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waynes-multiverse · 1 year

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Plastic Hearts – Part 19

Pairing: Director!Dean Winchester x Actress!Reader

Series Summary: Los Angeles, 1985. Y/N’s a young actress without any success, hopping from one failed audition to the next until one desperate mistake brings her to her breaking point. Dean Winchester, on the other hand, is a grade A asshole and washed-up director at the end of his career, known for his godawful slasher movies in the 70s and his love for blow, booze, and women. Lost in the toxic Hollywood life, their paths cross when one hopeless little wrestling show changes their trajectory.

Chapter Warnings: +18, language, crack, angst, sexism/feminism, light smut (masturbation m, pretend f/f, Cassie x reader), Dean’s parenting skills are... improving?

Word Count: 7.4k

A/N: As I mentioned, chapters in this batch are a bit longer, but there’s only 4 parts, so you’re getting 5 in 4, I guess 😅 This is actually one of my favorite parts in this batch! As much as there’s angst, there are many hilarious moments in this one 🤣 And yes, Dean’s still a major dick, but I’m really proud of Y/N in this part. Our girl truly is a warrior and gets back on her feet as quickly as she gets knocked down 🖤

<< 18 || Spotify Playlist || Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

19. Hit Me With Your Best Shot

Y/N chews on her bottom lip as she grimly observes the director’s office from her periphery, her back leaning against a concrete column in the gym. It’s the taping of the second episode, Alex and Meg currently delivering a harrowing match in the ring, but Y/N isn’t even dressed in her costume, just her plain old hoodie and mom jeans. “Why,” you may ask?

Oh, it’s because the asshole didn’t give her a match this week and cut her out of the lineup. Dick…

It’s been six days, and the director is still angry and hasn’t forgiven her. Instead, he’s giving her the silent treatment, ignores her during morning meetings, and barely ever graces her with a glance. No matter what she tries, he constantly rejects her efforts to make amends. Losing their friendship breaks her heart into a thousand pieces. She never thought he’d do this to her, and sometimes she’s not sure she can fix it, considering how upset Dean seems to be. Nevertheless, Y/N won’t give up. She’ll keep groveling until they’re back to being Hitchcock and Alma.

But as if Dean not being in her corner anymore wasn’t already bad enough, to make matters worse, Y/N also has to endure Jo gloating over her new producer title. Admittedly, it doesn’t sit well with the young actress. No one can convince her the blonde actually deserves this promotion. She only got it because Sam’s a damn good lawyer. Jo hasn’t even come up with a single match idea as of yet. Y/N planned their last match all by herself – start to finish. All Jo had to offer was a demand to get the last fucking line.

Now, Jo gets everything again, while Y/N gets nothing. Same old, same old…

“Hey, Y/N!”

The young actress turns with a smile to Claire, who has just strolled into the gym with her school backpack on her shoulders. The fight with Dean wouldn’t bother her as much if he hadn’t taken away her visitation rights as well. While he certainly hasn’t said it out loud, there aren’t any more dinner invitations coming her way, either. It’s like Dean ripped away the steady ground beneath her wobbly feet. He took it all away – the job she loves, the family life she’s found, and the support of a true friend.

“Hey, you’re here to see your dad?”

Claire nods with an annoyed eye roll, which is clearly aimed at her father. “Yeah, is he in his office?”

“Uh, yeah. You mind if I tag along and use you as an alibi?” Y/N asks, bashfully twitching her shoulders.

Claire frowns at that and shoots her a sympathetic look. “Dean’s still not talking to you, huh?”

“Nope.” Y/N exhales a defeated sigh.

“Yeah, he was still pretty mad last time I asked him about it,” the teen says and then grins mischievously. “C’mon, let’s annoy him together. I’ll be your shield.”

The two girls then walk up the steps to the director’s office, Y/N carefully announcing their arrival with a few raps on the door before she smiles around the corner. “Hey, uh, Dean? Claire’s here to see you.”

At that, the director finally peels his green eyes away from the many monitors on his workstation by the window and glimpses briefly at the two intruders before focusing back on his task. “What d’you want? I’m working. This is a live taping.”

“I can’t find my house key,” Claire informs him.

“Over there.” Dean thumbs carelessly behind his shoulder to his desk before yelling into his microphone again, “Kevin, can you please find me an audience member who still looks alive? Why the fuck is that match not over yet? What’s going on down there?”

“Are you ever coming home for dinner?” Claire checks as soon as she has retrieved her key. She sourly narrows her eyes at her father and crosses her arms over her chest. “You’re always working. There’s no food in the fridge.”

Dear God, he didn’t even go grocery shopping? But while it drives Y/N insane to watch his parenting skills in action – or lack thereof – the actress swore she wouldn’t get involved unless he specifically asked her to.

“Uh, take fifty outta my wallet,” he tells his daughter without gifting her a single glance, deepening both women’s scowls.

“That’s a lot,” Claire replies with a scoff and starts rummaging through his leather jacket on the chair, purposely noting in sing-song, “Guess I’ll use the rest to buy drugs…”

“Uh-huh…” Dean rolls his eyes disinterestedly, still stubbornly fixating on his screens.

Y/N gapes at the director’s reaction and arches an eyebrow. This is how he reacts to his daughter’s clear cry for help? Jesus Christ. She has to say something, right? She should get involved and talk to him about this. Claire needs structure and a good home, not an absent, ignorant father who’s also a giant dick.

“If you’re not home, can Y/N come and make dinner again? I’m tired of pizza,” the teen whines, causing Y/N’s heart to swell with hope that he’ll finally invite her back into his life.

“She’s not your maid, Claire. I’m sure Y/N’s got better things to do,” the director replies coldly.

“Actually, I’m free toni–”

“No, you’re not,” Dean swiftly cuts off the actress.

“Why can’t she come over?” Claire snaps, her brow furrowing in anger.

“‘Cause I said so,” Dean dismisses her complaints.

“Ugh, you fucking suck, old man!” The teen groans loudly in annoyance and then storms out of the office, leaving the actress alone with the director.

“So, uhm…”

Dean then finally spins around in his chair and faces Y/N with a glare, barking, “What the fuck don’t you women understand about a live taping, huh? I’m busy!”

“I just-… Since I’m not wrestling, I wanted to see if you maybe needed anything, boss?” Y/N explains meekly and bats her eyelashes, hoping one of those days being cute will win him over.

However, the director only snorts and then draws a mocking sneer. “I’m gonna make this real easy for you, sweetheart – for the future, just assume that I don’t need anything and that I don’t wanna see you, alright?”

Y/N nods defeatedly and presses her lips into a thin line, ignoring the ache in her chest, “Mm-kay.”

Dean fucking hates this job.

The first week on set has already been exhausting, the girls are annoying him constantly, and his fight with Y/N doesn’t help with improving his mood, either. He misses her, misses having dinners with her, misses covering her with a blanket when she’s fallen asleep on his couch, and misses their morning chats over coffee. He misses everything about her, and it’s only been seven days.

Moreover, Y/N doesn’t make it easy for him to stay mad at her. She’s trying so goddamn hard to get back into his good graces, but Dean still has a hard time even looking at her. Sometimes he still catches her talking to Benny, laughing at one of his jokes or simply smiling at the guy. She’s not doing anything wrong, and still, it hurts so fucking much that he can barely be around her anymore, which makes working together almost an unbearable impossibility.

“Last night’s matches sucked,” Dean announces loudly at the next morning meeting, the women all neatly gathered on the bleachers.

“Boring!” Cas chimes his agreement and gives a thumbs-down, causing the director’s eyes to roll back and a few women to angrily narrow their eyes at the producer.

“The matches are just too long, and there’s too many of you,” Dean explains. “So, we’ve come up with a new concept. There will only be three matches from now on. One match that follows the main storyline and two others, which will be chosen through an audition. Each week, I’ll put two of you together, you’re gonna wow us with a great match, and the best two will be picked.”

“I initially suggested a cash bonus as an incentive, but then I ran the numbers and realized we couldn’t afford it,” Cas shares with a chuckle, the director fixing him with a death stare. “So, Dean said, ‘You know what else is a great motivator, Cas? Fear!’”

The director frowns, shaking his head vividly. “What? No! I said competition is a great motivator.”

“Same difference.” Cas shrugs his shoulders.

“I like competition,” Meg notes from the bleachers. “Thins out the herd, encourages innovation…”

Jo then raises her hand before she folds her arms over her leotard with a sour look. “Uhm… When was this decided? Because I think if there’s a producer meeting, all the producers should be invited.”

“Oh, don’t get your panties twisted,” Dean huffs and rolls his eyes. “It wasn’t an official meeting, okay? We just had drinks after work.”

“Yeah.” Cas nods in agreement. “Which we invited you to, but someone had to go home to their baby,” the producer chuckles mockingly, Dean joining in.

Jo lets out a frustrated sigh and then suggests, “Okay, then how about dinner tonight at my place? I can cook, and we can go over the plan for this season?”

“Oh, uh, I can’t tonight,” Dean lies, clearing his throat. “I have a kid, you know? Gotta be home for dinner.”

Jo pops an eyebrow, her look darkening. “You mean the seventeen-year-old you’re letting run wild around Los Angeles? Yeah, that clearly seems to be a priority for you.” The blonde rolls her eyes and then orders, “Dinner tonight. Both of you. You can carpool or whatever.”

“Carpool? Fun. Never done that before,” the millionaire producer smiles through his teeth while Dean’s trying to hold in his laugh. Cas then leans closer to him and whispers into his ear, “We’re not actually going, right? ‘Cause you said, we’re only giving her the producer title to keep the star of the show happy. She’s not really gonna have a say, is she?”

“Fuck no,” Dean assures him with a quiet chuckle.

“Good, ‘cause she didn’t even put money into this. I did, you know?” Cas defends his own worthless job title.

“I can hear you two fucking assholes,” Jo snaps and sends them both a scathing glare.

Dean clears his throat and decides to simply ignore the blonde’s complaints, focusing on his clipboard. “Anyways, uhm, these are the pairings I wanna see at next week’s audition: Ruby vs. Bela, Meg vs. Missouri, Alex vs. Donna, Charlie vs. Jo, which is the fixed match, and Billie is still ducking.” He then notices Y/N’s hand raise and sighs. He knew she would notice. “Yes, Y/N?”

“What about me? You didn’t mention my name,” she whines, her voice laced with desperation and a bit of reproachfulness, judging by the small scowl on her face.

Dean knows he can’t keep her out of the show forever, but he has to edit it, you know? Which means looking at a lot of footage of Y/N when she’s in her hot little leotard. On top of it, he would have to interact with her a lot more as well and couldn’t just avoid it as easily. However, he’s not punishing her; he’s just trying not to goddamn punish himself.

“Uh, yeah… you fight the new girl,” he mutters quickly, averting his eyes to the clipboard.

“Cassie?” Y/N raises her eyebrow in question. “But she’s new, Dean. She doesn’t know any moves yet.”

“She had moves last time I saw her.” Dean shrugs innocently and can’t help the impudent smirk that forms on his lips upon Y/N’s sinister look. Is she actually jealous? He’s sure she’s heard the lap dance story by now. If Dean has learned one thing, it’s that women gossip about goddamn everything.

“Yeah, uh, I have those kinds of moves, boss, but with wrestling, I’m like a Level 1,” Cassie sides with Y/N and shoots him an insecure glance. Dean told her that Y/N was the best one in the group, which seemingly intimidated her. And honestly, she should be scared of the uber-nerd. Y/N will ride the former stripper hard. No pun intended.

“Oh, I’m sure between your ‘can do anything’ and her ‘will do anything’ spirit, the two of you are gonna figure it out.” The director grins slyly at the two girls, knowing they’ll come up with nothing because Cassie can’t do shit yet, which means he can keep Y/N out of the show easily for another week.

Y/N is fuming.

That man will cost her last nerve, she swears to God. She’s not stupid, however, and knows exactly what the asshole is doing by pairing her up with the stripper-turned-rookie-wrestler. He’s still punishing her and wants to keep her out of the show, but Dean Winchester will not put her in the fucking corner.

Dean has no idea what he’s in for. Has he learned nothing? She’s the girl that will do anything – as he so kindly pointed out during the last morning meeting. But the director truly has no clue what he signed up for when he challenged her. She’ll show him what he’s missing, alright. She’s a goddamn fighter, fully ready to put some war paint on her rosy cheeks and wield a spear.

Fire away, asshole!

In order to get to know each other better and come up with a fire-as-hell game plan, Cassie and Y/N decide to go out for lunch together at the diner across the motel. It’s a nice and sunny day, so the girls have gone for a table outside, enjoying some warm California sunshine on their skin as they chat.

“So, how long would it take me to learn that move where I bend backwards and smash you on the mat?” Cassie asks and takes a sip of her soda.

“A suplex? Ooof, a long time. Took me three weeks to get that one right,” Y/N informs her and hears Cassie sigh. “But it doesn’t matter. We’re not gonna get into the show through wrestling alone. We need… something,” she muses and slurps her cold drink so hard she almost gets brain freeze.

“I could wear a string bikini? Boss seemed to like that the last time,” Cassie suggests with a chuckle. Y/N tries to ignore that last sentence as best as she can, albeit her heart stings quite a bit as drops of venomous jealousy trickle into her veins.

“No, uh, you don’t have to do that,” Y/N says, giggling her uncomfortableness away. “I wouldn’t make you do that, Cassie. You just left that life behind you.”

“Oh, honey, your job is G-rated girl-on-girl in a leotard. You’re not that far from that life,” Cassie points out, casually sipping on her soda through a straw.

Why do people keep insinuating her job is basically equal to a stripper’s? Y/N’s a professional actress, okay? She’s not a slut, a porn girl or–

“I’m not a stripper.” Y/N frowns and takes a bitter sip of her shake.

“Oh, neither am I,” Cassie snorts jokingly. “Only once a week when my ex bartends. I like to torture her by taking my clothes off. God, I miss that... I haven’t seen any bush since I joined your straight-as-fuck women’s wrestling show,” she huffs frustratedly and pops a fry into her mouth.

“Oh, you like girls?” Y/N’s heart suddenly inflates twice its size as relief washes the anxiety out of her bloodstream. That means she didn’t hook up with Dean, right? There was no touching, no kissing, and definitely no body parts slipping into other body parts.

“I love girls.” The former stripper grins cheekily and then lets her eyes slowly roam Y/N’s frame.

Wait, is she being checked out?

Y/N feels her cheeks heat up. “Cool.” She smiles and clears her throat, shaking off the fluster. “So, you and Dean never… Does he know?”

“Does he need to know about our personal life?” Cassie retorts rhetorically and then smirks, “Does he know about you and that camera guy?”

“What?! Who, Benny?” Y/N’s brow wildly furrows, quickly shaking her head. “There’s nothing going on there. I’m not fucking the camera guy,” she squeaks a little too defensively.

“Wait, what?” Cassie gapes at her. “That guy has been all over you. He barely could take his eyes off of you this whole week, Y/N. You need to hit that… Or are you into the boss? Because Dean talked a lot about you when he came to the club. Made me curious about you. I can see why he likes you. You’re the hot nerd. It’s my type, too.”

“Wha-… No! No, I don’t… need to hit anything, okay? I like to be professional. I take my job seriously, you know? I don’t think it’s a good idea to mix work and… play,” Y/N splutters like an idiot, tugging on the sleeves of her sweatshirt and almost strangling a poor fry between her fingertips.

Cassie only sends her a raised look. “Girl, no offense, but don’t be so uptight,” she tells the actress and begins to massage the knots out of Y/N’s tense shoulders while a lazy smile curves the stripper’s lush lips. “Relax… You need to loosen up a little.”

Y/N takes a deep breath and swallows the lump of dysfunctional inhibitions down. Maybe she needs to be more daring. That’s what Dean wants, after all – for her not to give a shit. So, she decides she fucking won’t any longer.

“I have an idea that gets us both what we want,” Y/N smirks widely, piquing Cassie’s interest. “How about I teach you some wrestling moves, and you teach me some of your stripper moves, and we’ll give them a very racy show? What d’you think about a little forbidden love affair between Red Sparrow and Doll Slayer?”

Cassie matches her smirk. “Now we’re talking, baby girl.”

Dean’s exhausted after watching the first two pairs audition. It’s late, Claire has been giving him the cold shoulder all week because she’s upset over Y/N, and his co-jurors, Cas and Jo, are driving him up against a wall with their babbling and giggling after the blonde managed to win the idiotic producer over with a pack of Skittles.

Candy that doesn’t cost more than two quarters – that’s apparently what it takes to bribe a millionaire. Ridiculous!

Dean’s attention, however, awakens a smidge when the third match of the day, Ruby vs. Bela, begins, and he sees the Brit carrying a mannequin into the ring, carefully leaning it against the ropes.

“Oh, you guys are working with a prop? Cool,” Dean notes interestedly.

But Bela shakes her head. “Mick isn’t a prop. He’s my new boyfriend.”

“Hm?” Dean’s eyebrows shoot up and reach his hairline. He knows Bela is a little crazy, which didn’t bother him in the bedroom, but this seems a bit too far gone for his taste. Thank God she didn’t have that thing when they were still dating.

“Yeah, I made him out of spare parts after a real man broke my heart,” the Brit explains.

Okay, that feels a little… personal. It’s not just him who sees this, right?

Dean shares a befuddled look with Cas, who only beams a teasing grin at him. Great. The director will hear about that one for a while. Bela might be his new Tampa waitress in terms of craziness.

“So, uh, I’m confused…” Dean scratches the nape of his neck, his brow knitting even more. “You’re not gonna engage with the, uh, mannequin at all?”

“Engaged?” Bela’s blue eyes widen in shock, Ruby snorting an amused laugh next to her. “Dean, we’ve only ever been on one date. It’s too soon. Don’t make him uncomfortable.”

See? Do you believe him now that she’s completely fucking nuts?

Dean gave up after that and just tried to enjoy the match quietly, his mind trying to distract itself from the fact that he’d have to watch a full scene with Y/N soon. He could literally hear the clock tick in his ears, counting away the seconds until he had to look at her again. It was killing him.

And then, the alarm of his imaginary clock goes off, the third match is over, and Y/N and Cassie strut into the ring. The young actress looks breathtaking, radiating, absolutely ravishing, and Dean swallows hard when their eyes briefly meet before she focuses on her opponent.

The two deliver a few beginner wrestling moves. Dean knows there’s been only so much his favorite nerd could’ve done. He’s actually impressed Y/N has managed to teach the new girl as much as she has in that short period of time. However, he’s positive his co-jurors will agree that it’s essentially boring and vote them out as well, and Dean’s happy he bought himself another Strindberg-free week.

But the air suddenly shifts when Y/N executes a move that flips both women onto their backs on the mat before Y/N rolls on top of Cassie and straddles her lap. She inches closer to the brunette’s face, her stare threatening and full of untamable fury before her brow starts to twitch, pink lips quivering. Y/N swallows lightly, the torment shimmering in her eyes.

“I don’t want to work for KGB if it means hurting you, dollink,” she says in her Russian accent and reaches out her hand to cradle and caress the stripper’s cheek. “I have missed you, long lost lover. I don’t want to fight tonight.”

What the fuck is going on here? Dean’s brow puckers intensely as he leans forward on the jury table. He should’ve figured fucking Strindberg had a goddamn ace up her sleeve.

“Then don’t,” Cassie tells her and smiles lovingly, her hands seductively smoothing up Y/N’s bare thighs until they grab hold of her hips, strong and steady. Dean’s starting to sweat, the heat rising south of his waistband as the first drops collect along his hairline. “Choose love, my little sparrow.”

For fuck’s sake!

Y/N mirrors Cassie’s look of love for a beat and then claims the brunette’s lips in a fervent kiss, Dean’s jaw dropping to the fucking smoldering core of the Earth. Their little make-out session starts out slow, tender before the girls’ breathing becomes more ragged, so loud it could be clearly picked up by his ears. And then, their hunger grows. Their tongues visibly dance and rub against each other, a heated mingle of pink snakes. Dean’s jeans are getting tighter, adjusting the material under the table and hoping no one registers the growing bulge.

Y/N then slides down the other girl’s body, stretches on her like a cat as she pushes her ass out and pins Cassie’s wrists above her head as the latter’s palms grope Y/N’s perky globes. Fuck, her juicy butt is one of his favorite parts, wishing he could trade places with yet another girl in the ring. And then, to top it all off, the stripper delivers a spank, causing Y/N to softly mewl.

Dear fucking God, Dean’s ears are bleeding his heart and dick out when he hears that sinful, torturous, and familiar noise. That’s how she has moaned for him, too, and Dean can’t help but wonder if the fucking minx does it on purpose to rile him up. Either way, he’s fucking rock-hard at this point and also pretty pissed Y/N has decided to persecute him like this.

“I bet your kitty taste better than Russian vodka on my tongue, dollink,” Y/N purrs into the brunette’s ear and grinds her crotch against Cassie’s, causing the latter to whimper.

“Oh, I’ll show you why they call me Doll Slayer, baby girl.”

This is one of the reasons why the director keeps confusing porn with reality. It’s really not his fault. Look at this! Tell him how this isn’t straight-up porn. At this point, the two girls are basically dry-humping. This is porn with clothes on, and no one can convince him otherwise.

The two women finish their routine after a few more daring moves that half resemble wrestling, and the rest was clearly stripping-adjacent – he identified those ones pretty quickly. However, before the match finally could end for good, Dean still had to endure Y/N languidly kissing down Cassie’s neck, sensually playing with the brunette’s tits, and watching an explosive finale, including an earth-shatteringly orgasmic moan performed by the actress. Oscar-worthy, truly.

And while it was all acted, Dean was probably the only one that knew how close to the real thing those goddamn moans actually came.

God, Dean wants her so fucking badly, but he can’t cave and back down now. If she doesn’t love him the same way, then he has to keep his distance and not torture himself. He’s still reluctant to trust her after this whole Benny thing. Plus, it’s still ongoing, so how is he supposed to get over it if it hasn’t even resolved itself yet? In fact, the two seem even closer now, probably bonding over their shared hatred for the director. But fuck, Dean would love nothing more than to take her goddamn home right now.

The urge is so pressing that he even has to excuse himself to his office for some relief before his next meeting with Jo and Cas. His erection is almost painfully aching as he finally frees it from the tight denim and fists his swollen cock, a hiss making it past his lips as his thumb strokes over the angry red and leaking tip. It doesn’t even take him a full minute to fucking cum. A few harsh pumps and an array of vivid mental images to choose from that flood his brain, thanks to Y/N, and he spills his pent-up frustration into a tissue, a blissful sigh leaving his throat, but the bliss sadly doesn’t last long. It helps a tiny bit, but his hunger is still by far not sated. He needs the real goddamn thing, knowing all too well he can’t have it.

Dean then begrudgingly joins his two co-jurors by the small buffet table in the parking lot, Jo and Cas already discussing their preferences.

“What about Donna?” Cas suggests.

“Nah, she had nothing this time,” Dean throws in as he grabs himself a plastic cup of black and bitter coffee.

“What about, uh, Y/N’s match?” Jo proposes and awkwardly clears her throat as Dean’s head snaps to her, raising a surprised eyebrow.

Out of his two co-jurors, he for sure as hell never thought that blondie would be the one to vote for Strindberg. He knows they’ve gotten a little closer again, but he hasn’t expected Jo would actually hold Y/N’s back.

“No, it wasn’t even a wrestling match,” Dean counters, hiding his misplaced feelings behind his coffee cup and a paper-thin argument.

“Yes, exactly, Dean! It was fucking awesome,” Cas throws in and beams. “You’ve been complaining all week that the matches feel stale and that the audience keeps falling asleep. This is how we wake them up! It’s like those halftime games at football shows. What d’you think, Jo?”

“Uh, yeah, they were great.”

Dean frowns deeply. The idiot can’t even get his sports metaphors right. “It’s practically porn with clothes on.”

“Yes, duh! What’s wrong with you?” Cas shakes his head at the director in disbelief. “You never would’ve said no to this before, Dean. You were the one who always said wrestling is like porn. Well, this just takes it one tiny step further. C’mon, the story was good, the girls looked so hot… This is prime television in the making, Dean. Y/N’s a goddamn genius!”

While Dean’s anger has been simmering before, it finally reaches its boiling point. Is everyone aiming their knife at his back these days? Cas and Jo are both going to outvote him, which means he has to witness that goddamn match all over again and edit it for fucking hours… in detail.

“No, I’m not putting Y/N in.” The director stomps his metaphorical boot down with a sternly creased brow.

“Why? Because what? You’re not done punishing her?” Jo challenges him, her arms cockily folded over her tits as she arches a knowing eyebrow.

“You’re still doing that?” Cas shoots him an upset look and pouts. “But I like Y/N! She’s the best one we have, Dean.”

“C’mon, you know she’s good. Otherwise, you would’ve fired her instead of Kaia,” Jo argues. “And this is me, giving Y/N a compliment, which should really tell you how low you’ve gone.”

“Gotta do what’s best for the show, Dean,” Cas reminds him in sing-song.

Dean’s jaw tightens as he swallows down the fucking lump of anger and frustration in his throat. He knows he has run out of options and has to face the unbearably hot music now.

It’s been a long day when the director finally returns to his quaint little home in Burbank. It’s empty and dark, assuming Claire’s out with Jack and doing God knows what. He stopped asking a while ago for his own sake.

With a heavy and tired sigh, he pours himself a glass of his better whiskey and slumps down on the couch. The TV is only running for background noise, his head too exhausted to pay any attention to the mindless entertainment. Halfway through his second glass, the front door springs wide open and slams shut a second later. It’s shortly past nine o’clock on a school night when Claire rushes in. He should probably give the kid a curfew, right?

But then Dean notices something more pressing, his father instinct kicking in as his brow wrinkles, eyeing the teenager. “Hey, what happened to your head?”

There’s a nasty and gnashing head wound decorating his kid’s forehead, a sweaty t-shirt pressed against the cracked skin to soak up some of the blood. Claire only tightens her jaw in annoyance and rolls her eyes dismissively, storming past him towards her room.

That’s when Dean gets up from his comfy seating position with a huff and follows his teenage daughter. “Hey! I’m fucking talking to you! What the hell is going on?”

“Oh, now you suddenly care?! I got into a fight at Jack’s show,” the teenager grits. “I called you to pick me up, but surprise, surprise – you didn’t answer because you don’t give a shit!”

Granted, Dean knows he deserves that response. He hasn’t been around as much in recent weeks, too occupied with directing a show and, well, sulking. Claire also asks a lot of questions, questions about Y/N he doesn’t know how to answer, so he admittedly avoided her a little. He knows it’s not the mature, grown-up move. Maybe he’s a petty child, after all.

Dean exhales a loud sigh. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I thought it was my ex-wife. Next time just leave a message so I know what I’m getting into, alright?”

Claire emerges from her room with a duffel bag and a pile of bunched-up clothing items, dramatically stuffing them into the bag on the dining table in front of him.

“Oh, what? You’re leaving now?” He tries not to roll his eyes and let her know he sees right through her theatric ruse. She could’ve packed it quietly in her room, but instead, she chose to make a scene he would see. “Where are you gonna go, huh? Back to your mom?”

“No! I told you I’m not going back there. Lisa’s fucking crazy!”

Dean wants to say the craziness seems to run in the family but bites back the comment, knowing it would probably only make things worse. Honestly, he doesn’t want her to leave. He kinda got used to the kid. What do you want from him, hm? Admit that he likes her? Admit that he enjoys fatherhood?

“Okay, so where then?” Dean asks calmly. He knows teenagers are emotional messes full of angst, indecisions, and half-baked ideas. He just needs to let her play it through on her own.

On cue, the first tears start to prick Claire’s eyes and roll down her cheeks, her chest heaving with a heavy sob. God, he hates when they cry. Why do girls always have to do that? It’s so uncomfortable and, frankly, unfair. “I don’t know! Away from you!”

Dean wipes his palms on his denim-clad thighs and approaches her like a shy deer in the woods. “Okay, okay… just relax, alright? Calm down.” He watches as Claire takes a deep breath. He then moves to the small bathroom and grabs a first-aid kit.

“Sit down.” He ushers her to the couch and takes the bloody t-shirt from her hands, settling down next to her on the cushions. As Claire warily eyes him from her periphery, he dabs a cotton ball in a little bit of rubbing alcohol and warns her of the imminent burn before pressing it to her split skin. She hisses slightly before the alcohol starts to soothe her wound and works its magic. Once that’s done, he fishes out a bandaid and fixes it over her injury. “Good as new,” he says and smiles softly.

“Thanks,” she replies quietly, nibbling on her lip.

Dean then clears the awkward lump in his throat and fumbles with his hands in his lap. He might as well be seventeen, too. “Look, uhm, I’m sorry I wasn’t around as much, okay? If you haven’t noticed, I’m a bit fucked in the head. There’s been a lot going on.”

Claire bobs her head pensively. “I like Y/N. She’s good for you. If you miss her, why won’t you just invite her back?”

Dean chuckles softly, scratching the nape of his neck. “It’s not that easy, kid. Nothing in life really is. Unfortunately…”

“But you love her, right?”

He swallows thickly but nods his admission. “I do…” He finds her eyes. “But sometimes that’s not enough, you know? Sometimes loving someone just hurts, especially if they don’t feel the same way about you.”

“You don’t think Y/N loves you?” Claire looks at him, but he doesn’t have the guts to hold her gaze when he replies.

“No, I don’t, kid.”

A beat of silence passes between them.

“I understand. Sorry.” Claire nods and then places her hand atop his, squeezing it. “It’s gonna be alright, Dad.”

Dean knows it’s the first time she’s actually called him that. Apparently, he’s done something right for once, even though he doesn’t know what it was exactly that finally earned him that title. There’s a warm, fuzzy feeling spreading through his heart again, and he sends her a smile. “You, uh, wanna go play mini golf?”

“Sure.” Claire grins. “Can I have a glass of whiskey before we go?”

Dean snorts in amusement and pats her head. “Ha, no. But nice try, kid. You’re gonna go far someday.”

It’s fifteen minutes left on the clock before the taping of the next show starts when Y/N suddenly knocks on his office door once more. She’s in her full costume, hair, and make-up, a happy and yet reluctant smile adorning her face.

“Are you hiding from everybody again?” Y/N asks playfully and stalks inside but stays close to the door, still keeping a safe distance from him.

“Nope, just you,” Dean grumbles. Only half an hour ago, he caught the actress flirting her ass off with the camera guy yet again, laughing and smiling, while Dean was internally puking.

She giggles insecurely but doesn’t let his grumpiness deter her. “Are we back to joking again?”

With a scoff, Dean spins in his chair to face her fully, placing his folded hands in his lap, and shrugs coldly. “I’m not joking.”

Y/N nods resignedly but forces a coy smile back onto her ample lips. “Still, uhm, I wanted to thank you for choosing my match. I will not disappoint you,” she promises and then clears her throat. “Or, uhm, maybe I will, but it won’t be my intention, so…”

Dean exhales a loud sigh and narrows his green eyes at her. “I could still cut you out of the match, you know? Just roll Cassie’s side,” he threatens unmistakably and taunts, “I could even run ten minutes of a Christmas log, sweetheart. I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

“Why are you doing this?”

Her question startles him. Dean never thought she’d have the balls to ask, but there’s resentment, disappointment, and anger gleaming in her orbs that aim to crush his heart.

“Is it because of the video? Because I’m sorry, okay? I just wanted to help you and the girls,” she confesses, the tears pricking her eyes, her sweet voice laced with desperation. “I really am sorry, Dean. Why can’t you just forgive me? I won’t ever do it again, okay? Look, I’m sorry if I crossed a line. I didn’t wanna take your job or whatever. I just wanted to surprise you with something nice. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Dean catches her gaze for a second before averting his eyes to the monitors. He swallows hard, her words piercing through his heart like the sharpest daggers. But she still doesn’t get it, doesn’t see what upset him so much, so he turns back to his workstation and stares into the void, deciding to ignore her until she leaves on her own. They always do – he just has to push hard enough.

However, Y/N remains stubborn and crosses her arms over her chest, pensively chewing the insides of her cheeks. “Unless it’s not about the video at all,” she suddenly says then, causing his Adam’s apple to bob with guilt. “Unless it’s about something else… someone else.” When he still doesn’t reply and only stares obstinately into his screen, biting his tongue bloody, a dark scoff leaves her lips, her head nodding in acknowledgment. “It is, isn’t it? Funny, I thought you weren’t gonna be a petty child. Guess that was a lie, too. Like being on my side…”

Dean clenches his jaw harder, the metallic taste in his mouth mixing with the bitterness in his heart. But if he looked at her right now, he’d break down and pull her back into his arms. He can’t do that to himself and wait till he gets betrayed again. It always ends this way.

“Enjoy your personal space, Dean.”

Dean’s a petty, childish asshole.

Does he really think throwing the temper tantrum of the century will make her want him more? Because she’s sure, it’s doing the exact opposite. If anything, his little outburst of jealousy just proves her more right that mixing pleasure and work is an enormously bad idea. What if she sleeps with him, and then he suddenly changes his mind again? Blames her for something she didn’t even do? Would he fire her for good, then?

Y/N can’t risk her job like that. It’s all she has ever wanted and all she has left. She loves it too much to put it all on the line for a fuck with the boss.

After her glorious show with Cassie, the audience going feral and loving every second of it, Y/N watches the last match between Jo and Charlie from a dark corner of the gym. There’s even a little girl in the front row dressed up as Jo’s character, and it makes Y/N smile. It’s way cuter than her own fans, the four drunk Russians in the third row.

While the match is glorious and the crowd is going wild, the mood suddenly begins to shift once Jo has won. The blonde taunts her opponent, goes a little too far with her insults as she riles up the audience, which starts booing Charlie loudly. Y/N notices the tears that start to glaze the redhead’s eyes, but Jo doesn’t and keeps mocking her until Charlie storms sobbingly out of the ring.

Y/N’s not surprised it happened, though. The blonde has always been a bully, Y/N having been on the receiving end of her abusive commentary her whole life. Jo then freezes insecurely as the audience becomes mum, no cheers heard anymore, and clearly sides with the sweet redhead. And while Y/N certainly enjoys Jo falling on her unbearable ass for once, she knows the crowd can’t hate her. Joanna is the star and has to maintain her golden status of the good girl. As much as it pains Y/N, her frenemy has to be the hero in order for the show to succeed.

“Shit.” Y/N sees Jo scrambling to keep the audience on her side and failing miserably. The young actress knows she has to think of something to fix this mess. But what is she supposed to do to turn this around and make the blonde likable again?

What would a soap opera do?

Y/N’s eyes fall on the little girl in the front row, and it clicks, a light bulb switching on in her brain. She rushes to the girl and looks at the mother next to her. “Hey, uh, I’m with the show. Can I borrow your daughter for a second?”

The mother nods her permission, and Y/N swiftly grabs the kid and hauls her into her arms, running closer to the ring.

“Liberty Bell!”

At that, Jo looks at her, her brow temporarily knitted in confusion before she begins to catch on to Y/N’s plan. Luckily, the two have been to a million improv classes together and can read each other perfectly.

“I have your daughter!” Kidnapping a child is a classic villain’s move and a plot straight out of a soap. The audience will sympathize with Jo. It’s perfect. “No one move! I have Russian saber behind my back!” Y/N hides her empty fist behind her, pretending it actually holds a dangerous weapon. “If anyone try to follow me, little girl will eat sword!”

“Why are you doing this, Red Sparrow?” Cas asks her in his announcer role. He seems fully immersed in the story, seemingly loving the dramatic development. Y/N really appreciates Cas. The producer even told her he’s a fan of hers and asked her to sign an autograph last week. It was her first one ever, and it was so goddamn cool!

Y/N tightens her jaw with a dark look, glaring at her former friend. “We have unfinished business.” She then stares into Benny’s camera, knows she stares directly at Dean in his office, and adds through gritted teeth, “You cannot ignore Red Sparrow!”

It’s a real threat. Y/N is done with groveling. She’s done trying to repair her friendship with Jo, only to get burned again. She’s done trying to please Dean, only to get hurt again. She’s fucking done with all the bullshit.

“If you want to see sniveling runt alive again, you will have to fight me,” Y/N grits, securing herself a main storyline. Dean will never put her on the sidelines again. “Otherwise, only mother she will know is Mother Russia!” She cackles an evil laugh worthy of a sinister villain and pinches the girl slightly.

“Mommy!” the little girl in her arms desperately screams out and even reaches her hands out to Jo in the ring.

“Again,” Y/N whispers into the girl’s ear.

“Mommy! Help!”

After the girl’s last heartbreaking cry for rescue, Y/N hurries through the backstage door and ends the show, her heart pounding loudly in her chest as the adrenaline floods her veins. Y/N fought her way back in and did it all on her own.

Hit me with your best shot…

20. Don’t You Want Me

Don’t mind me over here, I’m just cheerleading for Y/N 😆 I think part of why these chapters turned out longer is because Dean and reader’s storylines have separated a bit, but God, do I love them feuding 😝

Ready for the last part of this batch tomorrow? It’s intense and you’ll hate where I ended it 😈

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