepathically communicate how badly you wanted him to burn.

the song then faded into a slower, darker tune. like even the music knew how deadly this was becoming.

you stepped back, but only a hair. not enough to give him the satisfaction. just enough to remind yourself you still could.

his gaze followed the retreat like it hurt him to let you go. “how did you find out about this hub? did you come alone?”

you didn’t answer. instead, you turned from him. a clean, intentional break. you were done letting him circle you like he still had the right.

but his fingers caught your wrist before you could fully disappear from him again, placing your hand back on his shoulder.

“an emerald isle,” he murmured. “what intel are you here for?”

you looked him dead in the eyes, annoyance painting your features. “sooo many questions. do you always get this chatty when you're trying not to look desperate?"

god, he missed you. missed when you got like this with him. he loved nothing more than when you challenged him, rough and biting.

“just concerned, sweetie. especially if what you know brought you here…" his smile curled as he spoke. "…looking like this.”

“that's too bad. you don’t get to play protective anymore. that role expired." your voice came out flat and cold, like you had rehearsed the indifference.

“mmm. but it seems your feelings for me haven’t, kitten.”

“funny. i don’t remember ever admitting I had them.”

“no? then why are your thighs tensing like they remember everything?”

your breath hitched. not loud, but enough to make you furious with yourself. heat flushed up your throat, mortification and memory colliding in the worst possible way. you hated that he noticed. hated more that he was right. that your body reacted before your mind could catch up.

you didn’t let the silence stretch. couldn’t let it stretch.

"you're in my way."

sylus tilted his head, the smirk on his lips making your blood boil. “and you’re in my thoughts. every day. every night. doesn’t feel fair, does it?”

“what’s not fair is how your ego somehow survived our breakup.” you spoke through gritted teeth, still recovering from his last blow.

“you don’t have to say it," he was grinning now—the bastard. "i can feel it.”

“what, your neediness?” you practically spit back, the tension between you thick enough to choke on.

“yours, actually. you’re shaking, kitten."

“it’s rage.”

“mmm. is that what we’re calling want these days?”

before you could fire off something scathing, sylus wrapped his fingers around your wrist again and this time he pulls. not hard, just enough to close the last of the distance. chest brushing chest, breath mingling in the small space in between your lips.

“you think I don’t know that look in your eyes? that tilt in your hips when you dance near me? you want distance, yet your body keeps inching closer," his voice was low, fever laced into every syllable. "what am I to believe?”

“i'm working, sylus. this—” you gestured between your bodies, the closeness, the feelings, all of it. “—can’t happen again."

his smirk fades, but not into hurt. into hunger. “then tell me to stop.”

you don't.

his fingers trace the underside of your jaw, measured and daring.

“say it." he murmurs. "say stop.”

but you don't. you can’t. your lips part, but not for protest. then—

“is there a problem here?” a voice cuts through from behind, snapping the spell. a man steps between you and sylus, eyes flickering between your faces. “doesn’t look like you want to be with him, sweetheart. just say the word.”

“step back,” sylus says before you can even breathe, his tone icy. possessive. “you’re in her space. that’s the problem.”

the man falters, visibly unsettled by the sharp gleam of red in sylus’ eye. “i’m sure she’d prefer someone who doesn’t drag her around the dance floor.”

sylus smirks at him, deadly calm. “she’s exactly where she wants to be.”

it seems the man recognizes onychinus' leader, because that’s all it takes. the man backs off without another word.

you let the silence settle, pulse still fluttering from both the interruption and everything before it.

“jealousy doesn’t suit you,” you tease, turning your head just enough to draw his eyes back to your mouth.

“neither does watching you pretend you don’t miss me,” he shoots back, matching your quip as he always excelled at doing.

“i don’t.”

he smirks. “liar.”

your voice sharpens. “we’re broken up, sylus. don’t you recall?”

his gaze doesn’t waver. “i remember everything. your laugh. your skin. the way you used to—”

“don’t,” you cut in, voice like a blade. “you don’t get to say those things anymore.”

he leans in anyway, close enough that you can taste the desire radiating off him.

“then stop looking at me like that.”

“like what?” you hiss.

his mouth curved with mischief and warning. “like you want me to follow you upstairs.”

you blinked, heart slamming so hard it hurt. and for one breath, you let yourself feel it, all the pain he left behind.

then you swallowed it whole, and drowned in him.

as you both slipped out of sight from the crowded dance floor, sylus tugged you closer, kissing you like he’d been starved. your bodies stumbled up the stairs, hands tangled and desperate, a hunger between you that neither could deny. he pressed you against the wall at the top of the stairs, his lips trailing down your neck, each kiss an act of claiming. you felt his eagerness press against you and your head swirled deliciously.

“i can feel how badly you want me,” you taunt, chest rising as you fight for composure. “want me so bad you’d drop to your knees if I told you to, wouldn’t you?”

"you could make me beg for you. and more." he pressed into you, harder now. his body solid against yours as the air became thick with want. “but we both know you want to be the one on your knees."

you pull off him with a smirk of your own, opening the closest door and leading him inside. “you think you’re the only one who knows how to play this game?”

once you both stepped into the room, you shove sylus back onto the bed. his handsome face tipped up at you from where he landed, eyes cocky and smug despite being beneath you.

"i’m the one who taught you how to play, sweetie.”

you lock the door behind you with a click, leaving him on the bed to watch every calculated move you made.

you turn to face him. your steps unhurried, hips swaying like a predator with a plan. his gaze devours you as you reach the center of the room and spin your back to him.

the low hem of your dress dips scandalously, held up only by two delicate straps. you slide one down, then the other. the fabric sinks down your body, every inch a show for the man breathing heavier by the second.

the fabric hits the floor and you step out of it and cross the room. sylus sits on the edge of the bed, legs spread like he's trying not to burst at the sight of you.

you drop to your knees before him, fingers ghosting up his thighs.

you undo his belt like it’s second nature, because it is, but this time there's no soft glances or whispered promises. only tension, sweat, and the sharp edge of something darker.

you shift him out of his underwear and he's already leaking, throbbing for you. you pull him out slow, eyes locked on his like a dare. despite taking him plenty of times before, his huge length still intimidated you. and made your mouth water.

then, with his hard cock still in your hands, you tilt your head back and loll your tongue out with a dirty smile.

“fuck,” he breathes, before leaning forward and spitting directly into your open mouth.

you swirl it around with your tongue, exaggerated and filthy, before letting it drip from your lips straight onto the tip of his cock. you stroke him with it, twisting your wrist just right, watching him twitch and strain in your grasp as you spread the mess down him.

sylus manages a breathless smirk. “has our time apart made you dirtier?” his voice is wrecked. “or have you missed me this much?”

you drag your tongue up his length, lingering on his sensitive vein, then pull back with a wet pop. the action drives him wild, and he has to bite his lip to stop himself from groaning.

your eyes gleam with something wicked. “you’re so much more attractive when you’re moaning for me instead of talking.”

your lips part again, this time to take him in painfully slow. you twirl your tongue around his tip, the taste so familiar it makes your eyes roll back. the mix of fluids slick his cock all the way down to the base, your lips shiny and swollen around him.

then you sink lower and he can’t stop staring. can’t stop twitching in your mouth like he’s about to blow from just the sound of your gag. his hips jerk when the tip hits the back of your throat, and you pull off again with a sinful smirk.

“you always get so twitchy when i barely touch you,” you purr, stroking him with lazy precision. “what happened to that control you're so proud of?”

his jaw tightens at your jab, hands gripping the edge of the bed so hard his knuckles go white. while he did enjoy you challenging him, you were working his last nerve.

you lean in once more, smiling with satisfaction at his reaction. your movement light on his aching cock, suckling and teasing, never committing. your hands move unhurried, your mouth even slower, and his whole body is trembling from restraint.

sylus lets out a low, ruined growl. “keep teasing me and you'll regret it, kitten.”

“is that a threat or a promise?” you whisper, licking along the underside of his shaft. “because it sounds a lot like begging to me.”

his hands tremor like he wants to grab you, but you stay in control. for now.

you now take him with vigor, enough to make him moan, then stop. again. and again. always just a little more, never enough. he's throbbing in your grip, leaking like he could cum from this alone.

“fuck,” he mutters. “you’re gonna drive me insane.”

you pout with faux innocence. “what, this?” you give him a long, slow lick, eyes full of mockery. “close already?”

and then he snaps.

in a blur of motion, sylus grabs you by the hair, pulls you up, and throws you onto the bed, flat on your back.

you barely have time to gasp before he's on you, all passion and vengeance. he slides between your thighs, yanking your panties off like they personally committed your aggravating acts.

“you wanna tease?” he snarls, breath hot against your inner thigh. “then fucking take it.”

his mouth hovers just above your dripping cunt, teasing you now. his turn to play. he breathes against your folds, lips barely brushing, just enough to make you whimper.

“what’s wrong, sweetie?” he taunts, voice thick with revenge and lust. “thought you liked going slow.”

you reach down and twist your fingers in his hair, yanking his face into you with a growl of your own.

“eat. or i will ride your face and make you regret waiting.”

sylus keens at your words, tongue diving in like a man starved. he loved when you got rough with him, turning him on like no other.

you moan right back at the feeling of him, legs already starting to shake. there's no more teasing in his movements, he’s messy, frantic, seemingly obsessed. his mouth is somehow everywhere at once, like he’s trying to drown in your taste.

you writhe under him, losing every ounce of control you once held. and he doesn’t stop. not even when your thighs close around his head. not even when you scream his name.

there’s no finesse, just open mouthed hunger, his tongue and lips on a mission to touch every part of you. then he adds two fingers, slipping in deep and curling them just right, hitting that spot you never could on your own. you gush around them, soaking his hand, and he groans like the mess is a gift.

you clutch the sheets below you, the sensation too much and not enough. every time his nose nudges your clit, every hit of his perfectly angled fingers, your body jolts. the bed creaks below you as he pushes you closer and closer to that high you've been chasing for months. but nothing, nothing, ever touched you like this.

your orgasm starts barreling toward you and right when you're on the cusp of mind numbing pleasure—

he slows down.

right as your toes curl and your thighs tense, he pulls back. you whine, strung out and soaked.

you’re about to beg when you notice the bed is still shaking. not just from you.

sylus is grinding against the mattress. hard and desperate.

you let out a breathless, evil little laugh. “you’re humping the bed? i’m the one getting eaten alive, and you’re the one falling apart?”

you should’ve stopped there. you really should’ve.

but you smirk, lift your hips so you can meet his eyes, and whisper, “what, couldn’t wait your turn?”

his face changes at that, deep and pissed, then he grabs your hips and flips you onto all fours like you weigh nothing.

“should’ve filled your throat with cum to shut that mouth,” he hisses into your ear.

before you can reply, his hands are spreading you open and his mouth is back on you. from behind.

his tongue laps at your entrance, filthy and unrelenting, while his fingers sneak down to bully your clit in ruthless circles. your arms give out at the same time as your legs begin to buckle, but he doesn’t let you fall. one strong arm wraps around your waist whilst the other pleasures you without mercy.

you greedily grind your ass into his face and he groans at the action like he wants to live between your thighs. you clench around his tongue, fluids mixing together, and the mess just spurs you on further. spurs him on further. the building liquids slide down your legs, coating his face and all he wants is more.

you’re about to fall apart all over again when he pulls away in one fluid motion.

your body collapses onto the bed, shaking from the sudden change. you roll onto your back, dazed and desperate.

sylus wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, not even trying to be subtle, and spreads your legs wide. his eyes drink in the sight, as if your glistening pussy was some divine offering.

you pout, fingers drifting toward your clit, desperate to finish what he stole. but sylus grabs your wrist, pins it above your head, and lines himself up with you. his neglected cock dripping with precum as he slides it between your folds.

you bite your lip at how heavy and huge he is. the head alone makes your thighs tremble.

then he leans down, mouth right against your ear.

“you’re not cumming,” he murmurs, slow and cruel, “unless it’s on my cock.”

your breath stutters. it’s been months since you took him, months since your body was trained for that stretch. he was so big, it hurt. you swallow hard, pride burning at your own words.

"just… not too fast,” you say, trying to stay steady. “okay?”

he tilts his head, mocking you with that fake-soft voice. “of course, sweetie. whatever you need.”

he kissed your forehead like the lover he once was.

then slammed his full length inside you.

your mouth opens in a silent scream. he’s thick, obscene, and the sudden stretch makes your vision fade out. you claw at his biceps, nails digging in, but he doesn't care.

“you thought that bratty little attitude was gonna earn you favors?” he grits out, voice strained and dark with desire.

he pulls out almost completely, then drives back in deeper. harder.

“be good and take it.”

your mind is reeling, your body even worse. you're clenching around him like a vice, almost trying to force him to slow down. he doesn't.

in fact, he lets go of the hand pinning yours above your head and grabs your hips instead, tilting them up and fucking into you faster. he’d force you to take it. you always liked it rough.

"just needed some dick to shut you up, hmm?" he stated, each word hitting with the rhythm of his thrusts.

you almost choke. he was drilling so deep it felt like he was aiming for your throat. his hand then slid over your stomach and pressed down, and he grinned above you like the smug devil he is when he felt himself moving inside you.

"shut up—nghh—'n fuck me harder." you manage out, your tone not matching the challenge in your voice even slightly.

your body remembered him now. that stretch, that angle. you were soaking him, walls practically begging for him. his cock slipped in and out like he owned it. because he does.

sylus realizes it too, because he leans in, pushing impossibly deeper before gloating in your face. "this pussy missed me. she’s crying for it."

you try to snap something back, something sharp, anything to bite into his smugness. but it dies on your tongue the second his hips grind into yours. his cock drags deep and slow, just once, and your whole body locks up. the stretch is somehow overwhelming and perfect. like you were made for him.

your fingers scramble over his back, clinging to him for stability, but all you can manage is a strangled, “fuck, sylus—”

his rhythm falters, just for a second, but you feel it. his gaze snaps to yours, suddenly serious. his body stills then, cock twitching inside you. it seemed like he was searching for something in you that he was too scared to name.

he leans in once more, but this time not to hit deeper. to look at you, really look. his breath fanned your lips, your cheeks, your throat.

"you missed me too," he says. no question in it.

you want to lie. bite back with something petty and proud. but your pussy clenches around him like it’s answering for you, loud and shameless.

your chest heaves as you stare up at him. your throat aches from holding back all the things you swore you’d never say.

and still, you whisper it.

“yours.”

sylus goes rigid at your confession.

you feel a shudder pass through his entire body. he clenched his jaw while his hands trembled against your waist, grip tightening. then something breaks. he manhandles your thighs up and wide, body looming over yours.

“say it again.” he demands in between guttural grunts. “say you’re mine.”

you wail at the change in position, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes and pleasure twisting in your belly like a storm. “'m yours. fuck—sylus, i’m yours.”

his chest pins your thighs to your torso, folding you nearly in half. the angle makes your head dizzy, an entirely new world of bliss. you’re split open, completely at his mercy, and your cunt pulses around him like it knows it’s where it belongs.

“fucking say it while I ruin you.” his voice cracks, hips pistoning forward again and again. he’s completely unraveling, thrusts messier now, more desperate.

you chant it like a mantra. “yours, yours, yours—”

“look at you,” he grunts, sweat dripping from his jaw onto your chest. “taking me so good now. tight little pussy just needed a reminder.”

his pace is brutal and unrelenting. your thighs shake, pinned wide open, helpless to do anything but feel every inch of him. be filled by him.

his eyes don’t leave yours. there’s hunger there, but you also notice something raw too. that longing feeling you thought only you felt.

sylus dips down, lips brushing yours, and murmurs against your mouth. “you really gonna go back out there like this?”

you blink at him, dazed. “huh?”

“full of me,” he snarls, hitting deep enough to knock the breath from your lungs. “my cum soaking your thighs while you try to finish your mission. think you can keep it in?”

you moan loudly at his filthy words and he grins against your cheek.

“say you want it. say you want me to fill you up.”

you don’t even hesitate.

“yes please! sylus, want it!”

“say it right.” he commands, snapping his hips so hard the bed frame groans. “tell me who you belong to.”

“you! ’m yours—fuck—please cum inside me!”

he loses it.

his grip tightens bruisingly on your hips, dragging you down to meet every savage thrust. the drag of his cock is erratic, his body shuddering above yours.

“gonna fill you up,” he pants, “make you mine all over again—shit!—you’re gonna leak for me, kitten. gonna walk outta here with my cum dripping down your thighs and everyone knowing you let me claim you.”

the possessiveness in his voice sends you spiraling. your pussy clenches tight, fluttering around him like your body’s already begging for it. the tension in your belly coils impossibly tight. every hard, brutal thrust inside you making your vision blur.

“sylus,” you gasp, pitch high and breathless, “close, please—”

“you wanna cum on my cock?” he asked, slamming into you with the full force of his weight. “wanna milk me while I fill this cunt up?”

you nod frantically, tears spilling down your cheeks. “yes, yes! please, wanna cum with you, wanna feel you!”

sylus drops his head to your shoulder, teeth scraping your skin. "go on, then. show me how bad you want me."

and you do.

you shatter with a loud cry, your orgasm hitting like a wave that floods your senses. you clench tight around him in spasms that make your back arch off the bed and your fingers dig into his back to anchor yourself. you sob his name as your pussy pulses around him, your entire body wrung out and shaking.

“that’s it,” he moans deeply, his rhythm stuttering as your walls clamp down. “so tight—”

and he’s right there with you.

with a sharp groan, he drives himself deep to bury every inch inside. his hips jerk and his cock twitches as he spills into you, hot and thick. his voice breaks as he utters your name out like a prayer. one hand squeezes your thigh tight while the other trembles on your waist, trying to hold himself together while he fills you up.

you’re shaking, panting into his shoulder, pulling him close as his warmth spills into you. he doesn’t pull out. not yet. just stays there, breathing ragged against your skin, forehead pressed to yours.

your body trembles with aftershocks, cunt fluttering weakly around his cock, milking every drop from him like your body refuses to let him go.

“fuck,” he whispers, voice almost gentle. “you were made for me.”

you’re still dazed, your brain lagging behind the high. you can feel him dripping out of you already, warm and slick between your thighs.

he leans in, brushing a kiss to your temple, like the lover he is.

“you better squeeze those legs shut when you leave,” he murmurs, cocky smirk creeping back in. “i don’t want anyone seeing what’s mine.”

a/n(2): first time writing sylus, hope i did him justice >_< likes and reblogs r super appreciated, lmk your thoughts on this!!!

@mcdepressed290 here is your tag friend as requested. hope u enjoy!!!

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highprettybabyy · 13 days ago

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Seeing Red

Part 1 - The Last Person Alive

jenna ortega x fem!reader apocalypse au

summary: after weeks of surviving alone, Y/N executes a risky plan to clear out a nearby mall in search of supplies.

warnings: enemies to lovers, typical apocalypse stuff, violence, blood, zombies, gore

AN: grrr

word count: 3.4k

—//—

Your chest ached from the relentless sprint through ruined streets, the cold air burning your lungs with every breath. Your entire town was gone - consumed, broken, rotted from the inside out. Street after street teemed with the undead, their grey, sloughing bodies collapsing in on themselves as they shuffled forward without purpose. You could barely look at them anymore. The wet, rattling bellows that wheezed from their throats had turned the very air into something putrid and hard to breathe, like the world itself was rejecting what humanity had become.

You kept to the alleys, moving low between skeletal buildings and twisted fences, inching toward what was once your house - now fortified into something less like a home and more like a bunker.

It had been only a month and a half since the outbreak. Barely any time at all. The news hadn’t even caught up before the cities were overrun. Airports, subways, motorways - the virus spread faster than thought, faster than fear. Entire countries collapsed in under two weeks. Governments fractured. Military forces turned on their own to buy time. And none of it made a difference.

You remembered when it hit your hometown. One minute, the campus was buzzing with assignments, awkward coffee dates, and eye-rolls in the lecture hall - the next, blood smeared the corridors. Screams echoed through dorm rooms. Students leapt from windows. No one got a warning. Just a sudden, brutal end to the world you’d known.

After a careful check of your barricades, you slipped inside the safehouse. Your home’s entryway had long since been stripped of sentiment - the cheerful welcome mat now faded and torn, the door itself reinforced with scrap metal and bolts. You gave your shoes a wipe on instinct, a relic of old habits, before scanning the room with practised precision. Curtains drawn, lights off. No movement.

Only then did you flick on the lantern and drop your duffel bag onto the kitchen table with a dull thud. The metallic clatter of canned goods and the hollow thunk of tools echoed through the silence. Your fingers, still caked in soot and grime, fumbled with the zipper.

Inside: ten tins of food, a bag of potatoes, a hand axe, a machete, screwdriver, hammer, a few jars of jam and chocolate spread, crackers, two cabbages, and somehow - miraculously - an entire smoked ham. Not bad for one run. Your legs still ached from the weight of it, your speed in tight alleys compromised.

You chopped the cabbage and potatoes with dull focus, tossing them into the skillet with a slice of ham, letting the sizzle distract you from the quiet. Some salt, some pepper, a little drizzle of hot sauce, and done. You sat cross-legged on the living room floor, plate balanced on your lap, eating with absent urgency as your eyes flicked toward the papers scattered on the coffee table.

Survival lists. Supply logs. Plans. Everything mapped out in ink that was starting to smudge from repeated contact with dirty fingers. You chewed carefully, blowing on each bite even as steam fogged your eyes.

You picked up a pen and clicked it once. Twice. Three times. “Hammer… check. Screwdriver… check.” You scribbled down new notes, your handwriting slanting harder the further down the list you went. A generator was next. The solar panels on your roof were already beginning to fail - they’d been a miracle early on, but you weren’t an electrician. A book on wiring would help. Seeds, tarp, rain catchers, a trowel. You needed to think long-term now. Fresh food was a fantasy unless you grew it yourself.

The mall was always going to be dangerous. You knew that. But even you hadn’t expected it to still be this bad.

You crouched behind the ancient oak that overlooked the parking lot, eyes scanning the broken concrete stretch that used to buzz with Saturday crowds. Dust-covered cars sat in frozen disarray, doors hanging open, shopping carts tipped like skeletal animals on their sides. And zombies. So many of them. Maybe two hundred, all twitching and groaning and slipping around in loose circles like puppets on broken strings.

You opened your duffel and carefully removed a small CD player. No batteries, not yet. That would be suicide. You checked your jacket pocket. Lighter. Yes. Then - batteries. Good. You exhaled slowly.

The alcohol bottles clinked softly as you lifted the bag again, each one filled with potential destruction. You crept along the edge of the woods behind the mall, the path mostly clear - the natural world still hesitated to welcome the undead. You’d noticed that. Birds and bugs still scattered at their approach.

When you reached the clearing, you worked quickly. Three liquor bottles. Two vodka, one whiskey - didn’t matter. You stuffed them with lengths of rope soaked in ethanol from your last scavenged supply run, laying them in a rough triangle around the speaker. One side open. One long fuse, enough time to escape.

Once everything was in place, you inserted the batteries, snapped the lid shut, and slid the CD inside. The label was half-smeared, but you knew the track by heart. You checked the volume. Maxed out.

Breathe. You flicked the lighter and held it to the rope.

Go.

You lit the fuse and slammed the play button, already turning on your heel as the opening bars of “…Ready For It?” thundered out into the sky.

Adrenaline tore through your veins. You sprinted across the grass, back to the safety of the tree line, the thudding bass behind you acting as bait. You didn’t look back. Couldn’t. Not until you crested the hill and collapsed against the bark, gasping.

You peered down just as three stragglers came into view - slower, less coordinated, but still dangerous. Only three. A miracle.

You rose shakily and drew your machete. The first one went down easy, its head split clean from its shoulders. The second staggered into your swing, and your blade jammed in its skull.

Shit.

You tugged hard but the blade wouldn’t come free. The third was nearly on you, jaw slack, teeth barely attached to grey gums, its lower face practically disintegrated. Drool hung from its chin in strings. You gritted your teeth, heaved the machete sideways with the weight of the corpse still attached, and launched it forward, straight into the last zombie.

The impact knocked them both off their feet, sending them tumbling down the hill like grotesque bowling pins. By the time they reached the bottom, they were in pieces.

You blinked, heart thundering. “Blehhh,” you muttered weakly, dragging the machete through grass and bark to clean it. If you strained your ears, you could still hear the chorus of the song. The speaker was stronger than you’d thought.

You looked out over the fire. Smoke smeared the sky like bruises, and the horde below burned like a funeral pyre. The zombies hadn’t even tried to escape. They walked into the flames, mindless and relentless. You just hoped the fire wouldn’t reach the forest.

The wind was on your side.

You slid down beside the oak tree and watched them burn.

Surprised was an understatement. The halls were mostly clear, a few stragglers here and there, but nothing you couldn't handle with a strong swing with your machete. A few of the lights flickered, suggesting that the solar panels on the roof were giving out slowly. Dust, leaves and zombie grime covered the floors.

The mall was too quiet. A kind of stillness that made your ears ring. After weeks of shrieking, snarling, and the wet squelch of rotting flesh dragging across broken pavement, the absence of sound was worse than noise. You kept your steps light as you moved down the corridor, eyes flicking from overturned benches to shattered storefront windows. There were mannequins in pieces on the floor, stiff arms and pale, bald heads strewn about like dismembered remains. The daylight that managed to filter in through broken skylights was soft, filtered through soot and ash, painting everything in a grayish-yellow haze. But there was no movement. No moaning. No skittering. And for the first time in days, you let yourself hope.

You’d done it. You’d actually pulled it off.

The CD player, the liquor trap, the long fuse - everything had gone to plan. You’d lured most of the undead from the perimeter to the empty field beyond the mall’s edge, right into the fire. Their bodies were so dry, so soaked in decay, they caught like matchsticks. It had been a grotesque spectacle, watching them stumble forward into the flames without hesitation, drawn only by the sound. You felt sick as you watched it, but satisfied too. It gave you a chance. A real one. And now, walking through this half-collapsed temple of consumerism, it almost felt like you’d found a piece of the old world again. That illusion of calm, of stillness, almost made you forget where you were.

You exhaled a long, shaky breath and wiped your palm on your jacket. Your machete dangled loose at your side, and you took a moment to pause by an abandoned juice bar, eyes scanning for any signs of life, or death. Empty. Just like the last four. Your pulse began to slow, your shoulders relaxing just slightly as the adrenaline haze began to fade. For a second, you imagined making it through this trip without a scratch. Collecting everything you could carry - batteries, canned goods, maybe even a jacket that wasn’t torn to hell - and heading back home. Safe. Alone, but safe.

That was your mistake.

A sudden crack split the air behind you. Wood shattering, metal groaning. You spun on instinct, eyes wide as the gate to the sporting goods store exploded open. A flood of bodies spilled out, grotesque and twitching, their skin hanging in tatters. You didn’t even have time to curse before they were on you.

There were so many.

Fifteen at least, packed together in the dark back of the store like diseased rats, their hunger boiling over now that the door was gone. Their eyes were milky, their limbs jerking erratically as they lunged forward as one. You ducked back just in time to avoid the first swipe, your machete swinging up in a wide arc that took off the lead zombie’s head. It hit the tile with a heavy clunk, rolling once before stopping at the base of a broken vending machine.

The next one grabbed at your arm, and you grunted as you twisted free, plunging your blade up through its jaw. The crunch of bone and the warmth of blood reminded you that hesitation meant death. You moved quickly, slicing through arms and necks with swift, practiced swings. One went down. Then another. You lost count after eight.

Your breathing became ragged, sweat pouring down your back as the weight of exhaustion began to slow you. You could feel it happening - your arms shaking, your grip faltering - but you didn’t have time to stop. The ninth zombie barrelled into you, its body heavier than expected, sending you tumbling backward across the floor. Your back slammed into a metal display rack, pain blooming down your spine. You scrambled to your feet, driving the blade through its eye socket with a scream, and then twisted just in time to avoid another bite.

There were five left.

And nowhere left to run.

You were backed into a corner now, boxed in by collapsed beams and heavy furniture that had once been part of a demo area. You could barely lift your machete, your vision blurred at the edges, but you held your ground. Blood dripped from your cheek, your arms, your knees, you weren’t even sure how many wounds were yours anymore.

You gritted your teeth, raised your weapon one last time, and prepared to die fighting.

Then, a sound louder than anything - BLAM - and the zombie closest to you crumpled as its head exploded in a spray of black and red. Another shot. Another body down. You stared, stunned, as gunfire lit up the corridor, each blast echoing off the tile and metal until only silence remained again. The last of them dropped, twitching once before going still.

You blinked, your brain struggling to catch up to what just happened. And then you saw her.

She stepped out of the shadows like a ghost from your past. Combat boots, ripped jeans, a dirt-smeared army jacket hanging off her shoulders like she stole it off a corpse. A military-grade mask covered most of her face - one of those black, moulded types you’d only seen soldiers wear back when the military was still pretending they had things under control. She lowered her rifle with practiced ease, cocked her head slightly.

You knew who she was before she even took it off.

Jenna fucking Ortega.

You were so out of breath you couldn’t even muster a proper insult. “Jesus Christ,” you rasped, still dazed. “Jenna?”

She tugged the mask off slowly, like she had all the time in the world, revealing that familiar expression - that impossibly punchable smirk paired with eyes sharp enough to slice you open. Her hair was longer than you remembered, wild and messy, and somehow she still had the nerve to look good. She stared at you like you were a roach crawling out from under her shoe.

“Of all the people still alive,” she said flatly, voice edged with dry disdain, “it had to be you.”

Even now, covered in blood and ash, you managed a scoff. “Yeah, well, you’re welcome for the zombie barbecue out front.”

Her eyes narrowed, and for just a second, you saw something flicker behind them. Surprise? Relief? It vanished as quickly as it came.

You straightened up slowly, ignoring the ache in your knees. “You gonna shoot me next, or are you here to criticise my machete form?”

Jenna snorted, slinging her rifle over her shoulder. “Please. If I was gonna shoot you, you’d already be dead.”

Before you could reply, a long, low moan echoed through the mall.

You both turned your heads in unison.

The last few stragglers - four, maybe five - had been drawn by the noise. Shuffling from the lower floor, crawling over the rubble, stumbling straight for you.

You looked at Jenna. She looked at you.

“Truce?” you said.

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t make me regret it.”

--//--

AN: i hope you liked it grrrr <3

AN: haven't proofread as much as i probably needed to lol

#jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #lesbian fanfiction #lesbian #wlw #sapphic #wlw fanfiction #fanfic #hpb.fanfics #hpb.jenna

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cobaltperun · 5 months ago

Text

Eternal Flame (8) - City Lights

Jenna Ortega x Female Reader

Summary: For her it’s a passion, for you it’s an accident. And as she continues shining brighter and brighter with each role you are left mesmerized, drawn to her flame and cherishing every time she lets herself be vulnerable with you.

Spotify playlist

Masterlist / First Part / Previous part / Next Part

Word Count: 8.1k

-So when I touch that sky, will the ladder break? And who will be there on my fall from grace?-

You managed to dry your hair a lot easier and quicker than you thought you would, but you still remained in the bathroom, trying to calm your nerves down. This was it. You were at Jenna's house, you've sort of met her family, or at least a part of it, and you made things a bit awkward. Which was not what you wanted to do, and the last thing you wished for right now was to make things even more awkward. Your wishes meant nothing, however, because the way you would be meeting them now would be doing exactly that. It would be bizarre, absolutely ridiculous, because you wouldn't be coming in from the outside, you would be coming from upstairs, where just to make it even more awkward, their bedrooms were, down to the living room.

If you weren't so nervous it probably would have crossed your mind that it looked like Jenna had brought her lover over to her home in the middle of the night. And now that lover was coming down to meet her family after a long night together.

Damn rain.

Embarrassment and awkward meetings aside, the pain was also getting a bit uncomfortable, so you reached into your bag and downed two pills to help you with the pain. “OK, I can do this,” you whispered, and took several deep breaths, just to buy yourself a bit more time. Finally, you plucked up the courage and went back to Jenna's room to see her hastily folding her shirts. She was chewing on her lower lip, and you figured she was even more embarrassed than you. You weren't lying to her, you really did find this endearing and it really wasn't as messy as she thought it was.

Jenna looked up when she heard the doors closing, you probably should have knocked, but in your defense she left the doors opened. She looked you over, pretty much checking you out as you wore the light gray shirt that belonged to her father. It was a bit big for you, since as strong as you were you had more of a lean build than a bulky one, but it would do.

“You look nervous,” she pointed out and walked up to you, but there was no denying that both of you were feeling like that.

You just shrugged, hoping to play it cool, more for your own sake than any other reason. “I'm not really used to meeting the family,” you admitted, having no troubles in expressing how you felt about this. You wanted to meet them, you were eager to do so, but there definitely was some sort of nervousness about the entire ordeal. After all, you did have feelings for Jenna.

Jenna smiled and slowly, rather gently, caressed your cheek. “They’ll love you, just like-“ and she paused, catching herself before she could finish that sentence but you could see it in the startled expression on her face and the way her hand froze. If anyone asked you, you wouldn’t be able to say what exactly happened, but you were overcome with feelings and in that moment you just pulled her in holding her tightly and actually lifting her up. Jenna, though for a moment startled by the display affection, quickly hugged you back, squeezing you tightly around your shoulders and neck. She took a deep breath as she buried her face in the crook of your neck. “-like I do,” she finished that sentence and kissed your cheek. “And I really, really do love you a lot,” she whispered her voice shaky, the tone of it trembling and betraying the slight insecurity she felt.

“I love you too. Jenna, you mean so much to me,” you couldn't even begin to describe everything she meant to you. Even if you found the words that could describe your feelings, you couldn't tell her without telling her about the fights. And at that moment, as you felt both the warmth of her presence, and the pain from the bruises, you came to a startling realization. You trembled for a moment, almost overcome by the sense of clarity that you suddenly got. You were almost ready to just give it all up, to push through and quit fighting, to end the cycle and find a way, any way you could, to actually feel worthy of loving her.

“Y/N,” your name fell from her lips, and you were fairly certain no one had ever nor will anyone ever speak your name as sweetly as she did.

“Jenna what's taking so long? Oh shit, sorry,” the two of you were suddenly interrupted by Jenna’s younger sister, Aliyah, coming in and you quickly separated.

Jenna cleared her throat as she tried to calm her rapidly beating heart down and gestured toward Aliyah. “This is my younger sister, Aliyah,” she then gestured at you while slightly glaring at her sister. “Aliyah, this is Y/N,” she introduced the two of you each other since you were already in the same room. Might as well get one introduction out of the way.

You quickly offered Aliyah your hands and she shook. “It's nice to meet you,” you said and she nodded, an amused smile spreading on her face as she looked from you to Jenna.

“Guess I don't get a hug, do I?” she teased, and with the way Jenna looked down and slapped her forehead you just knew this wasn’t going to be the only teasing you and Jenna were going to get. “Reeree, I told you to warn me if you needed a room to yourself,” oh, this was the absolute disaster, she was even more direct about it than Enrique. She might even be able to give Barbara a run for her money, and she was what? Sixteen? You shivered at the thought of all the teasing you and Jenna might have to endure when she gets older, or in the even worst case scenario, she ends up teaming up with Barbara.

“That’s not what was going on!” Jenna cried out and just as Aliyah was about to open her mouth again Jenna grabbed your hand and pulled you out. “Not a single word, we are going down so Y/N can meet everyone else!” Jenna put a stop to whatever Aliyah was going to say and you let Jenna pull you along as Aliyah laughed behind the two of you.

Yeah, this was happening, you were about to meet the family.

~X~

Fire. That's exactly how Jenna would describe what was going on between the two of you. Even now, though she could no longer feel your hands around her, she still felt like her skin was burning, yearning for the same sensation she got when you held her. The same sensation she was trying to invoke by holding your hand right now, but it just wasn't enough. She wanted more, she wanted that warmth to be surrounding her again, to feel it consuming her from the inside. It was both a physical and an emotional need, and they were both fulfilled at the same time when she felt your touch. And it felt so damn good, so addictive.

She glanced back at you, noticing the way your eyes were focusing on your hands, locked together as you walked just a bit behind her, and she wondered what you were thinking. You felt this too, didn’t you? Jenna found herself wondered if the two of you would have kissed if only you were given a few extra minutes, because she certainly felt like she was ready for that step.

You lifted her up so easily. And the way you held her, she couldn't even describe it properly. The closest description she could come up with was that you held her like you had nothing more precious in your life than her. And it almost frightened her with how intense and raw it was, how genuine and vulnerable you could be. Not to mention how you responded to her own vulnerability not by making her feel ashamed for acting like that but by supporting her through it and letting her see that you were perfectly fine with her being vulnerable.

And she wanted it almost desperately. She wanted to feel all of that with you, to feel all of those emotions, only unrestrained by this friendship, because as raw and intense as it was there was this restraint put on it all by the label you both put on your relationship. And she could no longer avoid accepting that she wanted that restraint gone.

Jenna knew, she one hundred percent knew, that if circumstances were any different, if you were alone, at her place in LA or at your place, and if that happened there that she wouldn’t just kiss you. No, she would have done so much more, letting you do whatever you wanted to do to her. She swallowed the lump in her throat, forcing her mind out of the gutter.

And to try and keep those thoughts at bay, because she wouldn’t be a hormonal teenager right now, she went and looked back at you. Because of course that would help push those thoughts away.

As she led you down the stairs, she caught you taking her childhood home in, looking at the photos her parents hung on the walls. There were many of them, after all they were a big family, and the photos showed that. There were photos of her, her siblings and her parents, as well as her nephews and even some of her extended family. Her mom loved keeping the memories through the photos and Jenna wished she could get into that habit as well. Every special occasion was accompanied with the photo, and she wondered how your own parents house was. Were there photos of you while you were filming Logan or maybe when you finished high school or maybe other things like that? Or maybe your parents were more of a ‘keeping things in memory’ kind of couple, instead of hanging everything on the walls and keeping the physical reminders of those times.

Jenna wanted to meet them. To see for herself the kind of people that raised you and made you the way you were right now. With how loving you were they must have done something right. In a way, and perhaps she just noticed it today, you treated every moment with people you loved like it could be the last one. And not in the negative way. It was just that when you cared for someone and could also relax all of your attention was on that someone.

And that realization brought those desires right back to the front of her mind. How deeply and passionately would you love someone if you treated friends like that? Jenna wondered what you were thinking right now, she wondered if you wanted her as much as she wanted you. Somehow a thought crossed your mind that you wanted her even more. And it made that warmth from the spreading through her like a flame that would never extinguished.

When the two of you reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped back into the living room, she saw the table was set, with her dad already sitting there at the head of the table, while her mom and Markus were watching a football game. It was like her family was creating a sort of a bubble around them, hoping to have a moment of normalcy before your presence sort of shattered it into pieces. After all, they all probably saw right through her and by now knew this wasn't just her inviting friends over.

Jenna cleared her throat and the bubble the family was happily in burst as they all turned to look at you and Jenna.

“Uh, hello, again” you said and raised your hand to wave slightly. That nervous grin on your face was honestly more than a little endearing to Jenna. She found this a bit more shy and reserved side of you to be a surprise, if she was honest. You've always had this air of confidence and ‘I can do anything’ kind of attitude, but here you were, meeting her family and acting a bit like a dork, which was something she could definitely enjoy seeing more often.

Jenna’s mom was the first to get up, seeing as she met you briefly. It was clear all of you were trying to ignore that you came back from upstairs and how it looked. “Y/N, it’s good to see you again,” she came up to you and surprisingly pulled you into a brief hug. You returned it, but Jenna could see you were genuinely surprised by this greeting.

“Jenna can’t shut up about you,” Jenna’s sister, Aliyah, chimed in behind you. Oh, right, she came downstairs with the two of you, and now she was going to turn Jenna's day from very, very pleasurable to potentially ‘The Teasing from Hell - Part 2: The Return of Enrique’s Disciple’.

It was one hell of a miracle that he wasn’t here as well, since he promised he’d be here to watch the show and tease her. Not that it mattered. Aliyah was here to fill in for him. Why couldn’t Aliyah be her natural shy self instead of relishing in the opportunity to tease her?

“I can!” Jenna quickly retorted and turned away from you. She did not deny that she was talking about you though, she just couldn’t deny it, or, honestly, shut up about you. She's been talking about you meeting her family ever since she plucked up the courage to tell then you were coming, and she would be the first to admit it was a bit annoying.

“Sure you can, Jenna,” Markus teased her and just like that her younger brother came up to you and greeted you, and all that was left was her dad.

The man came out of the dining room and looked you over, studying you, And Jenna herself got nervous imagining how you must have felt under his gaze. He was a cop, after all, and worst of all Jenna wasn't sure exactly what he was looking for. She just noticed he focused on your hand, and not the left hand she was holding, but rather on your right hand, and your knuckles in particular. Jenna couldn't quite figure it out, but he frowned for a moment. “You do lots of martial arts, don't you?” he asked, and Jenna couldn’t figure out how looking at your fist told him that, and sure, he heard about it from Jenna, but it looked like he would have figured it out from looking at your fist.

“Yes, I've been practicing different martial arts for several years now. Since I was roughly thirteen,” you replied casually, and her dad nodded. Frankly, she wasn't sure what else he was expecting.

“Welcome, Y/N, nice to meet you,” after what felt like eternity he went and offered his hand to you, and you accepted it.

“It’s nice meeting you all,” you said, now sounding a lot more confident than before and she breathed out a small sigh of relief because this was more along the lines of what she expected from you.

“Come on you two, let’s eat,” her mom told the two of you, and while still holding hands Jenna and you followed the rest of her family to the table. Just like before you went and pulled the chair out for her, now feeling a lot more in your element, as you pretty much, and very likely now that she thought about it, ignored the stares of her family and just focused on doing what you did the best. Making Jenna feel seen, cared for, and accepted.

“Thanks,” this time she had to hold from tugging you down so you could hug her again and instead just patted you on the back of your hand as you pushed her chair in.

“Anytime,” you said and sat down on the chair to her left.

~X~

The lunch was, in one word, amazing. Natalie was an incredible cook, both when it came to variety and the taste, making a wide array of Mexican food as well as several other dishes. You honestly weren’t even sure where to start as Jenna put the food on your plate. Natalie and Aliyah were sitting on the other side of the table, while Markus sat to your left and Edward sat at the head of the table, on Jenna’s right side.

“Thanks, Jen,” you thanked her before you all started eating, you missed the smile on Natalie’s face at the nickname you kept using.

“Could you pass me the hot sauce?” she asked pointing at the sauce close to you. By the looks of it, you both slipped right back into the old habits from the set of Scream.

“Sure,” you handed it to her, and then put it back where it was when she poured it over her tacos. She definitely loved spicy food, and you were still amazed with how well she could handle hot food.

“The food is amazing, Natalie,” you complimented as you swallowed the first bite of your own taco. It was good that Jenna told you in advance her mom was the one who prepared the food.

“Thanks, Y/N,” Natalie nodded and smiled at the compliment.

“Told you, you have competition,” Jenna pointed out. “Too bad I couldn’t save a single piece of that cake for you.”

“I don’t know, this is a tough act to follow,” and you were being honest, you could cook, but this was truly something. “But, challenge accepted, I need to have all of you over for a dinner sooner or later,” and you would actually put extra effort into that dinner. Cooking wouldn’t be an issue, the main trouble would be how you could handle finding enough space for all of them, because your apartment definitely wasn't fit for a huge family. Well, you would figure something out when the time comes.

“Count me in, I need to see if Jenna was exaggerating,” Aliyah promised you and you grinned a bit when Jenna groaned and lowered her head. “I'm telling you, she just keeps yapping on and on about you! I wasn't kidding when I said I told her to tell me if she needed the room to herself,” you shrunk a bit in your seat because of Aliyah’s words. Both the fact that Jenna talked about you so much and the implications of the second part making you feel more than a bit embarrassed.

“I don't need the room to myself!” Jenna exclaimed, blushing like crazy when she said that, and you closed your eyes. Yet, even with your eyes closed you could see it coming from a mile away, that was just the interlude into the real tease.

“Considering what I caught the two of you doing, I'm not so sure,” there. There it was. And the silence that followed those words was deafening, and you could feel Jenna's parents looking right at you.

“You should probably run,” Jenna’s brother, Markus told you and your eyes widened as you looked at him and he just nodded. “It was good meeting you,” he wasn’t even joking! Jenna had dry humor, but this guy was just being serious!

“We were just hugging!” Jenna cried out, hoping to prevent the potential harm that could fall upon you and you nodded as quickly as you could. Now that you were thinking about it, well that wasn't really going in your favor either, because you spent hours with Jenna alone and somehow you were still hugging. Could it have been nothing? Absolutely! It could have been just a friendly display of affection between friends. Yet the circumstances weren't in your favor, and you found yourself staring blankly at Aliyah.

“What have I ever done to you?” you mouthed and she just shrugged. You were met with us sorry not sorry look in her eyes.

“Right, that happened,” Natalie turned back to her plate hoping to lower the tensions and the blood pressure of her husband, and then she looked at you again. “So, Y/N, can you tell us a bit about your family?”

Someone please bring the teasing back.

You froze for a moment, nearly dropping the fork in your hand. “Sure, sure,” your voice cracked as you were suddenly put on a spot. “Yeah, of course. I am an only child,” you could feel Jenna’s eyes on you, you could feel everyone’s attention on you, even more so with that initial reaction, and you looked at Jenna, partly to calm down and in the process catching the genuinely surprised look in her eyes. She clearly didn't expect you to freeze like that, and you definitely didn't blame her. You didn't think she could even begin to imagine that your parents were no longer alive.

“And your parents? What do they do?” Edward asked, raising an eyebrow but brushing the reaction off as just you being surprised.

“Mom was a pilot and dad worked in cybersecurity,” you replied, voice hoarse as you answered. Back when you were growing up both those jobs, and your parents as well, looked like heroes in your eyes. You looked up to them, always wanting to make them proud, they looked like they were flawless when you were a child. And they made sure you never noticed or suffered because of tension and problems in their marriage, they kept you as protected from those issues as they possibly could. Maybe that was part of the reason why you felt so inadequate and useless when they were gone and you couldn’t do anything, because they created this image of always having answers and solutions, and when it was your turn to do the same you failed.

The bite Jenna took of her salad went and got stuck in her throat and you quickly patted her on the back, which luckily helped. “Sorry. I should have… Fuck, I feel horrible now,” she lowered her head, ashamed and all you felt now was guilt over making her feel like this. She caught it, they all caught it, the fact that you spoke in past tense, combined with the fact that you never mentioned them to Jenna, and how you reacted to the question. There was no doubt about it in anyone’s mind.

“I'm sorry, let's not make this awkward. It was,” you paused, putting your emotions back under control, not letting a single hint of weakness slip through the cracks. “There was an accident and they,” you looked down, forcing those feelings further down, forcing the normality without this conversation back upon you all. “Yeah, it's been a while, I’m fine now,” you tried brushing it off, and fixing the situation. “Jenna told me you've been incredibly supportive of her ever since she was starting out and now of course. I've actually been really curious to know about it,” you tried to get her family to talk about something else and luckily given the nature of the topic that was just breached it looked like everyone was really eager to make things less awkward.

Jenna actually took your hand and squeezed it and she leaned closer to you, letting your shoulders touch and it was like the weight fell from your shoulders and you could once again breathe. No one said a single word about it, not the single teasing remark even though it was in plain sight and you appreciated it, smiling gently at her to show it to her.

~X~

The guilt was absolutely wrecking her from the inside, and she thought back to all of those times she wished she could meet your parents. And sure, you never told her your parents were dead, and there was no way she could have known but at the same time she also felt that she really should have figured out something wasn't completely right. And she noticed it, but she kept trying to come up with different explanation. You came back and only Barbara was in your apartment? You didn’t live with your parents. You forgot about Thanksgiving? Maybe you had a bad relationship with your parents, or they simply didn’t celebrate it. Yet it never crossed her mind that they were taken away from you in what you described as an accident.

How old were you? You said it’s been a while. Were you as old as she was now? Younger? She glanced at Aliyah and Markus, wondering how they would take losing their parents right now? Jenna herself knew she would fall apart if she suddenly lost them, and she probably wouldn’t be able to pick up the pieces any time soon. And she’d still have her siblings left! You were an only child, suddenly left without parents!

You were completely honest when you said you didn't want to make things awkward and you did everything humanly possible to get the mood up again and make her family feel no guilt over bringing your parents up. And she barely held back her tears at that. As she realized that whether consciously or unconsciously you felt like there was something wrong with sharing this and still feeling hurt over it, and that you needed to fix it.

And in that single moment of realization Jenna understood she was helpless. For so many reasons, and she couldn’t even turn to her parents for help. After all, her family wasn't exactly the best with handling emotions, especially since you were basically a stranger they only heard about from her. And the worst thing was that she couldn’t help you either. She watched you falling apart on the inside, cracking and trying to pull all the pieces back together like someone just shattered you. All the while she couldn’t do anything and was only reminded of the time she had her panic attack.

You came in and helped her, calmed her down, saved her from those feelings and understood exactly what she needed. Now here she was, seeing you were in pain and completely unable to figure out a way to help you, to make you hurt less. And that feeling only got worse by the realization that you were putting the feelings of her and her family over your own, trying to reset things for their sake. Touching you like this wasn’t enough, this minimal contact did nothing but reveal to her how you were trembling, the slight tremors of your body barely noticeable to those watching you, but she felt it against her.

She had to do something. “Excuse us for a moment,” she quickly got up and you looked at her, startled, as she pulled you to the hall, figuring out it would give you more privacy than the living room that wasn’t even entirely separated from the dining room and the kitchen.

“Jenna,” you began, and she didn’t even need to hear you out, she knew you’d tell her you were fine, so, instead of letting you utter that lie she just pulled you down until your face was buried in her neck.

“I don’t know what to do,” she admitted, only knowing that losing her loved ones was her greatest fear, but not having any idea how to take it that next step further and relate to such a heavy loss. “Don’t hide it from me, please,” she pleaded, her fingers digging into your hair, her lips right next to your ear. “Please, Y/N,” she whispered, no longer even trying to hold her tears back.

And instead of opening up, instead of letting her help you, you brushed her tears away and hugged her. “I’m fine,” you told her, you lied, you weren’t ready to say it, but she could feel the tension in your body lessening just a bit. “I’m fine,” who exactly were you trying to convince? “I’m so sorry, Jenna,” you were so close to telling her something, she could tell, but at the same time deep down she knew this wouldn’t get her anywhere.

Yet you still fell to your knees, and Jenna followed you down, trying her best to hold you up, to keep you from crumbling. “I couldn’t. I had no other choice, I was desperate,” you gasped for air, and she found herself rubbing soft circles in your back, trying to mimic what you did to calm her down.

“I’m with you, I’ve got you,” she whispered, and brushed her thumb along your cheek, thinking she’d brush a tear off, yet there were no tears. “You have me,” and perhaps that lack of tears, the grief cocooned in some impenetrable armor, broke and hurt her the most. You wanted to fall apart in her arms, to let it all out, and you just didn’t know how. “Y/N,” she cried your name out and your breath hitched as you desperately held onto her.

“I can’t stop. Don’t deserve to stop,” you weren’t making sense, and she felt fear creeping into her heart. What couldn’t you stop? Why did she feel like she was losing you to whatever it was, to whatever you thought you didn’t deserve to stop? “Need it. I failed. Couldn’t continue, couldn’t- I- It’s not- I should have,” it wasn’t making sense.

“Please don’t, please just stop,” she pleaded, blurting those words out without realizing what they would mean to you, breaking with every word you spoke. Feeling a pain so visceral it was pushing her to her limits and it almost felt like she was physically hurting. She wanted you to stop, to take a breath and tell her everything properly, to open up and not just crack in random places. And you just shut your mouth. “Hey, hey wait, not like that,” she cried for you, only now realizing you thought she asked you to stop talking entirely. “Y/N, no, don’t. Talk to me,” it was too late, she lost the chance. The cracks sealed up and you just pushed it all down.

She felt you pulling away from her, and she pulled you back in, holding you there with all of her strength, almost clinging to you and keeping you in place with her entire weight. “I didn’t mean that, I didn’t mean that,” but your breathing was once again steady and calm.

“Let’s just go back, your family is waiting,” you whispered, pulling her up to her feet and despite her efforts pulling away and smiling at her. “Thanks for trying,” you said and leaned back against the wall, and she shook her head, hugging you and burying her face in your chest, barely caring that her tears would be visible on the light gray shirt.

“This isn’t how I wanted things to go,” she wanted to help you, yet she failed. She didn’t have the right words, didn’t know how to reach you.

“I know,” you rubbed her back, calming her down when it was supposed to be the other way around. You were forcing yourself to be strong for her. Letting her cry her heart out for you.

“Please, I can’t lose you. Couldn’t take it and it felt like I was losing you,” she missed the way your eyes widened at those words. “Don’t want this with anyone else but you,” she wasn’t even sure what ‘this’ was, she just felt it so deep inside her heart. “I want all of you, Y/N,” and she wanted to give you all of her.

“I’ll fix it,” she nearly missed the words you whispered, almost too quietly, despite how close Jenna was to you. She certainly missed the look of absolute resolve in your eyes. Either way, for one hopeful moment she thought you had started talking again, but you didn’t say a single word after that. No. You just let her silently cry until her tears ran out, until your touch filled her with warmth once more, and only then you separated, and you wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Come on, food’s getting cold,” this time you were the one guiding her back to her family, putting on the mask of confidence and acting like what you went through didn’t come out.

So, Jenna would act like it as well, pretending in front of her family that pulling you away from them had a purpose, that it did something good for you, instead of just making you feel like you had to suppress your feelings around her. She would do it, and she wasn’t even sure why. Maybe it was to help her family and prevent them from feeling guilty, maybe there was some other reason, at this point it hardly mattered.

You all seemed to just pretend that single minute at the table never happened.

And Jenna wasn’t sure if she should feel grateful or even more worried for you.

For now she could do nothing but look at you, observe you as you began talking to her family as if nothing happened, and bit by bit she began believing the illusion as well.

As the lunch ended Jenna watched you, almost mesmerized as you talked to her mom about the different foods and recipes. Her heart beat faster as she noticed how you focused on learning which food Jenna loved the most, picking up even more secrets and information that you didn't get to learn while you were on set together. This, you with her family, was something she could easily get used to. There was a slightly selfish part of her that hoped that's maybe one day would consider her family your own family and that it would at least slightly fill the void of loss you’ve been feeling for so long. Maybe that would be the thing to help you through the grief. Maybe she just wasn’t enough on her own.

"Are you kidding me?" your eyes widened, and you turned to Jenna. It was like the cracks never showed up, and you were perfectly fine. "You got apples three times?" you asked incredulously after her mom told you about the misfortune she had when she was doing ads. It wasn’t just your effort to cover up the cracks. It was her family as well, consciously making an effort not to help you with what you were feeling, but to cover it up, unsure what to do if it came up again.

Jenna swallowed the lump in her throat, tears once again threatening to fall as this realization hit her as well. Her family couldn’t fill that void, not without a huge effort on both sides, and while she knew her family loved her and that they would love you, she knew they wouldn’t have the time to put that kind of effort in. And while you were doing your absolute best to reset things back to how they were before they all found out your parents were dead Jenna was once more struggling to do her part.

She was an actress, and right now she needed to play a role with you, to fake it until it turned to reality. So, so half blacked-out, pretending she was just acting. She frowned at the memory. She despised apples now. "Yeah, I think I'd rather starve than eat them ever again. I can't even look at them without feeling angry," she finished with a laugh, a bit forced but it worked, it did the job.

You joined her and leaned back a bit, your smile looking a lot lighter and easier than her own. "Good thing I never got the urge to make an apple pie," you may have said that, but Jenna could see you cataloguing her hatred toward apples for later. Somehow she also believed that you would make even an apple pie taste good.

"As long as you make it just make it spicy and vegetarian and Jenna will love it," Aliyah seemed to be dead set on embarrassing her. She even patted you on the back a few times as she went to put away her plate. This time Jenna let it slide because it genuinely made you smile, and that was all she cared about right now, that you were actually fine and not just forcing yourself to be happy.

"And you have to learn how to make guac," Markus just added fuel to the fire. And you just added another information to wherever you were filing the information you were getting. Even if she would much rather make guac for you herself. More than a few times, and preferably often, many, many times, just for the two of you.

"I need to make urnebes salad for you," you said directly to her. "Red bell peppers, chili peppers, cheese, it's a nice, spicy salad," that definitely sounded like something she would like, and she absolutely wanted you to make things for her. Wanted to experience so much with you, try new foods, try new things in general with you, and having you in her life as much as possible.

"I'm going to hold you to that," Jenna told you and you just grinned.

“Okay, how about we all go outside and take a group selfie?” her mom suggested taking Jenna by surprise. You did what you intended, you got everything back on track, even when you were the one that the most affected by all of this. That should have made her relax but it just made her heart clench painfully at that thought.

So, she focused on what was going on instead of on what she was feeling. Her mom definitely loved taking photos, keeping the memories of good times lasting longer and documenting anything she deemed important or worthy of a photo. So, maybe she shouldn’t have been as surprised, but it still felt a bit unexpected, and she hoped you didn’t mind. Looking at your face she didn’t notice any changes, or discomfort.

Granted, you just showed her you absolutely could mask any pain you felt in pretty much an instant. This seemed genuine though, this really seemed like you didn’t mind taking a photo with her family.

So, you followed after her into the backyard where the two of you and her family got ready for her mom to take the photo. What she didn’t expect was for you to suddenly mess up her hair just as her mom took the selfie.

Apparently, you were actually back to normal, and the grin on your face proved it to her.

“Oh my,” her mom chuckled, and Jenna saw her hair was covering most of her face on the photo.

“Y/N,” she spoke calmly, but you already began running, and fine, if that was how you were going to act, then she could play that game too. “It’s fine, I promise!” she exclaimed as she began chasing you, you were laughing and it truly was fine but as long as you were laughing then she was going to keep chasing after you. Just to listen to your laughter for a bit more, because after what happened in the hall, she needed this. She needed you to laugh with her, to tease her, to make her flustered and blush, and make her heart beat wildly inside her chest.

“Then why are you chasing me?” you laughed and Jenna found herself grinning as well, especially when she heard her family holding back their own laughs. This was what she wanted, seeing you like this, free from that tension from before.

She didn’t see this side of you on the set, the childish, silly side that somehow ended up relaxing her even more. “Because you’re running!” it made no sense, but she truly didn’t care. For some reason you got tired a bit quicker than she expected you would, and she smirked speeding up and catching you from behind, hugging you tightly. “Got you,” she laughed and leaned her forehead against your back as she caught her breath.

“Yeah, you got me,” you sounded so genuine, and she could have sworn there was a double meaning to those words. She just didn’t understand it yet.

She wanted to tell you more, but the words got stuck in her throat and despite spending over half an hour thinking about it she suddenly wasn't sure she even had the right words to say to you. “You have me,” she spoke, hoping against hope that those three worlds would convey everything she felt. That they would be enough for you to know that she was with you completely, no matter what happened, no matter what the future brought. She needed you to know that you had her on your side and that you could turn to her at any moment for anything.

“You have me too,” you replied and relief flooded her heart. You understood and then you turned around and she was sure you would hug her back. Jenna looked you in the eyes, expecting a hug, only to be met by a mischievous look on your face as you went and booped her on the nose. “Let’s go back before your parents kill me,” you joked and she rolled her eyes, letting you go and walking slightly ahead of you.

“They wouldn’t,” she denied it as the two of you began heading back toward the house. Her family was already back inside, clearly giving the two of you a moment.

“You think? Your dad is a cop and in his eyes, I’m trying to seduce his baby girl,” you whisper shouted just loud enough for her to hear and she burst out laughing.

“Guess you'll have to set your sight on another girl then, won't you,” even as she joked back she had to admit there was a hint of jealousy in her voice at the mere thought of you with another girl.

Then, as if you sensed just how much power your touch had over her, you pulled her back and into your arms. And Jenna gasped as she felt your left hand on the small of her back, keeping her body pressed right against yours. And the look in your eyes? Jenna found herself melting at the intensity and raw emotion in your gaze. “I can’t,” you didn’t need to say another word. You made your message very, very clear.

“Good to know,” her voice cracked several times in those three words and she forced herself to just very slowly step away from you because her legs weren't exactly steady right now. It wasn’t a day of ups and downs with you today, it was a rollercoaster, and it was clear both of you were trying to bring things back to how they usually were by taking things up to eleven.

~X~

Two hours later you've gotten quite comfortable around Jenna's family, even though you could still see the somewhat scary that look Edward was giving you every time you and Jenna got particularly close to one another. Just another proof that the incident from lunch was mostly forgotten, and the way Jenna reacted to your admission that you couldn’t find another girl told you things between the two of you would be fine as well.

There seemed to be a silent conversation between Jenna and her mother until Jenna finally groaned and got up, leaving you on your own with her family from the looks of it.

“Can’t escape the dishes not even in a situation like this,” she half-jokingly complained to you and you automatically jumped to your feet. “Wait, what are you doing?” she asked, laughing as she pushed you slightly, though quite frankly you were barely feeling her efforts to get you back to sit down.

“Going to help you, of course,” you could see she was about to argue against it, and you quickly argued in favor of your plan before she do so. “I have a plane to catch very soon, let's do this one last thing together and then I can be on my way?” you tried to talk her into it and from the looks of it, it was working. Much like you, Jenna wanted to spend more time with you.

“Fine, but you only get to dry the dishes,” Jenna smiled softly as you pumped your fist in celebration. Granted, the reaction, while genuine, was a bit exaggerated, but you wanted to see her smiling, she didn’t smile that often since lunch. And you didn’t want to leave her like this, you wanted her happy, thinking back to this day fondly. You went into the kitchen where there were plenty of dishes from today's lunch. “Are you sure I can’t help you with more than just drying?” you asked and leaned on the counter next to her as she pulled out some cloth for you to dry the dishes with.

“Absolutely,” she began wiping any of the leftovers off the dishes and putting them back into the sink and you caught yourself just watching her. She was focused on the task and was actually even humming a bit. You didn't quite recognize the song but just listening to Jenna like this was more than enough for you. There was a very comfortable silence in the room, filled with occasional glances and chuckles, as if you were in on an inside joke that no one else knew about and you couldn’t even begin to describe how relieved you were because of that.

“You're staring,” she giggled and returned the favor as she booped your nose with a soap covered finger.

And you suddenly sneezed, barely getting enough time to cover your mouth. The soap kind of made you sneeze. “I was about to say you're beautiful, but I guess it won't work after this,” you rolled your eyes, silently cursing the timing of your sneeze.

“Goof,” Jenna rolled her eyes and you just chuckled at that, happy that everything was once more completely comfortable between you.

She finally handed you a plate to dry and 10 minutes later the two of you had finished washing the dishes and you were about to go and grab your bag. As much as you enjoyed this, you would have to leave in the next 10 to 15 minutes.

“So, this is it?” she said and you could see a question on the tip of her tongue.

“It was a good day,” you didn't even leave yet and you already felt this sense of longing for her. You couldn't tell when would be the next time you would see her, and right then and there, in what was possibly the worst moment, right in her parents’ kitchen, you nearly said it. You nearly told her what you were doing, because she deserved to know. You were both heading toward the point of no painless return. If this kept going even for a bit longer you would just end up hurting Jenna by keeping her in the dark. And you couldn’t have that. “I-“

But before you could say anything Natalie came up to the two of you. “Y/N,” she called out your name.

“Yes?” you weren't sure if you were relieved or not that you were interrupted like this.

“We've been thinking and it would really be a shame for you to go back to Denver today. You've been here for not even half a day and we have a free room,” she began and your eyes widened as you realized where this was going. “Aliyah can go and sleep in Mia's room, and Jenna can take Aliyah's bed so you can sleep in Jenna’s,” you glanced at Jenna and saw the look of pure happiness spreading on her face and that just took away all of your capability to argue against Natalie’s idea.

“I,” you still turned to Jenna with a raised eyebrow. “Do you want this?” you asked her. “It’s OK if you don't want it,” you assured Jenna, but her mom just chuckled, realizing much better than you just how ridiculous that idea was.

“And if I want you to stay?” Jenna asked a bit cheekily.

The answer was simple. “Then I'll stay,” and so the decision was made. You would be staying the night.

“I am betting my bed will remain empty tonight!” Aliyah yelled from the living room, embarrassing both you and Jenna.

Aliyah was absolutely wrong.

Taglist: @lilbitdepressed27 @freakshow2501 @osnapitzmel1 @belatrixdragon @ijustlovemaths

@niqmandu @justspance @mirage018

Masterlist / First Part / Previous part / Next Part

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x female reader #x reader #x female reader

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chrisnaustin · 3 months ago

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If only I were she!

#jenna chew

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hislittleraincloud · 3 months ago

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We're quickly approaching the anniversary of Under Virgin Circumstances and while I was looking some MG shit up for something, I came across an article from last year

She honestly should have kept it in line with her stage play canon.

It will never be polite to tell the stories of young girls who seduce or kill (or both), never be PC to portray a young teen girl as the villain in anything, even though they can be. But the stories must be told as is; to censor them is to play into Purity Culture and create a permanent uncanny valley for the stories that are told. Young girls aren't perfect (neither are young boys, but I'm on topic here w MG).

And you can try to amplify Jon's complicity or the complicity of men like him, but straight, white AMAB cismen can be completely clueless sometimes. Christ, I deal with such cluelessness sometimes here and in my writing groups. As creators and storytellers, we have to accept the flaws of our OCs and not try to preemptively 'fix' either of them to comply with contemporary sensitivities. It is artz it is our art, and we shouldn't let others dictate what we write or do with our writings.

Later on in this interview she goes on to say that they're all morally gray. Yeah, well... I think she sucks as a director and the whole morally gray thing was bashed too hard on the nose with the grayness of the mists and washed out colors here and there in the cinematography. She should have kept it as it was in the OG play/script.

The big reason why Cairo fails overall is that she didn't pack any psycho punches. She should have, because it would have given Jon pause; it would have scared him into appeasing her.

^^^As hot as this is, in the OG script he was rough (and she liked it).

Anyway, in realtime as I write for both universes at the same time, Cairo isn't doing to well right now (mentally speaking) and according to original UVC canon I think they're supposed to be in Berlin right now (but I've got two differing storylines 💀...they might be back in France). UVC Cairo has a lot of neuroses. UVC Jon is basically the same, though he's more of a pervert/dirty minded asshole than he was onscreen, hence the art pieces.

But even with the anxious outbursts and small storms of psychosis, they'll be alright. Jon can take it. ... He's used to it 🫠

As for the other couple that I haven't published yet, I'm thinking that they might have to move out of Tennessee given their shitty ass racist laws.

Damn, you know I think I have a Jairo one that could be published rn. But I wanted to make it a 3 parter.

ETA: Also I have a slightly different canon in my head for this movie, because scenes were edited weirdly/given what they wore.

#miller's girl #cairo sweet #jonathan miller #jenna ortega #martin freeman #under virgin circumstances #jairo #teacher student #maneaters #ooooooooooh here she comes #watch out boy she'll chew you up #lol

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kaces-graham-crackers · 7 months ago

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Stirring the Quiet - (3) Sips with Stardom

Jenn Ortega x Reader

Summary: Y/N's morning is stirred when Jenna arrives before opening hours. She finds herself sipping coffee and sharing stories with the star again. Between bodyguards, family, and an unexpected promise, Y/N's day becomes more than just her regular routine—a start to a little more, one sip at a time.

Word Count: 2.9k

As I unlocked the door and stepped inside, the familiar smell of Chinese takeout filled the air. The sounds of laughter and clatter of utensils echoed from the kitchen. Kicking off my shoes and slipping into my slippers, I sighed in relief. Home. Before I could take another step, Mr. Noodles—my black-and-white tuxedo cat, complete with his signature black bowtie—greeted me by weaving between my legs, purring loudly. "Hey, Noodles," I chuckled, bending down to scratch his chin. He meowed once, flicking his tail, and followed me into the kitchen. Marcus and Caleb sat at the table, surrounded by various takeout containers. Marcus dug into his lo mein while Caleb balanced his fork in one hand and scrolled through his phone with the other. "Look who finally decided to grace us with their presence!" Marcus called out, waving his fork in the air dramatically. "Yeah, too high on your horse to join your big brothers for dinner? Caleb chimed in without even glancing up from his phone. I rolled my eyes and dropped my bag onto the floor, giving Mr. Noodles a final pat before sitting down at the table. "Whatever you say, peasants, you wouldn't believe the day I had." Marcus raised an eyebrow, grinning. "What happened? Did Tom Cruise stop by to argue with his reflection again?" Caleb snicker. "Or did Chris Hemsworth come in to try and order his post-workout protein shake?" 'Ok. So maybe I don't only keep celebrity conversations with just Wilma.' "No, I still don't know what kind of gym rat demands a coffee shop to make a protein shake," I said, grabbing some fried rice. "But actually, it was Meryl Streep. She and her manager walked in, supposedly for a meeting. And they broke into a feud over whether or not she should be having hot chocolate and a donut." Both of them looked at each other, chuckling. Marcus leaned back in his chair to scratch Mr. Noodles under him. "Meryl Streep, defending her sugar right? You go, girl!" I grinned, stuffing a dumpling in my mouth. "Yeah, his face when she chewed him out was priceless." Caleb's full attention is on me now. "What about Will Ferrell? Did he drop by and give any hints about his upcoming movie?" I shook my head. "No Will Ferrell today. But Liam Neeson came in, ordered tea and a jelly donut, and then tripped on his way out. Spilled tea all over the place." Marcus and Caleb both froze mid-bite before bursting into laughter. Marcus set his fork down, "Let me guess, he threatened the floor after that one, right?" Caleb swallowed his food, "I can just imagine him giving his famous death stare. What did you do?" "I gave him another one, free of charge," I shrugged. "The man looked so heartbroken. I couldn't let him walk out like that." They laughed again, shaking their heads in disbelief. Marcus wiped his mouth, "Man, only in your line of work do we find out Meryl Streep and Liam Neeson are out here having bad days like the rest of us."

We kept eating, trading stories about our day. Marcus talked about a guy at the gym who almost dropped a barbell trying to impress some girl. At the same time, Caleb vented about the latest office drama. While leaning over to offer the piece of chicken on my fork to Mr.Noodles, without even thinking, I casually mentioned, "Oh yeah, Jenna Ortega came in today." Marcus froze, his fork nearly dropping, while Caleb slowly lowered his phone. Both of them stared at me in studded silence. "Wait...what?" Caleb asked, voice rising. "The Jenna Ortega?" It took me a second to realize what I had just said, and I immediately felt my face heat up. Damn. "Uhh...yeah. She was just, you know, having coffee." Marcus leaned over the table, grin growing wider. "Are you seriously telling me you met Jenna Ortega and didn't freak out? Come on, you've been obsessed since she made it big on Wednesday." "I wasn't obsessed!" I protested, feeling my cheeks grow even hotter. "And it wasn't a big deal. She's just a regular person." Caleb raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "Did you...like talk to her?" I groaned, running a hand through my hair and throwing my head back. "Yeah, we talked a little. She was reading a book I loved, so we ended up geeking out about the author. She already read it, too, just revisiting it." Marcus' grin grew, looking smug. "You geeked out about a book...with her? And you're sitting here acting like it's no big deal?" I shrugged, trying to play it cool. "She's just another customer like anyone else, guys," Caleb smirked. "Uh-huh, sure. Except you're blushing right now." I could feel the heat creeping back into my face. "Am not." Marcus chuckled, shaking his head. "Our lil sis rubbing elbows with big stars. Be careful if she wants to meet us, we're totally gonna embarrass you." I groaned, covering my face. "Shut Up, Please!"

After dinner, I headed upstairs. Changing into a pair of comfy sweats and a loose T-shirt. Noodles, ever my loyal shadow, hopped onto the bed and curled into a little ball beside me as soon as I laid down. He purred, vibrating through the blankets. I grabbed my phone and, doomed scrolled through Instagram and TikTok. But no matter what I did, my mind drifted back to Jenna. The way she was there—from anxious to completely calm in the café. It was hard to match that with the version of her I'd seen on the screen. And the fact that we actually talked? That was still sinking in. Then there was the blush. That small, subtle blush when she realized she was the last one left in the café caught me off guard. Jenna Ortega, the same Jenna who played the confident, intense character on screen, blushing because she'd lost track of time in a quiet little coffee shop? It made her seem so much more...cute. I immediately slapped my face. 'No, no, not what I meant. I meant human.'" When I looked over, Noodles' eyes were wide, and his tail flickering. I must have startled him with that slap. After a moment of us watching each other, Clearly unimpressed, he huffed and circled a few times, kneading the blankets before settling back down. "Sorry Noodles...What do you think? I murmured, my fingers absentmindedly tracing shapes behind his ears. "Do you think I made a fool of myself?" He responded with a soft purr, utterly unbothered by my internal crisis. I tossed my phone onto the nightstand, my mind replaying every detail of the evening: the way Jenna smiled when I brought her the donut, her casual posture as we talked about horror novels, and, of course, the way she blushed. It was as if, for a moment, she wasn't Jenna Ortega, the actress. She was just...Jenna. A regular person who got lost in a book, just like me. I sighed, rolled onto my back, and stared at the ceiling. "I'll probably never see her again, right?" I muttered to myself. Noodles meowed softly in response, unbothered by my troubles. But a small part of me couldn't help but hope that maybe she'd come back. Noodles stretched, yawned, and moved closer, curling up beside me. I smiled at his contentment, but my mind was still swirling with thoughts. I couldn't help but wonder if this was it or if I'd get the chance to talk to her again. Maybe she'd come back. With her lingering in my mind, I eventually drifted off to sleep, contemplating the unexpected conversation that had turned my usual day at work into something unforgettable.

The next morning came far too quickly. My alarm blared, and I groaned, rolling over to smack the snooze button. Mr Noodles, the early riser, pounced on my chest and meowed directly in my face until I finally gave in. "Alright, I'm up," I muttered, pushing him off and dragging myself out of bed. After a quick shower, I threw on some clothes and grabbed my bag, ready to head back to The Daily Grind. As I patted Mr. Noodle's head one more time before slipping out the door. I headed out the door, keys in hand, and my phone buzzed as I locked up. I answered. "Hey, Y/N! You're going to have to open up today," she said, practically out of breath like she was jogging. "The twins are dragging their feet and won't put their shoes on! She yelled that last part as I pulled out of my parking spot. "Mama couldn't take them, so I got stuck on babysitter duty again. I'll be in later." I chuckled, imagining the chaos on her end. "No worries, Captain, I can hold down the fort until you come." "Thanks! Oh, and by the way..." Wilma's tone shifted to something more playful. "How did things go with Primera last night?" I paused for a moment, feeling my face heat up. Of course, Wilma was going to ask. I couldn't avoid it, but...did I really have to tell her everything? I could already picture the girl tackling me if she had to find out on her own fruition. "Y/N? You still there?" Wilma prompted, clearly sensing my hesitation. I sighed, knowing there was no way out. "It was fine. We just talked a bit more," I started, trying to keep my voice casual. "Mhm, sure," Wilma replied, egging me on. "And?" I took a deep breath, feeling the warmth creep up my neck. "Jenna...actually walked me to my car," I admitted, my voice quieter now. "And then she teased me, said I had somehow 'charmed' her like it was the most obvious thing in the world. She flashed that smile—half playful, half serious—like she knew she was messing with me. Honestly, it was impossible not to blush." "Wait, hold up, She walked you to your car?" Wilma interrupted, her voice dripping with amusement. I could practically see her grinning on the other side of the phone. "And what smile? You've already memorized her smile, huh?" I groaned, blushing. "It wasn't like that, Wilma. She was just being...friendly." Wilma laughed. "Friendly? Please. You're a natural-born flirt, and you don't even realize it. And with "that" smile? She was totally into i—" "I wasn't flirting!" I protested; the thought of Jenna's smirk made me doubt my words. "She was just messing with me." "Oh sure, because it's so easy to charm someone with those smooth barista skills," Wilma teased. "You better brace yourself when she comes back. You're in trouble, Y/N." "Yeah," I admitted, resting my head on the steering wheel. "And then her bodyguards showed up out of nowhere and scared the life out of me." Wilma's laughter echoed through the phone. "Bodyguards? Of course. This keeps getting better by the second! What else? I know there's more." I sighed, already resigned to the teasing. "She made me promise that the next time she comes by, I'd share some of the stories about some bodyguards at the café." There was a beat of silence, and then, as expected, her laughter doubled. "Y/N, you've got her hooked! Wild café stories? She's definitely coming back now. Congrats—you've got yourself a celebrity lover. You're basically famous." "Wilma, seriously," I groaned. "Please don't blow this out of proportion." "Oh, honey, it's already out of proportion," her voice full of playful mischief. "You've charmed Jenna Ortega, and now she's coming back for more. I can already see it—this is how it all starts." I rolled my eyes, fully aware of how this conversation would go. "You're impossible." Wilma snickered. "Well, look at you—handling business like a pro. Don't let the fame go to your head, mascot. Remember to stay humble when you're hanging out with Hollywood Royalty." "Yeah, yeah," I muttered, though I couldn't suppress the small laugh. "I'll try not to let it change me."

"Alright, gotta get these monsters buckled and shipped off to school. Don't have too much fun without me!" "Sure, I'll try not to, and hopefully, I'll survive the first horde," I said, grinning as I hung up the phone. As I pocketed my phone, I shook my head, a smile lingering on my lips. I was starting to get used to the teasing. I grabbed my bag and headed inside. The sun crept up, casting soft light through the windows as I unlocked the door. Stepping inside, I could still feel the leftover warmth from yesterday. The café was quiet and still, just how I liked it before the rush. I went to the back, checked in, and threw my stuff into my locker before heading to the employee area. I slipped into my all-black barista uniform—simple black pants and a fitted black shirt before getting my apron from the hook by the door. The apron was the only pop of color, a warm brown that stood out against the dark. As I tied it around my waist, I fell into work mode. First things first: the plants. I grabbed the watering can we kept under the counter, filled it up halfway, and made my way around, giving each hanging plant a good drink. The soft trickle of water and the rustle of leaves was strangely calming, making the café feel like it was waking up, too. I always made sure to take extra care of the plants; Wilma was obsessed with them. Her grandmother had a green thumb, and she followed suit. So she'd notice if even one leaf looked droopy. Next up, I headed to the kitchen to bake the day's pastries. The scent of flour and sugar greeted me as I pulled out the ingredients. I started with the croissants, carefully rolling the dough before placing them on the baking tray.

While they baked, I started on the rest of today's menu items. If a customer wanted anything else, we'd bake it fresh for them. Next, the muffins were mixed with batter and folded in fresh blueberries. The lemon scones were last—I zested the lemons, mixed the dough, and shaped them perfectly before sliding them into the oven. As they finished in the oven, the warm, sweet smells began to fill the café, and I could already imagine the regulars lining up for their favorites. Once they were done, I arranged the croissants, muffins, and scones, which were still hot, and I knew they'd be the first to go as soon as we opened the doors. I also double-checked the coffee machines, making sure they were clean and ready to brew all day long. Once the plants were watered and pastries set, I headed to the front window to hang up a new poster advertising an upcoming poetry night we were hosting. Wilma printed and designed it with bold artistic letters and a little sketch of a coffee cup next to it. I used a bit of tape to secure the edges, securing it to the front window and centered for everyone to see. As I finished up, I wiped down the tables and chairs, making sure everything was spotless. The last thing I needed was someone complaining about a sticky spot on a table or chair. I rearranged the cushions, giving the booths that extra welcoming touch. Everything was in place by the time I was done, and The Daily Grind was ready to go. The café had this lived-in feel that always made me smile. It was the kind of space that felt like a warm hug—for anyone who needed it. I poured the fresh streaming brew into a mug, fixing it up just how I liked it, feeling the warmth spreading through my hands. As I leaned against the counter, taking that first comforting sip, a familiar figure appeared outside, her bodyguards in tow. I wasn't even officially open yet, but when Jenna Ortega knocks, who am I to not answer? I walked over to unlock the door, letting her and the guards in. Jenna wasn't in her usual hoodie this time. Today, she wore a stylish see-through white tee paired with a pair of plaid pants with high heels. Looking casual but chic. "You look nice," I said, feeling the comment slip out naturally. Jenna smiled warmly. "Thanks. She added, "I have an early interview for an upcoming film...and then some other boring meetings," her tone was slightly sarcastic. I gave her a teasing look. "Boring? Sounds like you've got a rough life," I joked, rolling my eyes playfully. Jenna chuckles lightly, brushing her hair out of her face. "Yeah, it's tough being me," she shot back. I shrugged, "Well, technically, we're not open yet, but I've already got everything set up, so if you want, I can get you and your crew settled in." Jenna exchanged a quick look with her bodyguards, who nodded back at her. "Thanks, that would be great." I turned to the guards, who had positioned themselves quietly near the entrance. "So, what can I get you guys?" The taller two, who had a more serious demeanor, spoke first. "I'll take a hot coffee. Black, with two pumps of vanilla and a dash of cinnamon." The second guard, who seemed more talkative, said with a small smile, "Tea, please. With milk and one sugar. I'm more of a tea guy myself." I nodded and then looked back at Jenna, expecting her to give her order, but I beat her. "Iced coffee with caramel and whipped cream, right?" Jenna raised an eyebrow, "Not bad. I guess I'm predictable." Jenna leaned her back on the counter as I got to work preparing the drinks, glancing toward the front. "What's that about?" she asked, pointing to the poster I hung earlier. "Oh, that? We run an event for people to come to enjoy poetry or music with their coffee. It's pretty laid-back. Kind of a 'grab the mic if you feel like it' vibe." Jenna nodded, looking at it. "Noted," was all she said softly. "Here's your drinks," I called. Each drink lined up. I handed the bodyguards their drinks, and they settled into the bar area by the cash register while Jenna and I sat at one of the tables, far enough away to talk privately.

"Sorry to inconvenience you again." Jenna replied, smiling briefly before glancing out the window, her fingers tracing the rim of her drink, a little distracted. "You look like you're lost," I teased. "Something on your mind?" Jenna blinked, snapping out of her thoughts and giving me a small smile." Just thinking about the day ahead. Meetings, interviews...nothing too exciting." She glanced at me, smile falling slightly. "But I guess everyone has their own version of busy, right?" I nodded. "Yeah, but at least your 'busy' involves making movies. Not a bad gig." Jenna chuckled softly, "True, but you'd be surprised how much of it is just waiting around, talking about things you've already said a thousand times. It's not all glamorous." I tilted my head slightly, "I can imagine. It's like running a coffee shop. People think it's just pouring drinks and chatting with customers, but there is a lot of behind-the-scenes stuff no one sees." She looked up around me, a spark of intrigue in her eyes. "Yeah? Like what?" I shrugged. "You know, making sure machines are maintained, cleaned, and functional, keeping the inventory stocked, baking pastries fresh every day, And don't even get me started with dealing with the occasional difficult customer, celebrity or not." She laughed, her smile returning tenfold. "I guess we both deal with our fair share of drama, huh?" I grinned, nodding. "Exactly. but hey, at least you get to wear cool outfits. All I get is this apron." She glanced at my apron. "Well...it suits you. And besides, I'm sure you could pull off one or two if you tried." My blush crept up, but I sipped from my cup to cover it. Jenna gave me a playful smile, taking a sip of her own. "So," Jenna began, "Where's Wilma this morning? I feel like I'm missing the other half of this Daily Grind dynamic duo." "She had to drop off her siblings at school," I explained, getting comfortable. "We've been best friends since preschool. Never really been apart, even traveled across the country to open this place together." Jenna's curiosity grew. "That's amazing. No wonder you guys make a great team; you're like a hive mind." I nodded, laughing at the thought. "As terrifying as that is, we do make a great team. Wilma's practically family. We've seen each other through school and jobs. It's been an adventure." Jenna's gaze softened as she asked, "And your real family? Are they around?" I shifted slightly, setting my drink down. "My older brothers, Marcus and Caleb, live here in California with me. We share an apartment together. But the rest of my family, my parents and younger sister, are back in New York." Her eyes lit up. "Wait, you've got a younger sister too? Same here—she can be such a pain, always finding ways to bug me, but that's little sisters for, right?" Jenna chuckled softly, a mix of affection and exaggeration in her voice. "She keeps me on my toes." I chuckled, adding, "Tell me about it. Sometimes, it's a lot of deciding whether to ship her off or not, but I wouldn't trade it for anything. And then, of course, there's Mr. Noodles." Jenna's brow furrowed in confusion, gnawing at her straw. "Mr. Noodles?" I smiled, nodding. My tuxedo cat. He's the real boss of the house." Jenna gasped loudly, startling her guards. "I need to see pictures. Now." I pulled out my phone, scrolling through the dozens of photos I had of Mr. Noodles, and handed it over. Jenna's face lit up with a huge smile as she swiped through the photos. "He's adorable! Look at this gentleman; his tie is too cute! How can you ever leave him to go to work?" I shrugged, shaking my head. "It's tough, but he's got work too. He's a professional napper around the clock, so he manages without me." Jenna handed the phone back, shaking her head in return. But my brain froze; her fingers brushed against mine for a brief moment. It quite literally—shocked me. "Thanks," she said, her hand lingering just a second longer than I expected before she pulled away. "No problem," I replied, trying to calm my racing heart.

"I think I might be in love with Mr. Noodles more than anything else." she joked. I laughed as the door swung open, and Wilma burst in, a disheveled mess, panting like she had just run a marathon. "Sorry, sorry! I swear, herding those beasts into the car is like trying to wrangle lions." Jenna, her guards, and I all turned to look at Wilma, who attempted to play it cool, straightening up as she wiped her brow. "Don't mind me. I'll be in the back getting ready." But before disappearing, she shot me a cheeky smile and said, "Keep charming, mascot." I quickly drank from my empty mug, hoping the ground of the mug would swallow me whole. Jenna raised an eyebrow, "Mascot?" she asked, her voice laced with amusement. I rubbed the back of my neck, "Yeah, it's just Wilma's nickname. She has called me since we opened the café, and she says I'm the face of the place." Jenna let out a laugh, "That's cute. It suits you," she teased, her smile growing. She added, "So, do I call you Mascot now, or is that just reserved by Wilma?" I chuckled, shaking my head. "More like trademarked; she's big on original nicknames but doesn't mind if they stick." "Alright, then, I'll have to go to the drawing board." She chuckled. Jenna's guards glanced at each other, then at the phone in front of them, before standing up. "Ma'am, we've got to head out. Your manager's been calling non-stop," one of them said, holding up Jenna's phone. It read 25 missed calls and 12 growing messages. She sighed, clearly not ready to leave, but she nodded. "Alright, guess I've got to go face the music." She stood up, and I offered to top off her coffee. "You've got a busy schedule. Want a refill to help get through it?" Jenna smiled gratefully. "That would be great, thanks." I quickly refilled her cup, handing it back to her as she pulled out some cash. I frowned, confused. "You don't have to—" She cut me off with a smirk. "I never paid for my drink the other day, and I'm covering today, too. Keep the change as a tip for the drink and for treating me like an actual person." She handed me the cash, along with a piece of paper. As Jenna and her guards left the café, the door softly closed behind them. I stare down at the money. Suddenly, I felt a pinch on my arm. "Ow!" I yelped, spinning around to see Wilma scolding me. "That was to snap you out of it. Also, for not charging your celebrity crush like a regular customer," she teased, hands on her hips. I shot her a look. "I was! I was just caught up in conversation. And besides, Jenna's a good tipper." Looking back at it, I realized the paper wasn't just her receipt—it had her Instagram handle scribbled at the bottom, along with a note that read, 'Thanks for the coffee and conversations again, Slick. You still owe me some more café stories.' I stood there, dumbfounded, as Wilma yelled back, "Come on, mascot, it's opening time before I take your tip!" Snapping back to reality, I shook my head and pocketed the receipt and money. "Alright, alright, I was just counting!"

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