#idk how i can draw that magazine cover last year but produce this...

[1000roughdrafts]

When Reality Starts to Falter - Part 2

Summary: 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.

A/N: Posting this 2 hours early because I’m having SO much fun with this so far! Couple things I have to note before we continue: 

When dating Jared, Y/N was an actress on a television show I ‘created’ specifically for this fic called Code Red, as a character named Pamela Banks. 

Your characters name on Supernatural is Bell. 

Italics are the Supernatural scenes, or YN’s thoughts - I hope it’s not too difficult to discern

A/N 2: Uhm, also...I don’t really know where the goofball!Misha thing came from, but I made myself laugh when I wrote it - so you get to be a victim to that, too.

Pairings: Ex!Jared X actress!Reader, Dean Winchester X hunter!reader (and single!Jensen X actress!reader in the future)

Warnings: swearing, supernatural themed violence/action, confusing!Jared (idk how else to put that-you’ll see), general angst, angst/snubbing from Jared, fluffy support from Jensen

Word Count: almost 1.8k

Part One Master List

Opening the passenger door of the Impala, the breeze wraps itself around you in a cordial, tepid hug. You sweep your feet out and stand up, adjusting your outfit. It’s eerily dim. The sun’s reflection on the clouds is the only true light offered to you as you stare in horror at the people running from the fairground’s entrance.

A siren is blaring just loud enough that parents are covering the ears of their children. A strange feeling sits in your gut while you watch the police guide the families out into the parking lot. Sam coasts to your side and places your FBI badge into your hand, “you ready?”

His eyebrows raise as you look up at him, only mumbling a reply. “You’ve been pretty out of it the last few days and-”

“I’m fine, Sam,” you snarl. Forcing a foot in front of you, you pedal towards the entrance and push through the mob. With his height, it doesn’t take very long for Sam to catch up to you. The conversation between the two of you is choppy as you walk against the flow of traffic, and attempts at masking the siren’s screaming.

Since Dean left with Jody and Bobby to work a ‘small, quick’ case, Sam had been nipping at your heels, pleading for a case much like a dog holding a leash in it’s mouth and nuzzling at their owner.

Small, you think, recalling the story Dean had relayed to you about his last encounter with a Djinn. You bite the inside of your lip in worry, unable to take your mind off of him, hoping that he’s okay.

It’s been a few days since you heard anything and when you asked Sam about it he’d shrugged it off. Said something about how he’s a good hunter, and Jody and Bobby would never let anything happen to him. You shake away the thoughts.

As you get closer to a tent in the back of the circus, you see a man wearing a lousy cape and a top hat. You scoff at his wanna-be magician appearance. Initiating a stand-off, you fold your arms and halt to a stop. Sam, apparently not paying attention, slams into you. Grunting irritably, you lurch forward and catch your balance with one, agile step.

Immediately and aggressively, you confront the caped man. “Where is it?” you shout. “I know it was you. I had visions of it!”

Sam jerks his head in your direction, giving you a concerned glance. You ignore it, figuring you would now have to explain sooner rather than later, but press in on the suspect. The ‘magician’ laughs, taking a step forward.

Shrugging, he slows his drawl, “if you saw it then why don’t you tell us where it is?” he asks in the most cynical and creepy of tones.

“Freakin’ bastard,” you spit and lunge for him.

You don’t feel Sam’s hands on your arms, gripping firmly to hold you back, until you’re moving in place. You wiggle around in his clutch, “Sam! What the Hell are you doing?” The magician’s bouncing laugh riles a fury inside of you.

“Not. Here.” Sam whispers between clenched teeth into your ear. You elbow him  in the stomach. He grunts out a wheezy breath, but doesn’t relent his grip.

“Let me go, damn it!” you cry, and only when the magician disappears does Sam let you out of his grasp. You fall to the ground, growling at him. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice the forensics team have pulled up a brown tarp.

Brushing off their confounded expressions you focus on the patch of packed dirt that was underneath it, with what look like five gopher holes. They are small and organized in a strange, zig-zag pattern. You tilt your head at them in confusion. A gasp escapes your throat, causing you to choke on your breath.

You leap up and grip onto Sam’s arm, ignoring his prior assault as a new obstacle comes to light. “I think these are decoys, Sam. Uh, think like model trains that replicate a real one. There are bombs, I think, scattered across town.”

You’re on the brink of hyperventilating, but suck in a deep breath. “I saw them in a dream last night. We have to figure out how this correlates and stop it!” You push off of Sam and begin running back to the entrance, yelling out, “call Dean!”

“Dream?” Sam questions. “Bell! Where are you going?” He cups his hands around his mouth as he calls out.

Without looking back, and not particularly bothered whether he hears you or not, you say, “to find Crowley.”

“And cut!” The director’s voice brings you back to reality. “Wonderful job, everyone. How about lunch?”

You hunch over, dropping your hands to your knees to catch your breath. Right. Lunch. Acting.

The reason you dropped out of the media wasn’t entirely because of your less than amicable break-up with Jared. In fact, that didn’t even make it onto the list. You had a ruinous habit of taking things on, getting too engrossed and becoming one with your character in the worst ways imaginable.

When you played a supporting role on Code Red, you completely flew off the handle when the main character, your best friend, died in the season finale. The entire crew, from the producers to hair and make up to your co-stars, applauded the authenticity of your characters reaction and threw a celebratory bash to commend and treasure your work.

Fans went crazy, you won awards. It was in the news, in the tabloids. You were named Actress of the Year by one of the most popular drama television series magazines. Your expeditious rise to the top of fame was torturous to say the least. Only your agent and Jared knew the truth. You had lost grip on reality. For a few sleepless and caffeine fueled days, you were no longer Y/N Y/L/N. You had, in your mind, really become and taken over the life of Pamela Banks; a wife, a mother, a faithful nurse and a woman who’d lost her best friend in a brutal accident.

You spent hours crying over your lines as you rehearsed them through the panic attacks. You pushed on. You fought against your instincts to ask the producer to just kill off your character instead. It wouldn’t have been the same that way, though, and you knew it. So alternatively, you played the part. You watched your best friend die in front of you, and it sent you spiraling into the worst spell of depression in your 26 years of life.

A hand pats on your back. You peek under your arm as Jensen lets out a sympathetic laugh, “you alright there, kiddo?”

Pulling your body back up, you laugh with him. “Yeah, just out of shape, I suppose.”

He wraps an arm around your shoulders, “you bring lunch today?”

You laugh, “yeah. I don’t know what I was thinking!” Catching Jared’s attention as you sway to the table under Jensen’s arm, his eyes squint slightly before a smile lights up his face. “I didn’t even think about lunch yesterday,” you look up at Jensen, giving an honest smile. “Thanks for sharin’ yours with a stranger.”

He pulls his arm away, but keeps a hand on your shoulder. “You’re not a stranger! It’s just been a while,” he winks, plopping down at the table with his sandwich and a bag of fruit.

Jared keeps a fixed stare on you as he sits across from Jensen. Only you would know that it’s a look of ire and ill-suited lust. You keep your eyes on him, omitting the rights to the muscles in your face. You don’t know what reaction you have to his expressions, you only know that he’s married and looking at you with vexation and a longing, desperation in his eyes.

You had never known him to be a complicated man, so why is he giving you the impression that he’s jealous of Jensen’s harmless embrace? He invited you here, and how he’s acting like he regrets it. Or worse, like his feelings have resurfaced as well.

Or did he call you to work on one of the most tormenting and grueling shows only to bring you back to that low point? Maybe it’s just in your mind. He couldn’t be that spiteful.

Or could he?

“You must be Y/N!” A voice proclaims as energetically as a puppy. “So glad to meet you. I’m Cas-” he cracks out a bellowing laughter, watching as Jensen and Jared roll their eyes. “Oops,” he says sarcastically, drawing a finger to his lip and looking back at you. “I almost name dropped my character, didn’t I? My bad,” he jokes, waving a hand dismissively before holding it out to you. “Nah, I’m just playin’. I’m Misha.”

You smile, shaking his hand and cutting in before he can continue, “Misha. Yes,” you chuckle. “Sorry I missed you yesterday, but it’s very nice to meet you.” Pulling your hand away you nod between the three of them, “I’ll see you all in an hour.”

Starting to turn and walk down the set, Jensen calls out your name. “Yes?” You flip around to see him standing now, twisting the top half of his body in your direction.

“You’re not gonna eat with us?”

“Not today,” you grin. “I thought I’d head to that, uh, new pizza place. It looked appetizing,” you flash an ear to ear smile, hoping to hide behind it while you spin your web of lies.

He pressures you, “you could get it to-go? I’m sure these lovely people here would like to get to know you better,” he waves his hand around the table at familiar, nodding and smiley faces. He shrugs in victory, looking back at you.

“Thanks, but I-” you fiddle with your elbow, blushing imperceptibly. Throwing your hand out to the side and propping it on your rip, you open your mouth to spew another lie about calling your ‘fiance’.

“I brought pie,” he offers, holding the container up. “In honor of Dean.” He smirks, “he’s going through a tough time, thought I’d get him his favorite. I can share-”

“Drop it, man. She said she’s going out. Let her,” Jared shoves a spoon full of soup into his mouth, raising his eyebrows and tilting his head at Jensen. 

You furrow your brows, but smile weakly and turn away. Heat fills your cheeks as you briskly walk to the back door and out to your rental car. Flopping down in the seat, your phone vibrates against your side.

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@awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @fangirl490 @judewinchester123 

Part Three