Jenna Ortega Imagines

Maroon

Request: "I have an idea, maybe Y/N is an English teacher and goes to their brake and they have a meltdown and Jenna has to pick them up"

I have done a few types of meltdowns before, since different people have them differently. This one is a little violent, just a warning. Also mild SH warning, no blade, no fire.

You looked at the rowdy classroom around you in panic. No one was listening, no matter how hard you tried, no one batted an eye, they screamed, laughed, threw things, the whole class becoming a giant mess. Two more minutes.

Giving up, you stood at the front until the loud bell erupted through the halls, sending everyone out in a screaming mess. You took a deep breath, you would wait out the crowd before going for your lunch, that way no one would be in the way.

The sounds only got louder, and for some reason kids started to pile back into the class to eat, laughing even louder, some kids making out in the corner. Your vision started to swim, the feeling of your hands shaking making everything feel like too much. You wanted to yell, punch someone, maybe even kill someone, maybe yourself, you were getting dangerous.

Before you could think, your legs were rushing you out of the class, why were you not just normal. What if it wasn't autism, maybe you were just a freaking phyco. You found yourself rushing into the office, getting your shirt caught in the door, making tears start to gush down your face, why were you hyperventilating, what was wrong, were students looking?

"Miss L/N?" The woman at the front desk looked at you confused. "Miss L/N, are you okay?"

"I-" you tried to take a deep, long breath. "Emergency contact."

"What?"

"Call her," more tears spilled from your eyes. It was too loud, you wanted to hurt someone, punch something, you felt your own fist come into contact with the opposite hand, sending pain down both arms.

"Okay! Can you take a breath for me? We are calling."

How must it look to see your teacher in the office having a freaking meltdown. Humiliating. Die. Die. Kill. Die. The same words repeated over and over in your head, your knuckles banning together with every panicked punch. Would she even be able to come? She had a job, actually worked it unlike some usless-

"She's on her way, would you like me to contact one of our-"

"No!" You wanted to say something else but a feeling of dread blocked your words. How long until she was here? You wanted to ask that, but instead you could only grunt irritatedly. Mute idiot.

"Want us to get a sub for your next class?" You just nodded, feeling like your mouth was sealed shut. It had been five minutes. How long would she take?

After another ten minutes, you felt as if bruises were going to cover your entire body. The office had moved you into one of the back rooms, one of the student counsellors trying to pry your hands from your legs where they dug moons as your nails penetrated the skin. He was saying something about the negative affects of self harm, but you could hardly hear him, all you wanted was for him to leave you alone, you wished you could talk, yell. Hurt him.

The door opened, a loud slamming sound filling the small room. "Would you like your contact to enter the school, or meet her outside." Outside, that's what you wanted, you nodded. "Inside?"

"I think inside would be best."

Dumbass. Two dumbasses. You lunged suddenly, attempting to grab the scissors, only to be grabbed by the waist and held back as the woman left. Your fingers scraped over your face, leaving red tails as you sobbed. The man wasn't trying to help anymore, sitting there helpless as you clawed off your own skin.

The door opened again, this time a familiar smell filling the area. Jenna. Finally you opened your likely puffy eyes, breaths still rattling your entire body, nails deep into skin. You sat still for a moment as she entered fully, closing the door behind her, than kneeling in front of you.

"Hey hun," she didn't look you in the eyes, instead checking you over for any cuts or bruises.

"Mm," you let your hands drop from your skin, rocking slightly.

"Do you want your cards? I brought them, their in my bag."

You nodded, trying to take more steadying breaths, Jenna was here now. You were safe. The fluffy haired boys were not doing anything, them and their stupid hockey tuques or baseball caps.

"Okay, sounds good," she reached into her bag, pulling out the little stack of laminated cards you knew so well. "Can you show me what's wrong first?"

You flipped through them, finding the stressed one and showing it to her, followed by the home card.

"You want to go home?"

'Yes, home,' you signed the words, some of the only you both knew in ASL, as she was starting to learn it for you in situations when this happened.

"Can you tell me why?"

Damn it. You flipped through the cards again, finding the overwhelmed one. You shook it aggressively.

"Why?"

'Too loud,' you sighed, imitating the pressing of sounds down on your ears.

"Got it," Jenna stood up again, holding out her hand for you to take, which you grabbed happily, pulling yourself as close to her as physically possible while walking.

Jenna signed you out, taking you to the car just as the bell for lunch being over rung. A few people whispered a few things, mostly about Scream and Wednesday as you passed, but no one bugged you two.

The car ride felt painfully long, though it was probably only a few minutes before the truck pulled up to your house.

"Want to go in your sensory swing with me?" You nodded for what seemed like the millionth time, unlocking the door and rushing upstairs, hopping into the stretchy fabric swing as you waited for Jenna, who actually took the time to remove her coat and shoes.

Once you had both settled, she started to run her hands through your hair, eventually moving on to signing the alphabet slowly, then placing a pillow on her chests so you could hit it without hurting her, though you did bonk heads a few times, an unhealthy habit of yours when it came to recovering from a major meltdown.

"Do you think you can talk to me now, baby?"

"Yeah," you whispered softly, tucking your head into her neck.

"I'm glad you called me, you can always do that, okay?"

"Okay."

"I love you."

"I love you too," you whispered, feeling her lips on the top of your head. How had you lucked out so much.