i swear to god my brain is leaking out my ear

anonymous asked:

Someone said something about dex being an athlete tutor and tutoring nursey in like math or something and maybe not completely needing the help with his class but just being completely in love with dex and I was wondering if you could write it pls.

Nursey’s in pretty deep here. He realizes this as he wakes up at 9 A.M. to go take notes in a class that he’s technically not enrolled in.

“Dude,” Chowder laughs as they walk into the lecture hall, “Just ask him out.”

Chowder knows what’s going on because Chowder’s the reason Nursey is in this situation in the first place. Chowder had begged Nursey to show him where the Student Tutoring Center was because he was struggling in Calc 3, and Nursey, like a good roommate, had agreed to take him. Which led to them meeting Dex, and Nursey’s brain promptly leaking out of his ears and onto the floor because pretty. So, with his brain in a puddle on the ground, Nursey had mistakenly answered “Yeah” when Dex asked if he was in Calc 3, too. That’s where it all started.

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Falling (Avengers)

this is a fic that is about the avengers as a group and it was going to be a three part but at this second i’m only confident on one part so expect nothing. thanks.

You grimaced, staring at the white of your thigh. It’s likely very bad that you can’t feel this, can’t feel the searing heat that should be there or the little leaks of blood that’re escaping. Only a couple leaks, luckily. That’s the point of burning the flesh, so the blood doesn’t leak out. Not that you’d been bleeding before you’d been hit with a flamethrower to the thigh at point blank range.

Not the point. What’s also not the point is that you definitely shouldn’t have tried to take on a flamethrower guy on your lonesome, as Steve has so succinctly pointed out over comms at least a dozen times already, but it’s always best to set the scene.

Maybe that’s a bad thing, thinking you’re setting a scene. It’s just your head, and there’s no one else around, nor are you even speaking aloud. And this isn’t a show or movie or book or anything like that. Do burns effect the way a person thinks? Is it like when you go mad with pain? Strange considering you can’t feel any pain. Or not much. There are little shallower burns around the edges but that’s not the point.

And I swear, every time we let you try and fight without a buddy something goes wrong! How- Dammit- How are we supposed to trust you on a mission if you can’t keep yourself from getting wounded to the point of needing time off?” Steve roars in your ear, the twang and screams elicited by his shield as it flies from point to point wherever he is the background to your undressing.

The twang and screams elicited by his shield as it flies from point to point wherever he is the background to your undressing? Now all you can think of is doing a sexy strip tease to a backing track of Steve in battle. A hip bump with every grunt, arms flying high and sliding down your body to the sound of a dying mans scream.

Lay off the kid, you know she’s still learning.” Tony pipes up, his voice sympathetic but you’re barely focused on the conversation right now. An ant is crawling up your hand.

Bullets tear up the earth a few feet from you and you frown at the sight. Why does man have to destroy the earth? What has the earth ever done but feed and clothe us?

Tsunamis, tornados, earth quakes and volcanoes.

“Ha! That’s right.” You giggle, cringing at the high pitched noise of your laugh. Like a keen or a squeak. Hysterical sounding, almost.

What the hell kid? I’m trying to stick up for you.” Tony snaps and you shake your head, trying to refocus on the conversation through the comms.

“Sorry? What?” You mumble, raising a dirty finger and lowering it slow motion toward your burn. Maybe if you prod it, you’ll feel something. A crumb of dirt drops from your palm, landing on the cloth left covering your thigh and someone shouts across the field.

She knows she’s being an idiot, she admitted it.” Steve growls and you blink at the empty field.

Steve, shut up.” Tony snaps, worry in his voice. “Kid, what’re you thinking about right now?”

Steve’s voice starts up again, only to be shushed by Tony once more and radio silence fills your ear.

You rack your brain, what do they want you to say? Are you supposed to provide humour for the group? Is this a sombre moment? You were barely listening.

“It’s strange how geese have teeth. I’m not sure if ducks have teeth but it’s worth looking into, don’t you guys agree? Oh, and there’s an ant and he was on my shin before but he’s on my knee and I think he wants to eat my delicious crispy flesh.”

Please tell me you haven’t eaten any of your burned skin?” Clint begs, the sound of someone gagging coming through the comms.

“No, I haven’t. Should I? Is that… Is that how I’ll be able to feel again cause right now it’s like my leg is… It’s like my leg is dizzy.” You wonder, hearing a soft curse run through the line in your ear.

I’ll see you in one minute, Y/N, and we’re gonna get you on the jet. Where are you?” Tony asks softly, his voice soothing and you yawn at the cadence. Nice.

“Same spot. Never left, I sort of felt vomity so I sat down and then everyone sort of ran off. Probably didn’t want me to be sick on them.” You laugh, only for the sound to die and your eyes to go wide. “Help, guys. Help.”

What? What?”

“The ant is nearly at the wound; it won’t heal good if there’s an ant bite on it. Hurry!”

Oh my god.” Natasha groans and you can’t help softly and bitterly mimicking the sound. A thud sounds as a red and gold robot appears before you.

“Hello, are you real?” You frown, beaming as the bot nods its head. “You’re an AI, you’re so cool!”

“Please be still, Miss.” The automated voice rumbles, kneeling and scooping you into its hard arms. “My scans show you have received third degree burns to two thirds of your left thigh. I have been instructed to take you to the jet, do you object?”

“Nope.” You smile, patting the robots glowing heart happily and trying not to squeak as you’re jostled into the sky.

“You do realize that this could be grounds for you to be taken off the team.” Pietro sighs, and you pout at him. What’s the point of having a beautiful boy on your bed if he’s gonna talk?

“Of all the things I could live without, fighting for my life on a weekly basis- if I’m having a good run, is high on the list.” You shrug, running your fingers through his hair and gazing at him. How is he so pretty? It has to be the hair with his dark eyebrows. Art.

“You’d leave the team?”

“No!” You laugh, the offense and outright amazement in his voice comical. “I’d never leave the team while they’d have me. But I hate running all the time, I hate being so bad at this, I just hate being constantly sick.”

“You love bed rest!” Pietro counters and you laugh, flopping back against the pillow and trying not to visibly wince.

“I love bed rest because I am loved. What I don’t love about bed rest is being in pain. Even lying here with you, mostly still and doing nothing but talking, is utterly exhausting and it feels like someones running lines along my thigh with a dull razor.” You mumble, your eyes drifting around your bed before you push against the mattress, sliding yourself further down the bed and setting your head on your pillow. Pietros eyes meet yours levelly on the other pillow and you avoid his gaze.

“Y/N.” He mumbles softly and you shrug, holding out your hand and interlacing your fingers.


hello, it's me (Haikyuu, Iwaizumi/Oikawa, R:G)

More Iwaoi established husbands!AU, a little earlier in the relationship. I like how my brain tries to avoid writing a particular fic…by providing me with inspiration for other fics, OTL. 

Another quick piece, again un-betaed, so let me know if there are any errors. I’m still kinda new to tumblr, but I’m assuming comments aren’t a thing here?…Either way, enjoy the read (I hope)!

The phone in Iwaizumi’s hand had barely vibrated before he thumbed the green ‘answer’ circle and lifted it to his ear. “Yo.”

“Hajime.” Oikawa’s voice was high and slightly shrill, even through the staticky reception. “Hajime, the flight’s been delayed another fucking two hours-

“I know.” The arrivals board had been updated and the airport announcement made just a few minutes before Oikawa’s call. It was the third delay announced for that particular flight that day, and while Iwaizumi was as irritated as Oikawa likely was, swearing up a storm in a public place wasn’t going to help either of them. “Something about the weather, wasn’t it? It sucks, but it can’t be helped.”

“Can’t be helped, my ass; there’s nothing wrong with the goddamned weather, the sun’s out for god’s sake, I don’t know what they’re fucking thinking, if they are thinking at all -”

“Hey. Hey. Tooru.” Iwaizumi gentled his voice, pitching it as low and soothing as he could over the line. “Tooru, sweetheart.”

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I wrote The Thing. No warnings necessary.

“To hell with the laurel wreaths.” Luke said. “I’m not going to end up like those dusty trophies in the Big House Attic.”

“You make it sound like you’re leaving.”

Luke gave me a twisted smile. “Oh, I’m leaving, all right, Percy. I brought you down here to say goodbye.”

I jerked out from under his arm. “What?”

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my love || kyungsoo

[1]  [2]  [3]

I finally finished the last part. Yay for me! Enjoy~

2676 words; soulmate!au; kyungsoo/reader scenario; angst, fluff

“Does anything like that trigger any…memories?” The boy, who introduced himself as Baekhyun, asks. He leans his elbows on the table between you two, staring at you with such intensity, your reply comes out in a nervous voice.

“N-No,” you can’t help but feel terrible. This Kyungsoo boy…if all this was true, you can’t help but imagine how much pain he must be feeling at the moment because you, the love of his life, can’t remember.

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Keeping up Appearances

Pairing: Wonshik x Taekwoon

Rating: NC-17

Warnings:  AU, explicit male x male, awful romance, angst, mature language/themes.

Wordcount: 9537

Notes:  a bit of an AU where Wonshik is famous but Taekwoon isn’t of sorts. A bit of a twist on the coffee shop AU. And I’m a bitch for long haired Taekwoon just bear with me ok? It just laid in my drafts and it was begging to get finished idk I hope y’all like it I slaved over it all day to make it presentable somehow…love y’all xoxo 

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Reality Check

By winchestersandwordprocessors

Warnings: Implied non-con (Sam/Lucifer).

Words: ~10000

Summary: Sometime after Castiel knocked down the wall in Sam’s mind it became apparent to the younger Winchester that all the king’s horses and all the king’s men could never put Sammy back together again. Sam began hearing Lucifer, seeing him during the day as well as the night, his life slowly melting into a stream-of-consciousness nightmare.In a rusted out warehouse Dean gave Sam a way to cope- the physical sensation of here-and-now pain helped to block out the mental agony of Satan in his head, scratching away at Sam’s resistance. But what happened when Sam’s hand healed and pain was no longer available as a distraction?Well, Dean comes up with a solution to that too, one that ends with nightmares broken, lips locked together, and bodies pressed against each other on the hood of the Impala out under the stars.This is the story of how Sam losing his grip on reality ended up giving the Winchester brothers the greatest reality check of their lives. (Loosely based around 7x02)


Time always fractured strangely for hunters, measured not in hours and minutes but in beats of a heart, in survivors interviewed, in lives lost, in people saved. Hunters went days without sleep, too long without being called by their real name- like the superheroes of old, their identity cradled close to the chest- went weeks or months or years without speaking publicly of the truth.

Hunters lived on the fringe, they walked along the razor’s edge of the abyss, that fine line between right and wrong, life and death; hunters danced in the grey area, the place of suspended morals and truths and reality.

Sam had grown up on that line, had cut his teeth on the cold steel of a hunter’s life; when his reality shifted it was so subtle that even he wondered if it was happening. He had been and seen and done so much that surely there was nothing left for his imagination left to invent, the well-spring of fictional terrors run dry, the bogeyman consumed by the horrors that truly do go bump in the night.

He was wrong.

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Concussed (Avengers x Reader) Part 3

You stepped into the elevator, silent and blushing, awkwardly avoiding eye contact with the man who was currently staring you down, his blond eyebrow raised.

“Little late to be out, don’t you think?”

You rocked back and forth on the heels of your feet, hands thrusted deep into the pockets of your pajama shorts. Damn your timing and damn Bucky for texting you. “Uh-no?” You managed a non-chalante tone and shrugged your shoulders, chewing on your lower lip. “You know me Cap, always been a night owl.”

You could see him cross his arms out of the corner of your eye. “Oh are you now. Was this before or after your brain rattled around in your skull and it swelled?”

“It did not swell,” You snapped, shooting him a glare and crossing your arms with a huff. “I got hurt, get over it.”

“Really, (Y/N)?” He asked, eyes narrowing as he turned to inspect you. “Because I’m fairly certain severe head trauma can result in the swelling of the brain which is shown through fluid leaking from the nose and ears. And uh-” Steve leaned closer towards you. “What was it exactly that was coming from your ears?”

“Snot,” You replied haughtily, before the elevator dinged and you stepped out, but not before punching the close door button. “Have a wonderful night Captain.” You gave a mock salute before turning your back on him and moving towards the kitchen. There was a series of muttered words from the old man before the doors to the elevator slid closed. Thank the Lord.

When you did step into the kitchen, you found Bucky sitting on one of the bar stools, a glass of water in front of him. He turned when he heard you enter.

“Hey,” He greeted, patting the seat beside him. “So much for meeting you at the elevator.”

You grimaced as you sat next to him. “Sorry ‘bout that, I ran into Steve and got a lecture about my concussion and all the head injury jazz.”

Bucky chuckled before bringing his glass to his lips. “He can be a bit of a hard ass, but he is right you know-”

“James Buchanan Barnes,” You started, thrusting your finger into his face. “If you dare try to lecture me about my head after dragging me out of bed I swear to God I’ll-”

“Alright alright alright!” His laughter cut you off and his hand wrapped around your finger, pushing your hand back into your lap. “I won’t say anything, I won’t say anything.”

You shot him a scowl before dragging his glass of water towards you. “Better not, dick face.” You took a few gulps of the filtered water before setting it back down on the granite counter top. Bucky only swatted at your arm, pulling his glass back towards himself.

“So, you wanna make us some food?” You rested her hands under your chin and shot him what you hoped was an endearing smile. His eyebrows only shot up.

“You’re the one who’s supposed to be the cook here.”

“Because I’m a woman?” You asked dryly, glancing over at the dark haired man. His mischevious smirk only proved he was teasing you.

“Maybe,” Was his only response before your palm came into contact with the back of his head as you cuffed him.

“Dick face,” You grumbled, but you couldn’t help the grin that tore free. Bucky was cute, and the fact that he was in a tight wife beater that hugged every curve of his muscles didn’t help your mind from racing. Which was actually bad, you realized.

“Why don’t we just have cereal,” He offered, sliding off of the stool and moving around to the other side of the bar where all of the cupboards were. “I’m pretty sure there’s lucky charms and other good stuff in here.” He reached up, shirt lifting to reveal his lower back as he pulled a box from the cupboard. You were a very, very lucky woman to be able to live and be friends with such an incredibly attractive group of men.

“I’ll have some of the charms,” You chimed, stifling a yawn. You crossed your arms across the top of the counter, lowering your head to rest your chin on your forearms as Bucky pulled bowls down from the cupboard and continued to finish putting together your late night snack. The air conditioning was never off in this tower during the warmer months of the year and sometimes it was a pain in the ass, just like right now; your arms had sprouted goosebumps and a shiver slowly slid up the back of your neck. But there was absolutely no way Tony would let you turn it down, because for some God forsaken reason-

There was a loud click and suddenly you were slumped against the fridge, an obxiously loud ringing filling your ears. Oh God, what the hell was-

You groaned as you struggled to pull your eyes open. There was debris strewn across the kitchen and the counter you had been sitting at moments before had half of it blown off. The bar stool lay a few feet to your left and-

Oh my God Bucky. Where was Bucky?!

You spun your head to look at where he had been standing just moments before and immediately snapped your eyes shut. Oh God, bad idea. Your head was pounding. It was like someone had substituted your skull for a punching bag and had gone to town on it. For Christ’s sake.

You couldn’t help the groan that tore through you. When you did manage to open your eyes, your vision was blurred and it swayed, but you continued to sweep the room for your friend. He better be alive…

When your gaze did land on him your heart stopped. He lay face down on the floor, a piece of debris lodged in his calf. He definitely had a head wound, you realized as you spotted the blood that caked his hair. Oh Bucky…
You needed to help him. Bucky was worse for wear and if you didn’t get him out of here, and soon, your situations could get even worse.

Arms shaking heavily, you struggled to push the debris that had landed on you off of your lap. There was dust everywhere, and anything that had been in the way of the blast now lay in pieces in the destroyed kitchen. Tony would be livid.

Tony. Where was he? Where was the team? Hadn’t they heard it? What if there had been more than one blast? What if they were busy and you and Bucky never got help? What if one of them needed help? What if one of them was dea-

“Stop!” You whispered to yourself, squeezing your hands into fists. You winced when your left hand ached at the movement and when you looked down you noticed that a piece of glass was protruding from the palm. Lifting up your hand to inspect it, you felt nausea roll through your stomach when you noticed that the piece of glass had pushed through your hand, and was sticking out the back of it. The blood was running down your arm and your gaze lazily lifted to peer at the glass again. It was jagged, you realized, and pulling it out on your own could do more damage than good.

“Shit,” You grumbled, and winced as your voice rang in your head. You really should have stayed in bed, you really really should have just stayed in bed. Using your right hand to prop yourself up, you slowly pushed away from the fridge which you had been sitting against and shakily stood. Your calf had been cut and bruised and a gash on your thigh was bleeding heavily. You had to get that fixed asap.

Breaths escaping you in heavy gasps, you stumbled the few feet over to where Bucky lay and dropped down next to him, careful to keep your bad hand cradled against your chest. “Bucky,” You called, gently shaking him. “Bucky!” It was a little louder this time. Your heart started racing as panic started to bloom in your chest. “Buck!” You shook him harder and suddenly he moaned, coughing afterwards.

“What in the hell-” He groaned and shakily pushed himself up using one arm before he dropped back down. “My head…”

“I think you hit it,” You explained, clearing the area around him as best you could with only one hand before you gently rolled him over. “We need to get out of here, before you get any worse.”

When he was finally on his back, he winced at the bright fluorescent lights above him. “What in the hell happened in here? I was just making cereal and then-”

“I don’t know, maybe a bomb,” You cut in, gently pushing him up into a sitting position and ignoring the ache in your body when you did so. “But we really need to move Bucky. I know it hurts but trust me-” You grunted as you helped him stand, wrapping your arm around his back when he stumbled. “-We gotta go get help.”

He only nodded, hair hanging in front of his eyes as he stumbled along, carefully picking your way through the broken pieces of the once beautifully designed kitchen.

Bucky braced himself against the door frame when you finally made it there, struggling to catch his breath as you peered into the hallway. You could hear people shouting and running, and you hoped to God it was your friends and not the crazed lunatic (or team of them) that had been the cause of the explosion.

“All clear,” You whispered to Bucky and he nodded, gritting his teeth against the ache in his leg as he limped along with you, your arm across his back supporting him as he leaned into you.

The common area was just a few feet down the hallway and hopefully nothing bad had happened to it either. If you could just make it there and set Bucky on a couch, then maybe you could call for hel-

“Bucky! (Y/N)!”

You snapped your head up at the sound of your names and nearly burst into tears of relief when you caught sight of Natasha sprinting towards you.

“Nat-” You called and suddenly you wobbled, your knee giving out before both you and Bucky tumbled towards the ground. The pair of you groaned, and when you glanced over at Bucky you saw that he even more blood had coated his hair now.

“Buck!” You shouted, shaking him. “Natasha help him!”

Suddenly she was crouched in front of the two of you, frowning in worry as she hastily looked over both of your injuries.

“Get him to safety first,” You spoke before she could. “He’s got debris lodged in his left calf, a massive head trauma and he’s losing blood fast.”

She looked between the two of you before swallowing hard. “You have a heavily bleeding wound on your thigh and your damn well lucky you didn’t cut your artery or you would have bled out. You’ve landed another head injury on top of your concussion and is that-is that glass in your hand?”

You nodded, offering a watery smile. “Yes m'am.”

Natasha stared at you in disbelief before she stood, hooking her hands under your armpits and dragging you towards the wall before she set you against it. “Don’t move,” She commanded. “Someone’s already on there way. I’m going to take Bucky now. And keep pressure on that wound,” She chastised, taking your good hand and pressing it against the gash on your thigh. You could only manage a weak nod.

She was gone a few moments later, a groggy Bucky slung over her shoulders. How she’d managed to carry him, you had no idea.

A quiet sob left you as you opened your eyes, the adrenaline no longer available to keep the extent of your injuries at bay. Your vision was blurred and swimming, your head aching and it was hard to breathe. You were just so tired…

Stay awake.

You snapped your eyes open, slapping your hand back to the wound on your thigh. It had slid off and you quickly looked around the hallway for your rescuer. There was no one to be seen.

Your eyes felt heavy, so very, very heavy. Every so gently, you allowed your head to fall back and rest against the wall. You could feel your head pulsing and it had only tripled in pain since the initial blast.


You turned your head slowly, squinting through your blurred vision in a vain attempt to see who was shouting your name. They were tall, that much you knew, but you couldn’t make out who they were, especially with how your vision was swaying back and forth.

They were crouched in front of you in the next few seconds, hurriedly looking over you. Your vision was clearing every few seconds before it would blur and sway again but that was all it took to recognize him.

“Steve,” You slurred, offering a smile. To Steve, it looked more like a grimace. You felt his hand gently move up your face and when he pulled it back he looked even more worried.

“You’re bleeding from your ears,” He said and suddenly his arms were underneath you and he was pulling you against him as he stood.

That was bad, you realized. Your mind seemed to be working in slow motion, like it was rusty and sluggish. Maybe it was just the exhaustion. “I’m tired,” You confessed, body held tight against Steve’s as he ran towards where ever the rest of the group had decided was safe.

“Don’t close your eyes,” He commanded. “You hear me? Keep them open.”

Your vision, which was still heavily blurred, was darkening around the edges. Your eyelids felt incredibly weighed and heavy. You had zero control over what happened next, although Steve would yell at you for it anyways.

Your eyelids slid closed and suddenly, you were out for the count.

When a Levi Breaks

A/N - Hellooo! Sorry it’s been a while but I’m back. This story is a one-shot but if it’s well received and you guys like it, it could turn into something more. *wink wink* 

Title - When a Levi Breaks

Pairing - Reader x Dean

Warnings - stabbing, kinda angs-y, fatal injury, kissing, painful angel mojo

Word Count - 2,219

Imagine going on a hunt and a Leviathan taking over your body and then proceeding to out your feelings for Dean.


You can feel it inside your head; hear it taunting and growling. The monster wants so badly to take control. You’re fighting it, a lame attempt against something far too powerful. If Castiel couldn’t fight one, you had no chance. There was no plan for these creatures. No back up. None of you had anticipated them. The thought hadn’t even crossed your mind.

“Y/N!” Dean bursts into the room, some kind of grimy old supply room in the warehouse you were hunting in.

As the door practically flies off its hinges, a wave of pain and vertigo sends you to your knees, clutching at your stomach. You raise a hand and manage to gasp something about staying back or running.

The monster in your head is twisting your insides; propelling spasms of convulsion through your entire body. If a gunshot or a knife wound was pain, this was far beyond agony. It’s like the creature has grabbed a hold of your entire body, with flaming hands, and is contorting it. You can hear the monster inside your mind. It’s laughing. It finds it hysterical that you aren’t strong enough.

“Y/N, what’s going on?! What happened!” Dean tries to move for you, ignoring your shouts telling him to flee, but when he nears you, you push him back with more force than you’d though you had. He flies back, his gun skidding across the room.

“I said stay back!” You grit your teeth as you fall back against the filthy concrete wall. “It wasn’t - demons.” You gulp, gasping for breath between words. “Or - hellhounds. We - were - wrong.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Dean gets to his feet, eying his gun a couple of yards away.
“You need to get Sam.” You choke, “And - run! I can’t hold on … much … longer.”

“Hold on from what?” Dean’s gaze locks onto you, his eyes steady on your writhing form.

You’re trying, as hard as you can, to hold on. Staring at Dean. Focusing on the man you care so much about, and knowing that, if this thing takes over, there’s nothing stopping it from hurting him.

There’s a flutter of wings as Cas appears, a short distance away from Dean; Sam is leaning on his shoulder, breathing heavily and holding his arm where you can just see the edge of a knife slash. Both of them look tired, battle worn.

“Dean? Y/N? What’s going on?” Sam looks from you to his brother and back again.

“It’s - coming.  I - can’t - stop - it.” You realize how weak all of you are as you choke out the last warning. “Leviathan!”

Something in you seems to snap. The paper thin barrier between you and this monster, splits and disappears. The creature is flooding over you now; taking control of your body, and forcing you into a tiny corner of your mind where all you can do is watch.

There is no stranger nor horrible feeling as that of being locked out of your own body. The Leviathan starts to laugh as it looks at the Winchesters and Castiel through your eyes. The laugh comes from your mouth but it is not your laugh. It’s cold, wicked.

“Boys, boys, boys.” The Leviathan shakes your head and gives a slow clap. “It is an honor to finally meet you. Really, I am just thrilled.”

“Y/N?” Sam asks, voice wavering.

“Close but no cigar!” The Leviathan cackles, “I mean, she’s here, but I’m the new ringmaster. I’m captain of the S.S. Y/F/N now.”

“Let her go.” Dean’s voice is gruff, not like you’ve ever heard it before.

All you want to do is to run to him and tell him it’s going to be alright. But it isn’t and you can’t. The monster has control. You’re powerless.

“I swear to god if you hurt her anymore, I’ll kill you.” Dean takes a step forward, drawing another gun from behind his back.

The Leviathan doesn’t hesitate to smile and sidles up to Dean, positioning your body so that the gun rests directly against your chest. Even through your flannel shirt, you can feel the cold metal of the weapon. The monster won’t let you flinch. You try to move, willing yourself to dodge away from the object capable of ending your life in a fraction of a second, but the Leviathan won’t let you.

“You won’t kill me. Not without taking precious little Y/N here too.” The monster laughs as Dean lowers the gun. “She’s in here still, you know.”

You can feel it rooting through your mind; racking your brain for memories, thoughts, experiences, emotions. There’s no way you can stop it. The thing is practically absorbing every part of you. Learning your secrets, dreams, nightmares.

“Oh Dean,” The Leviathan grins a wicked grin, “The things in this kid’s grapefruit. You have no clue how gooey eyed she is for you.”

“Stop.”  You can’t say it aloud, but the Leviathan hears you loud and clear.

“She’s loved you since the day she first laid eyes on you. I don’t blame her. You’re ideal, aren’t you? The handsome hero who comes to rescue his maiden and save her life.” The Leviathan raises your hand to gently graze Dean’s cheek for a moment before playfully slapping him across the face. It starts to move aimlessly away.

“Let Y/N go.” Dean demands, grabbing your wrist.

“What’re you gonna do, pretty boy? Kiss me to death?!” The creature hisses, “You can’t hurt me without hurting your girlfriend.”

You feel his grip tighten at the Leviathan’s choice of words. He closes his eyes, slowly, and swallows. If you could blush, you would.

“Oh this is rich,” That horrible cackle bellows from your throat, “Too scared to tell Y/N how you feel? Afraid it’ll ruin your friendship or partnership or whatever the hell this is?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking—”

“Don’t lie to me, Dean,” The Leviathan leans in so that your face is perhaps only an inch from his, “You. Love. This. Kid.”

“Stop talking.”  You’re still trying to regain control, ordering this creature to no avail. “Shut up!”

“She’s in here.” The Leviathan taps your forehead, smiling at Dean, “She’s begging me to stop talking, doesn’t want you to know how she really feels. But, then again, deep down, she wants you to know. Know how much she’s in love with you.”

“Shut your mouth.” Dean has still maintained his grip on your wrist.

Somewhere behind you there is a noise, maybe the sound of wings, but the next thing you know, Dean’s eyes soften for a moment as he tries to search yours for some speck of you. He gulps and takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Y/N, I’m so sorry.”

In one fluid motion, Dean twists your arm behind you and your whole body spins around to face Cas, who is holding a stake of some sort. You barely have time to register what it is as he plunges it into your middle. The pain spreads like a wildfire, burning hot and then cold. You can’t stand. Suddenly you’re falling.

“So they did have a back up for these things.”  

You can hear the Leviathan screaming as it perishes, defeated by the concoction on the stake. It’s no longer in you, but now you have a bigger problem, and it’s sticking out of your stomach.

“Y/N!” Dean rushes to catch you as you go down. “It’s okay. I’ve gotcha.”

You can feel his strong grip around you, gently cradling you in his arms. His eyes fall to the stake protruding from your midsection, then dart back to meet your gaze. You’re concentrating on Dean’s face, which, at the moment, is going in and out of a blurry focus. His eyes, turned a vibrant shade of green in the light of the warehouse, his chiseled jaw-line, and short tousled hair. You try to memorize it all.

“We need to get her to a hospital.” Dean says, looking up from you to Sam and Cas standing above the two of you.

A cry of pain escapes your lips as Dean shifts in an attempt to lift you.

“Dean, I don’t think she’s in any kind of state to try and move.” Sam says, coming down to his knees on your other side.

“Then Cas needs to heal her.” Dean’s voice has a gruff edge to it.

“It will be incredibly painful.” Cas says, “Because of the weapon I used, I can’t heal the same way.”

“I can handle it.” All three of your friends go silent, “I’ve got a stake in my stomach right now. Just get it out. I’ll be fine.”  

“You’re sure?” Dean asks, the gruffness in his tone replaced by concern.

“Doesn’t look like we’ve got a lot of options.” You reply, taking a deep breath in, “Get on with it, Cas.”

“My apologies in advance.” Cas says, solemnly.

He bends down and places a hand on the top of the stake, the other hovering, at the ready, next to it. With military precision, the angel twists and pulls the stake from its lodgings and replaces it with his hand.

Actually being stabbed hurt like hell, so this, this, was a thousand times worse. The pain rips through your stomach like an animal tearing right through your body. You shut your eyes and screamed with the agony, tears leaking through your closed eyes.

“I’ve got you. I’m right here. It’ll be over soon.” You feel Dean’s strong grip around you and hear his low voice, as he murmurs soothing words into your ear. “Hold on, for me, Y/N. You’ll be okay.”

You begin to feel a different sensation as a Castiel’s hand emits a bright light. His hand is white hot against your torn flesh, healing but in the most uncomfortable was possible.

“Dean! Dean it hurts!” You cry, instinctively burying your face in Dean’s side.

“I know, Y/N, I know it hurts. It’s gonna be okay.” Dean says, quietly, squeezing you a little tighter. “Cas …”

“Almost done. I have to make sure the Leviathan is really gone.” Cas doesn’t waver at Dean’s stern tone. “Dean, I need you to distract her, it will help ease the pain of this last bit.”

“You mean the stake wasn’t the worst part?” You choke, opening your eyes to glance at Cas.

“Unfortunately, no.” Cas replies, not quite meeting your eyes. “The sensation will mimic smiting. I’m sorry.”

You take a deep breath in and lean your head back to look up at Dean’s face, just above yours.

“Well, you heard him, Winchester.” You say, “Distract me.”

As Cas adjusts so that both hands are places on your stomach, Dean leans down and, before you can process, his lips are against yours. The kiss is tender and you give him all you can, trying to forget about the intense heated pain in your middle. Your eyes are closed again, focusing on this feeling, but, as much as you don’t want to, you pull away as you let out a cry when the pain hits a high.

The white light has returned and Cas was right; if you could be smote and live to tell the tale this is what it would feel like. The feeling was similar to what you’d guess it would feel like if you laid across an open fire. While you’ve pulled away from him, Dean takes the opportunity to kiss your forehead and whisper words of encouragement into your ears.

“It’s okay, baby,” Your heart flutters and you’re eased slightly at the nickname, “Almost done, then you’ll be all better.”

You fumble around with a limp hand, searching for his own. Dean takes notice and takes ahold of your hand, grasping it tightly. You stutter out his name.

“I’m here, Y/N, I’m here.” He gives your hand another squeeze and your forehead another kiss.

It goes on like this for at least another minute or so. Pain. Assurance. Kiss. Pain. Assurance. Kiss. Slowly the pain begins to dwindle and the light from the angel’s hands goes out. And just as suddenly as the pain had come, it was gone.

“Again, my apologies, Y/N.” Cas mutters, standing up. “You will want to rest for a few days before you are back to normal.”

“Thanks, Cas,” You reply, managing a little smile, “That hurt like hell, but thanks.”

“We should get out of here.” Sam pipes up.

During the whole ordeal of the healing, he had moved across the room, not wanting to watch. Now he was making his way back over to where you and Dean sat on the floor.

“There might be more of them.” He continues.

“Yeah …” Dean clears his throat, shuffling a bit to get a good grip on you. “Let me help you up.”

You stand on a count of three, or at least, try to stand. Dean lifts and you land on your feet which immediately buckle under your body weight. Luckily, Dean catches you before you find the floor again.

“Woah, there. Here, I’m gonna carry you.” Despite your protests, Dean swoops you, gently, off your feet and you make your way to the impala bridal style.

“Winchester?” You murmur into his shoulder.


“You kissed me.”

“Yeah …”

There’s a moment of silence, just the sound of feet against concrete, before Dean stops in his tracks, right next to the impala.

“Y/N, what the leviathan said, about you and me and …”

Your breath hitches in your throat as you remember all the things that the creature had said. It then occurs to you that this was the first time Dean was hearing about your feeling about him. And from a monster that sounded like you, no less.

“Dean, what that thing said-” He cut you off by pressing another kiss to your lips.

You lift a hand up to the back of his head and run your fingers through his hair. Still kissing him, your lips form into a smile. Only a few minutes ago, you were set on dying. Now the hunter you’d fallen for was carrying you and kissing you.

“Dean,” You whisper, leaning your forehead against his.


“I think I’m in love with you.” Maybe Cas’ healing process left your brain a little foggy, like anesthesia, or maybe you were just caught up in the moment, but it just slipped out.

“You know what, Y/N, I think I’m in love with you, too.”