Series Summary: you get called by 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.
Pairings: Ex!Jared X Actress! Reader, Dean Winchester X Hunter! Reader (and single! Jensen X Actress! Reader in the future)
Warnings: angst, in the beginning, kiss in the middle, fluff at the end
Word Count: 2.7k
A/N: oof, this one got a lot juicier than I imagined it be. <311Please respect copyright.PENANA0d1MANg8P0
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Creeping out of the motel room, you shiver slightly as a breeze slips by, kissing your skin on its way through. With only the light of a flickering streetlamp, you see Dean resting guardedly against the breast of Impala. Propping himself up with a hand on Baby’s side and the other hand holding his head up.
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You take sloth-like steps across the motel parking lot and find yourself in front of him. You bring your hand up to touch his cheek, but as it starts to quiver you drop it back down. “Dean,” you whisper softly. He drops his hand, revealing the black, purple, and blue that has formed under his eye and on his cheeks. You bite your lip to hold back a gasp. His eyes look into yours. The swirl of green dripping lightly like raindrops slipping off of the leaves of a birch tree. “Are you okay, Dean?”
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He slowly shakes his head, cringing as the pain runs through him again. “Bell,” he croaks. Looking past your shoulder at the door of the motel, he drops his train of thought, “where’s Sam?”
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“He’s sleeping,” you say delicately. “What are you still doing out here?” you fold your arms across your chest, trying to huddle in the warmth of your jacket as another breeze rushes by.
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Dean doesn’t even flinch. He offers only a shrug, “couldn’t sleep.”
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You take a step towards him, leaning your back against the Impala and resting a hand on his thigh, “you wanna talk about it?”
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Again, he shakes his head, “not really.” He glances over at you through the side of his eye, letting out a long, painful sigh.
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“Dean, you saw things back there, didn’t you? I know what Djinn do, they - they give you what you truly want, but you’re… struggling with it, aren’t you? Why?”
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He looks into your eyes, his own wide and holding a secret. He knows he can’t wiggle out of this with a lie, so he’ll try to avoid it. “I don’t want to get into it,” he sighs, waving his hand.
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Moving from the Impala to stand in front of him, you bring your hand back up to his face, resting its palm down on his cheek. As you cup your hand around his face he leans into it, closing his eyes tightly.
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You take another small step towards him, not quite chest to chest with him, but close enough to whisper softly and audibly. “Dean,” you hum, rubbing your thumb tenderly on top of his cheek. A tear, meets with your hand, catching you by surprise. “Please talk to me,” you say quietly.
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He opens his eyes and tilts his head back up to face you. Pulling your hand down slowly, you let it ride down his shoulder and chest before bringing it back to your side. His eyes vacillating between yours, he heaves a thick breath. “Sam says you’ve been having premonition-type dreams,” he says. “A vision, too.”
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You glance down at your feet, “I have.”
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“How long?” he pants, eyes frowning slightly at you, “how long have you been having them?”
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Looking back up at his swollen eyes, you babble out a gust of air, dropping your hands to your sides and glancing around the parking lot. “I don’t know,” you sigh, peeking up at him. “Couple weeks, I guess.”
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“A couple of weeks?” He whines, licking his lips and scanning the lot. Pushing himself off of the car to stand up straight he holds out his arms, “why didn’t you tell me, Bell? I thought we talked about this - you said you could tell me anything.”
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“I did say that Dean and I-” your brain switches gears and you’re brought back in time to a conversation between you and Jensen after your break up with Jared. A conversation that mirrors this one nearly perfectly, and outflows all of the things you wish you’d said then.
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“I - I was scared, okay? I was terrified that if I told you the truth, you’d run from me. I was afraid that if I told you about the ch-” you stop.
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The directors are surprisingly lenient about some improv here and there, but if you finished that word you’d have taken it further than far, and the scene would have to be run through again. You’d already been through this part of the scene a few times, leaving you eager for the kiss and to sleep in a bed for the first time in a week.
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His eyes widen and you drop yours back onto your feet. “I meant it when I said I would always be there for you, Bell. ‘Always’ was a promise and I intend on keepin’ it,” he says sternly.
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“You said the same thing, Dean, about - about telling me anything. You said you would tell me what’s going on with you, even when it was difficult. That’s another promise you made, do you intend on keeping that one?” You place a hand on his chest, “please let me in. Let me be here for you, too,” you plead.
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“You really want to know what I saw?” He says, squinting his eyes. You nod as he takes a few steps away from you, turning his back.
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He remains silent, lost in deep thought for just a moment before he turns back around to face you, “the world I was put into is one I never thought I would have chosen. I guess I did though, ‘cause they go after our true desires, right?” He says, mostly to himself and focusing on the ground to his side. He offers a tired chuckle, “I just don’t know what to do with this.”
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“With what?” you murmur, taking small steps towards him.
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“Well, to be honest with you, Bell, I never really thought of you as more than another hunter. Just someone we added to our little group of misfits.”
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You scoff, “thanks, Dean,” you say under your breath.
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“Just,” he holds a palm up at you, cocking his head to the side and shooting daggers from his eyes, “just let me finish. In that dream, I got to see you smile, your real smile, Bell. I got to see you laugh, and - and enjoy things we don’t get to in this life, like - like going out for ice cream and eatin’ it in the park, or - or havin’ a barbecue in the back yard. I watched you laugh so hard you had tears runnin’ down your cheeks,” he chuckles. “I didn’t want it to end,” he whispers quietly to himself.
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“But uh, it had to,” he shrugs, “otherwise I guess I wouldn’t be here to tell you any of this.” His eyes pop back onto yours, “you were happy, Bell. I mean, you were genuinely happy in ways I’ve never seen from you before,” he shakes his head.
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Standing just in front of him now, you remain quiet as he speaks, keeping your hand balled up against your chest, “and I got no problem with any of that. I do want that for you.” He scoffs lightly, “I wouldn’t have believed it if I didn’t see it with my own eyes, but in that world - that dream, it was me that made you laugh. I was the one making you smile. We were happy together, but it wasn’t - it wasn’t real. None of it was real.” He bows his head forward, “and - and know that in this life - this god-forsaken world - there’s no way I could make you that happy. That’s just not real.”
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Going against your anxieties, you tenderly grip onto his cheeks again - this time with both hands and careful not to agitate the bruising as you pull his head up to face you. With your heart throbbing in your chest, you bring your lips to his forehead, kissing it gently. “We can make it real, Dean,” you gracefully whisper against his skin before pulling away.
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He shakes his head. “No,” he says, “it’s too dangerous-”
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You don’t give him time to finish his thoughts and slam your mouth against his, pulling him into an abysmal kiss. He shuffles back a few steps in response to your weight against him, keeping his lips frozen as the realization of what has happened hits him.
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When he wraps his hands around your back, a sensation stirs in your stomach and gradually coasts down further and tickles your spine. Placing your hands around the back of his neck, a whimper falls from his lips as the kiss intensifies. His hands soar to the small of your back in a hurried pursuit to pull you closer.
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Your faces move quickly around each other to accommodate for the rapid movements of your lips. He shuffles closer to you, one foot on either side of your legs, leaning you back slightly but keeping a firm grip on your back. You run your hands up his sides and rest them against his shoulder blades while pushing yourself into him to keep your balance.
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He twirls around with you. A grunt of avidity drips from your lips as he slams you against the Impala without removing his lips from yours. Running your hands down your arms and racing them back into your hair, you break from the kiss and lean your head against the car to catch your breath.
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Taking advantage of your position, his kisses whisk down the side of your face and onto your neck. Another needy moan breaks from you. Your hand pounces onto the top of his head, gripping onto his hair as he takes his time on your neck - kissing softly in some places, and biting down on others. The need to feel his lips on yours surges through you once again. Keeping your hand in his hair, you jerk your head up, pulling his lips onto yours and stumbling forward with the momentum.
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His leg wedges between yours as he pushes into you dotingly. You know a motel parking lot isn’t the place to let the moaning of this volume spring from your mouth, but you almost can’t help it. Forcing his tongue against the inside of your lips, you moan into his mouth as they open wider, allowing him to lick inside of your mouth. You break your tongue through to caress his and let them dance in a fight for dominance, relishing the vibration of his moan against your lips.
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You lurch your hips forward, eliciting a cry of pleasure from him. Running your hands up and down his back, it doesn’t seem like you’re in control of your body anymore as the kiss rouses a heat in the pit of your stomach. You feel a slow drip in your underwear, causing your knees to slightly buckle.
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He belts out another unscripted moan. You know the music will be playing over this part of the scene once the editors get a hold of it, but you pay that no mind and continue to enjoy the rattling of his tongue as he lets out another grunt. Your hands grip tightly onto his waist with an urgent need to bring him into you. Wrapping your fingers through the loops of his pants you tug him towards you, desperately trying to make close closer.
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He whimpers out a cushioned, blissful moan as you gently bite down on his lip. You take your time to suck on the sweetness of his tender skin. He crashes into you once more, forcing you to release your grip on his mouth as you throw your head back in euphoria. His lips gravitate back onto your neck, just behind your ear as his hand trails up your shirt.
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A small voice in the back of your head calls out. Something doesn’t seem right. You hear a person off in the distance clearing their throat before speaking out loudly, “all right kids. Cut it out,” the director says through laughter.
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Jensen keeps his lips against your neck, bringing them up to your ear to suck on your earlobe. He’s either pretending he can’t hear them or is so engulfed in the scene - in you - that he really can’t. You hop on board with pretending not to hear the directors and close your eyes. His hand lands on top of your breast, squeezing gently. Staccato breaths leave your lips as his lips coast onto your cheeks.
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He pulls away to watch your face with covetous eyes while you writhe under him to his fingers as they gently twist on your hardened nipple. You look up at him lasciviously as his eyes slit, and he slows his movements on your breast.
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You switch your legs so that your knee rests between his and push into him softly, feeling the tense, swell of his jeans. The pressure on his already pulsating member sends his face into your neck kissing you feverishly. You grip onto his cheeks and move your face towards him in a greedy yearning to have his lips on yours again.
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He finally surrenders his mouth to you, leaving you in control. You tighten your hands around his waist before moving them up his back, pulling him closer and pushing against him harder, rougher. This time, he pushes back, pushing you deeper against the car. The cold exterior of the Impala is easily ignored as the heat floods through your body.
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Your hands fall back onto his waist, riding up the front of his shirt. They linger on his chest as the kissing escalates into a passion that no longer only lies between Bell and Dean, but now as an unspoken attraction between you and Jensen. Only slowing for breaths when it’s absolutely necessary, you use those moments to creep your hands up his chest and wrap them around his neck.
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You can’t get enough of each other which is not only apparent to you but to the rest of the crew on set for the day. An agitated voice is heard in the distance, “seriously guys, wrap it up. We want to go home.”
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Jensen stills his lips against yours, catching his breath before pulling away completely. When he does, a shot of electricity pulses through you. You slowly unwrap your hands from his neck, blushing softly as he turns to face the crew.
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“Oh, you sure you don’t want to do another take? I’m not sure we got it right that time,” Jensen jokes, grinning smugly at the directors as walks towards them, being sure to throw a wink your way.
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The directors push out faux laughter, provoking giggles from you as you walk towards Misha.
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“They called cut like six-time you crazy love birds,” Misha jokes with a bright smile, causing the heat to rush to your cheeks again.
****
Jensen flashes a smile at you as he unlocks the door and holds it open. You bow down in a small curtsy with a giggle before walking in.
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“You hungry?” he asks. “I have leftovers from dinner last night. Parmesan salmon and Caesar salad if you’re interested.”
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Smiling, you wave a hand, “no. Thank you for the offering. I’m not really hungry, just tired.”
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“Right,” he says, skipping in front of you and leading you down the hallway. He opens the first door, allowing you to walk in. “It’s not much, but it’s probably a lot better than your car,” he laughs.
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“No it’s-” you glance around the room covered in what looks like fan-art, drawn and painted pictures of the cast, sculptures and so much more. “It’s perfect.”
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He steps into the room, “I keep everything that gets sent to me. It’s so neat to me how close this family has grown. I wouldn’t be where I am without these people,” he says, gesturing to the art that hangs from the walls and around the room.
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“That’s beautiful,” you breathe, stepping towards him and bringing your lips to his cheek, kissing softly. His eyes shut as your lips fall onto his skin and open when you pull away. “Thank you Jensen for - well,” you chuckle, “for everything.”
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He smiles humbly, “it’s nothing, Y/N, really.” He takes a deep breath, “uh, do you maybe want to talk about what happened back there?”
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“I think that kiss speaks for itself, don’t you?” You laugh.
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“Well, yeah,” he blushes, looking down at his feet before bringing his eyes back onto yours, “I meant the improv parts. I was curious about where you were heading with that.”
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“Oh, that…” you sigh. “Look, if I tell you this you’re going to be mad, and that might ruin things on set. I don’t want you to be in the middle of this drama.”
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“What on Earth could you have done to make me mad?”
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“Oh,” you say with a hand on his arm, “not at me,” you breathe deeply, closing your eyes, “Jared.”
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