Dark Tendencies (Dean Winchester x Reader)

The French Mistake

*A/N: Hello lovelies! I just want to thank you for reading my fanfic so far. This one is more of a filler chapter that I wanted to do because I not only love this episode, I also want to try writing from a different perspective. I hope you enjoy! Also, feel free to give me feedback on my writing style. Are the chapters too long/too short? Am I too annoying with details? Should I get to my point faster? Anything. I just want to improve as I go along so let me know :) *

***DEAN POV***

"Cut" 

I look up to see that you are indeed NOT outside of Bobby's house like you were expecting. Instead, you are in a warehouse-type building with a bunch of cameras and strangers staring at you. You get up to wipe the glass of you taking in your surroundings.

"Real good solid fall. Way to go." You hear just as you receive a swift pat on the ass. You feel a little violated and turn to Sam who has the same expression you probably do. Complete confusion.

"Jared, Jensen! Outstanding! That was just great." You hear, immediately looking toward the camera crew.

You and Sam both get up and make your way off the set.

"So...No angels?" asks Sam as he is frantically looking around the area.

"No angels, I think."

"Should we be killing anybody?"

"I don't think so" you reply.

"Moving on! That's a wrap on Jared and Jensen!" You hear being shouted across the room.

Sam turns to you "W-who the hell are—" but suddenly gets interrupted.

"Jared! Three minutes, okay? Great." The woman that just walked up to us grabs Sam by the hand and leads him away. You turn to follow after them.

"Where are we going?" But suddenly you get caught by another pair of hands.

"Jensen, there you are! Let's just get you in the chair."

"chair?"

Sitting down in the chair she directed you to you just look at her confused, your head buzzing with the amount of information getting thrown at you. One minute you were being thrown through a window the next you are in some production studio.

"Okay, hon, we're just gonna get this makeup off your face." The woman says turning to you with a towel in hand. He tries wiping your face but you promptly grab her wrist, holding her back.

"Wha—I'm not wearing any ma—" You turn to look at the towel in her hand to see it covered in a skin-toned liquid. You feel your eyes widen in complete shock and horror and for the first time look into the mirror in front of you "Oh, crap! I'm a painted whore!"

You let the lady wipe your face off, still lost in thought, and completely at a loss for words. Soon enough she is done and lets you stand up to leave. Shaking yourself out of your mental slump you decide to look for Sammy who you see is standing in front of the panic room?

"Dude, they put freakin' makeup on us! Those bastards!" You growl as you approach him.

"Look, I think I know what this is." He says turning to you, still paranoid and looking around the room.

"Okay. What?" You answer, very pissed off at the moment.

"It's a tv show."

"You think?"

"Yeah. I mean, here – wherever 'here' is, this – this twilight zone Balthazar zapped us into. For whatever reason, our life is a TV show."

"Why?" you ask, dumbfounded.