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rogershoe · 4 years

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Lights, Camera, Action

Part Two

(part one)

Masterlist

Summary: You’re a production assistant on the set of Cursed. The night before your first day at work, you opened your laptop to shockingly realise you’d be working with Daniel Sharman (and a plethora of other amazing actors), someone you’d been watching on screen since you were a teenager. You kept your expectations low, the PAs rarely got to interact with the talent…what was your chance?

Word count: 2.4k

Tag list: @sxperncturalimpala67 @mrsaaronkeener @tinygardensoul @disasterday @5am-cigarette @lancelotapricot @demoiselle-en-detresse00 @slytherlight @18somethingpsyche @ceruleanmusings @glxctt @cavillxhenry @lovelyapplessss @hereagainsstuff @linkpk88 @aliceperdida @weeping-redemption @magicalsaladnacho @lancelotapricot @ineedyourskulls @fandomarstrash

Warnings: age gap between reader and Daniel, swearing, slow burn

Notes: I hope you guys like this chapter! I know the story is moving slowly (both the chapters are of the same day ahaha) but this is the reader’s first day on set so I wanted to make it really detailed! Thank you so much for reading and please leave feedback and suggestion..it makes my day!!

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You stood up, dusting your knees to get rid of any residue from the hot tarmac. You couldn’t get the picture of him looking at you out of your mind. You wondered if he would recognize you on set…or whether he thought you were creepy. You started walking towards the door, thoughts still rushing through your mind. Maybe he didn’t think anything of it…or maybe he was still thinking about you, the stalkerish girl that was staring at him…

“Ow!”

Your hand clasped over your mouth as you realized you had opened the grey door too quickly, accidentally hitting one of the crew members.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry” you pleaded, lowering your hand…your first day and you had already injured someone.

The thirty something year old woman looked at you annoyingly, taking off her headset and rubbing her forehead, “Shouldn’t you be inside?”

“Yeah..I’m sorry” your brain went blank as you tried to recall what you were doing outside….

“I was just getting a battery” you said suddenly and gestured to your back pocket.

“A battery? You’re a PA?” she lowered her hand, her expression softening

“Yeah” you said, letting out a breath of relief..maybe she’d know where to find the other PAs, “It’s my first day”

“Oh great!” she suddenly exclaimed, her mood changing..she held out her hand, “I’m the key production assistant, Naomi” she smiled, her bright red lips pulling back to reveal pearly white teeth

You took it, glad but a bit taken aback by her sudden change in mood. Then you realized…you had essentially just injured one of your bosses..shit. How many more things could go wrong today?

“Hey, nice to meet you” you blurted out..the adrenaline from seeing Daniel and hitting the key PA with a metal door was thankfully dying down.

“Has Huey shown you around yet?” she asked, pulling her headset back on

You nodded, “Yeah, he mainly gave me a tour of the basecamp”

“Awesome” she smiled again, “you can follow me” she said, starting to walk towards the basecamp, “I just need to do a couple more jobs in the trailers and then you can get started”

The butterflies in your stomach came alive again… what if she had a job near Daniel’s trailer? Worse yet, what if she had to do something in Daniel’s trailer?

“You coming?” she said squinting and looking back at you..you realized you’d frozen in your spot.

“Yeah..sorry” you stumbled over your words again and jogged up to her. The walk was short, less than a minute…it gave you plenty of time to get a good look at the trailer Daniel had previously gone into. The curtains were drawn over the windows so you couldn’t see anything inside. Maybe there had been a makeup artist already waiting in there for him and he was getting ready.

You forced yourself to stop thinking about him and looked forward at the tens of other trailers. You wondered if any other actors had arrived while you were inside or busy apologizing to Naomi.

As if she read your mind, (these crew members had a gift), she spoke, “the actors should be getting here any second now” she looked at the white watch on her wrist.

You decided to speak up, “I saw Daniel go into a trailer a few minutes ago”

She looked at you, an odd look across her face that you couldn’t read….you quickly looked for any mistakes in your sentence and realized you had called him Daniel

“I mean Mr. Sharman” you stuttered, hoping she wouldn’t get angry

Her expression quickly returned to normal and she suddenly broke out in laughter, clutching her stomach with her hands

“OH, darling, it’s fine!” she straightened up, still smiling brightly

“You don’t have to call him that in front of me..I was just a bit concerned because calling him by his first name implies you know of him” she cleared her throat and you realized you were at the basecamp..”and knowing of these actors can lead to you becoming starstruck or…. or distracted….it’s essentially a recipe for a disaster”

That was unfortunate. You had been trying to tell yourself over and over again that you wouldn’t.. no, couldn’t get starstruck. As she said, it did seem like a “recipe for disaster”.

You looked around at the multiple trailers, and saw that there were actually a few people hovering around six or seven of them…Huey had told you those were the costume department trailers.

Naomi started walking towards them. You forced yourself to keep your eyes facing forward, away from Daniel’s trailer on the right.

There was a cool breeze in the air and you revelled in the feeling, the refreshing coldness washing over your face.

“Naomi can you take these to trailer thirteen?” A woman called out. She had curly long blonde hair and wore bright red glasses.

Naomi smiled and nodded. You both walked towards the trailers and the woman who was standing on the steps into one of the vehicles. The woman headed inside and you both followed her. The inside of the trailer was much larger than you thought and was bursting with racks full of various different costumes. You could’ve spent hours just looking through all the clothes but unfortunately this was work..and you had no such privilege.

The eccentric looking woman looked through one of the racks before pulling out a long black costume. It was covered by clear plastic so you couldn’t really tell what it was but it seemed to be similar to a coat or robe. When she handed it to Naomi you saw that it also had a hood stitched onto the back.

Naomi gestured for you to head out of the trailer and you did so, carefully walking down the metal steps. You stopped beside the trailer, waiting for her next instruction.

She came up to you and handed you the hanger that the costume was hanging on.

“Each trailer is numbered, I’m sure Huey told you that”, you nodded, he had, “the number is on the main trailer door” you nodded again

“I want you to take this” she pointed at the clothing, “to trailer number thirteen”, you thought you saw a slight grin dance across her face for a split second.

“Alright…sure” you said, that sounded simple enough.

“Once you’re done, just come back here” she smiled before walking to one of the many people there

You nodded, smiling profusely and then walking away from the crowded trailers.

You wondered where trailer thirteen was…the costume trailer was twenty five so you started heading back the way you came. You looked at the doors and saw the numbers getting smaller. When you reached trailer fifteen you almost dropped the costume on the ground. It was two doors away from Daniel’s trailer. What was your luck? As much as you wanted to meet Daniel, you weren’t ready. Especially after what had happened earlier.

But this was work and you had to do your job and remain professional no matter the circumstances. You stalked up to the trailer mentally preparing yourself, you swore they could hear your heart beating all the way inside the trailer…… but before you could even put your foot on the first step, a woman walked out. She held a brush in her hand…a make-up brush.

“Oh hey” you said slightly taken aback,

“Hey! This is for Daniel right?” she said, a grin plastered across her face. She seemed sweet, really sweet.

“I think so” you said looking at the costume closely…you saw a small label which D.S was written on, “they told me to bring it to trailer thirteen”

“Well you’re at the right place” you stepped aside to let her move off the stairs. Suddenly another woman emerged from the trailer, her jet black hair was pulled back into a bun and she looked younger, maybe in her early twenties..close to your age actually.

“Oh hey, I’ll take that for you” she beamed and reached her hand out for the costume

You breathed a sigh of deep relief and suddenly all the nerves centered around meeting Daniel left your body. You were about to hand it to her, before the first woman..the supposed makeup artist spoke.

“Jasmine, no, you come with me. I have to show you around the costume department”, Jasmine walked down the steps, an apologetic look on her face. The makeup artist then turned to you, “you can just take that inside and put it on the couch to your left”

“Oh okay sure” you said trying to seem confident. The nerves had returned in full force now but you tried your best to hide them. You hoped your face hadn’t gone completely red. The door had been left slightly open and you slowly walked up the steps, thankful that the two women were now walking away.

You took a deep breath and opened the door. The inside was very different from the costume departments. There was only one rack in the corner and it was empty, there was a small purple couch on your left and a small door right in front of you which you guessed was to the bathroom. But the most interesting part was the long mirror that stretched across almost the whole wall opposite the door. It was similar to the set up at a salon, with a lower long table parallel to the mirror (supported by the wall) adorned with various different sorts of brushes, hairdryers, tweezers and three black leather spinning chairs also placed there.

In the middle chair, sat Daniel Sharman.

Your breath caught in your throat as you stepped into the trailer. You were afraid your legs might give way any second. He was on his phone, his hair tied back in a bun…a bored look on his face. You couldn’t help but think about how attractive he looked. His keys lay on the table in front of him, next to a magazine. You carefully walked towards the couch and remembered the rule about how you never talked to the talent. You were thankful for it at this point….at least you didn’t have to try and make conversation. He was still looking at his phone… had he even noticed you had come in? The clear plastic covering of the robe crinkled loudly as you placed it down on the couch, breathing heavily.

He looked up suddenly, his blue eyes catching yours in the mirror as your head jerked up to see if he had heard. He seemed alarmed at first but his expression softened when he realised that you had only just brought his costume.

He laughed softly, “You scared me for a second there” he said, you could clearly hear his British accent.

“Oh…sorry..” you said smiling anxiously. You knew you were very clearly blushing, you just hoped he hadn’t taken any notice. He hadn’t, he was looking right down at his phone again. You straightened your back, realizing he really didn’t care about whether you were blushing or not…he didn’t actually care about you or what you were doing at all.

You walked back to the door. As you pulled it open, you heard his voice again,

“Thank you..”

You couldn’t help but smile as you muttered “your welcome” and stepped out of the trailer. You took a small glance at him before closing the door and saw that he had a slight grin on his face as he put down his phone and picked up the magazine.

8:20 am

It was almost time for filming and you couldn’t be more excited. Naomi had given you a walkie talkie and also a headset so you could communicate with the assistant directors and also the rest of the production assistants. You had been introduced to one other PA, his name was Louis. He had tan skin and shoulder length curly black hair. Cursed was his third and largest project yet.

He tapped you on the shoulder suddenly. You were standing in the studio waiting for the actors to arrive on set so they could start filming. You turned around, your arms crossed over your chest,

“yeah?”

He pointed to where the hallway entered the studio. Through it came Katherine Langford dressed in what looked like a nun’s clothes. You smiled widely…..first Daniel now Katherine? This day had been stressful and demanding and anxiety-ridden..but hopefully, finally getting to see all these actors play their characters would make it worth it.

Your heart beat faster in excitement as she walked over to the director for her instructions.

Louis spoke into your ear, “When they’re about to start filming, Huey will say rolling into the earpieces… then every PA will repeat that after him so we can make sure everyone on the set knows”

He saw you had a confused look on your face and explained, “only a few people on set have a headset, and the AD cant scream loud enough for everyone on set to hear”

You nodded then, understanding “So I just have to say rolling?”

He nodded turning back to the set.

Katherine was standing in the marble looking room that connected to what looked like a dining area with long wooden tables.

You suddenly saw Louis swivel his head towards the hallway and you did the same, your eyes widening at what you saw. Daniel was dressed in what you guessed was the long black costume you had brought into his trailer. His hood was raised over his head and as he walked into the studio you noticed that he had tear like markings drawn onto his face. Your mind wandered off to where you didn’t want it to…you couldn’t deny that he looked hot.

“He looks sick, doesn’t he?” you heard Louis whisper into your ear

“He really does,” you said, nodding eagerly. You were tired but seeing the actors in their costumes was like a splash of cold water to your face. Maybe you wouldn’t fall asleep on set after all.

Please lmk what age you’d like the reader to be in the comments! I was thinking of keeping her in her early to mid 20s since that would fit with the fact that she had been watching Daniel since she was a teenager :))

Part three

#Daniel sharman #daniel sharman x reader #daniel sharman fanfic #daniel sharman fluff #daniel sharman x oc #daniel sharman fic #daniel sharman fanfiction #cursed fanfiction #cursed #cursed netflix #cursed x reader #cursed fanfic #netflix #weeping monk #lancelot #Daniel sharman one shot #Daniel sharman imagine #Weeping monk x reader #Lancelot x reader

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waveypedia · 4 years

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Home is Wherever I’m With You [HDLW Sibling Week]

Day 1 - Adventure

Ao3

“You guys are gonna love this one!” Webby crowed, her face pressed against the glass of the plane window. “Della and I have crafted the perfect adventure. It’s full of traps, puzzles, and opportunities for daring stunts!”

“So what’s in store for us today?” Dewey called from the pilot seat. It was his first adventure as a solo pilot, even though he’d been taking lessons from Launchpad and Della for months. “Death-defying stunts? Villanous curses? Bad baddies?”

Webby grinned back at him enthusiastically. “We might see a sword horse!!”

Huey flipped through his Junior Woodchuck Guidebook. “Statistically, the chances of us encountering a unicorn are little to none. From our travels, unicorns mostly reside in glades deep in forests. We’re flying over the tundra.”

Dewey pulled a hand off one of the Sunchaser’s contraptions to gently punch Huey in the shoulder. “Look at you, calculating the likelihood of a unicorn spotting. Nerd.”

Huey rolled his eyes and shut the guidebook. He leaned back in the copilot’s seat, where he was keeping a careful watch that everything was running smoothly - just like Donald when Dewey piloted solo during full-family adventures. “The numbers don’t lie.”

“But did you take snow sword-horses into account?” Webby asked, finally turning her attention away from their descent to look at Huey. “They’re incredibly rare, but they live solo lives out here in the tundra. They canter at the speed of the wind!! Some brave adventurers report sighting one, but no one can ever get proof.”

“Sounds like a glorified Bigfoot,” Louie offered from his place in one of the Sunchaser’s seats.

“But we can fight it!!” Webby interjected enthusiastically. “And earn its trust!! They say if you do, it’ll grant you one piece of sage advice for your future.”

Dewey frowned thoughtfully. “Well, not many people can say they’ve been granted advice from a snow unicorn. Anyway, coming in hot!!”

The Sunchaser made a less-than-graceful landing (Launchpad was his teacher, all right), sending snow flying up in clouds of soft sparkles around them. The four kids grabbed their gear and buckled up the last of their snow-protective clothes before stepping out of the plane and onto the snow. Webby was first, and her eyes sparkled with excitement as she took in the terrain for a moment.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Webby exclaimed, gesturing to the expanse of snow sparkling brightly in the sunlight. “And to think! Today, we’ll be one of the first to see and conquer a real snow sword-horse!!”

Louie slipped a canteen out of his pack and took a sip of some hot chocolate he had saved. “Yep, looks pretty snow-y.”

Dewey punched a fist in the air. “I’m ready to fight a unicorn!!”

Huey snorted affectionately and pulled out his rusty, trusty compass, emblazoned with the Junior Woodchuck logo on the side. “We go north first, right Webby?”

Webby opened her backpack and took out a slightly torn map, tied with a piece of glittery pink string. She was nodding before she’d even unfurled the map, but it confirmed her answer. “Yep!! We go left until we hit the rock shaped auspiciously like a tornado, and then we turn right. And then, when we get to the lone pine tree hidden behind the stone hills, we walk in a circle three times around it and follow the sun!”

Huey frowned. “A rock shaped like a tornado? That’s an… interesting description.”

Louie raised his head to the sky and covered his forehead with his hand to block out the blindingly bright light, reflecting off the snow and clouds. “Uhh, Webs, we can’t see the sun.”

Webby shrugged, positive as ever. “No worries! All the legends say that won’t be an obstacle. We’ll figure it out when we get there!!”

Without further ado, the pink-adorned duck strode off in the direction of their adventure. “Let’s go!!”

Dewey followed quickly behind her, rambling excitedly about how fun it would be to fight a unicorn. Huey and Louie exchanged a glance and a shrug, and then tagged along.

As they walked, Huey tried to start off a round of some of the hiking songs he had picked up at the Junior Woodchucks, but was quickly rebuffed. However, when Dewey tried to start a rendition of “1,000 Bottles of Apple Juice on the Wall” (the Uncle Donald-approved version he regretted teaching Dewey when they were on a road trip when the boys were five years old), Webby and Louie were suddenly much more enthusiastic about Huey’s options. He was more than happy to oblige, and even got them going on some sea shanties when the tunes started getting overly repetitive. Dewey grumbled for a bit, but before long, Huey and Webby’s collective, contagious enthusiasm had infected him, and he was singing along as loudly and proudly as the rest of them.

When the tornado-shaped rock first came into sight, the group of four was lagging behind Huey’s precisely-calculated pace for the best optimal productivity on adventures. But the sight spurred Webby’s already-high excitement, and she nearly sprinted the rest of the way.

When the rest of the group reached Tornado Rock, panting, Webby was leaning against it with barely contained enthusiasm. “Took you long enough,” she said cheekily, but with no malice and a beaming smile.

Louie shrugged and flopped down on the ground. “Ugh, Webs, why’d you have to run? There’s no time limit.”

Webby shrugged, still beaming. “The spirit of adventure!” She checked her watch and sat gently on the ground next to Louie. “So, lunchtime?”

Dewey plopped down beside her, and Huey followed suit. “I thought you’d never ask!!”

Louie rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, we know, you were flying the plane, you didn’t get a chance to snack.”

Dewey ripped open his lunchbox and grabbed impatiently at the first thing he could - a sandwich. He opened the foil easily and stuffed it in his mouth. “I’m hungry, Louie!”

As his brothers squabbled in the background, Huey glanced up at the rock towering above them. “Huh, I guess it really is actually shaped like a tornado,” he conceded quietly as he unpacked his lunch. “Accurate description.”

Webby followed his gaze, tracing the grooves and cracks in the rock with her eyes. “Yeah. You know, Isabella Finch, Uncle Scrooge’s inspiration, was the one who named it!!”

Huey perked up. “Really? That’s interesting. I don’t think I remember an expedition to this specific tundra in her journals.”

Webby shrugged, smiling. “It was a group expedition with some other seasoned adventurers. George Mallardy, for one.”

“The guy that Uncle Scrooge sort of was responsible for his death?” Huey asked apprehensively, raising his eyebrows. “I’m not entirely sure I want to be following in his footsteps.”

“But they’re the only other people to accurately depict and record tundra sword-horses!!” Webby exclaimed, leaning forward. “Wouldn’t it be so cool if us, for our first solo adventure, were the ones to do it second?”

“I’d rather be first!!” Dewey called.

Huey shrugged. “I guess so. I am curious about snow unicorns. If there’s only one depiction of them, even if it is from Isabella Finch, how do we know it’s accurate?”

“I guess we’ll have to find out,” Webby replied, her eyes sparkling.

The kids packed up their lunch, making sure to leave no trace behind, and continued on their trek. Webby tracked their progress with a map, watching carefully for the hills of stone that would eventually rise out of the fog. Snow started to fall gently while they walked, and Dewey made it a game to see who could catch the most snowflakes on their tongue. Soon they were all running in uneven paths and laughing - or laughing as best they could with their tongues stuck out. By the time the first gray hints of the stone hills crested out of the clouds, Louie was winning staunchly, but Dewey refused to be beat. He nearly fell forward into a snowbank, but stubbornly kept going.

Their amicable chatter died down as the hills came close enough to touch - and Webby did touch, reaching out a purple-gloved hand to wipe away a few errant flakes of snow. The group paused, speechless at the sheer size and gentleness of the rolling hills.

Webby took in a deep breath, in and out, making a large cloud of breath in the cold air. “Snow sword-horses, Isabella Finch’s legacy, here we come.”

With Webby in the lead, the four ducks rounded the hills and finally made their way into the small clearing in the middle of the stone. And found…

“Nothing,” Webby said, her word hanging in the quiet air. Surprise and disappointment were etched across her face as she stared at the empty clearing.

Huey, ever the Dad Friend, snapped out of his stupor first and stepped forward to lay a hand on Webby’s shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. Maybe we made a mistake.”

“Yeah, a mistake,” Louie echoed. “It was probably George Mallardy. He almost caused our uncle’s death. Can’t really trust that guy.”

“Maybe the sword horse is still around here somewhere,” Dewey added.

Webby pressed her beak tightly together. “Yeah, you’re right! Let’s keep looking.”

They scoured the clearing for any hidden passages. Huey analyzed the map carefully, looking for any possible errors or misleads. Dewey took it upon himself to rap each and every inch of the stone hills, looking for a secret passage. Louie walked in circles around the hills, looking for any other landmarks.

After an hour had passed of searching with no luck, the group reunited in the center of the clearing, where the pine tree would be.

“Any luck?” Huey asked grimly, already knowing in his gut what the answer would be.

Louie shook his head regretfully.

“No,” Dewey muttered, the disappointment clear on his face.

Webby rubbed her toe anxiously against the snowy ground. She opened her mouth, clearly unhappy, and then froze, surprise overtaking her features.

“Webby?” Louie asked cautiously, but she ignored him in favor of leaning down and brushing snow away from a certain spot on the ground. Her brothers stared, frozen, for a moment. But when a splash of dark green peeked out from the snow, Dewey instantly dropped down into a crouch to help her. Huey and Louie followed suit in realization, and in no time they had cleared a little patch of snow away, revealing a tiny pine tree sprout.

“Huh,” Dewey said, breaking the tentative silence that had lain between the four of them while they dug. “I did not expect this.”

“It’s only a baby,” Webby breathed.

Louie frowned. “That’s weird. Isabella Finch and George Mallardy probably came here like a century ago. How could the tree be only a sapling?”

“Maybe it got cut down and replanted,” Huey reasoned logically.

“Or maybe it’s like a phoenix,” Webby breathed, the corners of her beak turning up. “It’ll come back!

Dewey smiled. “It already is.”

Huey stood up, and held out a hand for his siblings. “We should get back to the plane. Maybe back at home we can do more research on magical pine trees and mystical tundras.”

Webby smiled softly and pushed herself to her feet, the last out of the four of them. “I’d like that.”

She unfurled the map again, and they trekked back to the plane, a little subdued but still energetic. Despite this branch of their adventure being mostly complete, their return seemed to go by in a blink. Soon they were boarding the plane and shedding their snow gear. Dewey settled into the pilot seat and, after a moderately smooth takeoff, they were in the air.

After about a half an hour of flipping through his Junior Woodchuck Guidebook, Huey slipped out of the copilot’s chair and made his way over to Louie and Webby. Louie was scrolling through something on his phone, and Webby was reading one of the books Scrooge had given her for her birthday. Darkwing Duck was playing idly on the Sunchaser’s tenuously supported TV in the background, but neither were paying attention to it.

“Look at this,” Huey announced, sliding into the seat next to Webby and holding out his book. It was open to one of the pages about plants and fauna. Huey tapped a small paragraph in the corner with his finger, and Louie and Webby leaned in to read.

“Longer-living plants, like redwoods, go through many stages in their lives, many of which last long periods of time,” Louie read aloud. He glanced at Huey. “That’s purposefully vague. I don’t think it relates to the pine tree.”

Huey’s eyes glinted, like they always did when he got excited about a research project. “Maybe it’s purposefully vague. Either way, it’s a good starting point for an investigation!”

He smiled. “We may uncover the mystery behind this pine tree and the unicorn just yet.”

Louie typed in a search on his phone. “Heck yeah we will. Ducks don’t back down, remember?”

Webby tucked a colorful bookmark in her book and set it on the chair beside her. “You’re right.” She pulled out her own phone and started to search too.

“This adventure is looking to be bigger than ever!!”

hi this is very messy n bad cause i wrote it in an hour but i also have a lot of other big projects goin on (i’m writing the script for an instaronpa!) but i don’t usually have the motivation/time to do events like these. i’m going to try to do a little bit each day, so the parts will be shorter than what i usually write, but hopefully there will be 7 of them!! what i did was i set a timer for 30 minutes and tried to do just that, but i was only halfway done so i kept going. idk if i’ll have the motivation to keep doing that though

anyway i think this is gonna be like a connected story btw. all the more pressure to finish it ahaha. i hc that in this story, they’re all a little older, like teenagers (hence why they’re on an adventure by themselves). there’s one comic where dewey really wants to learn how to fly, so i snatched that headcanon when i realized if they’re on their own, they need a pilot. i considered briefly having Launchpad fly them in and not go, but I like Dewey flying. The whole “Webby planning an adventure” shtick is a brief nod to a couple lines from my group chat fic, where Della inspires Webby to plan an adventure. Since that happens when they’re at their canon ages, this isn’t the adventure they’re talking about. it’s just my inspiration.

title is a lyric from Home by Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeroes. (two for two on using secular songs I sung at camp last year for fic titles haha)

see you tomorrow for the next installment of Home is Wherever I’m With You!

@hdlwsiblingweek2020

#ducktales #ducktales 2017 #dt17 #huey duck #louie duck #dewey duck #webby vanderquack #hdlw #wavey writes #my fanfic #ducktales fanfiction #hdlwsiblingweek

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reddielibrary · 5 years

Photo

My lonely heart calls

Prompt: “Listen, I know I originally came over here to talk about the noise but OMG you are so high right now like how are you even standing so no objections because I’m taking care of you until you’re sober" AU

Written by: Alexis | @quixoticquest

Word count: 3903

*click title to read on ao3

The eighties had not been a fun time for Eddie Kaspbrak. In fact, he preferred to forget the decade altogether. The local top forty radio station begged to differ, though, and wouldn’t you know, that’s what most people wanted to listen to when he was chauffeuring them around in a limousine. Jackson, Collins, Benatar and Gabriel all competing to make Eddie relive the worst years of his life. His only reprieve came at home, in the privacy of his apartment, where he was free to listen to whatever he wanted, eat cereal for dinner, and turn in at nine thirty promptly.

Unless it was Thursday night.

Letting the days go by, let the water hold me down Letting the days go by, water flowing underground Into the blue again, after the money's gone Once in a lifetime, water flowing underground

Eddie groaned, throwing himself back against his couch. It had been like this for three weeks now. Like clockwork. Every Thursday, about an hour after he got home, the music would start in the next apartment over. Some eighties-loving sociopath and his endless collection of synth-saturated music that had come out when Eddie was a kid.

The only reason he hadn’t complained yet was because he was new to the apartment complex. Eddie had gained a reputation at his old place for being the overbearing neighbor, and he hadn’t even realized until he’d called the landlord over a party full of people not even five years younger than him. He wondered what kind of crusty curmudgeon he’d turned into, at the ripe old age of twenty-four - also, why wasn’t he getting invited to parties like that?

This time, though, it was personal. There was no reason to be blasting music, no matter what awful decade, on a weeknight. Noise curfew wasn’t in effect for another few hours, but Eddie had time to kill, and he couldn’t hear Seinfeld.

He marched himself over to the adjacent apartment, fists balled and ready for knocking. Here, the Talking Heads’s redundant lyrics were louder than ever.

Same as it ever was Same as it ever was Same as it ever was Same as it-

Eddie pounded on the door, just hard enough to drown out the words, but not the thumping bass. By the end of it, his knuckles ached as he cradled his hand to his chest, but the distinct sound of approaching footsteps could be heard from inside, so he had succeeded either way.

The door swung open, and a full frontal barrage of music hit Eddie square in the face - right alongside a thick cloud of earthy musk.

“Hey, neighbor, what can I do ya for?” the tenant drawled, just loud enough to be heard as he pushed his glasses up with the back of his hand.

And you may ask yourself Where does that highway go to? And you may ask yourself Am I right? Am I wrong? And you may say to yourself,

"My God! What have I done?" Eddie wondered.

His mother’s voice came screeching from some dark corner of his mind. WEED?! In my house?! Not that this was Eddie’s house, or even his apartment, or that he had ever touched the stuff. More likely than anything, he’d be dead if Sonia Kaspbrak had caught him high, stoned, or otherwise.

“Are you okay?” Eddie pronounced over the song, feeling his priorities shift from angry neighbor to medic. Just the sight of the guy - red-rimmed eyes magnified by dorky specs, leaning dangerously in the doorway - was enough to have all Eddie’s deeply ingrained warning bells going off.

“Better than ever, now that you’re here. Finally it’s a party.” Neighbor dude grinned so wide Eddie thought his cheeks might split open. “Do you want to come in? I’ve got some chips and Fanta - ooh, sorry, Orange Crush. Hope that’s not a dealbreaker.”

“Thanks very much.” Eddie barrelled past without much ceremony - thinking maybe he shouldn’t be so eager to act like he owned the place, but he had been invited inside after all.

Better yet, he could turn down the music himself.

“I’m Richie,” the stoned idiot stated as he shuffled down the front hall, while Eddie searched for a stereo. “I think I helped you bring in a box of baking supplies when you moved in.”

“Oh yeah, I remember.” Eventually Eddie pulled his shirt collar when the skunky stench became a bit too much. “I’m Eddie.”

“Nice to meetcha proper, Eddie. Glad to put a face to a KitchenAid mixer to a name.”

Eddie eventually found the big stereo system behind the couch, complete with speakers and a big honking volume dial that he used to turn the music down far enough that he could barely hear the Huey Lewis song that came on next.

“Hey hey hey! What are you doing?” Richie demanded, landing hard enough on the couch to send it teetering in Eddie’s direction for a single, terrifying moment. “You can’t just waltz into a man’s home and turn off his music! Didn’t your mama teach you manners?”

“It’s too loud,” Eddie answered, feeling himself slow his words as he stared down those bloodshot eyes (as if he was talking to a non-English speaker, and not a stoner). “That’s why I came over here, to ask if you’d turn it down.”

“Well I don’t have to turn it off. Noise curfew isn’t until ten.”

Eddie sighed, and reached for the dial again. He cranked the song as loud as he dared.

Don't need money, don't take fame Don't need no credit card to ride this train It's strong and it's sudden and it's cruel sometimes But it might just save your life That's the power of love

“Is that okay?” he asked.

“I can live with that.” Richie flopped away to lie on his back, humming along to the instrumental section. “Hey, do you want to smoke?”

“No,” Eddie said immediately - which made him realize his next order of business.

“Actually,” he went on, rounding the couch in search of paraphernalia, “where’s your, uh, blunt? Joint? Bong?”

“Uhhhhh.” Richie stared at him for a couple seconds, and finally pointed over toward the window at the back of the apartment. “My bowl is over there.”

“Thanks.”

The glass tube didn’t look anything like what Eddie was used to from pot (not that he had very much experience), but there was definitely marijuana in it, smoldering remnants releasing dank smoke into the evening air. Eddie opened the window wider, dumped out the contents of the bowl onto the fire escape, and pocketed the thing.

Eddie’s experience with marijuana began and ended catching a whiff of it off certain students in college. He knew sometimes his friend Bill smoked, but other than that Eddie had, and wanted, nothing to do with it.

He had, however, helped his friends through drunken stupors and hangovers on many occasions. This couldn’t be that different, right? They were both drugs. He’d just stay to make sure Richie didn’t drown in his own vomit or anything.

“I don’t think you should smoke anymore tonight,” Eddie said as he rounded the couch again.

“Is that so?” he asked, a smirk curling into one corner of his mouth.

“Yes. You’re high as a kite, I don’t want you to go overboard.”

Richie snorted hard enough to sound like it hurt, and rolled toward the floor, laughing like a hyena. Eddie stood watching, bewildered.

“Yeah, okay, I’ll stay in me quarters, captain,” Richie answered when he had recovered, taking on some kind of pirate voice as he saluted Eddie. “Won’t be goin’ overboard this time, I’ll keep me sea legs alright.”

“...Okay,” Eddie uttered, deciding he was better off not unpacking that one. Instead, he sank into the recliner next to the couch. Both pieces of furniture did a pretty good job of framing the tiny area that constituted the den.

“Do you want to watch TV?” Eddie asked. “Seinfeld is on.”

Before Richie could answer, The Power of Love gave way to a new song: chant, and a guitar solo ripping right on after. The toked idiot scrambled to sit.

Love is like a bomb, baby, c'mon get it on Livin' like a lover with a radar phone Lookin' like a tramp, like a video vamp

“Demolition woman, can I be your man?” Richie screeched in a tone matching the singer’s, echoing himself as he air guitared with more soul than Eddie could ever dream of having.

“I hate this song,” he grumbled to himself, thinking Richie wouldn’t hear over his own rock fantasy, and the actual track.

He was wrong.

Richie gasped. “This song’s awesome!”

“The singer sounds like he’s whining,” Eddie griped, wishing he’d kept his mouth shut.

“Joe Elliott is singing his heart out. And it’s about sex, which is like, arguably more awesome than the song itself.”

I'm hot, sticky sweet From my head to my feet, yeah

“Sticky sweet from my head to my feet,” Eddie repeated dully. “How moving.”

Not to mention, Eddie wasn’t all that interested in sex with a woman to begin with, demolition or otherwise.

Richie waved his comments away with his hands, only to twist over the edge of the couch. He managed to reach the stereo, and skipped to the next song.

I've been hearing your heartbeat inside of me I keep your photo right beside my bed Livin' in a world of fantasies I can't get you out of my head

“Oh.” Eddie sat back in his chair, arms crossed. “I don’t mind Whitney Houston.”

“Don’t mind.” Richie huffed dramatically. “Is there anything you like or do you judge everything on a scale of how much you hate it?”

“I just don’t like eighties music, okay?” Eddie stated. “It’s not my thing. I like what’s popular now. Whitney’s best stuff came out this decade.”

“Well what is it? Not a fan of synthesizer stuff? Don’t like rock in general? You more of a nineties divas kind of guy?”

“No, it’s just not my thing. I guess bad associations and stuff.”

Richie tilted his head, propped up on his hand, on the armrest. “What kinds of associations?”

Eddie scoffed. “That’s a whole decade’s worth of explanation.”

“Well we got time to kill,” Richie replied, sweeping his arms around the empty apartment in a grand gesture. “Just try to keep it under a decade, I got work tomorrow.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, tonguing at his cheek to avoid a smile. Was he really about to unload on a stoned stranger why he didn’t like a particular type of music?

I get so emotional, baby Every time I think of you I get so emotional, baby Ain't it shocking what love can do?

Well, he was high off his ass. Maybe he wouldn’t remember.

“I guess I just don’t like the eighties in general,” Eddie explained, shifting to tuck his legs closer. “My mom was kind of a bitch, and I got bullied a lot. So whenever I hear any of these songs I just remember long car rides to the doctors or getting yelled at, or hiding from assholes at the arcade. Soundtrack to the worst years of my life.”

“Dude, I feel,” Richie said, a hand flying out to put on top of Eddie’s. He short-circuited for a second, and yanked his hand back to tuck under his chin. “But that’s why I like the music! It distracted me from the shit going on in my life.”

Richie jumped up on the couch, sneakers and all. Eddie jolted upright when he heard a dangerous creak of springs.

“If I was getting reamed out by my folks, or dealing with pea brain jocks at school, I knew I could always go to my room and turn on the radio at the end of the day.” Richie moved back and forth to the beat, probably stuck in some memory of being twelve and jumping up and down on his bed. “Queen, and Bowie, and Journey, and Bon Jovi raving about the underdog. It’s not all sex and love, my friend, it’s about finding your voice and powering through!”

He dove behind the couch hard enough to shake a couple shelves, and Eddie rushed to his feet to see if Richie had killed himself. But he was fine, skipping through the songs until he found what he was looking for. A rhythmic baseline resounded from the speakers.

“Ice Ice Baby?” Eddie asked after a moment, lip curled in disdain.

Richie shot to his feet. “You’re really pushing it.” He began to bob his head, mumbling along to the song, and Eddie realized he was an idiot.

Pressure! pushing down on me Pressing down on you, no man ask for Under pressure, that burns a building down Splits a family in two Puts people on streets

Richie babbled the interlude of gibberish with the singer, snapping his fingers to the beat as he gently herded Eddie back around the couch. It took him a second to realize the stoned jackass was trying to dance with him.

“No, Richie, that’s okay-”

“It's the terror of knowing what the world is about,” Richie sang, just about cornering Eddie at the coffee table. “Watching some good friends screaming ‘Let me out!’ Pray tomorrow gets me higher-”

“I pray tomorrow gets you sober,” Eddie proclaimed. Richie didn’t seem to hear him though. He was just about back to his bum-bum-bums and dee-da-dos.

The beat was pretty catchy, Eddie decided. Which was the case with a lot of eighties music, whether he liked it or not. There was a reason Vanilla Ice had sampled the bassline.

It couldn’t hurt, he also decided, if he nodded a little to the music. Richie seemed to like that, and mirrored Eddie’s awkward movements with a lot more gesticulation.

Even as he wondered whether or not he should be letting Richie move around so much, Eddie felt himself relax enough to move a little more, as much as he allowed himself without shaking the foundation. If he forgot all his obligations for a second, and his crummy childhood, then it was easy to get lost.

Can't we give ourselves one more chance?

“Why can't we give love that one more chance?” Richie caterwauled.

Why can't we give love, give love, give love, give love Give love, give love, give love, give love, give love?

They danced like dumbasses with no rhythm for as long as it took several more tracks to play on the stereo. Richie knew the words better than Eddie could ever hope to, and his voice wasn’t that great, but Eddie was happy to let him wear himself out all the same.

Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go faded out to nothing, the next song came in with a familiar voice, humming and ad libbing to the beat.

“Whitney!” Richie cried with his arms cast wide. “Your favorite!”

Eddie panted, catching his breath. “She’s not my-”

“Clock strikes upon the hour, and the sun begins to fade,” Richie crooned, singing into his fist like there was a microphone. He did a very good job matching the voices each time, even Whitney Houston’s velvety cadence. “Still enough time to figure out how to chase my blues away!”

He hopped up on the table for his performance, and this time Eddie didn’t try to stop him. Richie kicked magazines every which way as he shimmied and shook, singing his heart out.

Oh, I wanna dance with somebody I wanna feel the heat with somebody Yeah, I wanna dance with somebody-

Suddenly Richie thrust the pantomimed microphone up to Eddie’s lips. He was just lost enough in the music to open his mouth in time.

“With somebody who loves me!” Eddie exclaimed, watching as Richie grinned at him, eyes shining behind his glasses.

A second later, the microphone was cast away so that Richie could jump off the table, grabbing Eddie’s hands in exchange. Twisting to and fro, heads thrown back, to the tune of a bangin’ good song.

Doncha wanna dance with me baby? Doncha wanna dance with me boy? Hey doncha wanna dance with me baby?

“What the hell is going on?”

Eddie froze, tripping over his own feet in the process. There was another stranger standing at the foot of the front hall, keys in one hand, looking at them like they’d become a two-headed dancing monstrosity.

“Stanley! Come join us! Dance your fucking heart out!” Richie kept on rocking, but Eddie shuffled away, flushing on his neck as if he’d been caught doing something much worse.

Stanley, Edde figured, huffed, and put his things down to march into the den. “It’s almost noise curfew, Richie. You’re done for the night.” He turned the stereo off completely, much to Richie’s anguish - and, actually, a little bit to Eddie’s.

“Sorry, who are you?” Stanley asked Eddie, looking absolutely unamused.

“Oh - I’m your neighbor,” Eddie offered, wiping a bit of sweat from his hairline.

“Oh yeah. I think we’ve seen each other in the mail room.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Why are you jumping around my apartment though?”

“Uh.” Eddie glanced at Richie - only to find him slumped on the couch, already knocked out. Leaving him all alone to deal with the annoyed roommate.

“He was high,” Eddie tried, motioning to the snoozing lump that had once been a dancing, screaming idiot. “I came to ask him to turn down the music, but I didn’t want him to get hurt or pass out or throw up or anything, so I stuck around.”

“What?” Stanley’s brows furrowed together. “He’s not drunk. He’s high, he’s fine.”

Eddie felt his shoulders drop. “Oh.”

“He eats some crap and listens to his music really loud and eventually tuckers himself out.” Stanley sent an accusatory glance in Richie’s direction. “He’s not really supposed to of course, but I don’t care and as long as he does it when I’m not around then I don’t have to get in trouble for it.”

“Oh,” Eddie repeated. Only to realize something and add, “Okay, but he was jumping around and acting like an idiot, singing and shit. You sure he didn’t drink too?”

Stanley snorted. “That’s just how he is. I think he gets nostalgic or something when he’s high. I got him some eighties hits CDs for his birthday so he’d stay off my CD shelf.”

One more “Oh,” out of Eddie. His gaze drifted to Richie - absolutely out cold on the couch. Safe and sound, apparently. In no immediate danger due to his substance abuse. Eddie felt his neck warm again.

“That was nice of you, though,” Stanley mentioned, plucking Richie’s glasses off his face to fold up and set on the coffee table. “And if he plays his music too loud, don’t hesitate to come over and tell him to cut it out.”

“Thanks,” Eddie murmured.

“Now, if you wouldn’t mind, I wasn’t really planning on guests tonight...”

“Right.” Eager to get out of Stanley’s hair, Eddie hurried for the front door, offering a quick goodbye before seeing himself out. His own apartment was just a short walk away, and soon he was back in his own home.

His own, utterly silent home.

He didn’t realize until he started undressing for the night that he still had the bowl, when it fell out of the pocket of his jeans.

***

Eddie didn’t get a moment to himself until almost noon, when he found ten minutes between rides to grab a coffee, and sit in a normal chair for a second. If he wasn’t inclined to get promoted soon, he would have dropped chauffeuring weeks ago.

The tinny ringtone of his Nokia sounded in his pocket, and he hurried to answer without spilling his coffee.

“H’llo?” Eddie asked, taking a sip afterward.

“Hey! It’s Richie.”

Eddie managed to swallow before he spit his drink all over the window in front of him.

“How the hell did you get my number?”

“The landlord gave it to me. I told him you borrowed something from me and I needed to get in touch with you soon to get it back.”

“I didn’t borrow-” Eddie clammed up, and remembered the glass tube tucked away in his sock drawer, where he had put it in fear of the landlord doing random apartment checks for some reason.

“Oh, yeah. I’ll bring it back after work. Sorry, I forgot I had it.”

“No problem, no problem. I’ve got a spare laying around somewhere.”

“Oh. Neat.”

There was a beat of silence. Eddie heard Richie cough and sigh dramatically on the other end.

“I had fun last night,” he finally said, while Eddie rubbed his lip raw with his teeth. “I hope Stan didn’t scare you too much. And if he didn’t, maybe you’d want to come over and learn to like eighties music again. We could dance too, if you’re into that. It’s kind of cool to do stuff with someone else, and not just sit there by myself with the stereo going.”

“That sounds like fun,” Eddie said honestly - even if he was a little embarrassed Richie remembered everything after all. Weed really wasn’t alcohol at all, huh.

“And I won’t smoke. I’m not sure I dance better either way, but I guess we’ll find out.”

“Actually…” Eddie glanced around the tiny coffee shop - as if anyone gave a shit who he was, or what he was saying.

Nevertheless, he kept his voice low. “It’s not something I want to make a habit of, but if you were being serious when you offered, I’d like to try it.”

“Smoking pot?” Richie asked after a second.

“Yeah. You seem to know what you’re doing. Maybe just...ventilate the area better.”

“Yeah, okay. We could do it on the fire escape if you’re nervous. I know for a fact that the landlord goes out for bingo Sunday nights, so…”

“Sounds good.”

“Why the sudden interest?”

“Oh I don’t know,” Eddie murmured, feeling warmth creep into his cheeks as he traced the lid of his coffee cup. As if he were a flustered teenager again. “I think I could afford to mellow out a bit. Just for one night, maybe. And learn a thing or two about what it’s like.”

Richie laughed on the other end. “I can jive with that.”

For once, Eddie let the smile twitch onto his face. “Great.”

There was a little more silence, where he couldn’t think of what else to say. Luckily, his pager saved him, letting him know he was off on his next drive.

“Gotta go. Talk to you later, alright?”

“Sure thing.”

Eddie hung up, threw out the rest of his coffee, and drove off to meet his next ride.

“Any music preferences?” he asked, glancing into the rearview mirror as he navigated.

“The local station’s fine.”

Eddie flicked on the radio, turning the volume up so his passengers could hear.

Cause love's such an old fashioned word And love dares you to care for The people on the edge of the night And love dares you to change our way of Caring about ourselves This is our last dance This is our last dance This is ourselves

That suddenly familiar bassline came in, bringing Eddie back to the night before. Not his mother’s car, or the arcade. Just Richie’s haphazard dance moves, and the coffee table.

Eddie smiled. Maybe eighties music wasn’t so bad.

#reddie #reddielibrary #writing team #prompt fill #quixoticquest

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mamaredd123 · 7 years

Text

Save Myself

A/N: This is not my best work so sorry about that. Also, not beta’d, all errors are my own.

On a side note, I had never heard this song before I signed up for Lexi’s challenge. But I totally loved it. You can listen here if you don’t know it Save Myself by Ed Sheeran

@mysteriouslyme81 Ed Sheeran Challenge

Song Prompt: Save Myself

@impalaimagining 3K Celebration Challenge

Prompts: Cry Me A River by Justin Timberlake and “You risked my ass on a hunch?”

@casbabydontgoineedyou 1K Follower Challenge

Prompt: “You’re the insufferable one.”

@butiaintgonnaloveem Baby’s Big 50 Writing Challenge

Song Prompt: Doing it for my baby by Huey Lewis

@little-red-83 Red’s Love Your Flaws Writing Challenge

Prompts: anxiety, chronic bitch face, quiet, tall and How Do I Live by Trisha Yearwood

PAIRING: Dean x Reader

WARNINGS: angst, character death

WORD COUNT: 2443

I stormed into the bar and plopped my ass on a stool. Angrily, I motioned for the bartender to get me a double shot of bourbon. I glanced around the bar and was relieved to see that it was fairly empty. The music was definitely not the best I thought as I listened to the melody coming from the jukebox in the corner.

‘Don't it make you sad about it? You told me you love me Why did you leave me all alone Now you tell me you need me When you call me on the phone Girl I refuse You must have me confused with some other guy The bridges were burned Now it's your turn, to cry Cry me a river’

That damn Dean! I seriously wish I had never met him. Sometimes I think he does things to deliberately piss me off. Just like tonight.

The hunt wasn’t an easy one but we knew that going in. We all knew what we were supposed to be doing though. Dean, the all mighty, decided at the last minute decided to change it up. So instead of us catching the werewolves off guard, they heard us coming and one got the jump on me as I was going for the back door.

I gently rubbed the bandages under my jeans. The cut had been deeper than I thought originally. It would heal but it was going to hurt like a bitch in the morning. I motioned for another double shot and was nursing it when I heard the door to the bar slam open. Great, four bars in this town and he had to come to the one I was in, I thought to myself.

“What the fuck is wrong with you Y/N?” Dean asked as he sat beside me.

“Me?” I asked unbelievingly. “How about what is wrong with you?”

“I had a hunch so I jumped on it.”

“You have got to be kidding me. You risked my ass on a hunch?”

“Sam had your back.”

“I didn’t need Sam to have my back. If you would have just done like we were all supposed to then it would have all been fine,” I practically screamed at him. “But no, Mister I Know Better decided to change the plan at the last second and now my leg is slashed wide the fuck open.”

I swallowed the last of my drink and slammed the glass down on the bar. Without even taking another look at Dean, I skyrocketed out of the bar and away from him. If he knew what was good for him he would keep his distance from me for a while.

Limping down the street, I pulled my headphones out and plugged them into my phone. I seriously needed to calm down before I got back to the motel. Putting my playlist on shuffle, I headed over to the dock. Good old Huey Lewis began singing in my ears. I hummed along to the lyrics as I walked.

‘Early in the morning, I'm still in bed She comes to me with sweet affection Wakes me with kisses, hello sleepyhead Gets me moving in the right direction I do my best to give her love that lasts forever It seems like everything I do I'm doing better Doing it all for my baby Because she's as fine as she can be I'm doing it all for my baby’

By the time I reached the dock I was calmed down somewhat. I leaned against the railing and stared out across the water replaying tonight’s events. As I stood there thinking about everything, I realized that I probably did over react.

‘How do I get through one night without you If I had to live without you What kinda life would that be Oh I need you in my arms, need you to hold You are my world, my heart, my soul If you ever leave Baby you would take away Everything good in my life And tell me now How do I live without you? I want to know How do I breathe without you?’

Trisha’s words detoured my memories back towards when I first met Dean. The world hadn’t been too kind to me back then and I had made sure to return the favor. Abandoned at birth and raised in an orphanage, I learned early on how to fight. I have always been tall, for a woman five feet eleven inches was too tall unless you were some hundred pound Victoria Secret’s model and the word model would never be used to describe me. This wonderful attribute of myself, combined with my weight, made me forever a target by those around me in the orphanage.

When I was finally released out into the world on my own, I still had to fight and claw for every single thing I needed or wanted. It wasn’t too long out on my own when a friend of mine had me committed for six month to have my anxiety and depression treated when I let it all get to me too much and had a nervous breakdown. To this day, I don’t know which place was worse, the orphanage or the psych hospital.

After that little vacation, I was back out and fighting again. It always seemed like the world was fighting against my actual existence. Nothing was ever easy and nothing ever went as it should have. Clothes designed for girls never fit me right, not with shoulders like a man. Job openings that I was qualified for? Never got them. Trying to find men that weren’t looking UP at me? Not too many of them. Sex? Well, I won’t even go there. I was literally on the verge of giving up completely, ending it all, when I had my first run in with the “supernatural”. That was when I met Dean.

My first run in with all things creepy as hell was a real life werewolf. Evidently Dean and Sam had been tracking it though and they swooped in and saved me. I don’t know what Dean ever saw in me, especially since he has always teased me about my resting bitch face. But he saw something and has kept me around ever since.

Dean has been my rock and I never do anything but give him hell about it. Some girlfriend I turned out to be. Shaking my head, I decide to head back to the motel and apologize. I turn around, still humming along to the tunes in my head, and limp my way back.

----------------------------

“Dean?” I called out as I opened the motel door.

“In here,” he answered.

I walked in the and crossed the room to the bathroom. Leaning against the door frame, I watched as he finished shaving. He was standing there with a towel wrapped around his waist, droplets of water still lingering on his skin.

“Feeling better?” he asked with a touch of sarcasm.

Silently, I nodded.

“Don’t get quiet on me again. You sure had plenty to say earlier.”

“Don’t Dean. I came to say I’m sorry not for you to get me riled up again.”

“God, Y/N. I can never win with you can I?” he asked as he wiped the shaving cream from his face.

My stomach started knotting up as I heard that tone of voice. I hated suffering from anxiety. It always had me wound up way before anything happened. I knew he wasn’t going to make this easy for me I could tell already but I really didn’t want to fight with him anymore. I just wanted to make peace and feel him love me.

“Dean please,” I begged.

“No damn it. I have had enough. You never talk. You always have those fucking migraines from stressing over everything, over nothing really. Then, when you are in enough pain to put an elephant down, you lash out at me like everything is my fault. I have had enough Y/N. I can’t do this anymore.”

“What are you saying to me Dean?”

“I'm done. Just like I said, I can’t do this anymore.”

I stood there looking at him and had absolutely no idea what to say. Deep down I think I knew this day would come but part of me had hoped that destiny had planned this out in a good way for me. I should have known better.

“Why Dean? Why now? Seven years down the road, nothing has changed with me. I am still the girl you found. Anxiety, depression, mood swings, everything is still here. Why are you just now at odds with who I am?”

“Because I thought time with us, time understanding how things were, would help you realize you weren’t alone. I have been here for you, mile after mile, night after night, but nothing I do has helped. I’m sorry.”

“You did help me Dean but you know what, it’s all good and well. If this is how you really feel, I don’t need you at all.”

“Damn it Y/N you are insufferable!”

“No, you’re the insufferable one!” I yelled back at him.

I reached for the keys on the dresser and snatched them up. Storming once again, I raced from the motel room. As I approached my truck I caught a glimpse of Sam peaking out of his room. Guess I slammed the door closed a little too hard.

I tried to jam the key into the door handle but it wouldn’t go. I must have grabbed his keys instead of mine. So be it! He wanted to show his ass then that was fine. I would take his Baby instead of my truck. Marching over to the Impala, I had no problems fitting the key in the lock. Slamming the door behind me, I turned the engine over.

As I backed out of the parking lot, I glanced in the rear view mirror and saw Dean and Sam both standing at their doors. The only thought that went through my mind was good, this will show him.

------------

I don’t know how long it has been since I left the motel. All I remember is driving through town. There had been a red light I think. I tried to shake the fussiness from my brain as I tried to sort out what had happened.

The light had been green as I approached it that much I was sure of. As I grasped at the seat belt holding me in place I recalled the other vehicle. It seemed like it was a truck because the lights set up higher. There wasn’t much else I could remember after that. I guessed that the truck had run the light and hit me.

I leaned against the seat, having no strength at all to try to unbuckled the seat belt. My vision was fading in and out. I could hear people around me but I couldn’t understand what they were saying. I strained to look out the windshield but I couldn’t see much. I saw some feet and a ton of broken glass everywhere. Nothing I was seeing made any sense. Most of what I could see was so blurry except one lady. She was crystal clear as she leaned over and looked at me through the crumpled door frame. I heard her whisper ‘It’s time Y/N. Let’s go.’

Dean! Dean was the only thought I could coherently process. He was going to be so pissed because I wrecked his Baby. Would he remember how much I loved him? Or would the only thing he remembered be that I totaled her?

------------

Two years later……

“Dean you have to snap out of this shit,” Sam said.

“I don't have to do anything but keep fighting.”

“Dude I love you but enough is enough.”

Dean looked at his brother and then walked away. Y/N’s death had hollowed out a space inside him that nothing would ever fill. He had loved her so much. Dean walked over to the juke box and looked over the selections. After settling on one, he deposited his coins in the coin slot. As the lyrics came through the speakers he leaned against the wall and tried to make his soul understand the words.

‘I gave all my oxygen to people that could breathe I gave away my money and now we don't even speak I drove miles and miles but would you do the same for me Oh, honestly?

Offered up my shoulder just for you to cry upon Gave you constant shelter and a bed to keep you warm They gave me the heartache and in return I gave a song It goes on and on

Life can get you down so I just numb the way it feels I drown it with a drink and out of date prescription pills And all the ones that love me, they just left me on the shelf, no farewell So before I save someone else, I've got to save myself

I gave you all my energy and I took away your pain Cause human beings are destined to radiate or drain What line do we stand upon cause from here it looks the same? And only scars remain

But if I don't then I'll go back to where I'm rescuing a stranger Just because they needed saving, just like that Oh I'm here again, between the devil and the danger But I guess it's just my nature My dad was wrong, cause I'm not like my mum Cause she'd just smile and I'm complaining in a song, but it helps So before I save someone else, I've got to save myself

Life can get you down so I just numb the way it feels Or drown it with a drink and out of date prescription pills And all the ones that love me, they just left me on the shelf, no farewell So before I save someone else, I've got to save myself And before I blame someone else, I've got to save myself And before I love someone else, I've got to love myself’

Dean sipped at his beer and thought to himself that maybe that guy had it right. Maybe if he had saved himself first, maybe he would have been able to save Y/N.

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#lynda’s sheeran divide challenge #taylor’s 3k followers challenge #katies 1k writing challenge #happy big 50 baby #love your flaws writing challenge #sam winchester birthday celebration #mamas save myself #dean winchester #dean x reader #spn #spn fanfic #spnfamily

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