ꜱᴛᴀʀ🩶

Summary~ The day is heavy and tense, filled with unspoken words and careful distance. Jenna feels colder, more guarded, and every interaction carries a weight that wasn’t there before. I spend most of the day trying to keep it together, searching for steadiness while everything between us stays unresolved quiet, fractured, and painfully charged.

Pairings~ Jenna Ortega x female reader

Tags~ wlw,angst(doomed yuri time)

WC: 1.6k

A/N: hello everyone hope you’re all having a wonderful day!! Enjoy the new chapter!!

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

The morning starts quiet.

Deceptively quiet.

Not the kind of quiet that feels peaceful. This one presses down on my chest, heavy and expectant, like the world is holding its breath just to watch me crack.

I wake up already tired.

My phone sits on the nightstand, screen dark, face-down. I don’t reach for it. I don’t want to see missed calls, unread messages, or worse nothing at all. Silence feels louder right now. Yesterday still echoes too clearly in my head, every look, every almost-touch, every word that landed wrong or didn’t land at all.

I stare at the ceiling longer than I should, replaying things I have no business replaying.

The way Jenna’s fingers brushed mine.

The way she stayed close, but never close enough.

The way her hoodie smelled faintly like my detergent when she wore it, like something that belonged to me even when it didn’t.

Eventually, I force myself up.

Getting ready is slow. Deliberate. Like if I move carefully enough, I can keep myself from falling apart before I even leave the apartment. I shower, dress, tie my shoes with more focus than they deserve. Anything to stay grounded.

It doesn’t work.

Her laugh creeps in anyway.

Her distance.

The way something between us shifted without either of us naming it.

By the time I step onto set, the place is already alive. Lights hang overhead, cables snake across the floor, crew members rush past with coffees and clipboards, walkie-talkies crackling nonstop. It’s loud, chaotic and normally comforting.

Today, it only makes the quiet inside me feel worse.

Jack is already somewhere near the main set, laughing too loudly as usual, trying to wrestle a prop sword out of an extra’s hands. Jasmin stands nearby, narrating the whole thing like it’s a nature documentary, her dry commentary cutting through the noise.

And then I see her.

Jenna.

She’s near craft services, hoodie pulled over her hair, mug in hand. She looks the same at first glance, controlled, composed, effortlessly magnetic. But something’s off. I can see it in the stiffness of her shoulders, the way her body angles just slightly away from me, like it’s instinct now.

My chest tightens before I can stop it.

“Morning,” I say, forcing casual into my voice as I approach.

She pauses.

Just for a beat.

Too long.

“Hey,” she replies.

That’s it.

No warmth. No softness. Just the word, flat and stripped down to obligation.

I tell myself I’m imagining it.

I tell myself not to spiral.

I spiral anyway.

The next hour drags like it’s fighting time itself. Every line I deliver feels hollow. Every cue slightly off. I’m hyperaware of where Jenna is at all times, where she stands, who she’s talking to, how often she looks everywhere but at me.

She adjusts around me. Steps back when our hands almost brush near props. Moves just far enough away to make the distance unmistakable.

And Mason God, Mason.

He floats through the set like he owns it. Easy charm. Easy laughter. He jokes with extras, teases Jack, makes Jasmin snort mid-sentence. And Jenna leans into it. Not obviously. Not overtly.

But enough.

She stands a little closer to him than she does to me. Laughs a little easier. Looks relaxed in a way she hasn’t looked with me all day.

Every small movement feels like a needle threading straight through my ribs.

Melissa notices. Of course she does.

She doesn’t say anything just watches. Neutral, careful, eyes flicking between Jenna and me like she’s measuring something fragile. When Mason tosses a joke my way, Melissa gives me a small half-smile, a subtle tilt of her head that feels like a warning.

Tread carefully.

First break hits, and I escape to the side area near the sinks, gripping my water bottle like it might hold me together. I fill it slowly, letting the sound of the water drown out my thoughts.

“Y/N.”

Jasmin’s voice is light, amused. I glance over to see her leaning against the counter, arms crossed, smirk already in place.

“You two,” she says, nodding vaguely toward the set. “Something’s up, huh?”

“What?” I ask too quickly, my hands freezing mid-motion.

She waves it off, but her eyes stay sharp. “Nothing. Just… vibes.”

That’s the problem.

Everyone feels it. Everyone sees it.

Everyone except me, apparently.

Across the room, Jenna laughs at something Mason says. It’s softer than usual, restrained but it still lands wrong in my chest. She stays near him between takes, nodding, reacting. Every second she doesn’t look my way feels deliberate.

Later, Jack corners me mid-conversation, rambling animatedly about something that happened off set earlier. His hands move dramatically, reenacting the entire thing like a one-man show.

Despite myself, a laugh slips out.

Soft at first. Then a little fuller.

My shoulders loosen just enough to give me away.

“See?” Jack grins. “I’m telling you. Absolute chaos.”

“Yeah,” I say, breathless, shaking my head. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” he bumps my shoulder lightly, “here you are.”

I smile again small, tired, but real.

I don’t notice her at first.

But across the set, Jenna looks up.

I feel it before I see it that familiar pull in my chest. When I glance over, she’s already looking away, but not fast enough for me to miss the way her expression falters.

She doesn’t look angry.

She looks conflicted.

Her fingers curl tighter around her mug, knuckles whitening slightly like she’s grounding herself. Something tight flickers behind her eyes, and my stomach twists.

For a second, I wonder if I imagined it.

Then Mason says something beside her, and she laughs too loud, too quick and I know I didn’t.

Lunch is worse.

The table is crowded, voices overlapping into a chaotic hum. Jack and Liana argue quietly over the last sandwich. Jasmin snickers at something Mason mutters under his breath. Melissa sits back slightly, watching the group like she’s balancing invisible scales.

Jenna sits beside Mason.

Not touching. Not overt. Just close enough.

Her shoulder brushes his when she laughs. Their knees almost touch under the table. It should mean nothing.

My hands curl into my lap anyway, nails pressing into my palms.

I tell myself not to look.

I look anyway.

By the time lunch ends, the tension is crawling under my skin. I catch her near the storage racks afterward, away from most of the noise. The air feels thinner there. Heavier. Private.

“Jenna,” I say quietly.

She stops. Turns halfway. Crosses her arms.

“What?”

The tone alone almost makes me retreat. Almost.

“This,” I gesture vaguely between us, frustration slipping through. “You’ve been distant. All day.”

She lets out a short, humorless laugh. “Have I?”

“Yes.”

Silence stretches. Thick. Pressing. She doesn’t look away fully, but she doesn’t really look at me either like she’s bracing for impact.

“I don’t want to get into it,” she finally says.

“Why not?” I ask, stepping closer despite the knot in my chest.

Her jaw tightens. “Because it’s not my place.”

“Not your-” I stop myself, inhale. “What does that even mean?”

She shrugs, defensive. “You’re allowed to have… distractions. Whatever they are.”

The words hit wrong. So wrong my stomach twists.

“What are you talking about?” I whisper.

For a split second, something cracks when she meets my eyes. Regret, maybe. Or hesitation.

“We should get back,” she says instead.

She turns to leave, and our fingers brush as she shifts a prop. Just barely. Enough to freeze me in place.

Her hand tenses.

Doesn’t pull away right away.

Neither do I.

The air between us hums, electric and unresolved.

Then she pulls back.

Later, I’m back at the sink again, refilling my water bottle for the third time when Jack steps beside me.

“She’s avoiding you,” he says quietly.

I sigh. “Yeah. I noticed.”

He nudges my shoulder gently. “Doesn’t mean she’s gone. Doesn’t mean you lost her.”

“I can’t tell anymore,” I mutter. “Everything feels… off.”

“One step at a time, Y/N,” he says, resting a steady hand on my shoulder. “Just breathe.”

I do.

Barely.

I try Melissa next. She steps aside from a small group, face calm as ever.

“You okay?” she asks.

“I don’t know,” I admit. “Jenna’s cold. And I-”

She lifts a hand gently. “I can’t tell you what she’s thinking. I won’t. But… give it space. You’ll figure it out.”

Vague. Protective. Exactly what I expected.

By the end of the day, I’m running on fumes. My movements slow. My smiles don’t reach my eyes. I rub the back of my neck when I think no one’s watching.

But she sees it.

I catch Jenna looking at me when she thinks I won’t notice. Something raw flickers across her face concern, conflict before she looks away.

For a second, it feels like she might step toward me.

For a second, I think she might say my name.

She doesn’t.

The set empties slowly. Props get packed away. Voices fade.

Jenna passes me without a glance.

Then one last brush.

Her hand grazes mine as she adjusts something she’s carrying. She doesn’t flinch. Neither do I.

She pulls away first.

And walks away.

Later, alone in my car, I sit with the engine off, the quiet pressing in.

My phone lights up my lap.

Jenna’s name.

I type.

Can we talk?

Delete.

I didn’t mean to make things weird. I just—

Delete.

I miss you.

I stare at it.

Then delete everything, lock my phone, and let my forehead fall against the steering wheel.

The want doesn’t fade.

The fear doesn’t either.

And somewhere between the two, everything stays unresolved.

Fractured.

Unsaid.

Summary~ Tension settles in where comfort used to be. A few misunderstandings, a lot of unspoken feelings, and distance that grows quietly until it can't be ignored

Pairings~ Jenna Ortega x female reader

Tags~ wlw, angst(doomed yuri time)

WC: 1.2k

A/N: hello everyone! im back now sorry for being gone for so long! im already jumping on chapter 8 as i post this hope you enjoy sorry its short </3

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

The morning starts wrong.

Not in a dramatic way. Nothing loud. Nothing that demands attention.

Just the quiet, creeping sense that something has already slipped out of place before you ever had a chance to touch it.

Your phone buzzes against the nightstand.

Once.

You blink awake, squinting at the dim light of early morning filtering through the blinds. For a second, your brain is still heavy with sleep, slow to connect meaning to sound. Then you roll over and see the screen.

One missed call.

A name you have not seen in months.

Your chest tightens before your thoughts catch up.

You do not move. You just stare. The phone feels heavier than it should in your hand, like it carries more than just a name. Old memories press in uninvited. A version of yourself you worked hard to leave behind knocking at the door.

You do not call it back.

You set the phone face down and lie there longer than you mean to, staring at the ceiling while your pulse slowly evens out. The quiet feels too loud.

By the time you drag yourself out of bed and start getting ready, you almost convince yourself it was nothing. A mistake. A moment that already passed.

Then your phone lights up again.

Chloë Grace Moretz: You alive? Haven’t heard from you in forever.

You freeze with your jacket half on.

Chloë is an old castmate. Someone from years ago. Someone who knows you from before this project, before this version of your life, before Jenna. The familiarity feels automatic. Easy. Safe in a way that does not demand anything from you.

It should not mean anything.

You hesitate anyway.

Then you answer.

You: Barely. Long shoot weeks will do that.

Chloë: Tell me about it. Kinda miss the chaos sometimes.

A quiet smile pulls at your mouth before you can stop it.

It is muscle memory. Shared exhaustion. Shared history. Nothing romantic. Nothing loaded.

You do not notice the second missed call that comes through while you are tying your shoes.

You do not see the name.

Set is already alive when you arrive.

Voices overlap. Lights hum as they warm. Someone laughs near wardrobe. A PA jogs past with a clipboard, nearly colliding with a rolling cart. It feels familiar. Grounding. Normal.

You almost relax.

Then you feel it.

That subtle pull in your chest. That instinctive awareness that always hits before your eyes ever find her.

Jenna stands near craft services, both hands wrapped around a mug. Your hoodie hangs loose around her shoulders, sleeves covering part of her hands. She looks tired. Controlled. Closed off in a way that makes your chest ache before you know why.

Your hoodie.

You step closer. “Morning.”

She turns.

There is a pause. Just long enough to notice.

“Hey.”

No smile. No warmth. Just the word.

It lands heavier than it should.

You tell yourself it is nothing. Everyone is exhausted. Everyone has off mornings.

Then your phone rings.

The sound feels too loud.

The name flashes across the screen.

Your ex.

Your breath catches.

Jenna’s eyes flick down before she can stop herself. A reflex. A glance that lasts half a second too long.

You step away instinctively, pressing decline, pulse pounding in your ears. The call stops.

Then starts again.

Your jaw tightens.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur to no one in particular, already moving away. You answer before you can stop yourself.

“What do you want?” you whisper sharply.

Across the room, Jenna watches your shoulders tense. The way your posture changes. The way your voice drops into something private. Something familiar.

She cannot hear the words.

Only the shape of them.

Only the fact that you turned away.

“Now is not a good time,” you say. “No. I said I’m done. Please don’t call me again.”

You hang up harder than necessary.

When you turn back, Jenna is already facing away, talking to Jasmin like nothing happened.

But everything feels different now.

The fracture spreads quietly.

You notice it in the way Jenna no longer drifts toward you between setups. In the way her gaze slides past you instead of catching. In the way her laugh sounds careful, controlled, like she is choosing when to let it exist.

You try to catch her eye.

She does not give you the chance.

Jasmin leans in as she passes you, voice low. “Did I miss something or is the air just… weird today?”

You exhale. “If you figure it out, let me know.”

During a lull, Chloë’s name lights up your phone again.

You do not answer.

You type instead.

You: Can’t talk today. On set. Hope you’re good though.

“Popular,” Mason says lightly, leaning against the counter beside you.

You lock your phone. “Just old stuff.”

He hums. “Seems like old stuff has good timing.”

You do not reply.

Across the room, Jenna laughs at something Mason says later. It is softer than usual. Careful. She stays near him longer than she needs to. Lets him fill space that used to belong to you.

Melissa watches everything from behind her sunglasses, unreadable but not blind.

Jack finds you near the monitors.

“You okay?” he asks quietly.

You shrug. “I’m fine.”

He does not move. Just watches you.

Your shoulders sag. “What.”

“Jenna thinks you’re into someone else.”

The words hit harder than you expect.

“What?”

“She won’t say it outright,” Jack continues. “But she thinks you are. Or that you already are.”

“That’s not true,” you say immediately.

“I know,” he says. “But she saw the calls. And the messages. And you disappearing.”

“She’s an old castmate,” you say, frustration creeping in. “A friend.”

Jack’s expression softens. “Does she know that?”

You open your mouth.

Close it.

The answer hurts too much to say out loud.

The next scene falls apart.

You feel it before the director says anything. The way Jenna angles her body away. The way she pulls back first when you get too close.

“Cut.”

Again.

“Something’s off,” the director says. “You’re holding back.”

You swallow hard.

During break, you finally follow her outside.

“Jenna.”

She stops. Does not turn.

“What.”

“Can we talk?”

She faces you, arms crossed. Guarded. Tired.

“You’ve been distant,” you say softly.

She lets out a short laugh. “Have I.”

“Yes.”

She looks past you, jaw tight. “I don’t want to do this.”

“Why.”

“Because it’s not my place,” she says. “You’re allowed to want whoever you want.”

“That’s not what this is.”

“Then what is,” she asks, eyes finally locking onto yours.

You open your mouth.

Someone calls her name.

She looks away first. “We should get back.”

The moment collapses.

By wrap, the distance feels solid. Heavy.

People scatter. Bags slung over shoulders. Conversations fade.

Jenna leaves without looking back.

Your hoodie stays on her.

Everyone goes their separate ways.

Summary~ Morning warmth blurs into quiet tension, and what was once easy suddenly feels fragile. Between unspoken words, sidelong glances, and a borrowed hoodie, you start to realize some moments linger longer than they should.

Pairings~ Jenna Ortega x female reader

Warnings: slight mentions of alcohol

Tags~ wlw

WC: 3.2k

A/N: hello everyone!! sorry for the long wait hope you enjoy! expect the next chapter sometime soon!!

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

The first thing you felt was warmth. A heavy, grounding warmth pressed against your side, paired with the faintest tickle of hair brushing your jaw. For a moment, you didn’t realize where you were, your brain still half-drowning in sleep. The dim light of early morning crept through the blinds, soft and hazy, revealing her curled figure pressed against you.

Jenna was asleep, her body molded against yours as if you were the only anchor she had in the world. One arm looped across your middle, her palm resting just under your ribs, fingers lightly curling into the fabric of your shirt. Her leg was draped over yours, toes just brushing your ankle, and the blanket had twisted between you both. Somehow, she had tangled herself around you so completely that it was almost comical but the sight made your chest tighten. You barely dared to breathe.

The chaos of last night, the tipsy flirtations, the playful clinginess was gone now. Instead, she looked calm, almost delicate, a faint crease in her brow giving away the tiny residue of possessiveness even in dreams. When you shifted slightly, trying to move without waking her, her fingers tightened instinctively, clutching your shirt. A small groan escaped her lips as she pressed closer.

Your heart stuttered. Carefully, you rested your hand on her arm.

“It’s okay, Jenna,” you whispered, even though she couldn’t hear you.

Slowly, you pried her fingers loose, easing her grip, careful not to wake her fully. She shifted onto her back, curling slightly, but remained asleep. Relief mixed with disappointment settled in your chest.

Finally, you forced yourself to get up, padding softly toward the kitchen. Jenna’s home was quiet, a stark contrast to the party at Melissa’s last night. No laughter, no yelling, no flying popcorn just the quiet hum of the morning.

You opened cupboards, took out eggs, bread, and a pan, and got to work. Toast browned, water poured into a glass, and you lined up painkillers neatly beside it. Each action was slow, deliberate, giving you a moment to breathe and collect your thoughts.

A note was scribbled hastily but sincerely:

Hope you’re okay. Hydrate, rest, and recover so you don’t have Melissa yelling at you later. See you on set.

Placing the tray and note on the nightstand, you lingered just long enough to take in the sight of her curled on the pillow, curls spilling softly, lips parted slightly in sleep. One last glance, then you turned and left, careful not to disturb the fragile peace.

Melissa texted mid-morning.

Melissa: brunch? please say yes

You: depends. you paying?

Melissa: dream on. Bella’s in 20

The café smelled like roasted beans and fresh pastries, warm air wrapping around you as you stepped inside. Melissa was perched at a table, sunglasses propped atop her head, stirring her coffee with one hand, the other holding her phone.

“You look exhausted,” she said, smirking as you slid into the chair across from her.

“Good morning to you too,” you muttered.

Her grin widened. “Late night?”

You shot her a look, but she raised her hands in mock surrender.

“Okay, okay. I won’t poke. But you’re clearly carrying something. Talk?”

You exhaled, staring down at the steam rising from your coffee, watching it curl and dissipate as if it could carry away some of the weight in your chest. “She was… clingy. Like, really clingy last night. And I didn’t know what to do with it. One second it was cute, and the next it felt like I couldn’t breathe. But then this morning, she was just… quiet. Like none of it even happened.”

Melissa leaned back, stretching her arms across the back of the chair, swirling her spoon lazily in her coffee. “That sounds like Jenna.”

You blinked. “That’s it?”

She shrugged, looking unbothered. “I mean, she’s intense. You know that. When she wants you close, she makes sure you feel it. And when she pulls back, it’s like a switch flips. Doesn’t mean it’s bad, it just… is.”

You frowned, pushing your empty plate slightly forward, the toast crumbs scattering across the table. “Yeah, but what am I supposed to do? Last night it was…” You hesitated, searching for the word. “…overwhelming. And I don’t even know if she noticed. What if she thinks I didn’t like it? Or worse, what if she thinks I loved it and expects me to always be okay with it?”

Melissa’s expression softened. She leaned forward, resting her chin lightly on her hand. “Look, I get it. She’s… intense, but that doesn’t mean she’s impossible. And you’re allowed to feel… everything you’re feeling right now. Confusion, frustration, whatever. Doesn’t make you a bad friend, doesn’t make you… less than human.”

You looked up at her, half expecting the teasing smirk to reappear, but it didn’t. It was replaced by this rare, steady seriousness that made you pause.

“I just…” you murmured, stirring your coffee absently, “I don’t know what she wants from me sometimes. One moment I feel like she’s pulling me in, and the next she’s miles away. And now Mason’s suddenly…” You cut yourself off.

Melissa arched a brow. “Suddenly what?”

“Nothing,” you muttered quickly, forcing the words out before you could second-guess yourself.

Her smirk returned, softer this time, playful but not mocking. “Fine. Keep your secrets. But seriously… don’t eat yourself alive over it, okay? Jenna’s complicated, but so are you. Neutral advice: talk to her when you’re ready, and don’t overthink every second of it.”

You sighed, letting some of the tension in your chest loosen. “Thanks, Mel.”

“Anytime,” she said, lifting her mug in a mock toast. “Now eat your damn eggs before I do.”

You took a slow sip of your coffee, letting the warmth spread through you as Melissa leaned back and started half-listening to the café chatter, half-focusing on her phone.

“I mean,” she continued after a pause, “last night could have been… fun, right? She was clingy, yeah, but it’s also kind of cute. And maybe she doesn’t know how much you’re overthinking it. Maybe she doesn’t care. Or maybe she’s just… complicated too.”

You stared at your empty toast plate, chewing on the edge of your lip. “Complicated" isn't even the word. Sometimes I feel like I need a manual just to be around her.”

Melissa laughed softly, a short, amused sound that made the tension in your shoulders loosen a little more. “You’re not wrong. But hey, manuals aren’t fun. You just figure it out as you go. Trial and error.”

“Trial and error,” you echoed, the words tasting heavy, familiar. Your fingers drummed lightly against the table. “I just don’t want to… screw it up. Or hurt her feelings.”

Melissa leaned forward again, eyes serious, voice steady. “You won’t. Not if you’re honest with yourself. And with her. You don’t have to fix everything right now. Let it… be, for a second. Take a breath. Focus on the parts you actually enjoy. Don’t let the confusion ruin that.”

You nodded slowly, letting her words sink in. “Yeah… yeah, I guess.”

Melissa gave you a knowing look. “Exactly. Now, seriously. Eat something before I eat all your eggs too.”

You chuckled, picking up your fork, feeling the tension in your chest ease just a fraction. It wasn’t solved far from it but the act of talking, of sharing, gave you a small foothold in the chaos swirling around your feelings.

The set was chaos incarnate. Equipment had to be repositioned, costumes shuffled, and the makeup team was running around like mad. Extras wandered cluelessly, and every minor mistake echoed across the large space. Voices were sharp, movements hurried, and tension thickened the air like fog.

You arrived mid-rush, coffee in hand, eyes scanning the mess. Crew members darted between cameras, and the assistant director barked orders over the sound of clattering equipment.

“Hey! Can we get the lighting fixed before Jenna gets here?” someone shouted.

Too late she was already there.

Jenna moved through it all with that same quiet control you’d always admired. She was calm, professional, every movement deliberate, but there was something different today. Her gaze barely lingered on you. Short nods, clipped responses, averted glances. It wasn’t rude, exactly but it wasn’t her usual warmth, either.

You noticed it in the smallest things. When you walked past her and offered a quiet “Morning,” she didn’t look up from her script, just gave a quick “Hey,” before turning away again. When someone made a joke and the whole group laughed, her eyes skipped right over you.

Meanwhile, Mason was everywhere. He floated easily through the chaos, charming the costume team, joking with the extras, and occasionally drifting toward you.

“Rough morning?” he asked, stopping beside you while you flipped through your script.

“You could say that,” you said, glancing toward the crowded set. “Feels like we’re shooting a disaster movie before we even start.”

Mason chuckled, nudging your arm. “At least you look more awake than half the crew.”

You raised an eyebrow. “That’s a low bar.”

“Still counts,” he said, flashing a grin before he was called away.

You caught Jenna’s eyes flicker toward the exchange for just a second. Then she looked away.

Jack, Jasmin, and Liana added their usual brand of chaos. Jack was wrestling with a prop sword, spinning it like he was auditioning for a fantasy film.

“Watch the pointy end!” Jasmin yelled, ducking out of the way.

“It’s foam!” Jack protested. “Relax!”

Liana sighed dramatically from her seat, flipping through her script. “He says that until someone ends up with a concussion.”

Their banter earned a small smile from you but when your gaze found Jenna again, her expression was unreadable.

By the time filming began, the tension had settled into something heavy but unspoken. You hit your marks, delivered your lines, but the rhythm was off. There was a disconnect, a quiet friction that made every scene feel just slightly wrong.

“Cut!” the director called out. “Let’s take five!”

Jenna exhaled sharply and handed her prop to a crew member before walking off toward the corner of the set. A few minutes later, she caught your arm.

“Hey,” she said, voice low, urgent. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

You nodded, following her away from the noise. She stopped behind one of the lighting rigs, out of sight from most of the crew, crossing her arms as if holding herself together.

“I can’t believe this,” she muttered, more to herself than to you. “The extras don’t know their marks, props keep disappearing, and Mason keeps ad-libbing like he’s running the show.”

You hesitated. “He’s not that bad–”

She gave you a look. “He’s that bad. He’s improvising half his dialogue, and it throws everyone else off. I’m trying to keep the rhythm, but ” she sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “I’m just….tired.”

“Want me to step in?” you offered softly. “I could intercept him mid-scene.”

A tired laugh escaped her. “Don’t tempt me. You’d actually do it.”

“Depends on the hazard pay,” you teased, trying to ease the tension.

That earned you a small, reluctant smile, the kind that almost made the coldness melt away. Almost.

Her gaze lingered on you longer than necessary. “You’re… good at this,” she said finally, quiet. “Keeping things together.”

You shrugged. “I fake it well.”

“Still,” she said, softer now, “I appreciate it. Yesterday was… a lot.”

You froze. “Yeah,” you said slowly, careful with your tone. “It was.”

Something flickered across her face something like guilt, or maybe hesitation but before either of you could say anything more, the director’s voice boomed across the set.

“Positions! Let’s reset!”

She gave you one last look before straightening her shoulders and stepping back into the light, mask slipping perfectly back into place.

The rest of the afternoon blurred together. Between takes, Mason drifted by again, casually chatting as he grabbed a bottle of water.

“You holding up?” he asked, nodding toward your tired expression.

“Barely.”

He grinned. “At least you’re honest.”

You smiled faintly. “Can’t fake charisma like yours.”

“Hey, it’s all smoke and mirrors,” he said with a wink before heading off again.

When you turned, Jenna was watching from across the room. She looked away the second your eyes met hers.

Her demeanor changed after that her lines sharper, tone clipped, every laugh forced. Even when Jack cracked jokes or Jasmin’s commentary sent half the crew into fits of laughter, Jenna barely reacted.

Jack, oblivious, started another mock wrestling match with Mason, while Jasmin provided a dramatic narration like a sports commentator.

“And in the left corner Jack ‘the Menace’ Champion!”

“Put me down before I quit!” Mason laughed, trying to wriggle free.

Liana rolled her eyes, arms crossed, muttering, “Children. Actual children.”

You laughed despite yourself, the sound cutting through the static tension in the air. For a moment, it felt normal again, easy, light, the way it used to be.

Then you caught sight of Jenna, standing a few feet away, her expression unreadable again, arms crossed. The laughter faded in your chest.

Eventually, the chaos died down, and the director finally called it. Everyone sagged with exhaustion, makeup smudged and voices hoarse.

Melissa was the first to break the silence. “Alright, post-battle celebration at my place. Movie night. Everyone’s invited, no excuses.”

Jack whooped. “If there’s popcorn, I’m there.”

Jasmin raised her hand. “Only if I pick the movie this time.”

“Absolutely not,” Liana said flatly. “We’re not watching another one of your experimental art films.”

Laughter rippled through the group, easing the earlier tension. Even Jenna smiled faintly, though she didn’t look directly at you.

By the time everyone piled into Melissa’s living room, the chaos of the day had drained into a collective exhaustion. Blankets and pillows covered the couch, the faint smell of buttered popcorn and warm fabric softener hanging in the air. Melissa dimmed the lights, throwing the room into that cozy half-dark where laughter came easier, where exhaustion felt like comfort instead of weight.

Jenna was already there when you arrived curled up on the couch, legs tucked beneath her, wearing your hoodie. The sight hit harder than you expected. It hung loose on her, sleeves slightly covering her hands, the faintest trace of your detergent still clinging to the fabric. She didn’t look at you immediately, just sipped from her mug and listened to whatever Jasmin, who was in the middle of some animated retelling of a behind-the-scenes disaster, hands flailing, words spilling faster than anyone could follow. Jenna just listened quietly, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips as she sipped from her mug, her eyes catching the soft glow from the TV screen.

You took a seat a few cushions away close enough to feel the shared warmth of the room, far enough that the space between you felt deliberate. Intentional. A few minutes later, Melissa tossed a folded blanket at your lap with a pointed look that said, don’t overthink it.

“Not planning on it,” you muttered, though you were already doing exactly that.

The movie started, chatter fading until only the low hum of dialogue and the occasional laugh remained. Jasmin couldn’t help herself, whispering quips about the actors’ expressions. Jack kept snickering at overly dramatic scenes, earning a few shushes that he completely ignored. Mason lounged on the floor with a pillow under his chin, tossing popcorn into the air and missing at least half the time.

You tried to focus on the movie, but your eyes kept wandering back to Jenna. She didn’t seem cold anymore, just unreadable. Occasionally, her gaze flicked toward you, like she was checking if you were still watching her. Every time it happened, something tightened in your chest.

Halfway through, Melissa paused the movie to grab more snacks, and the room dissolved into low, sleepy conversation.Jenna shifted slightly, pulling her legs closer, the hoodie’s hood slipping up over her messy hair.

“You okay?” she asked quietly, voice barely above the soft murmur of background chatter as her eyes on you.

You hesitated, unsure how to answer. “Yeah. Just tired.”

Her lips curved into the faintest smirk. “You look it.” Her tone wasn’t sharp, but there was something behind it an edge of amusement laced with something softer, something closer to concern.

“Long day,” you said, rubbing at the back of your neck.

“Mm.” She hummed softly, eyes flicking toward your face, then back to her mug. “You still made it.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Here,” she said simply, a small shrug. “You could’ve gone home. Slept. But you came.”

The words lingered, heavy with meaning she didn’t name. Before you could respond, Melissa’s voice cut through the quiet something about the snacks being ready and the lights dimmed again.

When the lights dimmed again, Jenna scooted a little closer, under the pretense of reaching for the popcorn bowl between you. Her arm brushed yours, her knee barely grazing your leg. The scent of her shampoo mixed with the faint warmth of your hoodie, and your pulse jumped before you could steady it.

You reached for popcorn at the same time she did. Your hands met.

Neither of you moved.

Her thumb traced the edge of your fingers barely there, almost accidental but it was enough to send a jolt through you. When you looked at her, she was already watching, eyes steady, expression unreadable except for the faintest upward curve at the corner of her mouth.

Jasmin noticed, of course. “Oh my god, are you–”

“Jasmin,” Melissa interrupted without looking away from the TV. “Movie.”

The room burst into quiet laughter, and the tension broke, at least outwardly. But Jenna didn’t move her hand. Her fingertips lingered against yours, barely touching, but constant.

The movie played on. Time stretched strangely, minutes felt slower, heavier, like every heartbeat echoed in that small space between you. You didn’t look at her again, not fully, but you felt her there. The subtle brush of fabric, the quiet rhythm of her breathing, the warmth of her thigh near yours.

By the time the credits rolled, the room had softened into content quiet. Jack yawned dramatically, Mason started arguing with Liana about the ending’s “symbolism,” and Jasmin was already queuing bloopers on her phone.

Jenna leaned back, stretching slightly, her hand finally slipping away. The absence of contact felt louder than the movie’s closing music.

“You heading out soon?” she asked, voice low, her eyes still fixed on the TV.

“Yeah,” you said, though you didn’t move yet. “You?”

“Probably.” She adjusted the hood again, a tiny smirk tugging at her lips. “You left this last night. Figured I’d save you the trouble of asking for it back.”

You huffed out a quiet laugh. “You planning on keeping it?”

Her eyes met yours for a long moment, something unreadable flickering there. “Maybe.”

Before you could respond, Melissa called something from the kitchen, breaking the moment. The room stirred to life again, people stretching, collecting their things, trading quiet jokes as they made for the door.

Jenna stood, pulling her hood up again. “See you tomorrow,” she said softly, almost like a promise, almost like a warning.

When the night finally wound down, everyone drifted out in pairs or small groups. You and Jenna went your separate ways.

The drive home was quiet, headlights slicing through the empty streets. You gripped the steering wheel tighter than necessary, your mind looping through every small moment the warmth of her hand, the weight of her leaning close, your hoodie hanging loose on her shoulders.

Summary~ During a much-needed break from filming, Melissa hosts a lively hangout for the cast filled with games, laughter, and a fair bit of chaos. Amid the playful energy, you find yourself caught between lighthearted moments with friends and Jenna’s increasingly tipsy attention moments that blur the line between simple fun and something far more personal.

Pairings~ Jenna Ortega x female reader

Warnings: mentions of alcohol

Tags~ wlw

WC: 1.3k

A/N: hellooo everyoneeee hope you enjoy

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

The cast had a rare break from filming, so Melissa had invited everyone over for a casual hangout at her place a little unwind before the next round of long shooting days. You’d driven over, music in the car keeping your nerves calm, reminding yourself this was just supposed to be fun. The house was cozy and warm, dimly lit with candles, snacks scattered across tables, and the faint smell of Melissa’s cooking lingering in the air. It immediately felt like a space to let go, a break from scripts and sets.

The moment you walked in, the energy hit you like a wave. Jasmin was in full chaos mode, juggling a pile of cards while narrating each action like a hyperactive game show host. Mason and Jack were tangled in some sort of debate over a board game, gesturing wildly, laughter spilling out of both of them. Liana perched elegantly on the sofa armrest, smirking at everyone but commenting just enough to keep the drama going.

And Jenna… she leaned casually against the counter, glass in hand, tipsy but looking effortlessly composed. Her attention, however, was laser-focused on Mason, laughing too loudly at his jokes, leaning into him mid-game, and nearly tripping over his feet more than once.

You quietly claimed a spot near the snacks, just far enough to observe. The night kicked off with a mix of card games, board games, and a few silly dares. Mason, spotting you from across the room, grinned and waved you over.

“Come help me figure out this puzzle,” he said conspiratorially. “I need someone smart to bail me out.”

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You? Bailed out? That’s new.”

He nudged you playfully. “Hey, don’t make me regret trusting you.”

It was a small, harmless interaction, but it made your chest feel lighter amid the chaos.

The games escalated. At one point, Mason tried balancing a stack of cups on his head while dancing to a song Jasmin put on, causing everyone to erupt in laughter. Jack lunged at him in mock sabotage, nearly sending them both crashing into the snack table. Popcorn flew. Liana shrieked, diving to save the last cookie. Melissa sighed, half-amused, half-exasperated, trying to maintain some semblance of order.

Jenna, tipsy and giggling, spun around mid-laugh and almost collided with you. “Whoa! Careful, you!” she slurred, catching herself on your shoulder. Her fingers lingered a moment longer than necessary, teasing, almost handsy in a way that made your heart stutter.

You chuckled nervously, brushing her hand lightly off. “Maybe watch where you’re going,” you murmured, hiding the heat rising in your cheeks.

Her lips twitched into a playful, mischievous smile. “I could, but I’d rather crash into you.”

You blinked, caught off guard, and she winked before spinning back toward Mason. Your chest tightened as she leaned into him again, whispering something that made him chuckle softly.

You tried to refocus on the game, but your eyes kept darting back. She was tipsy definitely more uninhibited than usual. And somehow, amidst all the chaos, she was throwing little glances your way, fingers brushing yours accidentally as she reached for a snack or laughed too close.

Finally, you decided it might be best to step away, claiming you were going to refill your drink, though really, you needed a moment to breathe. You made your way toward the kitchen, hoping for a little calm.

Just as you were about to leave, Jenna stumbled after you, gripping your arm. “Don’t… leave me,” she mumbled, leaning heavily against you, breath warm against your neck. You steadied her, one arm around her waist.

“I’m not going anywhere… but maybe you should sit?” you said softly, trying to keep her upright.

Her fingers tightened around your arm, and she muttered incoherent, half-drunk words, but some of her sentences got clear enough to sting.

“Why… you looking at him?” she slurred, pointing vaguely toward Mason, who was now wrapped in a chaotic hug with Jack. “Look…at me…not.…him…”

You froze, face burning. “Jenna…what?”

She pouted, glossy-eyed, leaning into you. Her hands moved to your shoulders, tugging gently, insisting you pay attention to her. “Want… me… not… him…” she muttered, swaying slightly.

You swallowed, flustered, unsure how to respond as she leaned against you, holding onto your arm like an anchor. Every so often she giggled, muttering half-coherent complaints about Mason while pressing closer. Her fingers brushed against your side, then wrapped around your arm again, clingy in a way that made your pulse race.

From behind, the chaos inside continued. Jack and Mason wrestled, sending a bag of chips flying. Liana and Jasmin laughed uncontrollably at Melissa, who was trying and failing to maintain composure while Mason pretended to nearly crush her in a hug. You glanced back, heart sinking a little as Jenna’s focus drifted again, whispering complaints and mumbling jealous words incoherently about Mason, yet still pressed into you.

“I… can’t… leave,” she muttered against your chest, barely coherent. Her hands slid to clutch your arm again, nails lightly digging, grounding her to you. You let her, careful not to lose balance, and guided her outside.

The cool night air was a relief, though Jenna clung to you the moment you stepped out. “Drive… me…” she murmured, wrapping one arm around your waist and keeping the other gripping your arm. You opened the car, helping her inside, careful as she swayed slightly, clutching your arm like she’d fall without it.

The ride was quiet but intimate. Her head rested lightly on your shoulder while her hand stayed wrapped around your arm, fingers squeezing now and then as she muttered soft, half-drunk words that made your heart hammer in ways you didn’t expect. She wasn’t complaining anymore, her words blurred into half-formed compliments, mumbled mentions of you being “sweet” or “warm,” soft enough that you weren’t sure if you were meant to hear them.

Arriving at her house, you gently helped her out of the car, still holding her steady. She leaned against you, her grip never loosening, muttering sleepy fragments of words as you guided her to her bedroom.

You helped her onto the bed, tucking her in carefully. She sighed contentedly, curling slightly toward you, fingers still clutching your arm. Then, suddenly, she tugged again, dragging you down with her. You landed beside her, startled, as she curled against your chest, arms draping lazily across you.

“Stay… don’t… go,” she mumbled, tipsy and utterly clingy. Her lips brushed your shoulder, soft and warm. She nuzzled into you, half-coherent words slipping out between sleepy sighs, some too mumbled to catch, some just soft fragments that made your chest tighten.

You let out a quiet laugh, careful not to move too much. Her weight was light but determined, fingers tangling in your clothes lightly, holding onto you as if the world had shrunk to this tiny bed.

“I… I’ll stay,” you whispered, adjusting slightly so she could get comfortable without being crushed.

She hummed, shifting slightly to press closer. “Good… only you…” she murmured, words blurred by sleep but carrying a weight that made your breath catch.

Summary~ After a grueling day of filming, exhaustion sets in for the whole cast. Between takes, you and Jenna find a rare quiet moment trading insecurities, small gestures, and laughter that feels heavier than it should. By the end of the night, the tension between you lingers, subtle but impossible to ignore.

Pairings~ Jenna Ortega x female reader

Warnings: angst if you squint hard enough

Tags~ wlw

WC: 1.4k

A/N: I hope you enjoy!

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

The day stretched on forever. Tense scenes, one after the other, heavy dialogue that seemed to demand more emotion than you thought you could muster. Every take left you a little more wrung out, like the director was squeezing every last drop of energy from the cast. By midday, even Jack had gone quiet, something you thought impossible. He lay sprawled across a folding chair, arms flopped dramatically, iced coffee half-melted in the cupholder beside him.

Liana sat nearby, eyes glued to her phone, her lips quirking occasionally at whatever she was reading. Mason leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, humming low, clearly fighting sleep. Jasmin raided craft services for the fifth time, juggling gummy bears in her hand before tossing them into her mouth like she was running on pure sugar.

You, meanwhile, felt like your whole body might fold in on itself. You’d lost track of how many times the director had said, “Again, from the top.” Your script pages were smudged at the edges, fingers cramped from clutching them all day.

Still, when you glanced across the set, Jenna looked… steady. Exhausted, yes the faint shadows under her eyes proved that but still grounded. She’d tucked herself away on the stairwell at the edge of the set, leaning forward with her elbows braced on her knees.

Something about the quiet in her posture pulled you in. Before you even realized it, you were walking over, your feet carrying you to the step below hers.

“Long day,” you said, letting yourself sink into the step.

Her eyes flicked toward you, tired but warm. “Tell me about it. I thought my voice was going to give out halfway through.”

You huffed out a laugh. “Pretty sure I forgot how to blink somewhere around take twelve.”

That earned you a real smile, soft, fleeting, but enough to make your chest pull tight.

The silence that settled after wasn’t uncomfortable. Around you, crew members shuffled lights, adjusted props, muttered instructions into headsets, but the noise felt distant here. Jenna picked up her water bottle, twisted the cap off, then paused. She held it out toward you.

“Here. You look like you need this more than I do.”

You blinked, surprised. Still, you accepted, taking a sip before handing it back with a quiet, “Thanks.”

She gave a small shrug, settling back against the railing. “You handled today better than I thought you would.”

Your brows shot up. “Better than you thought?”

Her lips twitched, like she was amused by your reaction. “Tense scenes aren’t easy. A lot of people fold under pressure. You didn’t.”

“Barely,” you admitted with a weak laugh. “I kept thinking I was going to forget my lines or freeze up.”

She tilted her head, eyes catching yours. “Same.”

You blinked at her. “You? No way. You looked completely locked in.”

“That’s the trick,” she said softly. “You don’t show it, even when you feel it.” Her voice dipped quieter. “I’m always worried I’ll come off stiff, or not give enough. People expect me to nail it on the first try, and that pressure…” She trailed off, pressing her lips together.

You hesitated, caught off guard by the honesty. She didn’t say things like that often, not to you, not to anyone.

“You don’t show it,” you said, echoing her words back. “Not even a little. If anything, I spend half the scenes worried I look like a deer in headlights next to you.”

That drew a faint laugh from her, small but genuine. She reached out absently, brushing at your sleeve where a smudge of dust had gathered. The gesture was so natural, so unthinking, but it froze you in place.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” she murmured.

Your throat felt tight. You tried to shake it off with a laugh, but her words clung to you.

A call from the director broke the moment, pulling you both back. You stood, falling into step beside her as you rejoined the others.

Halfway through the next setup, you stumbled over a prop step, muttering a curse as your face flushed. Jenna laughed not sharp, not mocking, but low and warm. She leaned in just enough to nudge your arm with her shoulder. “Relax. I’ve done worse.”

You laughed too, tension easing, and for a second, it felt like the exhaustion didn’t matter anymore.

That’s when Jasmin’s voice rang across the set. “Well, well, look who decided to have a moment in the stairwell. Should we leave you two alone or…?”

Your entire face went hot. “Jasmin–”

Jack perked up instantly, grinning like a wolf. “Wait, what stairwell moment? Did I miss something? I knew it, I knew it!”

Melissa’s glare cut clean across the room. “Don’t start.” Her tone left no room for argument.

Jasmin raised her hands innocently, smirking. “Fine. But I’m just saying, I’ve got receipts.”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face, but Jenna just chuckled beside you, clearly entertained.

The rest of the day blurred together more takes, more exhaustion, more laughter in between when the crew caught mistakes.

By the time filming wrapped, everyone looked half-dead. Mason nearly fell asleep standing up. Liana muttered something about living off coffee forever. Jack insisted he’d been carrying the emotional weight of the whole production. Nobody humored him.

You were halfway through gathering your things when you felt yourself sinking against the back of a chair. The exhaustion hit all at once, heavy and unrelenting. The conversations around you blurred Jack joking, Liana groaning, Mason dragging his feet as your eyes drifted shut.

You only meant to rest them for a second. Just one. But the next thing you knew, the world had dulled into a haze of muffled laughter and shuffling footsteps.

“Hey.”

The voice was soft, right beside you. A light touch brushed your arm. You blinked awake to find Jenna crouched in front of you, her expression unreadable in the dim lighting of the near-empty set.

“You’re out cold,” she teased quietly. “C’mon, everyone’s heading home.”

You groaned, rubbing at your eyes. “I wasn’t asleep. Just… resting my eyes.”

Her smile said she didn’t believe you for a second. “Right. Well, unless you plan on moving into the set, you’re coming with me.”

“Jenna, I can call an Uber–”

“Don’t bother,” she interrupted gently, already slipping your bag off the back of the chair. “You’re too tired. I’ll take you.”

You blinked at her, ready to protest again, but the words died in your throat. She wasn’t bossy about it, just matter-of-fact, like she’d already decided for the both of you. And honestly? You didn’t have the energy to argue.

The drive was a blur. The low hum of her car, the soft glow of streetlights streaking past, her quiet presence beside you. You fought sleep at first, but the steady rhythm lulled you under again, head tipping against the window.

When you stirred, it wasn’t the car that caught your attention, it was her. Jenna had pulled on a hoodie, tugging the sleeves over her hands as she drove, one hand loose on the wheel. At first, you didn’t think much of it you were too tired to care but something about it tugged at the back of your mind. The color, the fit, the way it draped across her shoulders… familiar, in a way you couldn’t quite place.

Huh. That looks kind of like one I have. You dismissed the thought almost instantly. Coincidence. Probably just the style.

But then she said something under her breath to herself, and for a second you imagined she was laughing at Mason’s joke again, bright, easy, the kind of laugh that drew attention without trying. That small twist returned low in your chest, not sharp, just quiet and unwelcome. You shoved it down before it could stick.

By the time the car slowed, you’d nearly dozed off again.

“We’re here,” Jenna murmured.

You blinked, disoriented, realizing only when she guided you inside that you were standing in her house. The air smelled faintly floral, grounding you in its softness.

“Guest room’s this way,” she said, her voice hushed.

Too tired to process, you followed her into a neatly made room and all but collapsed onto the bed. A blanket was pulled over you, tucked gently around your shoulders.

“Stay here tonight,” Jenna said simply, pausing in the doorway. Her gaze lingered before softening. “Get some rest.”

Your eyelids were already slipping closed, but you managed a faint smile. “Thanks, Jenna…”

Summary~ It’s only acting, or at least that’s what you keep telling yourself. But standing across from Jenna, the lines blur. The teasing from the cast, Melissa’s knowing looks, the stolen glances that feel heavier than they should you’re not sure what’s real anymore. And maybe that’s what scares you most.

Pairings~ Jenna Ortega x female reader

Tags~ wlw

WC: 1k

A/N: hope you all enjoy this chapter!! how do we feel about 2 chapters in one week?

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

The morning light spilled across the set, bouncing off props and blue screens, bright enough to blur the edges of everything until it felt like a dream. For the first time, you were paired with Jenna in a scene that required real intimacy, and your stomach fluttered with nerves you didn’t bother hiding.

You’d shown up that morning in a hoodie, nothing special, just one of your favorites but Jenna’s eyes had lingered on it when you arrived. She’d brushed past you casually, fingertips grazing the fabric at your sleeve.

“Nice hoodie,” she said simply, almost offhand, though her gaze lingered a beat too long.

It shouldn’t have meant anything. It was just a hoodie. But the way her voice dipped lower, the way her lips twitched like she wanted to smile but stopped herself it left you walking to set with your pulse racing.

Melissa hovered nearby, clipboard in hand, watching with the eagle-eyed precision she carried everywhere. Jasmin darted around, snagging snacks from craft services and tossing out one-liners just to break focus, while Mason leaned casually against a wall, loud enough to entertain half the crew.

Jack was sprawled across a folding chair, sipping iced coffee like he hadn’t been up until three in the morning. Every now and then he smacked Liana with his call sheet, whispering fake stage directions like they were running some mission. She humored him with sharp elbows and eye-rolls, but her smile betrayed her.

“Quiet on set! Action!” the director clapped his hands.

The lines flowed naturally between you and Jenna at least, on the surface. But every beat carried a weight you hadn’t anticipated. She was mesmerizing. The way she tilted her head while listening, the slight lift of her brow at certain cues, the calm precision in her movements it made you forget half your own lines.

Melissa’s gaze caught yours briefly. “Relax,” she whispered, lips twitching with the faintest smile. Not scolding, not really just taking notes.

Then came the moment. Proximity, written in the script but loaded with something heavier. Jenna leaned closer than necessary, her voice dipping lower, her breath brushing against your cheek. Your chest tightened, and for a second you swore the world went quiet.

“Cut! Reset!” the director barked.

You barely stepped back before Jack cupped his hands around his mouth. “Yo, the tension was real that time! Should we leave you two alone?”

The crew cracked up, and Jasmin fanned herself dramatically. “Someone better put this in the credits,” she teased, earning another wave of laughter.

Liana tugged Jack back into his chair. “Don’t be a child,” she muttered, though she was smiling. “They’re acting.”

“Acting, sure,” Jasmin shot back. “But if this was a rom-com? We’d already be at the montage sequence.”

Heat rushed to your face. Jenna’s lips curved faintly, not a laugh, not quite a smile, something in between. Somehow, that made it worse.

You pushed through the next takes, determined to ignore the noise. Mason laughed at something Jenna said between lines, and there it was again that quick, sharp twist low in your chest. Not anger. Not even real jealousy. Just a quiet ache at how easily her laughter seemed to come when it was him drawing it out.

Melissa didn’t miss it. She never did. Pen scratching across her clipboard, she murmured under her breath, “Interesting.”

The director called, “Let’s reset. Again, from the top.”

You and Jenna shared a look. She raised an eyebrow like she was daring you to focus this time, and despite yourself, the corner of your mouth tugged up. You launched into the lines again, words shaky at first, but steadier when her gaze softened just enough to ground you.

Halfway through, you slipped. Just one word wrong, but it was enough to trip the moment.

“Cut!”

You muttered a curse, dragging a hand over your face. But Jenna laughed not at you, but with you low and warm. She nudged your arm with her shoulder, whispering just loud enough for you to hear, “Don’t worry, I’ve done worse.”

It was such a small thing, but it uncoiled something in your chest. You laughed too, tension breaking for just a moment. And in that second, it felt like no one else existed, just the two of you, pressed close together on a set that suddenly felt too small.

Jack groaned loudly. “Oh my god, they’re flirting in real time. Someone stop them before this becomes a behind-the-scenes featurette.”

Liana smacked him in the chest with her script. “You’re insufferable.”

“Insufferable but not wrong!” Jasmin added, earning another round of laughter from the crew.

Finally, the director called it. “That’s a wrap on the scene.”

You exhaled like you’d been holding your breath the entire time. Jenna stepped back, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “You did well,” she said softly, just for you, that careful smile tugging at her lips.

“Thanks,” you managed too stiff, too careful, like the word itself might give you away.

Jack shot up, practically vibrating. “So, uh, when’s the wedding? Should I buy a suit now or later?”

“Jack–” you groaned.

Liana appeared behind him, tugging his collar to reel him in. “Ignore him. He thinks he’s a matchmaker.” Then, with a sly glance at you, she added, “But honestly? Melissa isn’t wrong.”

Melissa fell into step beside you as you left the set, nudging your shoulder. “You two have… chemistry.”

“Chemistry?” you echoed, brain stalling.

“Don’t play dumb,” she teased. “The way you keep stealing glances at her, and the way she looks at you? Obvious. You just have to notice it.”

Heat prickled at your neck. “Oh.”

That was all you could manage.

Later, while the crew reset lighting, you leaned against a prop railing, trying to steady yourself. Across the room, Jenna leaned casually against the wall, arms folded, eyes finding yours with that tiny, infuriating half-smile again. Soft, unreadable, like she knew exactly what effect she had on you.

Jack and Liana whispered to each other, laughing. Jasmin caught on immediately, fanning herself again. “Someone’s gonna have to cut this tension with a knife.”

And despite yourself, your chest softened. For a flicker of a moment, you almost forgot about Mason entirely.

Almost.

Summary~ The first week of filming feels like summer camp—Melissa’s check-ins, Jasmin’s pranks, Mason’s jokes, Jack and Liana’s easy laughter. Everyone pulls you in, everyone but Jenna, who stays just out of reach… until one quiet moment makes you start to wonder if she’s been watching you all along.

Pairings~ Jenna Ortega x female reader

Tags~ wlw

WC: 774

A/N: I'm so happy to see everyone liked chapter 1! hope you all enjoy this chapter<3 Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

The first week of filming felt less like work and more like summer camp. Every day had its rhythm: Melissa dragging you out of your apartment with promises of overpriced lattes before early call times, Mason cracking jokes so relentlessly you wondered if he ever actually took a breath, and Jasmin plotting new ways to make you break character mid-scene.

Jack was the little brother of the group endlessly excitable, bouncing from one castmate to the next like a golden retriever with too much energy. One morning, you walked into hair and makeup to find him trying (and failing) to balance a donut on his forehead while Liana narrated like it was a nature documentary. “Observe the wild Jack in his natural habitat,” she intoned, grinning as the donut slid to the floor.

They both turned to you like you were the judge of some ridiculous contest. “Be honest,” Jack said, gesturing proudly at himself. “Ten out of ten, right?”

“Two,” you deadpanned, and Liana nearly spit out her coffee laughing.

The chaos was constant, loud, and for once, you didn’t mind being swept up in it. You’d worked on sets before, but never one where the cast felt so… close. Like family, in the messy, complicated, ride-or-die way.

And Jenna?

Jenna hovered at the edges. Always polite, always present, but never fully stepping into the noise with the rest of you. She greeted you with a small smile every morning, nodded along in conversations, but there was a deliberateness in her distance, like she was watching instead of participating. Watching you.

You didn’t let yourself think too hard about it.

Until one night.

It was close to midnight, and the crew was scrambling to reset a scene for the third time. You were curled on the fake steps of a New York brownstone, script balanced on your knees, exhaustion pressing heavy behind your eyes. The hoodie you wore still smelled faintly of the coffee Melissa had shoved into your hand earlier, and the world blurred at the edges, softened by fatigue.

“You don’t chew your pen caps.”

You looked up. Jenna stood just a few feet away, half-hidden in shadow. The low light caught the curve of her jaw, the soft fall of her hair, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

“…What?”

“Your pens,” she clarified, stepping closer. “You don’t chew them. Everyone else does. Mason’s is practically in pieces already. You just… tap yours. Three times before you write anything down.”

Your throat went dry. “You’ve been watching me?”

She shrugged, lips twitching like she almost wanted to smile. “I notice things. Occupational hazard.”

You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but before you could, Melissa called her name across the set. Jenna slipped back into the light, back to the others, like nothing had happened at all.

But the weight of her words lingered.

The next day, you were hyper-aware of her in a way you hadn’t been before. Jack was telling some ridiculous story about getting locked in his apartment stairwell, Liana was dramatically reenacting the event, and Mason was, as always, holding court with a nonstop barrage of punchlines. Yet all you could hear was the faint click of Jenna’s pen, the brush of her footsteps across the floor.

Lunch brought no relief. Melissa ducked out to grab coffee for everyone, leaving you alone with Jenna at a table tucked in the corner. The silence stretched not awkward, exactly, but charged.

“You’ll burn yourself out if you keep doing all-nighters,” she said casually, picking at the crust of her sandwich. “You’re not invincible, you know.”

You blinked at her, caught off-guard. “Uh… thanks?”

Her lips curved into that almost-smile again, the kind that made you feel like you’d missed the punchline to a joke. “You’re too predictable sometimes,” she added softly, eyes flicking up to meet yours.

Your heart stumbled over itself. “What does that even mean?”

Jenna shook her head, pushing her tray away and standing. “Nothing. Just… watch your pens.”

By the end of the week, the patterns had set in. Melissa was your anchor, always pulling you into the group’s orbit. Jasmin kept you on your toes with pranks that left the crew in stitches. Mason was a whirlwind of charm, Liana and Jack the constant source of chaos.

And Jenna?

Jenna was there, always there. Close enough to feel her presence, far enough that you could never quite reach.

That night, staring at your apartment ceiling, her words echoed in your head. I notice things.

It shouldn’t have meant anything. It shouldn’t have mattered.

summary: You’ve always felt like an outsider in Hollywood, unsure if you belong even with awards under your belt. Joining the cast of Scream VI was supposed to be another job—but the chaotic, teasing, warm energy of the cast makes you feel both at home and painfully aware of your own insecurities.

tags: Mentions of Alcohol, Curse words, Enemies to lovers thing, slow burn, slight angst if you squint, idk what I’m doing, I’m new to this pls don’t hate me

Edit: hello! I'm seeing lots of love for this, and I decided to make it just a tad longer for your enjoyment<3

Chapters

Chapter 1 - Outsider

Chapter 2 - Cracks in the quiet

Chapter 3 - Lines Between Us

Chapter 4 - Between the Takes

Chapter 5 - Off-Script

Chapter 6 - Tensions Rising

Chapter 7 - Breaking Point

Chapter 8 - Fractures

Chapter 9 - Quiet Confessions

Summary~ You’ve never truly felt like you belonged in Hollywood not with the awards, not with the scripts, not even on your best days. But joining the Scream VI cast feels different. Melissa, Jasmin, and Mason welcome you with open arms, pulling you right into their chaos, while Jenna lingers on the edges, quiet and unreadable, her gaze leaving you more unsettled than any role ever could.

Pairings~ Jenna Ortega x female reader

Tags~ wlw

WC: 537

A/N: I hope you all enjoy this story<3 Masterlist - Next Chapter

The fluorescent lights above the conference table buzzed faintly, casting everyone in a too-clean, almost sterile glow. Pages rustled, pens tapped, voices bounced off the high walls with an ease you envied. They already felt like a family laughing at inside jokes, shoulders brushing, teasing that came too easily to be rehearsed.

You stood just inside the doorway, clutching your marked-up script like it might anchor you.

Melissa Barrera was the first to notice you. She stood with the kind of ease that made her feel like gravity itself and crossed the room with arms already open.

“Finally!” she beamed, pulling you into a hug that knocked the air from your lungs in the best way. “I was starting to think you were a myth.”

You laughed, breathless. “Pretty sure I’m more ghost than myth.”

Before Melissa could respond, a chair scraped violently. Jasmin Savoy Brown practically launched herself across the table, hand extended, eyes wild with mischief.

“Oh my god, it’s true!” she gasped. “When Jenna told me you got cast, I thought she was just flexing. But nope look at you. Academy-Award-girl in a slasher sequel.”

Your laugh was a nervous hiccup. “Glad to keep things unpredictable?”

You shook her hand quickly, only for Mason Gooding to lean back dramatically and wave at you like you were already an old friend. “Sit with us. Don’t make me look bad by hovering all nervous Jasmin already called dibs on roasting you first.”

“First?” you echoed.

He grinned. “We’re a rotation. You’ll get used to it.”

The laughter that followed was infectious. You smiled, slipping into the empty seat Melissa had saved for you between her and Mason. Your fingers still clutched your script like a lifeline.

That’s when you saw her.

Jenna was sitting across the table, shoulders tucked in, one leg pulled up under her chair. She hadn’t laughed like the others just the ghost of a smile touching the corner of her mouth. Her fingers toyed absently with the edge of her script, nails painted black.

“Hey,” she said softly, eyes meeting yours for the briefest second. Polite. Perfectly neutral. Then she looked back down.

You nodded, swallowing the tangle in your throat. “Hi.”

The read-through began, and the room came alive Melissa grounding every line with natural gravitas, Jasmin tossing in snark even when she wasn’t on the page, Mason hamming it up with comic timing that cracked the room open. The chemistry buzzed like static around you, close but just out of reach.

And Jenna...

Her delivery was quiet but razor-sharp, every word clipped and clean, with a depth that wrapped around the room and pulled it taut. When she read, everyone stilled listened. You listened. Maybe too closely.

You stole glances when you weren’t meant to. The way her lashes flicked downward, how her mouth twitched at a line she found amusing. But outside of her lines, she barely spoke.

She didn’t ignore you she acknowledged you just enough to make you question whether you’d imagined the distance.

Maybe she was just shy. Maybe she just didn’t care.