#jensenacklesxreader

You glance sideways at Jensen, who's already settling into his chair with that easygoing grin, but you catch the flicker in his eyes—the one only you recognize after months of stolen moments. Jared plops down next to you, his massive frame making the chair creak, and Misha slides in on Jensen's other side, adjusting his mic with a dramatic flourish. The four of you wave to the sea of faces, phones flashing like stars, but the air feels thicker than usual. Whispers ripple through the audience; you can practically feel the shift.

The moderator—some enthusiastic con host—kicks things off with the usual pleasantries, but you tune it out, your mind replaying the video in your head. It was from last night, after a late shoot: you and Jensen in the hotel hallway, thinking you were alone, his hands on your waist, your lips crashing into his with that desperate hunger built from weeks of secrecy. Someone must have been lurking with a camera. And now? It's everywhere online, blowing up Twitter feeds just as the panel starts.

First question comes from a fan in the front row, a girl with a Winchester tattoo peeking from her sleeve. "This is for Jared and you," she says, pointing between you two. "Roxy and Sam have such amazing chemistry on screen—those romantic scenes are fire! Is there any chance that spills over into real life? You two seem so close off-set."

The crowd erupts in cheers, whoops, and a few "Jaroxy!" chants—your ship name with Jared that's been trending since Roxy's first kiss with Sam aired. Jared laughs, that booming, genuine sound, leaning into his mic. "Oh man, where do I start? She's incredible to work with. We hang out all the time—poker nights, pranks on set. But real life? Nah, we're just buds. Right?" He nudges you playfully, oblivious for a split second.

You force a smile, nodding. "Totally. Jared's like the big brother I never wanted." The audience laughs, but you feel Jensen's gaze burning into you from across the panel. Misha raises an eyebrow, sensing something off, but he stays quiet.

Another fan steps up, this one bolder, holding her phone like a weapon. "Okay, I have to ask about the elephant in the room. That video that just dropped—like, five minutes ago. You and Jensen... in the hallway? What the hell?!"

The hall falls silent. Not the excited hush before a reveal, but a thick, awkward tension that presses down like fog. You hear chairs creak as people lean forward, breaths held. Jared's smile freezes, his eyes darting between you and Jensen. Misha's mouth opens slightly, then closes, his usual chaos replaced by wide-eyed surprise.

Jensen shifts in his seat, rubbing the back of his neck—a telltale sign he's buying time. You meet his eyes, and for a heartbeat, it's just the two of you, remembering the feel of his stubble against your skin, the way he whispered "I love you" in that hallway before pulling you closer. But now? The secret's shattered.

"Uh," Jensen starts, his voice steady but laced with that Texas drawl that always calms you. "Look, we're all friends here. That video... it's private. But yeah, it's real." He pauses, the silence stretching, fans exchanging shocked glances. No one claps. No one cheers. Just the hum of the AC and a few muffled gasps.

Jared recovers first, leaning back with a forced chuckle that doesn't reach his eyes. "Wait, seriously? You two? Since when?" His tone is light, but there's an edge—betrayal? Amusement? You can't tell. The crowd murmurs now, a low buzz building.

Misha jumps in, ever the wildcard. "Well, this explains why Jensen's been so chipper lately. And here I thought it was the craft services coffee." He winks at the audience, trying to diffuse, but the tension lingers, heavy and unspoken. Fans whisper, phones out, no doubt live-tweeting every awkward beat.

You clear your throat, gripping the mic tighter. "It started a few months ago. We kept it quiet because... well, this." You gesture vaguely at the room, the weight of a thousand eyes. "We didn't want it to overshadow the show or mess with the dynamics. Jared, Misha—you guys are family. Nothing changes that."

Jared nods slowly, but his smile is tight, the silence after your words dragging on too long. A fan in the back shouts, "But what about Jaroxy? We shipped you two so hard!"

Laughter bubbles up, nervous and scattered, but it dies quick. Jensen reaches over, his hand brushing yours under the table—just a fleeting touch, grounding you. "Ships are fun," he says into the mic, "but real life? It's messier. And better." His eyes lock on yours again, a promise in the chaos.

The next question pivots to safer ground—Misha's latest charity run—but the air never fully clears. Every pause feels loaded, every glance between the four of you amplified. Jared cracks a joke about Sam needing a new love interest now, but it lands flat, the silence swallowing the punchline. Misha overcompensates with wild gestures, recounting a set prank, yet even he falters, the usual rhythm off-kilter.

As the panel wraps, fans applaud, but it's subdued, the shock still fresh. Backstage, away from the lights, Jensen pulls you into a quick hug. "We got this," he murmurs. Jared claps him on the back, awkward but sincere. "Dude, congrats? I think?" Misha grins. "Finally, some real drama off-screen."

But you know the internet's exploding, the secret out. And somehow, in the midst of the tension, it feels like freedom.

Break

The backstage area feels like a war zone the second the panel ends—curtains drawn, security ushering fans out, but the echo of their murmurs lingers like smoke. You slip off stage with Jensen's hand grazing your lower back, a subtle anchor in the storm, but Jared and Misha trail behind, their footsteps heavier than usual. No one's talking. The silence stretches, broken only by the distant hum of the convention center and the frantic buzz of phones in pockets.

Your publicist, Sarah—a no-nonsense woman with a clipboard perpetually glued to her hand—meets you in a makeshift green room, her face pinched like she's swallowed something sour. Jensen's manager, Tom, is already there, pacing with his phone pressed to his ear, and your manager, Lisa, hovers by the door, scrolling through alerts. Jensen's publicist rounds out the group, bursting in last with a laptop under her arm, slamming it down on the table.

"Alright, damage control," Sarah starts, her voice clipped, no preamble. The room falls into that awkward hush again, everyone exchanging glances—yours landing on Jensen, who leans against the wall, arms crossed, jaw set. Jared sinks into a chair, rubbing his temples, while Misha perches on the armrest, uncharacteristically quiet, his eyes flicking between you all like he's piecing together a puzzle.

Tom jumps in first. "The video's everywhere—TMZ picked it up, E! News is running with it. Views are skyrocketing. Fans are split: half thrilled, half pissed about the 'Jaroxy' betrayal." He shoots a look at Jared, who just nods, the silence thickening as Lisa pulls up screenshots—tweets, forums, the works.

Your heart pounds. "How bad is it?" you ask, voice steadier than you feel.

Sarah sighs, long and heavy. "Bad enough that sponsors are calling. The show's family-friendly image? This throws a wrench. Secret dating on set—people will speculate about favoritism, drama bleeding into work." She pauses, the room so quiet you hear the clock ticking. Jensen shifts, his eyes meeting yours, a silent apology in them.

Lisa chimes in. "We spin it positive. Joint statement: 'We're happy, supportive of the show, no impact on production.' Keep it vague on timelines—don't confirm when it started. And for god's sake, no more hallway makeouts." She glares at you both, but there's a hint of a smile, breaking the tension just a fraction.

Jensen finally speaks, his voice low. "What about the cast? Jared, Misha—you guys okay?" Another beat of silence, awkward and loaded. Jared exhales, leaning forward. "Man, I'm happy for you. Just... shocked. Wish I'd known." Misha nods, adding lightly, "Yeah, next time, loop us in before the internet does." But the words hang, the air still heavy with unspoken what-ifs.

They hash it out for another hour—statements drafted, social media strategies outlined. You and Jensen agree to a low-key approach: own it, but don't feed the frenzy. By the end, Sarah claps her hands. "We handle the press. You two? Act normal on set. The show's the priority." As everyone files out, Jensen pulls you aside, his forehead against yours in the dim light. "We got through the panel. We'll get through this."

But the internet doesn't wait. By evening, as you scroll from your hotel room—Jensen asleep beside you, his arm draped over your waist—Tumblr explodes. You stumble onto a random Supernatural fan community, "SPNFamilyForever," where a masterpost titled "JENSEN AND ROXY ACTOR: THE SIGNS WERE THERE ALL ALONG!!!" is gaining traction, reblogged hundreds of times in hours.

The OP starts with caps-lock frenzy: "OKAY GUYS, THAT VIDEO? MIND BLOWN. But let's rewind—Jensen's been heart-eyes for her since she joined. Proof below!"

They link clips from past interviews: That 2011 Comic-Con panel where you teased Jensen about Dean's leather jacket, and he laughed a little too long, his gaze lingering as you spoke. "See how he watches her? Not like with Jared or Misha. That's LOVE."

Then behind-the-scenes footage from season 7: A gag reel where you flub a line, tripping over a prop, and Jensen catches you, holding on a second longer than necessary, his grin soft, not the usual prankster smirk. "He's always positioning himself next to her in group shots. Coincidence? I THINK NOT."

More: A PaleyFest interview where a fan asks about on-set crushes, and Jensen deflects with a joke, but his eyes flick to you off-camera, a subtle tell the fans now dissect frame by frame. "And remember that BTS photo from the vampire ep? Jensen's arm around her shoulders, looking at her like she's the only one in the room. We've been blind!"

Comments flood in: "Holy crap, you're right! Rewatching now—every con, he's stealing glances." "Jaroxy was cute, but JenRox? ENDGAME." "How did we miss this? He's been smitten FOREVER."

You chuckle softly, the tension from earlier easing as you read. Jensen stirs, peeking at your screen. "Fans figuring us out?" You nod, showing him. He smirks, pulling you closer. "Let 'em. They were gonna anyway." The silence between you now is comfortable, the world's chaos fading as you drift off, the pieces finally falling into place for everyone.

Break

The days following the leaked video feel like living inside a snow globe someone keeps shaking. Every channel, every website, every radio segment wants a piece of the story. You and Jensen hole up in the Vancouver hotel suite between shoots, curtains drawn against paparazzi lenses, phones on silent. But the world outside refuses to quiet down.

Monday morning, December 2012. You wake to the television already on—Jensen must have fallen asleep with the remote in his hand. CNN’s entertainment ticker scrolls across the bottom of the screen: “Supernatural Stars Jensen Ackles & Co-Star Confirm Real-Life Romance After Viral Video.” The anchor, a polished brunette, tilts her head with practiced sympathy.

“In a story that has the internet in an absolute frenzy, a grainy hotel hallway video surfaced over the weekend showing Supernatural heartthrob Jensen Ackles in a passionate embrace with his newer co-star, the actress who plays fan-favorite hunter Roxy. The twist? On the hit CW series, Roxy is currently in a heated romance with Sam Winchester, portrayed by Jared Padalecki, sparking one of the fandom’s most beloved ships, affectionately dubbed ‘Jaroxy.’”

Cut to file footage: you and Jared in a season-seven promo, arms wrapped around each other, laughing as fake blood drips down your faces. Then the hallway clip—blurred for network TV, but unmistakable. The anchor continues, “Sources tell us the couple had been dating secretly for months. At a convention panel on Saturday, Ackles confirmed the relationship when directly confronted by a fan, saying simply, ‘Yeah, it’s real.’ The room fell silent for several long seconds—an eternity in live television.”

They roll the convention footage. There it is: the fan’s question, Jared’s frozen half-smile, Misha’s wide eyes, your own hand tightening around the microphone. The silence is deafening even in replay. The anchor raises an eyebrow. “Awkward doesn’t begin to cover it. But in the hours since, the fandom has begun to pivot. While many are mourning the apparent end of ‘Jaroxy’ hopes, a new ship is rising fast: ‘JenRox.’”

The segment ends with a split-screen of old Jared/you photos and newly resurfaced Jensen/you candids—him steadying you on an icy Vancouver sidewalk last winter, you handing him a coffee on set with a private smile. The chyron reads: “From Co-Stars to Couple: The Signs Were There All Along?”

You mute the TV and bury your face in the pillow. Jensen stirs beside you, voice gravelly with sleep. “They’re never gonna let this die, are they?” You shake your head against the cotton. He pulls you closer, lips brushing your temple. “Good thing I don’t want them to.”

By noon, every major entertainment outlet has run some version of the story.

Terrence: “Let’s be honest—this is the kind of drama we live for. Secret on-set romance, leaked video, live convention reveal. It’s like a script the writers couldn’t even dream up.”

E! News devotes a full ten-minute block. Giuliana Rancic and Terrence Jenkins sit on the white couch, a montage of Supernatural clips playing behind them.

Giuliana: “And the fandom reaction is fascinating. Initially, there was heartbreak. ‘Jaroxy’ has been trending globally since Roxy’s first appearance. Fans invested years in Sam and Roxy’s slow-burn. But now? Tumblr, Twitter, Reddit—they’re digging through archives like detectives. And what they’re finding is convincing a lot of them that Jensen has been quietly in love with her since day one.”

They cut to a graphic titled “The Evidence Timeline.”

- March 2011: Your first table read. A fan-captured photo shows Jensen watching you read Roxy’s introduction scene, chin propped on his hand, expression unreadable but intense.

- July 2011: Comic-Con. In the press line, Jensen steps aside so you can go first, his hand hovering at the small of your back without quite touching.

- October 2011: Behind-the-scenes video. You trip over a cable; Jensen catches you instinctively, holds a beat too long before letting go, cheeks pink.

- February 2012: PaleyFest panel. When asked who has the best chemistry on set, Jensen jokes, “Well, I’m biased,” and glances at you with a grin that lingers.

Giuliana: “Fans are calling it ‘the longest slow-burn in history.’ And the more they rewatch, the more converts they make.”

Terrence holds up his phone. “Hashtag JenRox is now out-trending Jaroxy for the first time ever. And the fan art? Next level.”

The screen fills with digital drawings: you and Jensen as Dean and Roxy stargazing on the Impala’s hood; soft watercolor portraits; even some cheeky hallway re-creations with heart filters.

Over on TMZ Live, the tone is predictably chaotic. Harvey Levin leans into camera, surrounded by his barking staff.

Harvey: “Forget the sweet stuff—this is juicy. We’re talking betrayal vibes for Jaroxy shippers. Jared Padalecki’s married in real life, so no love triangle drama there, but on-screen? Roxy and Sam are endgame—or were. Now writers have to figure out how to handle the real-life couple playing… not a couple.”

A staffer yells, “We got sources saying Jensen and her started flirting almost immediately after she joined. Quiet dinners, late-night script runs. Crew knew, but nobody talked.”

Harvey: “And that panel silence? Gold. Jared looked like someone told him Santa wasn’t real. But give the guy credit—he’s already tweeting support. Quote: ‘Happy for my brother and my friend. Family sticks together.’ Class act.”

They flash Jared’s tweet, timestamped late last night, already at 80k likes.

Access Hollywood takes the high road. Nancy O’Dell and Billy Bush host a roundtable with two entertainment reporters.

Nancy: “What’s remarkable is how quickly the narrative shifted from scandal to celebration. Yes, there was initial shock, but the deeper fans dig, the more they embrace it.”

One reporter: “It helps that there’s no villain here. Jared’s happily married with kids. No cheating rumors. Just two single co-stars who fell for each other while playing other people in love. It’s almost poetic.”

Billy: “And the chemistry was always there—just misdirected. Fans thought the sparks between her and Jared were real because the writing was strong. But watching old interviews now, Jensen’s reactions are… telling.”

They play a compilation titled “Jensen Being Whipped: A Thread.”

- You telling a story at a con; Jensen laughing harder than anyone, eyes crinkling.

- You singing along to music between takes; Jensen filming you on his phone with the softest smile.

- You shivering on location; Jensen wordlessly draping his jacket over your shoulders and leaving it there for hours.

Nancy: “It’s hard to stay mad when the evidence is this cute.”

Even late-night shows can’t resist. Jimmy Fallon opens his monologue with it.

Jimmy: “Big news in TV land, folks. Jensen Ackles from Supernatural is dating his co-star—the one who plays Roxy. Now, on the show, Roxy dates Sam, Jensen’s on-screen brother. So basically, Jensen pulled the ultimate ‘I saw her first’ move. Sorry, Jared.”

Audience laughs. Jimmy continues, “Fans are calling it JenRox, and they’re making compilations proving Jensen’s been in love since 2011. That’s longer than most of my relationships.”

Cut to a fake “evidence” clip Fallon’s team edited: every time Jensen looks at you in old panels, a cartoon heart pops up.

Meanwhile, the fandom itself is undergoing a full renaissance.

On Tumblr, the blog spnarchaeology posts a 5,000-word essay titled “How JenRox Rewrites Seven Seasons of Subtext.” It gets reblogged 40,000 times in two days. Key points:

- Dean’s protectiveness toward Roxy always read slightly different than toward other hunters—more personal, less big-brother.

- Every time Roxy flirted with Sam, Dean’s micro-expressions showed… something. Fans previously read it as jealousy over Sam’s happiness. Now they see romantic jealousy.

- The season-seven episode where Dean teaches Roxy to shoot? The lingering close-ups on Jensen’s hands adjusting your grip? “We thought it was Dean/Roxy tension the writers were teasing. Turns out it was just Jensen unable to hide it.”

Comments pour in:

user1: “I’m still Jaroxy forever in my heart, but I can’t deny JenRox is real and beautiful.”

user2: “Multishipping is the way. Let me have my Sam/Roxy fanfic AND real-life JenRox happiness.”

user3: “The hallway video is hot, but the quiet moments—him looking at her like she hung the moon—are what sold me.”

Reddit’s r/Supernatural has multiple megathreads stickied.

One titled “Official JenRox Appreciation Thread – All Evidence Welcome” hits 10k comments. Users upload slowed-down gifs, color-enhanced stills, audio isolates of Jensen’s voice softening when he says your name in interviews.

Another thread: “Jaroxy Isn’t Dead – It’s Just Fiction Now (And That’s Okay).” Moderators pin it to calm the grieving shippers. Top comment, 15k upvotes: “Ships don’t have to be real to be valid. I’ll keep writing Jaroxy epics till the day I die, but I’m genuinely happy for Jensen and her.”

Fanfiction.net and AO3 see an explosion. Jaroxy fics still update daily—many authors add notes: “Canon-compliant through 7x12, then AU because real life happened.” JenRox RPF (real-person fic) skyrockets, but tastefully—most focus on soft domestic moments, convention shenanigans, first kisses that mirror the leaked hallway scene.

One wildly popular 50k-word fic, “Visible Only in Flashbulbs,” imagines the entire secret relationship from your first table read to the leak. It updates twice a week and has a cult following.

Twitter trends cycle hourly: #JenRox, #ProtectJaroxy, #SPNFamily, #MultishippersUnite. Misha tweets a photo of the four of you at dinner post-panel—Jared’s arm around Jensen, your head on Jensen’s shoulder, everyone laughing. Caption: “Family dinner. No demons invited.” It gets 200k likes and calms a lot of worried fans.

Jared posts an Instagram of him and Jensen on set, fake-fighting with prop knives, caption: “Still my brother. Always.” The comments flood with heart emojis.

Back in the hotel that night, you and Jensen order room service and binge-watch the coverage on mute, subtitles on. You laugh at the over-the-top graphics, cringe at the slowed-down hallway kiss replayed for the hundredth time. But mostly you feel… relieved.

The initial wave of shock has crested. The awkward silence from the panel is now meme legend, but it’s affectionate meme legend. Fans have taken the broken pieces of their expectations and built something new—something that holds space for both Jaroxy’s fictional fire and JenRox’s quiet realness.

Jensen sets his fork down, pulls you into his lap. “Think we survived it?”

You trace the line of his jaw, the one you’ve memorized in secret for months. “We didn’t just survive. They rewrote the story with us.”

He smiles—that soft, private one he saves just for you, the one fans are now dissecting frame by frame. “Good. Because I’m not done writing it yet.”

Outside, the snow starts to fall over Vancouver, blanketing the city in hush. Inside, the world keeps spinning, talking, shipping, celebrating. But here, in this room, it’s just the two of you—no secrets left, no silence except the comfortable kind.

Finally reaching the shore of strangers, he pulled her from the water and they ascended the disgustingly oversized staircase. Nine foot wide stairs, most of them were draped in drunk twenty-something year old kids and the rest were plastered with an unholy concoction of alcohol and probably drugs too.

Split between terribly shy and desperately horny, the units of alcohol circling [Y/N]’s body pushed her beyond her introvert boundaries. She allowed a filthy grin to mark her face as the five foot eleven, shoulder-length haired boy sought some privacy in the anonymous mansion. Her inner temperature and core burned when they tumbled into a dark untouched bedroom. As per usual she was untouched for less than a minute due to clothing being removed.

“Those tiny tits are mine!” He growled as he shoved her onto the bed. 

[Y/N] ejected from the dream into reality. Her throat ceased. Her mouth bone dry. Her palms clammy. And a cold sweat soaked skin. The familiar melody of Juke Box Hero by Foreigner echoed around the room as her phone alarm buzzed. Wishing she could hide under the duvet all day, she gently sobbed to herself. ‘Get up, get ready, go to work, get home. That’s it. Step by step and then you’re home and alone for the night,’ she attempted to psych herself to face the world.

It took [Y/N] an hour long shower, a couple of panic attacks, a few meltdowns over clothing and a smashed glass to get ready. Dealing with the symptoms of anxiety was an everyday occurrence for [Y/N], but this morning, her anxiety levels were beyond the average day.

Hidden in a grey oversized jersey, she tugged at the rolled up sleeves while darting from one foot to the other on the sidewalk. Gushing with sweat she stood in the early morning air and begged for today to be over. 

[Y/N] could have said no to Jensen being the person she had to carpool with. That would have been the sensible option. Jensen was a pretty boy, and [Y/N] had slipped for him while at a party, she gave him permission to explore her mouth with his tongue, and it had been an amazing make out session.

The morning after, [Y/N] scolded herself for being easy and careless. She focused on spending less time with him, on and off set. She had attempted to say no to the offer, but the thought of being alone with Jensen twisted her insides in an aching need, so she had said yes.

When the Dodge Hellcat pulled up, she double gulped and shakily clenched the door handle. Staring at her reflection in the window, [Y/N] questioned if she had looked this bad when she had left the apartment. She instantly regretted her decision to carpool with Jensen as a gentle breeze blew stray hairs across her face.

A natural smile spread across her face when Jensens blazing green eyes captured hers. His K9's were prominent and she could see through the tiniest slit that his tongue was pushed against the back of his teeth. Soft dimples imprinted his cheeks and the extreme scent of his cologne swamped the car and assaulted her nostrils. The hint of fresh zesty mandarin sent a shiver down her spine and the sandalwood aroma created a twinge between her legs. She stifled a quick moan by biting her lip as she was thrown back to being in his arms at the party. Their tongues on an adventure, then their hands joined in too, they groped hungrily and tipsily at one another in the corner of the kitchen.

He side-eyed her as she slipped into the Dodge. Her slim pins were covered by skinny light blue denim jeans and she wore a black and white pair of Vans. The rest of her small frame was hidden by an oversized jersey. “Scooby-Doo? Good choice,” he smiled at her.

“The best,” she beamed. The passengers seat swallowed her, the seatbelt swamped her and she naturally tucked the belt under her arm. “Oh no, you're not one of those guys with all those strict car rules, are you?” she asked nervously as he watched her.

“No, I'm actually a really cool guy,” he said without an ounce of arrogance. 

“Oh, you are?” She teased.

“Yeah. For one, my shotgun has input on what music plays,”

“Wow, you're too good to be true,” she chuckled.

“Couldn't have gotten a better carpool buddy huh?”

“Apparently not,” she blushed. Jensen had the ability to make her feel extremely on edge, but also at ease, she felt comfortable and safe around him, but also as if she might throw up at any moment. He made her want to run as far away as possible from him, but also run straight into his arms. He was a deadly combination; funny, sweet, talented and good looking, although [Y/N] presumed the sweet would be pushed out by ego the more she got to know him.

Pretty boys, don’t do down to earth, it was always a front and she had already slipped into his sweet boy act once. He probably revelled in knowing she found him attractive, as well as every other girl out there. She would be just another kiss for him to tell. She was not unattractive, but she was at the base, a plain Jane, the girl next door. Five foot one, barely one hundred pounds, flat chest and ass to match, pale, with a freckled face. She did not stand out in a group of women, she did not exude sexy. Her legs were short, she had hip dips, her breasts were slightly too far apart, her nose was not a sharp button, but rounded, her top lip was thinner than her bottom and her left ear stuck out unevenly and boldly.

Jensen on the other hand, was a walking model, his face was almost perfectly proportioned, he had a strong jawline, slight butt-chin, a chiselled nose, scorching green eyes, perfectly styled dirty blonde hair, supple plush lips and a sprinkling of freckles. He was six foot one, broad shoulders, tight biceps, toned abs and bowed legs, that somewhat made him even more attractive.

“I ah, got you coffee,” Jensen mumbled. Even when he was being quiet, his tone was rustic and deep. “I hope I got the right one. Iced blonde vanilla latte?”

“How, do you know?” A giddy cheeriness flooded her body.

“I did the coffee run one time,” He shrugged nonchalantly before he checked the side mirror and pulled away from the curb when it was clear. 

“Thanks.” [Y/N] sucked her iced coffee through the green plastic straw. “It’s the only thing that wakes me up in the mornings. Well, besides sex, but I’m not getting that, so.” [Y/N]’s mouth moved faster than her thoughts. When her brain caught up, she bit her tongue while an inferno flushed her face. Her skin was on fire, perspiration gathered around her hairline and beads of sweat laced the crease of her spine. Avoiding Jensen’s eyes, she nibbled the end of the straw. The air was as thick as porridge, the carseat was covered in glue and she was firmly stuck to the spot as she bit her tongue.

“I don’t do mornings either,” Jensen broke the silence with a soft alleviating tone, that somehow made her feel calmer, but also more uptight. Subconsciously [Y/N]’s knees started rattling against one another. Jensen could not only see her anxiety, but he could feel it, it seeped from her like radiation. “Coffee is good, but yeah, morning sex is better.” He tried to brush past her comment which had obviously embarrassed her, but she kept rocking. “So shotgun, what do you want to listen to? I hope you have good music taste.”

“I have the best taste in music,” [Y/N] announced proudly, “But do you?” she cocked an eyebrow directly at him. “CD’s are in the glovebox, judge for yourself,” Jensen tried to hide his anxiety through playful teasing, but his voice did waver for a second and she had caught it, but she brushed it off.

The apprehension had dissipated from inside the vehicle and [Y/N] was now more relaxed, she had her legs crossed on the seat and placed the bulky case of CDs on her lap. “So, are you the type to order your CDs, or, are you messy?” She analyzed his sculpted face with soft features, but he kept a strong poker face. “Well, I think, you’ve got to be a chaotic mess.” [Y/N] flipped open the case, the first CD presented to her through the clear plastic was; Pieces Of Eight by Styx. A pleasantly surprised ‘Oh’ fell from her mouth. Flipping again, Edge Of The Century and Paradise Theatre by Styx were displayed, another ‘oh’ popped from [Y/N]’s mouth. “Foreigner, Journey, AC/DC” she continued as they pulled up to a red light. “Dio, Motley Crue, Ratt, Metallica, Def Leppard, Led Zeppelin, Warrant, Poison, Dokken, Kiss, Deep Purple, Europe, Boston...” she further listed, flicking through the CD case randomly. “I can’t drive, but if I did, this would totally be my CD collection.”

“So you approve?” Jensen asked. For almost a full minute [Y/N] and Jensen’s matching green eyes remained locked on each other.

“The first thing I see is Styx, they’re my favourite, so yeah,” she beamed. “You do have good taste in music Ackles. I’m a little surprised you’re a neat guy though. But I like it.”

“You struck lucky getting me as a carpool buddy huh?”

You wrapped up the song and giggled as you played a few arpeggios.

“Yes! That’s my wife!” Jensen yelled proudly.

You jumped at the sudden sound of your husband’s voice and yelped as the piano cover slammed down on your fingers.

You wrestled your hands out of the piano and turned to your husband, “Jesus Christ! What the hell is wrong with you, Jensen?” You yelled as you rubbed your sore fingers.

“Sorry babe. You were just belting it out. I couldn’t resist,” Jensen said with a sheepish smile.

It was then that you realized that Jensen’s phone was still pointed towards you.

Your eyes widened and you covered your face with your hands, “You were live streaming that?” You could feel your face going red.

Jensen laughed heartily, “Everyone loved it, I promise,” he said as he placed a kiss on your forehead.

“You asshole,” your voice was muffled by your hands as Jensen ended the live stream.

“My question is for Jensen,” a quaking fan said into the microphone.

Jensen stuck his tongue out at Jared playfully before turning his attention back to the fan.

“So you just recently live streamed Y/N singing,” the fan said.

You felt your stomach drop to your feet; you were terrified about what could come next.

“I did do that, and I slept on the couch for a week,” Jared and the crowd laughed.

“With that being said,” the fan chuckled slightly, “Do you think Y/N would ever join you for a duet?”

That’s it. The worst question ever to be asked on the face of this planet.

Jensen looked over at you, and you frantically made gestures for him to tell the fan no.

Jensen laughed when he saw you, “She’s doing this,” Jensen put the mic in his lap and proceeded to mimic you.

The crowd laughed and Jared almost fell out of his seat.

“Babe,” Jensen looked over at you with the puppy dog eyes he knew damn well you couldn’t resist. “For the fans?”

You shook your head vigorously.

Jensen looked at you from under his lashes, intensifying his puppy dog eyes.

You sighed heavily, your chin falling to your chest as you grabbed a mic from a nearby crew member.

“I hate you so fucking much, Jensen,” you said, stepping out onto stage and the crowd went wild.

Jared jumped up from his seat as you neared them, “Good luck, Y/N,” he said in your ear as he walked off stage.

“I don’t like any of you,” you said as you took Jared’s seat.

You heard Jensen laugh from behind you, “You want another week on the couch, babe?”

Jensen’s eyes were the size of saucers as he turned around slowly and shook his head quickly.

“That’s what I thought,” you said. “I didn’t really mean that. I’m just terrified,” you took a few calming breaths.

“We love you!” a fan shouted.

“Aww, thanks,” Jensen said as he sat down and situated his guitar in his lap.

“Not you!” the same fan called back.

Jensen fake pouted as you laughed. You could feel the nerves slowly dissipating.

You cleared your throat as Jensen looked at you, his eyes silently asking if you were okay to continue.

You nodded and drew in a shaky breath.

“Million Reasons?” Jensen asked you.

You nodded once again and the crowd went dead silent, their anticipation evident.

Jensen started strumming the guitar, giving you a goofy smile to calm you down.

You closed your eyes and felt the beat thrum through your veins, it had an instant calming effect on you.

You took another deep breath before singing, “You’re giving me a million reasons to let you go.”

The lyrics seemed to fall out of your mouth. At some point in time, you opened your eyes and looked at Jensen, who was staring right back at you. He winked at you, giving you the confidence to continue.

During the song, whenever you were singing, Jensen would jump in with harmony until you dropped out and let Jensen sing the next verse. When Jensen was singing, you would join in and sing your own harmonies, and the cycle continued until the song was over.

The crowd went nuts as Jensen stopped strumming.

You buried your face in your hands, your shoulders shaking from laughter, “That was in-fucking-sane.”

Jensen got up from his chair, his left hand wrapped around the neck of his guitar. He wrapped his right arm around your shoulders and brought your temple to his lips, “Damn right it was, sweetheart.”

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“Jensen, I just need some time,” you said through your tears as you finally made it to your bedroom and began to throw random articles of clothing into a suitcase.

He sighed loudly, as if you were being irrational, “How much time?”

“I don’t know, Jensen.”

Jensen ran a hand down his face, “Baby, come on.”

You spun around to face your ‘boyfriend’, “No, Jensen. This is not the first time that this has happened. The first time, I forgave it. I actually believed that you were just showing a new PA around town. But now? Now, Jensen, now I don’t know what to do!” You sobbed and tears flew down your face at an alarming speed.

“Y/N, you’re overreacting about this.”

“No I’m not, Jensen,” by now, you’re glaring daggers. “I got a text from my mother asking if we broke up. Confused, I said no. She then proceeds to send me a link to an article. An article in which I see pictures of you kissing another woman!”

You zipped up your suitcase quickly, shoved pass Jensen rather harshly, and stormed out of the apartment you shared with Jensen in Vancouver.

“Y/N!” he called after you.

You spun around, “My mother, Jensen! My mother told me!”

Jensen only sighed, probably thinking you were just overreacting.

“Don’t call me. Don’t text me. Don’t come to see me. Don’t get Jared or Misha or Clif or Jim or Jeffery or Eric or anyone to talk to me for you. Don’t come near me,” you surprised yourself with how calm you were as you said what you needed to stay, and left the apartment building.

He yelled your name over and over, but you never stopped or looked back once as you wiped your tears, climbed into your car, and drove off.

March

That was three months ago.

Now, Jensen sat on the bed that he once shared with you, a half empty bottle of whiskey in his left hand, and his phone in his right.

He screwed up, and he knew that damn well.

Yet he had done as you asked. He gave you your space, and he didn’t call or text for three months.

The radio silence was driving him insane.

It wasn’t like you. Sure, you had a short temper, which made you give Jensen the cold shoulder on more than one occasion, but you were never silent for more than a few days at a time.

Maybe it was the whiskey, or maybe it was the fact that he had gotten a total of twelve hours of sleep in the last three months, but he found himself dialing a number he knew by heart.

It was on the second ring that Jensen realized what could happen if you answered.

You could answer, and the call could end in one of two ways: The first way would be the good one, the preferred route. You would answer, Jensen would apologize profusely; you’d come back and Jensen would make it up to you in every way that he could think of.

Then there was the second route: that was the one that Jensen was terrified of. In this route, you would answer, Jensen would apologize, and you wouldn’t forgive him. You would give him a very firm and legitimate list of reasons why you can’t, and won’t come back. 

The line was picked up, and Jensen quickly plucked up all of his courage as a voice spoke.

“Hello?” a very masculine sounding voice answered.

That sure as hell wasn’t your voice.

He sat there completely and utterly confused as the voice spoke again, “Is anyone there?”

“Yeah, sorry, I just dropped my phone,” Jensen lied quickly. “Is, uh, is Y/N there by any chance?”

“You just missed her,” the man answered. “She just laid down for a nap. Can I take a message?”

With his heart in his stomach Jensen bit out a reply, “No, that’s okay. Just tell her to give me a call.”

“Will do, man.”

The line became silent as the man on the other end ended the call.

Jensen, in a sudden outburst of uncontrolled fury, threw his phone across the room, effectively cracking it beyond repair.

He cradled his head in his hands and cried once more.

As he sat there in the apartment that still smelled like you, he came to the conclusion that there could be someone else.

He took another swing of the whiskey, relishing the burn as it slid down his throat.

Jensen didn’t know what to do anymore.

If a man answers when I call I’ll just hang up, I won’t say anything at all If a man answers I know what I’ll do I’ll lie here awake so I don’t dream about you If a man answers this time of night At least I’ll know somebody’s holding you tight

June

Another three months, and Jensen wasn’t getting any better.

Jared and Gen were starting to worry; they knew how much your disappearance tortured Jensen.

Jensen walked around set in a daze, seemingly lost. His acting was affected too.

He would often show up to set drunk, meaning his scenes were screwed up beyond repair, and he couldn’t remember his lines.

Then came the time at you would infiltrate his dreams.

He dreamed of the things you wanted to do. Go to the Bahamas, get married, have two children and a white picket fence, a dog.

He would dream of you. The way that you smiled when you were truly happy, and the frown that would fill your face as Jensen let you down yet again.

He would dream of your laugh. When you would laugh at something actually funny, or just a pity laugh as you chuckled at some stupid pun Jensen said.

He would dream of the way your hair fell in your face, the way that you would bite your lip when stressed, and your tongue when concentrating.

He would dream of the way you spoke. The light, playful tone you adapted when talking to friends; the soft, gentle tone when talking to your nieces and nephews; the stern and firm way you would talk to those who had done something wrong; the undertone of fiery passion as you talked about something you loved or felt passionate about.

He would dream of you and only you.

This went on for weeks on end, Jensen becoming more and more distraught as time went on.

It came to the point that Jensen had to stop sleeping because every time he closed his eyes, he saw you.

He would drown himself in scotch to keep himself awake. It got to the point that he’d bought out an entire liquor store, and would drink from dusk til dawn.

He was quickly destroying his liver, and the image of you still wasn’t leaving his mind.

It was late in the month, and it had been a nice day when he called yet again.

The weather that day was almost spring like. There was a soft breeze blowing through the trees, and almost no humidity. It was your favorite kind of day. The kind of day when you can step outside and breathe deep, inhaling the scent that you could only describe as nature, and take a walk through the woods.

But he didn’t go outside.

Jensen sat on the edge of his bed like he had been for the past six months, and drank his sanity away.

When he was close to blacking out, and his movements were slow and unsteady, Jensen pulled out his phone.

For what seemed like the thousandth time, he dialed your number and held it up to his ear, praying frantically that it was you who picked up this time.

While the line was ringing, Jensen looked over at the time, 3:24 a.m..

“Hello?” a man’s groggy voice answered.

“Sorry, wrong number,” Jensen sputtered and hit end as fast as humanly possible.

It was 3:24 a.m., and a man answered the phone.

You were being loved by someone else now.

I just gotta tell you girl Maybe somehow make you see How much I want you to come back to me But if a man answers you’ll never know He’ll let you sleep while I let you go

Jensen stood at the foot of his bed.

It was the little things that got to him the most.

It didn’t happen often, but when it did he almost had to tie himself to the bed post to stay out of the liquor cabinet, and away from the phone.

The thing that set him off this time was his new neighbor, actually.

He still lived in the apartment you once shared with him, and a new couple moved in directly to his right.

Jensen was walking down the hallway after a long night of filming. The couple that moved in next to him was just leaving their apartment.

They were slightly too loud to be socially acceptable at four o’clock in the morning.

“I’m going to beat your ass this time,” the woman said to her boyfriend.

“You can try sweetheart, but you won’t succeed,” the man teased.

“Is that a bet?” she asked with raised eyebrow.

“No because I know you won’t beat me.”

Jensen was starting to figure that the man was a cocky son of a bitch.

By now, Jensen was standing at his front door as the couple continued their playful bantering and disappeared into the elevator.

He looked down at the set of keys that he held in his hands and cracked a small smile. He could still remember how you could tease him like that, and make him laugh so hard he cried.

Add that to the very long list of things he missed about you. You could always make him laugh.

Jensen unlocked the front door and took a step inside. It was even the simplest of puns that could have him cradling a stitch on his side. Before he knew what was happening, he found himself in his room.

He fished his phone out of his pocket and stared at it, almost willing for it to ring with your name as the Caller ID.

‘This is the last time,’ he told himself. He would call one last time. If a man answered, he would have to let you go. For good.

With shaking hands, and a billion of butterflies in his stomach, Jensen dialed the number he still knew by memory.

He didn’t really expect an answer, but to his surprise, the line clicked as someone answered.

“Hello?”

With that one word, Jensen ended the call and threw his phone away from him.

He laid on his king sized mattress and cried himself to sleep for the last time.

It was definite, there was no way he was getting you back.

If a man answers you’ll never know If a man answers I’ll let you go If a man answers this time of night If a man answers he’s holding you tight

November

It had been two years and three months since you walked out of Jensen’s life.

It was the season premiere of Supernatural, and he wished you were on his arm instead of the woman who was.

You were invited to the premiere by Eric. Being his old personal assistant sure worked in your favor.

But your presence just made it all that much harder for Jensen.

He had to remind himself more than once that he has a girlfriend now. She’s being treated well by him, and he’s being treated well by her.

As he smiled at the cameras and posed with the woman by his side, Jensen found himself getting lost in thought. Things with his girlfriend were… normal. She was fun to be with and easy to talk to, but there was no spark. No fireworks when they kissed, and no fire in his chest  when they touched. Jensen felt like she was more of a friend, than a lover. All because she wasn’t you.

Her name is Danneel. Jensen met her on the movie he just finished, Ten Inch Hero.

When you saw her with her arm around Jensen’s waist, you couldn’t help the envy that flooded through your veins.

You remembered the time when you would accompany Jensen to these premieres. It would be his arm wrapped around your waist. It would be him poking fun at the other actors there, and he would be the one to keep you smiling the entire time.

An arm squeezing around your waist brought you crashing back to Earth.

“You okay?” James, your boyfriend of three months, asked you.

You nodded your head, “I’m perfectly fine,” you said with a hopefully convincing smile.

The two of you continued down the carpet until you found your seats inside, only stopping briefly for pictures.

Jensen watched you almost the entire night. The premiere was almost over when Jensen realized something: He always told himself that he wasn’t going to settle for the next best thing, but that’s exactly what he was doing.

He screwed everything up with you, so he was settling for Danneel.

Little did he know that you were having similar thoughts. Seeing him so happy with Danneel made you wish you had never asked your brother to answer your phone after you broke up with Jensen.

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