#but i was listening to a podcast a few weeks back

[wastemanjohn]

TW misogyny emotional abuse sexual assault

i am not going to use the term 4b movement for this post because I have recently become aware it has problematic/transphobic associations. however the idea of decentering men - not dating men, not marrying men, not having sex with men, not having children with men - is gaining traction for a reason. it was gaining traction before the US election, and after yesterday - well. i don't need to explain do i?

it's terrifying. the hatred of women. the enjoyment of the hatred of women, the revelling in the hatred. the women who join in with the hatred, maybe thinking they're different. maybe thinking they'll be spared from it. that they can camouflage, hide somehow.

it won't work.

on a more individual level, so many of us have fucking had enough. we are tired. we are sick of the podcast bros demeaning us for our "body counts." we are done with the constant policing and control of what we do with our bodies, and in america's case the very real and terrifying threat to life and health that has arisen from that. we are done with the daily objectification, humiliation and harassment. we are done with weaponised incompetence, we are done with having our careers and areas of knowledge mansplained to us, we are done with being sluts and prudes and always being wrong no matter what.

can you blame us? can you really fucking blame us?

men are conditioned to hate us. some recognise that and work on it. unfortunately, many, many more do not.

the first time i heard labour by paris paloma i bawled my eyes out and couldn't entirely understand why.

the first time i read the husband stitch by carmen maria machado i bawled my eyes out and couldn't entirely understand why.

i understand now.

i think many of us have quietly stopped dating men before we even knew there was a movement around it. at least it seems that way to me. but just speaking on my own experience - i haven't really been dating men since early 2023. i briefly dated men again a few months back; i abruptly stopped because it sucked. because, hand on my heart, since i stopped dating men - i have never been happier, freer, and more secure in myself. i have never been more fucking content.

my life is beautiful now. i have my wonderful friendships. i have my loving bonkers family. i have my career, i have my aspirations, i have my wealth of interests and hobbies, i have my beautiful (four legged) sons. all of these things are so much sweeter when i can enjoy them in peace.

peace; when i'm not picking up after him because he can't be bothered to walk two feet to put his dirty underwear in the laundry basket. when i'm not heartbroken for months because i thought i was going to marry him but he had another long term girlfriend and a whole other life that he kept secret from me for so embarrassingly long. when i'm not doing mental gymnastics to excuse that time he made jokes about my sexual abuse, when he was the first person i really told, or the time he didn't comfort me and didn't understand why i was so upset when another ex of mine was in court for viewing CSAM. when i'm not spending another weekend alone due to him cancelling at the last minute yet again for his mates. when i'm not feeling vulnerable and confused because we've negotiated a scene and he purposely crosses my limits because it's hot to him (so many times). when i dont have to listen to everyone say what a nice guy he is but he's been pressuring me for nudes for the last two weeks.

when he can't handle my proportionate emotions and suggests i'm just being mentally ill when i'm trying to communicate that he's hurt me. when he tells me it's a good thing i've taken up dance because i'll get more toned and be able to open my legs wider. when he drives really fast and erratic because he's pissed off with me and wants to scare me. when he lies to me about having huntington's disease so i won't break up with him.

every one of these is a different guy BTW. and this is just off the top of my head.

how many stories do you have?

anyway 100/10 highly recommend being a spinster with cats. society hates strong, self assured women who can make it alone. i have never wanted to be that woman more.

and no - before anyone comes at me I am not saying all men are monsters or that only men are abusive. i do not hate men just for being men. i have some great men in my life as friends and family. i am merely making the right choice for me based on my experiences, based on how hostile the current climate is towards women, and i support the fuck out of anyone who is doing or wants to do the same. sorrows and fucking prayers to anyone who has a problem with that.

i don't see why i should keep my experiences to myself. why any of us should.

my DMs are open for anyone who needs someone to talk to about this stuff.

[apollowatchesmovies]

December 20

Movie 92

Vertigo

[gobstoppr]

Tetris Fanart.

I've been playing tetris while listening to horror podcasts. and yeah

[paeinovis]

it is genuinely crazy how little doctors tell u abt procedures before they do them, it should be explained wtf something is before they do it like ask if the patient actually knows what x procedure entails and what it will be like before subjecting them to it

[cabeswaterdrowned]

I need an audiobook to listen to … maybe I’ll start the Scorpio races …

[hereforyourdispleasure]

WHERE AER YEW

AND OIM SEW SARRAY

[lavender---sunshine]

in all seriousness i 90% sure im going to quit my job tomorrow and for a while i will have just enough money to live on and will have to spruce up my resume and job hunt and stress but MY GOD i need to do something else because this is making me suicidal

[united-under-skyfall]

.

[the-ash-holio]

Is it just me, or is having your Spotify discover weekly feed you the perfect songs just straight up cathartic?

[what-even-is-thiss]

The reason people don’t want to work is that it’s just normal for them to be in bad work environments.

My issue with working at Walmart wasn’t the work itself I was doing. It was the circumstances around it. The concrete floor, lack of places to sit, having to put up with asshole customers, not getting time off for injuries, and bad pay.

If I had been given shock pads to stand on or a few chairs to rest on sometimes, if they paid me a livable amount of money and I was allowed to yell back at asshole customers, if they had given me any amount of training, I would happily work part time folding clothes all day and telling people where the swimsuit section is.

I’m a creative type. I’m a writer. I’m pretty smart, even. But if I could make a living folding shirts and listening to podcasts in one ear and helping people find the scented candles for 30 hours a week? I would. Leaves some mental space free for me to brainstorm. Lets me catch up on my reading with audiobooks.

But instead I was treated so badly by upper management and customers that I’m like legitimately a little frightened whenever I step into a Walmart now. And I only worked there for three months a few years ago.

I’m a good lower level worker. When I’m treated well. I like finishing tasks. I like being helpful. I like having some time to talk to coworkers and some time alone with my thoughts. I’m a frickin team player. And that’s how I was at my first job. I was treated well by my supervisor. I was trained. They were patient with me. I was so good at being low on the totem pole at that job because I was valued and felt like I was being listened to. I was able to sit still when there was nothing left to do which made it feel less bad when we were on a time crunch. I didn’t mind working hard at that job because it was fun even though I was doing all the low level stuff that the supervisors didn’t want do.

But at Walmart I was like that for all of two days. Then I figured out that nobody appreciated my work and if I worked in my normal people pleasing manner I’d kill myself because their standards were high and the rewards for meeting them were low.

So I slowed down. I started avoiding customers. I started taking a lot longer to get to my breaks and to come back from them. I became worse at my job because no matter how good I was at it there would be no reward, no appreciation, and I’d just be pushed further beyond my limits.

My only level of happiness from that job came from the people who were working with me. The old ladies and my department manager who made sure I wasn’t overextending myself. The one other young man working in the clothing department who always got sent with me to unload the heavy stuff and commiserated with me about the shoulder injuries, the hurting feet we were too young to have.

But none of that was enough to make me stay. We were constantly understaffed. I was constantly abused by customers and not able to do a thing about it. I was not paid much at all. So as soon as I had enough saved up for what I was trying to do and my last semester of college was about to start I handed in my two weeks.

I would have found a way to stay if I liked that job. If I liked that job I would’ve pushed myself to my mental limits to finish college and keep that job at the same time. Heck that job could’ve been a rest from college. A place to get away from it. But I hate that job so I got out as soon as I could.

I want to work. I want enough money to live sort of comfortably. I want to have some tasks to do to give my creativity a rest. I want to be a part of something. But the way that modern corporate run work environments are set up does not give me any of the things I actually want out of a job. And I think that’s the same for millions of people right now. A lot of people would happily spend their lives as a waitress or an Uber driver or a warehouse worker or a farmhand or any other “low skill” job you can possibly think of. But with the way the world works right now those jobs are absolutely miserable. It doesn’t have to be that way. I know because I’ve had a fulfilling part time minimum wage job that I looked forward to going to every week. A job where I was listened to and allowed to sit when I needed to. I miss that job. Especially now since I’ve realized that’s not the standard. It should be. People should look forward to going to work or at the very least not get mild ptsd whenever they set foot into a Walmart.

[sanchoyo]

annoyed I’m not getting as many hours as I’d like at work bc when I started they were giving me mad overtime 😔 ik it’s probably the holidays but at this rate it’s gonna take me (materialistic) forever to get the things I want and actually need ☹️ tentatively once again considering if I’d have enough self discipline to do something like a patreon before remembering I hate putting stuff behind paywalls 😭

[gaystardykeco]

hanging out with my mom is fun bc i always leave with so many fun new facts about the erie canal

[nerdangels]

Both my managers are out and i have nothing to do at work i may as well go home

[wososcripts]

Face to Face (III)

Fridolina Rolfö x reader; Alexia Putellas x reader (platonic); Barça x reader (platonic)

Summary: your Barça teammates swoop in to save the day (or at least they do their best)

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: okay don't kill me but Frido isn't in this much... enjoy some sweet Barça hurt/comfort to make up for it because she'll be back soon. as usual everything is pure fiction and written in good fun! PREVIOUS PART

Warnings ⚠️: medical description, slight angst

"Hola Nena," Alexia said in a hushed voice as she came into your hospital room. Laura and Zećira had left earlier that morning with your mom, assuring you they would be back later in the evening.

Alexia had a stuffed giraffe and a small bouquet of yellow roses in hand, and she looked at you with soft eyes. You smiled at her weakly, the light in the room dim enough that the subtleties in her face were blurred. If you focused too much on them your head began to hurt more intensely.

"¿Cómo estás?"

You gave her a thumbs up, pleased with the smile you got out of her.

It was quickly replaced again with concern as you winced, a sharp pain searing behind your eyes as she set a vase down on the windowsill for the flowers.

"Has anyone else been over to visit?"

You knew it was Alexia's subtle way of asking if Frido had come. As far as you knew Alexia was in the dark as to your relationship (or lack thereof) with the Swede, but you could never be sure with her.

"Laura… Zećira and Magda came right after the game."

Alexia nodded. She took the giraffe and placed it on your chest, shaking it a bit as if you were a child she wanted to entice.

"You know you'll be out of training for a bit, sí?"

"Sí."

You weren't pleased with it, but there was no denying that you needed the rest. You could barely bear to open the blinds for now.

"Jona agrees, you should stay with someone when you get home. A few of the girls have spare rooms, so there's options. Ingrid and Mapí offered, and of course you can stay with me if you want."

You thought for a moment, letting Alexia's fast Spanish sink in. Your brain felt sluggish, as if everything took thirty seconds longer.

"If you don't mind… maybe I can stay with you?"

Alexia put a hand over yours, smiling brightly.

"Of course. I'd be happy to have you."

You chuckled.

"I'm not sure I'll be much fun for the next few weeks."

Alexia shrugged.

"It doesn't matter to me, we all take you how you are."

A comfortable silence fell over the room, and you began drifting off. Alexia promised to stay while you slept, her hand protectively on your calf as she studied up for the next Barça game.

Cómo está la alemana? Alexia saw her phone light up with a text from Mapí. She quickly snapped a photo of you asleep, frowning at your coloring and the wires that monitored your heartbeat. It was just a precaution, but it reminded one of how much worse this could've been.

Sleeping. She replied, attaching the photo.

Her head? Mapí replied immediately.

Not good, but not horrible. No training for a few weeks. Doctor said it was a serious concussion, but not severe.

Alexia watched as the three dots indicating Mapí was texting popped up, then disappeared, repeating a few times. Finally, just the message.

I'm glad she's okay.

Alexia knew there was much more weight behind that text than met the eye. You were vital to Barça—every player was, of course. But you had a kindness in you that helped glue the team together even when things were falling apart. Everyone was fond of you, and those you seemed to have chosen on the team (Mapí included) as your close friends cherished that. It was as if you had shone a light on them just by being around.

Alexia thought just of how much your Spanish had improved in the past few months. You spoke better Spanish than most of the international players—and it wasn't just because you had some kind of propensity for language. Alexia had seen you studying in your free time, listening to podcasts, practicing. She asked you once, why you did that; you replied that you simply wanted to understand them better.

That was how you were, thoughtful and kind and lovable. And it hurt everyone on the team to see you hurt—particularly because there was an added element of complexity with it having been Frido who caused it.

"Alexia?" Your groggy voice called out, "can you hand me my cup of water, please?"

"Of course, Nena."

Alexia watched as you drank slowly, and sat by as a nurse came in to examine you. She checked your pupils again, and didn't look pleased.

"I'm going to ask the doctor to order another round of scans, just to double check that no bleeds have popped up that we didn't see before."

"Why?" Alexia asked, concerned. She didn't feel equipped to deal with this totally on her own, especially with the doctor speaking English so quickly, with seemingly no time to explain or guide her through things.

"They're worried I've got a bleed in my brain because of how I fell, Ale." You explained to her.

"I thought they already checked that?" Alexia replied, trying to keep her Spanish slow enough for you to easily understand.

"Sometimes things can only show up on the scans after a little while, because they start so small. I hurt my head when I was younger in a similar area, so they're being extra careful."

Alexia rubbed her temples, worry increasing massively. She turned to the doctor.

"Will she be able to come home, still?"

"If the scans come out clean, then yes. She can be taken back to Spain." The nurse looked to you and asked in German, "you have a doctor there, yes?"

You nodded.

"She will need to be checked again in a little while, and monitored. Does she live with anyone?"

"She'll be living with me." Alexia assured the nurse.

A little while later, the doctor came in and wheeled you off to the CT scan. Alexia was not allowed to accompany you, so she stayed behind, waiting for you in that empty room. Suddenly it truly hit her how serious things could've been. There hadn't been more than a few bruises on you, so it wasn't as easy to understand how hurt you were. ACL, meniscus, these were things Alexia knew. Head injuries? Those certainly felt more daunting.

"María?" Alexia spoke into the phone.

"Alexia? Is everything okay?"

Alexia bit her lip, wishing she could keep herself in check a little more.

"Alexia?" Mapí repeated.

"Yes, sorry, yes I think so. They took her for more scans and it just… I don't know, it hit me."

Alexia heard Mapí speaking to someone in the background.

"Is someone with you?"

"Sí, Ingrid is here, and Pina and Patri are over for a movie. But I stepped out, so talk."

"The doctors were talking about brain bleeds and surgery, and I just couldn't handle it. She was so calm and I felt like I was freaking out…"

"Brain bleeds?" Mapí exclaimed, fear in her voice. Alexia heard something in the background. "Does she need surgery?"

"They don't know if she has one yet. The first scan was clear but apparently they can take a while to be visible."

"Dios mio… one moment, Ale, Ingrid is demanding I tell her what you're saying."

Alexia listened in to the faint mumblings from the other line, looking at the floor. There were raised voices and then a few more joined in, and Mapí returned.

"You're on speaker now, Ale."

"She has a brain bleed?" Ingrid’s voice appeared, a mix of anger and concern evident.

"No, no, they don't know yet. They're checking."

"Is she talking? Does she seem okay?" Patri interjected.

"Sí, she was talking fine. Her head hurts, of course. She can't handle much light, or focus very well yet." Alexia paused. "I don't know if she seems okay, but she'll recover."

The muttering on the other end picked up again, this time more audible. The girls were worried, of course.

"Why the hell did Frido hit her so hard!" Patri exclaimed, then it sounded as if someone had lightly smacked her. But nobody seemed to have a good answer.

Alexia explained what more she could from what the doctors and Laura had told her about your condition, and promised to update them again later. Ingrid promised to keep the other girls in the loop so they wouldn’t bother Alexia, which she appreciated. Everything felt overwhelming enough as it was.

Eventually Alexia hung up once she heard your voice from outside of the door.

“Brain bleed free, Ale!” you smiled as the nurse wheeled you back into the room. You had the stuffed giraffe she gave you clenched in your hand, and you waved it at her as you spoke for emphasis.

“Yep, the scans look perfectly normal.” The nurse affirmed. “Now let’s not try our luck for a third time.”

You saluted her as she left the room, falling quiet soon after. Alexia could see that you were still low on energy.

“Why don’t you rest a little more? I’ll deal with the paperwork in the meantime. Then we can get you home.”

-

Olga had made up your room already when you arrived back in Barcelona. She greeted you and Alexia at the door, pressing a kiss to her girlfriend's lips and pulling you in for a soft hug.

"¿Cómo estás, linda?"

"Okay," you gave her a small smile.

"You're my baby for the week," Olga said, taking your arm out of Alexia's hold and instructing her to take your bags into the guest room.

You chuckled as Alexia rolled her eyes playfully and followed orders.

"Does it hurt a lot?"

You nodded, feeling like you could be honest with Olga.

“My ears won't stop ringing… it's driving me nuts.”

"Why don't you go and lay down on the couch for a bit? I'll make dinner in a little while."

After changing into a borrowed shirt and sweats you settled with your head in Alexia's lap. She was stroking your hair very gently, trying to do what she could to make you feel better. Once you were asleep she looked to Olga.

"How are you, mi amor?"

Alexia rubbed her eyes.

"Tired."

"You've had a few very difficult days… she'll be okay."

Olga looked at your sleeping form.

"I'm not sure how to approach it at practice next week." Alexia fell quiet, "I can't help but feel upset at Frido, because I don't understand. If she had looked worried, gone to visit, something, then it wouldn't seem so bad. But she just got up and ran away, didn't seem to care at all. It's so unlike her."

"You let her know that behavior isn't acceptable, yes?" Alexia nodded, "then that's all you can do. And keep an eye on her."

-

You walked out onto the training pitch carefully, a pair of sunglasses covering half of your face and a cap on your head. Alexia held your elbow, keeping you close. You were already shorter than much of the team but you somehow looked even smaller tucked into yourself like that. Hardly anyone had seen you since you got home because of Alexia's insistence that you rest; only Patri had managed to convince Alexia to let her come over, and that was because she was one of your best friends on the team and you were dying of boredom.

Frido hadn't seen you, or heard from you since the friendly. She hadn't been allowed in your hospital room when they kept you overnight for observation, nor had she tried to visit you as you stayed with Alexia. Part of her had been too afraid to ask her capitan if she could come over. And you weren't allowed any screens, so texting was a no-go.

Ingrid, Mapí, and Pina all came rushing towards you, slowing once they were near your pitiful form.

"How are you feeling, bebita?" Mapí asked softly, putting a hand on your shoulder.

"Like shit," you mumbled, giving her a grin.

"With the way your head bounced, it's a miracle it's still attached!" Pina joked in a whispered tone, prompting a smack on the arm from Alexia.

You chuckled, clearly not bothered.

Ingrid, who had been quiet until now, wrapped you in a soft hug. She was careful with your entire upper half though she didn't need to be. You returned her embrace, looping your arms over her shoulders.

"Are you sure you're alright?" She mumbled to you.

You nodded, patting her cheek as she pulled away.

After that Alexia declared that you were going to sit in the shade and were not to be bothered, a glance thrown specifically at Patri and Pina. The rest of the team nodded, giving you quick smiles and thumbs up. Frido continued to stand awkwardly on the side, not sure what the best thing to do was. Would you even want to talk to her? Probably not.

Alexia walked you over to the bench and gave you water and some ear plugs to quiet the noise of the field. Unfortunately you couldn't really do much, no reading or phones allowed. All you could really do was sleep, which you did not long after, lulled by the warm air and low sounds of your teammates playing.

You didn't wake up until about an hour later. You were hot in your light jacket, so you shucked it off and gently sat up. Your sunglasses made it so your head didn't hurt too badly. Caro noticed you were awake and waved at you. You waved back, sending her a smile.

Alexia had mentioned that everyone sent messages of well wishes, not only your Barça teammates but your German teammates, and even a few from the Swedish team. You couldn't use your phone to see them, but Alexia had read them to you one by one. It was a little overwhelming, the support. Even players you had only interacted with a few times had reached out to check in.

"Hola cari" Patri said, flopping herself down next to you. It was a water break, and you could see the team dispersing to grab their bottles from their bags.

"Hola, Patri."

"Here," Patri shifted so she was sitting up, and patted her lap for you to put your head in. "How do you feel? Is it okay if I talk in Spanish or is English better for your head?"

"How about German?" You joked, prompting a large smile from Patri.

"Hallo?" She said, her Spanish accent laughably thick. You patted her leg fondly.

"Spanish is okay. It doesn't hurt my head anymore than a different language."

Patri began to stroke your hair as the two of you caught up. You learned that she had fought hard to get you to stay with her even though she only had one bed (the couch was a perfectly fine alternative for her, she had tried to tell Alexia), and that she was going to the coast during the next break with her family. You told her about seeing your family in Germany before the match, and how big your niece had gotten. Before long, another presence joined you.

"Hi," Caro's soft voice called.

She crouched down in front of you two, giving a faint smile.

"Do you need anything? Did you bring anything to eat?"

You shook your head, and Caro disappeared for a moment. When she returned, there was a bag of crackers in her hand, and a banana.

"I also found this at the supermarket."

She pulled out a packet of cookies, a German brand that you loved as a kid.

"I remembered seeing them when I was playing at Wolfsburg all the time…I figured since you're from around there maybe you knew them?"

You took them from her and held her hand, squeezing it in thanks. It brought tears to your eyes.

"I loved these when I was little… thank you Caro."

Caro smiled at you, taking a seat on the grass across from you and eating quietly. The Norwegian wasn't much of a talker, but she showed her affection just by hanging around.

"Here," she offered some of her water, realizing you had run out.

You took the bottle hesitantly, but Caro was firm.

"Drink, it will help your head."

Soon it was time for everyone to get back on the pitch, and you were left alone again. You put on a podcast through your headphones, passing the time as best you could.

The podcast served mainly as background as you watched your teammates train. It was hot today, and you could see everyone having to work a little harder to keep up. Your eyes fell to Frido naturally, even though you wished it weren't the case. She was partnered with Aitana doing passing drills. Her form was near perfect, you were jealous of her impeccable footwork. She looked beautiful: her hair was done up in a bun, her legs were glowing in the sun, and the muscles in her arm rippled as she picked up her water bottle to get a quick drink. It was disappointing that you still wanted her, even after all of this. Maybe something was wrong with you.

Later, as you waited for Alexia to finish with some promo stuff, Ingrid wandered over to keep you company. Mapí must have been getting a little extra physio time since she had only just been cleared after her injury.

"Can I sit?" She asked you, gesturing to the spot where you sat on the field.

You nodded and smiled, pulling your headphones out.

"How are you feeling?"

You shrugged.

"It's not so bad now, just like a regular headache. They gave me some medication but I'd rather not…"

Ingrid rubbed your shoulder, pulling you a little closer to her.

"You gave us quite the scare."

"Don't tell me you watched the video." You shifted to look her in the eye. "I know it freaks you out, makes you paranoid."

Ingrid smoothed the crease between your eyebrows with her thumb.

"Don't worry about me. Now is the time for us all to fret over you."

You huffed and rolled your eyes, wincing as it hurt your head.

After chatting for a little while Ingrid began braiding your hair into the intricate patterns she had learned to do as a kid. She took care not to pull at your scalp too much, and the gentle motion of her fingers felt lovely on your head. You were more relaxed than you had been in months.

"Has Frido said anything to you?" Ingrid finally asked after a stretch of silence.

You raised your eyebrows, surprised at the question.

"No, we haven't spoken since before we went on international break."

Ingrid paused, but didn't press. You felt her desire to do so, however. You wondered if Frido had spoken to her at all.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

The Pathology Murders

Summary: When the reader and the boys stumble across a gruesome scene, they get the feeling that the monster they're hunting is of the human variety...

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 5,800ish

Warnings: language, angst, lots of mentions of gore/death, trauma, accident, fluff

A/N: This fic was inspired by this imagine (which makes an appearance in this one shot) and also by the horror movie Pathology!

________

“What the hell…” Dean and Sam looked around the abandoned house, pausing like you had when they got to the kitchen. Your boys weren’t wimps by any means. They’d seen some serious crap. Done some serious crap. But that kitchen? 

It took Sam all of three seconds to step out of the room and upheave his greek salad from lunch.

Meanwhile Dean took it all in before his eyes landed on where you were trying to work the scene, fighting back another dry heave. 

“You alright?” he asked. You knew he was concerned. You weren’t one to puke up your guts either. But the poor soul on the kitchen table, or rather what was left of him…twisted wasn’t even the right word for it.

“Not particularly,” you said, pointing at a glass jar that housed a pair of kidneys on the stove. “Not all the organs made it into jars. Pretty sure the liver is in the sink.”

Dean cautiously took a step inside, swallowing thickly. Unlike you or Sam, who had your own experiences with hell, Dean’s had been far more…interactive. Sam’s soul was battered around by Lucifer but it’d been more psychological than physical. You’d spent an unpleasant night with a hellhound in the same cage and while it hadn’t been fun, you’d been able to stay in a corner and out of harms way. Dean though…Dean had been sliced and diced and hacked and every other possible horror, imaginable or not. And then he’d performed the acts himself. You never blamed him for giving in, for breaking. You’d told him time and time again he was, and always would be, a good man.

Some days, more often lately it seemed the older he got, he seemed to believe you.

“Whoever did this performed an autopsy on this guy. While he was alive,” said Dean, leaning over the body to get a closer look. “Huh. Anybody see a heart around here?”

You surveyed the bloody room, finding more than a few peculiar shaped body parts but nothing resembling a heart. Sam finally made his way in, taking a deep inhale as he got used to the gore before him. “I got nothing over here.”

“Could be a werewolf,” said Dean, cocking his head as he straightened, brow furrowing. “Or a witch.”

You knew he wasn’t buying that though, neither of you were. You tore your eyes away from the search to watch Sam’s expression flare up with a strange look of familiarity. “Sammy?”

“I think a person did this,” he said. Dean rolled his eyes.

“No shit Sherlock. Someone used a knife or-”

“No, jackass,” said Sam, shooting Dean a harsh look for a brief second. “I mean I think this was a human, like an actual human. They were just talking about a cold case like this on a podcast I listened to during my run last week.”

“You and your fucking serial killer obsession,” muttered Dean. Sam’s eye twitched, the tension rising in the room. “It’s fucking weird, Sammy.”

“We hunt monsters, dumbass. How is that any different?”

“That’s our job. You don’t see me watching murder documentaries like a certain someone in my free time.” Sam got closer to Dean, Dean taking one to match, both boy’s jaws clenching. 

“Hey,” you said with a snap of your fingers, the pair reluctantly turning towards you. “Dean, plenty of people are interested in cold cases and as long as Sam isn’t a serial killer himself, his hobby is fine. Sam, Dean just gets concerned that you don’t take enough of a break from hunting but he can’t come out and say that. So hug and make up. You’re on the same side.”

They both grumbled and gave each other a half-assed embraced but it made you smile regardless. 

“So what’d your murder podcast say?” asked Dean, walking around to the other side of the cut open body. Sam’s face soured. “That good, huh?”

“They called them the Pathology Murders. A string of five victims about ten years ago that went unsolved. The killer performed live autopsies like you said about this guy earlier. The only lead they ever had was that the killer must have medical training, like a doctor, based on what they did to the victims. Oh, and all the murders took place in the Seattle area.”

“Which downtown is only twenty minutes from here,” you said, crossing your arms. “Was the heart missing at the other scenes?”

“I’m not sure. They could have skimmed over that,” said Sam. Your gaze followed Dean’s, his green eyes laced with uncertainty. “I can do some research back at the motel. You guys could check in with Seattle PD, see if the case files have anything useful.”

“We should double check that it’s not our kind of monster and if it really is a person-”

“We’re not working this case,” said Dean. Your eyebrows shot up, Sam’s face already frowning. “We do not investigate serial killers. Save it for the police.”

“Uh, what the hell is going on? You would never let a killer, monster or human, stay on the loose,” said Sam.

Dean’s gaze shot to you and quickly away, his eyes turning sharp as they zeroed in on Sam. You scoffed, Sam cocking his head in question.

“It’s because my mom was murdered. By a serial killer. Isn’t it, Dean?” Dean’s lips pressed into a thin hard line and you shook your head. “They caught her killer which you know. What does that have anything to do with-”

“You caught the killer, you did that,” said Dean, Sam completely lost. He knew your mom had been killed but not the gory details like Dean.

“Wouldn’t that be a good thing then?” he asked. “Y/N has experience with this sort of thing then.”

“Why don’t you explain to Sammy just exactly what you did to ‘catch’ her killer then, sweetheart. Go on. I’m sure he’d love to hear it.” You glared at Dean, feeling an unpleasant prickling in your eyes. Dean didn’t back down as you teared up though, instead focusing on Sam. “She let herself be bait. She let herself get caught by the son of a bitch. She almost died because she doesn’t see when she’s going too far with serial killers. The same thing happened on that Tulsa case five years ago.”

You could sense Sam had shifted very quickly to being on Dean’s side of this argument. You’d been young and reckless with your mom’s killer, barely a day over eighteen. That was years and years ago. You’d learned since then to use more sense. Tulsa…well your plan as being bait would have worked if your former hunting partner hadn’t been more focused on getting some ass that night than watching your back.

“Yeah, that’s how we met, Sam. Not working a case. No, Y/N was fucked and if I hadn’t been driving back from Jody’s that night and saw the fucking asshole grab her, she’d be dead. Wouldn’t you?” Dean snarled. You narrowed your misty eyes at him, Dean lifting his chin. “We will make sure this isn’t our kind of deal and if it is in fact a run of the mill serial killer, we are getting the fuck out of here, understand me?”

“I fucked up once. Once,” you breathed out. You swallowed thickly, wiping off your face with your jacket sleeve. “Just how many times have you been kidnapped Dean in the five years that I’ve known you? I’ve been taken once. You? How many times have I cut you loose? Taken out the monster with a knife to your throat? A gun to your head? How many times have you gotten lost in a case? Gone on a rampage? I never realized we were keeping score.”

Dean’s gaze fell to the floor, his hand running over his jaw, searching for the right words.

“Sam, go back to the motel and research. Dean and I’ll do the fed schitk and get the files we can. Whoever’s behind this, I’m going after them. You two can do whatever the hell you want,” you said, storming out of the room and out of the house.

“You look pretty,” said Dean softly a few hours later as you exited the motel bathroom in your fed suit, a light blue button down blouse with your charcoal gray suit jacket and pants. You ignored him as you dug through your duffel for your pointed black booties. Professional but also you knew for a fact you could run and fight in them. You growled in frustration when you couldn’t find them though, hearing Dean clear his throat behind your back. You glanced over your shoulder, following Dean’s gaze to where he’d set them down by the end of the bed.

“Thanks,” you grumbled, slipping them on and pulling up the side zipper. Dean was sporting his navy suit today, the one he looked extra hot in. You ignored that fact as you tucked your gun into the back of your pants, fixing your suit jacket over it.

“Y/N.” You sighed, giving him a look that you really didn’t want to do this right now. He took a long breath, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Sam quietly slinked out of the room into his adjoining one. Most of the time the three of you shared but when you could swing it, Sam got his own next door to give you and Dean some privacy.

Privacy you didn’t necessarily want at this moment.

“You do good cop, I’ll be the hardass if it comes to it,” you said, shoving your phone in your pocket. You tried to walk past him for the door but he caught your hand, stopping you after a few feet. “Dean.”

“I do not, and have never, thought you were weak. But serial killers are a blindspot for you. Sam and I both have them. This is yours.” He lowered his head, like he was fighting the words that were coming out. 

To your surprise, he dropped your hand and stood. 

“Be careful on this one, sweetheart.” He walked past you to the motel door, cracking it open and pausing. “We should get going.”

“You sure I’m not going to lose it? Get too carried away and get myself captured?” you said, unable to stop from poking back after his earlier insinuations. Dean’s shoulders rose and fell, one hand going to the doorframe to grip it as you watched the back of his head lower.

“Y/N, don’t you know by now I’m an idiot that’d rather lose you because I’m a dick than find you in the hands of some monster like whoever did that to that poor guy? Don’t you know I know you’re stronger than me? Don’t you think I realize how hard it is to be with someone like me?”

“You don’t stop Sam from doing dangerous things,” you said. “You don’t bring up the past to him.”

“Yes I have,” he said quietly. “And convincing Sam to stay in a motel room where it’s safe to research has never been hard thankfully.”

“You don’t treat me with the same respect though,” you said softly. “It hurts to know you never will think of me as being as capable as he is all because I’m your girlfriend.”

Dean shook his head, straightening his back. “You are more than capable, sweetheart. But sometimes…I just want to be a man that protects his girl. I don’t want to be scared of failing you for once…because if that monster got anywhere near you…”

You took quiet steps over to him, staring at his broad shoulders as they sagged.

“Eventually everyone I love dies or has something awful happen to them. Maybe I don’t say it the right way but fucking hell, all I want is for those things to not happen to you.” He spun around, green eyes full of worry. You nodded, taking his hand and lacing your fingers together. He squeezed them gently, the warmth of it pleasant.

“Our job is dangerous, Dean. We hunt the monsters, supernatural or not. I love you but you don’t get to keep me locked away.” You ran your thumb over his scuffed up skin, still healing form last week’s hunt. “That said…I promise not to get so angry if you promise to just say you’re scared for me. We’ll figure it out, okay?”

“Okay,” he said, a flicker of a smile on his face. “I just have a bad feeling about this one.”

“Then we’ll be smart, okay?” You leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “And don’t call yourself an idiot. I don’t like it.”

“Okay, sweetheart,” he said. “Let’s go figure out what the hell is going on.”

Two Hours Later

“This guy’s a fucking psycho,” you said into your phone while Dean came outside with a bag of burgers and fries. “Apparently he sends the hearts to the victims families in a little box with a bow.”

“Sounds about right for a guy who cuts people open for fun,” said Sam on the other end. “I’m gonna pour through the records you just sent over.”

“Alright. Dean and I should be back in fifteen-”

“Why don’t you guys have a date night? I got this for a few hours.” You bit your bottom lip, Sam’s silence going on. “Come on, Y/N. You guys should talk about Dean’s protectiveness and your stubbornness.”

You wanted to argue that fact but sighed, closing your eyes.

“Any suggestions on how we find that line when our job is to hunt killers?” you asked.

“Maybe remember that he’s your boyfriend first, hunting partner second. Most boyfriends wouldn’t want their girlfriend near a serial killer either, no matter what their job.”

“Don’t have good points, Samuel,” you said as Dean took a seat next to you on Baby’s hood. “We’ll be back in two hours.”

You hung up and dove your hand into the bag of fries, smirking when Dean presented you with a chocolate milkshake. He grinned as you dipped the fry in it and tossed it back, giving him a big thumbs up.

“I love you,” you said, Dean smiling as he dug out his burger. “I always love you, even when we fight.”

He glanced at you, landing a gentle kiss on your lips in the next moment. He barely moved his lips, letting them linger instead. He moved back only an inch and nodded. “I was a dickhead earlier. All because I’m afraid of finding you with a serial killer standing over you with a giant ass knife again. I don’t know why I can’t just come out and say that shit in the moment.”

“Because you’re human,” you said, wrapping an arm around his waist. “And you’re so much better at talking to me than five years ago. The old you wouldn’t have even been able to say that to me.”

“I try,” he said, letting you kiss him, your own a tad more forceful than his had been.

“That’s all I ask for,” you said, Dean’s phone going off at that exact moment. He sighed as he took it out, Sam’s name appearing. He tapped it onto speaker and took a bite of his burger. “What’s up Sammy?”

“Guys, I think I figured something out. All the victims were patients at Mercy West hospital back in the day and this latest guy? He was a patient there last week.” You and Dean shared a frown. “Yeah, I know. The cops investigated all of the hospital staff there back then but they never came up with anything. They thought maybe a doctor was behind it but he died in a car accident between the second and third vics.”

“It could have been him and he had a partner. Definitely is someone with access to records so they have to work there,” said Dean as you held up a finger. “What?”

“I could have sworn I’ve heard about this hospital in the news before. Something to do with a boat accident?” you asked. You heard Sam typing loudly before he hummed.

“Yup. They made national news about six months ago when seven of their medical students died in a boating accident. Explosion apparently when they got boozed up and had a bonfire on the boat. The bodies were so bad they couldn’t identify the remains,” said Sam. Dean took another bite of his burger and swallowed. “Already checking through the police files. Shit.”

“Shit what, Sam?” you asked, dunking a fry in your milkshake.

“Shit as in the boat accident wasn’t an accident at all. There was definitely an explosion but they found damage on the bodies indicating some injuries occurred before death. Like being carved up alive. They don’t want the public knowing the killer is still active in the area.”

“It’s gotta be someone linked to that hospital. Only question is why can’t the police figure out who?” asked Dean.

“Good question,” said Sam. “I’m going to keep digging, see if there’s a connection between the two we missed.”

“Thanks Sammy. We’ll be back in twenty to help,” said Dean, hanging up. He glanced at you, biting the inside of his cheek.

“This isn’t a monster,” you said quietly. “At least, it’s a human one.”

Dean polished off the rest of his meal quietly, the air still for a few beats. 

“When you get too worried about me on hunts, you put yourself in danger,” you said, slowly sipping from the shake. His heated gaze was on you as you handed him the drink. “You have to trust that I’m strong enough to do this. Careful and capable. We both need to work on that.”

“Alright. But do me a favor? Stick close to me or Sammy on this one. You’re just…” You waited, let him find his words. He took the drink and finished it off, shoving the trash in the bag. “You just got over that shoulder injury. Your punches don’t hit as hard as normal right now. I don’t mean that in a bad way, just-”

“Okay,” you said, finding his hand, slipping yours inside. “Now let’s figure out who this bastard is.”

He hummed, letting go of you for a brief moment so he could toss the garbage away. You slid inside the passenger seat, Dean back and behind the wheel after the blink of an eye. Approximately ten seconds later you were pulling out of the parking lot and on the road, headed down main street and for the motel.

“So I was thinking this guy does autopsies on victims right?” said Dean, turning the radio down low on a soft rock station. You glanced out the window on the dark night, a rumble of thunder overhead. “But the cops can’t find him. Well, isn’t there someone that sometimes works at hospitals and for the police that would be able to fuck with a body after the fact and hide traces of their involvement?”

“A pathologist. I was thinking that too but wouldn’t that have been their first look? I mean they literally call them the Pathology Murders,” you said, waiting for the the light to turn green. “It could be someone that knows someone at the department covering for them. Stranger things have happened.”

“Maybe. I get the gist this guy works alone though. I only clocked one set of boots at the scene this morning,” he said, the bright green light illuminating the dark interior.

“Same. It’s absolutely someone associated with that damn hospital-” you said, Dean’s arm shooting in front of you in your peripheral. A millisecond later, something slammed into the right side of Baby, your side. Your lap belt tugged on you hard as your body lolled to the side, weightless for a moment before gravity reared it’s ugly head and slammed you down. Your head smacked something hard and it all went dark.

You could hear Dean asking a paramedic a million questions, not a single one concerned about himself. You opened your eyes to find yourself in the back of an ambulance, Dean lying on a stretcher beside you. He could tell you were awake and struggled to reach over to you but couldn’t. Instead he thrashed his head back against his pillow in defeat, straining against the straps that held him down.

“Sir, I need you to calm down,” said the paramedic as you blinked slowly at Dean. You knew something was wrong with you, with both of you, but you weren’t quite sure what that was yet. You struggled when you saw Dean upset. You wanted him to feel better. “You need to relax, she’s seeing you panic and that’s making her do the same.”

Dean stopped as he took in how your heart rate had skyrocketed, how scared you looked. He sighed and forced himself to stay calm. You saw him relax and heard him say it was okay. Neither of you enjoyed the feeling of being tied down, especially when the both of you were in plain view of one another and couldn’t reach each other. You tried to speak but couldn’t as you felt how raw your throat was. 

“We’ll be at Mercy West in just a few minutes,” said the paramedic to Dean as you half-listened. 

“No, take us somewhere else!” yelled Dean suddenly, fighting again. The paramedic sighed as you both started struggling once more. You didn’t have much of an idea of what was going on but if Dean didn’t want to go there, it wasn’t safe. 

“I’m going to give each of you a sedative and by the time you wake up, you’ll be in your hospital beds feeling a lot better,” he said gently. 

“No, don’t you touch her,” said Dean as you started to get very sleepy. The last thing you saw was Dean shutting his eyes as you finally remembered what had happened.

If Sam didn’t get to you soon, you were screwed.

Your eyes wearily opened under bright lights that made your head hurt. You winced and turned away from it, limbs heavy and still. Dean’s voice echoed somewhere, to your left maybe? You forced your eyes open again, Dean strapped down to a metal table with metal drawers behind him, the look on his face like he was screaming at you. You blinked, the ringing in your eyes loud and obnoxious, droning him out.

“Get up, fucking get up!” Dean shouted so loud you shook your head, a splitting headache cracking over you. “Y/N get out of here!” 

It took only a moment to discover that unlike Dean, you weren’t restrained in what was most likely the hospital morgue. Something was wrong though. A sedative? No. You were becoming more alert if anything but your arms were growing more tired, head becoming too heavy to lift.

“Something’s off,” you tried to say, the words caught in your throat, unable to be voiced. Your eyes flared wide, Dean’s drifting past you.

“Someone took a long time to wake up,” said a voice to your right. Suddenly a hand was under your head.

“Don’t you fucking touch her!” Dean snarled, your head set on a…stand? Something to keep it elevated and from rolling to the side. You tried to move but the message wasn’t getting to your body, your eyes glued on the handsome face with a just slightly off smile leaning over you.

“You were in a nasty accident, Agent Carlson. Unfortunately for you, your head trauma was too severe and you coded in the ER. Meanwhile Agent Manns in his grief unfortunately succumbed to his injuries. At least that’s what the autopsy report will say,” he said, inspecting what felt like a cut on your temple. “Such a shame. It won’t be my best work but you’re not the first law enforcement to cross me. Sadly no one will be able to discover your remains once you’re accidentally incinerated as John and Jane Doe but it’s good practice.”

“Let her go you fucking psycho,” growled Dean when the doctor moved out of view and returned with a pair of shears. 

“Psycho? I’m Dr. Thomas, ER Trauma physician and part-time pathologist. I’ve saved far more lives than I’ve taken, Agent Manns,” he said, snipping through your blouse. 

“What the fuck did you do to her?” Dr. Thomas bagged your shirt in a plastic bag nearby, doing the same with your pants and boots once they’d been removed.

“Paralyzing agent. Hard to come by but it has it’s advantages. No messy straps or ropes in the way,” he said, lifting your arm as you watched helplessly, cold metal against your skin as he cut through your bra straps.

“I swear to god I’m going to rip your spine out of your fucking face. If you touch her-”

“Not my style,” said Dr. Thomas, pulling away the fabric, sending a chill down your back. He gave you his focus again, a smirk on his face as he put two fingers to your neck. “Your heart is hammering away, isn’t it? Biology is fascinating that way. It’s so strange how an emotion such as fear can cause physical reactions in our bodies.”

“Get the fuck away from her!” shouted Dean. Dr. Thomas’ smile towards you dropped when he looked at Dean. He sighed and set the shears down, walking out of view.

“You’re really starting to irritate me,” he said, the distinct sound of tape being ripped from a roll filling the room and then Dean’s cries became muffled, only quiet thumping as he struggled coming from him now. Dr. Thomas appeared again wearing another smile. “Sorry about that. It’s always the men that get all squirmy. The women always live longer. Now, one could argue that’s because women have on average more blood in their bodies than men but I’ve gotten a fairly large sample size over the past decade to believe they’re psychologically stronger and therefore last longer.”

You tried hard to move your hand when he held up a scalpel near your face but nothing worked. 

Fuck if you could move anything you’d be shaking harder than a tree in a damn hurricane. Dean struggling right beside you with a front row seat was not helping.

“Now I like to explain all of my procedures to my patients beforehand. While you are paralyzed to a degree, you will still feel things. That’s perfectly normal.” You were wide eyed, Dr. Thomas chuckling. “The procedure typically takes me around thirty minutes. However, you’ll die from the blood loss or shock after roughly seven so don’t worry about that aspect. Considering you were in an accident less than an hour ago, I suspect it’s more like four or five for you which is unfortunate for me but it is what it is. Perhaps Agent Manns will give me more time.”

He lowered the scalpel to your shoulder and dug in hard to the skin, dragging it inward towards your chest. Your scream was caught in your throat as he did it on the other side to match.

Dean was shouting and thrashing on the table beside you but you couldn’t even turn your head to look. Dr. Thomas started talking about incisions and procedures and then you felt something completely unnatural against your arm, another shout trapped in your lungs. Forget the brave face. You would have been full on wailing if you were capable of it.

Crack. Snap. Shudder. Rip. It was around the time that Dr. Thomas held up something dark red and sticky looking that your body decided passing out was the best course of action. Unfortunately, it wasn’t doing that for some reason and you were stuck on the edge of consciousness, terrified and wishing something would come along and smash your head in to end this.

A loud bang shot out and something heavy smacked your leg, something else skirting against your side. 

“Dear god,” whispered Sam. Your eyes were locked open as you heard Sam rush over, staring down at you for only a split second before he moved to Dean. 

That was not good. You were far more injured that Dean, somewhere on the verge of death if you figured. Sam would have stopped to help you first.

Unless you were beyond saving.

“Sweetheart,” said Dean, grabbing one of your blood covered hands in both of his. Fuck he was crying. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You were so totally fucked. He looked over to Sam, Sam staring back with an open mouth. They couldn’t fix this. Shit, shit. You were going to die cut open like a Thanksgiving turkey. “W-What about Cas?”

“Dean,” said Sam, an air of resignation in his voice. “He’s in Kansas.”

“Jack then.”

“He’s with Cas. He doesn’t know how to-”

“A spell, a cure, something! Take her upstairs to a fucking doctor!” shouted Dean. 

“De. Half of her organs are…” said Sam as you got light headed, Dean’s hand running over your head. Dean found your face, his chin wobbling. “I-I don’t know what to do.”

“Then we sit with our girl,” said Dean softly, tucking a hair behind your ear. “And you fall asleep, sweetheart and when you wake up again, you’ll feel all better. I’ll come find you someday. Okay? Just close your eyes and try to sleep for me.”

Dean lowered his head, kissing your forehead as he fought back the tears that wanted to spill over. Sam took your other hand, squeezing it gently as you tried to do what he asked.

“Bloody hell, of course a Winchester took out a nutter like that. I’d have thunk he deserved more than a bullet,” said a familiar voice. 

“Rowena?” both boys echoed. She didn’t respond though, Sam’s hand dropping yours as a flash of red hair moved in front of you. You stared up at her, her hands cradling your cheeks.

“Dean, let go.” He did and about two seconds later you were shot straight upright, body in one piece, full of feeling and horror as you wrapped your arms over your chest, looking all around. 

“What the hell was that?” asked Sam while Dean shrugged out of his fed jacket and wrapped it around your shoulders, buttoning you up before he picked you up and was cradling you in his arms.

Rowena faced him with a hand on her hip, your own gaze falling down to where a dead Dr. Thomas lay on the floor, blood oozing from the back of his open head.

“Do you boys still not see me as a friend?” she asked, an undercurrent of hurt in her voice. You were shaking in Dean’s arms, clutching to his shirt with your too long sleeves. 

“You’re the queen of hell. Why would you stop a death?” asked Sam. She rolled her eyes and approached you, resting a hand on your arm.

“Because I’m the queen of hell and I do as I please, Samuel.” You wanted to say thank you but all you could manage was a few jumbled words as you buried yourself in Dean’s neck. “She’s in shock, quite bad. Best to take her home and let her rest.”

“Thank you Rowena,” said Dean, walking past her, stopping near the entrance to the room. “Next time you need something, just let us know and we’ll help.”

“Of course. I’ll take care of this mess. Oh and Y/N, dear?” You managed to lift your head, grateful to find Sam was right on Dean’s heels. “This lad is going to be spending a lot of time on the receiving end of what he gave out up here down in hell. I promise you that.”

You nodded, giving her a thumbs up. Dean kissed the top of your head, his hold on you tight.

“You’re going to be alright, sweetheart. Just give it some time.”

“How’s that feel?” asked Dean for what felt like the twentieth time back at the motel. You’d showered, took another another shower, took a bath, took another shower and currently were wrapped up in a mess of Dean’s pajamas on the bed with a big towel in your hair. 

“Better,” you said, your voice back with you once you’d gotten out of the hospital morgue. Sam was off relaying what he’d found to the local police. Apparently Dr. Thomas had worked on a few cases for the county but his sister it turned out was a hot shot detective who’d been covering for him for years. It was how he’d found out about you and Dean investigating.

Honestly that woman would be better off going out like her brother. She’d covered up a lot of murders for her brother. It’d be a miracle if someone didn’t take her out before then. Not that you particularly would mind that. 

You patted the bed beside you, Dean taking a seat and pulling you into his lap. He removed the damp towel and nuzzled the top of your head with his cheek, strong arms wrapped all around your body.

“So we really nailed that whole careful thing, huh?” you said. Dean chuckled deeply, inhaling the scent of your damp hair, a pretty lilac and vanilla blend you knew he liked. 

“How do you do that? Make me laugh when I don’t feel like ever laughing again,” he said, tightening his hold.

“Because I’m hilarious,” you said, closing your eyes, wrapping your hands around his forearms. “You might not understand this but what you said when I thought…you made me feel safe even when I was scared that was it. You were a guy protecting his girl tonight, even if it’s not the way you meant it.”

“Meant every word,” he whispered, breathing slowly. 

“Don’t you dare fucking apologize for not stopping it. There’s no way we saw that coming.”

“Okay,” he said, draping his legs over yours, leaning back against the headboard with you. “How’s that feel? Comfy?”

You smiled as you rolled your eyes at him, tucking in closer. “I got you, Winchester. I’ll be alright. A chocolate milkshake and order of fries wouldn’t hurt though.”

“You’re hungry? After all that?” he chuckled. 

“Yup. Ask Sam to pick some up on his way back,” you said, tilting your head back, kissing under his jaw. “Our date got cut short after all.”

“Are you sure you’re okay? You couldn’t talk earlier,” he said, taking your hand, lacing your fingers together.

“I’ll have nightmares, I’m sure, and all the other crap we get. But right now in this moment, with you, I’m okay.” He smiled, holding your body against his.

“I love you so much. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. Even if you do get kidnapped by serial killers.” You whacked his leg, Dean’s laugh rumbling against your back.

“Love you too, ya dork.”

_________

[cvpidzcvrse]

Nah, I'm Better.

divider by @cafekitsune

✦A/N: OK! this took longer than expected but LISTEN! I'm here now and probably will be dropping more frequently (hopefully). Reader is also a slut I mean she could talk me through it and I'd let her. But I tried to eat down as much as possible for this fic so the girlies and the gays wouldn't starve. Gojo is driving my dream car, a girl can only imagine.

⋆.ೃ࿔*･Synopsis: You and Satoru have been best friends since elementary school. By the time you both made it to college he’s hated every single partner you’ve ever had. Your recent ex isn’t any different, but he’s doing something about it this time.

⋆.ೃ࿔*･wc: 2,887

⋆.ೃ࿔*Warnings: best friends to lovers, praise, car sex, arguments (ish), cowgirl, choking, handjob, p in v, no protection, finishing inside (practice safe sex)

(the reader is black)

If you had a dollar for every time you and Satoru got mistaken for a couple you’d be rich, not richer than him. He loves it when people mistake him for your boyfriend. It’s the ego boost he doesn’t need. He’s liked you for a while but you always shut him down. Either for another guy or because you see him as just a “friend”. You knew that was a lie, you didn’t want to ruin the friendship between you guys. So to buried your feelings for Satoru and used other men as a distraction. Fuck buddies, friends with benefits, sugar daddies, you name it. Nothing was ever successful; it always ended in heartbreak or fights. Satoru hated that you went for men who were lower than your standard.

He hated that you didn’t go for him. That’s part of the reason why he’s parked outside a fancy restaurant waiting for you to walk out.  

You thought this guy was the one, you’d been talking for a couple weeks, going on dates, even fucked a few times. But no people always have to ruin it, it was fun while it lasted. Mahito was a guy you met off of Tinder. He was nice, sweet, and probably the realest guy you’ve ever met. That was until date number four when he brought up his love for podcasts. Specifically a podcast by the name ‘Fresh and Fit’, you know the podcast that goes around and hates on women for a check. 

What a loser…

After learning that information you left the date immediately. Leaving him with a “Get a life, nigga.” before quickly walking out of the restaurant. The cold drizzle of rain calms your nerves as you heave out a soft sigh. Your eyes meet a familiar and sleek all-black Ford Bronco. An air of comfort travels throughout your body. You haven’t been this excited to see Satoru since…ever. He’s already looking in your direction with his cheeky smile, flashing you his pearly white teeth. He’s always been handsome, your whole life was spent watching girls and even guys swoon over him. You can’t even remember if he accepted any of the advances, you don’t even think he’s had a girlfriend that you know of.

His jagged blue eyes met your dark brown ones and it’s like a firework went off in front of you. Your waist-length knotless braids, glossy plump lips, and warm brown skin have him in a chokehold. The way your honey-glazed skin complimented your outfit made him want to rip it off right there. Luckily his windows are tinted enough to hide his very noticeable lustful gaze, but you felt his eyes burning holes into your head. With a visible frown on your face, you swiftly open the car door. You come face to face with Satoru’s fuck boy grin, you almost melt on the spot.

“When I said ‘call me for emergencies.’ It didn’t include shitty dates.”

You roll your eyes before playfully punching his arm. Satoru speeds out of the parking lot before you can even put your seatbelt on. Your back hits the seat roughly before you send a glare Satoru’s way.

“Chill out, nigga damn. You didn’t even hear how the date went and you’re already mad.”

“I’m mad because you didn’t listen to me. I told you not to trust that fucking loser, now look at where we are.”

You could hear his eyes rolling before you saw it. He’s the leader of the sassy man apocalypse and he never denies it. You grimaced at the undeniable truth that he was right, and you knew it. You cross your arms over your chest and gaze out at the widow districting yourself with the scenery. 

“Hey…look at me.”

His light-hearted voice quickly melted in your ears like honey. He softly gripped your chin and turned your face to his. He analyzed your expression for a moment. Admiring your features, planning your future, imagining his cock inside of you. He’s quickly brought out of his thoughts when you playfully push his hand away. 

“Hands off, this makeup took time.”

He scuffs at your statement before looking back at the busy road. You analyze him for a while, taking in his features. Your thoughts are more innocent than his, and you hope it stays that way. 

“Listen…I’m sorry I didn’t listen. But, niggas man you don’t understand. They’re all so annoying.”

The more you think about your past rendezvous the more it turned into torture. Satoru knew about every failed date. He was always there to be a shoulder to cry on and a dick to ride if you asked him. He knows very well about your tragic love life, he doesn’t remember a successful relationship you’ve been in. He lectured you every time he picked you up from a bad date or situationship ending in ‘So, what are we?’. He wasn’t upset with you, he was more upset that you refused to see his obvious feelings for you. 

“This is just starting to get repetitive. (✧), This is just...nevermind”

He smacked his lips at the end of his statement. A habit he picked up from you after all of the years you two have spent together. His mouth opens to say something else but nothing comes out. He huffs and runs his hand through his hair, he’s frustrated by the current events.

“Don’t get an attitude with me. You think I want to date guys like this?”

Your accusatory tone makes his attention shift slightly from the road. He scans his brain for what to say. He doesn’t want to upset you anymore but he also didn’t want to sugarcoat anything. As a wannabe lover, he wants nothing but the best for you even if it means telling you a harsh reality. 

Your taste in men is shit. 

He doesn’t have enough fingers or toes to list off the amount of guys that hurt you in the past. Nanami was too formal for you, Toji was a bum that leeched off of you, Sukuna was an asshole, and Satoru would’ve killed Suguru if he even attempted to flirt with you. 

“No, you know what I mean. You deserve better than these dumbasses you go after.”

The venom in his voice is very noticeable. Satoru’s carefree nature is cracking under the stress of your love life. Your stubborn nature refuses to let you back down to him, especially when he’s like this. 

“Toru’ I can date and fuck who I want! I don’t need to be lectured by you. I understand that you care, but let me live my life.”

Your response almost sent Satoru out of the car. His eyes twitched in annoyance and his knuckles turned white from gripping the steering wheel. You watch the way his jaw tightened and his muscles flexed. It turned you on, a lot. As much as you hate to admit it, you looove making him mad. It was just the way his relaxed facade melted away when you threw careless sentences at him. His foot softly pressed on the brake when coming to a red light. He slowly shifted his body to face you, if looks could fuck he’d be fucking you right now. Just the thought of him bending you over the center console had your clit aching. 

“Do not say that, I will crash this car right now and kill us both.”

He glanced at you with a smirk trying to lighten the melancholy-stricken mood. You scuff at his childish antics.

“Oh my god, be for real-”

Ring…

Your phone buzzed in your purse, and your soon-to-be lecture got cut short. Your eyes widened when you saw the caller I.D. read ‘Mahito’. You let it ring for a few seconds before finally answering it. 

“Why are you calling me? I told you we were over.”

Satoru's ears perked when he heard the hostility in your voice. There was a snarky voice on the other end and they were loudly throwing a fit. His eyes analyzed your expression and the way your calmness was replaced with annoyance. 

“You don’t think I can do better than you?…You’re one goofy ass nigga, you know that?…Whatever, fuck you!”

You harshly shoved your phone into your purse and groaned. The awkward silence was almost tangible; you would have to cut it with a chainsaw. Mahito’s words circled in your head and it pissed you off more and more. Who does he think he is? You hum slightly when a very filthy idea comes to your mind. 

“Satoru, I need you to take me somewhere.”

｡.｡:∞♡*

“Why the fuck are we here? Please don’t tell me you’re about to do something stupid.”

Satoru’s tone is laced with worry and confusion. He has no clue why he was parked outside of Mahito’s house right now and he didn’t know why you wanted to come here. You give him a cheeky smile before unbuckling your seatbelt and slowly leaning over the center console. You’re incredibly close to Satoru’s face, your nose practically touching his. All you can do is stare sensually into his ice-blue eyes, but the sense of longing is undeniably visible. 

“What are you doing?”

His voice spills out lowly like silk touching your ears. You take in a breath before crashing your lips into his. He’s caught by surprise but that’s quickly replaced with lust. His veiny hands quickly trace every curve on your body and tangle his fingers in your braids. You pull away taking in the wonderful scenery that Satoru was turned into. His cheeks are flushed and his hair is messy. You both stare at each other in awe and affection. It’s like something was unlocked in the middle of this little plan of revenge. 

“Get in the back.”

You nod before watching him walk out and around as you climb in the back. He opens the back door and stares at you for a moment, taking in the way your skirt is hiked up and your shirt tousled around. He quickly gets in and closes the door, basically pouncing on you. His mouth attacks your neck quickly, leaving several bite marks and hickeys. Without breaking the kiss you roughly pushed him onto the car door behind him. He lets out a low groan and rests his hands on your waist. You reach down and fumble with his belt buckle before finally breaking the kiss and using your hands. 

“If you need help you could’ve just asked.”

“Shut up.”

He chokes out a gasp when you take his cock out of his boxers. You wrap your manicured hand around his big cock and slowly massage the length. You trace circles around his tip with your thumb. A low groan settles at the bottom of his throat as silence sighs escape his lips. He unscrewed his eyes to meet the brazen expression on your face. His chuckles and mixed moans are sending you over the edge. You reach down and caress your clit through your panties. Satoru doesn’t fall ignorant of this and quickly grabs your hand to stop the satisfying motion.

“Suck it, I want your mouth.”

He let out a low chuckle as you took his full length into your mouth. You let out a whine as the tip of his cock touched the back of your throat. Satoru’s head flew back in pleasure as his hand rested comfortably on top of your head. He can sense your greed from the way your tongue moves along his tip. He sighed out a moan and softly pushed your head down further. 

“F-fuck…you’re doing so well.”

He stifles a throaty moan with his free hand and laces his hands in your hair. You were quick to grab his wrist and yank his hand away. You trailed soft kisses up the length of his cock, from base to tip. 

“I wanna hear you, pretty boy. Let me hear you.”

Your voice was soothing and soft it probably could’ve put him to sleep if it weren’t for the current circumstances. He melted at your command and quickly left his hand to the side. You tease his leaking tip with your tongue before putting it all in your mouth again. His mouth goes agape as slutty moans spill out and his hands grip your hair tightly. The way your head is bobbing up and down on his cock has his mind going blank. His cock twitches in your mouth before he quickly shoves your head away.

“I don’t want to cum yet. C’mon get on top, ride what’s yours.”

You swiftly straddle his lap and he pushes your panties to the side. You wrap your arms around him as he slowly pushes you on his hard cock. You let a soft moan and tug at Satoru’s hair. He moans in response and pushes you down deeper.

“Shit…fuck me, c’mon.”

His mouth is hovering over your ear and his voice is low and seductive. You slowly start to rock your hips and grind on his cock. After adjusting to his size you messily start bouncing on his cock. Strings of curses spew out of his mouth and his grip on your waist gets tighter. 

“Like this baby? Mmph…you’re so big.”

The constant praise is making the blood rush to his face. He hides his blushing face in your shoulder and leaves several bite marks. The car windows turn foggy and the only thing illuminating the car is the moonlight. Satoru’s moans can probably be heard from blocks away. His hands are under your sweater groping and squeezing your plush breast. His fingers pull and twist at your nipples as your pace gets messy. 

“Give me your hand…”

His voice is carnal and vibrating in your ear. It makes your clit twitch and your tempo stagger. You untangle your hand from his hair and place your hand in his. He takes two of your fingers and places them in his mouth. He doesn’t break eye contact, he’s just looking at you like a meal waiting to be devoured. He slowly sucks them and swirls his tongue around them. The scene in front of you is so sensual and slow, you’ve never experienced something so intimate before. He slowly pulls your fingers out of his as a saliva trail is the only thing left behind.

“Play with your clit for me. I wanna watch while you bounce on my cock.”

His voice moves like velvet through your body. It’s like he’s talking right to your pussy and she’s answering very loudly. The moment your hand reaches your clit Satoru plunges his cock into you. His thrust gets more violent and his large cock attacks your cervix. Your head dips back in pleasure in the constant assault on your insides. 

He’s starting to unravel like a present. His strokes get messier, sweet liquid spilling everywhere, his moans getting louder and more frequent. His nail prints are embedded on your love handles and your thighs are a wet mess. 

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. C’mon baby you can do it.”

His pleading sends shivers down your spine. You’ve never seen him so desperate before, it was empowering that your pussy brought him down a few notches. His pussy drunk stare is intoxicating to look at. The way he’s looking at you with his eyes half-lidded with nothing but lust in them. There was something about the way he looked at you; it wasn't just lust. It was like you were a necessity to him, he needed you.

“Mmph…baby I’m ‘bouta cum!”

“Cum for me, you’d make me so proud. Cum on my cock princess.”

Satoru replaced your hand with his and traced circles on your clit. With his hand working its magic and his cock peppering kisses on your cervix sends you crazy. The car is rocking very noticeably but you could care less. Your climax crashes onto you like a ton of bricks. Your juices spill all over his thick cock and coat his length in a slippery mess. His warm and sticky ropes decorate your insides, leaving his pants soaked and a wet ring around the base of his cock.

“That’s it, I’m so proud of you baby.”

 He tenderly pulls out and holds you tight to him, taking in the moment. You rest your forehead on his shoulder, you both desperately trying to catch whatever air is left in your lungs. You hear Satoru chuckle slowly while tracing kisses on your neck. 

“What’s so funny? Did my pussy make you delirious or what?” 

He shakes his head and lifts your head softly and turns it towards the window. While swallowed by lust you didn’t notice Satoru rolled the window down. Mahito is staring in awe and anger; he looks like he is about to explode. Satoru’s chuckle turns into a full-blown cackle as he glances at Mahito, sending him that cheeky smile that you love so much. You join Satoru in his joyous laughter before reaching over and rolling up the window.

“At least my plan worked. Let’s do it again but this time with handcuffs.”