#director!dean x actress!reader

[waynes-multiverse]

Plastic Hearts – Part 1

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, GLOW AU, self-worth issues, implied smut (reader x unknown dude 🤷‍♀️), cheating, Sam and Dean are not related in this story (--> check the series masterlist for overall warnings!)

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: Truthfully, I wasn’t gonna share it because it was just a fun, silly project to get over some writer’s block (which I did!). Netflix never gave me an ending to this amazing show, so I wanted to write my own, y’know? But hey, it’s already written, so why not share it with the class, right? As my awesome cheerleader on this project @panicking-outside-the-disco said, the dilaogue screams Dean AU 🖤 (Thank you so much for your encouragement, bestie!) Fellow fans of the show, you’ll be happy to know I kept all the good stuff in there, from Steel Horse to pink, frosted donuts. Everyone else will make sense of those words soon enough. So, hopefully, you’ll enjoy this nostalgic love tribute, and let’s give ourselves a decent ending, shall we? 🤩

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

1. Holding Out For A Hero

Another failed audition.

Moving from Nebraska to Los Angeles at the sweet age of eighteen, Y/N has played the Hollywood game for quite some time. Now, at the ripe age of twenty-seven by La-La Land standards, she only has little to show for herself, though. She’s had a few background roles and starred in a handful of low-budget plays, but her big breakthrough, the role that changes everything, still remains a hopeless and seemingly unreachable daydream.

Worst of all, she is sick and tired of the simple and reduced roles Hollywood forces upon its actresses. She wants more than the shitty role of the secretary who tells a powerful man his wife is on the phone. Y/N wants a real part instead of playing second fiddle to yet another pompous dick.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

After her latest failure, she even became so desperate she hid in a bathroom stall for three hours before ambushing her casting director Josie while the poor woman was fucking peeing. But instead of the customary, unexplained rejection, Y/N wanted to hear reasons this time. She wanted to find out why she always gets pushed over for someone else, wanted to know if she could do something better, for crying out loud.

Usually, it’s the agent’s job to tell an actor all the reasons why they were wrong for the role, but she doesn’t even have an agent anymore because, as it bitterly turns out, everyone stops fucking caring about you if you haven’t worked in over two years. For once, though, she wanted some goddamn feedback.

The casting director’s response?

“Look Y/N, every director I work with says, ‘Get me someone I don’t know. Someone I haven’t seen. I want a girl who’s real.’ That’s when I bring you in, so they can see that they don’t actually want the thing they think they want. It’s 1985. Everyone wants Jane fucking Fonda. I’m sorry, honey… But listen, I have some experimental projects in the Valley, if you’re interested. Would you consider doing erotica?”

So, fucking porn. That’s where she’s at with her life.

Defeatedly, Y/N leaves the casting office in West Hollywood once more and gets swallowed by the city’s filth, lost between hellfire and demons. No matter what she does, she never feels like it’s enough. Each audition, you throw yourself against the wall and hope, this time, it’ll stick. It’s an endless game, a gamble of hope – hope isn’t an infinite resource, though, and hers is running out.

Y/N likes getting tortured. That’s the conclusion she’s come to. And because she seems to thrive on torment, she joins her best friend Joanna for a Jazzercise class – aka a room full of toned women in leotards, sweatbands, and leg warmers. The two friends have known each other since middle school and have done everything together since then, including their move to the big city. Joanna is a blonde bombshell who immediately got a role on a popular soap until she quit acting and had a baby a couple of months ago. Now, she’s a housewife and mother in Pasadena while her husband brings home the money.

Y/N loves Joanna, but admittedly, the blonde sometimes makes her feel small and insecure. She doesn’t have the big tits, the perfect curves, or the shiny hair. Jo has always been more successful than her in every aspect of their respective lives, the friendly competition leaving Y/N, more often than not, with a bad aftertaste in her mouth. She constantly tries to keep her envy in check, though, even when the blonde’s boobs exploded during their freshman year of high school. Simply put: Joanna is a sparkling diamond, while Y/N feels like a dirty lump of coal next to her.

The cheer captain versus the theater geek.

“You know, I’d actually do porn if it had a good story. Like, Shakespeare porn,” Y/N half-heartedly jokes as the women change in the locker room after their class.

Jo arches an eyebrow at her, the smile on her lips a bit condescending. “C’mon, Y/N, would you actually do porn, though? You hate being naked in front of people.”

“Things have changed since you disappeared,” Y/N shrugs her shoulders, her voice laced with rebellion, and purposely changes out of her leotard in front of her friend to drive the point home. She also tries not to sound too bitter about the fact that the blonde basically abandoned her after getting married and pushing a human out of her vagina. She knows her jealousy is silly. It’s just part of life. That’s how it goes. It wasn’t always going to be them vs. the world forever.

“I didn’t disappear. I had a baby,” Jo retorts on cue before her face lights up with an insane amount of excitement. “Which you could too! Then we’d both have babies.”

“Great idea,” Y/N snorts sarcastically and slips into her sneakers, playfully musing, “Who of the guys I randomly fuck would make a good baby daddy, huh? The alcoholic I met at the farmer’s market or the depressed stand-up with a heroin addiction?”

Jo sits down on the bench next to her and conspiratorially leans closer. “Can I tell you something that I realized recently?”

Y/N gives her a raised look that borders on amused. “What?”

The blonde has been a bit of a postpartum mess these days. It’s the lack of sleep and the fact that her boobs won’t stop leaking. Also, her kid is a biter.

“When I first was cast on Paradise Bay, I was thrilled, okay? I mean, it was so exciting, remember? And then they put me in that year-long coma, and I was just lying there in this hospital bed, feeling powerless. And then when season three came, and they graduated me to that wheelchair with that blanket–”

“I’m sorry… Is this going somewhere?” Y/N interrupts her because the last thing she needs to hear today is another one of Joanna’s success stories.

“I’m getting there,” Jo frowns and continues straightaway, “Anyways, I was so relieved when Sam asked me to marry him and told me to stop working. He was right. It was completely ridiculous. Why would I do this to myself, you know? I swear to God getting pregnant and written off that show was the best decision I ever made,” she tells her enthusiastically.

Y/N just twitches her shoulders and ignores the guilt that’s bubbling in her gut. “Well, we’re different people. I choose work. I can have a baby once I win an Oscar.”

Jo lets out a deep sigh, “But you’re not even working, Y/N. Don’t you wanna be happy and have a family?”

“Of course I do.” Y/N’s not sure that answer is the whole truth. She knows she’s supposed to want the supportive husband, the cute kids, and the white picket fence, but all those things come with the end of your career. She’s not ready to give up and pay that price yet. She wants to make it on her own first, not needing a hero to save her like some damsel in distress. “‘Sides, don’t I need a boyfriend for starters? Isn’t that how it works?”

“Oh, it’s not that complicated,” Jo huffs and rolls her eyes dismissively. “Just pick the first nice guy with money you find. It’s what I did. I mean, Sam is a complete idiot and so out of my league, but it works,” she shrugs. “Why don’t you come visit me in Pasadena sometimes if you miss me so much? I called you like a million times in the last few weeks.”

“I know,” Y/N groans in response and finishes buttoning her blouse, swallowing the giant lump of shame in her throat. “It’s so far away,” she excuses, even though it’s another white lie. A big one, this time.

Jo tilts her head at her, but Y/N knows the wrinkles on the blonde’s brow are not out of concern. It’s pity. She’s seen that look all her life. “Y/N, are you okay? ‘Cause you look sad and fucking depressing, honestly.”

“Thanks. But I’m fine,” she brushes her friend off with a bitter smile. “Just the usual, you know? I have $28 left to pay my bills, including rent, which is why I’ve been waitressing at that awful diner in Downey all week… Oh, and, uhm, I’ve eaten Honey Nut Cheerios for my last eight meals,” she lists off her miserable life and grabs her duffel bag, feigning the brightest grin, “But hey, I’m gonna do porn. Things are looking up.”

It’s late at night when Y/N returns to her rundown shoebox apartment. Her decorations include one dead plant and two ripped posters of Angela Lansbury and Barbra Streisand, respectively. It’s a sad affair, really.

Completely beat, she checks her fridge, which resembles an empty ice cave, except for that half-full box of cheap wine. Yeah, she can’t even afford to get drunk properly. The old mattress squeaks as she falls face-down on the bed and exhaustively snatches the rotary dial phone from her nightstand, only reaching her parents’ answering machine.

“Hey, Mom. It’s Y/N. I didn’t get the audition today either, but I’ll get another one soon. So, fingers crossed… again. But I was just wondering if you and Dad could maybe wire me some money? You know, just so I can pay my electricity bill and… eat food. I’m really sorry… I know I can’t keep asking you guys for money because I’m a grown-up now… but I swear it’s the last time, okay? And I’m aware I said that the last time, too… Anyways, love you. Call me back, please? Okay, thanks… Bye.”

Slamming the receiver onto the phone, she groans loudly and is close to screaming into her goddamn pillow. When did she become such a pathetic fucking loser?

Needless to say, she imagined her life would go a lot differently.

In the midst of her nervous breakdown, her ears then perk up at a strange noise, eyes darting warily to the window. There’s an audible jam of the lock, followed by the rustling of the yellowed blinds before a large hand pops through the crack.

Shit. Someone’s trying to break in.

Anxiously, she grabs the phone and holds it up like a weapon, her heart thrashing wildly in her ribcage, the sound ringing in her ears. Then, she bravely yells with a shaky voice, “Whoever you are, I have a knife in my hand and already called the cops!”

“Whoa, whoa… Y/N, it’s just me.” A young man’s head pokes through the window, raising his large palms with a chuckle.

Her shoulders slump, the tension of fear replaced with one of annoyance as she sighs half-heartedly in relief, recognizing the intruder. Y/N lowers her makeshift weapon, tossing it on the bed. “Oh my God! What the fuck are you doing here? Why are you climbing through my window? You can’t be here! Climb back out – now!”

“You said the last time that no one can find out about us, so I took that seriously,” he explains as he gaspingly pushes his tall body through the small opening. “Can’t you just be happy to see me, Y/N? It took some effort to come here and climb through that window, you know?” A charming laugh bounces off the thin, bare walls once he’s made it into her apartment and towers over her.

Y/N folds her arms over her chest and cocks an eyebrow, “You want credit for cheating on your wife?”

He sighs and rolls his eyes back a little, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Can we please not call it that?”

“What would you like me to call it? You’re married to someone and had sex with me,” she counters sternly. She absolutely doesn’t want him here. That man is only trouble and part of the reason why her life is so fucking shitty these days.

“Look, this isn’t normal behavior for me,” he shrugs innocently as if the madness can’t be helped and adds the softest puppy dog look. “I just-, I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“So?! It was a huge fucking mistake!” There’s a sharp inhale of breath as she tries to gulp down the anger, guilt, and shame inside of her. “It happened weeks ago! You shouldn’t be here… It was a party. The drinks were free… I-I was feeling sorry for myself, and you took advantage of that.”

Quietly clearing his throat, he mumbles under his breath, “I think we both took advantage of that.” As he meets her gaze, his whiskey-colored orbs mirror the same guilt she feels.

Y/N places her hands on her hips with a deep exhale, her head bobbing as the words sink in and her head begins to spin. She knows he’s right. They’re both equally to blame, but it doesn’t change anything about her regrets. “Please leave. Go home to your family,” she begs him softly, too soft, not enough strength left to fight.

“You can’t just pull the plug on this. You and me. This is real,” he tells her, his hazel eyes boring into hers. “I think you’re the one, Y/N.”

“No, I’m not,” she stresses with a heavy shake of her head, fighting against the tears that prick her eyes and cloud her mind. “I’m nothing special.”

Pensively, he nods and licks his lips, a humorless chuckle escaping between them as he rubs his mouth and ponders, “I keep thinking about what you said to me that night… You know, how there are shiny people who have everything? And then there are people like us who have to go to parties with those people and watch them get their pictures taken. And it’s not fair... ‘Cause we deserve good things, too. We deserve attention and love and… sex.”

Silently staring at him for what feels like an eternity, her mind races a mile a minute as her heart shatters into a thousand sharp daggers that pierce through her skin and leave deep scars in their wake. And then, Y/N foolishly crashes her lips against his just to stop the goddamn pain in her chest.

What is there to say that even justifies any of this? She’s fucking weak.

The harsh sunbeams that fall on her face and blind her eyes announce another dreadful morning as she wakes with a pessimistic groan. The bed is cold and empty; the married guy is long gone, leaving right after the fuck.

Y/N is alone again – with nowhere to go.

Why did she do what she did? In all honesty, she can’t quite understand it herself, the truth too cruel and pathetic to accept it. The only positive thing she can find about her situation is that at least she can’t sink any lower than rock bottom. She’s certain she’s reached the depths of Hell at this point. Los Angeles mistakenly gets called the city of angels. Truthfully, though, it’s filled with devils who lure you to the dark side until you can’t even look in the mirror anymore without seeing a white line instead of your own goddamn reflection.

The funny thing, though? She’s never even been into drugs or booze or whatever bad habit you can catch in this city, like an STD. She has always worked her ass off and walked the straight and narrow. And for fucking what?

Y/N is definitely at her lowest of lows, but that also means there’s nowhere to go but up, right? And when the red light on her answering machine keeps blinking, her hope and good spirit return as she eagerly presses the button, restarting the endless cycle once more.  

“Y/N, this is Josie. I have an audition for you tomorrow. I’m not running it, but I thought of you. It’s in Watts. And it’s not porn... They’re looking for unconventional women, whatever the fuck that means… Oh, and uhm, if you ever ambush me in the restroom again, I’ll make sure you’re gonna be blacklisted on every casting call in Los Angeles. Are we clear? Anyways, good luck, honey!”

A loud scream echoes through the tiny apartment. Y/N can’t believe her fucking ears and jumps excitedly up and down when Josie’s message ends, tears of joy streaming down her cheeks.

The game is back on – and it’s not fucking porn.

2. Livin’ On A Prayer

Yikes! I think it’s fairly easy to guess who this mystery guy is, but let me know all your suspicions and gasps, anyways! 😉 And don’t worry. You’re getting plenty of Dean tomorrow (some would say too much Dean) 😎😈

Everything Jensen (1st part tag only): @extraterrestriali @this-is-me19 @writercole @awkward-and-indecisive @eevvvaa @imherefordeanandbones @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior @jassackles @maggiegirl17 @perpetualabsurdity @deandreamernp @roseblue373 @lyarr24 @deanwanddamons @deanwithscissors @flamencodiva @chriszgirl92 @lhymer1995 @wittyboldsoul @djs8891 @snowlovespie​ @b3autyfuldisast3r​ @recoveringpastaaddict​ @muhahaha303​

Plastic Hearts Series: @spnexploration @jessjad @siospins2 @mrsjenniferwinchester @akshi8278 @xlynnbbyx @wayward-dreamer @foxyjwls007 @smellingofpoetry @justrealizedimmascifygurl @ladysparkles78 @leigh70 @4getfulimaginator2022 @globetrotter28​

[1000roughdrafts]

Actors x Reader Masterlist

I don't think I'll be making any more of these kinds of fics, but I'll keep up what I did do :)

One Shot xx 

🧡Like Brothers ~ (Jensen x Reader x Jared) fluff, platonic friendship; The night before this story takes place, you decided to leave your abusive, alcoholic boyfriend for good. Working on the set of Supernatural, you aren’t surprised that Jared and Jensen pick up on your new emotions. When they ask you what’s going on, their brotherly love kicks in.

Series xx

🧡When Reality Starts To Falter ~ (single!Jensen x actress!Reader / Ex!Jared x actress!reader / Dean x Reader); You get a call from your ex, Jared, to work a few scenes on the set of Supernatural as a hunter that takes a liking to Dean. The producers love the chemistry between you and Jensen, so they decide to give you a full time gig. Feelings for Jared come back in a flush, but over time as your character falls for Dean you find yourself falling for Jensen.(completed)   

Misha x Reader

Requests/Drabbles xx 

❤️What’s So Funny? ~ angst? fluff? humor?; Reader is taken to set of SPN and asked to run lines with Misha. When the director offers her a job, Misha can’t stop laughing 

❤️ “Miss, do you have a minute?” ~ fluff 

❤️“You are my sunshine.” ~ fluff 

❤️ “Heard you’re heading my way” ~ fluff 

❤️“I told you not to come here.” ~ angst (Cass x Reader)

❤️“What do we have here?” ~ angst 

❤️“I am so sorry.” ~ sad, animal death 

[wiypt-writes]

25 Days Of CHRIS-Mas

Day 25: A CHRIS-Mas Carol

Past

Summary: You and Chris have a love/hate relationship…in that you love to hate one another. But it hasn’t always been that way, and sometimes, to build a better future, someone has to be the bigger person and remember why and how it wasn’t always that bad.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Actress Reader

Warnings: Bad Language, smut (NSFW, 18+)

W/C: Hazard a guess about 4k ish?! Poss more.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction, any likeness to any persons or events in real life are purely co-incidental. I do not own any characters contained herein bar the reader and/or any original characters. I do not give consent for my work to be copied and posted/translated onto any other sites. If you see this fiction anywhere other than Tumblr, it has been taken without permission.By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer and ALL warnings posted here.

A/N: So this is my first EVER RPF and came from an idea I’ve had in my head for ages. It’s split into 3: Past, Present, Future. Posted on mobile with my left hand. Apologies in advance for any mistakes!

25 Days Of CHRIS-mas Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Day 24: Andy Barber (Defending Jacob)

“Reflect upon your present blessings—of which every man has many—not on your past misfortunes, of which all men have some.”

Early December, 2013

"You know I can’t tell you that!” You laughed, shaking your head. “I’ll get shot. All I can say is they’re keeping very true to Shadow’s comic book character. So, if you know you know. And I’m really excited to join the MCU. For a comic book geek like me, it’s a dream come true.”

Chris watched as you sat in the directors chair, next to Kelly and Michael, right in front of Disney World's Epcot, filming a segment for Live! With Kelly and Michael. You was there, doing an interview for your next film, due out this Christmas, about King Nicholas' daughter trying to find a way to bring the magic of the holidays back to her kingdom.

Filming a Disney animated film had been a dream come true for you and he knew it. Yet, he had to laugh at the way Michael snuck in a Marvel question.

“So you can’t give us any little snippets about the next Cap film?” Kelly pleaded, “nothing?”

“Nope.” You laughed, wagging your finger, “you’ll have to wait for the official press tour in the new year.”

Chris rolled his eyes as you dodged the typical questions. Filming had wrapped back in June of this year and the sequel to blockbuster hit, The First Avenger, was set to premiere in mid-March. Yet it was a well versed fact that everyone would try and cajole snippets out of the Marvel cast any way they could.

There was some more chat then about how voicing animation differed to live action movies and then, he sat up as Michael hit you with a question that wasn’t entirely off topic, but made him cringe nonetheless.

“So, in A Christmas Wish, Jeffrey Dean Morgan plays, or voices, your father, King Nicholas and obviously you starred alongside him and Chris Evans in The Losers a few years back. How did it feel being reunited again with your old costars?”

"Well, the weird thing is, I actually didn't see Jeff until we were doing press, because the beauty of animation is you can kinda record it anywhere. Where with Chris…” You hesitated and he groaned, knowing full well that was going to be picked up on. “Well, I was literally stuck with him in tight quarters sometimes for three months,” you laughed, trying to keep it light although your eyes told a different story.

“I can think of worse places to be stuck.” Kelly mused and you snorted. 

“Well, it… it can get hard when you’re living on top of one another for so long, it definitely helps when you get along.” You diplomatically answered.

"Do you though?" Michael seized his chance. "Does everyone get along? I mean, we're you the freshman here?"

Chris inhaled as Michael and Kelly both pressed you, and he watched you squirm to as you clearly were thinking of a way to dodge or redirect.

In the end, to his surprise, you did neither.

“Okay, I know what you’re hinting at, the rumours of a rift  between me and Evans so to speak but… ya know, we had a few creative differences but that’s it,” you feigned a casual shrug. “Chris is a passionate guy and knows Steve Rogers and is protective over him. I know my character and there were a few little disagreements on some aspects of filming in a couple of scenes but… it all gets left on set. You gotta draw that line, ya know?”

Chris could tell that, despite your best attempt to appear otherwise, you were rattled. Especially as your left hand toyed with your earlobe. He snorted and scoffed as he remembered exactly the moment you were talking about. It hadn’t been left on set, far from it. For once the trash mags had been correct in their reporting.

Thankfully, the interview went back to your current project and then finished about ten minutes later.

At that point, Chris shut the television off and got himself ready for the gym. It was early afternoon when he got a message from Meghan asking if he’d checked his Twitter. 

With a groan he opened up his account and searched through. Sure enough, you were trending as was he. The original article from TMZ, originally published mid-shoot, which had reported the argument so to speak was being dug up and reblogged again along with a bunch of new comments. The majority of people tweeting seemed to take your denial of said rift as confirmation.

And his fans were wasting no time in twisting the knives.

With an eye roll he called Meghan. “Well, this is fun…”

“You think?” She scoffed, “that was a pretty shitty question they asked her."

"She should have been better prepared but she handled it well, I mean, she's normally one to run her mouth.”

“Stop it," Megan scolded. "You are one to talk."

“Meaning?”

"Look, that's not the current point, what is is there's now a cacophony of comments and before you get a good lashing from Marvel, or her team jump in with something that paints you out to be the asshole, you need to redirect."

He sighed, “you told me not to say anything last time!”

"Well, clearly this is snowballing a second time and we need to stop it, so redirect. Post something political, or, I don't know, hug a tree or a strangers dog and take a picture."

“Message understood.”

“And call Y/N, thank her for not actually saying what she was probably wanting to."

“No. Hard pass." He shook his head as he spoke.

“I wasn’t asking.”

"Fine." Chris grumbled. "But I'm not happy about it."

“Good boy,” came the sarcastic reply.

He ended the call and with a huge groan scrolled through his contacts, stopping at one; PIMA. With a deep breath and an eye roll, he hit call and sat tapping his foot as he tried to reach you.

“What do you want?” You answered after his third attempt.

"Saw your slow pitfall this morning. I'm supposed to be thanking you for not speaking your mind. So... Thanks." He chewed on his cheek. 

She scoffed, “well you can tell Meg you did as you were told, good boy. How the fuck she puts up with you I don’t know.”

"Why are you such a brat?”

“And don’t worry, my team have no response to this shit storm on social media prepared. I can’t be bothered.”

“You know, there wouldn't be a shit storm to not be bothered with and we wouldn't be having this conversation if you'd just done what you’re media coached to do and that's reflect, redirect and move on. You....got sucked in." He growled.

There was a pause, “fuck you!” You snarled in response, “I deflected well enough and saved your precious golden boy reputation despite me being well within my rights not to-“

“Within your rights?”

“-do you have any idea how it felt earlier in the year when that article broke? Your fans ripped me apart. I was fat, ugly, fame hungry and you did NOTHING to stop any of it!”

"Shoes fit, sweetheart. You came at me, remember? You said you didn't like how Joe and Anthony had pinned you and Scarlett up like they had, you didn't like the way we had to improvise. I simply defended a character I've been for quite some time."

There was a pause as you took a deep breath, “I didn’t come at you!! I raised a concern I had, and Scarlett, Seb and Mackie had my back but you, you made me feel like shit on set. Like I was stupid, dumb…and left me to the wolves. You know what, Marvel might be my first big break but it’s yours too, remember that, asshole!”

The line went dead as the call purposely dropped on your end. Chris grumbled as he tossed his phone down and ran his hands over his face, scratching at that beard of his that was slowly growing back in. "Jesus, she's fahking impossible. Boils my blood."

But something about what you said was nagging at him. Sure, things had gotten hairy on set but he had simply assumed you’d ignored the comments and reactions arms he had. And he certainly hadn’t set out to belittle you.

It bothered him all the more because during filming for The Losers, you’d been tight. Real tight. It made him a little sad to think somewhere that had gotten lost along the way.

He looked at the phone again and was just about to call you back, perhaps attempt to maybe talk it through a little more calmly, when it lit up. Mackie was calling.

"What's up, dude?"

“Listen, far be it from me to get involved but what the fuck is with you and Y/N. She’s just called me in hysterics.”

Chris hung his head as if Mackie could see him. "I needed to talk to her and it ended like it always does, a fahking death match."

“Listen, I’m gonna say my piece and I’m done but don’t you think this had got outta hand? She merely questioned what the endgame with Shadow was. It wasn’t a dig st the improv scene. She just couldn’t see how it fit. But that aside, you really thinks she deserves the hatchet job that’s going down now?”

He had him there. No she didn't, neither of them did.

"You fucking idiot." Mackie sighed deeply when Chris remained silent. “Look, I’m on my way over to see her…”

“You’re in Florida?”

“She invited us over so the kids could enjoy Disney World. We’re going to the premiere. Her parents can’t make it, her dad ain’t been well.“

"She... Oh." Again, the situation left him without words, a rare occurance for himself. Then he sighed. "Just text me when you're done, huh? I'll try calling her later when she's calmed down."

But Anthony wasn’t done, “you know, she met with Feige a few weeks back? Asked him how much it would cost to back out of her contract and recast her.”

That floored him. "What?"

“You heard.”

"Fahk." He drawled in his slow, thick Boston accent.

"Yeah, fuck." Mackie mimicked. "You need to calmly fix this, for all our sakes."

“How? Like…”

“I dunno man, be more Steve Rogers… perhaps mean your apology.” There was a pause before Anthony laughed, “actually don’t, because he’s a reckless, stubborn asshole.”

"We're a lot alike in that sense." Chris sighed. "I'll think of something. Just... Keep her from going off the rails with ya? We used to be friends. We were tight, years ago. Then, I have no clue."

"I'll do my best, see you in the new year.”

"Yeah, see you man. Give my best to the wife and kids."

The call ended and Chris groaned. This was shit, and right now he felt like an asshole. He hated bullies, another of Steve’s traits he shared but now, he was beginning to feel a little like one.

And this was all down to the fact he couldn’t control his real feelings…

“Dick head,” biting his cheek he picked up his phone, checking Twitter again and grimaced. Some of it had taken a real nasty turn.

“Oh, fahk this…” he grumbled, and before he could back out, he typed a tweet.

It wasn’t much, but for now it was the best he could think of. His words were true, you were. As he sat and thought about everything, looking around in his lonely, huge, Hollywood hills home, he sighed as the bones of a plan formed on his head.

Standing from his couch, he headed for his room. This idea was not smart, it would stir a tonne of shit, and Megan would highly disapprove, but, he knew deep down you weren’t going to take his calls, no matter how hard Anthony worked at you. This called for desperate measures.

He refused to be the reason someone walked out of a job, a job that was going to skyrocket one incredibly talented and beautiful woman into the fast lane of her career.

"Josh, I need a favor. Or two...."

🎄🎄🎄🎄

You woke the next morning with a banging head. Mackie and you had sunk a very expensive scotch before he had left in the early hours of the morning after you’d assured him you were okay.

If anything you were embarrassed, annoyed too at how much that Bostonian Bastard could get under your skin.

Grumbling into your pillow you tried to comprehend where it all had gone wrong so quickly. Your time in Costa Rica years ago with him and the rest of The Losers was a great time, one of the times you'd ever had on set. You and Chris had been close, very close. Almost crossing that line between friends and more but not quite making it. But you’d left things on good terms, stayed in touch, talked and chatted when you saw one another at events and the like.

You’d been excited to get the part in Marvel, even more so when you were told you’d be one of the leads in the second Cap film… but for some reason, Chris had been lukewarm at best the moment you arrived on set. You, being fresh from a breakup, had probably let it get to you more than you should but it had. And still did. Because you didn’t understand. 

"Fucking asshole," you groaned, slowly sitting up. You grimly looked around your bedroom and sighed. "Shower, then coffee, no, coffee then shower."

You called downstairs for fresh coffee and toast with some greasy bacon and eggs, some potatoes and fruit. Then decided showering the stench of scotch away was a good idea while you waited for room service.

Just as you’d dressed in a pair of jeans and a logo tee, there was a knock on your door.

"Just a second!" You called our, towelling off your wet hair, bare feet padding to the door.

You swung it open, but weren’t greeted by your breakfast.

"What the fuck?”

Blue eyes pierced yours from under the brim of a Red Sox cap, a sweatshirt and jeans covering his body. "Room Service?"

“Idiot!” You hissed, glancing up and down the corridor. 

You yanked him inside and grabbed your cart behind him. "Just what the fuck are you doing here?" Your head spun, it throbbed.

“I wanted to talk to you, and you won’t answer my calls.”

“Yeah, there’s a reason for that, I don’t wanna talk to you!”

"Y/N," he sighed, taking your hands, "come on, this is extreme. We're too old for this shit."

"Extreme?” You yanked your hands away. “You're preaching to me about extreme actions when you literally just flew over three thousand miles all because your co-star didn't answer your phone call. How fucking childish! Even for you!" 

"Ant told me you went to see Fiege."

At that you blinked and then shook your head. “He had no right to do that.”

"Deal with that later," he popped a potato in his mouth. "Sit down and talk to me. Obviously, as you pointed out, I flew over three thousand miles to fix whatever absolute disaster has been created between us for whatever fahking reason. We used to be friends."

“Yeah, and then you turned into an asshole.” You wrapped your arms around your chest as you blinked back tears. “You made me feel like shit!”

"I'm sorry, you're right, I did, I was. I am an asshole. I don’t know where we went wrong.”

“You! You went wrong…”

“Fine, but why has it taken us six months to sit down and talk about this?"

You blinked and scoffed, “I had no desire to talk to you and be told I was being a drama Queen! You brushed me off, were cold… I’ve got no answers because I don’t KNOW!”

"Then we're at an impasse because I don't know either."

"You wasted your time and money on this trip, Chris."

“Clearly,” he sighed, “but God loves a trier huh?”

You stared at him, unable to even think if this was a scotch dream, your worst nightmare or the ghosts of Christmas past and present playing one fucked up trick on you.

“Look,” he leaned forward in his seat a little, blue eyes trained on you. “For what it’s worth I’m sorry. I’ve no explanation, I should have seen how it was making you feel, and for what it’s worth, I meant what I tweeted last night. And if you leave now, I think it will be a huge mistake on your part, and a huge loss for the rest of us.”

You licked your lips, your bottom one being pulled through your teeth. Your hand ran through your wet hair. "I can't... I don't know. The offer is on the table. I'm supposed to be back in LA to meet with them again after Christmas."

“They actually said you could sever?”

"We're negotiating." You answered honestly.

Chris took a deep breath and nodded, “I’m assuming there’s a deadline seeing as we’re supposed to start the prep for filming the next Avengers on March.”

"Like I said, after Christmas."

“Okay.” He slapped his thighs and stood up. “I’ll leave you to it. I’ve said my piece and, well, I’m sure you’ll do what’s right for you. But, I do mean this, it’ll be a shame to see you go,”

You grabbed his forearm, "Chris..."

“Yeah?”

"I don't want to go. But I don't know if I can handle this anymore," you admitted shyly.

He hung his head, “yeah I get that too. And I’m sorry. I really am.”

"Is it me? Am I that hard to work with? Because we didn't have this problem before."

“No, not at all. I just… I honestly didn’t mean to act like I did. I don’t know what it was. I wasn’t aware I was doing anything, certainly not before our bust up anyway. But that’s not an excuse, I get it.”

You looked at him for a moment. His eyes were earnestly searching yours, his face genuinely contrite and you could tell he was being honest.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, deciding to take the olive branch. For your sake, not his…

"Maybe I took it more personal than I needed to. I just... I'd just gotten out of something and I brought it to work with me. Failed the first rule, you know."

“We all do that.” He chuckled then sighed. “Have you heard from him recently?”

"No. He's with... It doesn't matter, he's moved on. I gave him the ring back and that's it."

“His loss.” Chris shrugged. 

There was a brief pause as you thought about him. How it went down and how much it hurt you. 

"He felt threatened. My career was going up and his stalled." You shrugged. "He didn't want me to take the Marvel job."

“Yeah well, for the record, I never liked the prick.”

“And there he is,” you chuckled, shaking your head, “there’s the Chris I know and kinda like.”

“Kinda?”

“Don’t push it.” Your smile was soft. You sighed. "What the fuck happened?" You stood. "I... We..."

“I don’t know, I wish I did.”

"You kissed me in Costa Rica. It was the wrap party, we never spoke of it again."

Chris swallowed, “I know. I… well, I pulled a Steve, didn’t I? By the time I got my head out my ass, you were dating him and… well, I got back together with Minka…”

"You won out, I'm the over dramatic, single one." You chuckled uncomfortably.

“Hardly,” he shook his head, “ didn’t work for either of us did it?”

"You.... The two of you..."

"Two months ago. We're just not the same people. We tried. Gave it a year but," he shook his head. 

“I had no idea! How the fuck did I miss that?”

“Well, we didn’t make a huge deal of it. It’s mostly gone under the radar so far, and it’s not like we really talked is it? I know you don’t like her.”

“She also doesn’t like me.”

You gave him a second, a chance to see if there was anything he wanted to share more but didn't. 

"Okay, let’s… I… start over.” You licked your lips, “just… try not to be dickheads?”

"Deal, easy as that."

“Okay,” you nodded, “I don’t wanna be rude but I’m meeting Ant and the kids in an hour but…” your hands pulled at one another.

"Well, maybe if you don't have plans, we can grab some drinks, on the down low later? Either my room or yours, just hang out, talk, catch up?"

"Sure, erm… I can message you when I’m back?”

"Yep, I'll be here. Josh snagged me a premiere ticket just in case you slammed the door on me now. I figured I'd keep trying until you talked to me."

"Pretty extreme, even for you, Evans."

"Don’t worry, I was going in through the backdoor. You've had enough bullshit this week thanks to me."

“Maybe showing a united front would stop this bullshit once and for all,” you mused.

“Maybe, we can talk it through later. I’m happy to do whatever.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it,”

"I mean it. Whatever started this shit, I fucked up, and I'm sorry." He now stood at the door, his hand in the handle.

You were behind him. “Fresh start remember?”

"I know, just..." He pointed to his head, "clearing out the noise."

“Gets loud in there huh? I feel ya.” You gestured to your own.

"We should talk about that shit, some time, like we used to."

“One step at a time,” you gave him a soft smile.

"I'll see you tonight. Maybe." He reached out to hug you. 

"Yeah, maybe." You hugged him back. 

With a final nod he left and you watched the door close behind you. You stood still before you wiped the tears from your cheeks and turned to get ready for your day.

🎄🎄🎄🎄

Part 2: Present

[deans-mind-palace]

Nightcrawler

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Summary: Jensen and you never got along well. But when a stunt accident almost caused him losing you, everything changes. What will Jensen have to say if you wake up?

Word Count: 2,182

Warnings: Description of an accident, Mean!Jensen, Angst, Fluff

Author’s Note: Based on this request. Anonymous: Can I ask a Jensen x fem!reader, where reader is an actress on spn. Jensen kinda hates her (like don’t like her). One day some stunt accident happens on set and reader goes in critical situation. Jensen gets very upset, stays with reader every time from ambulance till hospital. Goes crazy over the reader surprising Jared, Misha and other people on ser since everyone assumed he doesn’t like her. But he ends up confessing to reader at the end and alllll fluffy end?

It was late in the evening, but you had just arrived on the set for your shoot today. It was a night shoot, because the scene had to be shot in the dark outside on the studio grounds. It was a particularly important scene and you were late, so you hurried straight into make-up.

"Look who's late. Again." Jensen greeted you friendly as always. You rolled your eyes. "Mind your own business, Ackles." you were giving back before falling in the chair next to Misha. It was the seat furthest away from the blond actor. Misha sighed after you gave your best friend a quick hug. "I will never understand your hatred for each other." he muttered with a side glance at Jensen, who was now excitedly engrossed in a conversation with Jared and the make-up artist.

The truth was that you and Jensen didn't like each other from the very beginning. In your eyes he was an arrogant ass who looked good and was fully aware of that fact. In his eyes you were a bitch who couldn't understand a joke and was closed off. Neither of you had ever bothered to look behind the façade of the other one. Right on your first day on set you had argued so terribly that the shooting of the scene had to be stopped. When you were told a few weeks ago that you were to play Dean's love interest in the series from now on, the arguments between you had reached their peak.

"So, nervous about shooting tonight?" Misha ripped you out of your thoughts. You took a deep breath and tried to give him a halfway confident smile. "Oh, no. It's okay," you said. Misha saw right through you and gave you an encouraging smile. "I'll be okay. Don't worry about it." Further back you could hear the deep laughter of Jensen and Jared patted him on the shoulder in a brotherly way. You turned your eyes away when Jensen looked over.

A few minutes after your make-up was ready, a young personal assistant also walked into the trailer. "Ms L/N? We need you on set in ten," he reminded you. "Of course, thank you." you smiled. Then he looked at you nervously and fidgeted. Your eyebrows furrowed in wonder. "Can I help you with anything else?" you asked and smiled at the nervous student. "Err... No - Yes. Y-yes. I-I'm a big fan of yours. You're such a great actress and-" Jensen snorted in the background, for which you gave him a deadly look that made the young PA freeze completely, but Jensen was not the least bit bothered. You smiled reassuringly at the PA and granted him his wish for a selfie, then he led you to the set and lectured you for a few more minutes on how great he thought you were. You smiled and nodded from time to time, but you were far too nervous about the upcoming shoot to really listen to him. He didn't seem to notice that.

The spotlights were already set up and radiated the dark area. Cameras were flashing and the car was ready.  It was time for the shoot. A bit away, Jensen sat in his chair and watched the action. Technicians hurried across the set. Cameramen were changing settings and the director gave final instructions for the scene.

"Everyone to their places, please!" shouted the director and clapped his hands. You took off your bathrobe and swallowed before stepping on your green mark. Immediately the director approached you. "You ready, Y/N?" he asked you. "This is an important and difficult scene. You must be ready for it because we only have one car, the next one would have to be delivered first." You nodded, unable to put your doubts into words. You wanted to appear professional, damn it! "All right, you know how the scene works? You're standing on the marker. The car, possessed by a demon, is going to race towards you, but you jump aside at the last second because you lure it into a trap and it crashes into the wall behind you. All right?" he went over the sequence of the scene with you again. "Yes." Your voice sounded uncertain, but he didn't seem to notice. "Fine, let's do it." He turned away.

"Light? "Check." "Camera? "Rolling." "Silence on set, please. Scene 17, Take 1. Go!"

As soon as the engine of the car in front of you stuttered to life, the sweat broke out on your forehead. Your fingers trembled, but it appeared as if it was part of your acting. You swallowed and your fingers clenched into fists. "Come on!" you shouted to the possessed car. "Come and get me!" The headlights of the car flickered and it roared a couple of times on the spot. The radio turned up loud and AC/DC's 'Highway to Hell' came out of the speakers, before the tires screeched and spun, and then the car started moving rapidly. Now it was getting serious. When the car crossed the green line, you had to jump to the side onto the green mat.

But the car approached the green line relentlessly and you were frozen like a deer caught in the headlights. Literally. When it reached the green line, you couldn't move a muscle. Immediately, panic broke out around you and the last thing you saw were Jensen's green, wide-open eyes filled with panic before the car hit you.

Suddenly everything happened very quickly. You felt a stabbing pain shoot through your legs as you collided with the bumper. Immediately, you were hurled over the hood, bounced over the roof and hit the ground. Blood ran from your hand and forehead where you had been smashed into the glass. Pain shot through your entire body, then everything went black.

For a split second there was complete silence on the set, then hell broke loose. The director instructed everyone to stay calm, an ambulance was called, but Jensen didn't notice the chaos around him. His gaze was locked on your motionless body as if in a trance. Then he jumped up and started running. Kneeling on the ground, he slid towards you. You had lost consciousness and blood was running from the cuts on your hands. His fingers trembled as he brushed the locks of hair from your face. He would have loved to lay your head in his lap and watched over you until the ambulance arrived, but he knew there was a chance the fall had broken your spine. Your face was pale and smeared with red crimson.

Suddenly he heard yelling in the background. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Misha rushed out of the trailer followed by Jared and ran towards Y/N. Jensen held your bloody hand and stroked your forehead. Your breath was very shallow. He paid no attention to his panicked friend at all. All his attention and concern was only for you. As if in shock, his gaze kept wandering over your wounds. His breathing trembled and with every breath he had the feeling that his chest would burst. Should it end like this? You dying in front of him? Never again your cheeky comments or your bickering in the morning when you arrived late on set again? Would he never be able to make you coffee with too much sugar purposely, because he knew how much you hated sugar in your coffee? Or would he never ever listen to your complaints you always made when you were getting your hair done next to him and he just rolled his eyes? Would he never see the sparkle in your eyes again when a day of shooting was successfully completed? Or would he never feel the joy again when he saw you again after a long break in shooting, even though he would never admit it? A lump formed in his throat and he swallowed. Next to him Jared moved Misha away.

Suddenly, turmoil broke out again. The ambulance hurried to the set and immediately bent down to you. Jensen did not hear their words. But the doctor ordered two paramedics to lay you down on the stretcher. "Sir, you have to let go of her hand now," One of the paramedics told him. "N-no." Jensen shook his head violently. "I-I can't leave her alone." The very thought filled his stomach with nausea. His voice croaked. "I ask you only once more, Sir." But Jensen made no move. Suddenly, Jared grabbed him from behind and pulled him away. Jensen tried to fight back, but he was afraid to cause you more damage. "No! I can't leave her, Jared," he yelled in panic and tried to free himself from the iron grip of his best friend. "Sssh. It's okay, Jensen! It's gonna be okay! They're taking her to the hospital now," Jared explained calmly. But Jensen didn't take his words seriously.

"Let me be with her," Jensen pleaded. "Okay, it's okay, Jay. I'll take you to the hospital." Jensen shook his head. The paramedic cleared his throat because he felt sorry for the distraught man. "Family members are allowed to ride in the ambulance, so..." Even before he had finished the sentence, Jensen had already started running. Shoulder shrugging, Jared looked at the Doctor. "I'll catch up with my friend." He nodded at Misha, who was beside himself. The doctor nodded.

In the car, Jensen had already taken your hand. Gently he stroked the skin with his thumb, careful not to touch any of your wounds. The paramedics put you on all kinds of tubes and you still weren't conscious. Jensen got sick at the sight of all the wires running into your body. All the needles they stuck under your skin. Suddenly the ECG kicked in and your heartbeat started beating flat. "Fractures of the ribs 11 to 12. Craniocerebral trauma. Multiple contusions and a broken leg. Also some superficial lacerations." explained a paramedic. " Her condition is critical. She has sustained severe head injuries and internal bleeding cannot be ruled out. A hematoma is probably already forming. She must go to the O.R. immediately for a trepanation." The paramedic's gaze was serious as the ambulance reached the hospital. The doors of the ambulance were ripped open and the stretcher was taken out. Immediately, the paramedic informed the doctors and nurses of your state of health.

You were immediately taken to an operating room and Jensen was asked to take a seat in the waiting area. He wandered up and down nervously. Soon Misha and Jared arrived. Y/N's family would not arrive in Vancouver until tomorrow afternoon. So you had no family. A few hours later, one of the leading doctors arrived. "Gentlemen. Ms. L/N made it through the operation in good shape. We had to stabilize several fractures with screws and drill a hole in her skull to give the pressure room to dissipate." Jensen went pale. Jared pulled him into the seat next to him so he wouldn't faint. "It'll be a few more hours before she wakes up. She is now under the influence of strong painkillers, but you may see her now," the doctor explained. He gave the room number.

Jared came into the room with a cup of coffee for Jensen. Misha had gone home several hours ago to meet Y/N's parents in the afternoon. But Jensen had not left your side. Jared supplied him with coffee for the third time already and yawned tiredly. It was already 8 a.m. and they hadn't slept all night. "I'm leaving now, Jay. And you should rest too. She's fine. They'll let us know when she wakes up." But Jensen didn't answer. Jared put the coffee on a small table and left the room. Jensen sat by your bed and had trouble keeping his eyes open. The constant beeping of the ECG lulled him in and calmed him down.

When you woke up, your whole body felt numb. The painkillers clouded your mind and you didn't know where you were for a moment until it all came back to you. The accident.

You looked around the white room until your eyes fell on a blond mop of hair. Jensen's head was on your bed. His hand in yours. He had pressed his forehead against your hand in his sleep. Worry overshadowed his sleeping face. You were surprised. Gently you released your wired hand from his grip and stroked his cheek. At once he blinked and jumped up. "Y/N! You are awake! Oh, thank God!" You saw his eyes shimmer with tears of relief. "I thought I had lost you," he said and his voice broke. "Jensen, it's all right," you muttered reassuringly. He nodded, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When they opened again the green sparkled intensely.

"Y/N. I'm sorry for what I did. I was an ass. I want to apologize for all this. I acted like an idiot because I didn't know how to handle it, but -" He took a deep breath. "The truth is, I love you, Y/N."

Wanna get tagged? Check out the link in my bio or drop an ask/comment.

Jensen/Dean tags: @vicariouslythruspn​ @crazybutconfidentaf​ @zizzlekwum​ @ashthefirefox​ @outofnowhere82​ @rintheemolion​  @myopiamystical​ @vicmc624​ @imaginationisgrowth

[deansmyapplepie]

Musically Inclined

Pairing; Sam Winchester x reader

Tags: implied smut, flustered!reader, flustered!Sam, Supernatural the Musical, confused!Dean

Word Count: 1,720

A/N: Based on S10, E5

(Gif not mine)

The two Winchesters got out of the front seats of the car in unrehearsed and unplanned unison, causing you to roll your eyes. It's like they were trying to be the unrealistic FBI agents from hoaky television shows. By the time you made it out of the car, they were already making their way up to the school. Damn them and their long legs.

"Hey!" you called after them irritably. "Are you guys gonna wait for me, or what?"

"Nah," Dean responded. Had you not been trying to keep up the professional façade, you may or may not have punched him in the arm.

"So," Sam started his signature run-down, "the last place Mrs. Chandler was seen by anyone was in the auditorium. Turns out, she's the drama teacher." Dean let out an exasperated sigh as you walked, his face more than enough for you to be able to tell that he already didn't like where this case was going.

"Theater kids. Great," he mumbled sarcastically.

"I was a theater kid," Sam said defensively. A wide grin broke out across your face, and you looked up at the tall Winchester with glee.

"No shit? I've got to hear this." Sam's lips turned almost nonexistent as he pressed them into a tight line. "No, wait, don't tell me. I can see it now: Sam Winchester himself on a stage under a spotlight, reciting Shakespearian verses in iambic pentameter."

"That ain't too far off from what he does now," Dean said under his breath as he leaned toward you conspiratorially. You snorted loudly, and Sam came to an immediate stop. Had you not been paying attention, you probably would've rammed right into him.

"You done?" he asked. Dean clapped his brother on the shoulder.

"Oh, come on, Sam, give us a line!" He only shook his head in response as the two of you continued to poke fun at him.

"Shut up."

"That's a shame," you piped up. "He would've made a great Hamlet." As the younger Winchester turned away, you thought you caught him fighting a smile. When the three of you entered the auditorium, Dean shook his head with slight disgust.

"Okay, seriously, what could possibly-"

"Idjits!" The three of you turned in surprise. It had been a long time since you had heard that. The only person who ever called the boys that was... Bobby? A teenage girl turned around, dressed in a khaki fisherman's vest, a plaid button-up t-shirt, and a worn baseball hat. She even had on a fake beard to match Bobby's appearance. "You are idjits!" she continued. You turned to the boys with a question on your lips, but before you could say anything-

"Hey, assbutt!" Another girl further away held a fake molotov cocktail with sparkly angel wings, a trenchcoat, and an unmistakable blue tie.

"Do-" You were cut off once again as an urgent piano chorus began to play throughout the auditorium, effectively causing you and the boys to jolt in surprise.

"John and Mary, husband and wife. Bringing home a brand-new life.” Your attention was diverted to the stage, where what you were assuming what was supposed to be Sam and Dean's parents carried in a fake baby, placing it in a crib.

"No way," you breathed as you latched onto Sam's arm for support. You were in total shock as the musical number continued to go on. "Th-that's you!" you stammered, fighting the urge to point. Sam nodded tightly.

"I know," he replied.

"On the road so far. They met a woman on the way-” The teenage actress version of you came onto the stage with an impressive-looking fake shotgun. The weapon recoiled in her hands, and the fake werewolf collapsed to the ground. 

“And that’s me!” You remembered meeting the boys like it was yesterday, but seeing it acted out in front of you with such accuracy was surreal.

“When the boys were toast, she saved the day. Birds of a feather, now they hunt together. Teaming up to save the world.”

"Cut!" Suddenly, the music came to a stop, and a girl with a beret leaped to her feet in the front row.

"What in the h-holy..." Dean breathed.

"There is a case," Sam put in. "Probably has something to do with all this." How he was able to keep such a level head right now, you had no clue. You could barely think straight.

"You think?" Dean sassed. The girl with the beret came rushing up to the three of you with another girl at her side, and all traces of your conversation died.

"Are you guys from the publisher?" she asked excitedly. She didn't even wait to take a breath before continuing. "I'm Marie, the writer/director, this is Maeve, my stage manager, and..." Marie trailed off as you fished through your blazer pocket for your FBI badge. Before you could get it out, though, Sam placed an urgent hand on your arm, causing you to look up at the stage. No way. The three girls playing Sam, Dean, and you were all holding up fake badges to their counterparts.

"I'm Special Agent Smith," Sam introduced somewhat breathlessly. "These are my partners, Special Agent-"

"Jones," you filled in.

"Smith," Dean said. Two Smiths? You would have to remember to thank Dean for overcomplicating things later.

"No relation," Sam was quick to explain. "We're here to look into the appearance-"

"There's no singing in Supernatural!" Dean exclaimed. Biting back a sigh, you and Sam both shot Dean a look. So much for subtlety.

"Well, this is Marie's interpretation," Maeve said with a frown. Dean let out a sound that was a mixture of a strangled laugh and a groan.

"They're entitled to their creative vision," you justified before he could say anything else. "Just because you don't like that they made Supernatural into a musical doesn't mean that you have to-"

"Dean cannot find out about this." The words instantly clicked in your brain, and you totally lost track of what you had been saying. On the stage behind Marie and Maeve, the two actresses playing Sam and yourself were running lines. "He would never let us live it down." Sam's actress took your actress's hand, and you felt a blush rise to your cheeks.

"If Dean finds out, he can deal with it. We're all adults here. Besides, it's not like he's never slept with someone before." The teenage actress version of you shook her head.

"Yeah, Sam, but it's different this time! We're not just talking about sex between two random people. This is you and me that we're talking about here."

"Oh, God," was all you were able to say. That had happened a few years ago when you were still blissfully unaware that Chuck was writing and selling books about your life with the Winchesters. That moment, in particular, was supposed to be private. Sam caught your eye with an expression of horror that was incredibly similar to your own. Holy shit. Dean spluttered for a moment before he was finally able to get comprehensible words out. He looked at you with disbelief.

"You-" Thankfully, you were able to give him a discreet shake of your head before he totally blew your cover. "Y/N and Sam," he corrected himself, "are... together?"

"They're not together," you and Sam chimed in at the same time. The skin between Marie's eyebrows crinkled as she stared at you.

"What are you talking about?" she asked incredulously. "Y/N and Sam have been hooking up since book two. That's canon."

"Oh my God," you repeated miserably. You barely heard a word the boys said as they did the standard case questioning with Marie and Maeve. Meanwhile, you were more focused on how many of your intimate moments with Sam were going to be on stage.

"So, how 'bout you give the two of us a behind-the-scenes tour-" You tuned in just as Sam was gesturing between him and yourself. "-while your director shows my partner Mrs. Chandler's office. Deal?" The two girls nodded wordlessly. "Great. Give us a moment, please."

"Okay," Marie agreed. As the two of them made their way back down to the stage, you continued to stand there in stunned silence.

"I'm gonna throw up," Dean said. You nodded numbly.

"Seconded."

"Yeah, by the way, were you two ever gonna tell me about that?" he asked.

"No."

"Absolutely not." Both your and Sam's words came out in a jumble, and you glanced at the tall man sheepishly.

"Well, you heard the girl!" Dean said, throwing his hands up in the air. "It's 'canon!' So, is it still going on, or what?" You made a face at his question.

"Dean!" Sam scolded. Your entire lives were on display in musical form for the rest of the world to see, and he wanted to know if you were still sleeping with his brother?

"That can't seriously be what you're most concerned about right now," you huffed as you crossed your arms over your chest. Dean's eyes only got wider as he ignored your comment.

"Well?" he pressed on. "Is it?" You and the younger Winchester exchanged another wary glance. He clearly wasn't going to let it go until he got his answer.

"No!" you exclaimed. Dean arched an eyebrow disbelievingly. "I'm serious, Dean. Sam and I haven't hooked up in a long time." The oldest Winchester looked to his brother for verification.

"It's true," Sam confirmed. Dean shook his head somewhat manically.

"I can't believe this. Friggin' musicals," he started to mutter as he shuffled away. "Andrew Floyd Webber crap."

"Andrew Lloyd," Sam corrected. Dean turned around, making a face.

"What?" When you shook your head at him, he rolled his eyes and headed for the stage. When he was finally out of earshot, you let out a breath of relief.

"I think we're in the clear," you whispered. Sam watched his brother, who seemed to be coaching "Cas" on how to throw his molotov cocktail. What a dweeb. The younger Winchester's hand found its way to the small of your back.

"You really think he bought that?" he leaned down to murmur in your ear. You shrugged.

"I don't know," you admitted. "But maybe we should knock it off for a while just to be safe." Sam nodded.

"Agreed."

Thank you so much for reading!

As always, links to my masterlist, taglist, and inbox (requests are open!) are in my bio!

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[jawritter]

Jokes On You...

Request: Can you write reader x J2 (platonic), like reader is teen actress, she is close with Jared but Jensen hates her coz she is very childish prob but reader loves him like a brother. One day some accident is about to happen and reader throws her before Jensen and saves him. She gets injured and then Jensen learns her mistake and they make up and go out for a movie and dinner and stuff? Like reader gets a little drunk at dinner and Jensen takes care of her the whole time even if Jared offered? TY!

A/N: Hope you enjoy this one! As always feedback is gold! Please don’t copy my stuff!! All mistakes are mine!! If you want to be added to my tag list let me know!!

Word Count: 2014

Pairing: Jensen x Reader, Jared x Reader

Warnings: Launguage, underage drinking, Jensen bing mean, that’s about it.

Want more? Check out my masterlist!!

****MASTERLIST****

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Walking from the makeup trailer to the set was always interesting because you never knew what, or who, was going to jump out from behind something with a whipped cream pie, or something that they were going to throw at you. 

Today was no different. 

Jared had promised to pay you back for the one that you’d slapped in his face on the way to his car yesterday, and you knew your hay day was coming. 

You’d been working on the set of Supernatural as Sarah, Garth’s little sister that had taken up hunting with the Winchesters. It was your first acting gig, and you couldn’t have been more excited. It was hard to get started in the Hollywood period, and most people were successful started as children in some way, shape, or forum. You on the other hand, didn’t get started until you turned 18. Which made your break on Supernatural a blessing. Most people wouldn’t take a chance on an 18 year old with no experience, but they had, and you loved every minute of it. 

You had gotten really close to Jared very quickly because of your shared childish behavior when it comes to pulling a good prank on people, and you loved Jensen like a brother, even though he seemed annoyed with you most of the time. You learned quickly that he could be pretty grumpy and to not push his buttons. Jared had even warned you not to pull any pranks on him.

You took his word for it, and left Jensen alone most of the time. Though he still seemed to keep up his grumpy persona, no matter what you tried to do. 

Speaking of said grumpy pants, here he comes now. Walking toward you with a sour look on his face as usual. Why did he not like you? You loved him to death. He was like the big brother you never had, and you had more than a little crush on the older actor, though you’d never admit it.

“Hey, they’ve pushed filming this scene back about thirty minutes because they’re having trouble with the lighting on set, so we’ve got to wait to go in there.” Jensen said, looking more than a little annoyed that filming was going to be behind schedule again today. Yesterday they had problems on the same set, and here you go again; more problems. 

You were about to answer him when you heard Misha yell from somewhere behind you. 

“Y/N DUCK!!” 

That’s just what you did, you didn’t even hesitate, you just hit the ground like shots where being fired. About the time you hit the ground Jared threw a whipped cream pie at the back of your head, which was now all over Jensen. Because you had ducked, he caught it right in the face. 

You looked up at Jensen from the ground. His face was livid! 

Reaching up with one hand Jensen wiped most the cream off of his face, slinging it to the ground next to him.

“You know Y/N, I hope you grow up a hell of a lot before you try and actually get a professional role somewhere that’s not a sitcom.” 

With that he turned on his heels, and stalked off towards his trailer to try and clean off some of the damage. Jared and Misha were rolling, but you on the other hand, you didn’t think that one was so funny. 

That one stung. It stung a lot. You knew you could act a little childish maybe, but you were just having fun, and you didn’t like the fact that it made Jensen think so little of you that he would say something like that. 

You picked yourself up off the ground, and make your way over to the waiting area they had set up for the rest of your crew members, your eyes stinging as you tired to hold back the tears that threatened to fall.

Thirty minutes later Jensen stood before you completely cleaned up, and in full “Dean mode.” 

They had “fixed” the lighting issue by basically tying up the lights on a big metal pool. It wasn’t really a fix, but it was hopeful that it would be enough to get this one shot done between Dean and Sarah. That’s what mattered today, so that was everyone’s main focus. 

You kept watching it though, because you couldn’t tell if it was your eyes playing tricks on you, or if it was really moving, but you could have sworn the damn thing kept swaying like it was about to fall, and the biggest problem with that was Jensen was standing right under it, and if it falls it would literally crush his skull.

“Sarah, you can’t keep being so reckless! You can’t keep throwing yourself under the line of fire to save me!” Dean yelled at Sarah. 

Before you could get your lines out it happened. The wires holding up the pool snapped, and you pushed Jensen out of the way as hard as you could shoving him back just before the pool and the lights came crashing down to the ground, throwing glass everywhere, and scratching your hand pretty badly. You didn’t care though, you got him out of the way, that’s all you cared about.

“Y/N! Oh my god are you okay?” Jared yelled from his seat next to the director.

Jared came running onto set, jumping over the mess on the ground with his overly long legs. Jensen stood there in momentary shock before his feet would move, his mouth hanging open as he stared at the pole that had almost crushed him. 

There were people everywhere it felt like all at once. People checking Jensen to make sure the lead actor was unharmed, trying to figure out how it all happened, people rushing to clean up the mess, and usher everyone away from it.

Jensen pushed them off of him, and grabbed your hand that was bleeding. 

“Fuck sweetheart, that could have killed both of us!” Jensen said, checking over the rest of you, he looked mildly panicked, which was odd compared to the annoyed look he usually gave you.

“Well I’m fine, It’s just as scratch. If that thing would have hit you though it would have killed you.” 

“Come on, let’s get you to the medical trailer and see about your hand.” Jensen said, shoving off your comment, more concerned with the fact that you were bleeding than the fact his head almost got knocked in the head by a big ass pole.

The crew decided that close call was enough for today, and after your hand was cleaned, stitched, and wrapped up you were ready to get the hell away from there just like everyone else. Jared had gone with you to the medical trailer, and Jensen refused to leave your side either, holding our hand the whole time they put in the three little stitches. 

He was now following you to your car, carrying your gym bag for you, refusing to let you walk alone, and trying to talk you into letting him drive you home.

“Come on Y/N, it’s gonna be hard to drive with your hand wrapped up like that. Let me drive you home, and Clif and Jared can follow me in Clif’s SUV to bring me home once I make sure you get there safely.”

“I’m fine Jensen, really I am, I only live five miles from here, I think I can manage. Go home, you’ve had a long day too. I accidently got you pied in the face, and you almost died a little bit ago.”

Ignoring his third try at getting you to ride home with him, you get into your car, atching him sit your bag into the back seat.

Jensen raised his hand stopping you from talking. 

“About that, Y/N, I’m sorry, but I’ve been a total and complete ass. You’re not childish, I’m just a grumpy old man who needs to learn how to take a damn joke. I’m sorry I’ve been so mean to you; you didn’t deserve it. Let me take you out to dinner and a movie to make it up to you. Just as friends, me and you. What do you say?”

You couldn’t deny your heart skipped a beat when he asked you out to dinner and a movie. You loved Jensen like a brother, but you weren’t blind either. The man was insanely attractive. 

“You don’t have to do that Jensen, really,” you say to him, not sure why you were trying to get out of a date with Jensen, even if it was just as friends. Were you stupid or something? Maybe you got hit in the head and didn’t know it?

“I want to, please,” he said, giving you puppy dog eyes that would have made Sam Winchester jealous and you just couldn’t say no.

“Fine, okay, I’ll go with you,” you tell him. 

“Good, It’s a date then, I’ll be around tomorrow night to pick you about 6,” he said before strutting off toward the Clif’s SUV, satisfied that he’d talked you into going out with him. 

You on the other hand couldn’t stop shaking your head and grinning like an idiot.

———————————————————————————————–

6 PM rolled around quicker than you expected and you found yourself pacing your apartment waiting on Jensen to show up and half expecting that he would just stand you up. You never were really his favorite person, and you were sure he had a lot better things to do than take you out for dinner and a movie, but here you were, waiting anyway. 

True to his word Jensen showed up at 6 pm exactly, and you were off to the movies. After watching Harley Quinn: Birds of Prey he took you to a little italian restaurant that wasn’t far from the cinema, ordering you both a glass of wine, even though really you were too young to drink.

His exact words were though, “I did a lot worse at 18 than have a few glasses of wine, and it’s not like you are driving yourself home anyways.”

The conversation flowed easier between you than you would have expected. 

You talked about everything and anything. Jensen growing up in Texas, family stuff, sibling issues, what movies and stuff you liked, what you wanted to do with your career. 

Before long you started to feel the effects of the wine. Not having remembered that you had taken something for the pain in your hand before leaving for your date, the wine was having a greater effect on you than it normally would have, and before long you were slurring your words and flirting with Jensen. 

“You know your pretty right? You have a pretty face,” you tell him with a giggle and he smiles at you.

“Sweetheart, you know I’m old enough to be your dad, and I think you’ve had enough to drink,” he said, taking your wine glass gently from your good hand.

You laugh at him, and the fact that he seemed more amused than he wanted to let on.

“Okay, maybe I’m a little drunk, because I forgot I had taken something for pain before you came and got me tonight, so yea... My bad... But you still have a pretty face, and I don’t care that your old enough to be my dad, I’ll just call you daddy then. I’m legal damn it!” 

Jensen laughed loudly at you, throwing his head back in one of those beautiful whole body laughs that you loved so much. 

“Come on, let’s get you home so you can sleep it off before you start throwing up or pass out on me.” 

With that Jensen loaded you up in his car, and you were out before you even made it back home. 

Jensen carried you into your apartment, and laid you down in your bed before getting a glass of water and putting it by your bed, along with a trash can and some tylenol for in the morning, because he knew from experience that wine hangovers came with pretty bad headaches. 

Just as he was making himself comfortable on the couch for the night his phone went off in his pocket. Pulling it out he saw it was Jared, checking on how the date was going. 

Jensen briefly gave him a summary of how your date went, and also your current state. 

Jared offered to come and help him with you, but he didn’t want help, he wanted to take care of you himself. 

Even though he didn’t want to admit it, he cared about you, deeper than he probably should have, and if he was lucky; this could be the start of something special, even if you didn’t know it yet..

Here he was thinking you were too childish... Looks like the joke was on him. He was the one being childish, running from his feelings….

————————————————————————————————-

Tag List:

@deanwanddamons​​ @imabitch4jensen​​ @rvgrsbrns​​ @bi-danvers0​​ @onethirstyunicorn​​ @i-love-superhero​​ @akshi8278​

[waynes-multiverse]

Plastic Hearts – Part 2

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, strong language, drug use, smoking, sexism, humiliation

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: I can’t tell you how much I love this Dean, even though he’s a mess 😂🖤 Also, friendly reminder: Discussions are always welcome, but I don’t give a shit if you like a plotline or not 😝 The option to silently scroll past is always there if it’s not for you. If you do have something valuable to add, you’re free to do so, but please remember to stay kind & respectful. Think before you type. I’m putting a lot of hours into providing free entertainment, so some form of gratitude is always appreciated! What I certainly don’t need is whining & complaining, so please read the warnings carefully. Hope everyone is clear on that! 😉

<< 1 || Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

2. Livin’ On A Prayer

It’s a new day.

It’s a new audition.

It’s a new fucking chance.

Los Angeles is bright sunshine and clear blue skies like usual today, the dark shades bouncing on her nose as she parks her rusty, pale yellow Golf Cabrio. Watts isn’t the best or the safest neighborhood, however, making her doubt the success of this production slightly. On her way here, she even passed a car on fire on the side of the road. On top of that, the building in front of her looks like an abandoned slaughterhouse, all sorts of trash, old furniture, and empty shopping carts littering the parking lot.  

Nonetheless, it’s still a chance. Y/N tries to stay positive. What else can she do, right?

As she saunters across the lot, she almost gets run over and jolts back when a sparkling black Impala cuts into the parking lot and comes to a sharp halt. With her lifelong bad luck, it’s not unlikely she would fall victim to a fatal crash on top of everything else.

Positive thoughts, she reminds herself. At least she wouldn’t have to pay her bills then.

As the driver exits, her jaw drops a few good feet, barely missing the dirty asphalt underneath her white sneakers. The guy is a bit older than her, maybe in his late thirties, and while he looks severely hungover, he surely is one handsome example of a human. His sandy blond and disheveled hair is falling into his face, his cheeks adorned by a scruffy beard that looks a week old. She can see the muscles stretch under his black t-shirt as he lights a cigarette and grudgingly drags his boots towards the building, tight blue jeans framing two perky asscheeks. Leaning coolly against the brick wall next to the big metal door, he finishes his smoke with a grim look.

Her eyes spot a sign on said entrance, reading ‘Girls’ next to an arrow that points inside the building. Warily, she approaches it. Josie promised her this wasn’t porn, although Y/N is at that point of desperation where she would seriously consider it. Just thinking about her empty as fuck bank account makes her want to tear her clothes off.

The guy seems to notice her hesitation as he takes off his sunglasses, greeting her with two stunningly green eyes. “You’re here for the audition?”

“Uh… yeah?” she replies rather unsurely, lifting a brow.

He flicks his cigarette away and stomps it with his boot on the hot asphalt, even though the ashtray is right next to him. Pushing in front of her a little, her nose catches a whiff of booze, cold cigarette smoke, and aftershave as he grabs the door handle and pulls it open for her. “It’s in there,” he gruffly nods inside.

Her eyes flicker between him and the crack of the door that shows nothing but darkness as she carefully weighs her options, trying to ignore her gut feeling and the worries in her mind. The guy could easily pass as a sleazy porn actor, and the location seems more than a little shady. Y/N doesn’t know much, but she knows she doesn’t want to become one of those Hollywood stories.

“This isn’t porn, right?”

His brow furrows wildly, almost offended by her question. “What?! No!” He sighs deeply and pushes the door open wider, shooing her inside and gesturing to the far end of the room. “Just sit over there with the others. I’ll be right with you.”

When the door falls shut behind her, she surprisingly finds herself in a rundown gym. Old sports equipment and dirty mats are scattered around the giant hall before her eyes land on a big boxing ring in the middle. Shouldering past her, she watches the guy disappear up the metal stairs that lead to a small viewing room on a platform overlooking the whole gymnasium.

Next to the boxing ring, she spots some old wooden bleachers, the sturdy material already chipped at the edges. A few other women of various shapes, looks, and ages have already gathered as well and found a seat, so Y/N joins them, praying this audition won’t be yet another failure.

Jesus fucking Christ, Dean can’t believe he agreed to this fucking shit show.

As he nervously peeks down through the little office window, he can see more women have already arrived for the audition, the bleachers slowly filling as he anxiously runs a hand through his locks.

Hurriedly, he assembles a white line on a mirror with his credit card and snorts it through a rolled-up dollar bill. It helps with the hangover and with whatever the fuck he’s doing here today. But a deal is a deal. Cas agreed that if he shoots this silly little show for him, the rich-boy producer would finance his next movie.

At this point in his career, this is as good as it fucking gets.

With slightly more energy and a dreadful sigh that he feels deep in his bones, Dean leaves the stuffed office and joins the chaotic crowd. The chatter quiets as soon as the women spot him when he coolly leans against the edge of the boxing ring and faces them.

“Okay, I said I’d do anything, so here we fucking are,” Dean mutters bitterly and claps his palms together once, his eyes scanning the group of women before he puts on a smile and pulls himself together. “Hi ladies, my name is Dean Winchester, and I’m the director. Today we’re just gonna do first looks and first cuts, mm-kay?”

Seeing several hands jolt up with questions, he sighs and shakes his head as vivid chatter erupts. With an obnoxiously loud clear of his throat, he draws their attention back to him. “Okay, this is how this is gonna go. No more talking. You’re just gonna sit there and look at me and smile,” he tells them, his voice booming with authority as he waits for the storm to calm.

“How about you tell us what the fuck we’re all doing here?”

His head snaps to the familiar voice, a broad smile forming on his plump lips as he recognizes an old friend. “Hi, Billie.”

“Hey, baby,” she smiles cheekily.

“How are you doing, sweetheart?” He’s worked with Billie and her husband on a few of his movies back in the day but hasn’t seen her in a couple of years. In his opinion, though, she’s one of the best stunt doubles in Hollywood. He considers himself lucky she showed up. God knows he needs all the fucking help he can get.

“Good,” she replies, smiling before arching her eyebrow at him. “Is this another one of your trashy vampire movies?”

“What?” His eyebrows quirk tightly together in defense and confusion. What does she fucking mean by trashy? His movies are fucking genius art pieces. They’re not some mainstream bullshit. They’re underground, okay?!

“No, this is not a fucking movie,” Dean grumbles with a shake of his head and then enthusiastically announces to the group, “This is GLOW.”

Unsurprisingly, it’s not getting the reaction he’s hoped for.

The cute porn girl he met earlier at the entrance then raises her hand and asks, “Sorry, what’s… GLOW?”

“Gorgeous ladies of wrestling,” he replies with a sly grin and crosses his arms over his chest but is only met with more bemused expressions, so he explains further, “It’s a wrestling show. Just like the big guys, but with girls. Lady wrestling. Get it? Girl on girl.”

Yeah, fucking Cas…

Another hand raises in the air. This time, it’s a blonde woman in her thirties who could lose a few pounds. Her face is pretty, though. “Like, Hulk Hogan?”

“Sweetheart, if one of you turns out to be Hulk Hogan, then I’ve hit the fucking jackpot,” he chuckles in amusement because when he looks at the diverse group of women in front of him, he highly doubts any of them can do a single move.

More hands raise. Dean sighs again and runs a hand over his freckled face.

“Alright, take it easy. Here’s what’s happening,” he starts and pushes himself off the boxing ring as he swoops into director mode. Might as well do his job, right? “Yes, this is a wrestling show. And yes, you girls will have to actually wrestle. That means body slams, hair pulls, tit grabs, cunt punches, one of those moves where it looks like two cats are clawing each other, but better… and hotter. Did I mention cunt punches?”

“Yes,” the group replies languidly in unison.

He nods, somewhat satisfied. “Okay, so, if any of you have a problem with that, there’s the fucking door.”

There’s a beat of silence before the first women shuffle in their seats and begin to move, passing him on their way out of the dirty gym. Soon enough, only about half of the initial forty remain. Billie and the curvy blonde stay as well, and surprisingly, porn girl is still here, too.

Dean really thought she would leave once she’d heard his pitch. She seems like one of those real actor types who take their craft seriously and go all method, you know? He’s met a few of those over the years that he’s spent here in La-La Land – the plain, good girl from Mid-Shit-West who wants to make it big till fucking Hollywood crushes her under its filthy boot. So, maybe it’s not so surprising after all that she has decided to stay.

In all honesty, this little shit show is every loser’s last option before porn, including his.

“Alright, pretty painless first cut, huh?” Dean smiles in painful irony at the rest of the group, who are still sitting. “Okay, so, next step: I’m gonna sit over there-,” he thumbs behind his shoulder to the bleachers on the other side of the ring and then puts a cigarette between his lips as he continues, “-and you’re gonna line up and show me your headshots.” He pauses and then awkwardly clears his throat for the next part, “And for those remaining, I also need you to sign a waiver in case of serious injury… and/or death.” Lighting his smoke, he turns his back on the girls.

Yeah, this is going to be a fucking disaster.

Dean tries to remain awake and somewhat interested as the women show him their résumés.

Well, if you can call it that.

Most girls don’t even have a proper headshot, let alone actual acting experience. He also received one family photo and several polaroids. One weird girl with a fur coat even threw a crumpled-up picture of a wolf at his feet. Oddly enough, she was the most interesting of the pack so far. There’s also a feisty blonde girl who downright looks like fucking jailbait. He still let her stay because she said she loved his movies, even though he knows that girl is for sure as hell not fucking eighteen.

He’s fucking weak, okay?

And then comes porn girl. She hands him an actual black-and-white headshot with her previous jobs listed on the backside. Of course, she does.

“Porn girl,” he smirks broadly as a greeting before skimming through her résumé.

“Please don’t call me that.”

“Huh. Strindberg. Who the fuck is that?” he jokingly taunts and cuts her off when he sees her mouth open, ready to provide an answer. Nerd. “I’m kidding. I know who that is,” he grunts with a small eye roll. “So, what? You’re like a real actress?”

She smiles, and it’s actually nice to look at. It’s cute. Innocent. “Yeah, I’ve done some theater in Omaha. I also did a few scene study classes, uhm, a masking and clowning workshop… Uh, a couple of years ago, I did a movie with Warren Beatty. I had a non-speaking role… Speaking of speaking, how much real acting will there be on this show?”

Oh boy…

“Real acting as opposed to…?”

“Hair pulling.”

“Ah.” Dean figured as much. “You don’t like wrestling, Strindberg?”

She furrows her brow in confusion at her nickname. “Strindberg?”

“Want me to call you porn girl again?”

With pursed lips, she softly shakes her head and defeatedly sighs, “No, Strindberg is fine.”

“You don’t think wrestling is real acting?” Dean knows it’s not, but teasing her is the most entertaining thing he’s done all day, aside from that line of coke.

Her eyebrows draw together and meet in the middle. “It’s not, right? It’s like a sport… with costumes.”

With an exhaustive sigh and an examining tilt of his head, he casually leans back on the bleachers as his juniper eyes scan her figure anew. “Do people think you’re hot?”

“Uhm… I’m sorry, what?” Baffled, she cocks her head at him, the little crinkle of her nose a mix of horror and disgust.

“Because one minute I think, ‘Hell yeah, she’s hot. I’d fuck her.’ And the next, I’m like, ‘I don’t know. Would I?’ You just have one of those faces, I guess. It switches,” he tells her in his most serious tone. Strindberg’s facial expression, on the other hand, is glorious as he bites back the chuckle.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means I don’t know about you yet,” he clarifies and squints his eyes at her headshot once more. “Y/N… Y/N… Y/N,” he pronounces her name in different tones just to annoy her, lets it irritatingly roll off his tongue, his face contorting as he carelessly tosses her headshot to the pile of others and huffs, “Not a great name.”

“Wha–”

“Come back tomorrow. Wear something you can move in. We’re gonna do boot camp,” Dean grins smugly and watches as a little smile shapes on her pink lips as well.

“Thanks. You won’t regret it,” she gives him a determined nod.

“Oh, I’m sure I will,” he sighs under his breath and tiredly rubs his eyes.

Another day in fucking paradise.

Dean’s only slept mildly better this night than the previous one, a toxic mix of booze and coke messing with his sleep pattern. But who the fuck cares if he’s well-rested for this bullshit?

Exactly. No one.

As the pack of about twenty women gathers around him, he clears his throat and begins his speech, “Morning, ladies. Today I’ll be casting a squad of twelve women to play wrestlers based on two things. One, can you follow basic directions? And two, do I like your face, or do I not like your face? If I call your number and say ‘thank you,’ you’re cut. Dry your tears and leave the ring quietly. Everyone clear?”

“Yes,” the girls sigh in dreadful unison.

Dean’s eyes then wander to the hunk on his left, who’s about a good foot taller than him and twice as broad. “This hulking specimen over there is Freeman. He’s a pro wrestler turned coach. He’s gonna show you a couple of moves today,” he introduces the trainer. Thank God at least one professional is involved in this production, excluding him. Duh. “Okay, let’s get started with forward rolls. You know, the ones pre-schoolers do.”

Dean figures it’s best to start soft on them. These girls don’t exactly look like top-notch athletes.

He then endures a whole round of women climbing clumsily into the ring and doing forward rolls. It’s a disaster and fucking boring. Honestly, he’s sure that if he hired actual kindergartners, they’d do a better job at it than these women, but alas, they’re here, and the kindergartners are not.

“Number 12!” Dean calls out next and narrows his eyes at the girl. “Eh, you look like my second ex-wife. Sorry, but no thank you.”

After the ex-lookalike leaves the ring dejectedly, the last woman in line then finally enters – porn girl.

“Strindberg,” he grins as she climbs into the ring. She then displays a soft forward roll. Again – kindergartners do that shit better. As she jumps back onto her feet, she flashes him a bright smile. He sighs deeply and grunts, “Fine.”

For five hours, Dean lets the girls run around the ring and present their non-existent skills. He cuts a few more who couldn’t even do the most basic stuff and the ones that wouldn’t read well on a TV screen. It’s so fucking boring; he already took two coke breaks in his office.

The last exercise of the day is a pair-up, where the girls are supposed to show him a hair pull and flip their opponent onto their back. Simple enough, right?  

Well, that’s what he thinks until porn girl and her partner come along. She’s picked the curvy blonde, which is a smart move on her part. Porn girl does have the better figure. So much so, in fact, that she could do actual porn, but Dean knows Strindberg would never.

Just as the blonde attempts to grab Y/N’s hair, she moves away, dramatically crying out, “Please! I beg you! Have mercy! I’m not your enemy.”

Jesus fucking Christ…

“What the fuck are you two doing?” Dean interrupts their overtly theatrical performance.

Strindberg steps forward with an innocent smile, “Oh, we’re just motivating our actions with a little backstory.”

“Oh no, you’re not,” he sneers in a mocking tone and watches her face fall. “Fucking actresses… Thank you.”

Strindberg flails her little arms in upset. “What, why?!”

“Because you can’t follow basic directions. You’re both cut,” he replies rather disinterestedly.

“Well, there are no scenes to read, no character work… So, yes, we improvised,” she explains with a helpless shrug.  

Taking a deep breath, Dean runs a hand over his face and scratches his beard. “Alright, since I’m feeling generous today – Sophie’s Choice. Tell me why I should pick one and not the other. Tear each other apart, limb from limb. Go.” He lights another cigarette and leans back on the bleachers with a wide smirk.

Yeah, he can be a sadistic asshole sometimes, but hey-ho, at least it’s not fucking boring anymore.

Porn girl eyes the curvy blonde for a moment, shooting her a sympathetic look. The sympathy doesn’t last long, though, when the claws finally come out. Strindberg’s a fighter – he can tell. She’s one of those people that never give up, no matter how many times the world puts them down.

As expected, Strindberg then speaks up first, “I’m a real actress, and I can make you believe anything you want, even if it’s something silly like hair pulling. I work hard, and I will do anything to get this job... And I’m also younger than her.”

“Good pitch. Honest,” he nods approvingly and then motions to the blonde. “What about you, sweetheart?”

“I’m Donna Hanscum, and my father is Burt Hanscum,” she says shyly like it’s supposed to mean something.

“Holy shit! Burt Hanscum?!” The trainer suddenly jumps up, eyes wide.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa… slow down. Explain. Who is that?” Dean questions in confusion as he looks between the two.

“Burt ‘The Giant’ Hanscum. He’s a legend in the ring, man,” Freeman tells him excitedly and then shakes the blonde’s hand like a true fanboy. “It’s an honor to meet you.”

Dean whistles lowly and can see Strindberg looks unamused by the news. “Hard sell,” he bobs his head and musingly clicks his tongue. “But I’m gonna go with the legacy on this one. Sorry, Strindberg.”

“Why? Because my dad is a pastor in Nebraska, and hers is some famous… giant?!”

Dear fucking God, she’s desperate. Dean can practically smell it on her. It also makes complete sense that she’s a pastor’s daughter. And fuck, he’s about to get goddamn hard. Oh, don’t judge him from your mighty pedestal. Sometimes he confuses porn with reality, okay? It happens…

“Maybe,” he shrugs simply and decides to crush her under his boot before the rest of Hollywood does it to her. It’s probably time to pack up and go back to Omaha. “Or maybe it’s because I don’t like your face… or your ass... or your tits. Or maybe I like them all a little too much... I don’t know. I don’t really have to explain myself to you. That’s the fucking beauty of being the director, sweetheart. You’re out, Strindberg. Maybe give porn a shot, hm?”

Maybe it’s cruel. Maybe it’s exactly what she needs to hear. All he knows, though, is that she looks fucking defeated when he catches her teary-eyed gaze. One look tells him that she feels fucking powerless right now, and he actually feels a little sorry for her.

She quietly exits the ring, shoulders still straight and high as she walks out of the gym, the metal door slamming shut behind her.

Usually, his sadistic side always enjoys it immensely when he gets to crush someone’s dreams, but this time though, it admittedly hurts him a bit.

3. Separate Ways

I love that asshole way too much 😭🖤 Hope you enjoyed it, loves! The first batch is definitely rough, but we’ll get through it together 😘

Plastic Hearts Series: @spnexploration​ @jessjad​ @siospins2​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​ @akshi8278​ @xlynnbbyx​ @wayward-dreamer​ @foxyjwls007​ @smellingofpoetry​ @justrealizedimmascifygurl​ @ladysparkles78​ @leigh70​ @4getfulimaginator2022​ @globetrotter28​ @b3autyfuldisast3r​

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

Heathers | Sweet Pea

A/N: As I said, I was rewriting Riverdale’s Heathers episode with focus on Sweet Pea and Reader as JD and Veronica Sawyer, and the rehearsals for the musical rather than everything around it (and if it’s the drama around it, it’s drama between Sweet Pea and Y/N).  We’ve been robbed of the masterpiece that is Sweet Pea singing Meant To Be Yours. I mean??? That song is amazing in both the off-Broadway and the West End prodcution and Sweet Pea would’ve looked SO HOT singing it and going all completely mental!  I did add some characters as friends of Y/N that are part of the musical too since I wanted an appropriate character to play Martha other than Toni (????) who really does not fit the role of Martha Dunnstock.  So, I think it’s going to be a six parter and I’ll try to upload one every night at 7pm. (can’t promise anything though)  Lemme know if I need to make a taglist and who to put on it! :)  Enjoy, kiddos! 

Words: 1711

Pairing: Sweet Pea x Y/N

Warnings: cursing, angst

Act one: Freeze Your Brain 

Every year we do a different musical at Riverdale High. Last year, we did Carrie, but this year, we’re doing my favorite musical ever: Heathers. If Cheryl Blossom hadn’t claimed the role of Heather Chandler, I would’ve auditioned for it. Mainly so I could yell ‘Shut up, Heather!’ at pretty much any given moment. But I did get the role of Veronica Sawyer which is kind of a more important role than Heather Chandler. I mean, Heather does die quite early on. “I’ve asked Evelyn to step up as co-director,” Kevin Keller, who always directs the musicals, says at our first day of rehearsals. I liked him as director in last year’s play and I think he and Evelyn will be a good team on this year’s musical too. However, Betty Cooper does not agree with that. “Why don’t we introduce ourselves and the parts we’re playing to get Evelyn up to speed with everything?” Cheryl gets up from her chair, clearly wanting to be the first one to go. “I’m Cheryl Blossom and I’m obviously playing Heather Chandler.” I roll my eyes at her. Being ‘theater-nerd’ means not getting along with the popular kids such as Cheryl Blossom and Betty Cooper. It’s not that I hate them, I just don’t want to be friends with them. I mean, it wouldn’t click between us anyway since all I ever do – according to most jocks – is talk and think and dream of musicals. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think they’re assuming I always sing when I speak. Misconceptions about theater kids. “I’m Veronica Lodge, and I play Heather McNamara,” the rich girl with the raven-hair introduces herself. To be honest, Veronica did play Chris in last year’s play and she was honestly amazing. Her voice is to die for. I would ask her to join the drama club, but I’m too scared to. “Betty Cooper, I’m playing the third Heather; Heather Duke.” Then Reggie Mantle clears his throat, clearly wanting to go next, “Reggie, AKA jock Ram Sweeney. Going to bro it up with my bud Arch here. Just two single straight dudes doing some theater.” Once again I have to roll my eyes back at the annoying toxic masculinity-filled jock behind me. “And I play Kurt Kelly,” Archie then says with a small smile. He seems to be annoyed by the antics of his bro. I chuckle at the two boys, earning a glare from them. “You do know Kurt Kelly and Ram Sweeney are actually fake outed as gay by JD and Veronica, right?” I ask them with an amused smile on my face before turning back to Kevin and Evelyn. “I’m Y/N, and I play the ever so lovely Veronica Sawyer. Outcast, turned Heather, then blowing up my boyfriend.” Margot and Ella, my two best friends from drama club give me a sly grin. They both have the same idea as me; neither one of these guys knows the script yet. “Hi, I’m Sweet Pea,” a guy behind me then says. He’s one of the only Serpents with a vital part in the musical. The other Serpents are part of the ensemble, which is also important. But Sweet Pea’s role is one of the biggest, along with mine. “I play Jason Dean, or JD. Veronica’s bad-boy love interest who apparently blows up?” I turn to look at him and give him a nod that tells him he should believe me when I say Jason Dean gets blown up in the end. My eyes glance down to his neck where his Serpent tattoo prominently decorates his skin. I don’t mind the Serpents as much as the other Northsiders did. I didn’t mind when they transferred to our school whilst others picked on them and nearly got them suspended. I don’t hate them but I’m not friends with them either. I just don’t care. I mind my own business, which is theater most of the time. “I’m Jodie Smiths,” the girl next to Margot says. Jodie is also part of the drama club, but we’re not really great friends. I mean, we tolerate each other, and we do what we’re told when we have to do a scene together. But it’s not like I would invite her for a milkshake at Pop’s after rehearsals. Not like I do with Margot and Ella. “I’m portraying Martha Dunnstock in Heathers.” “Fangs,” another one of the Serpents raising his hand as he speaks up, “Hipster dork.” “Toni,” the girl Serpent then speaks up, “New wave girl.” “I’m Josie,” another Northsider girl goes, “And I’m the republican girl.” “Hi, my name’s Margot and I play the role of Stoner chick.” “And I’m Ella, playing the role of preppy kid.” I give my two best friends a wide smile. I’m proud of both of them for making it into the cast even though most of the popular kids claimed the other roles. A few other Serpents and Northsiders tell Evelyn – and the rest of us – what their role in the ensemble is, but I don’t even listen anymore. I’m too filled up with excitement to get started on my favorite musical ever. And then nerves start kicking in when I think of all the scenes I’ll have to do with Cheryl Blossom, Betty Cooper and Veronica Lodge, but mostly the ones with Sweet Pea. I have to make out with Sweet Pea. On stage. “Okay, let’s get started on vocal warm-ups and we’ll sing a few songs from the script to get us started,” Kevin suggests as he claps his hands. “Y/N, Margot, Ella and Jodie, why don’t you guide us through vocal warm-ups?” The four of us nod and get up off our chair, urging the others to do the same. We then teach them the sounds we always make during drama class to warm up. “Good!” Kevin then exclaims when we tell him they’re ready. “Let’s start with Beautiful then. Veronica Sawyer, take it away.” I nod and head up the stage, along with the rest. We don’t know any choreography yet, but it’ll be better if we’re up there to sing the songs. “September 1st, 1989. Dear Diary: I believe I'm a good person. You know, I think that there's good in everyone, but—here we are! First day of senior year! And uh... I look around at these kids that I've known all my life and I ask myself—what happened?” That’s how Heathers: the musical always starts, and that’s how this adventure starts too. “And you know, you know, you know Life can be beautiful You hope, you dream, you pray And you get your way! Ask me how it feels Lookin' like hell on wheels... My God, it's beautiful! I might be beautiful... And when you're beautiful... It's a beautiful frickin' day!” I belt out the last note just like Barret Wilbert Weed does on the cast recording of the Broadway show. I feel like Barret Wilbert Weed or any other Broadway actress I’ve looked up to since I was a child. The ensemble belts out their last note too, getting Kevin, Evelyn and Sweet Pea up on their feet and clapping. I’m not entirely sure whether it’s just for me or for the entire cast, but it still gives me a wicked feeling of pride. “Y/N! I was obsessed with everything you put in that performance!” Evelyn exclaims when the clapping had died down. “Damn, girl! I’m so glad we casted you!” I can hear Betty scoff behind me, but I don’t care. All I care about is that they liked what I did with the song. Even though it’s just what I always do in my shower when I sing that song at the top of my lungs. “Yes! And ensemble was good too!” Kevin then adds to give them some compliments too. “Let’s just go in order of songs, so Candy Store next!” he informs, so I get off the stage and grab my water bottle to drink. I just have one line to say, but no singing in this song, sadly enough. I only go back on when Fight For Me is on and stay on for Freeze Your Brain. I hadn’t heard Sweet Pea yet as this song is his first one in the whole show. “I've been through ten high schools They start to get blurry No point planting roots 'Cause you're gone in a hurry My dad keeps two suitcases packed in the den” My eyes widen a little when his voice chimes through the auditorium. He has a nice singing voice. Pleasant to listen to. Very soothing. “Care for a hit?” he asks, spoken this time, but still part of the song. It takes me away from my thoughts about how good his voice is. “Does your mommy know you eat all that crap?” I shoot back, and then he goes back into singing. My breath hitches in my throat when his voice grows louder and the notes get higher, but he hits them perfectly. I figured he could sing a bit since he got cast as JD, but I didn’t expect him to be this good. My knees even buckle a little at the way he sings ‘Veronica Sawyer’. All of a sudden, the boy becomes more attractive to me than he already was. I mean, he’s not bad looking, but the fact that he can hit all of those notes makes him twice as attractive. He makes me jump out of my thoughts when his voice grows softer and more vulnerable. “Just freeze your brain Freeze your brain Go on and freeze your brain...” His eyes meet mine when he goes, “Try it,” in a spoken voice, just like Ryan McCartan who sings it in the off-Broadway version. Then applause bursts from the auditorium, making me jump a little. I had almost forgotten we were still in rehearsals. “Damn, you’re good,” I mumble, and hope he doesn’t hear. But judging from the little smirk that pulls at the corner of his mouth, I think he has. From that moment on, I knew this musical was going to change things in my life. Whether it was making new friends or playing the role of my dreams, it will change everything. 

[poisongirl18]

Worth it

Kylie X Jensen

Thank you to the readers! I appreciate you! I have grown a small following over the past couple of days and I decided to write this one for myself! If you would like to be added to my tag lis or want to request a one-shot yourself just let me know! Thanks!

Worth it

Words: 3524

JensenXPlusSizeReader

 Fluff, slight smut, depressed reader

When Kylie has to film a long awaited intimate scene with close friend Jensen, she goes to extreme lengths to make sure she has the perfect body

 Today was the day that the Supernatural fans have been waiting for, hell it was the day I was waiting for.

The sex scene.

I joined the cast of Supernatural around ten years ago, figuring that I would be killed off in a few short episodes turned into ten years of love and laughter. The fans seemed to like me, and the producers said that I just brought a type of femininity to the show. My character had a certain relationship with the Winchester brothers, but there was always something about her and Dean that had the fans quaking with excitement. The constant questions were when my character and Dean were finally going to be together, and that day was today. I was excited, I mean who wouldn’t be, I got to be with a semi-naked Jensen Ackles who I had grown very fond of over the decade.

Unfortunately, there were not many, but a handful of fans that just did not like my character with Dean. Their claims were that Dean Winchester would never be with a ‘plus-size’ girl. Now, I never considered myself fat by any means, but I was definitely bigger than the girl that Dean or Jensen would go out with. Each criticism over the years was like a slice to my heart and it even pushed me to start numerous diets and even hire a trainer despite Jensen’s many pleas to see how beautiful I was.

I wanted to believe him, I truly did, but I knew what I saw in the mirror every morning and I saw the number on the scale every time I stepped on it.

The producers had come up to me a few months ahead, warning me of the upcoming scene and making sure I was comfortable with. I knew that they cared and knew I had a hard time with my body imagine since starting the show. My chest had begun to hurt when they told me, and the room had begun to spin as my anxiety took over, but I had to say yes. If I had said no there would be girls’ miles long that would say yes, and my career as an actress would come to end. So, I pushed myself harder than I had ever done before and even managed to shed a few pounds, but now that the day has come, I wish I had loss a few more.

“You look nervous.” Jared teased as he had taken a seat next to me on set.

“I think I’m going to die.” I admitted, watching has he bit his lip to try and stop his smile which he failed miserably at.

“You’re not going to die.” He reassured me, putting a hand on my shoulder. “It’s a just a scene.”

“A sex scene.” I let out, a little louder than I wanted. “With Jensen.”

Jared had known of my crush with Jensen, and although he constantly teased me about it, he respected my wishes in keeping it quiet. “You’re going to be fine.” He promised again. “The fans are going to love it, and you are going to be great.”

I watched as the crew scurried around setting up the scene that I was going to perform in. “What if all they see is a fat blob.” I whispered, trying not to tear up and ruin the make up that someone had spent and hour working on. “What if Jensen is just . . . disgusted with me.”

Jared let out a sigh. “Kylie,” He let out softly, “You are not a fat blob and you are not disgusting.” He paused for a moment. “Why don’t you turn down the scene, maybe they can change it and-“

“No.” I let out sternly before glancing at him, his face softening. “If I turn it down then my career is over.”

“No, it’s not.” He rolled his eyes. “We can just talk to-“

“Hey! Are you ready?”

My eyes moved up to a smiling Jensen, who looked way to excited for this scene. I bit my lip and looked at Jared who was shaking his head at me.

“Of course, I am.” I forced a smile. “The question is are you ready?”

Jensen scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Please, everyone has been waiting for this for the past ten years.” He smirked. “You just better watch that you don’t fall in love with me.”

Too late.

I licked my bottom lip and rolled my eyes before standing up, adjusting my black shirt so it was not so tight against my belly. “Please don’t flatter yourself.”

He threw an arm over my shoulder and pulled me close. “You know, we should get some food before the big scene. Make sure we’re well nourished.” He wagged his brows.

“No.” I let out quickly, the last thing I needed was a bloated tummy for our scene which is why I had been fasting all day. Nothing but water for me. “I need to go over lines.” I tried.

Jensen’s green eyes crinkled and looked over me worriedly. “Are you alright?” He asked gently. “I mean, I know this scene is awkward-“

“It’s fine.” I let out and pulled away from him. “Seriously, what does everyone keep asking me?” I shook my head and began walking away from the set, and away from the men that I had grown to love over the years.

“Kylie!” Jensen called but I kept walking.

Everyone was so concerned about me doing the scene, but I don’t think they were concerned for me. I think they were more worried about their fat friend on screen, ruining the eyes of all the fans.

With all the anger that was plummeting through me, I had to stop walking to get the room around me to stop spinning. I sucked in a deep breath and listened as my stomach growled loudly begging for the food that it obviously didn’t need.

“Kylie!” I heard the voice of a familiar crew member call before she was grabbed and my hand and pulled me back towards the set. “We’re ready for you.”

“Already.” I sighed but continued to walk, stepping up on the bunker set and directly in front of Jensen whose eyes continued to look concerned.

“Kylie,” Jensen let out as the crew members continued to run around us, “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I know.” I nodded, standing in my spot in front of Jensen who now wore a flannel on top of his black t-shirt. He was dressed head to toe in Dean Winchester wear, and I was dressed differently for my character. My flannel was replaced with a tight black V-neck shirt with ripped jeans and her classic black heeled boots.

“You’re going to be great.” He smiled, putting a hand on my arm making me swoon.

“I hope so.” I forced just as I heard the director quiet the set.

Action!

“You can’t- you can’t do this to me Dean.” I shook my head, my eyes tearing up slightly not only for the scene but because of the emotions I was feeling.

“Why not?” Dean let out angrily. “Don’t you understand! Anyone I get close to dies!” He shook his head. “And I just . . . I can’t lose you.”

I cupped Jensen’s cheek, taking the moment to trail my thumb over the stubble. “Listen to me Winchester, I am not going anywhere.”

Jensen’s eyes teared up slightly as he looked over me before he took the opportunity to lean down and kiss me.

My heart pounded in my chest as Jensen’s lips met mine, it was all that I expected it to be and more. He was soft, but needy. His hands went directly to my hips as I backed up into the table, letting him pick me up behind me thighs to place me on it.

I was surprised that he could lift me, but that thought was long gone when he pulled the flannel from his body followed by the black t-shirt. I couldn’t help but run my hands along his chest, hoping that it fit well with the scene.

Jensen reached for the ends of my black shirt, looking at me, not my character but me, for permission. I forced a smile and nodded. He pulled the shirt from my body before taking a step back to admire me. Immediately I felt self-conscious especially as the camera zoomed in around me.

He bit his lip, and I worried that he was going to be disgusted, but then he muttered a word that wasn’t in the script that I had read over a thousand times. “Beautiful.” He leaned in, pressing his lips to mine in a heated kiss. I cupped his cheeks and wrapped my legs around his waist pulling him towards me as his hands roamed my body.

I let out a slight breath around his lips as he used the opportunity to slide his tongue in, surprising me. He let out a growl as he laid me back against the table, climbing on top of it to mount me. His hand immediately went to the straps of my bra where he pulled them down revealing my shoulders.

I let out an accidental moan and clawed at his back, feeling the muscles tense behind me as he pushed his cloth covered groin into mine. For a moment, I could almost feel a hardening sensation underneath his jeans.

“And cut!”

Jensen continued to kiss me, deepening the kiss and exploring my mouth with his tongue as his hands continued to slide down the curves of my body.

“Cut!” I heard again in a slight concern voice, opening my eyes before pressing on Jensen’s chest. He pulled away ever so slightly, looking down at me with shock and concern.

“Jensen?” I let out, licking my swollen lip.

“I-I’m sorry.” He let out, immediately getting off me. “I didn’t mean to.”

I felt the heat rush to my cheeks as I hopped off the table, my hands immediately going to my body covering myself from the world. “Don’t apologize for being in the scene.”

“No, it wasn’t that.” He said, bending down to grab his flannel, handing it to me.

I quickly put it on and swayed slightly as the set swirled around me, my vision becoming slightly blurry.

“You guys did great!” I heard Jared’s voice, and suddenly he was in front of me.

How did he move that fast?

“Uh, yeah.” I let out, rubbing the back of my neck.

“You good?” Jared asked as he placed a hand on my shoulder.

I felt my eyes become heavy and my body become weak. “Yeah, I just need-“

“Woah Kylie!” I heard the panic in Jared’s voice as I dropped to the ground, my body becoming too weak to stand up anymore.

“Ky? Ky?” Jensen called as I felt his calloused hands touching my face.

“Can we get a medic over here?” Jared called as I opened my eyes, seeing my co-stars faces full of concern.

“No, no, I’m okay.” I tried to sit up, but Jensen held me where I was.

“Just lay back and relax, okay?” He nodded, running his fingers through my curls. “We need to get you checked out.”

I felt hot tears of embarrassment fill my eyes as crew members surrounded me, making sure I was okay. I tried to reassure everyone I was okay but could not seem to get the words out as the medic came and looked me over.

“Your blood pressures low.” The medic commented as he took the cuff off from around my arm. “Have you eaten at all today?”

I looked around the group of people who were around me, all of which I considered my family and friends who I knew were all going to be ashamed of me. “No.” I let out quietly.

I listened as Jensen sighed with frustration. “I’ll get her something to eat.” He said simply.

“Let’s get her to her trailer.” Jared offered as he helped me stand.

Jensen shook his head when I got to my feet and took ahold of me. “I got it.” He let out quietly. “Kylie and I have to talk.”

I gulped audibly as he helped walk me through the crowd of people who were all staring sadly at me. He continued to stay silent and hold onto me as we made it outside, but instead of going to my trailer we went to his.

He set me down on his soft leather couch as he went to shut and lock his trailer door, pausing and letting out a breath.

I squeezed the pale leather beneath my hands nervously, not knowing what Jensen was going to say or do. “Je-“

He shook his head, silencing me as he moved to stand in front of me, his hands on his hips as he stared down at me. “You did it because of this scene.” He said not as a question. “How many times have I told you that you didn’t have to do the diets or the hour-long trips to the gym? That you’re perfect the way that you are.” He shook his head. “And now this? Jesus Kylie.”

“I know, I know.” I sighed, running my fingers through my hair. “But this was different, this was a scene where people were going to see me without my clothes.”

“I don’t care!” He raised his voice, shutting me up.

I shifted in my seat and looked down at my feet as he let out sigh.

“I don’t care.” He let out softly this time. “I care that your healthy, and this, this is not healthy.” He sat down next to me and grabbed my hands.

The tears began to flow from my eyes as I broke down in sobs. “I just want to be beautiful.”

“Oh Kylie.” He let out before pulling me to his chest, running his fingers through my hair. “You are beautiful. You are so damn beautiful that I can’t even stand it sometimes.” He tilted my chin up so that my red eyes were looking at him.

“I’m not . . . I’m just not.” I admitted as he smiled sadly at me.

“Kylie, do you know the first time that I saw you, you took my breath away.” He let out as he cupped my cheek, wiping the tears away. “Do you know that I was so scared to talk to you when I first saw you?”

“You don’t have to lie.” I let out, trying to pull away from him but he held me still.

“I’m not lying.” He said gently. “You can ask Jared. There is nothing more that I wanted than to kiss you today.”

I blinked a few times, this time sitting up fully to look at him. “W-what?”

He brought his lip in between his teeth as he looked down nervously at his hands. “I’ve been in love with you Kylie since the first time I saw you ten years ago.” He glanced up. “When I began kissing you today, even in front of all those people and that camera I couldn’t stop.”

“I-I-“ I stuttered like the dumbass I was.

“You don’t have to say anything.” He said with an awkward chuckle.

“Oh Jensen.” I couldn’t stop myself from smashing my lips to his in a needy passionate kiss. He instantly wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close to his chest so he could run his fingers through my curls. I pulled away slightly. “I love you too.” I said softly before kissing him again.

He pulled back this time, blinking in shock. “Y-You do?” He stuttered in shock.

I let out a soft chuckle and nodded. “I have, for ten long years.” I smiled. “But you were with a girlfriend at the time, and I knew I would never compare to her.”

He shook his head. “You are so special to me Kylie. I just thought you would never see me that way.”

I leaned back against the couch, running my fingers through my hair with a small smile on my face. “We’re so dumb.” I let out a little laugh.

“We are.” He nodded joining in on my laughter.

After we calmed down, I looked up at him with awe. He was just so beautiful; I couldn’t believe that he was interested in me.

“So, what do we do now?” I asked once we calmed down.

“What do you want to do?” He asked, looking at me nervously.

I reached over and grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly. “I want to be with you.” I paused. “Do you want to be with me?”

“More than anything.” He smiled. “I would give up everything for you.” He leaned in and kissed me quickly.

“Then we should be together.” I grinned. “But maybe we should keep it on the low down for a while?”

“Just for a while.” Jensen winked.

------------------------------

2 months later.

“I am here with one of the stars of Supernatural Kylie.” The reporter smiled as she sat comfortably in her seat. “How are you doing today?”

I on the other hand was uncomfortable, I didn’t like interviews especially ones that I had to do alone. “I am doing great. How about you Sara?” I asked trying to stay calm.

“I am great, so happy to be here with you.” She nodded. “I heard you heard a little accident while filming a few months ago. Anything serious?”

I forced a smile and waved my hand. “Oh no, no, no I just didn’t eat enough that day and my sugar dropped. I have to be careful now, and Jared and Jensen are constantly making sure I keep my sugar up.”

“Are you diabetic?” She asked, looking over her note cards.

I bit my lip at the question not sure if I was ready to talk about an important moment in my life that had happened only a few weeks ago. “No, well not really.” I chuckled. “I was diagnosed a few weeks ago with PCOS, poly cystic ovarian syndrome.” I nodded.

“Can you discuss this more?” She asked with a raised brow, intrigued.

“Sure, it’s common. Most women have it and lead normal lives, but it is a hormonal disorder and along with some female fertility issues, there can be an imbalance in some metabolic areas.” I explained.

Jensen had made me go to the doctors after the incident, just to make sure I was healthy. One of the things we talked about my weight and my trouble losing. Once we did a few tests, we quickly discovered that I had PCOS and although not life-threatening, it still worried me, so I’ve done extensive research with the help of Jensen.

“Well I do hope you are doing well.” Sara nodded.

I glanced behind her where Jensen stood giving me a thumbs up. “I’m doing great.” I let out, giving him a bright smile.

“That’s wonderful! We are all excited to see the new season of Supernatural. Anything you can tell us?”

I let out a slight laugh and nodded. “I think it’s going to be something different, ones the fans aren’t going to suspect.”

“Are we going to see a love connection between your character and Dean?” She wagged her eyebrows.

“Well,” I bit my lip, “I guess you’re just going to have to watch and find out.”

She frowned but nodded her head. “What about you and Mr. Ackles? Any love connection there? There’s been multiple reports of you and him going out to local restaurants together.”

I bit my lip and glanced at Jensen again who was smiling proudly. He wanted to let our secret relationship out to family and friends, but I had been pushing it off, not ready to our us to the world.

“Jensen and I have always been close friends.” I nodded. “Our relationship has grown over the years and he always been my biggest supporter in everything I do.” I smiled. “Our relationship has recently grown from friends to boyfriend and girlfriend.”

The reporter grinned at the news and nodded. “That is wonderful to hear! Congratulations! Thank you for talking with me, we cannot wait to see what Supernatural brings this season.” She turned to face the camera. “Be sure to watch Kylie on Supernatural on Mondays at 8 o’clock.”

“And cut. That was perfect.”

I stood up from my chair thanking the reporter before going to Jensen who was grinning from ear to ear. “I love you.” He said wrapping his arms around.

I rolled my eyes playfully and placed my hands on his shoulders. “You know Jared and Gen are both going to murder us when they see this right?”

“Totally worth it.” He grinned before pressing a passionate kiss to my lips.

[baekchelor]

𝕕𝕒𝕪𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕕𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕡𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟

pairings: George Mackay x reader genre: romantic comedy rating: pg13 synopsis: on the set of his new film, golden boy George Mackay learns a basic human truth: that the heart is deceitful above all things.

❝ have  you  ever  been  in  love? horrible  isn’t  it?  it  makes  you  so  vulnerable.  it  opens  your  chest  and  it  opens  up  your  heart  and  it  means  that  someone  can  get  inside  you  and  mess  you  up.❞                                                                                                                         ―neil  gaiman

ONE | SCRIPTS & BONDS ◄ ᴘʀᴇᴠ

The first read-through for Dharma happens three weeks later at a film studio in London. Although George allowed Daisy to sleep at his place last night, he didn't even say goodbye when he walked out on the girl deeply asleep on the wrong side of the bed. He wanted to be early as usual, and leaving coffee ready on the kitchen counter didn't fall bellow a No-Strings-Attached relationship, so he didn't bother. There are only Greta Gerwig and some staffers to greet when he's ushered into the venue.

"Y/N isn't here yet," George observes, tired blue orbs scanning the room.

"Don't worry," Alma smiles. She's already slipped a coffee cup into his hand, the way she always does in work mornings when she's well aware George is still half-asleep. The boy snickers to himself, his manager is so predictable. "She'll be here."

"She's probably still with Henry," George surmises. Y/N isn't known as The Witcher’s princess for nothing.

Alma shrugs, encouraging to slurp his Americano and mind his own business. George is well aware this chat makes him look foolish and inexplicably jealous. Thankfully, Alma gossips along, "I don't doubt for a second she may have slept with him last night. But she won't be sleeping in, I can guarantee you that." George tilts his head, asking for more in tell. Alma's red-stained lips stretch open in a yawn. "She always comes on the dot, apparently. Never early, never late."

More interested than he should, and with an amused grin, he consults the time on his phone. Nine o'clock. "Thirty more minutes, then." He places the iPhone on the table in front of him, next to his script. "Let's time her." Alma chuckles, shaking her head. George plays dumb, opting to dramatically smell his coffee before proceed and take another sip from his cup. He picks up the thick white booklet, lines already colour-coded per actor, and starts to read through it.

Dharma is set in 1857 India. Aakesh, a penniless Hindi boy —portrayed by Dev Patel, the main lead— has always known his social standing is a consequence of wrongdoing in his past life. Y/N plays Marina, a wealthy Spanish girl Aakesh believes to be his past life love and the trigger of his attempts to clean his karma. George's character becomes involved when Colonel Edmund Thorn (Michael Fassbender), concerned about the safety of his fianceé, Marina, assigns James as her personal guard. They fall in love.

Thumbing through the middle section of his script, where the plot starts to thicken, it suddenly dawns on George how much acting this movie is going to require of him. His character demands him to declare his devotion to Marina with mere gazes, words few. Still, each movement of his body vociferates a heartfelt love, deepest that any he's ever impersonated.

George closes his eyes, trying to get in character. He imagines himself having this conversation with someone he desperately loves. He pictures Daisy in his head. Her thick, ash blonde hair and smiling eyes, the pink warm of her cheeks and the heat of her mouth when he kisses her.

It feels like cheating, though, because his character is supposed to be in love with Marina, and although Daisy is a girl he enjoys spending time with, he is not in love with her.

George's sigh exits in a long, laboured stream of breath.

"Everything all right?"

The voice is sweet, with an upward lilt to it. It sounds hesitant too, but like it's trying not to be.

The boy looks up. Y/N is studying him, dark-haired and flushed, the expression on her face shy.

"Oh, hello there," George smiles, clearing his head of its haze. He rises from his seat and extends a hand. "I'm George."

"I know," she giggles, holding it. Her palm is cold, whereas George's is warm. "I'm Y/N. I really admire your work. I’m a big fan… Probably had seen all your movies."

George can't help feeling a little sheepish at that. "Thank you," he says. Their arms fall back to their sides. "Same here. Without the 'I'm Y/N' part," he jokes, and he wants to slap himself for being that lame.

"Geo’s friend is a big fan of your boyfriend," Alma quips from behind her. She's too practical to ever get star struck. "I'm Alma, by the way. Geo's manager."

Y/N smiles charmingly as she shakes Alma's hand. And George finds himself in a daze, he loves the way she behaves, how her voice sounds like and the welcoming aura she irradiates.

<< The fuck is wrong with you?>>

"Nice to meet you, Alma." She turns back to George and smiles wider. She has small, pink lips; like petals. "I can arrange a meet and greet if you'd like."

"Thank you," George says, smiling back in spite of himself.

Y/N's eyes twinkle as she coyly shrugs her shoulders. She's wearing a tight little skirt George is sure Daisy owns too. It just doesn't look as good on her as it does on the girl who's currently in front of him.

"Whoa! Look at us getting along," she cheers, eyes transformed into two crescent moons, "Must confess I came prepared to try to break the ice." She seems to check herself then, pursing her mouth and laughing all of a sudden. "Sorry, that made it sound like we're going on a blind date or something."

George laughs along because her giggles are contagious and it is kind of funny. "We kind of are? We're playing star-crossed lovers and didn't even do a chemistry test. I'm pretty much going into this thing blind."

"Aren't we?" Y/N looks like she's glad to find someone in the same boat. "I was just telling--"

"Henry" George quips. His mouth stills awkwardly over the last syllable. He's not sure why he's letting himself be so familiar with this girl when they've only just met.

Y/N doesn't seem to mind, though. "Oh, no, no," she rolls back on her heels, "Henry and I are kinda...well..."

It puts George at ease for some reason. "Oh I see," he says affably with absolutely no bite to it, and Y/N's soft smile flashes again. "You were saying?"

"I was saying," she continues, "I was telling Dev about the no chemistry test thing, and he goes:" her voice fakes a man's voice, heavy British accent and everything, "you guys don't need it. Look at you both! Would look so good together.'" Y/N shakes her head a little, chuckling as she exhales. "I wasn't sure how to react."

"My friend Dean said the same thing," a smile creeps without George's consent as he confesses Dean's mischief. Y/N lets out a soft Oh. "I guess we just, I dunno-"

"You just have natural chemistry," Greta pipes up out of nowhere. She softly squeezes Y/N's cheek fondly. "Still on time, uh? You never change."

"It's all on Vanessa," she giggles with equal fondness. Vanessa is her manager slash personal assistant. George thinks the actress relationship with Greta is reasonable since they've worked together before in a movie he can't remember the name, but she stared alongside Timotheé Chalamet.

The director strikes up a bit of small talk about Y/N's last movie, The Selection, where she and Tom Holland bring the book to life in Netflix's screens. If George remembers it correctly, Holland plays a prince and Y/N portrays a commoner who is selected to compete for the prince's heart. The movie seems a cringe, but for some weird reason, George has decided to watch it once he gets home. Hopefully, Daisy will be gone by then, and the boy would stop at the convenience store to buy beer and popcorn.

George picks up his phone. Stealthily, he checks the time. Nine thirty-five. He and Y/N have been talking for approximately five minutes.

<<On the dot>>, he thinks to himself, recalling Alma's words. Then he hears his name. "Pardon?"

Y/N is saying, "I'll go sit with Dev. Catch up with you later?"

"Yeah, of course," due to his actor demeanour George can hide the disappointment trapped between his words. He understands she has to sit with Dev, their characters interact throughout the entirety of the film. "Do what you have to do."

"Talk to you later then," she shoots him a bright smile, her pink gums gleaming inside of it.

Greta is calling for the rest of the cast to take their seats around the square actors' table. Call it luck, but Dev and Y/N's sits are right across the chair labelled Mackay. The brit places his phone back on the table and slides into his chair.

"By the way," she says, turning around again. "Do I call you, George? Or..."

"Or?" flipping back to the first page of the script, he folds the cover back neatly as he questions the girl with his eyes.

"Your manager called you Geo." Y/N returns her inquisitive gaze. "That's your nickname?"

"Sort of," George laughs. "Very few people call me that way."

"May I?"

He shrugs, "Sure." As he rubs his palm over the script, he decides, on a whim, to try something new. How James, his character, calls her: "Ms Marina."

The crinkles in the corners of Y/N's eyes make the risk worth it.

"Okay," she says, walking backwards with her hands entwined. "Let's have fun today, Geo."

"Flirty Thirty” A gleam of the eye, a quirk of the lip, and it isn't Marina talking anymore, is Y/N tittering.

The room erupts in laughter. George's laughing the hardest of all.

"Y/N," Greta scolds half-heartedly. "Don't break character."

"Sorry, G," Y/N apologizes sweetly. "I thought I would break the ice."

Somehow, George finds himself smiling.

Today marks the fourth official Dharma read-through, and the tenth time they've gone over the entire script. George gets why Y/N is antsy; he is too. He can't wait to start filming in Mumbai, to smell the air of the streets, hear the whir of traffic and fast-paced Hindi. He can't wait to feel James in his bones in every take, the character encasing him, flesh and blood.

Fact is read-throughs are boring. So d*mn repetitive. George is just glad he's got perfect girl Y/N Y/L/N around to make things bearable.

Gerwig sighs in resignation. "Let's break for lunch," she says, addressing the entire group, "Reconvene in an hour."

George catches Y/N's eye and mouths, Padella? Y/N nods vigorously, flashing two thumbs up and a bright smile. The one the boy has grown fond of.

"I'm dying," George tells her a few minutes later as they walk to the restaurant. Luckily for both, it is near the film studio.

"Same here," she agrees. "One last read-through then India, here we come!"

"But we go through the script three times each meeting," George is half-whining, half-sniggering at the way Y/N's eyes roll to the back of her head. "We'll probably take even longer than usual today because of your little adlib."

"Sorry..."

"It was fun, though." Quickly, George reaches out to ruffle the hair on the top of Y/N's head. He wants to touch her. He just doesn't know why nor how and he doesn't want to make her feel uncomfortable. He cares too much for her. "Not a lot of laughs in this love story of ours."

Y/N doesn't bother smoothing down the mess. "Can you imagine loving someone as much, Geo?"

"Uhm..." George brushes a fingertip against his own fringe. He needs to get it trimmed before they start the live shoots. "I don’t know. Their love is something out of this world.”

"Yeah," Y/N watches the movement casually. "It is."

They get to the restaurant and the waiter, who is clearly a fan of hers, greets them enthusiastically.

"You two are so good looking," she gushes, but George knows the compliment is directed at Y/N. The waiter, who's tag reads Flo, merely is trying to be polite by her use of pronouns. "You get more and more dashing every time I see you." Y/N gives her the prettiest smile, and Flo enthusiastically looks at George, beyond happy for the reaction she got out of Y/N. George would be thrilled as well if the prettiest girl at Padella smiled at him in such a way...

<<What?>>

Padella has become a familiar haunt. They'd gone after the first read-through —when George discovered Y/Ns favourite food was any type of pasta— and every read-through after that, always ordering a dish they haven't tasted before and two glasses of wine. Not exactly in keeping with the diets, but George reckons these cheat days won't hurt. He and Y/N have taken to exercising together too, fitting in the gym sessions between their Dharma meetings and other schedules.

"I gained weight when I was a teenager," Y/N admitted during one of their workouts. "I had to work out to keep the weight off. Not like you." She'd smiled her sweet, bright smile, and George could imagine her being just as likeable with double the meat on her bones.

"I grow a beer gut like that," he'd told Y/N, snapping his fingers. "So I have to work it off, too."

In record time, Flo brings their dishes, leaving a courtesy starter on the table. George grabs his fork and swirls it through the fettuccini. It makes a pleasing, gooey sound as he incorporates the Pomodoro sauce.

"Oh, right, if I may Ms Marina," George says, giggling. The actress hums in return, mixing the contents of her own plate. "Do you want to come over for dinner tomorrow? My sister is cooking carbonara, your favourite."

"Oh my god," Y/N looks up from her dish, mouth-watering at the mere thought of her favourite food. "She won't mind me crashing your dinner?"

"No," George replies, slouching over his bowl. "She asked me to invite you."

"Really?" her orbs go a little round. "Why?"

A mouthful of bolognese disappears into George's mouth with a slurp, "I might have mentioned your love for Italian food."

Y/N takes a sip of her rosé, "Won't you mind me crashing your sibling dinner?"

"Nah," he smiles. “We're friends." He swallows the food he's chewed into the side of his cheek and tries not to meet Y/N's eyes. "I kind of like hanging out with you."

"Oh," she answers instantly, so blasé, pink across her cheeks. George adores it. "I kind of like hanging out with you, too."

George glances up then, and they share a knowing smile before going back to their food. It's oily and red, a little salty. George knows he's going to have to wash his teeth and throw a box of mints into his mouth before they go back to the read-through, but he doesn't care. It's delicious.

Their comfortable silence is broken when Y/N's phone rings inside her Rebecca Minkoff’s bag. She pulls it out, glances at the screen, and gestures to George that she's going to take it outside.

"I'll be right back," she says; tongue running over her teeth. The boy nods, just as Y/N answers the call and turns.

"Hey, H," George hears her say as she pushes through the door. "What's up?"

Cavill, he thinks to himself, sucking up to another curtain of fettuccini.

Fleetingly, he wonders if he should tell Y/N to bring a date—as in Henry. But the idea is pushed to the back of his mind when Flo comes by their table to ask if they would want more wine, and it doesn't resurface, not even when Y/N strolls back in from her private call.

In her pale silk blouse and tight little skirt, the one Y/N owns too, Daisy looks every bit as gorgeous as she does in her Basic House ads. George gotta admit. Yet he feels a little itch when he looks at her, it bothers him, so he focuses his attention on the other Daisy in the room. His sister.

She's setting down a plate of sour bread on his dinner table, her hair tied back in a ponytail. Luhan watches her lazily, admiring the classy decoration of the table. It looks out of a restaurant. Much better than Padella's.

"Since when my sister's become a chef?" he says playfully. His sister giggles in response, her attention too immersed in the preparations. She wants it all to be perfect. Scratch that, more than perfect.

Only then George returns his gaze towards the other Daisy, and he notices she's staring at him, a pout on her pretty red lips.

"Why not?" she asks. George wants to roll his eyes, but he's too polite to do so. He lets her continue the tantrum, "You know I used to have a poster of Henry Cavill in my old dorm, right? The whole time I was in University?" George barely nods. "So please, please, please, please, please... Please, George. Let me meet his girlfriend, hmm?"

"No," he answers. The hurt in Daisy's green eyes confirms he's been too harsh. He reaches up to tuck a loose tendril of hair behind her ear. She lets him do it, wearing a small and sweet smile. "I'll get jealous, baby," he lies in an attempt to soften his previous words.

She laughs, hiding her face as it turns a flattering shade of crimson. She's always been flattered by stuff like this and George doesn't understand why. They're not a couple, to begin with.

"Okay," she circles the table, fingers lacing into George's as she sits on his lap. She plants a kiss against his lips, "I'll get going then. Call me later?"

"Yeah," he pecks her on the tip of her nose and her eyelashes quiver.

The moment Daisy leaves, her namesake, George's sister Daisy, pops his head from the kitchen.

"You know, Henry is my celebrity crush too," her feet express her enthusiasm in small jumps. "I'm so excited!"

"You what?" George's nostrils flare, "Why every girl I know is infatuated with him?"

The doorbell rings before George can retort any further. His eyes flick over to the wall clock on impulse. 8PM. Of course.

"She's here," Daisy smiles, hands flapping at her sides. She combs back her hair, pauses, and repeats the action two more times.

It reminds George of the time he'd run into Brad Pitt backstage at an award show in Los Angeles. He was already famous by then, but he'd still tugged at the sleeves of his tux obsessively, hoping the jacket was sitting squarely on his shoulders, right before he'd said hello.

He walks to answer the door as Daisy places the pasta on the table. Y/N's standing in the corridor with a bottle of red in one hand.

"Ms Marina," George drawls, "Is that you, in my humble home?"

Laughing, Y/N kisses both his cheeks in greeting. George chuckles, taking the wine, and suddenly, he feels his face burning hot. "On the dot, as always."

The girl blushes. At least he's not the only one.

"Come on in," George waves her through the door. "My sister is dying to meet you." He can hear the hissed Geo! like a whip slicing through the air.

Y/N snaps her knuckles, a smile pulling up evenly on both sides, "Hello, Daisy."

A demure, cotton-soft voice replies, "Hello, gorgeous. It's so nice to meet you.”

"Likewise,” the actress beams.

Save for a few bites of pancetta, the serving plates look as though they’ve been licked clean.

"That was so, so good Daisy. The best carbonara I've ever had" Y/N compliments the cook. "Thanks for letting me try it."

"Any time" she replies, looking like a kid who's just been handed a present. George smiles at her, pouring both girls another glass of wine.

The night has gone well. Being the outgoing type, Daisy wasted no time in making Y/N  feel comfortable in her brother's home. She'd seated her next to George at the table, fussing over them both as she peppered Y/N with questions about her last two projects. She'd let slip that she'd watched every season of The Tudor's and Y/N's smile had been bashful.

"I loved Henry's work," Daisy had admitted, and George couldn't help but giggle at how quickly his sister's face coloured in bright pink.

George offers Y/N the last bit of burgundy in the bottle. When the latter declines, licking at the wine-stained seam of her mouth, he pours it for himself.

"You don't have to be so formal with me," Y/N tells Daisy, her tone already fond. George can tell she likes that. "I'm a big fan of Henry too. I had the biggest crush on him before I even met him." Her face is still a little rosy. She blushes really easily, and George likes it.

“It still feels weird. Henry is your boyfriend!”

"It's totally fine. Trust me," Y/N reassures her. "We can fangirl over him as Geralt every time you want. I don't mind."

Daisy squeals.

"Okay, enough girl talk." It isn't jealousy what makes George scoff. At least that's what he tells himself. He reaches into his pocket for cigarettes. "I'm just gonna go for a smoke, okay?"

Daisy’s pretty face pinches, "I wish you'd quit. Those things are horrible for you."

"I'll just have one," he bargains, sweet as honey. He pats his belly, crafting a compact sound. "I need it. You fed me too well, sister."

Y/N sniggers and Daisy rolls her eyes. Pointedly, she asks, "Do you smoke?"

"Sometimes," Y/N answers. “But I agree, it’s nasty.”

George watches as Y/N —the traitor—agrees with his sister, "Anyways, you should come with me so I can show you around."

"You shall," Daisy encourages.

“I don’t know,” the actress murmurs but George has already hooked his fingers behind her elbow and is half-hauling her out of her seat. "C’mon, let's go."

"Fine. Lead the way, Geo."

They take the elevator down to the pool area on the fifth floor, where smoking is permitted. George puts a cigarette in his mouth, holding his lighter in front of it, so the flame ignites it.

Y/N takes a long sigh. "Daisy is great," she says quickly. "She's so much like you."

"Thanks. I guess?" George exhales, the smoke curling in a ribbon of diaphanous white. "You’re still seeing Henry, uh?"

The other smirks. "You say that like you know it for sure."

"Alma likes gossip” George licks his lips. They taste of wine and olives.

The girl shrugs. "It’s kinda..." she answers. "It's on and off."

"Oh?" George blows a few smoke rings, rounding out his mouth and flicking his tongue to create the hole in the centre. "Mind if I ask why?"

"No particular reason," Y/N rushes the answer. "I’d rather not talk about it. Sometimes it... it just doesn’t work, ya know?”

Without thinking, George makes an offer he didn't realize was on the table. "Whenever it doesn't work," he says, "you should just hang out with me," he quickly continues, a little freaked, words rushing out, "and Daisy. Me and Daisy."

Y/N laughs, just once: its all gums and perfect pearly teeth. "Do you feel sorry for me?"

"Hardly, Mrs Prettiest Face On TV," George retorts mildly. Y/N laughs again, and George can't tell if she's sarcastic or earnest. Not that it matters. "It's just you and my sister got along really well, and I–"

"Thanks," Y/N cuts in. Her eyes are particularly feline in this light, and her voice is a degree more gentle than it was before. "I'll take you up on that."

She watches him smoke in silence for a few more minutes, the night air clouding with the filmy exhaust of his cigarette. When Y/N yawns, George stubs it out. Then he loops his arm around her waist.

Unconsciously, she leans into the touch. "It's weird," she observes, "that we didn't know each other two months ago."

"Really weird," George concedes, slightly buzzed from the wine and only half-aware that something has lifted between them. "I’m glad it's two months later."

In the days leading up to India, dinner at George's become a regular thing. Every two nights, Y/N will show up with something to add to the table: wine, desserts and beer, a floury baguette wrapped in paper or a basket of fresh fruit.

Sometimes Daisy joins them, and the conversation flows like blood through veins. At around midnight, Y/N will excuse herself to give the siblings their space but not before George extracts a promise from her to work out or watch a movie the following day. (She happens to love cinema as much as him.)

Other times, when Daisy is out with her boyfriend and the other Daisy isn't smouldering George with text messages asking him to dine with her, go to the movies with her, come to the theatre to see her, bla bla bla; George will chat idly with Y/N until the wee hours of the morning. The ice in their drinks will crackle and melt, diluting their colour, as they discuss their childhood dreams and the trajectory of their careers. They recount their upward climb in show business, the slow decline of some of their peers, and the fear that they might someday be in the same boat. They joke about their management and how both companies have long given up on damage control when it comes to their love lives.

George tells her more about caring, candid Alma, and Dean, his co-star and now best friend.

"Blake and Schofield are real-life BFF's?" George’s companion asks incredulously, "I stan so hard."

In turn, Y/N confesses him Sam Mendes is her absolute favourite director, and George promises to introduce them. She also voices about Henry, their ups and downs and the fact half of their circle of friends categorize their relationship as toxic.

"Keep that to yourself," Y/N adds after a brief lull. "I've never told anyone about it."

"They won't hear it from me," George swears, taking a gulp of watered-down Pilsen. He doesn't even tell his sister.

Dharma begins its live shoots three months after the first read-through.

Y/N and George are scheduled to film in Mumbai for four weeks. Alma informs George it's likely they will extend to six due to Greta Gerwig's infamous obsessive compulsiveness. His actors often end up filming simple scenes over and over again for days, because the director doesn't think the natural light or the colour of a couch or the feeling is quite right.

"Already cleared it with the boss," Alma shares brightly. She means the head of his management, who happens to love George, as all CEOs love their biggest star.

"Fine with me," the actor says. "I don't mind staying in Mumbai a little longer." He's worked with less pleasant directors than Greta before, and a little OCD won't take the fun out of filming with Y/N.

He's pleased to discover that the other feels the same way.

"Let's press for six weeks," Y/N says as they climb into the luxury car waiting for them at the airport. She speaks in a natural tone of voice, as though there isn't a swarm of fans screaming outside the vehicle. "I had only been here once, years ago, I lived in a small city near Mumbai called Pune for almost two months.”

"How come?"

"School stuff... I can't wait to rediscover India. Have you ever been?"

"Nope," George says, sliding off his sunglasses and running a hand through his hair. "Count me in on the exploration."

The way Y/N looks at him like he's her closest person in the world right now makes George's insides warm.

ɴᴇxᴛ►

@loulouloueh​

[berkblockman]

The Fiancée Mistake // Dean Winchester x reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader, Jensen Ackles x reader (implied) Word count: 2050 Warnings: Lenguage Summary: After being sent to an alternate reality where your life is part of a TV show, you find yourself descovering things about this alternative universe that will make an impact on your life. Tags: @akshi8278​ (a/n): This one shot is based on the episode ‘The French Mistake’.

You had seen many weird things in your life, some stuff that other people couldn’t begin to imagine. But you could not believe your own eyes when, after crossing that window, you saw yourself standing in front of a whole set. Apparently, Balthazar had sent you and the Winchesters to another dimension, one where there was no supernatural beings and your life was just a TV show.

Everything was so confusing there… And the more you tried to understand things the more lost you felt. As soon as you were able to escape set, you did some research on how to get home, but you couldn’t find any spell able to do that, nor any real spell for the matter. Moving on, you decided to search your name and the show online. You were surprised to see that you weren’t even on the main cast of the show, you were just a secondary character that appeared every once in a while to help the Winchesters.

It felt strange to read your biography on a fan’s blog at the internet, and seeing that complete strangers knew everything about your life was shocking. But the real surprise came when you looked up online the name of the actress who played you on the show. Well, you were supposed to be her, you thought, you should know at least some basic facts about ‘yourself’.

As soon as you googled your actress’s name, some news appeared in the screen of your laptop. You frowned as you read the headline aloud. You from this reality had just gotten engaged with some guy named Jensen Ackles. You clicked on the “read more” button, and you frowned when you saw a picture of the so-called Jensen. He was the actor who played Dean and, according to what you were reading, you had been dating since you met on the set of the show during season 3, where your character first appeared in the show.

You closed your laptop in disgust. You and Dean had never been really close to each other. Sometimes, you could barely stand him as you found his behavior way too childish, which usually lead to the both of you arguing. Not that you hated him or anything, you just seemed to be incompatible. You feel like you wouldn’t even hang out with him if it wasn’t for the hunting and your mutual interest of preventing the world to end.

It would have made a lot more sense if you were engaged to Sam. You didn’t even think of him in a romantic way, but you really had more things in common with him than you would ever have with Dean. Anyway, from what you could see online, Sam’s actor was already married to a woman called Genevieve Cortese, who was the one playing Ruby 2 on the show. Was everyone’s love lives here limited to their place of work?

You were called on set again and you rushed out of your trailer to meet Sam and Dean, who were on set, doing some terrible acting to try and get the crew to leave them alone. After the eleventh take of the same scene, the desperate director allowed them to have a 5-minute break. They immediately run to you.

“Have you found a way to get back home?” Sam asked you as soon as he stood by your side.

“There’s nothing out there. I couldn’t find a single spell that would actually work.” You explained. “But I’ve search about the show online. Your names in this universe are Jensen Ackles and Jared Padakleski.”

“It’s Padalecki.” Sam corrected you.

“So, there’s nothing we can do to get out of here?” Dean asked you in desperation.

“Not that I know.” You shrugged.

“There must be a way to get out of here.” Sam said. “We just need to keep searching.”

“And what do we do in the meantime?” Dean asked again.

“I think we should act normal, pretend we’re actors. At least until we find our way out of here.” Sam tried to make the smart choice. “Have you found any other information about this world that could be useful?”

“Yes. You’re married to Ruby 2.” You informed Sam, who gave you a confused look. “To the actress who played her. Her name was Genevieve something… And Jensen is engaged…” Certain Winchester didn’t let you finish.

“Cool, is fake me marrying a Hollywood star?” The smile on Dean’s face grew bigger as he imagined the whole thing up.

“Jensen is engaged to me.” You finally stated as Dean looked at you, frowning. “I don’t like it any more than you do, but I don’t make the rules here.”

“You just have to pretend to be a couple until we get out of here. It can’t be that hard.” The youngest Winchester said.

You spent the rest of the day on set trying to stay unnoticed and waiting desperately for the time to get home. You had to stand people walking to where you and ‘Jensen’ were and congratulating the two of you for ‘taking the big step’. Trying not to be rude, you thanked those people and acted like if you were in love with Dean, Jensen or whatever his name in this universe was.

Finally, the time of getting out of there arrived, and as quickly as you could, you ran to the parking lot and tried to discover which one was your car. As it turned out, you actually had a personal chauffeur that drove you around. You and Dean got in the car.

“Where to, lovebirds?” He asked looking at you through the rearview mirror.

“Just take us home.” Dean tried to act normal.

You stayed silent all the way until you finally reached your destination. Surprised at the big place you seemed to own, you thanked Cliff the chauffeur and got inside the house. It seemed even bigger on the inside.

“Do we already live together?” You questioned as you looked around, trying to get familiarized with the place since you didn’t know how many time you were going to stay there. “Isn’t it too soon?”

“The thing that freaks you out the most about this universe is that we live together?” Dean laughed at you. “I mean, we’re engaged. Of course we live together.”

“It just… Seems too early, how long have we known each other in this universe? 2 years?” You sighed. “As I see it, we’re rushing things up.”

“Are you fake dumping me, fake fiancée?” He laughed at your words.

“What? No!” You quickly said. “I just- This universe confuses me.”

“Don’t worry, I get that things here can be confusing.” He tried to calm you down. “But it’s going to be okay, we’ll find our way out of here.”

“I hope so.” You sat on the couch, hiding your head in between your hands.

“It’s fine. I’ll keep being your fake fiancée.” Dean sat by your side. “But you have to promise me that you won’t fall in love with me.”

“Idiot.” You laughed and punched him playfully.

The days went by as you tried to find your way back home. Magic seemed to be the only way to get back, but there wasn’t any magic in that world, which meant that the three of you were stuck in that universe until Castiel and Balthazar decided to come back for you. So, in the meantime you would just walk around set all day with Dean, trying to look like a couple so no one would question you. They had more than enough with your suddenly horrible acting.

What you didn’t know was that Raphael was sending one of his angels, Virgil, to get the key that you had to keep. And it totally caught you off guard when you found him in the middle of the set. Dean and you tried to fight him off, but when some stunts came to separate you, you couldn’t prevent Virgil to steal the key from you and run away. The one thing you had to do, guard the key, and you had failed.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Dean assured you, but you couldn’t help but feel like a failure. “We’re going to get the key back, and we’re going to get back home.”

The Winchesters and you began to focus on how to track Virgil down, but it wasn’t until Castiel’s actor, Misha, was murdered that you had news from him.  You rushed to the place of the crime and talked to a homeless man that was around during the whole thing. He told you how Virgil had contacted Raphael and that he was going to bring him back the next day. That was your way out of there, you just had to stop him before he went back to your universe.

You were nervous as you walked around set. If everything turned out okay, it would be the last time that you would be in that place. But for some reason that didn’t seem as great as you thought it would be. You had gotten used to that place, in some sort of way. If you stayed there, you were going to need a new job since acting was not your thing, but the thought of staying there with Dean didn’t seem that awful for some reason. Still immersed in your thoughts, you overheard Dean’s voice as he talked to Sam.

“We wouldn’t be that broken up if we didn’t come back.” The older Winchester said.

“What?” Sam asked, trying to understand his brother’s words. “Don’t be stupid.”

“Well, I was just saying. No hell below us, above us only sky.”

“Dean, our friends are back there.” Sam looked at his brother.

“Yeah, but our live is not that bad here.” Dean tried to convince his brother. “You’re married to fake Ruby, I’m with Y/N. It wouldn’t be that awful if we stayed here. Back home the hits have been coming since you were 6 months old.”

From where you were standing, you tried to decode what Dean’s words actually meant. Was he feeling the same way about you? As Sam and Dean finished their conversation, you walked in the room, pretending you hadn’t heard anything.

It didn’t take long for Virgil to appear and for you to get into a fight with him. Luckily for you, he didn’t have his powers in this dimension, which made it easy for you to beat him, steal the key and finally get through the portal.

Getting back home, you found out that Balthazar and Castiel were only using you as a distraction for Raphael so they could actually get heaven’s weapons on their own. After confronting the archangel, Castiel sent you back to Bobby’s.

It felt weird to be finally back. One part of you was happy to be back in your own reality, but the other part of you would have wanted to stay on the other universe. You went to Dean as you watched him pour himself a glass of whiskey.

“Hey.” You greeted him and sat by his side. He greeted you back. “Can I have one of those?”

“Sure.” He poured you another glass and handed it to you.

“I just wanted to say that, back there at the other reality, you weren’t the worst fiancée ever.” He laughed at your words as you took a sip of whiskey.

“You were not that bad yourself.” His green eyes were on you as he placed his glass on his lips. You stayed silent for a few seconds.

“I overheard your conversation with Sam earlier, you saying that it wouldn’t have been that bad if we had stayed in the alternative universe.” You confessed. “I wouldn’t have disliked it either.”

Dean couldn’t help but smile as he heard what you were saying. He looked at you in the eye as he got closer to you, leaning in to kiss you. You kissed him back as soon as you felt his lips on top of yours, feeling as nervous as you thought you would ever be in a situation like this one.

“I told you not to fall in love with me.” Dean smirked as he pulled away.

“Shut up, idiot.” You hushed him as you kissed him once more.

[jerkbitchidjitassbutt]

What If I Told You (8)

Characters: Jensen x Reader; Jared Padalecki; SPN Cast members at times.

Summary: You and Jensen have been the closest of friends for years after meeting on the set of SPN, but what will happen when you and Jensen have a kissing scene?

Warnings: Cursing; divorce; break up; angst-ish at times, but mostly fluff. For this chapter: Canon divergence from the show, spn-related sadness.

I consider this an AU, as Jensen is divorced from an unnamed ex in this fic. This is completely a work of fiction, and I wouldn’t want his reality to be any different, this is purely for entertainment.

A/n: Just a tiny bit more until the big one. Special thanks to my rosie for beta-ing this for me.

11 Months Ago

 “You’re going to do what, exactly?” You hissed as the ‘brother’s stood adjacent to their marks. “A soul bomb? What the hell are you even talking about, Dean?”

“You heard me, Y/c/n.” Dean barked. “I have to do this. I have to get rid of her.”

“Your girlfriend, you mean?” you sassed, voice laced with annoyance.

“Don’t!” he bellowed pointing a finger towards you, a gruffness present that was unmistakably Dean.

“Oh, give it up, Winchester. This is just another way for you to sacrifice yourself! Another self-deprecating, ‘I have to save the world because no one else will’ guilt trip you’ve managed to load on your own shoulders! Failing gloriously, I might add, to notice that there are actually people here who are trying to help you!”

Your voice cracked slightly, standing in the library of the bunker with Sam, Rowena, and Crowley, waiting as the witch gathered the ingredients to inlay Dean’s body with a million souls to remove Amara from earth, thereby shredding his very existence with her.

Dean moved closer to you, taking slow, methodical steps. In reality, Jensen was moving towards his secondary mark, following the track given to him by the director.

“I know that, Y/c/n… but there isn’t any other way.”

A single tear shed from your eye as you yelled, “Yes there is! There’s got to be! We can find another way!” you choked.

Sam stood off to the side, witnessing your outburst with a slightly solemn frown.

“Hey.” Dean murmured, closing in to your space, placing his hands on your shoulders. “I’m sorry, okay? I am… but I’m the only one who can do this, sweetheart.” He confided, pain, guilt, and defeat enlaced in his gaze.

He drew a single finger gingerly across your cheek to catch the tear that fell.

“Why? Why does it always have to be you, Dean?”

This was the closest your characters had ever come to any indication of feelings for one another canonically, but in true ‘Supernatural’ fashion, it was brazened with heartache and despair.

Jensen’s stare was heavy with emotion before he pulled your form into his arms, yours wrapping around his midsection as one of his hands cradled your head, placing a chaste kiss to your temple before quickly moving away, an unspoken word left when he moved to stand in front of Ruth, ready to accept the spell.

“Alright. Let’s do this.” He said.

“AND CUT!” the director bellowed across the set. “Reset, everyone! 5 minutes!”

Rushing towards the makeup chair to have the tears wiped from your cheeks, Jensen caught your arm.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked, concern lacing his eyes.

“Um… yeah. I think so.” You answered, wiping at the sides of your eyes with your knuckles.

“Come on, Y/n. That was your first emotional scene. It’s normal to have some issues with it. It’s just you and me now. You can tell me.”

You huffed, an exasperated sigh leaving your lips. “Yeah, uh… that was kind of hard.” You said, your bottom lip trembling.

It was strange, the scene ended, but a lump was still lodged in your throat caging the hurt and sadness that you felt while in character. You weren’t a noob on the show at this point, but it was true that it was your first stint as an actress where you had to get super emotional in a scene. Couple that with the hurried embrace that was intended to leave your character in a state of abandonment and disarray as Dean rejected her support, it seemed to bleed over even after the director called cut. When Jensen, or Dean at the time, took you into his arms, you had felt safe; but it ended as quickly as it came.

So, when he practically whimpered, “Hey, c’mere.” And opened his arms with a sorrowful expression, you were actually a little hesitant to step into his hold, fearing a tightly built damn would break.

But when he circled his arms around your waist tightly, a sense of relief and calmness flooded you from his warmth. A few more residual tears fell as you pressed your cheek into his chest, from nerves and sentiments previously spoken, as he gently rocked you from side to side.

“I know it can be hard, darlin’.” He whispered into your hair, his slight Texan accent making you smile. “Its almost like you’re really there.”

“It was.” You confided. “It was almost like…” you stopped yourself, biting your lip, feeling as though you were about to reveal too much. It’d been about a year that you had been hiding your feelings for your costar, and you didn’t want to blow it now.

“Almost like what, Y/n?” Jensen asked as you cursed yourself. He pulled away and cradled your face in his hands, “Tell me, sweetheart.” He pleaded.

You still had your lower lip pulled between your teeth as you look up at him through your tear stained lashes, his thumbs lightly brushing against the apples of your cheeks where tears still lay.

“It was almost like I was begging you not to leave me.” You confessed, a ball of nerves sinking into the pit of your stomach.

He smiled sweetly and wiped a few more tears, his large hands caressing your face soothingly. He placed a kiss to your forehead and professed, “You don’t have to worry about that, Y/n… ever.”

The memory caused a swirl of emotions as you hopped into the backseat of a large SUV sandwiched between Jared and Jensen with Misha riding shotgun. Cliff was transporting all four of you to the set location for the day, each of you having a specific scene to film in the house that was rented by the studio that was supposed to be yours and AU Dean’s home for the episode. Riding with the three of them was always filled with teasing and torturous pranking, usually on Misha, Cliff merely rolling his eyes with a small chuckle. Clint was following behind, carting some of the other actors and crew members in his car while you elected to share in the hilarity that was sure to ensue in the ‘J2M transport’.

When you piled in, Jared made sure to get in last and take up as much space as possible, practically smushing you and Jensen into one seat of the giant back row. Jensen threw his hands up as you were crushed into his side, a laugh bubbling in his chest at his friend’s antics.

“Good Lord, Moose. Do ya mind?” you giggled as he shoved one of his long legs into your space.

“I’m just trying to get comfortable.” He mused, smirking.

“I can see that… princess.” You cooed mockingly, to which he respondent by contorting his long body into an even smaller space so he could jap you with his knees, pushing you even further into Jensen’s frame.

Finally, as Cliff berated Jared that he needed to get going—although the smile never left his face—Jared settle into his seat, still taking up a good proportion of the available space. Jensen was still leaning against the doorframe with one arm leaning on the armrest of the door and the other splayed across the back of the seat. When you attempted to sit up strait instead of practically laying on him, his arm enclosed around you, caging you into his side as his hand rested on your shoulder.

You looked up at him with a curious smirk, to which he responded by grinning and throwing you a subtle wink. You sort of snuggled back into him, getting comfortable for the ride, only catching the end of a shared, playful look between Jared and Misha.

“So, you guys are coming to Rob’s party tonight, right?” Misha spoke, a bit too cheerfully.

“That’s tonight?” you asked, worry laced into your words.

“Yep. The fourteenth at 7.” He replied, holding up his phone to show you his Google calendar. “We’re getting out by 5 tonight.”

Jared started laughing sheepishly, what could only be described as a chortle, “Hee. Hee. Hee… you have a Google calendar. You nerd.”

“Hey, now.” He defended. “I accept that title proudly.”

Almost as though Jensen could sense your nerves, knowing that the two of you had promised to talk later, he ghosted his lips over the shell of your ear and whispered, “Don't worry… we’ll make time. I promise.”

You closed your eyes and slightly nuzzled into him further, feeling the trepidation dissolve. You began to feel confident that things were going a certain way… Jensen was endlessly flirting, if that was even the word, essentially holding you into the curve of his body in front of the three people he was closest to. Even if the words hadn’t been spoken, his actions were indicating what you had been hoping for the past two years. You two had kind-of-sort-of snuggled before, but this was definitely different. Your grandmother would’ve called it ‘canoodling.’

Before you could respond to his statement, Misha and Jared’s teasing got into a friendly debate, wavering your attention from the concern of your whatever-it-was that was blooming with Jensen as the began to swat at each other. Jared playfully poked at Misha from between the seats while Misha was helplessly batted his hands away.  

“Hey! Children!” you chuckled, sitting up and trying to separate them. “Don't make me turn this car around!” you said, using your best ‘mom’ voice, courtesy of Kim Rhodes.

Before long, you were pulling into the set location shortly after you had settled back into Jensen’s side.

As you received your direction, nerves bubbled slightly as you remembered that you would have to kiss Jensen once more. A wave of heat coursed through you as you were reminded of the feeling of his lips and the way his tongue moved against yours. Granted, as this was for film, there probably wouldn’t be as much of that this time, if there were any, but now with everything sparking to the surface, this kiss may be even more intimidating than rehearsal.

You were pulled to the side as they touched up your make-up and hair. Thankfully the rain had dissipated by now, and all that remained was early morning dew clinging to the leaves and branches of the trees.

You were led into a quaint cottage that had a red front door and a swing on the porch that overlooked a small garden and a large maple tree hovering off to the side. It was impressively picturesque. Quiet and small, but lovely; something you wouldn’t mind having one day.

You were handed a copy of the pages for the scene you were about to film and took a deep breath, eyeing Jensen out of the corner of your eye as he spoke to the director. He always seemed so calm and collected. His brows furrowed as he took calculated mental notes and expressed his wants for the act to unfold. There wasn’t a scene or a stunt that edged his nerves or that he didn’t give every ounce of talent to. You wished you had that ability—to make it so effortless and even lighthearted in the darkest of times on set.

You couldn’t help the way your lips curled at the sight of him, even as you twisted the pages you were given anxiously in your hands. The director gave you your queues and set instructions and positioned you on your first mark.

As you were taking a deep, calming breath (yeah, right), Jensen appeared in front of you.

“You doin’ alright, sweetheart?” he asked, ever present in ‘actor’ mode seeming as though all of his energy was now focused on the task at hand, while you were busy in your own mind and emotions.

You huffed uneasily and replied unconvincingly, “Y-yeah. Kind of.”

He placed his hands on your shoulders and kneaded the muscles that tensed under his touch before grasping the back of your neck gently and pulling you closer to him.

Jensen rested his forehead against yours and encouraged you to take a deep breath. Your eyes fluttered closed but your mind raced, as you feared the multitude of eyes that were trained on the two of you, waiting and wondering, but being in his powerful embrace made your surroundings disappear, even momentarily.

“Remember, Y/n… its just you and me, okay? You don't have to worry. I promise.”

You nodded at his reassurance and opened your eyes to his gaze, “Just you and me.”

He parted from you and took his mark, and the director called, “Action!”

“Hey, Dean. You’re home early! Did you have a good day?” you began, waltzing down the stairs into the living area of the foreign home, trying to seem as energetic as your alternate self, but one with no knowledge of monsters or things to hunt in the night.

Jensen slipped seamlessly into his characterization of Dean, a shocked and worried expression donning his features as he stood in the doorway just off of the porch.

“Y/c/n?” he sighed in disbelief.

Dean had just found his ‘home’ and tracked down what he and Sam believed to be the cursed object that sent them to this world. It wasn’t until he checked the mailbox and saw an envelope addressed to ‘Dean and Y/c/n Winchester.’

“Yeah?” you lightly chuckled, meeting him in the hallway and placing your hands on his chest. “Are you okay, honey? What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

The scene progressed with Dean standing in bewilderment and quizzing you on the historical events of the timeline he was thrown in to. When he asked your character how many years the two of you had been married, you entered into the lines you’d rehearsed.

“Dean? What’s going on? You’re scaring me.” You recited, choreographing your steps to land on the second piece of green tape.  

The two of you danced around each other in the small space, narrating the lines you were given for the scene until the arc was timed.

“I need you to destroy your grandfather’s pocket watch.”

“What?” you breathed in shock, “Dean, that's all I have left of—“

“I know. Really I do. I’m so sorry, but you have to do it or something bad could happen… to me. And to the rest of our family. You have to trust me, sweetheart.”

As you nodded cautiously, he stepped lightly on his feet to carry himself around the table in the dining room, a set of windows shining a dim light into the small space from behind him. As he rounded, he gave you a slight, subtle nod, as if encouraging you to be prepared for the dialogue to come.

“But listen, Y/c/n…before I go, there’s something I need to tell you; something I could never tell you before, in my other life, because—well, because I’m not brave enough…” he closed the distance between the two of you, tracing his hands along the backs of the chairs that were pressed into the table as he passed, but never removing his stare from your eyes. When he reached you, he traced his fingertips along your hair, careful to avoid disturbing your soft curls.

“I need to tell you how much you mean to me. I—“ he choked, pausing to swallow thickly and run his tongue along his lower lip. “I love you. I always have, from the day that we met. I don’t dare cross this line in my real life, but I don’t know that I’ll get another chance to tell you, Y/c/n. I love you. I’ve always loved you. And I need you to remember that, forever.”

You didn’t fail to notice his improvisation this time—and that he remembered to use the accurate name—your heart fluttered as he looked at you with such sincerity and a passion burning behind his eyes. As much as you wanted to indicate that you caught it in some fashion, whether it be a little change in your facial expression or throwing caution to the wind and pulling him into your arms, the large camera that was less than two feet from you in either direction reminded you of your current need to stay in character. The blocking continued, each camera operator moving in sync to capture each of you from different angles until they backed away slowly, preparing for you to retreat.

“Baby?” You whimpered, pulling from his grasp and backing away slightly. “I’m just going to go call Sam, okay? Maybe he can help.”

As you turned, you felt Jensen’s fingers thread through yours as the director shouted, “Hold!” indicating that you were to stay in your position as they adjusted angles and filters. As you were frozen in place, a light but purposeful brush of Jensen’s thumb back and forth across yours caused a chill to run up your spine, but if you looked in his eyes at this moment, all would be lost, so you continued to face the opposite wall.

“All right, action!”

Jensen’s—or Dean’s—hand gripped your wrist and spun you quickly against him, his hand flying to your cheek to hold you steady as his lips pressed to yours. You brought your hand to his neck when his mouth molded, relishing in the wistfulness as all sensation flooded your system and lifted you into oblivion.

He trailed the pad of his thumb across the apple of your cheek and pulled away slightly, allowing you to remain in his hold.

“Tell me you love me, Y/c/n. Please? I need to hear it, just once.”

Tears pricked at the sides of your eyes at the emotion of the line. Dean was so torn between being with the woman he secretly loved, in a world where he was safe, and being back in the universe he belonged in. The simplicity of his want was not lost.

You gripped his hand that was still on your cheek and let a tear fall, something that wasn’t scripted, “I do love you, D-Dean.” You stammered. “I do. I love you.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry for everything. I hope it all makes sense soon.” He whispered.

Dean placed one more kiss to your lips and retreated, leaving you standing with a bewildered expression and watered eyes. Sam met him out front and they hopped into a hotwired truck to attempt a spell to return them to the correct world, but not before Dean turned and glanced longingly at the small house with a wooden picket fence, a regretful and sorrowful smile on his lips.

You watched the playback with the director, made a few small adjustments to a few lines, and finished the scene.

You and Jensen sat beside each other on the front porch swing and took sips from the waters that were brought to you, both of you resting your elbows on your knees as you swayed.

“You know,” he spoke up after a few moments of silence, glancing down at his boots. “That was probably one of the hardest scenes I’ve filmed in a long time.”

Slightly surprised, you looked at him with confusion, “Really? Why is that?” you asked apprehensively.

“You remember when we filmed the soul bomb scene? How it felt real? Do you remember what you said?”

You nodded, “Of course I do, Jay.”

He directed his eyes to you, emeralds shining in the sunlight, “This time… I was begging myself not to leave you.”

<Series Masterlist / Part 9>

A/n 2: I received an anon ask when I was looking for fic ideas(see below) for a Jensen x actress!reader fic a while ago, but recently got hit with a spark of inspiration. This is based off of the song “What if I Said” by Anita Cochran and Steve Wariner and will be a short mini-series. Also there is a wife mentioned in some parts, but I purposefully left this person nameless as to not insinuate anything for Jensen’s real life.                                                                

Anonymous said: Hi! Just saw your post about looking for fic ideas. I’ve had this idea that I really like where reader is an actor on Supernatural and is friends with Jensen. They have a scene where they have to kiss or even just have to be right up in each other’s space and it makes them realize they like each other. It’s probably a common thing to write about, but I thought I’d ask anyway. Thanks!

[aion-rsa]

FrightFest 2020 Line Up Announced Including a Den Of Geek Panel

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

Much to no one’s surprise annual horror celebration FrightFest has had to move its line up to an online only event to keep horror fans safe during this time of real life horror. But the good news is, the gang has still managed to source heaps of exciting things to watch on the August bank holiday weekend, from home.

Now the full line up has been announced and it’s packed with world and UK premieres. Unfortunately for US readers, the movies are geo-locked and only able to be watched from the UK (though the quiz and Den Of Geek’s panel are both free and available to watch from anywhere).

Den of Geek Presents: Horror In Lockdown Panel – Sunday 30 August, 7pm UK time.

Hosted by Rosie Fletcher, UK Editor of Den Of Geek the panel of special guests from the industry will discuss how the horror genre has been affected by the global pandemic. What does the shape of horror look like now we’re all actually living in a real life horror film? How are the stories we want to hear affected by our changed world? And what might the genre look like on the other side? The panel will run live for 90 minutes, with a chance for viewers to ask questions at the end.

It’s free to attend and we’ll have some fascinating guests from the world of horror, come and join us!

The main festival runs from Friday the 28th – Monday 31st of August, with a preview night including a special quiz on Thursday 27th run by Mike Muncer from The Evolution of Horror podcast – the quiz starts at 8pm and will be hosted on the Evolution of Horror YouTube Channel. Following the quiz there’s the UK premiere of the extremely silly sounding Sky Sharks, which features Nazi zombie piloted killer flying sharks. It’s German, it’s in English and it stars Tony Todd.

Sky Sharks

Passes and tickets go on sale on Saturday 1 August and details on how to access the event and choose which films to watch are on the FrightFest website. Warning – you won’t be able to watch everything because some screenings will be concurrent and in different ‘screens’ just like at the live festival, to pack more in over the weekend, so you’ll have to pick between some titles.

Friday

There’s No Such Thing as Vampires – an American action-horror which sees teenagers run into vamps in a remote outpost. This one actually began filming in 2015 and had a long post production period – this is the world premiere.

12 Hour Shift – Comedy horror starring Angela Bettis and David Arquette following an drug addicted nurse and some black market organ dealers who plan a heist. It’s the UK premiere, having screened at the Tribeca Film Festival in April and it comes from director Brea Grant.

Triggered

Triggered – This is the UK premiere of this high concept South African horror thriller from director Alastair Orr. It sees a bunch of friends on a woodland camping trip wake up with suicide bombs strapped to their chest set at different times. Things get messy when they learn that they can take each other’s remaining time by murdering one another.

I Am Lisa – A female werewolf movie which is an homage to Richard Matheson’s I Am Legend, from Patrick Rea who made 2013 horror Nailbiter. This is the world premiere.

Saturday

The Columnist – comedy horror from The Netherlands which sees a writer who’s constantly trolled with abuse and death threats on social media decide to take revenge. This is the UK premiere.

The Horror Crowd – a US documentary from Ruben Pla celebrating the horror community in Hollywood with lots of genre favourite talking heads. This is the world premiere.

Blind

Blind – American horror thriller which sees a former actress blinded by surgery living in the Hollywood Hills supported by her partially sighted friend and mute personal trainer until a masked stranger invades her home. This is the UK premiere.

Dark Place – This is a Australian horror anthology focusing on five Aboriginal tales with  largely indigenous casts, focusing on post-colonial Aboriginal Australian history with a breezy 75 minute runtime. This is the UK premiere.

Don’t Click – Canadian internet horror which sees two friends zapped into a dank cellar by a vengeful porn website. Valter Skarsgård of the Skarsgård clan, stars. This is the world premiere.

The Honeymoon Phase – A couple short of cash checks into a testing programme that analyses relationships by monitoring couples in secluded smart homes in this US chiller with a tech bent that sounds Black Mirror-esque. This is the UK premiere.

They’re Outside – Emily Booth stars in this UK feature which sees a youtube psychologist attempt to coax an agoraphobic woman outside in 10 days until a local folk legend starts to become a reality. Found footage mixes with folklore in this adult fairytale. This is the world premiere.

Playhouse – A haunted castle in Scotland is the setting for this UK horror from debut directors Toby and Fionn Watts, which sees a horror writer attempt to create a macabre play to be set there, when supernatural forces begin to interfere. This is the world premiere.

Sunday

Two Heads Creek

Two Heads Creek – Cannibal comedy horror which sees a brother and sister escape post-Brexit Britain to seek their birth mother in a small town in Australia. This is the UK premiere of this Ozploitationer.

Aquaslash – Exploitation throwback to ‘80s slashers set in a waterpark where a murderer is messing with the water slides. This gory retro Canadian comedy is getting its UK premiere.

Skull: The Mask – This Brazilian horror sees Nazis discover an ancient artefact with supernatural powers which later pops up in Sao Paulo and possesses people to commit terrible crimes. Action horror getting its UK premiere.

Hall – Infection horror set in the hallway of a hotel where an airborne virus is causing carnage. Two women fight to survive and escape the hall in this Canadian mystery thriller that’s getting its world premiere.

Den of Geek Presents: Horror In Lockdown Panel – Sunday 30 August, 7pm UK time.

Clapboard Jungle: Surviving The Independent Film Business – documentary delving into the life of an independent filmmaker featuring interviews with a whole range of industry voices. This is the European premiere.

A Ghost Waits – second go round for this melancholy black and white indie which played FrightFest Glasgow earlier in the year, which sees a man doing up a house fall in love with the ghost that’s trying to drive people away from it. 

Monday

AV: The Hunt – This killer thriller from Turkey sees a young woman pursued by the men in her family trying to kill her for a perceived affront to their honour in a violent actioner which has drawn comparisons to Revenge. This is the UK premiere.

The Swerve – This slow burn psychological thriller sees a woman battling depression struggle to cope after a fatal car accident. It’s the feature debut from Dean Kapsalis and comes from the US to make its UK premiere.

Dark Stories – Another five part anthology, which is also a snappy 75 minutes, this time from France. These stories are packed with zombies, Djinn, evil dolls and more in old-school supernatural style. This is a UK premiere.

Blinders – modern social media era chiller from the USA about a guy who relocates to LA after a breakup and befriends a rideshare driver who starts to behave strangely. A psychological thriller getting its UK premiere.

Enhanced

Enhanced – Mutant sci-fi in the vein of X-Men which sees a former mutant hunter join forces with a mutant he’s captured to stop an uber mutant from taking over the world. A UK premiere. 

There’s also a shorts programme available on demand and Arrow Video will be presenting one of their podcasts with filmmaker and journalist Sam Ashurst and SFX guru Dan Martin

The post FrightFest 2020 Line Up Announced Including a Den Of Geek Panel appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[waynes-multiverse]

Plastic Hearts – Part 7

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, crack, drinking & drugs, smoking, angst, some violence, self-worth issues & jealousy, mentions of homewrecking, fluff if you squint

Word Count: 4.8k

A/N: Want me to make you fall for an asshole again? We’re on our way there... But for now, let’s torture Dean some more with tiny shit 😂

<< 6 || Spotify Playlist || Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

7. Another Brick In The Wall

Y/N has never been to Malibu, much less to a party at a Hollywood producer’s million-dollar mansion. The villa is huge, modern, and has an open floor plan. Everything is white, shiny, and luxurious, themed in gold and marble. In the living room hangs an original Lichtenstein and a Picasso, and there are drugs and alcohol as far as her eyes can see. Y/N, however, is more interested in the food selection. If she’s already here, she might as well freeload on carbs as much as possible, right?

There’s candy, snacks, and everything a human could possibly desire. It’s like Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory. God, it’s been forever since she could afford a fucking pizza.

Otherwise, she tries to stay out of Joanna’s way, which is easy since the blonde constantly hangs by the producer’s side, sharing drinks and small talk. Surprisingly, Y/N is having fun so far, chatting and giggling with Donna. The two of them have become quite close. The blonde is probably the sweetest person she has ever met in her entire life. Donna is new to this industry, so Y/N already feels protective of her, knowing what this business does to kindness.

So far, Y/N has actually made a few friends. Most of her time, she spends with Donna, Billie, and Meg. Billie is an excellent wrestling coach. They watch tapings of pros together after training and try to learn new moves. Thrice, Donna already took them out to live wrestling matches because her two brothers are professional wrestlers as well. That woman truly is a legacy.

“Hey, enjoying yourself, Strindberg?”

Y/N startles, her shoulders tensing when Dean’s deep, gruff voice booms behind her, feeling his hot breath brush her neck. His distinctive scent of leather and nicotine swarms her senses, immediately putting her on high alert. This week has been a lot better, but she hasn’t forgotten what happened and is still wary of the director. She’s certain, however, that he’s a giant fucking asshole. If a guy looks this cocksure handsome and has this much of an ego, he only can be. It’s fucking Hollywood, and Dean is nothing special. Y/N knows they’re all the same.  

“Yeah, it’s nice,” she smiles politely. She knows he can’t stand her – he’s made that pretty damn clear. But sometimes he gives her these weird looks she can’t place, the nefarious green orbs always spelling words she can’t decipher.

“You-, uh, you want a drink? You know, Cas has everything. It’s free booze.” Dean wears his signature teasing smile that’s often flirtatious in nature. Of course, a guy that constantly drives drunk and high doesn’t understand why she wouldn’t.

“I know. I’m fine,” Y/N replies with a small shrug and raises her glass of water.

Jo then suddenly hurries to the bar next to her and eagerly clutches a vodka bottle, oblivious to everyone around her. “Alcohol, thank God.”

Admittedly, she misses Jo and, most of all, their friendship. Without her, Y/N has no one in LA she can talk to. It used to be just them against the world, unstoppable to the end. They were a dream team – in every acting class and in life, understanding each other without words. Now, this stupid little wrestling show is all she has.

“Hey, so… are you having fun?” Y/N bravely asks her friend, a hopeful look spreading across her features. They have to start somewhere, right? How long can they go on like this and have bad blood between them? They’re sharing a set now, after all.

Nevertheless, Jo seems to think differently. The blonde’s head snaps to her with a scornful glare, “Are you fucking crazy? Just ‘cause we’re at a party together does not mean we’re okay. Talk to me again, and I’ll throw you over that fucking cliff outside.” Jo then snatches her booze and storms away.

“Drink now?”

Dean’s baritone voice startles her – again. Why is he still here? What does he want from her? Does he actually feel bad for what he did to her? Y/N doesn’t buy it, but when she glances at him, his sparkling green eyes offer her a sympathetic look as he holds out a glass of brown liquor for her.

Harshly swallowing the brimming tears down, Y/N shakes her head at him and forces another smile onto her lips, “No, uh, still good. Thank you, Dean.”

“Oh my God! Is that our director?! Dean!”

“Is that his sex tape?! Rawr, look at our boss!”

Y/N’s attention swerves to the giant TV in the living room as the girls excitedly gather around it. On the screen then appears Dean, sitting in a lounge chair and coolly smoking a cigar, a blue screen behind him and a sad-looking potted fern on his left.

“Shit, fucking Cas…,” Y/N overhears the director mutter next to her, clearly not seeming pleased about the video discovery.

Oh, now she hopes it’s fucking humiliating for him and focuses on the TV in anticipated amusement. Karma apparently does exist.        

“Hi, I’m Dean Winchester. I’m a director and an Aquarius. I’ve also been thirty-nine years old for the last four years…”

At that, Y/N arches a brow and makes eye contact with him for the first time since the clip began. Weirdly, he was already staring at her when she did. She usually tries to avoid him as best as she can, not wanting to get caught in that maniac’s crossfire again.

As a response to her silent question, however, he only gives her a sheepish shrug of his broad shoulders, his cheeks blushing the faintest degree. There’s also a bob of his Adam’s apple as she suppresses a shake of her head. How much fucking drugs does this guy do?

“I-, uh, I also enjoy sunsets, long walks on the beach, and frisky women… And, uhm, I guess at this point in my life, I’m just really looking for a partner I can stand, you know? Uhm, has a great smile… Just someone who doesn’t tear me apart like a vicious cunt every time I make a fucking mistake. You know, the opposite of my ex-wife…”

Is Y/N supposed to harbor sympathy for him? Because she still doesn’t. If anything, the asshole deserves this after what he did to her.

“Uhm, what else? Oh yeah, someone who’s fun, you know? Not a hypocrite… Under thirty. Yeah, that’s about it. Pick me. I’m lonely, and my cock works great… You think we should do another take, Cas?”

As the video ends, Y/N feels so much better about herself and her own pathetic life. The show was incredibly embarrassing. The girls can’t stop giggling and hollering, and the director’s bright pink cheeks and ears are her satisfying reward. With an inwardly pleased smile, Y/N uses the current commotion between the women to sneak away and tour the rest of the mansion in peace.

Jesus fucking Christ, Dean’s going to fucking kill Cas.

The director told the knucklehead to destroy that video months ago, his exact words being, “torch that motherfucker.” It was shortly after his second divorce – Dean was whiny, vulnerable, and lonely, alright? This was recorded after two bottles of scotch, and God knows what else.

Dean couldn’t even bear to watch that video, so he kept his eyes fixed on Y/N and tortured himself with her facial expressions. A tiny part of him pathetically hoped she might see it and find something she liked, but that obviously wasn’t the case. Dean can’t really blame her. And when that pathetic horror show finally ended, she wordlessly left the room. That was it – no smile, no eye contact, no nothing.

That hurt. A lot.

And while Dean knows he probably still deserved it, it’s exceptionally frustrating as he’d planned to finally give his favorite girl some attention tonight. It’s the perfect opportunity – since Barbie’s too busy with her vodka sippy cup. However, every attempt of his to bond with Y/N gets shot down or fails miserably. Offering her a drink suddenly becomes sleazy, even though he legitimately just wanted her to have fun and let loose. She’s a hard-working girl and had a rough week. She deserves it. But Y/N has never thought highly of him, to begin with, so it’s no surprise she constantly thinks the worst of him.

When there’s no sight of her for over an hour, Dean decides to search for her and simply force her to spend time with him. He’s just as tenacious as her and doesn’t give up easily, remember? Asking some of the girls if they have seen her, they tell him that Cas wanted to chat with her alone. That piece of information makes Dean’s lungs tighten and his heart race faster, his mind buzzing and becoming dizzy as he stalks through the house, praying he doesn’t find the pair with their pants down in one of the themed bedrooms somewhere. While Cas isn’t a creep, he’s still a guy with a dick, and Dean knows what it means when he picks a girl for a private chat. The director doesn’t know why it bothers him, but it does.

After getting lost a couple of times in Cas’s enormous mansion, he finally finds her with none other than the producer himself. His heart sings in relief when he spots them in Cas’s gallery room, fully clothed and silently admiring a piece of artwork. It’s a neon red sign that reads fucking Neon.

Yeah, Dean doesn’t get gallery art, either.

“Are you two idiots trippin’?”

Both their gazes land on him, a soft smile forming on Y/N’s lips. “No, we’re just appreciating artwork,” she laughs lightly, and it flows like the sweetest honey through his ears.

“Yeah, uh, I like art that… says exactly what it is,” Dean notes, swallowing his fluster, and strolls right between her and the producer, pushing them apart a bit. Playing buffer is the best he can do, alright?

“Hey Y/N, could you give Dean and me some alone time?” Cas requests.

Fucking Cas… Dean only found her a second ago, and the idiot decides to pick this exact moment to deliver his little feedback sandwich.

“Sure,” Y/N nods and then leaves the room without batting an eyelash at him. Dean wishes she could stay. He could use some support.

“So, what’s going on? What is this, the old Malibu ambush?” Dean questions rather grimly. “You’re gonna fill me with some drinks and then tell me you don’t like my vision?”

Cas chuckles uncomfortably and pats the director’s shoulder, taking a sip from his strawberry cocktail. “Oh Dean… I hired you to direct a wrestling show, which I came up with. It was my idea.”

“It was a seed of an idea. Your butler has probably ten Oscar-winning ideas,” Dean snaps.

“C’mon, Dean, leave Marv out of this,” Cas sighs in defense of his servant.

“I’m trying to elevate the format here,” the director explains more calmly.

“And that is so great, but when I said I wanted something different, I meant different, as in how Ms. Pac-Man is different from Pac-Man,” the producer says. “As in, the exact same thing but with a bow in her hair. Not set in the desert after a nuclear war.”

Needless to say, this conversation is not good for Dean’s blood pressure. Like all eccentric artists in Hollywood, he doesn’t respond to criticism very well. If you haven’t noticed already, he’s an extremely defensive person.

“Oh, I see… So, you don’t want story,” Dean scoffs, rolling his eyes in irritation.

“Okay, what about the Iron Sheikh, huh? What’s his story?” Cas asks him like a teacher, and it’s pissing him off.

“Who the fuck is that?”    

“He’s a fucking wrestler, Dean!” Cas shouts and flails his arms in disbelief, shaking his head at the director. “And all you need to know is that he wears a headscarf and hates America. That’s all there is! Bottom line, your ideas are just too complicated,” the producer tells him. Dean’s blood is fucking boiling. “We need to simplify – gorgeous ladies and wrestling. That’s the show.”

Dean’s jaw is tightly clenched as he grinds his teeth. “All due respect, but you hired me because I’m a professional. I know how to fucking do this. I’ve directed eight movies, two of which are taught in colleges, and four of them are banned in several states. I’m not some childish rich kid who thinks he knows everything.” Jesus fuck, that felt so good to get off his chest. “I need a fucking drink,” he mutters, visibly foaming, and bolts out of the room before he rips the guy’s throat out with his bare teeth.

Shortly after Y/N leaves Dean with the producer in the gallery, she runs into Cas’s butler Marv, who’s struggling with a very drunk Joanna in the labyrinth of hallways downstairs. The blonde can barely hold herself up on her own feet as she clutches a metal bucket in her arms. Her mascara is smeared all over her eyes like a raccoon, and her hair is a bird’s paradise.

The sight makes Y/N feel like absolute shit. How couldn’t it?

She did this. She knows it’s her fault that Jo is hitting rock bottom. It’s like Y/N is radioactive and just dragged her best friend down to the gutter with her. She needs to fix this. Any damage is her responsibility.

“Hey, I can help,” Y/N offers the butler with a warm smile. “I know where she lives. I can get her a cab.”

“She’s not my friend. You’re not my friend,” Jo slurs drunkenly, barely keeping her hazel eyes open.

“Thank you. That would be great,” Marv sighs in relief and then helps her bring Joanna to the huge gated driveway.

She waits with Jo until the cab arrives twenty minutes later, the blonde leaning on Y/N as support next to an impressive garden arrangement and a statue of a naked lady, most likely Greek. The former friends don’t say anything or even look at each other, heavy heartbeats and shallow breaths filling the silence. Only when she helps the blonde into the backseat and closes the taxi door do their eyes meet, and Y/N can see all the heartbreak and hurt she’s caused.

Dean was right all along. She’s a fucking homewrecker. She did a horrible thing to someone she loved, and she deserves everything she gets now.

Her mind wanders back to the director, only imagining what the producer might want to chat about with Dean. Cas didn’t seem too thrilled about the script during their table read. Y/N honestly can’t blame him. Like… it’s really fucking bad. On the bright side, though, Y/N thinks she’s still got a better character name than Jo’s Leather Virgin.

Cuntar all the way, right?

Even more surprising, Dean stuck to what he promised her. He wrote her a page-long monologue, and it’s actually good, taking the insane storyline into account. Y/N already knows every word of it by heart. And maybe playing the villain isn’t the worst; in fact, it’s fucking fun. She gets to do the craziest shit and shout lines no one else gets to say. She enjoys it more than she publicly likes to admit. Who knew?

Well, one person did know.  

So, either Y/N is completely insane, or the asshole director is a fucking genius after all.

Fumingly, Dean’s back rests against the wall on Cas’s front patio as he sucks on his cigarette and tries to calm down after his chat with the idiotic producer. Halfway through his third smoke and a full glass of expensive scotch, the front door swings open, and Dean’s eyes curiously dart to the commotion.

Y/N and Cas’s butler have a blackout-drunk Joanna slung around their shoulders, holding her supportively up as the blonde staggers on clumsy heels. Marv then disappears back into the mansion while the women wait for a cab.

Dean decides not to make them aware of his presence and sticks to quietly watching them. He figures the girls need the bonding time, although he’s sure the blonde won’t remember any of it. But judging by Y/N’s guilty facial expression as she helps her drunk ex-bestie into the car, he knows she surely will.

Admittedly, Dean feels awful for her at this point. Partially because he knows he played some role in her misery. And yeah, she did a shitty thing, but enough is enough. The punishment has to stop eventually. The worst part is he knows Y/N’s not a bad person. She isn’t scum like the rest of this city. She isn’t like him, even if fucking Hollywood is trying its best to drag her to the gutter.

“You should forgive yourself,” Dean speaks up and takes a step out of the shadows and into the orange glow of the patio light as she saunters back inside.

Y/N startles like usual when she hears his voice. He always feels a bit torn whenever she does that. On the one hand, he enjoys that he has that kind of effect on her – the one that makes her shudder. On the other hand, he’s not sure if her reaction is necessarily the best for him in the long run.

“I’m a homewrecker. I wrecked someone’s home,” the young actress replies with a look full of acceptance, unshed tears glazing her eyes. She knows what she did wrong and is willing to pay her penance.

“Yeah, but even if Barbie doesn’t forgive you, you should still forgive yourself,” Dean maintains and gives her a shrug of his shoulders, “You know, first steps… We all do shit we shouldn’t do sometimes.”

“Right,” she nods, her gaze locked on the pavement beneath her white sneakers, and he can tell she won’t be taking his advice anytime soon.

“You want a drink now?”

“No, uh, I still have to drive,” Y/N replies with her usual polite smile.

“You know, Cas has a lot of rooms in that castle. You can just sleep here and enjoy yourself,” Dean says and bites his tongue immediately after, running a hand through his blond locks. “Shit… I’m not trying to come off as a creep, alright? I promise there’s nothing in your drink and no one sleeping in your bed. You’re completely safe here.”

What the fuck is he even saying? Is he assuring her he won’t rape her?! Dear fucking God…

Fortunately, Y/N only snorts in amusement. “No worries. You were pretty clear I’m not your type, remember? I know you’re not trying to fuck me. It’s cool, Dean... I’m just not a big partying and drinking person. That’s all,” she shrugs casually. “I’ll take a smoke, though.”

Dean’s ears are ringing, his heart pushing blood faster through his veins as it twists like a wet towel that you’re trying to dry. There are so many things that bother him about her statement he can’t even count them all. His mouth goes so dry his voice sounds hoarse when utterances flow out as he offers her a cigarette. “Yeah, uh, sure.”

Taking the smoke, she puts it between her ample lips. He tries to keep his hand steady as he offers her a flame, the red embers glowing in the dark and illuminating her gorgeous face. Y/N mumbles a “thanks” and then silently leans against the wall, her gaze drifting to the cliffs in the distance before her eyelids close. Dean can tell she’s focusing on the faint sounds of the ocean waves now, wishing she could get swallowed by the sea. He knows because he’s been there several times as well. It’s his favorite place to be, in fact.

Thoughtfully licking his lips as he watches her, there’s so much he could say and even more he could do, but nothing will come out; his arteries remain frozen. Admitting the truth only makes him more immoral. Giving her a hug seems downright inappropriate. And kissing her just sounds like absolute lunacy.

“Uhm, I’m gonna go back inside,” Dean says with a subtle clear of his throat to catch her attention, only that it doesn’t. Her eyes open but fixate on the stars that illuminate the horizon. “You’re gonna be okay out here?”

Soft and quiet, her head bobs before a tear escapes her eye and rolls down her cheek, her lips pressing tightly together as she holds the dam.

It breaks him to see her like this. So much so that, on his way back inside, his palm gently pats her shoulder and lingers just long enough for her to know that he cares. That single touch doesn’t come without consequences, though, a jolt of electricity awakening every numbed nerve in his body.  

Dean has played the game of love and life long enough to know that the strange feelings that are overtaking his body, mind, and soul are fucking butterflies. But like all transient things, those will fly away eventually, too. He just has to wait it out until they do and keep his distance from her. The hardest pill to swallow about this whole debacle, though, is that he’d actually go for it. He would’ve made a move days ago – if it weren’t for Jo’s silly vendetta. Because if there’s one thing Dean knows, it’s that he can safely flirt with every single woman in there, just not with the one he truly wants.    

As Dean strolls inside, the girls are jumping around the living room, giggling in silly costumes as Cas offers them different props and hats. As soon as Ruby spots him, she hops onto the couch in a leather corset and a whip.

“Boss, look! Cas gave us all a makeover and outfits for our new characters. Watch this,” the brunette says and then slaps the whip against her flat palm, twisting it in her fist. “I’m a bad, bad girl who likes to party! And Daddy’s been a bad, bad boy. Come here, Daddy!”

Fucking Cas…

“What the fuck is going on here?” Dean snaps and glares instantly at the producer with his question, ignoring the Madonna clone dominatrix.

“Costumes, characters…,” Cas tells him excitedly. “This is what I’ve been talking about.”

“You guys look fucking ridiculous,” Dean scoffs. The only one who isn’t dressed up in an awful costume is Meg, and that’s saying something.

“I’m a Voodoo Witch, Dean,” Billie says and sassily arches an eyebrow at him, “At least now I have a part.”

These back-stabbing fucking women…

“We’re just exploring some ideas,” Cas says in a soothing attempt.

“We don’t need ideas. I have ideas,” the director grits, his jaw tightening. If Cas doesn’t stop opening his fucking mouth soon, Dean’s hands are going to firmly wrap around the producer’s throat and squeeze till there are no more words left to spill out.

“Dean, your ideas are so complicated! Just look at Ruby. She’s clearly a sexy party girl,” Cas continues with the same enthusiasm and then hands the brunette another prop. “Here, uh, try it with the paddle.”

“It’s like you really see me,” Ruby breathes with a loving look, her hand greedily reaching for her new toy.

“Don’t take the paddle,” Dean growls with a stern look.

“Take the paddle,” Cas encourages her.

“Don’t take it!”

Ruby looks between the men in confusion, “Who do I listen to? Who of you is in charge?”

“I am,” Dean’s voice roars through the room, sending Cas a thundering glare, his nostrils flaring. No one ever questions his fucking authority, least of all a childish clown.

However, just as he’s about to rip Cas’s goddamn head off, Y/N saunters into the living room, her eyes taking a bemused scan of the women before her face falls in disappointment and upset. “Are you guys holding a meeting without me?”

Oh Strindberg… Unfortunately, Dean doesn’t have the nerves nor the time to deal with her desperation at that moment.

“Oh, yes! Y/N, perfect!” Cas eagerly hops to her side and suggests, “She’s clearly a farmer’s daughter… girl-next-door type.”

What happens next, though, is the most surprising thing of all. Y/N takes a step back from the producer and one closer to Dean, stubbornly crossing her arms over her chest. “No, I am Cuntar, a vision of hideousness and despair,” she announces proudly. Dean’s heart is proud, too.

“See? She gets it,” Dean insists and tries not to get fucking hard when Y/N sends him a nod that says, ‘Don’t worry, boss. I got your back.’ She’s protecting his vision, and it makes the goddamn butterflies in his veins multiply like a biblical plague.

“What?! Dean, no one is going to look at her and see hideousness or ugly,” Cas points out the truth, shaking his head vigorously. “She’s as sweet as apple pie and ice cream. She’s beautiful!”

Fucking Cas… With one sentence, he just ruined a week of Dean’s gruesome and torturous work. He had to pay a high price to make Y/N the fucking best she is.

A few things happen then that undeniably explain the next sequence of actions.

First and foremost, Dean’s simmering blood reaches the boiling point when Cas compliments her. Not because it isn’t so obviously true, but because it’s not fair the producer gets to say those words when Dean fucking can’t. Because now, Cas gets her cute smile and the soft, pink blush of her cheeks as a reward while she still fucking hates Dean and everything he stands for.

It’s his tolerance limit. So, it shouldn’t be surprising that his glass of scotch gets flung across the room, only missing the producer’s head by an inch and smashing the giant wall-mounted TV instead.

“Well, I hope you’re happy, Dean,” Cas huffs, throwing his arms in the air as the electronic device shatters into pieces, littering the marble floors. “That was expensive!”

“Yeah? Tell your mommy to buy you a new one and take it out of your allowance,” Dean spits. “I didn't take this job to be bossed around by some wannabe child producer who takes fake phone calls at the Beverly Hilton.”

“Those phone calls were real!” Cas shouts back. “And you took this job because no one else wanted to hire you. News flash, Dean! You’re cranky and not easy to work with!”

“Fuck you! I’m fucking done with this shit show,” Dean huffs angrily.

Walking away is the best decision he could ever make. Maybe it’s even a blessing in disguise.

“Dean! Dean! Wait!”

Just as he dramatically storms through the big front door in a grand exit worthy of his ego, none other than Y/N’s honey-sweet timbre hauls him from his spiraling mind. If it were any other voice, he would’ve just kept walking, gotten into his Baby, and driven off – but it had to be fucking Strindberg that ran after him.

“Are you leaving?” Once she has caught up to him, she looks up through her thick eyelashes, her face close to bumping into his puffed chest.

“Why? You got notes for me too, huh? I know you’re on the idiot’s side,” Dean barks.

“No, I’m-, I’m on your side,” Y/N stammers and coyly meets his gaze, swallowing lightly.

“Really? You?” Dean cocks an eyebrow in disbelief. “You don’t even wanna play the villain, and I know you hate my script, too. I’ve watched your face.”

“You’ve watched my face?”

Shit.

“Well, not just yours,” he defends, grunting, “I wanted to see everyone’s reaction, okay?” That’s a good excuse, right?

Y/N looks at him with sympathy in her sparkling eyes as if she knows that the day was supposed to be a joyous occasion for him. She offers him a small shrug, “I just don’t want the show to fall apart. It’s all I have right now.”

“Oh God,” Dean sighs loudly, rolling his eyes back into his head, and runs a palm over his freckled face. Why does she have to be so fucking sad?

“Dean, you’re the director. You have the vision,” Y/N smiles softly and finds his gaze, hypnotizing him with a set of googly eyes and an irresistible pout. “We respect you. We need you… I-I need you.”

“Your acting is getting better,” he mutters and bites back the smile that painfully wants to form.

“Because you’re a formidable director,” Y/N replies and gifts him a tiny smile. It’s fucking beautiful before she tenderly starts to chew on her lower lip, driving him absolutely fucking nuts. “But maybe Cas is a tiny bit right, to–”

“No, dear God, don’t say that,” Dean groans as he feels the stinging coolness of her knife in his heart.

“Look, I’m just saying… maybe we need to lower the bar a little, you know? You’re just too much genius for us commoners,” Y/N says innocently, and albeit he knows he’s being manipulated, he still can’t resist blushing at her praise. “But you were right. I like playing the villain. I’m a homewrecker,” she admits matter-of-factly and sends him a soft smile. “But I don’t get to play any of these roles without you.”

Fucking shit… Is he really going to do this stupid show for her? If it weren’t for those fucking butterflies, he would’ve hit the highway by now – and he already would’ve fucking kissed her, too.

“Goddammit,” the director sighs frustratedly and then wordlessly shoulders past her back inside the mansion, searching for the producer instead of doing something insanely stupid that he can’t reverse.

8. Hot For Teacher

I guess that’s what they call progress in show biz 😝

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[1000roughdrafts]

When Reality Starts to Falter - Part 11(finale)

Pairings:  Jensen X actress!Reader, Dean Winchester X hunter!Reader Ex!Jared X Reader

Warnings: angst for Dean X Bell(reader), fluffy goodness for Jensen X Reader, and a groveling!Jared, 

Word Count: 1895

A/N: This one is kind of short, I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting it to end this way, but things just started happening and it all felt right. Also, for this to all make sense, let’s pretend that Richard Speight Jr. has been a director since the beginning ;) 

Masterlist Part 10 

With the intention of suppressing the tears that climb up the back of your throat, your eyes seat on Dean’s neck, watching the lump move with his words but letting them bounce off of your ears and fall to the ground. Yet, as if they are knives, the words cut through your shield like it isn’t there at all, “please talk to me,” he mutters, shaking his head. 

His hands rest between his knees as he sits leaning against the concrete wall in a dark alley. With merely a racking grumble from you, he stands to get closer, “Bell, come on. You know I’m not one to get on my knees and - and start begging, but damn it -” the words drain from him with  no restrictions, bypassing all of his internal warnings and silencing every alarm on their way out - “you gotta let me in. You have to let me help you,” he weightily hums, slowly bringing a hand to your arm. 

Rejecting him by way of turning around, the tears finally break through in silence, “no, Dean,” you croak, bowing your head. “I’m sorry, I... can’t.” 

Gripping onto your arms, he twists you around to face him, bringing your attention to his drooping face. “Why?” His words are more strict now, but lacking the confidence he had before, like he’s fighting with himself behind the scenes. 

“It’s - it’s too much,” you belt out, looking up at him with unblinking eyes. 

His face cramps, “what?” The breath he lets out stokes the fire in his chest. Letting go of your arms he turns around, careful not to burn you with his words, “Crowley got to you, didn’t he? That son of a -” 

“No! Dean,” you say, shaking your head, but replaying Crowley’s vicious threats in your mind. “I just don’t know how much longer I can keep up with this,” you stutter, eyes shifting down to the static, grey concrete, “the visions, the circus, Crowley, the Djinn...” 

As he flips around, your eyes meet with his and the words roll off of your tongue without permission, “lying to you, keeping secrets.” As soon as it was said, you wanted to take it back. 

You know how he hides behind impassivity, but the story is as old as time. Written all over his face is a blend of confusion and heartache that ferment inside of him. “Secrets?” he says, voice calmer than anything said prior. 

“I - I,” you sputter out, not quite sure what to offer given that the words were never meant to surface - not yet. Filling with a roaring heat, despite the brisk wind that rolls through, your cheeks brighten and flush. 

“Bell,” Dean urges. As you cringe away from the name, he takes small steps towards you. Head tilting to the side as his lips fold down, his eyes lose whatever spark they had left. With a single sentence, you had distinguished the fire that was smoldering in him, replacing it with an icy stupor. “Lying about what?” 

You throw your night chilled hands onto your face in an attempt to abate the emotional fever that grows over your body. You’re unsure of how long they were there before he pulls your arms down to your sides. 

Holding your wrists firmly, he almost forces you to keep eye contact with the way his cheeks and eyes swell, “what aren’t you telling me? Are you saying that - that this-” lifting a hand, his finger wags between the two of you. 

With your free hand, you grip onto his and bring it to your chest, “no, listen,” you say, sighing through the words. Closing your eyes, you concede, “I’m just... not who you think I am.” 

“What?” A bitterness flows through his words that don’t feel entirely placed on you, and you know as well as anyone that no matter what is done to him, Dean will always take partial, if not all, blame. 

You shake your head, opening your eyes to face the blazing that returns to his, “and you’re not either. I will explain everything to you. Please - please, you have to trust that I did this, all of it, for the right reasons,” you gasp, clutching onto his shirt as if it’s the rope keeping you from falling down the face of a mountain. Relaxing into a deep breath, you release your grip, “please tell me you trust me.” 

He only nods, keeping his frown as his eyes bounce on your features. 

Regaining composure, you soften your voice. “None of this is real,” you say, lifting your hand to stroke the tear from his cheek. “What you saw - when the Djinn had you - it wasn’t a dream at all,” you say, shaking your head delicately.

“My name is Y/N,” you say slowly, “I’m - I’m an actress, and -” you look at the lines on your hands, suddenly feeling silly about ever confusing the two in the first place. 

Jensen had suggested that with the show’s ending, exposing the ‘truth’ to Dean and Sam would make for an interesting finale twist, as well as helping you to find some closure in what was once called an ‘issue’. 

“I’m not the only one who knew,” you say, voice cracking. “Gabriel,” you say, letting out a small laugh. “Richard is his real name, and he’s a very smart man,” you say, clicking your tongue. “He knew how to create a world in which we wouldn’t know who we were, and had to fight monsters - said it would make for one hell of a show, and when I found out the truth - he decided it was time to give it up,” you sigh, shrugging lightly. “Game over. We can be happy like you saw in your dream. We can smile, and life and enjoy all the things we can’t in this world.” 

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “No, this is just another dream isn’t it? I’m somewhere tied up, getting the life sucked out of me and I’m gonna die if I do’t wake up, right?” he shouts. 

“No, no,” you say, resting a hand on his chest, and using the other to pull him closer, “listen, this is real,” you say, opening your body to point towards the glow of the lights. “Open your eyes, Jensen,” you whisper. “This is what is real,” you say, watching as his eyes go wide in understanding. 

The camera pans away from the two of you, and exposes the set and crew. You step towards the lights, focusing more on your steps than your surroundings. When it occurs to you that the director had called for the scene to end, you feel Jensen at your side. Letting the emotions from the scene out in one breath, you glance up at him, trying to remind yourself of the tips you’d received from his friend yesterday. 

Jensen must have taken notice of the way your eyes went wide and the soft gasp that punched it’s way out as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you into him; a gentle and subtle way of bringing you back to reality - where you intend on staying forever. 

The room erupts into applause and cheer, bringing your attention to the rest of the crew. Mark and Misha walk towards you, Jared and a few directors not far behind them and all wearing big smiles. 

A feeling of accomplishment and euphoria flows through you, brandishing a smile on your face as the group of people who had quickly become your family pulls you into a hug. Letting go, you accept the congratulations and pats on the back as they all filter away all while keeping your smile. Until you see Jared, his eyes planted on you. 

When he sees you looking at him, he uses his hands to signal that you step towards him. Hesitantly, you follow him to a somewhat secluded area of the set. 

“She said you talked to her,” he starts in a hush whisper, looking around for listeners. Stepping forward, he bows his head and keeps his voice quiet, “you told her you lied?” 

You scan his face for any sign of censure. Instead, his voice is chipper, almost delighted or thrilled that you had lied in his favor. You lower your head, focusing on your feet while collecting your thoughts. 

Looking back up at him, you shrug,  “I’ll tell you what I told Jensen,” you sigh. Opening your mouth, your jaw dangles and you struggle with the words, “I - I,” shaking your head, you look back at your feet. 

“Thank you,” he says, cutting into the silence. He lays a hand on your arm, pulling your eyes up to his. A heat fills you, and you almost regret making the decision to call her. 

The way he speaks to you now makes it sound like he expected you to fix things. Taking a deep breath, you keep quiet, and hope for him to just leave things as is and walk away. But he steps closer, “look, Y/N,” he sighs. “I’m sorry. I was and have been extremely unfair to you,” he shakes his head. “I realize now that I don’t deserve this chance you’ve given me and I certainly never deserved you,” he says. 

Your eyes meet up with his as you let out a long breath. Unsure of what to say, your mouth gapes open, small and imperceptible sounds escaping in the absence of a well-formed sentence. 

By now, Jensen was approaching you slowly. Eyebrows folded down into a frown, he places a hand on your back. You let out another breath in relief. Jared shifts his eyes to Jensen, letting his face relax somberly as he holds a hand out to him, “Jay,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, man. I have been-” 

“Don’t apologize to me, man. Apologize to her,” Jensen says without relenting the anger in his face and keeping a hand on your back. 

“I - I have,” Jared says in a breath and looking over at you.  “Y/N, I am incredibly sorry. I was acting irrationally and without thinking. Can I ask-” he pauses, taking a slow breath. “Can I ask why you lied to her?” 

Looking up at Jensen, you lean into him. “One of the most painful things I’ve ever been through was getting cheated on,” you say, focusing back on Jared and building confidence as you go, “I was really mad at her for a long time. But I realized that the only person I should have been angry with was you. Even though I really, really wanted her to hurt like I was hurting, it wouldn’t solve anything.” 

Nodding away, Jared attentively listens to you as you speak. Jensen’s hand has moved from your back to your hip. Wrapping your arm around his torso, you look into his sparkling eyes and smile before focusing back on Jared. “I’m not angry anymore. I’ve moved on,” you shrug. “And all I want from this is for you to leave me alone.” 

He nods again, looking between the two of you before walking away. Rotating around to face Jensen, you bring your other arm around and pull him into a hug.

“Let’s go home,” he says with a smile as you pull away. 

“Home?” you say, eyes lit with ardor and confusion. 

“Home,” he smiles. 

<3 Tags; 

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[katymacsupernatural]

Love is in the Air Chapter 15

Jared Padalecki x Reader

1200 Words

Story Summary: Jared is a Flight Attendant, one of the best in the country. Y/N is one of the hottest Hollywood stars. Both intensely attracted to each other, but prejudices get in the way. Can Jared get past his idea of how Y/N should be? Can Y/N show Jared that she’s not the normal actress, but one who is shy and down to Earth, giving them a chance at love?  

Catch Up Here: Masterpost

Waking up in Jared’s arm felt right, and you wanted nothing more than to cuddle deeper in his embrace and pretend that the rest of the world didn’t exist. That he didn’t have to travel to China, and you didn’t have to finish your film. A part of you wanted to board a plane to some deserted island where the two of you could be alone.

But the ringing of your phone on the nightstand pulled you from that daydream. Groaning, Jared snuggled his face deeper against your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

Closing your eyes, you willed the phone to quit ringing, but it started up once again. Yawning, you reached for it, picking it up and answering it. “Hello?”

“Y/N, where are you?” Your assistant Maddie screamed into the phone.

“In bed. We aren’t filming until late tonight,” you answered her, wondering what had gotten into her.

“Stay there! Don’t come to the set. They’ve canceled filming for today,” she spoke quickly. Pulling away from Jared you sat up, wide awake now.

“Why, what’s going on?” You asked as you slipped out onto the patio of your hotel room, letting Jared sleep a little longer.

“So, that man that tried to sponsor your last movie? Tony? Well, he’s here, and he’s causing a ruckus. The director asked me to keep you away until it’s safe.”

“Tony’s there?” You repeated, your eyes widening and your heart rate picking up a little bit. You had seriously hoped you would never see or hear that man ever again. But it looked like your good luck was faltering.

“He is,” Maddie confirmed. “And he’s in a horrible mood. They’ve already called the police on him. So stay away today, but let me know if you need anything.”

“Of course. And thank you for the heads up,” you hung up the phone, amazed at the nerve of that man.

“What was that about?” Jared asked, leaning against the door, making you jump in surprise.

“I don’t have to go into work today,” you explained, coming up and wrapping your arms around his waist, laying your head on his chest. “Too bad you still leave for China today.”

“In two hours,” he said, glancing at his watch. “But why don’t you have to film today?”

“It’s not really a big deal,” you started to say, but then you thought better of it. “Jared, my assistant called. I guess Tony is there, stirring things up.”

“Tony? That bastard that harassed you?” Jared’s entire body tensed up against yours, his voice going deeper. “What the hell does he think he’s going to do?”

“Get arrested by the police,” you sighed. “They just want to keep me away for safety, and I’m thankful. By tomorrow there will be a restraining order that won’t let him come close to set, and we won’t have to worry about him again.”

“I don’t trust him” Jared grumbled. “His pride is hurt, and he’s not going to back down easily, even with a restraining order. I just wish I didn’t have to leave soon. I hate leaving you here unprotected.”

“We have security on set,” you reminded him. “And all I’ll be doing the next two weeks is traveling between there and this hotel room.”

“Make sure you have someone with you at all times. Please,” he pleaded. “Maybe your assistant can bunk with you for a while? Until we know he’s not down here anymore.”

“Jared, I’ll be fine!” You argued. “I can handle myself. And besides, I don’t see him trying anything after today.”

Jared still didn’t seem convinced, so you reached up, brushing the hair back from his face, standing on your tiptoes so you could brush your lips over his. “We only have a short time left together before you leave. Let’s not spend it worrying. I can think of something else that’s much more enjoyable.”

“You’ll call me and let me know you’re safe? Every night?” He asked, his beautiful hazel eyes searching your face.

“Of course,” you assured him. “By the time you’re ready to come back, you’ll probably be wanting a break from me.”

“Never,” he answered, sweeping you up in his arms and carrying you back into your hotel room.

Waving goodbye to Jared as he climbed into the Taxi, you wished he didn’t have to go. You wanted him by your side, especially with the threat of Tony looming in the distance. But you were a strong, independent woman, and you didn’t want Jared worrying about you while he was halfway across the world.

Stepping back into your room, you picked up your phone, calling Maddie back. “How are things there?” You asked her, sitting on the edge of your bed, part of you wondering how you were going to spend the rest of your free day.

“I was just going to call you,” she squealed. “Tony’s disappeared, and no one knows where he is!”

“What do you mean? I thought the police were showing up? That he was going to be arrested!”

“They did, but by the time they showed up, he had vanished, and they’re still looking, but they haven’t found him yet,” she answered. “Y/N, keep your door locked! The police are on their way over there, but we don’t know how long he’s been missing.”

“This hotel is booked under a different name. There’s no way he could find me here,” you assured her, even though you weren’t so sure.

“Y/N, please,” Maddie pleaded with you.

“Fine, the doors already locked, and the lights are off. I promise I won’t answer the door until you tell me it’s okay,” you placated her before hanging up the phone.

“You forgot to lock the patio door,” Tony spoke up from the corner of your room, seated in one of the chairs. “It wasn’t easy to figure out which room you would be in. After all, a big star like you would get the fanciest hotel room closest to the filming area.”

“Tony, what are you doing here?” You asked him, taking a step back towards the door. “The cops are on the way, and you’re just making things worse.”

“I’m here to make things right,” he growled, standing up. “You ruined my life! I can’t do anything now!”

“That was your fault, not mine,” you told him, ready to race for the door when you noticed what was being held in his hand. Pointed right at you. The gleaming barrel of a pistol.

Jared/Sam Tags: @a-girl-who-loves-disney @aj-reuth @barbedwireandbubblegum @demonic-meatball @depressed-moose-78 @imagine-inc @kay18115 @lady-phoenix-of-tardis @musicalsarelove @lovesamwinchester @mereka18 @sadmac356 @shadowhunter7 @sizzlingbearpolice @sortaathief @unicornblood4ever @winchesterslibrary

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