punching doctor strange in the middle of a conversation just because he's there..

Who Am I?

Summary:  You struggle with your nature and a certain solider wants to help you find yourself. 

 My take on the a/b/o universe.  This is going to be non-cannon, after the first Avengers but with some changes. 

Warnings:  IT WILL GET DARK!  WARNING FOR RAPE/NON-CON.  In this chapter though there’s nothing, just set up. Some swearing. 

Tags: @divadinag, @ariwolff14, @mrssgtjamesbuckybarnes, @marauderice


               The sample came into focus under the microscope. You hitched your breath and added a drop of the solution.  Your heart raced as it appeared to work.  The cells were responding. Tears started to well in the corner of your eyes, but before they could drop the cells mutated again, the serum bubbled away and they remained unchanged.  

Keep reading

Void - part 5

Series summary: Reader has lost her memory and Sam and Dean try to find a way to get her life back.

Summary, part 5: Cas drops by to help.

Characters/pairing: Reader x Dean, Sam, Crowley, Cas

Word count: ~2270

Warnings: angst, language, mentions of pain, fluff, Dean being adorable

Author’s note: We’re at the halfway point already! Darn!

For catching up: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4.

It’s here! A few hours later than I planned/promised, but I got caught up writing, so sorry (not sorry). I hope y’all like it!



Tags at the end - as always, if you want on the list, let me know!



You slept late, woke up feeling rested and very reluctant to leave the bed. Stalling, you reached for one of the books on the nightstand. Your bookmark was near the middle, so you opened it there and read a few lines. To your surprise you remembered the plot right away. Huh. How can I remember a plot to a book I’ve been reading three weeks ago but not the important things like family or friends? This dulled your mood considerably, working as a cruel reminder that things weren’t normal for you. Sighing, you put the book back, got up and headed to the shower.

You dressed comfortably in a light sweater and well-worn jeans, twisted your damp hair into a loose braid and wandered to the hallway. You had only a vague memory from last night about how to get to the library or the kitchen, so you ended up taking a wrong turn and getting lost. When you stood there in the corridor, trying to figure out your next move, you heard a distant bang. The sound repeated a few times and finally you decided to swallow your pride and seek the source of the noise. It was probably either Sam or Dean anyway - they would surely mock your sense of direction, but help nevertheless. You followed the rhythmic sounds and knocked on the door where they seemed to come from. No one answered, but the bangs continued, so you braved the door open and stepped in.

You stopped on your tracks to admire the sight in front of you. Dean was standing in a booth, stance wide, arms straight in front of him and firing his gun repeatedly to a target across the room. The cotton of his shirt was stretched across his shoulders, revealing a toned back. Now there’s a sight for sore eyes. You relished the brief moment when he’d held you yesterday. I wonder what it would take to get a redo of that. That’s when you caught yourself. Oh for chrissake Y/N/N, stop drooling! You scolded your thoughts for a few more moments, never removing your eyes from Dean.

Keep reading

dizzy-redhead  asked:

So, um, prompts...Any chance you could write Ransom and Holster being oblivious idiots? I'll leave that open to your interpretation; I just love them and I've read like everything on AO3 for them and it's not enough!

I am not particularly happy with the ending, but alas. And thanks for stopping by (and reading all my things)


They meet in the card aisle.

Justin is debating between two, and is fairly certain he’s found the right one. It’s brightly coloured, has one of the Disney princesses on it, and congratulates a beloved granddaughter on turning five. He’s getting ready to make his way to the checkout when the startlingly large blond man who’s been browsing cards next to him taps him on the shoulder.

“Hey, which of these is worse?” the man asks, holding up two love cards. One is a scrabble board with the tiles spelling out “love” and the inside has just the letter “u.” The other is a picture of two people on a bench, probably in Central Park or something, and says “The most beautiful place I’ve ever been…is in your arms.”

“Those are both nauseating as hell bro,” Justin says, hoping to god that the man isn’t actually planning to woo someone with them.

“Right?” the man says. “It’s an inside joke though.”

Justin nods. “The bench one is worse.”

“Thanks,” the man says, putting the other back and then glancing at the card Justin is holding. “I mean, forgive me if I’m wrong, but you don’t look old enough to have a five year old granddaughter.”

“Nah, it’s for my little sister,” Justin says.

“Oh, sure,” the man agrees, nodding. “Because then you’re calling her five, which is annoying, but you’re also calling yourself a grandpa so she can’t really get mad at you.”

“Exactly!” Justin says, lighting up. “Dude, my mom always gets so annoyed, but Aisha and I think it’s funny as hell.”

“Right though?” the man says. “My friend sends me sympathy cards on my birthday, and I send her romance cards. The rest of our crew just thinks we’re crazy.”

Keep reading

You Fill Me With Dread

Request: OMG HI SO THIS IS LIKE A MOUTHFUL BUT… can you do an imagine where Liam and the reader don’t get along and they’re constantly fighting, but the reader, who’s a human, is taken by the dread doctors and is a failure but Liam saves her..just fluff pls

Note: I’m always trash for Liam and the reader hating each other at first hahaha! Pretty sure at least half of my Liam imagines start out that way. I changed the request a little bit: instead of having her actually be taken and experimented on, Liam stops the Doctors from taking her in the first place. I hope this is okay! Forgive me for any inaccuracies with this imagine; I’m not fully caught up with season 5 oops. This hasn’t been completely proof-read because today was the first day of school and I wanted to quickly post this before I start on homework. So yeah. Also, send in requests!

p.s. the title makes me giggle hehehe I’m so lame


“You would never believe who I had in my last class.”

         Smirking at my best friend, I move my things out of the seat beside me so she can sit down. “Spill.”

         Hayden shakes her head angrily, shoving her chair out. “Liam Dunbar.”

         My mouth drops. “No way.” I’m no stranger to the history between Hayden and Dunbar – it stretches back to middle school and is rather bloody. They absolutely hate each other. As Hayden’s best friend, I’m obliged to hate him too. It’s not that hard. Liam is arrogant, annoying, and all around a total douche.

But he’s a tad cute. A tad.

“Ugh, I know. Just what I needed on the first day of school.” She wrinkles her nose as she fishes through her pencil bag.

I cross my arms on the table and let my ponytail fall over my shoulder. “You’re not going to break his nose again, are you?” I ask – partly teasing and partly not. Hayden’s a bit of a fighter. I tend to be, too. I guess that’s one of the reasons why we’re such good friends.

“I don’t know yet. I want to, but…”

“Your sister would have a cow.” I finish for her. Hayden’s older sister, Deputy Clark, works at Beacon Hills Sheriff department. “Should I punch him for you, then?”

Hayden snorts. “As long as I can watch.”

I unfortunately don’t have the next class with Hayden. We go our separate ways with promises to meet up at lunch.

         When I enter the classroom, I spot Dunbar’s best friend, Mason. He gives me a friendly smile as I walk over. Even though our best friends are arch enemies, we’ve maintained a decent relationship. Mason is just too nice to not like.

         “Hey Y/N,” he greets as I take the seat across from him. “How’s your first day going?”

         “Pretty well. How about you?”

         He grins. “It’s been interesting…”  

         I playfully narrow my eyes at him. “What’s going through your twisted little head, Mason?”

         “Nothing,” he claims innocently. “I just think today’s about to get even more interesting.”

         I press my lips together. “Why do you say that?”

         A shadow falls over me, and a tight voice clips, “You’re in my seat.” When I turn to see who the hell thinks they can talk to me like that, my eyes fall on Liam Dunbar. Ah. Of course. Always thinks he’s entitled to everything. I’m not even surprised.

         “No I’m not,” I say evenly.

         “Yeah, you kind of are. I want to sit next to Mason.”

         “There’s an empty chair behind him. Take that one.”

         “I want this one. Move.”

         I laugh. “Really? ‘Move’? That’s it? No ‘please’ or anything?”

         Dunbar rolls his eyes and impatiently shifts his weight from foot to foot. “You’re just doing this to piss me off. You know that Mason is my best friend and that I want to sit by him.” His glares at me. “I bet Hayden put you up to this, didn’t she?”

         I cross my arms and lean back in the chair. “No, she didn’t, actually. She’s not as petty as you are.” I wet my lips. I don’t miss how his eyes are drawn to the small movement. “Besides, Mason is my friend too, and maybe I actually want to sit by him. Not everything is about you, Dunbar.”

         “I’m not petty.” He grumbles.

         The bell rings. Mason sighs. “C’mon, man, just sit behind me. It’s not that big of a deal. We’re probably going to get assigned seats anyway.”

         “Fine,” he growls. Just as Dunbar starts to move around my desk, another student sits behind Mason. They didn’t do it to be mean; they’re in rapid conversation with their friend, who has taken the seat behind me.

         Dunbar’s jaw drops slightly, and I giggle. He sends me a look. “I hate you so much,” he says before moving to the only other available seat – on the other side of the classroom.

         Mason is trying hard not to crack up. “That was brutal.”

         I just shrug. “If he hadn’t wasted so much time arguing with me, he would’ve gotten the spot he wanted.”

         “I can hear you,” Dunbar snarls.

         “Mr. Dunbar!” The teacher snaps as she closes the door behind her. The class falls silent. “We do not shout across the classroom. Surely you know better.”

         Dunbar just mutters an apology, shooting daggers at me. I just smile and send him a little wave.

Later in the week I go to the school’s library to check out a book. I had read the synopsis online, and it sounded pretty good – not good enough to purchase, but enough to pique my interest.

         As soon as I walk in, I see a head of blond hair jerk up in my direction. Liam Dunbar is sitting at a table with his senior friends, all in deep discussion about something seemingly serious, but he’s staring right at me like he doesn’t even hear them saying anything at all. His cheeks turn pink and his ears go bright red. His eyes don’t leave me. From here they look almost golden, which is strange since usually his eyes are blue.

         His tall scrawny friend, Stiles, looks over his shoulder to see what’s captured Dunbar’s attention. When Stiles sees me, he presses his lips in a line and gives me a small nod. His father works at the sheriff station with Hayden’s sister; I met him once when Hayden and I stopped by to drop lunch off for Deputy Clark.

         I wave at Stiles and roll my eyes at Dunbar before stepping into the rows of the fiction section. I dig in my bag for my phone; I don’t remember the author’s last name and I really don’t feel like walking up and down, searching for the title alone.

         Once I locate the book, I head for the check-out.

         Dunbar’s friends have left him by now; he sits at the table alone, bent over homework. Yeah, not even done with the first week of school and the teachers have already given us assignments. Pretty rough.

         Still, that doesn’t stop me from ‘tripping’ over the leg of his chair, causing his pen to scratch across the paper in a long line. He growls lowly as I straighten myself.

         “Oopsie.” I grin. “Didn’t mean to do that. So sorry.”

         “You did that on purpose!” He snaps, the pen in his hand busting from how tightly he’s holding it. Blue ink drips down his arm and oozes across the paper. He looks down at it in surprise.

         “Tsk, tsk.” I say tauntingly. “You should be more careful. It’s going to be hard for the teacher to read your work now.”

         Dunbar grits his teeth. “Just leave me alone. You got your book. Now get out of here. Go run and be evil with Hayden.”

         “Since you asked so nicely…” I give his face a sharp tap before flouncing away.

It’s easy to fall into the routine of school. Every morning I take the ten minute walk to Hayden’s house. Her sister gives us both a ride to school before heading to work. After school, depending on the weather, I either stay in the library to do homework or sit on the bleachers to watch Hayden’s soccer practice. When that’s over, we sit at the front of the school and wait for her sister to come get us.

         Today is beautiful: the sun is shining; a gentle breeze advertises the cooler temperatures. Fall is coming fast.

         I sit up in the bleachers on the visitor’s side with a textbook open in front of me. It’s hard to keep the pages from flipping due to the wind. I have several erasers and pens set all around the perimeter of the book.

         Despite my efforts at studying, I still can’t help but glance up at the field. Hayden is killing it. She’s just incredible. Sometimes I feel a slight pinch of jealousy when I watch her practice like this, so effortlessly, but I try to shove those feelings aside. This is my best friend. I’m proud of her hard work and dedication.

         Soccer practice ends when the coach blows the whistle sharply. Hayden and the other girls jog to the locker room, giving me the cue to pack up my bag. I take the steps two at a time, puffing slightly when I get to the bottom. I shift my backpack’s strap farther up my shoulder and walk along the outside of the field.

         Finstock, the coach of the lacrosse team, jogs out of his office. “Come on, guys! I’m not getting any younger here!”  

         Here they come: Beacon Hills’ lacrosse team, dressed in their athletic wear, ready to practice for the big game next week. I fight the urge to snicker when I see Dunbar in his neon shirt and gray shorts. I could swear that he heard me somehow, despite being half-way across the field and the wind blowing wildly. He turns to me and sends me an icy glare. I give him one in return, not in the mood to feign goofiness. The bleachers aren’t exactly comfortable; my back is killing me and it has made me a little cranky.

         I stop under the home stands in my normal waiting spot for Hayden. I push my bag to the ground and pull out my phone. As I’m scrolling through Pinterest, someone yells, “Look out!” I assume that some idiot did something stupid on the field; they can’t be talking to me. Still, I glance up out of curiosity to see what’s going on.

         BAM!

         I’m knocked to the ground by the sudden force. Blinding pain is racing through my skull. I groan, clutching the tender spot on my forehead.

         “Y/L/N, holy-” Coach Finstock yells. “You okay?”

         “I’m fine!” I call back, keeping my eyes closed. I don’t move to get up off the ground, but I raise my hand and give a thumbs up to the direction of his voice. “Just great.”

         “Jesus, Dunbar, were you trying to kill her?”

         My eyes flash open, slightly blurry with tears. Dunbar did this. I stagger to my feet, head spinning slightly, and march out from under the shade of the bleachers. “What the hell, you asshole?” I shriek, stomping my way to where Dunbar stands. He’s holding a lacrosse stick and a blank expression. “What was that?”

         Stiles jogs over. “Hey, hey, hey, Y/N, take it easy.”

         I march around him, stalking to get right in Dunbar’s face. “You did that on purpose!”

         “I did not!” He scoffs, gripping his stick tightly.

         “Yes you did!” I shove his chest, causing a few of the lacrosse team members to let out murmurs.

Dunbar rolls his eyes. “It was an accident. You’re so dramatic.”

“You’re supposed to be some sort of lacrosse-god, aren’t you? So awesome, right? Then you shouldn’t ‘accidentally’ hit someone on the sidelines with a ball!” I shove him again.

His eyes flash gold again, like I had seen them do in the library. What the hell…?

Stiles is behind me, tugging me back. “Y/N, let’s-” I turn and push him away as hard as I can.

“Stay out of this, Stiles!”

“Hey!” Coach Finstock barks, whistle clenched between his teeth. “No fighting. You know how much paperwork fights are?”

It’s like I can barely hear him. Blood roars in my ears. I’m seeing red. All I can think about is how much I hate Dunbar: for what he did to Hayden, for the way he treats Hayden, and for the way he treats me. I’m sick of it. He’s such a jackass.

I don’t think; I just react. My fist pulls back and then snaps against his face, getting him right on the chin and jerking his head back. The rest of the team erupts. I’m winding up for another, planning to plant one on his nose, when I’m suddenly being lifted up.

It’s Scott, the captain of the team. He’s also friends with Stiles and Dunbar. Of course he’d come to the rescue.

I’m set down on the other side of the Great-Wall-of-Stiles, whose arms are out and ready to catch me if I try to break through and run at Dunbar.

“Go home, all right?” Stiles says, looking me right in the eyes. “Listen to me, Y/N-”

“Stiles-” I snarl, prepared to rip his eyes out to get at Dunbar. I can see over his shoulder that Dunbar is literally fighting against Scott’s hold on him to get to me. Coach Finstock is blowing the whistle, arm between the two groups as he looks back and forth.

“That’s enough!” He yells. “Y/L/N, you’re getting written up – and you will too, Dunbar, if you don’t cool it!”

My detention falls on a Friday. Deputy Clark is working over-time and isn’t able to come pick Hayden up, so she sits with me in Coach Finstock’s room. Hayden’s allowed to do her homework. I’m not. Hayden’s allowed to sit next to me, but we can’t talk.

         Coach Finstock sits behind his desk and just glares at me. “This was not how I wanted to spend my Friday afternoon,” he tells me. “I wanted to go get drunk.”

         “You ever consider AA, Coach?”

         “Shut up! This is detention. You’re not supposed to talk.”

         “Sorry. You were talking to me so I thought I was supposed to answer.” Hayden covers her mouth to hide her giggle. I just bite my lip, trying hard not to smirk. “But if it’s any consolation, this isn’t how I wanted to spend my Friday afternoon either. And by the way, you can always get drunk later on tonight.”

         “Y/L/N-”

         I hold up my hands in surrender. “Say no more.” I make a show out of locking my lips and throwing away the key.

         He stares at me for several long, uncomfortable seconds before sighing and running a hand down his face. “Get out of here,” he says, staring down at his desk.

         I blink. “Serious?”

         “Yes. Go.”

         Hayden and I give each other a high five. I help her collect her papers and put all her things away. We heave our bags over our shoulders and call a goodbye to Coach as we walk out.

         “That was awesome,” Hayden laughs.

         “Pretty much.” I bump her hip with mine. “What are you doing tonight?”

         She bumps me back. “My sister wants us to spend some time together. Why?”

         “Damn.” I let my shoulders slump. “I was thinking of going to the gym tonight. I was hoping you’d be my exercise buddy.”

         “Awww.” She pouts. “I love being your exercise buddy.”

         “I know you do. That’s why I offered.”

         She laughs and pushes her hair over her shoulder. “Maybe some other time.”

         We exit the school and sit under the cover, plopping down against the far wall. We stretch out our legs and set our bags on either side of us. “Valerie should be here soon,” Hayden says as she locks her phone.

         I sigh and rest my head on her shoulder. “I really hate Liam Dunbar.”

         “Girl, me too.”

The gym Hayden and I usually go to is mostly empty when I walk inside. There’s a light rain falling, so I assume that’s why there aren’t as many people out today. I watch the headlights of my ride’s car disappear into the storm, shouldering my gym bag up a little higher.

         It’s nippy in the lobby, so I head for the locker room. I’m wearing a sports bra underneath a long-sleeve dry-fit shirt. My athletic shorts and Nikes complete the look.

         I gather my hair into a high ponytail after stashing my bag, carrying my water and iPod with me as I head for the racks of weights.

         As I heft ten pounds on either side of the bar, I check out my company. There’s a man with earbuds in on a treadmill, and a boy with blond hair by the bench press.

         Wait a minute…

         I nearly drop the weight as he sits up, wiping his face with a small white towel. He’s slick with sweat, hair hanging in his eyes. To make matters worse, he’s shirtless. His muscles are swollen and vascular.       Even from here I can see the tiny bead of sweat trickling down his cheek, dangerously close to his lips, and the strange urge to lick it away hits me like a train.

         What the hell? Why does he have to be so attractive?

         Whatever. He’s an asshole. And he gave me a nice goose-egg. So what if he’s super-hot and dripping wet and buff?

         I turn my back on him, going back to my set and putting in my headphones. I came here to work out and blow off some steam, not to ogle guys.

         I duck my head and inch forward until the bar’s cool metal is biting into the nape of my neck. I inhale deeply, straighten with the bar carefully balanced, and then take two small steps backward.

         I drop into a deep squat. The burn runs all through my thighs. I take another deep breath as I hold the position before going back up. I try to keep time with my music. Every five squats I pause and hold the crouch, relishing in the scream of my quivering muscles.

         After I’ve done this five times, my legs feel like jelly. I’m almost not able to make it over to the bar to set it down. See, this is why I wanted Hayden to come with me. She’d be able to spot me and help me ease the bar down. Plus, she’d keep my head clear of Dunbar…

         When I turn around, guzzling water, I see that Dunbar’s finally noticed that I’m here. And he’s staring. Pretty intently, I might add. My chest feels tight. Was he… did he watch me squat?

         “You need a spotter?” He calls. The man who was here earlier is gone. It’s just the two of us.

         “No,” I scoff. “Do you?”

         He licks over his lips. “I wouldn’t mind it.”

         “Oh,” I say, surprised. “Okay. What do you need to be spotted on?”

         “Seriously? You’d do it?”

         I roll my eyes. “I have to make sure you don’t kill yourself. I’d be the prime suspect if you died in here, you know, since no one else is around. People wouldn’t be surprised that I finally lost it and did away with you.”      

         Now it’s his turn to roll his eyes. “Whatever. I just need to squat and then I’m done. Keep up the attitude and I won’t hang back and spot for you.” He slips his shirt over his head and I bite my lip hard to keep from verbally protesting.

         “I don’t need you to spot for me.”

         “Uh-huh. Sure.” He gets up off the bench and saunters over to me. I make sure to keep my eyes trained on his face – no matter how tempting it is to look at his body, I can’t let him have the satisfaction of knowing I find him attractive.

         He snickers. “Sixty-five pounds? That’s it?”

         “Shut up.” I wrap my headphones around my iPod and gingerly set it on the floor beside my water bottle. “Because you’re so strong and can lift so much more.”

         “Actually, I can.” He proceeds to load both ends of the bar. I place a hand under my chin to keep my jaw from hanging open.

         He ducks underneath the bar in a similar fashion to the way I did earlier. “Are you just going to stand there?”

         I bite back a retort, rolling my eyes and stepping forward. I place my hands on the outside of his; I can feel the heat radiating off his body in waves. I shiver slightly, licking over my lips as I tighten my grip and move closer. “Ready?” I whisper.

         Dunbar nods. He takes the bulk of the weight; I’m mainly there for balance. We back up slowly. When I’m certain that he’s got it under control, I take my hands off and step to the side.

         He does several red-faced sets that leave me feeling hot and turning to examine the rest of the roof. Boring white walls. Floors covered in black mats. Shiny equipment everywhere, catching the light.

         The piercing drop of the bar into its cradle causes me to jump. Dunbar straightens, relaxed now that he’s not under the crushing weight. “You know, the purpose of having a spotter is someone keeping an eye on you while you lift.”

         “Yes, I know.”

         “I wasn’t sure. You seemed really interested in those water fountains. Thirsty?”

         “No. Pretty sure you are, though.” I smirk at the double-meaning in my statement.

         Dunbar rolls his eyes. “Do you need me to spot you for bench-press?”

         Visions of him standing above me while I lay flat cloud my brain. Before I can stop myself, I shake my head sharply. “I definitely don’t need you.” The bite to my words is unintentional but still there. I don’t mean to sound cruel. I just don’t want to put myself into a situation where Dunbar could discover the silly little feelings I have for him.

         When I see the look on his face, I second-guess my choice. Maybe it would’ve been better to have the truth slip out. Anything to keep me from having to see that look in his eyes again.

         “Fine,” he grumbles, brushing past me. “I had better things to do anyway.”

         I open my mouth to say something. I don’t know what. Apologize? Ask him to wait? Tell him to take his shirt off again?

         Before I can say any of that, he’s disappeared into the men’s locker rooms. I sigh and plop down on the edge of the bench-press. Great going, Y/L/N.

         It doesn’t matter anyway. Dunbar is Hayden’s worst enemy; there’s no way I could date him in good conscience…

         I lay back on the bench-press and scoot my way under the bar. I consider adding weight to the ends but decide that the regular forty-five pounds are enough for now.

         My arms ache slightly as I push the bar out of its cradle, allowing myself to lower it to my chest before thrusting up again. I stare intently at the ceiling tiles, puffing.

         It’s the weird ticking noise that makes me slow to a stop. I rack the bar and sit up.

         “Y/N…”

         My brow furrows. Who the hell…?

         “Y/N…”

         I stand up and swipe my water bottle and iPod off the floor.

         “Y/N…” My name seems to be coming from everywhere. The ticking grows louder, almost drowning out the offending groans. Three sets of footsteps, heavy, echo off the walls. I whirl around, trying to find the source.

         That’s when I see them – three large shadows falling across the floor at the front entrance. They’re walking in sync, slow and deliberate. My name comes again and I’m positive it’s from them.

         I grab a simple twenty-pound bar and hold it like a fighting staff, praying that my younger years spent watching the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles would pay off and somehow bless me with Donatello’s kick-ass staff-wielding ability. Whatever these things are, it’s clear they’re coming after me. And I’m not going down without a fight.

         The middle one – the leader, whatever – reaches me first. I don’t hesitate. I swing the bar as hard as I can, connecting with its head with a loud crunching sound. It stumbles back and hits the ground.

         I swing the bar in a wide arch, narrowly missing the second one. The third one isn’t so lucky; it gets hit around the mid-section and crumples to its knees.

         The second one knows better now. It’s right in front of me; I’m preparing to get one good hit in so I can make a run for it. But just as I bring the bar down, the figure wavers and disappears. Something cold and hard wraps around me from behind. I let out a loud scream, the bar falling from my fingers and crashing to the floor.

         A loud growl causes me to cease my thrashing. It’s Dunbar, only… not? He’s standing in the doorway of the men’s locker room. His eyes are glowing; hair is sprouting everywhere on him; he’s got these teeth and claws…

         He’s across the room in less than two seconds, slicing at the second thing that’s currently holding me in its grip. It releases immediately; I drop to the ground and roll twice before lurching to my feet and gripping the bar tightly.

         Dunbar stands beside me, panting heavily in my ear. My three attackers are on their feet once again. A warm hand envelopes mine. I don’t have time to get a real good look at the walking nightmares before I’m being tugged out of the room, bar dragging along the floor behind me.

         “Just drop it!” He snarls. I do so instantly.

         We skid across the slick floors of the lobby and then burst into the downpour. “We gotta get to Scott!” He yells.

         “What?” I can barely hear him over the drum of fierce rain on the tin covering above us.

         Dunbar tugs me closer; my body is pressed up against him and his lips are on my ear. “Just follow me.”

         We run down the sidewalk, crossing the street and into the dark. I clench his hand tightly. Part of me wants to let go for a couple of reasons: I have no idea what’s going on and want answers; I could run faster if he wasn’t pulling me so fast that I have to try not to stumble over my own feet; we’re supposed to hate each other. But something about the heat of his rough palm pressing against mine is comforting after what just happened. Plus, it’s hard to see through the rain and night.

         About ten minutes into the hard sprint, I dig my feet into the ground. He feels my resistance and stops, head on a swivel. “C-Can we…” I pant, doubled over with my hands on my knees. “Can we t-take… a breather?”

         He hardly seems winded. “Sure,” he says.

         My hair is sticking to me in thick strands. My clothes are soaked through. I drop to the cement, sucking in ragged breaths as the rain pelts into my numb skin. “W-Wh…”

         “I can’t believe you took out two Dread Doctors with a barbell.”

         “All in a day’s work, pal.” I pat the top of his shoe. “Wait… Dread what?”

         “Dread Doctors.” He glances around, as if to make sure those things are back.

         I snort. “Didn’t seem like doctors.”

         He shifts from foot to foot. “They’re a different kind of doctor than the one you’re used to knowing.”

         I lay back on the pavement, flinching slightly when the back of my head hits a small puddle. “Would never have guessed that.”

         “Just get up.” Dunbar says, reaching to grab my wrists and tug me to my feet. “They could be back any minute. We need to get to the pack.”

         “Pack?” I ask, head spinning slightly because of how quickly I got up. “What are you talking about?” My hands clench the wet fabric clinging to his shoulders.

         Dunbar’s hands settle on my waist, keeping my swaying form steady. “Yes, pack. Me, Scott, Stiles, Lydia – you’re not going to pass out, are you?”

         “Psh,” I push off of him to wearily stand on my own. “No way.”

         He rolls his eyes. “Y/N, don’t try to be tough. If you’re going to pass out, you need to tell me. I know that was a lot for a human – especially one who was taken by surprise like that.”

         “Human?” I say weakly. My voice cracks slightly.

         His lips press into a thin line. “Yeah. Human.”

         “But aren’t you…”

         “No, I’m not.”

         We stand in the pouring rain, just staring at each other. Nothing makes sense. Dunbar’s saying that he’s not human? Something about a pack? And Dread Doctors? What the hell are those? And why did they try to take me?

         “They’re not coming back, right?” I ask softly. “Those things that tried to take me.”

         “I don’t know,” he tells me honestly. “But what I do know is that we really need to get to Scott. He’ll know what to do… I hope.”

         I throw out my arms. “What is there to do? I just got attacked by some freak-shows with masks! They were trying to kidnap me! Why aren’t we going to the police? Why would we go to Scott, or your pack, or whatever?”

         Dunbar sighs. “I know. It’s a lot, and none of it makes sense. But I need you to trust me.”

         I cross my arms. “Trust you?”

         “Yeah.” He steps closer to me. I can feel the warmth coming off him; it’s a nice distraction from the icy rain. “Look, I saved you, right? So-”

         “I think I was doing pretty well on my own.” I say stiffly. “I didn’t need you to ‘save’ me.”

         To my surprise, a small smile takes up residence on his face. “I know you were,” he tells me. “I just stepped in when you needed help – and you can’t deny that you needed it.”

         I just stare at my feet.

         Dunbar takes my hand again. “And since I did that, even after you were a total asshole-” I roll my eyes and the smile widens. “You know that I have your back, right?”

         “I guess so.”

         “And if those things come back, I won’t let them get to you.”

         “I don’t want to rely on you to protect me.”

         “Then let’s get to the pack. As soon as possible. Like, now.”

Heart - Part 1

Word Count: 2815

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Language

A/N: Sorry this took forever. It’s also not that great. 

Series Rewrite Masterlist


“Hello Y/N.” You looked into the yellow eyes staring back at you.

 

“Great. Just who I wanted to see. So I guess there’s just one thing to ask.” Rolling your eyes and leaning against the wall with a sigh you asked, “Am I dreaming or dead?”

 

“You’re dreaming, princess.” He smirked.

 

“Don’t call me that.”

Keep reading

[snk fic] no way in hell

Rating: PG
Pairing: erejean 
Summary: The Mummy/Indiana Jones-ish AU. It happened.
Notes: Me and Lauren once went on a lengthy twitter brainstorming jam and the idea of it just stuck for AGES with me.  Most of it is inspired by our conversation here.  Thank you, Lauren!!!  I hope you don’t mind me borrowing some choice archaeological mumbo jumbo YOU ARE THE EXPERT HERE.  I’ve tried. This is all yours.

(also on AO3)

Keep reading