itsnotyouithink

[itsnotyouithink]

Coffee and Wet Tees

Pairing: Jenna Ortega x fem!Reader/OC

word count: 8.5k

warnings: slight smut, lots of vulgar language, idk how to write

Today was like any other day—if any other day meant walking the streets of LA, trying your best to get your long (short, 5’1”) legs from your apartment to the coffee shop where your besties, Mark and Sarah, had been waiting for the past twenty minutes. Why am I twenty—more like thirty— minutes late, you ask? Well, let’s rewind about fifteen minutes, when I was only five—okay, ten— minutes past our meeting time.

I was casually strolling through the streets, headphones in, avoiding eye contact and people in general, quietly singing along to the best song ever—Naked in Manhattan. My world was chill, until this tiny tornado of a human being, who somehow was even shorter than me, ran smack into me. Her coffee splashed everywhere, freezing me in my tracks.

I looked down at my now-soaked shirt. Then up at her. Then back down at my shirt. Finally, up at her again. What else could I say?

“I didn’t know we were doing a wet tee-shirt competition today,” I said, deadpan.

“Oh my god, I’m—I’m so, so sorry!” she stammered, her hands fluttering around as if she could magically undo the mess.

And yeah, sure, I could’ve been pissed. This was one of my favorite shirts. It was just a plain white tee, but it fit like a dream, which is rare when you’ve got no boobs and stand at a solid 5’1”. But instead of yelling, all I could do was stand there with my nipples now hard as diamonds from the sudden chill, looking back down, then up again.

“Oh my god, no, I’m sorry! I wasn’t paying attention. Are you okay?” I said, trying to sound like I wasn’t mildly panicking. It was my way of saying, watch it, asshole, but y’know, politely. You just had to squint a little to hear that part.

She shook her head, her cheeks flushing beneath a pair of oversized sunglasses. “No, I should be apologizing. I’m so sorry. Here, uhm…” She started taking off her cardigan, and as she did, I took a second to study her face. She looked… familiar. Like, really familiar.

Before I could figure out why, she handed me the cardigan.

“Here, take this. You’ll get cold,” she said, offering it like some sort of peace offering. I hesitated for a second, before accepting it. Freezing nipples weren’t exactly part of today’s look.

“Uh, thanks,” I muttered, slipping it on. The fabric was soft, expensive. It even smelled expensive— like vanilla and something woody. She smiled a little awkwardly, her dimples flashing. Dimples that were too cute to ignore.

Wait. Where do I know her from?

But instead of figuring it out, we both just stood there for a second too long, awkward energy radiating between us.

“Well, I’m kind of running late…” I started, clearing my throat.

“Oh! Right, yeah. Okay. I’m really sorry again,” she said, her voice full of genuine apology. She gave me this sheepish smile, and I couldn’t help but notice how damn charming she looked, even behind those sunglasses.

“Don’t worry about it. And thanks for the sweater,” I replied, offering a half-smile.

“Keep it, it’s the least I could do.” She gave a small wave, and before I could say anything else, she turned left and started walking away.

I watched her go, my mind still swirling. Why does she look so familiar?

But I didn’t have time to stand around wondering, so I turned right and headed to the café, now power-walking like I was in the freaking Olympics. That’s how I ended up racing to this dumb café that was probably going to charge me ungodly prices for mediocre coffee that’ll just make me want to die. But of course, I’d end up tipping 120% because the cashier smiled at me. Curse being gay.

Once I got to the café, Mark and Sarah were already deep in their usual debate. I slid into the seat next to them like I’d just stepped out for a quick bathroom break. Honestly, they were so wrapped up in their conversation, I doubted they even noticed I’d arrived.

“No way in hell do you seriously think Camila ‘does she get this wet for you’ Cabello—oh hey, Bella— is better than Sabrina?!” Mark slipped in that casual greeting as if he hadn’t just dropped the most chaotic lyric of the century.

“Uh, yeah,” Sarah shot back, “way better than that blonde bitch who couldn’t even hold a gay man down.”

I snorted. “What the hell are you guys even talking about?”

They finally turned to me, blinking as if they’d only just realized I was sitting there.

“Bella,” Mark said, all serious now, “Sabrina or Camila?”

“Neither,” I replied dreamily. “Chappell. Obviously.” What a woman.

“You’re useless,” Sarah muttered, rolling her eyes. I smirked. Duh, it’s in the name—useless lesbian.

“And what the hell happened to your shirt?”

“Oh, this little thing?” I gestured to my now-dried, stained tee. “The love of my life wanted to wish me luck on my long journey here… by giving me her coffee.”

“By spilling it all over you?”

“Through osmosis.” I shot back.

“Love of your life??”

“Yeah,” I sighed, leaning back in my chair. “She was so cute. I couldn’t really see her face, but she had these adorable dimples and freckles.” I sighed again, even more dramatically this time. I love being gay.

“So… you’re all set on your coffee fix then?” Sarah asked, deadpan.

“Yup,” I said with a grin. “I’m good.”

“You’re an idiot,” she replied, shaking her head. I rolled my eyes but smiled. This was routine.

“Nothing’s ruining my day, though. Ask me why.”

“Why?”

“I get to work with Jenna Ortega,” I whispered her name reverently, “tomorrow.”

“Wait, what?!”

“When did this happen? Why didn’t you tell us?!”

“I did tell you, but you two were too busy planning your Coachella outfits to actually listen to me.” I shrugged, acting all nonchalant. “Bitches.”

Sarah’s eyes narrowed. “So what do you mean ‘work with her’?”

“I’m interviewing her for the Beetlejuice Beetlejuice press tour.” I leaned back, savoring the moment.

“O. M. G. I’m so jealous. I bet she smells amazing,” Sarah said, her eyes wide with faux reverence.

“Creep,” I muttered, but honestly, I was thinking the same thing. I bet she smelled just like this cardigan—expensive, light, like a cool breeze with a hint of sandalwood.

“Sorry, not sorry,” Sarah shrugged, unapologetic.

“So, what are you going to ask her?” Mark chimed in, looking genuinely curious.

“Is she gay? Does she have a girlfriend? And will she marry me?” I deadpanned, holding up my fingers like it was the obvious move.

“You dumb bitch.” Sarah snorted. HA, sorry, I’m gay.

“Okay, okay, jk, jk,” I said, waving it off. “I’ve just got some boring generic questions Lisa prepped for me. Y’know, the usual—what was it like preparing for the role, how did she connect to the character, blah blah blah. She’s probably heard them so many times she could hand out pre-written index cards with her answers.”

We all laughed, but my mind kept drifting back to coffee girl. Where had I seen her before? Why did she smell so good? And what were the chances I’d get to see those adorable dimples again?

“Earth to gay bitch,” Sarah’s voice cut through my daydream.

I blinked. “Huh?”

“Mark asked if you were ready to head out,” she said, smirking like she knew exactly where my brain had been wandering.

“Oh, uh, yeah.” I quickly grabbed my bag, glancing back at the barista—still cute—and left a Benjamin on the table before we all stood to leave.

Later that night, with Mark and Sarah passed out in the guest room, I stood in front of the mirror, making sure my outfit for tomorrow would be nothing short of perfect. Jenna’s stylist, Enrique— bless that man—had been dressing her in these Beetlejuice-inspired looks. So, obviously, I had to show up with a little… inspiration of my own.

And with this body? The outfit was tea. I had on a pinstriped shirt that was giving office siren, paired with matching trousers that made my waist look snatched. Finishing it all off with a pair of Kate’s. What did Rihanna say again? I forget, but the outfit was definitely outfitting.

I struck a few poses, turned this way and that in the mirror, and after about a hundred selfies, I finally shed the clothes and made my way to bed.

For half a second, I debated shaving—like a teenage girl getting ready for a 1-D concert.

As I settled under the covers, my mind wandered back to coffee girl. Those cute freckles that spanned her face, the smell of her sweater, the softness of her voice. Who the hell was she? My brain tried to place her, but nothing clicked. Eh, whatever. This was LA—odds were good I’d bump into her again.

I closed my eyes, her dimples still lingering in my thoughts as sleep finally pulled me under.

You know that feeling when you’re exhausted but can’t sleep because tomorrow’s the first day of school? That’s exactly how I slept—in and out, not really sure if I was dreaming or hallucinating. But somehow, I woke up energized, ready to take on the day.

As I do every morning, I spent the first hour of my day scrolling through TikTok, laughing at the insane content that pops up on my feed, and burning through whatever brain cells I had left.

Finally, I opened the group chat with Mark and Sarah:

Mark: Bitch wake the fuck up.

Sarah: Hoe get up.

Mark: Is this bitch still asleep?

Bella: no bitches i been up

Sarah: Me when I lie.

Yep. That was us—three idiots who would blindly, but gladly follow each other off a cliff. And I loved them for it.

I finally mustered up the willpower to get out of bed and face the cruel world, dragging myself to the bathroom to start getting ready. A few hours later—closer to three, if we’re being honest—I was fully dressed and ready for my big break. I was going to charm their pants off.

Walking through the heavy double doors of the studio, my anxiety kicked in, the kind that creeps up on you at the worst moment. I headed to the front desk, flashed my press credentials at the receptionist, and she pointed me toward the interview room.

“I love your outfit, by the way,” she said with a friendly smile.

Internally, I flipped my hair. I know. “Oh, uh, thank you!” I managed, looking down shyly as a blush crept up.

Cursing myself as I walked away, I took a deep breath. I am not nervous. I, Bella Martinez, do not get nervous. I glanced at my phone—11:29. Right on time.

Wiping my sweaty palms on my pants, I took another breath, threw on my best smile, and opened the door.

Charm their pants off, I repeated to myself. But as soon as I locked eyes with the most gorgeous person I’d ever seen, gay panic was what I got. For a split second, I thought I saw surprise flash across her face, but I was too busy staring at her face to really process it. Pick up your jaw, Bella.

When I’d finally finished imagining our wedding in my head, I plastered on a polite smile and looked toward Catherine O’Hara and Winona Ryder. Right. They’re here too. Clearing my throat, I tried again, gathering every ounce of professionalism I had left.

“Hello, everyone,” I said with as much confidence as I could muster. “It’s so nice to meet you all.” Why did I sound like a straight-up valley girl? Jenna gave me a quick once-over. Oh God, does she hate me already?

I walked closer and extended my hand. “I’m Bella,” I introduced myself.

First, Winona. “Winona,” she said warmly, shaking my hand.

Next up was Catherine. “Catherine,” she said, giving me a firm handshake.

And then it was Jenna. My heart practically leapt out of my chest as I stepped toward her. Her smile was small, unreadable, and I could feel my pulse in my throat. She extended her hand. Please don’t be clammy. Please don’t be clammy.

“Jenna,” she said, her voice soft but cool. Her hand was cold, but it sent a spark of something through me.

“Bella,” I stammered, almost forgetting my own name. “Nice to meet you.” I glanced nervously from her to Winona and Catherine, hoping I didn’t look like I was about to pass out.

I took a step back, finally putting a little distance between me and the human heart attack in front of me. Okay. Time to sit down and act like a professional.

As I went to sit in my chair, praying I didn’t miss it, I realized everyone was waiting for me to say something. Oh right. I had to actually talk.

“First off, you ladies look absolutely stunning,” I said, trying to channel my inner smooth operator.

“Oh my goodness, so do you!” Winona said with a bright smile.

“Yeah, you’re really on theme here, aren’t ya?” Catherine added, her voice dripping with playful charm.

I nearly melted on the spot but managed to joke back, “Oh, this? Just grabbed the first thing in my closet,” waving it off like it wasn’t a carefully planned outfit I spent hours obsessing over.

Jenna hadn’t said much yet, and my anxiety began to creep back in. Does she think I’m weird? Or worse, a creep? I glanced at her, but she just smiled again, that same small, unreadable expression that made my heart race.

Clearing my throat, I shuffled the cards in my hands, ready to fire off the same set of questions they’d already been asked about a dozen times before. But for some reason, I felt compelled to say something else first. Something that had been sitting at the back of my mind.

“And before we start,” I began, glancing over at Jenna with nothing but sincerity, “I just want to say —you are Latina enough.”

There was a flicker of something on her face—surprise, maybe?

Winona and Catherine both let out soft, “Aww’s,” at the moment, and Jenna shifted in her seat. Her face now scrunched up with gratitude.

“Can I—” she started, and before I could even register what was happening, she was standing up.

Instinctively, I stood up too, though I had no idea why or what was coming next. Then she stepped closer, and I realized—oh God—she was going for a hug. God, kill me now.

“Yeah, of course!” I said quickly, trying to act casual as she wrapped her arms around me. Her hold was warm and soft, and it lingered just a little longer than it should have for two people who had just met. I awkwardly encircled her back, trying not to completely short-circuit.

Please, if you’re up there, strike me down right now.

As she pulled away, though, I caught it. A scent. Something so familiar it sent my brain into overdrive. Wait—why does she smell like—? But I didn’t have time to dwell on it because all my focus had to go toward making sure my legs didn’t give out from under me.

And, because I’m a disaster, I blurted out, “You smell really nice.” Seriously, just burn me to a crisp.

Jenna chuckled softly, “Thank you… it’s Dior.”

Rich. “Oh, fancy,” I replied, trying to play it cool as we sat back down.

I forced myself to focus as I moved through the questions, reading off the cards and trying not to trip over my own words. Meanwhile, Jenna answered with this effortless grace, while I was still over here trying to recover from that hug. It lingered in my mind, like a warm imprint I couldn’t shake.

After we’d gone through the standard questions and were about to wrap up, I remembered Lisa’s genius idea.

“Okay, these aren’t questions, but before we finish, I thought we could play a little game.” I smiled, but inside I was screaming.

“Ohhh!” They all said in unison. I’m sure it was out of politeness, not actual excitement. Dammit, Lisa.

“So,” I continued, trying to sound confident, “since Beetlejuice Beetlejuice is a sequel and we’re working with a 30-year time gap, I thought it’d be fun to play a game where we take slang words and phrases from back then and translate them into today’s slang!”

They all nodded along, intrigued but clearly not quite sure where this was going.

“For example,” I said, warming up, “the word fly. Back then, it meant cool or stylish. What would we say today?”

Jenna thought for a second, then smiled. “Dope.”

Catherine raised her hand like she was buzzing in on a game show. “I’d say fire.”

“Exactly!” I said, grinning. “See, you’ve got it.”

I glanced down at my cards. “Alright, next one—rad. What’s the modern equivalent of that?”

Winona leaned forward. “I’m going with lit.”

Catherine laughed. “Oh, definitely sick.”

Jenna nodded, clearly enjoying herself. “Yeah, lit feels right for that.”

“Alright,” I said, feeling more confident now. “How about bogus? That one was used for something unfair or ridiculous.”

Catherine jumped in right away. “That’s whack these days, right?”

Winona nodded, adding, “Or just trash.”

“Right!” I said, laughing along. “Trash works. Okay, last one—gnarly. It could be used for anything extreme or intense, good or bad.”

Jenna smiled, clearly thinking it over. “That’s got to be wild now, right?”

Winona tilted her head. “I’d say epic.”

Catherine grinned. “I still use gnarly, so I’m keeping that one.”

We all laughed, and I nodded. “Fair enough. Some words just never go out of style.”

Apparently, I was the last one to interview them, so once we wrapped, we all gathered our things and prepared to leave.

“Thank you all so much again,” I said, offering one last smile. “And congrats on the movie.”

We exchanged goodbyes. My eyes lingered on Jenna a little longer than they should have. They were already back in their own bubble, talking amongst themselves. I waved and thanked the crew on my way out, feeling both relieved and weirdly energized.

As soon as I stepped away, the overthinking hit me like a freight train. How dumb did I sound? Did I ramble? I couldn’t wait to watch the video and cringe at all my awkward moments. I headed for the bathroom—figured my clammy hands weren’t going to fix themselves.

Sitting in the stall, I pressed my hands to my face, replaying every second of the interview. I must’ve sounded so stupid. The edits were going to be hard to watch, I already know it.

The sound of a toilet flushing snapped me out of my spiral. Crap. I’ve been in here too long. I didn’t want whoever was out there thinking I’d been in here for a number two situation. Flushing for good measure, I walked out to wash my still-clammy hands.

As I looked up into the mirror, my stomach dropped. Jenna. Of course.

She was at the sink, washing her hands too. Her lips curved slightly, not like the polite, unreadable smile from earlier, but something… different. Something more playful. My heart kicked into overdrive. The interview was over; she didn’t have to talk to me now. So I smiled back, awkwardly, and we washed our hands in silence.

Except it didn’t really feel silent. The air between us buzzed with something unspoken. I could feel her eyes on me, watching. Glancing back up at the mirror, I caught her staring. Her gaze traveled up and down, lingering just a little too long. Was she—no. No way. Was she checking me out? Get a grip, Bella. She probably thinks the outfit was too much.

But there was something in her eyes, a glint I couldn’t quite place. Something that felt… deliberate.

Jenna turned toward me fully now, her movements smooth and unhurried as she shut off the water. “Hello again,” she said, her voice low, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Bella.” She remembered my name.

I fumbled with the faucet, shutting off the water far less gracefully than she had. “Hi,” I managed, clearing my throat. “Uh, hi, Jenna.”

She didn’t say anything right away, just watched me, her gaze steady and calm, like she was waiting for something. The silence stretched, heavy but not uncomfortable. More like anticipation. And then —

She took a step toward me. Slow, deliberate.

My heart lurched in my chest. I chuckled nervously, instinctively taking a step back, but there was nowhere to go. My back hit the sink. I could feel the heat rising in my face, my pulse in my throat. This cannot be happening.

Jenna’s eyes never left mine as she moved closer, each step deliberate, like a predator closing in on its prey. There was something about the way she moved—confident, like she was in total control of the moment. I couldn’t help the nervous laugh that escaped me. This looked like the start of a porno.

She stopped right in front of me, so close that there was barely an inch between us. My breath caught. She reached up, her fingers brushing against the lapel of my shirt, playing with it lightly.

“I like this shirt,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes locked on mine. “You look really good in it.”

My mind went blank. Thank you, gods, for not killing me. Or maybe they had, because surely this was heaven. There was no way in hell this was real.

I could feel her knuckles grazing my collar, her touch sending sparks across my skin. Heat rushed through me, pooling in my stomach. “Oh. Uhm. Thank you,” I managed, my voice shakier than I’d like. She was so close. If I leaned forward just a little, we’d be pressed together, hip to hip.

Her gaze flickered down to my lips for the briefest second, then back to my eyes. The tension in the air was thick, almost suffocating. My heart pounded so loud I was sure she could hear it. Her hand lingered at the collar of my shirt, the heat from her touch spreading through me like wildfire.

Jenna’s smirk deepened, her fingers brushing against the fabric one last time before she stepped back, the space between us suddenly feeling too big.

“See you around, Bella,” she said, her voice soft but teasing, like she knew exactly what she’d done.

I blinked, still reeling, trying to catch my breath as she turned and walked out of the bathroom, leaving me standing there, hands shaking, pulse racing.

Okay. Definitely not a hallucination.

“BITCHES, YOU WOULD NOT BELIEVE WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED!”

I was in my car now, somehow having blacked out and crawled my way there after the whole bathroom incident. Mark and Sarah were on FaceTime, both looking startled by my outburst.

“Bitch, what?!”

“This better be good—I was watching Love Island,” Sarah grumbled, but even she was intrigued.

How was I even supposed to explain what had just transpired? “So basically… Jenna Ortega almost fucked me in the bathroom.”

“WHAT?!” they both screamed in unison, their faces now a mix of shock and disbelief.

“You’re fucking joking.”

“Yes! But also no,” I started, struggling to gather my thoughts. “Okay, so I was in the bathroom, minding my own business, and next thing I know, Jenna was there and she had me cornered—”

“OH MY GOD.”

“Yeah! She was touching me—well, okay, she was touching my shirt, but she was basically on me!”

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”

“I KNOW! And she said she liked my shirt. Like, she literally said, ‘You look really good in it.’”

Sarah clutched her chest dramatically. “Are you serious? Did you pass out?!”

“I almost did!” I said, half laughing, half panicking again as I relived the moment. “I’m telling you, it was like something out of a fanfic! She was right there, smirking, touching my shirt like it was nothing!”

Mark screamed into the phone. “You have to tell us everything—what else happened?! Did she—”

“No, no, she just… she complimented me, said I looked good, and then she walked away! Like she didn’t just almost send me into cardiac arrest.”

Sarah let out a long breath. “I… I have no words. You win. You officially win at life.”

Now back at home, I sat on the couch, staring into the abyss. Someone must have drugged me. That whole bathroom thing could not have happened. There was no way. Maybe I was losing it. What are the early signs of dementia? Because I was definitely showing them.

I seriously needed to get off TikTok. I would never stay up past 10 p.m. again. This was it. I was officially broken. As I mentally prepared to admit myself to some kind of facility, my phone rang. Another call from the freaks.

“Bel, bitch, we’re going out tonight.”

“I can’t,” I groaned, sinking deeper into the couch.

“Why not?”

“I need sleep. I think I’m going crazy.”

“No, this is fate. We always knew you were destined for greater things.”

“Yeah, destined for death by gay.” I quipped back.

“You’re dramatic… Anyway, pregame at your place?”

I sighed, figuring that going out might at least give me a temporary distraction from the ongoing Jenna-induced breakdown. But even then, I could still feel where she’d touched me, like a burn, scorched into my skin.

“Yeah, sure. Pregame here,” I said, defeated.

“Where are we going?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

“WeHo, duh,” Mark said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. And, yeah, we were all raging homos, but maybe this time they’d suggest something different. Honestly, I’m reconsidering it. Being gay has brought me nothing but hardship.

“Fine, fine. Meet at 8?”

“Yasss! I’ll bring the drinks.”

By the time 8 rolled around, I had already watched at least seven different edits of the interview I did earlier. Thirsty bitches, I thought, scrolling through. Most of the edits were Jenna-focused, of course, but some included me awkwardly standing in the background. Sarah had sent a few to me with a text demanding, “LOOK AT THE COMMENTS, BITCH!”

I opened one of the videos and scrolled down to check the replies, fully expecting everyone to be drooling over Jenna—which, yeah, totally valid. But to my surprise, some of the comments were… about me.

Comment Section:

who’s the interviewer tho,,, why she kinda fine ok but the interviewer lowkey cute Jenna’s over here being hot as hell, but the interviewer… Can someone drop @ of the interviewer like now pls Does anyone else think she looks nervous af but in a hot way? the interviewer is literally all of us trying not to pass out that awkward girl energy is hitting omg the interviewer blushing for real, how cute is that nah but the way Jenna looked at her, excuse me what’s happening here wait… Jenna Ortega literally couldn’t stop staring at her. I’m not imagining this, right???

I blinked at the screen, scrolling through the comments in disbelief. Me? Cute? Okay, maybe not full- on delusional yet. My phone buzzed again, pulling me out of my thoughts.

Mark: “Bitch, we’re 5 minutes away! Get ready to party!”

I took a deep breath, setting my phone aside. Alright. Maybe I was fine. Probably fine.

But as I stood in front of the mirror, touching the spot where Jenna had brushed my lapel, I couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight might just be even crazier than the day I’d had.

“Okay, but why aren’t we drunk yet? Let’s go, hoes!” Sarah declared, marching forward with determination.

I hung back for a second, laughing at the absurdity of the day. It had already been ridiculous, and knowing my luck, things were only going to get more chaotic.

Once we finally made it past the lines (seriously, these lines), we headed straight for the bar. As usual, I was nominated to get the drinks because, according to Mark and Sarah, it made perfect sense for the shortest person to try and flag down the bartender. Genius.

After what felt like an eternity of trying to get someone’s attention, we finally placed our order.

Sarah magically appeared next to me just as the bartender started pouring.

“Bella,” she said with a grin, “looks like you’ve got a fan.”

I blinked. “What?”

She tilted her chin toward the other end of the bar. I followed her gaze to a brunette, about my height, maybe a bit taller. And, of course, she was gorgeous.

“What are you waiting for? Buy her a drink!” Sarah nudged me, like this was the easiest thing in the world.

“What! No, she’s probably looking at someone else,” I muttered, turning my back to the girl, but Sarah kept watching.

“Dude, I’m literally looking at her right now, and she’s definitely got her eyes on you.”

I sighed. Why does the world hate me? Talking to women was so easy in my head. Theoretically. In real life? A total disaster waiting to happen.

“Okay, fine. But if she’s straight, I’m punching you.”

“Bells, we’re in a gay club.”

“That’s never stopped the heteros.”

But, drink in hand, I made my way over to her, trying to saunter but more likely wobbling in my attempt to seem smooth.

“Hey,” I croaked, my voice cracking just slightly. Hopefully the music was loud enough to cover it.

The girl smiled at me, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Can I buy you a drink?” I offered, doing my best to sound like I had my shit together.

“Only if you give me your name first,” she said, leaning in closer.

“Oh, uh, right. I’m Bella.” I stuck out my hand, instantly regretting how awkward that was, but she looked down at it with a smirk before taking it, her touch warm and soft—a stark contrast to the cold hands I’d shaken earlier.

“Bella,” she repeated, like she was testing it out. “I’m Alex.”

“That’s a pretty name,” I said, feeling a small surge of confidence. “So, what can I get you?”

“Surprise me.”

I took a sip of my drink, then nudged it toward her. She raised an eyebrow but took a sip anyway.

“You like?” I asked, trying to play it cool.

She smiled and nodded, so I waved down the bartender and ordered another.

“So, Bella,” Alex began, leaning in again, “are you going for Beetlejuice, or…?”

I laughed for real this time, feeling the tension ease. “Yeah, I am actually. Is it that obvious?”

“Maybe a little,” she teased. “But it’s cute. You’re cute.”

Her words hung in the air as she leaned in just a little closer, and I could feel the warmth of her breath against my cheek. But before I could respond, I felt a slight nudge from behind me.

I turned my head quickly to see who it was and—no fucking way. Standing behind me, smirking the same way she had back in the bathroom, was Jenna.

I stared at her, wide-eyed, waiting for Ashton Kutcher to pop out of nowhere and tell me I’d been punk’d. But no, this was real. She was here.

We stared at each other until—right—Alex. She cleared her throat, snapping me back to reality. I smiled awkwardly at Jenna before turning around to face Alex again. But before I could even begin to apologize, I felt Jenna tap me on the shoulder once more. Fuck. Now I was stuck, sandwiched between two goddesses with no idea where to look or who to pay attention to.

Jenna spoke first. “Bella. Hello again.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but Alex beat me to it. “You two know each other?” she asked, looking between us. I guess she hadn’t yet recognized the girl who was literally plastered everywhere. I turned to her and nodded, words completely escaping me.

Jenna stepped in smoothly. “We do, and she was just about to buy me a drink.” She smiled, her voice sweet but loaded with subtext.

I was?

“That’s funny,” Alex shot back, not missing a beat. “Because she just bought me a drink.”

Jenna’s smirk didn’t waver. “Great. Now you can leave.”

What the fuck was happening and where are the cameras?

Alex looked at me, clearly expecting me to say something, but all I could do was blink like an idiot. “Whatever,” she muttered, grabbing her drink and walking away with a huff.

I turned back to Jenna, who was now standing there with her full attention on me, that same playful smirk still on her face. “Jenna. Hi,” I managed, my voice betraying me. Smooth, Bella. “What— what’re you doing… here?”

“At the club?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. I nodded dumbly. Yeah, Bella, because it’s so weird for someone to be at a club on a Friday night.

She chuckled softly. “I’m here with a couple of friends. But then I saw you and… couldn’t resist.”

I gulped audibly, like something out of a cartoon. Did someone roofie me? There was no way this was actually happening.

“Oh, that’s… cool, me too,” I said, my voice pathetically small. Jenna didn’t respond right away. She just kept that smirk on her face, like she knew exactly how much she was unraveling me from the inside.

“So, what can I get you?” I offered, trying to steady myself.

She didn’t answer. Instead, she hooked her finger under my vest, tugging me closer until there was barely any space between us. Her finger lingered there, a light touch that burned through the fabric.

“Take a shot with me?” she asked, her voice low and smooth.

I could only nod, completely under her spell. Somehow, through my haze, I managed to flag down the bartender. How is no one noticing that Jenna Ortega is standing in the middle of this bar?

The tequila shots arrived, and we clinked our glasses together. I threw mine back, the liquid burning down my throat, and fought hard to suppress a cough. A little lime juice dribbled down my chin, and before I could even wipe it away, Jenna was leaning in, impossibly close.

Her thumb brushed across my chin, catching the drip. She didn’t break eye contact as she sucked her thumb, her eyes dark and unreadable. My breath hitched, the heat from her touch spreading through me like wildfire. My skin prickled, my heart raced, and I felt a heady swirl of dizziness.

Jenna didn’t wait. She grabbed my wrist, leading me through the crowd toward the back of the club. My heart was pounding, and I felt like my legs might give out. We reached a shadowy corner, and before I could even register what was happening, she pushed me gently against the wall, her body so close to mine I could feel the heat radiating off her.

She looked at me, her eyes wide, innocent but with an unmistakable intensity. Doe-eyed yet impossibly seductive all at once. Her gaze locked onto mine, and the air between us thickened, heavy with tension.

Without a word, she leaned in, her lips capturing mine in a kiss that sent electricity shooting through every nerve in my body.

My body reacted before my brain could even process what was happening. I kissed her back, just as needy, pulling her closer, my arms wrapping around her shoulders. Her hands were firm on my waist, grounding me, but at the same time, setting every nerve in my body on fire. The kiss deepened, her lips soft but urgent, and I could feel her hands climbing higher, her fingers grazing the bare skin of my hip. I fought the shudder threatening to take over, desperate not to break the contact.

This is real, I thought, my mind spinning. I’d dreamed about this, fantasized about what it would feel like to have her like this. And now that it was actually happening, I had no idea what I was supposed to do.

But Jenna—like she could read my mind—took control, as if she’d ever lost it to begin with. She shifted, her lips leaving mine to trail slowly down my jaw, pressing warm, sloppy kisses along my neck, each one lingering just enough to send heat flooding through me. I swallowed hard, trying to keep myself steady, but when her lips brushed just under my ear, her breath hot and teasing, a jolt of electricity shot straight down my spine.

“I’ve been wanting to do this since you walked into that room,” she whispered, her voice low, sending another wave of heat through me.

At her words, I couldn’t hold back the soft sound that escaped my throat, and from the way her lips curled into a smile against my skin, she clearly didn’t mind.

“You sound so pretty,” she murmured, her voice coaxing more out of me. “I could barely focus during that interview.” God—how was I supposed to stay upright when she was saying things like that?

“All I could think about was your lips,” she added, leaning back in to kiss me again, slower this time, like she was savoring every second. “And how good you looked.” Her hand slid up under my vest, the heat of her skin on mine making me shiver. “And how badly I wanted to touch you.”

Before I could respond, she nudged her thigh between mine, and I couldn’t help it—the moan escaped before I even realized it. She pressed against me, her thigh firm between my legs, and our eyes locked, both of us breathless.

“I’ve…” I started, my voice shaky as I finally managed to get words out between the gasps. “I’ve thought about this… like way too many times.”

Her lips quirked into a smirk, and she leaned in again, brushing her lips against mine before pulling back just enough to look me in the eye. “Good.”

After that, it was a flurry of kisses—needy, urgent—hands grabbing, tugging at clothes, lingering touches that left a trail of fire along my skin. We barely made it into the Uber. I fired off a quick text to Mark and Sarah, but there was no time to wait for a reply. Jenna’s hand was already on my thigh, pulling my attention away from my phone, her dark eyes locking onto mine, a silent challenge between us.

I glanced at her, then back at the driver. Seriously, how has no one managed to notice Jenna freaking Ortega?

I took her hand, squeezing it as if to calm the electricity sparking between us. But even as I tried to keep things under control, her fingers wandered higher, slipping beneath the hem of my skirt. It was impossible not to react as her touch moved closer to lace, heat flooding my body with each inch she closed.

“Jenna,” I whispered, breathless, halfheartedly trying to stop her while silently hoping she wouldn’t. Her fingers teased, exploring in the brief moments we had, while I checked my phone. Two minutes until we arrived. Those were the longest two minutes of my life.

The second the car stopped, I barely waited for the wheels to still before we jumped out, breathless and laughing, thanking the driver before nearly sprinting to my door. My hands shook as I fumbled with my keys, trying not to drop them in the excitement.

As soon as the door closed behind us, Jenna pushed me against it, hard. But this time, there was no need for caution, no one around to interrupt us. The tension exploded between us as we crashed together, her body pressing into mine, forcing me back with every kiss, every touch.

Her hands moved in a frenzy, tugging at the waistband of my skirt, fingers tangling in my hair as she pulled my head back, making me gasp. The sound escaped me, raw and uncontrolled, as her lips traced down the curve of my neck, slow, deliberate. Each kiss left a mark, each touch igniting my skin until I was trembling beneath her.

She kissed her way down, lower and lower, until she reached my chest, her mouth hot against my skin. I was lost in the feeling of her—until it stopped. Blinking, I looked down to see her staring up at me, her eyes burning with something wild, intense.

“I’ve been wanting to do this,” she murmured, her fingers working at the buttons of my vest, slowly, one by one, freeing me.

She inhaled sharply when the fabric fell away, revealing me. The way her eyes darkened sent a surge of confidence through me. I pulled her up, needing to feel her lips on mine again, kissing her harder this time, more sure of myself. I nipped at her bottom lip, just hard enough to make her hiss. But she only smirked, the heat between us intensifying as she leaned back in.

It was a game—a struggle to see who could undress the other first, hands pulling at buttons and zippers, skin brushing skin. We moved together in sync, never breaking contact as we stumbled toward my room. The alcohol still buzzed faintly in my veins, but I was no longer drunk. No, I was completely, vividly aware of every single moment.

Once we reached my bed, there was no need for words. It was a silent agreement, a connection that needed no explanation. The rest of the night unfolded like a rhythm, a dance between our bodies, guided by soft sighs and the steady beat of the headboard against the wall.

Her touch was everywhere—hot and gentle, rough and soothing all at once. Fingers tracing lines across my skin, exploring every inch as if memorizing the shape of me. Our bodies tangled together, moving as one, my legs wrapped around her as she pressed into me, our breaths merging, shallow and desperate. I couldn’t tell where her body ended and mine began. We were so intertwined, it was as if we had melted into each other, like molten metal, shaping and shifting with each movement.

The night became a blur of soft gasps and heated cries, of lips pressed together in breathless kisses, fingers tangled in hair, skin slick with sweat. My senses were overwhelmed by her—her scent, her taste, the warmth of her skin against mine. Each touch, each sound was amplified, the world narrowing down to just us, in this moment.

Her name slipped from my lips in a whisper, as though it had always been there, waiting to be spoken. And every time I called her name, she answered with a touch, a kiss, a moan that sent sparks shooting through me.

Time lost all meaning. There was nothing but the heat of her, the rhythm of our bodies, the quiet intensity that pulsed between us. And in the stillness that followed, when our breaths finally slowed and we lay tangled together, I realized that something had shifted. The line between fantasy and reality had blurred, and for once, I didn’t care to know where one ended and the other began.

I woke up to the sound of my phone buzzing incessantly, ready to curse out whoever dared to wake me from such a delicious dream. God, it had been so vivid. I could practically still feel the slick between my legs. Groaning, I reached over and checked the time. 7 a.m.? On a Saturday? And of course, the name flashing across the screen was Sarah.

I let it go straight to voicemail. There was no way I was dealing with her this early. I sank back into my pillow, desperate to drift off again and force my brain to finish that dream. Just five more minutes…

But just as I was about to slip back into bliss, I heard the unmistakable sound of a toilet flushing. Sarah? Why would she call me if she was already here? Confused, I frowned, wondering why she wouldn’t just barge into my room and yell at me like she usually did.

The door clicked open.

I opened my mouth, ready to yell at her for waking me up so damn early—when the words died in my throat.

Standing there, leaning against the doorframe with that grin, was the person from my dream. Not Sarah. Jenna.

I blinked, staring at her in pure disbelief. My brain scrambled to piece together last night and the very real possibility that it wasn’t, in fact, a dream. Jenna stood there, watching me with that same knowing smile, the one that haunted me all night.

“Good morning,” she said, breaking the silence, her voice soft but teasing.

I just gawked at her, my brain still struggling to process the reality of the situation. Was I still dreaming? I looked at her more closely, taking her in. She was wearing coffee girl’s cardigan, and nothing else but bare legs and confidence.

Holy shit.

“Good morning,” I finally managed, my voice cracking slightly. “Nice sweater.”

“Thank you,” she replied with a hint of something playful in her voice. “It’s really cozy.”

I couldn’t help but stare at her again. The sweater draped over her like it was custom-made, hanging perfectly over her shoulders. And because I’m me, and I apparently can’t go a day without saying something awkward, I blurted out, “Thanks. A girl gave it to me.”

Goddammit, Bella. I cringed internally, mentally smacking myself. Why would you say that?

Jenna’s eyebrow quirked, her smirk deepening, but she didn’t say anything. And that’s when it hit me. I glanced down at myself, feeling my stomach drop.

I’m naked.

She laughed softly at my babbling, clearly unfazed by the absolute chaos in my head. Maybe she did know what was going on. After all, I was laid out, completely bare for her to see. “Is that right?” she teased. “You just keep sweaters from random girls?”

“No, I mean—” I stammered, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“So what did you mean?” she asked, leaning in slightly, her eyes glinting with amusement.

“It’s a funny story, actually,” I started, babbling again, the words spilling out in a mess of excuses. “I was running late, so I was going kinda fast, and then—”

“I spilled coffee all over you?” she finished, her tone playful, but it sounded more like a statement than a question.

I blinked. “Wait—how did you—?”

And then it hit me. The scent. Light. Sandalwood. Oh my God.

“Wait… that was you?”

Whoever was controlling my sim right now was some sort of twisted sadist. I was literally about to combust.

Jenna let out another soft laugh, clearly enjoying my realization. “I do love a good wet T-shirt contest,” she said, leaning closer, her breath warm against my cheek. “Although, with you, I think I’d prefer the shirt off.”

I froze, completely speechless as she moved onto the bed, crawling over my legs with ease, straddling me. Her arms draped casually over my shoulders, her body pressed close to mine. I could only stare at her, completely in awe.

She held my gaze for a moment before leaning in and kissing me. This time, there was no rush, but the intensity still simmered just beneath the surface. It was quick, too quick, and I found myself chasing after her lips as she pulled back, earning me a soft chuckle. She kissed me again, just a light peck, before pulling away entirely.

“I had a great time last night,” she murmured, her voice low.

I swallowed, nodding like an idiot. “Me too.”

Jenna lingered for a second longer, then gracefully slid off me, standing next to the bed. I could still feel the warmth of her body pressed against mine, the ghost of her lips on mine.

“I should probably get going,” she said, glancing toward the door with that same playful smirk still on her face.

I felt a sudden panic. “Oh, wait! Do you want…breakfast?” The words tumbled out before I could think, and I cringed internally. Smooth, Bella. Real smooth.

Her eyes flicked back to me, considering for a moment. “Breakfast?” she said, her lips curling into a smile.

“You know what? Sure. Why not.”

I scrambled to get out of bed, wrapping myself in the nearest blanket as I headed for the kitchen. I could feel Jenna’s eyes on me, that same lazy smirk playing on her lips as she watched me with amusement. God, how did she stay so calm?

I rummaged through the kitchen, grabbing ingredients for something quick—eggs, toast, bacon. Nothing fancy, but at least I wouldn’t embarrass myself further. As I worked, I could hear Jenna moving around the apartment, probably checking things out while I tried to pretend this was a normal morning.

By the time I had the food on the stove, Jenna had joined me in the kitchen, sitting on one of the stools at the counter, legs crossed, still wearing coffee girl’s cardigan—her cardigan. I glanced over at her, and she just raised an eyebrow, leaning her chin on her hand.

“So, is this your post-hookup routine?” she asked, her voice playful. “Make the girl breakfast and send her on her way?”

I nearly dropped the spatula. “No! I mean, it’s not like—uh, no. I just thought… you might be hungry?”

Jenna chuckled, clearly enjoying my flustered state. “Relax, I’m just messing with you.” Her gaze softened slightly, though that teasing edge never fully left. “It’s cute how easily you get flustered.”

I busied myself with flipping the bacon, trying to hide the fact that my face was probably a thousand shades of red. “Yeah, well, you’re… not helping.”

“Oh, I know,” she said with a grin, leaning back in her seat.

We ate in relative silence, but the air between us still buzzed with something electric. Every now and then, I’d glance over at her, only to find her already watching me, a small smile playing on her lips. When we finished, I started clearing the plates, and Jenna finally stood up, stretching her arms over her head.

“That was nice,” she said, her tone light but still laced with that same teasing edge. “But I should really go.”

I nodded, trying to seem cool, like I wasn’t internally freaking out that she was about to leave. “Yeah, of course. I’ll… uh, walk you out.”

We made our way to the door, and just as I was about to open it, she turned to me, that familiar smirk back on her lips. “By the way,” she said, her voice dropping slightly, “I’m keeping the sweater.”

I blinked. “What?”

She grinned, pulling the cardigan tighter around herself. “It’s cozy. And besides, I’ll let you borrow it again, if you ask nicely.”

Before I could respond, she leaned in, planting a quick kiss on my lips. It was soft, almost sweet, but still enough to leave me reeling as she pulled away.

“I’ll see you around, Bella,” she said, her voice full of promise. Then she turned and walked out the door, leaving me standing there, my heart pounding in my chest.

[itsnotyouithink]

tiny moves

"the tiniest moves you make, the whole damn world shakes"

===+++===

pairing: jenna ortega x reader

summary: after a date night and declarations of love, you and jenna get discovered by the public and feel a bit like kids again

warnings: mentions of sex, mentions of alcohol, running from fans, cursing, still mostly fluff

word count: 1.7k

A/N: this was originally called starfucker but i didn’t like the connotation it was giving the story, so i decided to change it to this title instead, which more clearly illustrates the vibe i was trying to give it. it has smut, which is why that was the original name, but i didn't like that it sounded that way

===+++===

===+++===

"Jenna, no," you say with a groan, pushing gently at her wrist. It's holding up the elastic band of your underwear just below your navel, and she looks up at you from where she straddles your waist, with dark, hungry brown eyes, coupled with a cheeky smirk.

She's asking you a question in the gaze, and though you earnestly consider it for a moment, you shake your head. She frowns but gives up, shrugging and letting go of the band as it snaps back against the sensitive, soft skin there, before flopping down on top of you. "Later, then."

From where you lay down in the car, the streetlight overhead narrowly slips in and casts itself right over your eyes in a single band. You're too exhausted to shift with Jenna's head lying against your shoulder, so instead you raise an arm to cover your eyes, still trying to catch your breath.

"We took off everything but your underwear, you know," Jenna says, gently poking you in the ribs with her finger. At the small jolt the movement sends through your body, you feel her smile against your neck.

"Are you really complaining?" you say, laughing softly with your eyes still covered. At the noise, she lifts her head up from off of you, watching your chest rise and fall and propping her chin up on her palm. When you realise she's gone silent, you pull your arm away, only to find her watching you.

The hunger from earlier has faded- or maybe it still lingers. But now her eyes are soft and warm, flooded by the dim streetlight outside, and you're positive that they might be twinkling. You swallow the lump in your throat. "What're you looking at?"

Jenna shrugs. "Just you...," she admits, looking up at the foggy window and then back down. "Did you like your dinner?"

The question is disarming and far from what you had expected, and you must've let it show on your face, because she rolls her eyes with a fond smile. "What?"

"Nothing, it's just you're asking me about pasta, now."

She shrugs. "I was just thinking we could probably go there again, next week. Maybe I'll take Emma and Joy."

"You're a dork," you laugh, shaking your head at her ability to so suddenly shift moods. Five minutes ago she had been moaning out your name and coming for the third time; now she was planning dinner with your cast mates. "Do you think they know by now?" you ask, raising a hand to gently scratch at an itchy spot on your collarbone that was already starting to bruise with an imprint of her teeth.

Jenna shakes her head. "I don't think so. I mean, we're pretty good at hiding it." She pauses, smirking at you. "Or, at least I am."

"Hey, friends can tell each other they look pretty."

"Every day?" she raises her eyebrows at you.

"Well, if they look pretty every day...,” you imply. Jenna’s eyebrows raise even higher. “But fine, I'll start telling Georgie he looks pretty too, if it makes less obvious."

"(Y/n), baby, I think that would make it more obvious."

"Hm," you hum, putting your arms back and pushing up from the leather seats. You move back to lean up against the interior car door and Jenna follows you, leaning her head against your chest once you settle. "You have that big scene tomorrow, right? With Hunter?"

She nods against you. "That's what Tim said. I think he wanted to move it up the schedule. He wants to get it out of the way before we film the one with you because of CGI stuff. More time to work on it and make it look good, or something. I don't really know why, but he said the stages were super expensive and—"

"—I love you."

It leaves your lips before you can think twice, not that you would anyhow. There's just something about the fire in her eyes when she speaks. The small crinkle in her nose when she's talking about some sort of problem.

It catches her off guard, interrupting her train of thought to leave her with her mouth hanging open in surprise, and you immediately scramble to cover for the silence. "Sorry, you don't have to say it back if you don't want to. I know it's only been a couple months so—”

But she cuts you off with a kiss, reaching up and turning herself around in your lap. Her arms wrap around your neck, pulling herself flush against you, skin to skin, in a messy kiss, and you're left gripping tightly to her thighs, which bracket your waist. Jenna's hand weaves itself into your hair, tangling itself there as she makes no move to pull away or stop for air.

You can feel her lipstick smearing itself against your lips even more than before, and she pulls away for only a moment, before she reconnects with you, the very tip of her tongue meeting yours. You stay like that for a while but it still is not long enough, and she pulls away, leaving you both heaving, and attempting to catch your breath.

"I love you too," she nods against you, placing a kiss on the tip of your nose and then up on your forehead. "You stole my line."

"We can share," you hum against her, feeling your heart flutter in your chest. It's a miracle and a half, and you can remember in your mind just how much you almost refused to be on the show, and just how catastrophic that would have been.

===+++===

Neither of you are entirely sure just how long you sit in the car, but after what you later realise was twenty minutes of just sitting in silence, you both figure it's probably time enough to get home. Jenna clambers off of you, reaching forward to the passenger seat to where you had thrown her underwear and sweatpants.

You hear her groan as you're tugging your own socks on. "What's wrong?" you ask, raising your eyebrows at her in concern. It immediately goes away, when she turns back to you, holding her jumper up.

"Enrique is going to kill me. This is his, I asked to borrow it and you got it all wrinkly when you took it off."

"Sorry," you wince. "You just looked so pretty?" you offer, as a bad attempt at an explanation, and Jenna rolls her eyes at you, shaking her head with a smile.

"Come on, we need to get home," she sighs, looking a bit tired. By 'home' she really means her place. You have a flat of your own too, in the town you're filming in, but you've spent fewer and fewer nights there the more that you and Jenna began to talk. Even though you haven’t officially moved in together, she’s just started calling her place home, and intentional or not, you won’t correct her because that wouldn’t actually be correct.

Once you’re both dressed, you pull open the door of your car, helping her out and closing it behind her. You click the fob on your keys, looking around the car park for other people. It’s quite late, and you’re rather pleased that both the park and the street outside look empty.

Jenna’s walking a few feet in front of you, but with the empty street, you take complete advantage, catching up to her and grabbing her hand. She looks over at you with a worried expression, but it melts away to excitement when she realises no one else is nearby to ruin the moment. She laces her fingers in yours, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

Neither of you are too sure how long you can keep the charade going, or when you'll open up the internet and see you and Jenna on the very cover of some shitty tabloid, but it's nice to have your peace. Most people could just be peacefully in love in public, but for you and Jenna, it would always be a minefield.

You turn the corner with her hand in yours, both of you wearing sunglasses in the middle of the night to hide your faces. But it does nothing to stop the group a few feet away from stopping and staring at you. They're a bunch of teen girls, staring at you and Jenna with their mouths dropped open in immediate recognition, and immediately you see one take out her phone.

"Shit?"

"Shit," Jenna replies with a nod. Before you know what's happened, she's tugging you by the hand, dragging you behind her and breaking out into a gentle run. You follow after her, hearing the girls behind you begin to call out both of your names, but neither of you turn around.

It's a bit funny, and you're laughing as it happens, both out of the insanity of the situation and how fun it feels to run with her and the wind rushing past, and she pulls you into the doorway of her building, punching in the numbers and then grabbing you by the hand again.

You both race up the stairs and through the door, shutting it behind you, laughing like children at the insanity. You know your cover is blown. Someone would probably say something, and by morning those dreaded articles would be run. But you also know that if you were going to announce to the world that you loved anyone, you'd want it to be her.

Jenna giggles against you, leaning against the hallway of her flat to catch her breath. In between a couple of heavy breaths of your own, you whisper, "Do you think they saw us?"

She snorts. "I think it's safe to say so."

"Sorry," you frown. "It was kind of my fault... are you mad?"

But she shakes her head. "Not really. We both knew it would happen eventually. And, well... I love you. So really, what better time is here?"

You pull her gently into a kiss by your hand cupping cheek, holding her until you feel a hand inch towards your waistband again. "Really?" you laugh against her. "Now?"

"I did say later, didn't I?" she smirks.

===+++===

hope you liked it! had a whole bunch of fun and have been sitting on it for a while now, so it was good to finally get it out there!

[itsnotyouithink]

please keep making stories about pop divas x female f1 driver this has been making my life lately

[itsnotyouithink]

I See You - Tara Carpenter

Part 2 of I Dare You

Summary: At one of Amber's infamous parties, Tara's feelings get more and more complicated as she starts getting to know you.

Warnings: Fem!Painter!Reader, slow burn, mentions of sex, alcohol and partying, minor angst, non canon/high school

w.c: 6.9k

So, the glitch in the matrix seemed to be lasting much longer than you anticipated.

You did your best to forget the interaction you'd had with Tara and, honestly, that hadn't been such a difficult task. You still had a life, after all, and the rest of your day was divided into making preparations for the volunteering you'd be doing at the hospital during the weekend, studying and trying to make any progress on your painting.

Unfortunately, the last task proved itself to be annoyingly impossible, no matter how hard you tried. You'd tried everything from throwing random brushstrokes at the canvas to staring at the blank space while upside down in your bed, which filled your brain with blood but not with ideas.

There came a point when you had to admit defeat, at least for a day, and you picked up your phone to try to distract yourself from what seemed to be your greatest artistic failure. Your plans were to doomscroll through all possible social media and try to get the slightest bit of inspiration, but your attention was grabbed by a text notification coming from your Instagram.

From the username, it was clear that the text had been from none other than Tara Carpenter, which made your heart race a little in response. Your profile was a bit hard to find because there were no photos of you, which meant that Tara specifically had to look for you for a while. What's more, your profile was basically an exhibition of your artwork and the idea of someone other than your friends and teacher looking at all your projects made you a little anxious.

The texts themselves contained nothing much, apart from Tara apologizing for taking your pen (which you didn't even remember lending, to be honest) and then trying to strike up a conversation by asking you about Freddy vs Leatherface. Even so, noticing that she'd made an effort to keep on talking to you left you swooning.

You answered, of course. It would be rude to leave someone on read, wouldn't it? And besides, you were already planning to procrastinate anyway, so why not be nice and talk to Tara for a few minutes?

Who cares if minutes became hours, right?

And when school started the next day, you felt lighter, somehow. To your relief, no one seemed to remember your disastrous stumble the day before (probably because few people remembered you in general) and so you didn't have to deal with any giggles or weird looks.

You were in the middle of getting some books out of your locker when a familiar pen levitated into your field of vision. Your gaze followed the tanned arm that was holding it and you were met with long eyelashes and a sly smile.

“I'm a woman of my word! Here's your pen.” Tara raised the object towards you, making a funny reference to the text she had sent you the day before.

You rolled your eyes in amusement, although you couldn't hold the expression for long due to the corners of your lips lifting involuntarily. You took the small item from her hand and quickly put it in your bag. “Thanks, it's good to know you're not a thief. Did you at least bring one pen today?”

She understood the light, false accusatory tone in your voice and raised her hand, showing two fingers raised in a V. “Haha. Just so you know, I brought two today.”

It was amazing how instantaneous and right that conversation felt, almost as if it was the kind of thing you did all the time and not for the first time. Talking to Tara was surprisingly easy and you could see at least a friendship blooming between you in the near future.

If it weren't for the fact that she hangs out with the most insufferable people in the world, of course.

The reminder of Tara's group of friends hit you like a thunderbolt and made your chest ache for some reason. The words of both Ethan and Mindy echoed in your head, warning you to be careful, but a large chunk of your mind also insisted on reminding you of Anika's more positive opinion on the topic.

You turned to your locker again, pretending you were looking for something that didn't even exist. “I could never manage with just one pen.” You added politely, not wanting to leave Tara's joke unanswered just because your thoughts were getting muddled.

“I know. Artist and all, aren't you?” The girl nodded and you could see out of the corner of your eye as she leaned on the locker next to you, crossing her arms while still looking at you with a thoughtful expression. “Hey, don't you feel like going to a party tonight?”

Your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as you processed what she had said, but Tara remained completely unbothered by your side. As far as you knew, the Carpenter girl didn't usually throw parties, but Amber Freeman did, and she'd instituted a very specific rule about them ever since she'd thrown the first one during your freshman year:

Invite only. No losers allowed.

And, as far as you knew, in Amber's opinion you were included in the word “losers”.

“I don't think so.” You shook your head. “Amber's throwing this party, isn't she? I don't have an invitation and I don't even like parties that much.”

Tara laughed out loud at that, causing a few heads to turn in your direction and your cheeks to heat up like coals. “I'm inviting you, ain't I? and seriously! I've never even seen you at the boring school parties, how are you supposed to know if you like parties or not without ever having tried them?”

Okay, you weren't expecting Tara to rebut your arguments or be so insistent about your presence. Was it getting warmer or was it just your impression? “But... I don't even know anyone who's going, I'll probably just stand in the corner the whole night. And also, I have an appointment the next day, I can't, like, go wild...”

Unexpectedly, Tara let out an even louder laugh, this time even wiping away a tear that ran down her cheek. “Go wild? You're hilarious.” She controlled her breathing, still keeping a bright smile on her face. “You don't have to drink if you don't want to, no one's going to force you. And about the being alone part, you can invite those friends of yours. Amber won't mind, she wants more people at her parties anyway and she refuses to call sophomores and below.”

You looked at her with surprise and suspicion. Invite your friends? Did Tara remember that your friends included Mindy Meeks-Martin? Like, basically Amber's number one enemy, Mindy Meeks-Martin?

Tara finally noticed your wary expression and sighed, uncrossing her arms and raising both hands in a peaceful gesture. “Look, Amber said I could invite nice people and I think you're nice. She'll be busy with other things anyway, she probably won't even notice that your friends are there.”

You bit your lower lip, considering your options. On the one hand, parties weren't exactly your natural habitat and you still had your doubts about whether or not you were welcome there. On the other hand, Tara had been so kind to you lately and... for some reason, you wanted to explore it a little further.

“Can I give you an answer later? I'll ask my friends if they're going.” That's what you decided to answer, choosing to leave your conflicting future in the hands of your dear companions.

Tara nodded a yes and complemented the action with a shrug. “Okay. But even if they decide not to go, I think you should give it a chance.”

Suddenly, the bell for the first period echoed in the corridors, waking you both up to the fact that you had to be in your classrooms in a few seconds. As lockers closed and teenagers ran to avoid being late, Tara lazily turned around and started walking away, ending your interaction.

But you didn't want it to end so soon. In a impulsive act, you raised your voice. “What should I wear?”

Tara turned as soon as she heard you and her eyes slowly traveled up and down your body as a smile worthy of the Cheshire cat broke out on her face. “Wear something pretty! But I think you were already going to do that anyway.”

System crash. Your brain shortcutted. Did Tara had just...? No, she couldn't have possibly... checked you out? Were you seeing things?

As Tara's back got further and further down the corridor, you ran back to your classroom, muttering on the way, “God, I'm really not your strongest soldier.”

_

“I need to ask you something.”

You were extremely nervous. Your fingers kept drumming on the table and your brain was desperately trying to think of a way to convince your friends to A) go to Amber's party with you and B) not think you were out of your mind.

Tara's words (and her actions, by the way) really made you consider that crazy possibility. On any other occasion, you would have denied it as quickly as possible and then run away, but you were finding that Tara Carpenter could be extremely convincing.

Mindy swallowed a piece of the sandwich she was holding, making a dismissive gesture with her hands. “I’ve told you before, we have no interest in a throuple.”

Sitting next to her with her feet propped up on her girlfriend's lap, Anika raised an eyebrow and smiled playfully. “Who says we don't?”

“What?!” Both Mindy and Ethan shouted, although the girl clearly got the joke and was just going along with it, while the boy seemed really bothered by the idea. You and Anika let out a loud chuckle and you smiled at her in appreciation, knowing that she had joked around just to make you less nervous.

With the mood more relaxed, you took a deep breath and said the words in rapid fire, fearing that they would never come out if you lingered too long. “Tara invited me to Amber's party and she said I could invite you guys. Would you go with me? Please?”

“Absolutely not.” Mindy quickly denied your request, putting on an angry expression. “And why would you want to go to a party like that, anyway?”

“That's right, only assholes go to that kind of thing.” Ethan agreed with the girl, looking equally annoyed by your suggestion.

Your eyes turned to Anika in a plea for help and she nodded almost imperceptibly. Opening her famous warm smile that reached her eyes, she grabbed Mindy's arm and pouted. “Pleeeeeeeeeeeease, I've always wanted to go to a party like this. We can just go and laugh at people being dumb.”

“We can laugh at people being dumb at school literally all the time, I don't need to be at Amber Freeman's house for that.” Mindy objects, but it's obvious that she's already starting to give in to her girlfriend's charms by the way her face looks more peaceful.

Anika looked in your direction and you understood that you would have to stay in that ping pong game of arguments until the other two gave in. “Amber won't even notice we were there! Tara said there would be too many people for her to handle.”

“Aaaand,” Anika added, moving even closer to Mindy, almost sitting on her lap on that narrow wooden bench. “Our theme for the A.V club project is literally young and reckless! What's more young and reckless than Amber's parties?! We'll get some great material if we go!”

Mindy considered the proposal for long seconds that left you on the edge of your seat. You knew Ethan would probably go if you all did, so it was really all in the Meeks-Martin girl's hands.

Finally, she sighed and rolled her eyes, slipping an arm around her girlfriend's shoulders. “Okay, I'll go. But I’m warning you, if Amber even looks in my direction, I won't answer for myself.”

Anika squealed, grabbing Mindy's face and pulling her close to kiss her cheek, which clearly got the girl flustered even though she only replied with an “alright, alright”. You smiled at this, feeling a mixture of amusement and relief at knowing that your friends had agreed to embark with you on this madness.

Ethan hadn't necessarily agreed yet, but when you looked in his direction, he sighed dramatically, so that his brown curls moved with the wind. “If you're both going, I think I'll go to keep y/n company. So she won't be a third wheel and won't be bothered by idiots, you know?”

You thanked the boy with a pat on the shoulder and his smile automatically widened. Across the table, Mindy laughed. “Oh, I don't think you have to worry about y/n getting third wheeled, Ethan. Tara invited her, did you forget?”

“Holy shit. I have to tell Tara.” You remembered your conversation with the girl earlier, rushing into her DMs and completely ignoring the jokes and teasing from the girls in front of you.

You just hoped they could also ignore your completely flustered behavior.

 _

We're going!

A simple message had made Tara's day a thousand times better. She'd forgotten how insufferable Amber could be on party days, as well as the fact that Liv had spent the whole day acting like a pick-me-girl because Chad had been spending much more time on his phone than with her lately.

She'd put her best Casanova act into play when she'd spoken to you earlier, but somehow your sense of humor made her break character and just act like herself, which was something she couldn't remember doing so freely in a long time.

Of course she had appealed for a bit of her charm at the end, but she just couldn't hold back when you had opened up such a perfect opening for her to flirt.

“You should really thank me, you know that?” A familiar voice whispered close to her ear and soon pale arms wrapped around her neck in a grip that bordered on uncomfortable. “I basically handed you your challenge on a platter by letting you invite those weirdos.”

Tara was annoyed by the comment and she quickly disentangled herself from the hug, bumping into Amber and her devilish expression. The shorter girl huffed, fixing her clothes and hair as if that was the real reason she had walked away.

At least this time she didn't turn red. That was progress.

“Shut up. If anything happens, it'll be my merit.” Tara slung her bag over her shoulder, walking along with Amber and the other students to the exit after another tiring Friday of classes.

The taller girl didn't even mind Tara's protests, shaking her head as if she didn't believe the freckled girl’s words. “Anyway, at least you'll be busy while I'm doing someone and won't be bothering me the next day.”

They walked out the door and fortunately Tara could already see Sam's car parked not far away. The girl turned her face in the opposite direction of her friend’s, pretending it was due to the sun and hoping Amber hadn't seen the pained expression on her face. “Whatever. See you later, Freeman.”

“See you later, Carpenter!” Amber shouted back, but Tara didn't turn around to wave goodbye and kept her head down until she reached the old sedan her mother used to drive. At least that was until she was no longer sober enough to hold a steering wheel.

Inside the car, Sam raised her head when she heard the door open and close after Tara got into the passenger seat. She started to back out of the parking lot, occasionally glancing at her younger sister who seemed to be upset beside her. “So... how was school?”

“Don't fucking start.” Tara muttered, putting on her headphones in a quick move to isolate herself from the world and from an older sister who suddenly wanted to be there for her after abandoning her alone with an alcoholic for a year.

She closed her eyes and leaned her head on the window, trying not to think about how Amber really got on her nerves sometimes, or think about the guilt that was starting to rise up inside her after being rude to Sam for nothing. Why couldn't her mind stop working for just one minute?

But as she tried to make her own thoughts go blank, a pleasant memory surfaced. Tara remembered your conversation earlier, the way you could understand each other's moods and how genuinely happy she was that you were going to the party for her.

Maybe, if she just kissed you and hid the real reason behind everything, you could even be friends after all. Maybe she could even convince Amber that you were a nice person, so that you could hang out with them.

Of course, these were only wishful thinking, but Tara wanted peace and, at the moment, the utopian idea of having you around gave her that exact feeling. 

_

“Okay, now give me a spin.”

You turned in your place at Anika's request, being mindful to not to get out of the sight of your phone camera, which was leaning awkwardly on your desk. Your room was a mess of clothes scattered all over the place, highlighting your intense search to decide on the perfect outfit to wear for the party.

“So?” You asked your friend, who had her attention split between the video call and her own elaborate makeup.

Anika seemed to finish her analysis on your look while you were about to start trembling with anxiety. You trusted the girl's fashion sense more than anything and you swore you could have started crying if she said that your outfit wasn't good. Fortunately, her response was a positive nod and a satisfied grin. “Oh, you look so cute!”

You looked down, once again staring at the outfit you had chosen, which was a comfortable one, but neat enough to let people know that you had put some effort into dressing up.

Receiving compliments had never exactly been your strong suit, but as much as you felt awkward about Anika's comment, you couldn't get Tara's recommendation out of your head. “Yeah, but do I look pretty?”

“Of course you do! Cute, pretty, it's all the same!”

You frowned, still feeling annoyed. Fashion had never exactly been your forte and that fact was your Achilles heel at the moment, since you still weren't convinced that “cute” and “pretty” were the same thing. In your opinion, Tara seemed to be the type who liked pretty girls, but not cute girls.

Or maybe it didn't make any sense at all and you were just going crazy at the thought of spending the next few hours in a house full of people you either didn't know or didn't like. Besides, when did you start caring about the kind of girl Tara liked?

“I can hear your thoughts from here, you know?” Anika called out, making your head snap out of that internal cycle of overthinking. “Is this all to impress Tara?”

“Ugh.” You grunted, flopping onto your bed oblivious to the dozens of clothes that were crumpling under your body. “No? Maybe? I don't know.”

You felt ashamed of the situation, even though you knew Anika wasn't the judgmental type. Your feelings were still confusing and you definitely didn't feel ready to admit that you thought about Tara more than you should, but there was also no way to hide something that was so obvious.

“Hey, it's okay, you know? Actually, I'm glad to see you're interested in someone.” Anika replied kindly, which made you work up the courage to sit up, staring at your friend's genuine expression through the screen. “I know you're worried about Mindy and all, but Chad's always nice to me when I go to their house and it was super easy to do some school work with Wes for our calc class.”

She continued, “What I mean is that Tara could still be a nice girl for you, no matter how much there's this Romeo and Juliet thing going on between our groups.”

“It's not that. I mean, it is a bit, but also...” You sighed, trying hard not to run your hands through your hair and make it look messy. “... I don't think she'd be interested in me. I mean, she's been giving me these signals but, I don't know, maybe she does it with everyone?”

Anika tsked, shaking her head and giving you a playful smile. “I've never heard of Tara being a player.”

You groaned again, turning your face away as if the act would somehow stop you from feeling so flustered. Anika laughed in response. “Just enjoy the moment! You already know she's the straight forward type, don't you? If she wants something from you, I'm sure she'll get it.”

“Anika!” You shrieked, appalled by what she was inferring. Your entire face seemed to be engulfed in lava as your friend laughed even louder at the clear shock you expressed.

“What?! The world needs more people like that, you know? That's why I'm going to take the initiative to run away to a corner with Mindy at the first opportunity and-.”

“Ew! No! Stop talking! Please, you're my mother figures!”

_

The walls of the house seemed to shake under Tara's fingers as she leaned on it, making her way to the bathroom in slow, crooked steps as she cursed quietly at the amount of people crowding into the hallway.

They were screaming with joy, slurring the lyrics of the extremely loud song that was playing on the huge speakers in the living room, echoing throughout the house and possibly the entire block. Thank God, Wes had already taken care of his mother.

Tara groaned the whole way, feeling like pushing away all the sweaty, alcohol-altered people who bumped into her shoulder, unable to see properly through the colored lights that made the place look like a nightclub. She sighed in relief when she finally found the bathroom, opening the door and locking herself inside without caring about the noise it made.

She turned on the lights and leaned on the sink with both hands, leaning over to look at her reflection in the mirror, with tired eyes and her bangs sticking to her forehead from sweat. God, how could she have been so shaken up by a measly hour of partying? She used to be able to take a lot more.

But she also knew exactly what had led up to it and the smell of alcohol on her lips wouldn't let her lie. She thought she was going to have more fun, but her evening became much more difficult after she saw Amber stick her tongue down the throats of at least three people right in front of her, making a point of giving Tara a thumbs-up afterwards, almost as if she was trying to annoy her friend on purpose.

Tara tried everything to make herself less bothered. She'd danced, she'd watched some people play 7 minutes in heaven, she'd even flirted with a few people just for fun, but in the end, what had stopped her blood from pounding furiously in her ears had been the beers stocked in Amber's basement fridge.

She stopped after the third one, after she felt tipsy enough. She didn't want to be her mother's daughter, who didn't know her own limits and fell asleep on the living room carpet because she didn't have the strength to walk to her own room. And the drinks helped for a while, but now that the sweat had evaporated the effect of the alcohol on herself, her headache left her one scream or punch away from going insane.

Tara splashed water on her face, oblivious to the fact that her makeup was getting smudged or her bangs got even wetter. At this point, she no longer cared about much other than surviving the rest of the night.

Once she had pulled herself together, she sighed and left the bathroom, expecting to be dragged into the living room by the crowd of teenagers dancing and jumping around like wild animals, but instead she ended up being bumped in the opposite direction, almost knocking her off balance.

“Oh my God, I'm sorry!” Gentle hands rushed to hold Tara up before she fell and she followed the length of the arms with her eyes until she bumped into a familiar face. It was you, who was now staring at Tara with a frown. The girl couldn't help herself and looked you up and down, mentally appreciating the way you were dressed.

You quickly took your hands off Tara's shoulders, rubbing them anxiously. The girl felt a tug in her chest as she remembered that she had invited you and you most likely should have spent all this time looking for her, while she was drinking and whining about not having the attention of the biggest bitch in Woodsboro. Drunk and abandoning people? Wow, the Carpenter women's genes never fail.

“I didn't realize you'd already arrived.” Tara broke the awkward silence, mentally thanking you for being upstairs and being able to talk without having to shout over the hip hop track playing in the living room.

You looked away, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Yeah. It's been a while.”

Tara nodded, feeling a little disappointed in herself as she realized that you had clearly been annoyed by her absence. She tried to strike up a conversation again, wishing she could somehow put a smile on your face. “What brings you upstairs? Not enjoying the energy of the party?”

“I was looking for the bathroom.” You sighed, hugging your elbows. “Actually, I was more looking to escape to the bathroom, because I was planning to hide there until my friends decided to leave.”

“You really don’t like parties, huh?” Tara joked, but the smile on her face hardened when she realized that you hadn't laughed along with her.

Tara felt terrible. Sure, you'd only had a few interactions before, but all of them had proved that you could understand each other easily. Now, Tara didn't know if it was the party, if it was her or something else that had made you look so uncomfortable, but she was determined to make it up to you for being an idiot.

“You know, I think I have a better hiding place than a small bathroom.” She leaned towards you, as if she was sharing a secret. “Are you interested?”

You scrutinized the girl's face and she couldn't help but be disappointed that you didn't even seem to be affected by your proximity as you usually would. Your arms were crossed as you felt suspicious of her offer. “Don't you have to go back to the party?”

Tara made a dismissive gesture with her hand and started walking down the large hallway, looking for a specific room. “Nah, I've been to so many of these that it's lost it’s spark to me.”

Technically, it wasn't a lie. Tara was sick of that party and she'd love to have a distraction from the fact that Amber was now probably at her body count number 100 and Tara wasn't talking about dead people. But then again, she felt strangely committed to making you have at least a little fun and she really liked your company.

Maybe it was just because she felt bad for having invited you in the first place. Yeah, that must be it.

She opened Amber's bedroom door, barging in without hesitation and heading straight for the window, opening it all the way. Behind her, you seemed slightly alarmed by the idea of simply invading the personal space of a girl who could make your life a living hell. “Uh…”

But before you could really protest, Tara put one leg out of the window, glancing in your direction with a playful smile. “Trust me. You’re not scared, are you?”

“I’m not scared, but trusting you? After you invited me to a party you’re trying to escape?” you replied, making Tara's smile widen as she realized you were starting to open up again. “And what are you doing at the window, Rapunzel?”

Tara chuckled, pointing your way. “Wait and see.”

In a swift motion, she raised her hands to the roof platform above her head, pushing off Amber's window with her feet to gain enough momentum to pull herself up with extra effort from her arms. Still holding onto the edge, Tara hung upside down, looking at you through the window with her bangs sticking up. “So, are you coming or not?”

You snorted lightly with the sight, shaking your head as you approached the window. “I’m no Spider-Man. If I fall from here, it’ll be your fault, and I hope they write it down as homicide.”

“Good to know you have so much faith in me.” Tara answered, kneeling on the roof tiles and extending her hand for you to grab. You hesitated for a few seconds, and honestly, Tara couldn’t blame you for it, but she kept looking at you expectantly, trying to communicate with her eyes. Let me make things right with you.

She almost sighed in relief when you finally grabbed her forearm, letting her help you up slowly, pretending not to notice how her hands ended up on your hips. All in the name of making your night a little less boring, of course.

But wow, your body felt... warm.

It didn’t take long for you to pull away from Tara, clearing your throat and sitting on the roof beside her. It would be hard to stand for long due to the slope, but the spot was comfortable enough for you to sit or lie down without the risk of rolling off.

The roof was quite high, not tall enough for you to see the entire city, for example, but high enough that the people below you looked like tiny ants. Ants that were dancing, having fun, and throwing cups of beer at each other.

“Do you come here often?” you broke the silence, but Tara saw the exact moment you winced, realizing way too late the double meaning of your words. “I didn’t mean… I wasn’t…”

“It’s all good.” Tara laughed, considering saying something to tease you even more, but she ultimately decided against it , feeling a bit sorry for your embarrassed state. “And no, to answer your question. I used to spend a lot more time up here before, but now…”

She let the sentence trail off, lost in her own thoughts. Maybe the last time she had been on that roof was the day Sam had gone to rehab, two years ago. Which, looking back now, was probably around the same time Amber stopped being a caring friend and started being the friend that thought Tara complained too much.

The two of you remained in a comfortable silence for a few more seconds—or as quiet as it could be with two massive speakers blasting music two floors below. Tara glanced to the side, staring at your face, which seemed more focused on the starry sky, illuminated only by a few beams of moonlight.

Like she had felt in the car earlier, that sight gave her peace. It wasn’t like looking at Amber, which made her feel like her organs were being squeezed and thrown into an erupting volcano. Looking at you made her feel like a sea breeze was brushing against her face, a comforting, peaceful gust of wind.

Tara’s eyes drifted down to your lips, and she had to run her tongue across her own. Amber’s challenge lingered in the back of her mind, and she was tempted to test if your kiss would be a better distraction than the cheap beer she’d grabbed from the basement.

But suddenly, Tara felt self-conscious. Maybe it was the fact that the idea had been Amber’s, and she was still too annoyed with the girl to give her the satisfaction of being right. Maybe it was because she could still taste the alcohol in her mouth and didn’t want you to taste it too.

Or maybe it was something else. Something gentler and softer that even Tara couldn’t quite describe yet.

“Oh, look!” Tara snapped out of her own thoughts when she saw you excitedly pointing at the sky. “You can see Orion so clearly!”

She followed the direction of your hand with her eyes, feeling confused about what exactly she was supposed to be looking at. That particular night was cloudless, which made the vast array of stars shining in the dark sky exceptionally beautiful.

You noticed the lost expression on the girl’s face beside you and chuckled. “Orion? The constellation?”

“Oh, yeah. I… I know.” Tara just nodded, feeling a bit embarrassed for not being sure what you were referring to. She knew what a constellation was, of course, but she had never studied them in much detail, and in her eyes, all she could see in the sky were random stars, beautiful but completely scattered.

You laughed again, not buying Tara’s excuse for a second after seeing how confused her eyes looked. Gently, your hand held hers as you started pointing out the constellation with both of your hands joined together.

“See those three stars close together? That’s what we call Orion’s belt. It’s much easier to spot the rest of the constellation starting from there. Up there, kind of making a triangle, you have Meissa, Betelgeuse, and Bellatrix, and if you look to the side, it kinda looks like he’s holding a bow.”

Tara wanted to pay attention to your explanation, but her brain turned to mush the moment your hands got entangled, and her heart started pounding like the drums in a heavy metal song. You, on the other hand, seemed completely unaware of the action, which made Tara feel even more like an idiot.

Wow, what was in those drinks?

“You really know a lot about this,” she said, trying to sound normal, even though her voice felt like it could crack at any moment. You smiled at the comment, letting go of her hand to play with your fingers in your lap.

“One day, I had this brilliant idea to paint constellations on my bedroom ceiling—or at least most of them—and I had to do a ton of research to make sure it looked right.” You laughed, and Tara realized she wanted to hear that sound more and more.

“It’s cool that you’re a painter. It’s different.” She wanted to keep the conversation going, eager to learn more about any detail you were willing to offer, but she didn’t exactly know what to say. For someone who usually had no trouble expressing herself, Tara seemed to have forgotten her entire vocabulary.

Luckily, you seemed to be in the opposite situation, feeling comfortable enough to keep talking. “I guess so? I’ve never thought much about it before. Painting is a lot more than just a hobby for me—it’s more like a safe haven, you know?”

Tara nodded instead of giving a verbal response, especially because she knew exactly what you were talking about, but she didn’t have the words to express how much she needed a conversation like this—so simple, yet so healing.

She reached into the pocket of her jacket, slowly pulling out her phone. “Can I take a picture of the constellation?” Tara asked, mentally kicking herself when she heard how vulnerable her voice sounded.

Her tone didn’t go unnoticed by you, and you looked at her with a bit of confusion, but soon after, your eyes softened, shining with kindness—almost as bright as the stars above your heads. “You don’t have to ask me to take pictures of the sky, but do you want me to point it out again?”

“Sorry, old habit.” She shook her head to snap out of it, feeling her cheeks heating up as she started opening the camera app and aiming it upward. “But yeah, please.”

Slowly and gently, you took Tara’s hands again, working together with her to make sure the constellation was perfectly centered. You were close enough for Tara to catch the pleasant scent of your perfume, but she forced herself to stay focused on the picture you two were trying to capture.

After a few successful shots of Orion (which Tara planned to edit later to make it more visible and color-corrected), the two of you lay down side by side, admiring the night’s beauty in another moment of shared, comfortable silence.

_

Now, the silence inside Sam’s car wasn’t as comfortable.

It was the first time Tara had asked Sam to pick her up from a party, especially as late as 2 AM, considering the younger Carpenter always used to sleep over at Amber’s once everything wrapped up.

But after you left, Tara completely lost the desire to stay. The music was dull, she had no interest in drinking or playing any games, and she definitely didn’t want to be around her friends anymore.

She sat in a thoughtful silence, her head resting against the window, watching as the asphalt disappeared behind the car doors. The soft hum of the engine served as background noise since Tara didn’t have her precious headphones, but she’d spent enough time around loud music for the night anyway, so her ears were begging for a break.

“Did you… have fun?” Sam asked cautiously, as if Tara were a wounded animal that might lash out at any moment. The younger girl sighed, feeling guilty for being the reason behind the hostile distance between them.

She already felt guilty about enough things. Maybe it was time to start lifting some of that weight off her shoulders.

“I guess I did.” She nodded, watching Sam’s surprised expression at her genuine response. The look made her seem younger, reminding Tara that Sam wasn’t that much older than her. Now that she thought about it, she couldn’t remember seeing Sam so carefree since she’d returned, but her anger hadn’t exactly allowed her to notice the little details. “I had a good time.”

“Good,” Sam replied, trying to hide a satisfied smile from tugging at the corner of her lips. In the passenger seat, Tara did the same, feeling a tiny bit of happiness from the small progress they’d made. Small steps were important.

The car fell silent again, but it felt less heavy, and Tara figured it was because Sam was tired and still had to focus on the road for at least another 10 minutes. Taking advantage of the pause, the younger Carpenter pulled her phone out of her jacket pocket, going straight to her gallery and searching for the pictures she had taken earlier.

Most of them were of the sky, capturing the fateful (and now familiar to Tara) constellation of Orion, which made her think of the feeling of your hands on hers. Two others, however, were a bit more personal for her.

She zoomed in on the photo, staring at the profile of your face bathed in moonlight as you smiled brighter than the stars. She had taken the picture in secret, an impulsive urge to capture not just the moment, but you. Tomorrow, she could blame it on the alcohol, but tonight, she would give herself the privilege of gazing at your carefree expression for a few long seconds.

You had probably spent hours talking on the roof, and yet it still didn’t feel like enough. Tara wanted more. She needed more. Even though she’d never considered herself to be possessive or clingy, she couldn’t help but want to explore every little piece of your world as if it were the most beautiful piece of art.

A sudden thought crossed her mind, and Tara quickly opened Instagram, this time taking her time to scroll through and really appreciate each of your paintings. As she studied the pieces you had displayed, she mentally kicked herself for not having done it sooner. It was clear that you drew inspiration from the Renaissance, and that people were your greatest muse. There were few self-portraits, but Tara recognized some of your friends in the works.

She was so captivated that she felt a strong urge to knock on your door and ask you to tell her the story behind each one, just for the pleasure of hearing your voice. But, well, it was 2 AM, and she didn’t even know where you lived.

And, of course, she wasn’t that crazy.

Still, she decided to slide into your DMs, sending you five of the photos you had taken of the sky, taking the opportunity to wish you a good night. Would sending a heart emoji be too much? She decided against it. The photos would be enough.

But Tara still wasn’t satisfied with her exploration, so she ventured into your stories, looking for anything that could give her more reasons to talk to you. It turned out to be a great decision, because she struck gold.

You had posted an announcement from Woodsboro Central Hospital earlier, calling for volunteers for a special event dedicated to bringing joy to children hospitalized with cancer. The flyer said that any help was welcome, from telling stories to dressing up as superheroes, and Tara couldn’t stop wondering what you had signed up to do.

Without wasting any time, she navigated to the hospital’s profile, hoping they were still accepting applications even though she was texting them literally seven hours before the event.

Hi, I’m interested in volunteering! Would you need a photographer?

[itsnotyouithink]

Angel Baby

Olivia Rodrigo x Reader, Jenna Ortega x BestFriend!Reader

Word Count: 1,702 words

Trigger Warnings: a lot of fluff

Synopsis: A songfic based on Angel Baby by Troye Sivan in which Olivia and the Reader see each other after their decision to never date anyone ever again.

“I just think… Putting yourself out there wouldn’t be the worst idea.” Jenna said, glancing up at her best friend, who was currently examining her ice latte as if it were the worst thing to ever exist. Though, Jenna had come to realize (Y/n)’s face wasn’t towards the latte, but rather a way to pretend she wasn’t horrified by her suggestion. “(Y/n), come on. You’re amazing and talented. You deserve love. I have this friend… I would really like to introduce you to her. And, I heard you call her pretty before when we were flipping through a magazine.”

(Y/n) chose to refrain from rolling her eyes. “Another girl in the industry… great.” (Y/n) said sarcastically, wincing a bit when the disappointed frown that graced Jenna’s face appeared. She hated when Jenna pulled out the frown, an involuntary expression that only showed around people who knew her well enough to notice it. “Look, I just don’t think dating is good for me. All it ever led to was me locking myself in my apartment, missing three auditions that would’ve been amazing and totally mine if I would have attended, and me almost drowning in my cereal bowl.” She reminded, getting a little snicker from Jenna at the mention of when (Y/n) cried in her Fruit Loops, and Jenna had to lift her head from the bowl. She had milk all over her face, and Jenna had to take five minutes to keep from laughing.

Jenna grew serious though as she tapped the table. (Y/n) could almost groan, knowing what her best friend had up her sleeve. Undeniably, it was the best friend pact. Jenna was calling in a favor. (Y/n) could read it so clearly on her freckled face as Jenna tried to pick her words carefully. She knew she wasn’t going to be able to deny a favor of this caliber since Jenna very rarely pulled out the Best Friend Pact Favor. This was something they created on set of a movie they starred in together at the age of twelve. Since the creation of this sacred pact, they have stuck to it, using it to call dibs on being each other’s dates to events, help them avoid awkward questions asked by paparazzi, fans, and interviewers, and more.

“I hate to do this but… I’m invoking the pact.” Jenna said, leaning back in her chair. (Y/n) sighed deeply but waited, wanting to hear Jenna out. This was obviously something that had brewing in her mind for awhile. “Honestly, I’m worried about you and her. I think you two would be good for each other. I just want you to give it a chance. A real chance, (Y/n).”

(Y/n) ran a hand down her face, risking her makeup’s safety when she did. “Fine, fine. Just tell me who it is. That way I can plan something.” She agreed, taking a sip of her coffee, debating chugging it to get out of the coffee shop faster. But instead, she remained calm and just panicked on the inside. She knew that Jenna was genuinely worried about her and the fact that she complained a little too frequently about being lonely. Plus, it had been a year since her breakup to the girl who always put down her dreams for her own. Maybe it was time to put herself out there. Besides, Jenna knew her taste quite well, saying as they were going on almost ten years strong in their friendship.

“Ha, as if I would tell you upfront and risk you leaving as soon as you saw her.” Jenna rose a brow. She tended to know her a little too well. Admittedly, she probably would run. But who’s to say that’s still not a possibility given that she could go to wherever Jenna would drop her off at… She could also just sneak off. “You’re also not allowed to sneak out as soon as I drop you off. This date is going to be on Saturday at six, I’ve decided. Dress nice but not overly nice. Basically, a pretty blouse and jeans. Oh! And that leather jacket that you look super fucking hot in.”

A snort escaped her at Jenna’s words and she allowed her gaze to meet Jenna’s deep brown ones. “I’m beginning to think you’re setting me up with you.” She teased, earning a playful shove. (Y/n) found herself to be grateful that the shove was officially the end to the conversation. Now, they’ve moved onto better topics like filming and dessert they’ve had recently. She finally felt the tension caused by the conversation leave her shoulders as she listen to Jenna talk about a special dessert Emma, her Wednesday co-star, had her try.

On Saturday, Jenna dropped (Y/n) at a pretty popular celebrity hangout, that way she wouldn’t know who she was setting her up with. (Y/n) drummed her fingers on the table, fist against her cheek as she waited for some kind of clue for who it might be when someone unexpected caught her eye at the bar. Olivia Rodrigo. A guilty pit fell in her stomach as she looked around, completely abandoning whoever Jenna might be dropping off soon now that she was settled. Instead, she approached the brunette who was ordering a glass of wine.

“Good choice. I’ll have the same.” She settled by the girl, who looked over and smiled a bit. “It’s been awhile, Liv,” (Y/n) greeted her friend. She has always had sort of a thing for Olivia, not that she would say it out loud. Only Jenna knew. “How has the music scene been going? Please tell me your third album is coming out soon. I’ve been craving a new vinyl with your name on it.” (Y/n), being a big supporter of her friends’ works, bought their movies and vinyl's. This included Olivia. She had her Sour album, her Guts album, and even her Guts Deluxe album.

A small smile fell on Olivia lips as she sipped her wine. “I didn’t expect to see you here, (Y/n).” She leaned in, closer to the girl. “The third album might come sooner than you think.” She said with a teasing smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “What about you? What have you been working on as of late? Any movie I should be keeping my eyes out for?” Olivia winked, causing (Y/n)’s cheeks to heat up. She reminded herself, in that moment, that she swore off dating. She couldn’t flirt with Olivia. But Olivia seemed to be flirting, a little bit, with her. Was she being delusional?

Their conversation continued, and (Y/n) forgot about the fact that she was there for Jenna and whoever she would be bringing. She didn't know if there was anyone waiting for her, looking out for her. Her attention was just on Olivia. "Honestly, I wasn't excited to come out here tonight." (Y/n) swirled the wine around in her glass as more was poured. Their conversation had turned into something less of small talk. Now, they were going into deeper conversations, both agreeing that the dating scene has sucked. But there was an ease to their conversation that made them feel comfortable. That's how all of their conversations seemed to go.

Olivia frowned a bit, eyes searching (Y/n)'s for a moment. "Oh? Why is that?" She questioned the girl. (Y/n) found herself at a loss, not knowing how to explain that she had abandoned a potential date to join Olivia. Mostly because she knew that leaving whoever it was behind like that was wrong. However, she couldn't help herself to be so drawn in to the girl in front of her. She just had this way about her that always drew (Y/n) in. From their first conversation, Olivia had become someone (Y/n) deeply appreciated and welcome into her life. And that wasn't something she did often.

"Well, I don't want you to think I'm a bad person. It's just… Jenna was trying to set me up with someone, but I've just sworn off dating. Though, I'm starting to think that… you know, I shouldn't do that." She cleared her throat, cheeks burning at the insinuation that she would give up dating for Olivia. But she would. She would love to take Olivia on a date and not just sit in front of a bar, talking over a couple glasses of wine. "I just totally abandoned whoever she was trying to set me up with because I saw you. I couldn't help myself."

A smile fell on Olivia's lips. For a moment, she had turned away from (Y/n) before she let her brown eyes meet (Y/n)'s eyes again. "You didn't abandon your date. Jenna had me come meet you here because I swore it, dating, off, too. I'm also thinking that was a dumb idea, now, though. I just needed some wine before I walked over to you because… You make me nervous. Jenna asked me about you, and I said you were stunning and like the perfect person. That's how this whole thing got set up. I just was too nervous to tell you 'hi' when walking in." She admitted softly. The admission cause (Y/n) to lose that guilty feeling that was heavy on her chest before she leaned in. Olivia followed in the motion, their lips connecting gently.

They were both lost in the feeling before the bar tender told them they couldn't make-out there. So, (Y/n) pulled away, paid for both of their drinks, and left a big tip before leading Olivia out of the building. Olivia had taken her to her car, dropping (Y/n)'s assumptions that Jenna had dropped her off as well. This was a good thing because now, as two celebrities who were followed constantly by paparazzi, they had a sense of privacy. (Y/n) drew Olivia back in and the two kissed for long moments until they couldn't breath anymore.

"Just so you know… I'm going to take you out now. This time, without Jenna finding her way into the relationship." She joked, causing Olivia to grin widely. Their lips were reconnected, and the two knew that they about to be so lost in each other for what very well might be forever, with any luck.

[itsnotyouithink]

superstar

pairing: jenna ortega & reader

summary: you're a singer, and jenna thinks you're a superstar

word count: 1.6k

Jenna had always been adamant in interviews and podcasts that she wasn't looking for a partner.

The notion of opening herself up to someone, of sharing her most intimate and vulnerable sides, was terrifying to her.

She'd often say that the industry was already a whirlwind, and adding a relationship into the mix seemed like a recipe for disaster.

Her words resonated with a certain conviction, leaving fans and followers convinced that Jenna was dedicated solely to her career and personal growth.

Hence, when news broke that Jenna had met someone, the world was taken aback.

And her family, who had long accepted her stance on relationships, were particularly stunned.

What made it even more astonishing was that her partner was not just anyone but a singer. The very idea seemed to clash with everything Jenna had previously expressed.

If anyone had expected Jenna to find love, it would have been with someone far removed from the spotlight, someone who could offer a grounding presence amidst the chaos of fame.

Yet, there she was, completely enchanted by you, whose life was as much in the public eye as hers.

Your talent and passion had pierced through Jenna's carefully constructed walls, revealing a side of her that no one had ever seen.

It was an unexpected connection, but it was real, and it transformed Jenna in ways she had never imagined possible.

You were her age, having started singing at a tender age, your voice a gift that quickly became your solace.

From the early days of strumming a guitar in your bedroom to performing on small stages, your journey was one of both talent and resilience.

Your songs were deeply personal, often touching on themes of mental health, a reflection of your own struggles since your teenage years. The raw honesty in your lyrics resonated with many, turning your pain into a source of comfort for others.

Jenna admired you not just for your musical prowess but for your courage.

In a world where vulnerability was often masked, you stood as a beacon of authenticity. You spoke openly about your battles with anxiety and depression, both in your music and in interviews.

Your willingness to share your story in hopes of helping others, struck a chord with Jenna.

She saw in you a kindred spirit, someone who navigated the complexities of fame with a heart wide open, unafraid to show the scars that came with it.

The openness, the fearless confrontation of your inner demons, was what drew Jenna to you.

It was no surprise that the two of you had found each other, you were both well looking and had surprisingly more similarities than anybody would thought.

Your fame had skyrocketed over the years, just like hers had.

Sold-out arenas, chart-topping albums, and countless awards had become part of your daily reality.

You were recognized wherever you went, your face gracing the covers of magazines and your name trending on social media.

Just like Jenna; two of the biggest stars in the entertainment industry to end up together was something nobody had expected.

Despite your immense popularity, you remained grounded, always remembering the humble beginnings that shaped you.

The magnitude of your success was undeniable.

Fans across the globe found solace in your music, drawn to the sincerity of your lyrics and the powerful way you connected with your audience.

Your concerts were not just performances but communal experiences where people came together, united by the themes of your songs.

Interviews and talk shows frequently featured you, not only to discuss your latest projects but to delve into the deeper conversations about mental health that you championed.

Jenna couldn't help but be captivated by how you balanced the pressures of fame with an unwavering commitment.

It was this genuine openness, this ability to remain true to yourself amidst the chaos of fame, that drew Jenna to you like a magnet.

Despite your hectic schedules and the constant media attention, your relationship flourished in the quiet moments away from the spotlight.

There were times you often found yourself on set with her, quietly supporting her through long days of filming.

Whether it was bringing her coffee during early morning shoots or simply being there to listen during breaks, you made sure she knew you were always by her.

Likewise, Jenna joined you on tour, even if just few times. Those moments were rare but cherished, her presence bringing a sense of calm amidst the chaos of your busy life on the road.

She would watch from the wings as you performed, a proud smile on her face, supporting you in the way only she could.

At home, the connection between you two deepened in ways Jenna never had anticipated.

There were nights when she'd sit on the edge of the bed or curl up on the couch, watching you play your guitar and sing just for her.

The closeness of those moments, your voice soft and full of emotion, always sent a thrill through her.

More than once, she'd found herself unable to resist you, her desire building until she was straddling your lap, the vibrations of your music moving through her.

Which had ended up in her getting off on your thigh multiple times as you played, your voice serenading her into bliss.

Jenna loved you in a way she'd never loved anyone before. You were everything she didn't know she needed, the only person who truly understood her.

She often marveled at the thought that you were all hers, unable to fully grasp how someone as incredible as you had chosen her.

Whether you were strumming a guitar at home or belting out lyrics on stage, you captivated her completely.

You were the only one she wanted, the only one who made her feel this intensely.

When you performed was when all of those thoughts overflowed.

On stage, you were magnetic, your voice powerful and sultry, sending shivers down her spine. And when you danced, it was as if the music lived in your body, every movement fluid and mesmerizing.

Jenna couldn't take her eyes off you.

She adored the outfits you wore—revealing pieces that clung to your body, accentuating every curve.

She understood why you chose them; the heat from the lights and the crowd demanded something breathable, but there was no denying the allure they added to your presence.

She found your voice captivating, sexy almost, whether it was the soft croon she heard at home or the commanding, electrifying sound that filled arenas.

Each note you sang and every step you took drew her in deeper, reminding her that despite all the eyes on you, you were hers alone.

Jenna admired you fiercely. Every time she watched you perform, she fell a little more in love, unable to understand how she was lucky enough to have you.

The way you owned the stage, the way your voice and dancing wrapped around her heart, left her breathless.

She loved watching you perform. For reasons that went beyond the obvious.

It wasn't just for the music or the energy of the crowd. There was something deeper, more personal, in the way she observed you on stage.

How deeply you connected with your audience, but even more so by how much of yourself you gave in each performance.

She knew every movement, every note came from a place that only understood. And that knowledge made it all more thrilling.

But what really drove her wild was what came after.

The sex afterwards was incredible.

You'd come of stage, still pulsing with the energy of the performance, and she could feel the heat radiating off you.

The way you'd pull her close, your hands exploring as if you couldn't wait another second. Your touch demanding and urgent, made her knees weak.

Those nights, when you were still on fire from the adrenaline, were her favorite.

If something hadn't gone the way you wanted; a missed note, a technical glitch, or someone who'd pissed you off backstage — Jenna knew she was in for it.

You'd take that frustration and channel it directly into her, the way you'd push her against the wall, not wasting a second, your intensity making her shiver with anticipation.

She craved those moments, the way your hands would be rougher, your kisses hungrier. The way you'd take control, leaving her breathless and utterly consumed by you.

Jenna loved every second of it, the raw unapologetic need that you unleashed after a show.

It was the side of you that only she got to experience, and it was addictive.

After every show, after the adrenaline had faded and the passion between you two had cooled to a gentle warmth, it was the quiet moments that Jenna cherished the most.

Lying in bed together, your bodies tangled in the sheets, she would trace the lines of your face, marveling at how someone so fierce on stage could be so tender with her.

It was in those moments that she realized just how much she loved you—not just for the superstar the world saw, but for the person you were when it was just the two of you.

No matter how hectic your lives became, no matter the miles between sets and stages, the connection you shared remained unshakeable.

You both had your own worlds, your own battles to fight, but in each other, you found a refuge, a place where you could be completely yourselves.

And as she drifted off to sleep beside you, Jenna knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, nothing could change the way she felt.

You were a star, but more importantly, you were her star, and she wouldn't trade that for anything in the world.

[itsnotyouithink]

LIZA COLÓN-ZAYAS accepts the Best Supporting Actress in a Comedy Series award for ‘The Bear' at the 76th Primetime Emmy Awards — September 15, 2024

[itsnotyouithink]

superstar

pairing: jenna ortega & reader

summary: you're a singer, and jenna thinks you're a superstar

word count: 1.6k

Jenna had always been adamant in interviews and podcasts that she wasn't looking for a partner.

The notion of opening herself up to someone, of sharing her most intimate and vulnerable sides, was terrifying to her.

She'd often say that the industry was already a whirlwind, and adding a relationship into the mix seemed like a recipe for disaster.

Her words resonated with a certain conviction, leaving fans and followers convinced that Jenna was dedicated solely to her career and personal growth.

Hence, when news broke that Jenna had met someone, the world was taken aback.

And her family, who had long accepted her stance on relationships, were particularly stunned.

What made it even more astonishing was that her partner was not just anyone but a singer. The very idea seemed to clash with everything Jenna had previously expressed.

If anyone had expected Jenna to find love, it would have been with someone far removed from the spotlight, someone who could offer a grounding presence amidst the chaos of fame.

Yet, there she was, completely enchanted by you, whose life was as much in the public eye as hers.

Your talent and passion had pierced through Jenna's carefully constructed walls, revealing a side of her that no one had ever seen.

It was an unexpected connection, but it was real, and it transformed Jenna in ways she had never imagined possible.

You were her age, having started singing at a tender age, your voice a gift that quickly became your solace.

From the early days of strumming a guitar in your bedroom to performing on small stages, your journey was one of both talent and resilience.

Your songs were deeply personal, often touching on themes of mental health, a reflection of your own struggles since your teenage years. The raw honesty in your lyrics resonated with many, turning your pain into a source of comfort for others.

Jenna admired you not just for your musical prowess but for your courage.

In a world where vulnerability was often masked, you stood as a beacon of authenticity. You spoke openly about your battles with anxiety and depression, both in your music and in interviews.

Your willingness to share your story in hopes of helping others, struck a chord with Jenna.

She saw in you a kindred spirit, someone who navigated the complexities of fame with a heart wide open, unafraid to show the scars that came with it.

The openness, the fearless confrontation of your inner demons, was what drew Jenna to you.

It was no surprise that the two of you had found each other, you were both well looking and had surprisingly more similarities than anybody would thought.

Your fame had skyrocketed over the years, just like hers had.

Sold-out arenas, chart-topping albums, and countless awards had become part of your daily reality.

You were recognized wherever you went, your face gracing the covers of magazines and your name trending on social media.

Just like Jenna; two of the biggest stars in the entertainment industry to end up together was something nobody had expected.

Despite your immense popularity, you remained grounded, always remembering the humble beginnings that shaped you.

The magnitude of your success was undeniable.

Fans across the globe found solace in your music, drawn to the sincerity of your lyrics and the powerful way you connected with your audience.

Your concerts were not just performances but communal experiences where people came together, united by the themes of your songs.

Interviews and talk shows frequently featured you, not only to discuss your latest projects but to delve into the deeper conversations about mental health that you championed.

Jenna couldn't help but be captivated by how you balanced the pressures of fame with an unwavering commitment.

It was this genuine openness, this ability to remain true to yourself amidst the chaos of fame, that drew Jenna to you like a magnet.

Despite your hectic schedules and the constant media attention, your relationship flourished in the quiet moments away from the spotlight.

There were times you often found yourself on set with her, quietly supporting her through long days of filming.

Whether it was bringing her coffee during early morning shoots or simply being there to listen during breaks, you made sure she knew you were always by her.

Likewise, Jenna joined you on tour, even if just few times. Those moments were rare but cherished, her presence bringing a sense of calm amidst the chaos of your busy life on the road.

She would watch from the wings as you performed, a proud smile on her face, supporting you in the way only she could.

At home, the connection between you two deepened in ways Jenna never had anticipated.

There were nights when she'd sit on the edge of the bed or curl up on the couch, watching you play your guitar and sing just for her.

The closeness of those moments, your voice soft and full of emotion, always sent a thrill through her.

More than once, she'd found herself unable to resist you, her desire building until she was straddling your lap, the vibrations of your music moving through her.

Which had ended up in her getting off on your thigh multiple times as you played, your voice serenading her into bliss.

Jenna loved you in a way she'd never loved anyone before. You were everything she didn't know she needed, the only person who truly understood her.

She often marveled at the thought that you were all hers, unable to fully grasp how someone as incredible as you had chosen her.

Whether you were strumming a guitar at home or belting out lyrics on stage, you captivated her completely.

You were the only one she wanted, the only one who made her feel this intensely.

When you performed was when all of those thoughts overflowed.

On stage, you were magnetic, your voice powerful and sultry, sending shivers down her spine. And when you danced, it was as if the music lived in your body, every movement fluid and mesmerizing.

Jenna couldn't take her eyes off you.

She adored the outfits you wore—revealing pieces that clung to your body, accentuating every curve.

She understood why you chose them; the heat from the lights and the crowd demanded something breathable, but there was no denying the allure they added to your presence.

She found your voice captivating, sexy almost, whether it was the soft croon she heard at home or the commanding, electrifying sound that filled arenas.

Each note you sang and every step you took drew her in deeper, reminding her that despite all the eyes on you, you were hers alone.

Jenna admired you fiercely. Every time she watched you perform, she fell a little more in love, unable to understand how she was lucky enough to have you.

The way you owned the stage, the way your voice and dancing wrapped around her heart, left her breathless.

She loved watching you perform. For reasons that went beyond the obvious.

It wasn't just for the music or the energy of the crowd. There was something deeper, more personal, in the way she observed you on stage.

How deeply you connected with your audience, but even more so by how much of yourself you gave in each performance.

She knew every movement, every note came from a place that only understood. And that knowledge made it all more thrilling.

But what really drove her wild was what came after.

The sex afterwards was incredible.

You'd come of stage, still pulsing with the energy of the performance, and she could feel the heat radiating off you.

The way you'd pull her close, your hands exploring as if you couldn't wait another second. Your touch demanding and urgent, made her knees weak.

Those nights, when you were still on fire from the adrenaline, were her favorite.

If something hadn't gone the way you wanted; a missed note, a technical glitch, or someone who'd pissed you off backstage — Jenna knew she was in for it.

You'd take that frustration and channel it directly into her, the way you'd push her against the wall, not wasting a second, your intensity making her shiver with anticipation.

She craved those moments, the way your hands would be rougher, your kisses hungrier. The way you'd take control, leaving her breathless and utterly consumed by you.

Jenna loved every second of it, the raw unapologetic need that you unleashed after a show.

It was the side of you that only she got to experience, and it was addictive.

After every show, after the adrenaline had faded and the passion between you two had cooled to a gentle warmth, it was the quiet moments that Jenna cherished the most.

Lying in bed together, your bodies tangled in the sheets, she would trace the lines of your face, marveling at how someone so fierce on stage could be so tender with her.

It was in those moments that she realized just how much she loved you—not just for the superstar the world saw, but for the person you were when it was just the two of you.

No matter how hectic your lives became, no matter the miles between sets and stages, the connection you shared remained unshakeable.

You both had your own worlds, your own battles to fight, but in each other, you found a refuge, a place where you could be completely yourselves.

And as she drifted off to sleep beside you, Jenna knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, nothing could change the way she felt.

You were a star, but more importantly, you were her star, and she wouldn't trade that for anything in the world.

[itsnotyouithink]

Descendants | costume appreciation: 5/∞

costume design by Julia Caston and Emilio Sosa

Princess Bridget/Queen of Hearts | costume appreciation: 1/∞

DESCENDANTS: The Rise of Red

[itsnotyouithink]

this is so cute. the end melted my heart

A request for any character you think fits this prompt (?)

Y/n getting into a fight with someone and just getting dragged away by their partner, ahahah, fluffy and funny

pairings: bridget x gn!reader

genre: there’s a fistfight but it’s fluff!

warnings: semi-graphic violence, blood

note: i felt like i just had to go with bridget, because this dynamic works so well with her. reader is implied to be a villain because of their violent tendencies

you never gave much thought to cruella, beyond rolling your eyes at her bad attitude in passing, or ignoring countless rumours that always somehow involved her—whether she was the subject of them, or very clearly the one spreading them as some sort of smear campaign. but other than finding it just a bit amusing that she never grew up from playground insults, she was just another face in the crowd that wasn’t your handful of friends, so you didn’t care. 

but now? she’s made things personal, and you’ve decided—as you stand in the courtyard on a bitter winter day, but your body has never run hotter with fury—you despise cruella de vil. 

“what did you say?” you snarl, voice low like a threat as you stare down the haughty girl. 

“i said,” she stares right back at you, stupidly unafraid as she sees nothing more than someone so cowardly they remained so deep in the shadows at merlin academy, that she only ever heard about you because you’d started dating your polar opposite, “that the cinder girl’s burlap-sack look makes her look like a scarecrow.” 

your breaths are ragged as she so confidently insults ella, your only other friend outside bridget. if your head were a little less clouded by rage you’d probably find it funny that cruella doesn’t stop to think for a moment that, oh, perhaps you’re protective over your friends! instead she just grins callously at you like you haven’t been starting fights with anyone who so much as looks at you funny since you could talk. 

“i wouldn’t be saying things like that if i had your hair,” you tilt your head, all but daring her to keep going, see what that gets her. 

she scowls, hands unconsciously flying up to pat at the bird’s nest atop her head of wrinkled skin. 

“the stylists who work with these natural colours cost more money than you’ve ever even seen,” she snarls defensively, as if the whole school doesn’t know she dumps buckets of products on her head everyday. 

“oh, we all know it’s falling out from all that dye you put in it,” you curl your lips saccharinely, barring your teeth, “you’re practically shedding.” 

her breathing grows heavier as she finally starts to lose her wicked composure, red seeping into her eyes that dart skittishly around the courtyard, assuring no one hears a word you say; lest they get the wrong (right) idea and tell the whole school. 

you hear what sounds a growl identical to those of the dogs she claims to hate so much for being just as evil as she is, as she steps to you toe-to-toe, breathing her foul breath into your face and jabbing your chest with her atrocious bright red jagged nails. 

“at least i don’t wear my grandma’s pink pyjamas smothered in cheap glitter.” 

it’s a dumb, desperate attempt at an insult to try to win a fight she’s miserably losing—but you wouldn’t care if she so much as called bridget silly, because cruella just made the fatal mistake of insulting the one person you’d protect before even considering yourself, and you’re seeing red. 

you shove her, distancing her scrunched up face and whistling breaths as far away from you as you can, clenching your fists by your side and your jaw begging to bite at her neck and tear her throat out. 

your voice shakes with anger, as you demand, “say it again.” 

she takes the bait happily, thinking that you’ve grown angry beyond reason, and that getting such a reaction out of you is a win that ends here, of course with no consequences for herself. 

“what?” she rasps with a mocking pout, “that your loser girlfriend’s fashion sense hasn’t changed since she was five and colour-blind?” 

all you hear is the ringing in your ears as you lurch forward and punch her square in the nose. 

time slows as your fist aches and she curls in on herself, recoiling in horror with trembling hands cupping at the blood bursting out of her face, before looking up to you with a glare that might just kill if she didn’t look like a kicked puppy. 

the world spins you dizzy as she pounces at you, shoving you until your back collides with the ground and her knees messily dig into your legs and stomach. her mouth painted red is wide open—screeching at you in fuzzy words you wouldn’t bother listening to even if you could—as she clutches at your collar, frantically trying to hold you in place to raise a shaky fist of her own. 

your hands find her ratty hair and pull at her roots, clumps tearing from her dry skin, as her fingers repeatedly try and fail to find purchase on you strong enough to slam your head against the cobblestone path. 

you mercilessly tug at her head as she writhes in pain, ignoring the sting of her nails—digging into the exposed skin of your shoulders where your jacket has slipped down and she’s torn into your shirt, hopelessly scrambling for survival—and you jut your knees upwards to unbalance her, leaning up with all your might until she starts rolling to your right. 

she’s caught off guard as she tips and hits the cold hard ground, furious hands shooting up to the first sight she sees—nails aiming for their target in your bloodshot eyes flaring at sight of her jerking as your knees hit her stomach. 

towering over her, you stretch your head back to avoid her attempt to claw out your eyes, feeling the beginning of the pincer-sharp nails only just begin to graze the column of your throat, as you drop your hands to wrap around her neck and—

strong arms heave you off of cruella, dragging you halfway across the courtyard just as several of her own stuck-up friends wrestle her into their hold, whispering all sorts of pitiful excuses to save their friend from a losing battle about how you’re “not worth wasting her brand-new manicure on”.

just as you struggle against your capturer, she kicks and screams bloody murder across the yard at you, swearing in just a second she’ll be free and tearing you apart. 

“just you wait!” she shrieks, hands flapping waywardly and smacking a friend or two in the face. 

but the girls in dresses that cost as much as their parents pay to excuse their awful grades eventually wear down your enemy, and the arms wrapped snuggly around your torso are impossible to escape—so as the split-dyed devil parades out of sight with her nose in her air, you relent with a heaving sigh… and recognise a certain sickly sweet perfume, circling your head like the softest clouds when you inhale, with a sudden joy entirely opposing your fading wrath. 

bridget, still with her warm arms firmly holding you close from behind, finally speaks once she notices your breath steadying away from rapid gasps, “do you promise not to chase after her?” 

you whine ever so slightly, but are used to this routine by now, and know that if you don’t agree—and bridget will be able to tell from your gritted teeth and acidic tone if you lie—she’ll just stand here with you, patiently waiting out in the cold, until you truly calm down. 

so, you mutter a defeated, “yeah… i guess,” and feel her deceptively strong arms loosen around you. 

her right hand slips down to your left as you turn to finally face your beloved girlfriend, immediately lighting up at the very sight of her soft eyes and adorable outfit—but your thoughts quickly turn sour at the reminder of cruella’s jabs. 

“she said—” 

“it doesn’t matter what she said,” bridget immediately cuts you off, sensing a potential spiral miles away, “she’s not worth getting expelled over, sweetie.” 

your heart swells at the petname, unconsciously leaning into her—never quite getting enough of the endlessly endearing girl—even as you pout at her words. 

“aw,” she frowns sympathetically at you, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek, “i know exactly what will make you feel better, yeah?” 

you light up as she starts to steer the two of you up the stairs to the left, you practically skipping behind her now that your mind is (almost) entirely occupied with the all-encompassing serenity that you feel whenever bridget is nearby.

…though you can’t help the hopeful—malicious—glint in your eyes as you enthusiastically try, “are we going to set her dorm on fire? plant a skunk in her room? she sure looks like o—” 

“we’re going to bake, and you’re going to calm down,” she declares sweetly, leaving no room for objections—not that that stops you from groaning sadly at the idea of not getting revenge. 

she stops the two of you briefly, just before the stairs up to the dormitories, “we can make your favourite, and you can choose the decorations,” she plants a soft kiss on your lips, and successfully turns your frown upside down. 

you waste no time in rushing up the steps, looking back at her own growing grin as you cheer, “what are we waiting for, let’s go!”

[itsnotyouithink]

never recovering from this

Guess featuring Billie Eilish (official video)

[itsnotyouithink]

If a song could fuck you this would be it.

[itsnotyouithink]

MADELAINE PETSCH. Hunger Magazine.

[itsnotyouithink]

PLEASE

someone write a leah kateb x fem!reader fic rn idc if you dont think shes gay I WANT HER SO BAD

[itsnotyouithink]

FORMATION | dua lipa

SOCIAL MEDIA!AU dua lipa x fem!formula2!driver

side note: dua lipa is so insanely gorgeous omg side note pt2: funny thing is i also have a callum turner request in my inbox hahahahaha they are the sexiest couple rn

♡ liked by olliebearman, dennis_hauger and 89,283 others

yourusername using the summer break to take my mind off things

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user1 girl you're not reading jean paul sartre be so real right now ⤷ yourusername being educated is attractive

user2 isn't smoking like bad especially for an athelete? ⤷ yourusername i won't tell my trainer if you won't ;)

user3 you deserve a break after that media day at the barcelona day!

user4 you're literally my idol

user5 when i grow up i want to be like you (i'm literally 27)

♡ liked by dualipa, martagarcialopez19, olliebearman and 91,273 others

yourusername celebrating a win is just so much more fun when you do it with the person you love <3

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user6 okay so she definitely is dating another girl atm

user7 winner of the race and winner of another woman's heart... man i wanna be you so bad

user8 idk if i wanna be you or be with you

user9 wait... someone said dua lipa attended the f2 sprint and feature races and got white roses when y/n posted about white roses... ⤷ user10 if that's true then they unlocked a whole new level of soft launching

♡ liked by amnalqubaisi_official, dualipa and 71,273 others

yourusername everywhere i go, i see something that reminds me of your love

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user11 "songs we sing together" dua lipa is a singer ⤷ user12 and basically a poet (poésie) cuz she writes songs

user13 babe i'm unemployed i could literally go everywhere with you if you give me a chance! we wouldn't need to do long distance!

user14 your profile is literally my pinterest board at this point

user15 whoever is dating my baby better get onto the next plane and fly to her!

user16 sick and tireeeed of this soft launch i'm so over it

♡ liked by dennis_hauger, dualipa, martagarcialopez19 and 93,283 others

tagged: dualipa

yourusername happy birthday ;)

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user17 I KNEEWWWW IT

user18 finally i can rest omg these past months have been a nightmare with all the hints and teasing

user19 WE'VE BEEN FREED FROM THE SOFT LAUNCH

dualipa thank you babes 🫶🏻 ⤷ yourusername love you! ❤️

user20 the gays have won today

[itsnotyouithink]

STEPHANIE NUR as AALIYAH AMROHI SPECIAL OPS: LIONESS (2023)

[itsnotyouithink]

YES GAYS!!!

Special Ops: Lioness - 1x07