mind your speed as you go sheriff's old but he's not slow

Crash




Words: 4679
Dean x Reader (w/ Sam x Reader friendship)
Warnings: mild language
Requested by anonymous
Summary: Y/N borrows the Impala to run an errand but things quickly turn south.

Your name: submit What is this?

You eyed Dean from the doorway to the library. He was slumped over a huge lore book, looking bored and frustrated. This probably wasn’t the best time to ask but…

”Hey,” you said, walking over and taking a seat in the chair next to him, giving him a small smile. “Slow going?” you asked, taking a closer glance at the text in front of him.

”How can you tell? Am I drooling with boredom?” He sat up and stretched his arms out in front of him.

You squinted down at the book. “Ugh… you know this book you’re reading isn’t bound in the usual type of leather.“

He eyed it uneasily. “What the hell does that mean?”

”I don’t think you want to know…” He gave you a disturbed look. “It’s bound in human skin, Dean.”

He wrinkled his nose and gave the book a look of disgust, like he had something distasteful in his mouth. “What the—“ he pushed it away from him with the eraser side of a pencil. “Thanks, Y/N. I totally didn’t need to eat tonight.”

You gave him an amused look. “No problem.” You considered him for a moment, trying to decide what strategy to take. You leaned your head on your elbow. “So, listen…”

That got his attention. You flashed him a smile and he narrowed his eyes at you suspiciously. “What…”

Keep reading

Headstrong - Liam Dunbar

A/N: Hii! This is the first Teen Wolf related thing I have ever written, took a bit of getting used to, but this is the result and I hope you’ll like it! There will defenitely be a part 2, and I’m concidering to make this into a short fanfiction of maybe 10 chapters? Idk yet. I would love some feedback on the story so far, so let me know what you think!

Pairing: Liam x reader

Word count: 1339



You knew changing schools would be difficult. You’d been through the progress numerous times. The first couple of days were always the hardest. You we’re too closed off to randomly start talking to people, and to them, a new face meant new stories. No one seemed to be interested in befriending you, they only cared about the gossip they could spread.

Three days had passed and the only one reaching out to you was your cousin Stiles. Of course, you tried to keep him at distance. You got along perfectly fine, but it was kind of pathetic to have your only friend be your cousin.

Anyways, you were tired and annoyed. Your head was throbbing after a killing math class, and all you wanted to do was get back to the Stilinski house and get comfortable in your room. A sigh escaped your lips as you closed your locker. Your arms filled with the books for your next and final class.

The packed hallways empty out as the bell rings. You turn the corner and before it all registers in your mind, you’re on the ground with your books piled around you. “What the hell.” You snap.

You look up at the culprit. The guy is looking down at his shirt with a scowl. The white fabric now covered with a nasty coffee stain. “You ruined my shirt.”

“You threw me to the ground.” You say in return. “I hit my head.” You add, then slowly start to get up. The coffee cup and the remnants it once contained create a puddle on the ground. To your surprise, there’s no one else around except for you and the guy. He doesn’t seem to care for your injured head, he’s more concerned about his tee shirt.

“You’re getting me a new shirt.” He insist.

As you lean back against the row of lockers, holding your hand to your head, you take a first good look at him. He has dark blonde hair that rests messily on top of his head. It looks windswept, or like he’s run his hand through it a million times. He has a broad jaw with a bit of scruff covering the skin, and thick brows that hover over light blue eyes. He’s only a bit taller than you are, which makes him short for a guy. Still, his body is muscular. He probably plays lacrosse just like every other guy here at Beacon Hills High.

“I am most definitely not.” You chuckle slightly, still holding onto your head. You’re dizzy, but sitting back down would make you look weak, so you push through.

“Hey! Clean that up and get to class, will you?” An old man, who must be the janitor because he’s carrying a tray of cleaning supplies, calls out to you.

You nod at the man before you turn back to face the guy. “Could you get my books for me?”

He raises his brows, “Uh, no.” He says with a shake of the head.

“You knocked them out of my hands.” You say, not quite sure if you heard him correctly. “I can barely keep my legs steady enough to stand.”

“You should have watched where you were going.”

“I could tell you exactly the same thing!” You can’t believe this guy. How rude is he to first knock you to the ground and then refuse to help you.

“I’m not picking up your books.” He states.

“You are.”

“Am not.”

You sigh. “You knocked right into me, you could have the decency to grab my books.”

“You knocked into me! Do you not see this enormous stain on my shirt?”

“Hmm, must have missed that with my blurry vision and all.” You snap.

“Whatever.” The guy scoffs.

“Yeah, whatever.” You mumble.


“Liam? [Y/N]?” You look up at the only familiar voice in this place.

“Oh, hey Stiles.” You smile slightly. You have no idea how much time has passed, but your head is hurting a lot worse. You’re on the floor now, leaning against the lockers. Your jeans are soaked by the coffee that’s still on the floor, but you can’t care about that anymore. The only thing you’re concerned about is the bump that’s starting to form on the back of your head.

For whatever reason, the asshole that caused it all is still sitting beside you, whining about his shirt. He should have left, he obviously has no intentions to help you whatsoever.  

“You guys look awful.” Stiles simply states.

“Gee, thanks.” You roll your eyes at him. “Could you help me up, please?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. What happened?” Stiles asks as he comes closer. He wraps his arm around your back and holds onto your hand to help you up.

“Ask him,” You nod your head toward the guy that’s sitting on the ground. “I probably have a concussion thanks to the asshole.” You mutter.

“Alright, let’s get you to the jeep. I’ll find Scott and we’ll take you to Melissa to get you checked out.” With his arm still around you, Stiles guides you out of the school.

“What about my books?” You ask once you’re seated. You rest your head back against the seat.

“We’ll get them, don’t worry about it.” Stiles reassures you. “Try to stay awake okay? We’ll be at the hospital soon.”

It seems to take forever before Stiles returns with Scott. They climb into the jeep, and Stiles roars up the engine. You jump when the door beside you opens, then closes again. You’re confused but your mind can’t seem to catch up until the door on the other side opens, and the guy from earlier gets into the car.

“What are you doing here?” You still manage to snap at him, even though your head throbs.

“You could also just thank me for getting your books.” He snarls.

You roll your eyes at him. There’s no way you’re thanking him now, his gesture is only a little too late. “Stiles could we just go?” You groan. The pounding in your head is only getting worse, and the frustration towards the guy beside you is only making it worse.

“Just a minute, we’re waiting on Mason.” Stiles explains.

“Who even is that? And what the hell are you still doing here?” You ask, turning to face the guy beside you once again.

“Mason’s my best friend.” He shrugs. “Scott and I are taking him into the woods, show him around, make him familiar with –“

“Alright Liam, maybe you should stop talking for just a sec.” Stiles interrupts. Through the rear view mirror, you can see the twisted expression on his face. Not quite frustrated, but worry and caution are definitely readable.

The back door on the opposite side of you opens, and the guy, Liam is his name apparently, scoots over  to make room. A black guy, you suppose it’s Mason, gets in and closes the door behind him. Before he even has the chance to buckle up, Stiles takes off.

Luckily, Stiles doesn’t bother to stick to the speeding limit. Your uncle, Sheriff Stilinski, would get him out of a speeding ticket, anyways. The ride can’t pass fast enough, because since Mason got into the car, Liam’s leg has been in constant touch with yours. He could easily scoot closer to Mason, if they’re best friends.

“Aren’t you afraid to get another coffee stain on your clothes?” You raise your brows at him.

“You already ruined them.” Liam’s voice is a lot calmer now, but still holds a hint of annoyance. He moves his leg ever so slightly, so your mission is accomplished.

You rest your head back against the cushion and allow yourself to close your eyes despite of Stiles’ warning to stay awake. You can still hear the guys talking, but their voices become further and further away. Until they eventually fade to mere whispers. There’s one phrase that sticks out, coming from Scott, that grabs your attention before everything slips away.

“Her heartbeat is slowing down.”

DreamWalker

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Warnings: mentions of death and violence

Author’s Note: I like this a lot more than I though I would. Hopefully you enjoy it as much too :)

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It’s only 8 o'clock, but you already know that you won’t be getting any sleep tonight. As you lie in your bed and disconnect your mind from your body, your dream figure wanders through the subconscious of the people around you.

The first dream you visit is your neighbor’s. You always visit her dreams, to her knowledge. The two of you have even made a bit of a game of it, going on grand adventures before you visit others. Going from dream to dream is like going from one room to another - something so normal to you that you’ve never really thought twice.

One little girl is having a nightmare about a killer doll from inside her toy chest. You silently curse her parents for their family movie choices as you help her fight the iconic red-haired toy, but other than that, the dreams are all quite happy and enjoyable.

At least, they are until you walk through to a new room. As soon as the door slams closed behind you, you get a sinking feeling in your stomach. It’s pitch black, except for the distant glow of the aura of the dreamer. At first, you’re just walking towards him, bare feet making a light slapping noise on the cold stone ground, but then the screaming starts, making you run.

The boy is around seventeen with teary brown eyes, wild brown hair, and beauty marks littering his exposed skin. He goes to school with you, you realize upon quick inspection. You don’t know him, but you’ve seen him around with his friends.

“Hey! Hey!” You yell out as you pick up your speed, hoping to help him with whatever his subconscious is battling, but just before you can reach out and touch him, you’re thrown back, your body slamming to the floor so hard, that you’re almost knocked back into your body. The action scares you, in all of your year as a dreamwalker, never have you been denied access to the dreamer, which means this has to be all him.

Figuring it’ll be best to take a different approach, you stand slowly and get as close to him as you can and watch what he’s watching. It’s him.

He’s standing above a girl with wavy brown hair - correction, a dead girl with wavy brown hair. “You did this.” He says to him. The dreamer, the boy beside you shakes his head softly, “No, no, the Oni. I didn’t do it.” The other him sneers, laughing humorlessly, “WHAT COULD YOU DO TO SAVE HER!?” The person on the ground changes to a boy, another dead person, and the sneering version creeps closer, his figure twitching and vibrating.

“No, no, no. Move! MOVE!” You pound on the barrier in between the two of you, but he can’t seem to see or hear you. His eyes are flicking from himself to the body on the ground. “I didn’t kill any of them. This isn’t true.” His eyes are betraying his words though, as the leak steadily. “You didn’t kill them? Doing nothing is just as bad as killing them. What are you gonna do when it’s Scott, or Lydia? What about your dad, Stiles?” Continuously, you pound and scream, but your blocked out, so you do the only thing you can think of.

You summon your body to your dreamer’s place of residence.

Your body rises sleepily, eyes glazed over and head rolling, but legs moving as quickly as they can.

“WAKE UP! STILES, WAKE UP!” You yell the name you’re assuming is his as your body gets closer to it’s destination. Waking a dreamer can be dangerous during a nightmare, but now he’s beating himself up, watching as his cruel subconscious figure kills his friends without being able to do anything but cry and deny.

You’re about to wail yourself, but you feel your body in the house and retreat into it, never stopping as your legs push you up the stairs. You don’t know how you know which room he is, but you find it in the first try and slow your pace. Moving to his squirming body in his bed, you place your hands gently on his face, “Stiles. Stiles, I’m gonna need you to wake up.” He doesn’t wake, so with one hand still cradling his cheek, you place the other in his hand as you press your forehead to his. The process of combining your conscious forms only requires a close proximity to ones head, but you can’t help but make as much contact as possible.

The butterflies in your belly start fluttering like crazy, but you ignore it. This is not the time to develop a crush. So, taking a deep breath, you push yourself back into his dream, but this time, your hand is still in his. “Who are you? What are -” Shaking your head, you stand in front of him, blocking his view, “No one, but Stiles, I need you to wake up. Please. This is hurting you. Just, try hard, open your eyes. Please.”

It takes about ten seconds, and you’re almost worried that he won’t be able to do it, that he’ll be stuck, but he wakes, pulling you out of the dream with him. As you’re leaning up from Stiles’s face, you notice Sheriff Stilinski - who must be his father - standing beside the bed. “Friend of yours, son?” Realizing the predicament you’re in, you release Stiles, jumping up from his bed, “Sorry. I just - he didn’t know - we aren’t - He was having a nightmare.” You struggle to find a sane way to express to his father - the sheriff, with a gun - why you busted into his home and he found you in his son’s bed, touching him as if you’re old friends… More than friends.

Much to your surprise, the sheriff nods, “I feel like this is some kind of supernatural stuff I don’t understand, but thank you.” With his father gone, Stiles goes to speak, but you shush him, “Don’t. You need mental rest. Drink some water, maybe call one of your friends. I’ll um, I’ll see you at school tomorrow.” You go to leave, but Stiles grabs your wrist, “At least tell me your name. Just your name.” You smile lightly, spent from the abnormal amount of rush and worry, “Y/N.”

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to @mercuryraindrops, my love and my muse and my all time fav Kansan! Belated Sciles Human AU holiday fluff coming right up. 

WC: ~1.3k
Rating: G
AN: If anyone has read The Raven Cycle series, can you see my TRC ref? Also this is unbetaed and barely proof read i apologize in advance

Depending on where you begin the story, it’s about a skateboard. Specifically, the secondhand Neck Deep skateboard that Stiles has been eyeing in the window of the local pawn shop since summer school. Even more specifically, the summer school that Stiles doesn’t even technically need. But he’s retaking U.S. History anyways so Scott isn’t alone and forced to partner with Greenberg for every project. 

“Dude,” Scott tried to protest at first. “You shouldn’t totally waste your summer just because I failed history.” 

“Scotty, what are best friends for?” Stiles clapped him on the back. “Besides, I’m the one who wanted to try smoking in the first place. So it’s technically half my fault that you’re here. The other half is the devil’s lettuce.” 

Scott buys the skateboard the next day even though it means a solid half hour of haggling and he has no spending money for the next couple weeks. Not to mention it’s a bitch to conceal from Stiles until the holidays. He has to keep finding increasingly creative hiding spots since Stiles is over more often than not. But Scott doesn’t regret his purchase for a single moment. 

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