Another magazine caught Spencer's eye on his way to work.
Y/N L/N: Diva or Disaster?
A photo of your, now viral, interview from the other day across the cover, edited to have mascara running down your cheeks.
Y/N's Downward Spiral!
More photos of you crying.
BREAKING: Sources state that Y/N L/N has been CUT from Chanel's Ambassador Team
Those same damn photos.
From Shining Star to Dumpster Fire: Y/N L/N
Spencer grabbed a magazine, ripping it up. "As if that'll do anything," he muttered.
"You gotta pay for that, dude."
He looked up, cheeks flushed. "'Erm yeah, sorry. Here."
"Have a good one..."
Spencer sighed as he walked, the crumpled magazine in hand as he made his way through the streets where somehow your public breakdown was bigger news than any global issue. "What a country."
You had always believed that you dealt well with pressure.
Intense scenes, stunts, constant paparazzi, and the weight of the public eye constantly on you, and you carried it well since the age of 19. At least you did until now.
As rumors about you and your very public breakdown intensified, instead of feeling a fire to stand up and make everyone forget them with some stunning photo shoot or a movie announcement, you just lay on your bed with hundreds of missed calls from various sponsors and partners.
Each voicemail or text just reminded you that a single moment of realness could get you dropped from the pedestal you spent 6 years climbing to the top of.
"Hi Ms. L/N, it's Jeanie from Dior, can you give us a call—"
Skip.
"Ms. L/N. This is Reagan from Yves St. Laurent—"
Skip.
"Ms. L/N—"
Nope.
"Y/N."
You froze, sitting up.
"It's uh it's me, Spencer. I uhm I was wondering if you were around and maybe wanted to talk? Give me a call."
You picked up the phone, replaying the message as tears began to pool up in your eyes. "You idiot." You inhaled sharply, placing the phone down.
Do I call him?
Somehow, after all of this mess, Spencer is the one person who has called to say anything but 'Sorry, but we don't think your image is a fit for us.' Even Josh has stopped calling, guess there's no more superstar to leach off of.
"Hello?"
You just started crying.
"Y/N?"
"How'd you know?" You croaked, a small laugh coming out of your mouth.
You could hear his smile. "Just a hunch. How are y—Nevermind. Where are you?"
"Home."
"May I stop by?"
You gulped, looking at the mess of clothes and books all over the floor of your room. "Okay."
"I'll see you soon, okay?"
"Okay," you whispered, your shaking hands practically squeezing the phone.
YOU ARE READING
Scripted | S.R x Reader
Fanfiction"How can be sure when your whole job is to pretend?" "I was never sure about anything until I met you." Y/N L/N is an A-Lister in the film industry and one of Hollywood's 'It' girls, given the chance to play a role quite unlike any other, an FBI age...
