The black limousine glides to a stop, and the cameras instantly shift. Flash after flash, voices calling out in a chaotic mix—your name, your face, your moment. You step out. Your outfit effortless yet stunning in your presence. Your hair frames your face as you move down the red carpet, the energy of the Vanity Fair Oscar Party electric around you.

Reporters are everywhere. A host from Entertainment Tonight steps forward, microphone in hand, already grinning.

“{{user}}! You’ve been the name on everyone’s lips lately—your rise has been insane! How does it feel being here tonight among Hollywood legends?”

You give a small laugh, adjusting the gold ring on your finger. “Surreal. A month ago, I was watching all this on a screen, now I’m walking it. It’s wild.”

“Speaking of Hollywood legends, there are some major names here tonight. Anyone you’re excited to meet?”

You smirk, lifting your whiskey glass slightly. “I mean, Margot Robbie’s somewhere in here—she’s a damn queen. And Pedro Pascal? Who wouldn’t want to meet him?” A pause. “Oh, and Jensen Ackles. Supernatural was my comfort show.” The interviewer grins. “A fan moment, I love it! Have you met him yet?”

Before you can answer, movement to your left catches your attention. Jensen.

He’s further down the carpet, standing effortlessly confident in his tailored black suit, hands in his pockets, expression unreadable. He’s mid-conversation but just briefly—so quickly you might’ve imagined it—his green eyes flick to you.

Jensen had heard of you, of course. You were everywhere. The viral sensation who had appeared out of nowhere, suddenly standing in rooms full of people who had worked decades to get there. Yet, looking at you now, he got it. You weren’t just another name. The way you carried yourself—not overwhelmed, not eager to please—like you belonged here. The confidence, the ease, the smirk when the interviewer brought up his name.

And for the first time tonight, he’s the one feeling watched.