Imagines with Jenna Ortega

The Marriage 6

Sunlight spilled gently through the curtains, warm and golden, brushing across the quiet of the bedroom. The sheets were tangled, the air heavy with the warmth of what had happened the night before.

Jenna stirred first. Her body ached faintly—the sweet kind of ache that reminded her of closeness, of love that had been unspoken for far too long. She blinked against the light and turned slowly, her breath catching.

Y/n was already awake. She lay on her side, one arm tucked under her head, her gaze fixed on Jenna. There was no ice in her eyes this morning—no sharpness. Only softness. Raw, unguarded. Something Jenna wasn't sure she deserved.

Neither spoke at first. Only the hum of morning wrapped around them—the birds outside, the faint rustle of leaves through the open window, the fragile stillness between two people who had been at war with themselves and each other for years.

Finally, Jenna broke the silence. Her voice was husky, hesitant. "You're still here."

Y/n's lips curved, just barely. "Where else would I be?"

The answer cut through Jenna, simple but heavy. She gripped the blanket tighter, nerves buzzing under Y/n's gaze. "Last night... it shouldn't have happened."

Y/n's jaw tightened, but she didn't retreat. Instead, she reached forward, brushing a strand of hair gently from Jenna's face. Her touch was soft, but her voice was steady. "Then tell me it meant nothing."

The challenge hung in the air like a knife. Jenna froze, her throat tight. She opened her mouth, but no words came. She couldn't lie—not with the memory of Y/n's touch still burning her skin, not with her heart racing just from being seen this way.

Her silence was enough.

Relief flickered in Y/n's eyes. She exhaled slowly and slipped her hand over Jenna's, warm and grounding. "Then stop fighting me."

Something inside Jenna cracked. Her eyes burned as she whispered, "I want you..."

Y/n's hand stilled, searching her face as if she couldn't quite trust it. "Jenna—"

"No." Jenna cut her off, clutching her hand tight, desperate. Tears spilled freely, her voice raw. "I tried to hate you, tried to convince myself this marriage was a prison—but I can't. Not anymore. I want you, Y/n. I want us."

Y/n froze. Those were the words she had dreamed of, the words she had bled for in silence. But hearing them now made her chest ache with a different kind of pain—fear that they weren't real, that Jenna would take them back.

"Say it again," she whispered, almost pleading.

Jenna sat up, pulling the blanket around herself, her eyes never leaving Y/n's. Her voice was steady this time, trembling but true. "I want you. Not the money. Not the show. Just you."

Y/n's breath hitched. Slowly, carefully, she reached up, cupping Jenna's cheek. Jenna leaned into her palm without hesitation, tears wetting her skin.

And when Y/n kissed her, it was tender—no anger, no desperation. Just years of longing and love finally unbound.

Between soft, shaky kisses, Jenna whispered like a vow, "Don't leave me. Please... don't ever leave me."

Y/n rested her forehead against hers, steadying her. "I want you too, Jenna. You've known that. And now that you finally feel the same... yes. I'll stay. With you. With our son."

A smile tugged at her lips—small, hesitant, but real. And it undid Jenna completely.

For the first time in years, the knot of fear and resentment inside her chest loosened. She let herself breathe, let herself rest in Y/n's presence. The warmth of Y/n's smile reached places she thought had turned to stone.