Objection! Part 7

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love Master list

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Part 15

Part 16

Part 17

Part 18

Part 19

Part 20 Finale

I Want To Ruin Our Friendship

eddie munson x fem!reader

1.6k word count

summary you've been friends with Eddie since you were 5 but discovered it was the love of your life. You want more with Eddie but don't know if he feels the same. Will you ruin the friendship to find out?

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings none

Note this is my first post on here so be nice. I haven't written anything in like 7 years so I'm pretty shitty. Unedited work ahead, written in one sitting if you don't like it then bite me. If you want more let me know and I'll keep going!

Part 2!

...

We had become fast friends, Eddie and I. He was the first kid my age I had seen when my mother had moved us to the tiny speck on the map that was Hawkins. I was  5 years old, and my parents had just divorced. My mother had decided that a move would be the best thing for us both. ‘A fresh start with new faces and opportunities,’ she said. Not that I cared at 5. All she could find was a caravan at the local caravan park. That is where I met Eddie. He lived in the caravan next to mine. He had burst out of his front door and leapt over the steps in pure excitement when he saw me.

“Edward Munson” He smiled, holding out his hand

“y/n y/l/n,” I smiled back

The rest, as they say, was history. Eddie and I joined at the hip from that day on. Even when, much to both our disappointment, my mother had purchased a lovely house in town just after my 12th birthday. Eddie teased me relentlessly for weeks, faining hurt over how I was ‘leaving the lowly peasants to live in your castle clad with luxury.’ Always the drama queen. We still saw each other at school during the week, and I would often bike to his trailer on the weekend, or he would come to my place so we could play D&D with our other friends. Then my teenage years hit, and something changed. It started just after my 14th birthday. I started viewing Eddie differently. He was still my best friend, but suddenly, even the slightest glimpse of him sent butterflies flying in my stomach. I had brought this up with my mother, careful not to let slip that it was Eddie that I was talking about. “Oh, your first crush, how cute,” my mother had squealed. A crush? On Eddie? I couldn’t believe it. It wasn’t possible. I wasn’t supposed to crush on my best friend, yet here I was 6 years on, still stuck on the same guy. Eddie freaking Munson. My mum had said I would get over my crush soon enough and be on to the next cute guy at school, but the days turned to weeks, the weeks to months and the months to years, and I was still stuck on Eddie. Every fibre of my being knew Eddie was my soulmate, but Eddie was a loose cannon. I knew he wouldn’t be able to settle for one chick. I tried dating other guys but didn’t feel anything for them. It got to the point where Eddie started keeping track of who I was with just to mock me with them later.

Gave my virginity to Steve Harrington and broke up a month later.

Had a short-lived relationship with Gareth.

Spent one night with Billy Hargrove, Hawkins’s resident bad boy.

Jason, Jonathan, Argyle, the list goes on. After yet another boring shift with Steve and Robin at Family Video, I came home to an empty house and a note from my mum on the fridge. Gone on a girl’s weekend with Joyce, left money in my room, enjoy! I wanted so bad to call Eddie and ask him to spend the weekend, but I convinced myself to call Robin instead.

“Hello, Buckley residence”, Robin answered

“Hay Robin, want to spend the weekend at my place? My mum went on some weekend away with Joyce” I cringed as I realised I had rambled a bit

“Hay y/n, I would love to, but I already made plans with Steve. Apparently, his dweeb friends want to break into Hawkins lab for some stupid reason.”

“Probably trying to play Ghostbusters again”, I chuckled

“No doubt, Steve wants to ensure they are safe.”

“Aw, is poor Mummy Steve panicked about his little babies.” I burst out laughing

“I will tell Steve you said that” Robin laughed along. “Why don’t you ask Eddie to stay with you?” Robin asked once we had calmed down

“Eddie has been seeing someone random chick and hasn’t really had time for me, you know?” I sighed

“Not from what Nancy said”

“What did Nancy say?” My stomach did a summer sault

“Nancy was dropping Mike at Max’s and saw Eddie tossing a chick and her stuff out of his trailer. Apparently, he looked pretty pissed.”

“Still, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Come on, y/n, if this is to do with you crushing on Eddie, then you need to suck it up and tell the man already.”

“I’m tired. I think I’m going to go change and go to bed, okay” I said quickly, changing the topic

“Whatever, but you can’t get all butt hurt when he moves on to the next girl”, Robin blurted out before I hung up the phone.

Sighing, I dragged myself up the stairs and to my room. I pulled off my work uniform, tossing it into the corner before retrieving an oversized Van Halen shirt and shorts from the cupboard. I then sat staring at my phone, thinking about everything Robin said. Before I could stop myself, I had my phone in hand, and Eddie’s number was dialled. I panicked when Eddie answered.

“Hello,” Eddie said, clearly frustrated

“Hay Eddie, sorry your clearly busy I’ll just let you be”, I mumbled out, going to hang up

“No, y/n, wait, it’s good to hear your voice” I could hear the smile in his voice. “I was starting to think you have forgotten all about me, the lowly peasant in his humble trailer.”

“Well, I have not, lowly peasant. I was actually calling to summon thee to my castle of luxury for the weekend if you wanted to; that is,” I giggled

“Wait, really? But what about your mum?” Eddie asked shocked

“She went for the weekend, and you know I hate being alone.”

“Say no more, sweetheart, for your knight in shining armour is on his way in his noble steed once I find the keys.” I could help but giggle more

“See you when you get here” I smiled

As soon as the phone hung up, I immediately became bored and panicked. I was going to spend the weekend here with Eddie. Multiple scenarios started to play through my head. What if he hadn’t broken up with his girlfriend, and she found out he stayed here? What if I let it slip that I like him more than a friend should, and he doesn’t feel the same way? Would it ruin our friendship? Rather than continue to panic, I opted to grab my guitar and work on a new song hoping it would keep me distracted until Eddie got here.

Eddie, darling, you’re my best friend,

But there are a few things that you don’t know of,

Why I borrow your jacket so often,

I’m using your shirt as a pillowcase

I wanna ruin our friendship,

We should be lovers instead,

I don’t know how to say this,

‘cause your really my dearest friend

A knock at the front door pulled me out of my thoughts. I dropped my guitar on my bed and dashed down the stairs. I tore open the front door and tossed myself at Eddie. He chuckled, catching me in his arms with ease.

“Missed me?” Eddie chuckled

“I have; it’s like you barely have any time for me since you started seeing what’s her face.” I scrunch my face up at the thought

“Oh yeah, well, Chrissy and I are over” Eddie took a step back

“Sorry to hear; want to tell me about it?” I asked, seeing Eddie was clearly hurt by it

“She wanted me to choose her or you, so I chose you” Eddie smiled

“Why me?” my voice caught in my throat

“Because any girl that can’t accept my best friend isn’t worth my time.”

My heart audibly broke. I’m unsure what I expected to hear, but it certainly wasn’t that. I told Eddie to put his stuff in my room while I ordered a Pizza for us for dinner. Eddie made some crack on his way to the stairs about us needing to pick a horror movie because it would make the Pizza taste better. I placed the Pizza order and went to pick a movie since Eddie was taking his sweet time. It was between A Nightmare on Elm Street and Friday the 13th. I took both movie choices and walked up the stairs to my room, looking for Eddie.

“Okay, so we have 2 choices here Friday the 13th or….” I looked up to Eddie

He sat on my bed, holding my book in his hands, reading over my lyrics. I froze, dropping both tapes. He raised his head to look at me, a look of confusion spread across his face. He glanced back to the page and back to me. I dropped my head in shame; I knew our friendship was ruined.

“Ed, I’m sorry”, I whispered

I turned and ran from the room. I ran out the front door heading for the only safe place I knew.

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love Part 15

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

1.4k word count

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings child emotional abuse, panic attack mentioned and described. The mentioned situation is based on my own personal experience with an abusive father and the resulting trauma I have dealt with because of it. I apologise if I trigger anyone.

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

I woke up in Dean’s bed, the sheets tangled around me. The room was still, bathed in the faint glow of the bedside lamp Dean must’ve left on. A glance at the clock told me it was barely 4 a.m. The bunker was silent, its usual hum somehow comforting.

The other side of the bed was empty, untouched, which wasn’t surprising. Memories of last night came flooding back, and I winced. I rubbed at my tired eyes and slid out of bed, pulling on a hoodie to chase off the chill in the air.

Wandering out into the hallway, I found myself in the lounge room. Dean was sprawled out on the couch, his head tilted at an awkward angle, his legs too long to fit comfortably. His hand, now wrapped in a haphazard bandage, rested on his chest. Even in sleep, his brow was furrowed, and he looked... exhausted.

My heart ached at the sight of him. I wanted to curl up beside him, let him hold me, but the fear from last night lingered. Instead, I backed away quietly and headed for the kitchen.

In the kitchen, I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and a granola bar. I leaned against the counter, nibbling at the snack while the weight of everything settled over me. The bunker felt so much bigger when it was this quiet, like the walls were pressing in on me.

Eventually, I wandered to the library. The familiar scent of old books calmed me as I browsed the shelves, running my fingers over the spines until I found a stack of hunters' journals. One caught my eye—its leather cover worn and cracked. I grabbed it, found a cozy armchair, and curled up with it.

Before I knew it, hours had passed. The journal had drawn me in, its pages filled with stories of hunts, danger, and survival. I hadn’t even noticed the time until Dean’s voice broke the silence.

“Y/N?”

I looked up to find him standing in the doorway, his expression cautious. He looked like he hadn’t slept much, his eyes heavy with guilt and worry.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “I don’t expect you to forgive me right now, but I need you to know... I hate that I hurt you. If I’d known—if I’d understood—I never would’ve snapped at you.”

I nodded slowly, not trusting my voice to respond. He seemed to take it as permission to leave, shoving his hands in his pockets as he turned to go.

When he left, I sat there for a while, staring at the journal without really reading it. His words echoed in my mind, mixing with the lingering memories of his anger and the pain I knew he was carrying.

Finally, I stood and made my way to the kitchen. Dean was at the sink, awkwardly trying to clean his bandaged hand. He cursed under his breath when the wrap started to unravel.

“Here,” I said softly, stepping up beside him.

He froze, turning to look at me, his green eyes wide with surprise.

“Let me,” I murmured, taking his hand gently in mine.

I unwrapped the poorly done bandage and winced at the angry red marks on his knuckles. Grabbing the first aid kit from the counter, I cleaned the cuts carefully, my touch as light as possible. Dean didn’t say a word, but I felt his gaze on me the entire time.

Once I had his hand rewrapped, I finally broke the silence. “Dean... I love you,” I said, my voice trembling slightly. “And I want to forgive you. But first, I need to know... what did Cas say to you?”

Dean stiffened, his jaw tightening. For a moment, I thought he wouldn’t answer. But then he sighed, looking down at his freshly bandaged hand.

“Cas told me that God’s furious with us,” he said quietly. “He thinks we’re ruining his plans. And now... he’s decided that if we don’t stop, he’ll find a way to keep us apart. Even if it means killing one of us.”

My stomach dropped, and I felt my knees go weak. “Killing one of us?” I whispered.

Dean nodded, his eyes dark with pain and determination. “I don’t care what it takes. I’m not letting him win. I’m not letting him take you from me.”

The conviction in his voice was enough to steady me, at least for now. I reached up, cupping his cheek with my hand. “We’ll figure this out. Together.”

Dean covered my hand with his, leaning into my touch. “Together,” he echoed.

After everything that had happened, I needed some air, some space to think without the weight of the bunker pressing down on me. I decided to head out to the local shops to grab groceries. It was a simple excuse to clear my head, but I needed it.

Dean had offered to come with me, his tone hesitant, almost pleading, but I shook my head. “I’ll be fine,” I’d said, forcing a small smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes.

He didn’t argue, just watched me leave with a look that made my chest ache.

The grocery store was quiet, the kind of stillness I usually found comforting. I wandered the aisles with a cart, tossing in staples: bread, milk, eggs. The normalcy of it was grounding, pulling me out of my own head, if only a little.

I was reaching for a can of soup when I heard it—the distinct flutter of wings that sent a chill down my spine.

Turning sharply, I found Castiel standing at the end of the aisle, his trench coat looking as rumpled as ever. His expression was serious, his blue eyes full of something I couldn’t quite place.

“Cas,” I said, my voice low but steady. “What are you doing here?”

He stepped closer, his gaze fixed on mine. “I came to warn you, Y/N.”

“Warn me about what?” I asked, crossing my arms.

“You need to leave Dean,” he said, his tone urgent but firm.

The words hit me like a slap, and anger flared in my chest. “Excuse me?”

“It’s for his own good,” Cas insisted. “For both of you.”

“No,” I snapped, my voice louder now. A couple of shoppers glanced at me before hurrying away, sensing the tension. “You don’t get to waltz in here and tell me to leave him. Not after everything.”

“You don’t understand,” he said, his tone softening but still desperate. “God’s plan was never for you and Dean to be together.”

“Then what was his plan?” I demanded, my hands trembling with rage. “Why did he put me in Dean’s life if I’m just supposed to walk away?”

Cas hesitated, his shoulders slumping slightly. “You were meant to be something Dean could never have. A reminder of what he’d lose if he strayed from his path. Your presence was intended to keep him focused on hunting, on defeating the darkness. The anger and frustration of not being able to have you... that was meant to drive him, to help him defeat the devil.”

The words left me stunned, my mind reeling. “So I’m just... what? A tool? A pawn in some divine chess game?”

“It wasn’t my decision,” Cas said, his voice almost apologetic. “It’s God’s plan. And now that you and Dean are together... you’re deviating from it. That deviation could have catastrophic consequences.”

I shook my head, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. “Catastrophic for who? For God? For his ego?”

“Y/N—”

“No, Cas,” I cut him off, my voice trembling with both anger and pain. “I don’t care what God’s plan was. Dean and I—what we have—it’s real. And I’m not walking away from it because some self-righteous deity thinks he knows what’s best.”

Cas’s shoulders slumped further, and for a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of regret in his eyes. “I hope you’re right,” he said quietly. “For both your sakes.”

With that, the sound of wings filled the air again, and he was gone.

I stood there for a moment, my heart pounding and my hands gripping the cart so tightly my knuckles turned white. The fluorescent lights of the grocery store felt harsh, almost unreal.

After a long, shaky breath, I turned back to the shelves, tossing the can of soup into the cart. I wasn’t about to let God or Cas or anyone else decide my life for me. Dean and I would figure this out—together.

And if that meant defying God’s plan? So be it.

Dear Darlin'

Olly Murs X Reader

1.6k word count

Summary Just a little back story to the song Dear Darlin'

Authors Note: I've always been super proud of this piece. I decided it was time to give it some love and attention and well I'm even more proud of it now. I suffered some pretty bad neck, nose and throat burns at work so thought now while I recover is probably the best time to concentrate on writing. So enjoy!

Y/N,

I know what I’ve done, and there is no excuse for it. I know there is nothing I could ever do to fix the damage I’ve caused. I just need you to know that I’m sorry. I’m not asking you to come back; I just need you to understand that you’ve always been my everything. Always have been, always will be. But you’re gone now, and you’re not coming back. I need to accept that and move on. So, this is the last you'll hear from me. Goodbye, my love.

Dear darlin’, please excuse my writing.

I can’t stop my hands from shaking.

‘Cause I’m cold and alone tonight.

And I miss you and nothing hurts like no you.

And no one understands what we went through.

It was short, it was sweet, we tried.

I read the words over and over, my hands trembling as I held the letter. I had barely stepped into my flat thirty minutes ago when I found it waiting for me, the unmistakable scrawl of his handwriting cutting through me like a knife. It had been a month since we ended things, and every day had been a battle—some days, I thought I was moving on, while others, he consumed my thoughts. His face was everywhere: on magazine covers, in store windows, his voice pouring through the radio. Our breakup had become a public spectacle, and everyone had their own theories. None of them were right.

We were in love. Madly, hopelessly in love. But his career, the constant traveling, the distance—it chipped away at us until there was barely anything left. I thought we were strong enough, that I was strong enough. The fans had always been supportive; as long as Olly was happy, they were happy. And we were happy, weren’t we? Until the rumors started.

@FutureMissY/NMurs I hope the rumors about Olly aren’t true.

@FutureMissY/NMurs Remember, Photoshop exists. Don’t believe anything until you talk to him.

@FutureMissY/NMurs We’re here for you, girl. DM us anytime.

I had reassured everyone I would talk to him when he got back from tour. Today was supposed to be that day. Maybe that was why he had been out drinking last night. I sat on the couch, staring at my phone, my mind racing through everything we had built together—our Loft, the home we made from nothing. The walls we painted light brown because white felt too clinical, the mix of new and old furniture, the kitchen we replaced with our own hands. It was ours.

The sound of the front door opening jolted me from my thoughts.

“Y/N, I’m home!”

There he stood, bag in hand, that smile that once made my heart race plastered on his face.

“Please tell me it’s not true,” I whispered, a tear slipping down my cheek despite my efforts to stay composed.

He frowned, stepping toward me. “What do you mean, darlin’?”

I inhaled sharply, my heart hammering. “The girl last night. The one you were photographed kissing.” My voice wavered, rising slightly, unintentionally.

His expression fell in an instant. “Shit.”

He dropped his bag outside the bathroom and moved toward me, rubbing a hand down his face.

“Tell me you didn’t,” I pleaded, my world beginning to crumble.

“I’m so sorry.” He reached for me.

I flinched back. “Don’t touch me.”

“Babe, listen. It was a mistake. A stupid, drunken mistake. It meant nothing.” His voice cracked, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“Did you sleep with her?” My voice was barely above a whisper, shaking with rage.

He swallowed hard. “I... I don’t remember.”

“You did, didn’t you?” My chest tightened. “How did I not see this coming? You’re famous now, and you can have any girl you want. How many more are there?”

“It was a one-time thing. I swear.” His voice rose in desperation.

“I don’t believe you, Olly.”

His jaw clenched. “Why would I throw everything away? Everything I do, I do for us. Can’t you see that? Or are you too damn stubborn?”

I let out a bitter laugh. “Stubborn? You cheated on me!”

“And what about you? Who’s the guy you’ve had here?”

I froze. “How do you know about that?”

“Ah, so you have been cheating too,” he scoffed, as if he'd won some twisted game.

“No,” I whispered. “He’s a friend. His girlfriend kicked him out. I let him stay on the couch for a few nights.”

Silence stretched between us. Then, without another word, I grabbed my jacket and walked out.

For weeks, I stayed with a friend until I found my own place. And now, here I was, gripping his letter, my heart warring with itself. I needed to see him. Needed to know if this letter was closure or a plea.

I drove the familiar streets, the radio humming softly until his name cut through the static.

“After months of hiatus following his public breakup, Olly Murs has released a new single. The trending theory? It’s about his ex. Here it is again—‘Dear Darlin’.’”

I turned up the volume. The lyrics echoed his letter. He had written me a song. Tears blurred my vision as memories washed over me—our late nights, his voice singing me to sleep, our shared dreams.

And if my words break through the wall And meet you at your door All I could say is, "Girl, I mean them all"

Dear Darlin', please excuse my writing I can't stop my hands from shaking 'Cause I'm cold and alone tonight I miss you and nothing hurts like no you And no one understands what we went through It was short, it was sweet, we tried We tried

It had been a long day. We had rearranged furniture until we were happy with how everything looked, unpacked boxes of clothes, plates, cups, and all the little odds and ends that made a place feel like home. We hung pictures, set up lamps, and finally, the Loft felt like ours.

By the end of it all, we were exhausted. It had been a rough few weeks, but at last, we were done. I took a quick shower, letting the hot water ease the ache in my muscles, then stepped into the bedroom. Olly was already lying on the bed, hands folded behind his head, staring at the ceiling.

I crossed the room and crawled onto the bed beside him, resting my head on his chest. One of his arms instinctively wrapped around me, pulling me closer. I closed my eyes, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat—strong and comforting, like a melody lulling me to sleep.

He knew I was tired. Without a word, he began to sing, his voice soft and familiar. "Chasing Cars" by Snow Patrol. His chest vibrated with each note, a sensation that sent warmth through me. I sighed, letting myself sink into the moment, into him.

Sleep pulled at me, and I let it take me. I could always listen to him sing another day.

Like at his audition next week.

Been thinkin' about the bar we drank in Feeling like the sofa was sinking I was warm in the hope of your eyes

So if my words break through the wall To meet you at your door All I could say is, "Girl, I mean them all"

“Here’s to Olly, our next big X Factor star!” His dad raised a glass, pride gleaming in his eyes.

We all cheered, the sound filling the small restaurant. Olly had crushed his audition—four yeses. The only thing better would have been a golden buzzer. We had known he would do it. That was one of the things that had drawn me to him in the first place—his voice. It wasn’t just the sound, it was the way it could reach into the deepest parts of you and make you feel something real.

Tonight was all about him. We started with a family dinner, full of laughter and excitement, before heading out with friends to celebrate. We ended up in our usual spot—a worn-out sofa in the back corner of the bar, slightly hidden from view. It was just us, like always.

Jokes flew about how, once Olly was a big star, he’d be the one paying for all our drinks. I curled into his side, soaking in the warmth of the moment, the banter, the joy.

All I could hope was that he would take me on this journey with him.

When I arrived at the Loft, doubt clawed at me. What if he had moved on? What if he wrote the song for publicity? Or worse—what if this letter was a goodbye I was too late to answer?

I swallowed my fear and knocked. No answer. My shaking fingers fumbled for the spare key I still carried. When I stepped inside, the sight before me shattered me. The man I once knew, always polished, always glowing, was gone. In his place was someone broken—beard unkempt, dark circles haunting his eyes, empty bottles strewn across the floor.

His breath hitched as he saw me. I held up the letter, my voice breaking. “I read your letter. I heard the song.” I swallowed my tears. “I love you, Olly. More than I should right now. I’m not saying I can trust you completely yet, but I’m willing to try. I need you to tell me we can fix this. That you won’t leave me behind.”

He stepped closer, his voice raw. “Y/N, you’re my world. Without you, everything is dark. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“I’ve missed you,” I whispered.

“I’ve missed you too, Y/N.”

And then, I was in his arms, right where I belonged.

Dear darlin', please excuse my writing I can't stop my hands from shaking 'Cause I'm cold and alone tonight I miss you and nothing hurts like no you And no one understands what we went through It was short, it was sweet, we tried

Oh, I concur These arms are yours to hold

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love Part 16

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

2.4k word count

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings MDNI 18+ unprotect p in v, oral F recieving

Authors Note: I'm terrible at writing 18+ content so sorry in advance.

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

By the time I got back to the bunker, the plastic bags were digging into my hands, and my mind was still spinning from what Cas had said. I pushed the door open with my shoulder and made my way to the kitchen, setting the groceries on the counter.

The bunker was quiet as usual, save for the faint sound of metal clicking in the lounge room. I peeked in to see Dean sitting on the couch, a gun laid out in front of him as he cleaned it with practiced ease. His bandaged hand moved a little slower than usual, but he didn’t seem to care.

As I started unpacking the bags, I felt his eyes on me. A few seconds later, I heard the soft scrape of the gun being set down on the table.

“What’s going on, Y/N?” Dean asked, his voice cutting through the silence.

I froze for a moment, my hands still on a carton of eggs. “What do you mean?” I replied, trying to sound casual.

Dean leaned back, crossing his arms. “I know that look. Something’s weighing on you. What happened?”

I sighed, abandoning the act. There was no point in trying to hide it from Dean—he could always see right through me. I turned to face him, leaning against the counter.

“Cas came to see me,” I said quietly.

Dean’s jaw tightened, his expression shifting from curiosity to something darker. “What did he say?”

I hesitated, but then the words came spilling out—the whole conversation, God’s so-called plan, and how we were apparently breaking it. By the time I finished, I could feel the tears welling in my eyes, though I blinked them back.

Dean stood up, pacing a few steps before turning to face me, his green eyes sharp. “You can’t listen to a word Cas says about that crap. He’s been too close to God’s playbook for too long—he doesn’t get it. We’re not pawns, Y/N. Not you, not me.”

“But if we’re really screwing up some grand plan—”

“I don’t give a damn about his plan,” Dean cut me off, his voice firm but not unkind. “I care about you. About us. Whatever comes at us, we’ll handle it. Together.”

I looked at him, his determination so unwavering that it made some of the tension in my chest ease.

Dean must have noticed, because his tone softened as he added, “Look, Sam and Theresa are out on their date night. Maybe we should have one too.”

I raised an eyebrow at him, feeling a small smile tug at my lips despite myself. “A date night? In the bunker?”

“Why not?” Dean shrugged, his usual cocky grin starting to appear. “I’ll grab some beers, we’ll put on a movie, and it’ll be just as good as anything those two are doing.”

I reached into one of the bags and pulled out a tray of ground beef. “How about we start with this? I make a killer burger.”

Dean’s grin widened, his eyes lighting up. “Oh, sweetheart, if your burgers are half as good as your chili, I’m sold.”

“Are you really still going on about my chilli all these months later?”

I laughed softly, feeling lighter for the first time all day. “Just wait. You’ll be begging me to make these every week.”

As I started pulling out spices and ingredients, Dean moved closer, grabbing a cutting board and a knife. “Alright, chef, tell me what to do.”

“Step one,” I teased. “Don’t get in my way.”

Dean chuckled, stepping back with his hands raised in surrender. “Yes, ma’am.”

For a little while, the kitchen filled with the sound of sizzling meat and lighthearted banter, the weight of Cas’s words temporarily pushed aside. And for now, that was enough.

…

The smell of freshly cooked burgers filled the bunker as Dean and I settled on the couch, plates balanced on our laps. The Nightmare Before Christmas was playing on the TV, and I couldn’t help but hum along to the opening song between bites.

Christmas was just a few weeks away, and for the first time in a long time, I felt a little spark of excitement. I glanced over at Dean, who was completely focused on his burger, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You know,” I said, breaking the comfortable silence, “we should really do something for Christmas this year.”

Dean arched an eyebrow at me, chewing thoughtfully. “Like what?”

I grinned. “The whole shebang! Christmas shopping with Sam and Theresa, decorating the bunker, cooking a huge lunch—turkey, ham, roast veggies, all of it. Eggnog, gingerbread, maybe even one of those cheesy holiday movies Sam secretly loves.”

He let out a small chuckle. “Cheesy holiday movies, huh? Can’t wait to see Sam squirm through that.”

“Exactly!” I said, my excitement growing. “It could be fun, Dean. We’ve never really done Christmas right, you know? Not like this.”

Dean tilted his head, his smile softening as he watched me ramble on. “Sounds like you’ve got it all planned out.”

“Not yet,” I admitted, taking another bite of my burger. “But I will. I was thinking about dragging Sam and Theresa out to do some Christmas shopping tomorrow. There’s gotta be a few stores still decked out with trees and lights. We could pick up some decorations for the bunker.”

Dean shook his head, his grin turning into a smirk. “Decorating the bunker? You do realize this place isn’t exactly a Hallmark set, right?”

“That’s the point,” I said, nudging him with my elbow. “It needs some holiday magic. Imagine it—twinkling lights in the library, a tree in the corner, stockings hung up in the war room.”

Dean let out a small laugh, shaking his head again, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he looked at me, his expression softer now. “You’re really into this, huh?”

“I am,” I admitted, glancing back at the TV as Jack Skellington started singing about Christmas Town. “I just think we deserve to have something nice, you know? After everything.”

Dean didn’t respond right away, and when I looked over, he was staring at me, his burger forgotten on his plate.

“What?” I asked, self-conscious under his gaze.

“Nothing,” he said, his voice low. “Just... you’re really something when you’re excited like this.”

My cheeks warmed, and I quickly turned back to the screen, trying to hide my smile.

Dean might not have been entirely convinced about the Christmas spirit, but I could tell he didn’t mind indulging me. And for now, that was enough.

…

The plates were abandoned on the coffee table, the remains of our impromptu dinner forgotten as Dean and I found ourselves tangled up in each other once more. His lips on mine, the warmth of his touch—it was all-consuming, electric.

Dean grabbed my hand and lead me to his room, the world outside the door fading away as we gave ourselves over to each other completely. He freed me from my clothes, allowing his hands to trace each inch of skin that was revealed to him. Once he had me completely nakes he pushed me gently onto his bed, hovering above me. He connected our lips in a hungry kiss, stealing my breath away. He kissed slowly from my neck down to my breasts. He took one nipple into his mouth sucking and licking before moving on to the next. I bit down on my lip to keep from being loud.

“It’s just us here sweetheart no need to be quiet” Dean looked up at me like a man starved of touch.

He returned to my breasts earning a breathy moan. I could feel him smile against my nipple as he kissed in and moved on to kiss down my stomach. He reached the place I needed him most. He spread my legs, bending them at the knee and pushing them out to the sides opening me up in front of him. He licked his lips before placing a soft kiss on the sensitive bud waiting for his attention.

“If you want me to stop just say so” Dean looked up at me. I mustered up small nod before looking off to the side now embarrassed to be naked in front of Dean while he was still completely clothed.

Dean made himself comfortable between my legs before placing my legs over his shoulders. He licked one line up my folds causing me to shake and let out a small squeal mixed with a moan. He immediately went to work licking and sucking at my clit causing my back to arch. The moan that escaped my lips was nothing short of pornographic. Dean knew what he was doing with his tongue and mouth. And he knew it. I could feel the smirk that was plastered on his face. I could feel the heat building in my belly.

“D..Dean I’m going to…” The band tightening in my belly snapped before I could saying anything more. I could feel my legs shaking. I closed my eyes and let the pleasure wash over as Dean worked me through it.

Dean stood up and told me to move up the bed as he pulled his shirt off. I wriggled up the bed not taking my eyes of Dean, wanting to see every part of him. As he pulled down his pants his dick now free from its denim cage sprung up and smacked his stomach. I was far from a virgin but never had I seen a dick so long and thick as his. I was sure he was going to break me. Dean, however, quickly ruined the moment when he hit the ground with a crash as he tried to remove his boots. I couldn’t help but laugh at him. He gave me a cheesy grin from the floor as he got his boots and jeans off. Once he was completely stripped he climbed onto the bed taking his place in between my legs.

“Just remember if you want me to stop…”

“Just say so I know” I smiled up at him.

Dean dipped his head, capture my lips in a kiss full of love. While I was distracted by his lips he took the chance to sneak a hand between us and guide himself into me. The sudden stretch caused me to gasp, throwing my head back onto Deans pillows. Dean stilled once he was completely inside giving me a chance to adjust. But now being in this position I froze up. I think Dean could feel something was wrong. He leaned down and kissed me. The movement caused him to move inside me sending an intense feeling of pleasure ripping through me. I moaned into his mouth as he began to move. Slowly at first but soon he began to move faster. Soon he had my legs up over his shoulders as he found that one spot deep inside me that he hit with precision with each thrust of his hips. Before I knew it I was a babbling mess under his as my release hit me for the second time. Deans movements became sloppy and I felt his hips come to a stuttering holt as his own release washed over him.

 The way he held me, whispered my name like it was the only thing that mattered—it was as though all the tension, all the fear and doubt, had melted into something softer, something unbreakable.

Afterward, I lay against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His fingers lazily trailed up and down my arm, a comforting gesture that made me feel safe, grounded.

“Never thought we’d get here,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.

Dean chuckled softly, his chest rumbling beneath my cheek. “Yeah, well... guess the universe finally got something right.”

I smiled, closing my eyes. “Let’s not jinx it.”

His arms tightened around me, and I felt him press a kiss to the top of my head. “Not a chance.”

Before long, the comforting rise and fall of his chest lulled me into sleep.

A sound startled me awake—a flutter of wings that sent my heart racing. My eyes flew open to see Castiel standing at the foot of the bed, his expression a mix of disappointment and worry.

“Cas,” I whispered, my voice hoarse with sleep. Dean didn’t stir beside me, and I turned to him in confusion.

“He won’t wake,” Cas said flatly, his gaze steady on me. “I’ve ensured it.”

My stomach twisted at his words. “What do you want?”

Cas stepped closer, his hands clasped in front of him. “I’m very disappointed in you, Y/N. And I’m scared.”

“Scared?” I echoed, sitting up carefully. “What are you talking about?”

“I can’t bear the thought of seeing my daughter or my granddaughters hurt,” he said, his voice trembling slightly.

I froze, the words crashing over me like cold water. “Your what?”

Cas sighed, his usual stoicism faltering. “When you were born, you were dead. There was no life in you. Your parents prayed, begged for a miracle... and I answered. I gave you part of my grace to save you, Y/N. You are my daughter—a Nephilim.”

The world tilted on its axis, and I stared at him, unable to process what he’d just said. “I’m... I’m a Nephilim?”

“That is why you heal so quickly,” Cas explained, his tone measured but soft. “It’s also why God’s plans have been so... complicated where you and Dean are concerned.”

“But the granddaughters—”

“You’re pregnant,” Cas interrupted, his voice low. “With identical twin girls.”

My breath caught, my hand instinctively going to my stomach. “That’s not possible. I can’t—”

Cas held up a hand. “You can. And you are.”

I stared at him, my heart pounding in my chest. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you need to know what’s at stake,” Cas said, his tone firm now. “And because... I’ve said too much already.”

Before I could say another word, he vanished, leaving only the faint sound of wings in his wake.

“Cas?” Dean’s groggy voice broke the silence, and I turned to see him sitting up, rubbing his eyes. “I heard him. Where is he?”

I couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. The weight of Cas’s revelations had left me rooted to the spot. Dean frowned, his gaze locking onto mine.

“Y/N?” he asked, his voice laced with concern. “Are you okay?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, I stared at him, wondering how I was supposed to tell him what I’d just learned.

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love (Revisited) Part 3

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

6.5k word count

Summary The part in which you begin to question if Dean actually has feelings for you or is just stringing you along. Also you prove your a kick ass hunter through the power of research.

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers, slow-burn

Warnings mention and description of death, s-assault, talks of people with disabilities in a negative light. Your disability doesn't make you a burden! You are amazing, you are loved!

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

I cried for what felt like an eternity, held tightly in Dean's arms. At some point, he had moved us over to sit on his bed, never once letting me go. When I finally pulled myself together enough to move away from him, I could only manage to stare at the ground in front of the bed.

"Never seen a dead body before?" Sam asked gently.

I nodded, still unable to speak, my voice too shaky to trust. The room fell into a comfortable silence. Dean stood up from the bed and began moving around, retrieving his bag from a random corner. He pulled out a Metallica shirt and brought it over to me.

"You can borrow this for now, so you don't have to go out to your car to get your own clothes," he said, handing me the shirt.

I accepted it and walked off to the bathroom to change. I hung my wet swimsuit over the towel rack and made my way back to Dean's bed. The boys nodded in acknowledgment as I crawled under the covers, hoping that if I lay there long enough with my eyes closed, sleep would eventually come. But my mind had other ideas.

As I tried to sleep, I overheard the boys talking.

"This has really shaken her, Dean," Sam said softly.

"I know, Sammy. I wanted to keep her out of this life. We're supposed to save people, not drag them into our kind of crazy," Dean replied, frustration evident in his voice.

"Come on, man. She chose this for herself. She had the opportunity to walk away, but she decided to take up this life. There's not much we can do about that."

"I just want to make sure she's somewhere I can keep an eye on her. I want her to be safe," Dean said, his voice tense.

"You can't expect her to just pack up and leave, Dean. What's gotten into you, man? You've never acted like this."

"She's... I don't know... she's different."

"You're in love."

"Dude, don't even go there," Dean snapped, ending the conversation.

The room fell silent, and eventually, I drifted off. When I woke up, it was dark outside. The cheap alarm clock next to the bed read 4:30 a.m. I sat up and looked around the room. Dean was asleep on the lounge, and Sam was in his bed. I felt too restless to sleep, so I quietly tiptoed across the room to grab Sam's laptop from the table. I took it back to Dean's bed and started going over the information Sam and Dean had gathered while I was asleep. It seemed they hadn't gotten much further than I had.

I knew burying myself in the case wasn't the smartest thing to do, but I needed to stop whatever was happening from hurting anyone else. But since we had all arrived at a dead end, it meant we needed to look at this from a different angle. I closed Sam's laptop and snuck out to my car to grab a change of clothes. I quietly slipped into the bathroom, changed out of Dean's shirt, retrieved Sam's laptop from the bed, and slipped quietly out of the hotel room. Rather than take my car and risk waking the boys, I decided to walk. I just wanted food and free Wi-Fi, and there was only one place I knew where I could get both: McDonald's.

I walked the six blocks to the nearest McDonald's, ordered more hash browns than should be legally allowed, and took a seat in a back corner while I waited for them to be ready. I opened Sam's laptop and began going over all the information again. I pulled up the details on all the victims and the pool, rereading everything. My hash browns arrived, and I ate them while pouring over the information, but nothing stood out. Twelve deaths now, and there seemed to be no connection between them—different ages, races, genders, religions. Not a single overlap, and nothing that stood out as a reason why these people.

Even when I removed deaths that could reasonably be discounted, like the first death or the boy who apparently slipped down the stairs and the twins who drowned in the wave pool, the puzzle still didn’t add up. It was frustrating. I groaned and sank back into the highly uncomfortable plastic chair. I took a glance around the now busy McDonald's, then checked the time in the bottom right-hand corner of the laptop. 6:23 p.m. My eyes widened as I realized I'd been sitting in the same spot all day. I hurriedly packed up the laptop and went to retrieve my phone, confused as to why Sam or Dean hadn’t been trying to call me all day. My hands rummaged through my pockets, coming up empty. I dumped out my messenger bag, finding nothing. Shit. I mentally cursed.

I quickly shoved everything back into my bag before sprinting into the parking lot, hoping I had simply left my phone in the car. A quick glance, however, showed no sign of my car. Right, I walked here. I groaned, rubbed my hands over my face, and began the walk back to the hotel. Dean was probably thinking I'd done something stupid, and Sam probably thought I stole his laptop. I mean, technically, I did, but I was going to return it, and I never intended to be gone all day.

The walk back to the hotel seemed to take twice as long as the walk to McDonald's. But when the hotel finally came into sight, I quickened my pace. I came to a quick stop, however, when I heard arguing in the room.

“I’m telling you, Dean, she might not come back,” Sam yelled. “And she probably took more than just my laptop.”

“Oh, so you think she took your laptop and God knows what else but left behind her phone and her car that cost way more than anything we own?”

“I mean, how well do we really know her, Dean?”

“If I may intercede, could it not be that she is somewhere researching the case and that time ran from her grasp?” A third voice I didn’t recognize chimed in.

“What…do you mean time got away from her?” Dean asked, baffled.

“Is that how you say it? If so, that’s what I meant to say,” the voice responded.

“Hate to say it, Sammy, but I agree with the angel,” Dean said.

I reached out and knocked on the door, not wanting to barge in while tempers were clearly high. The room fell silent. Heavy boot steps made their way towards the door. There was a moment of silence before a quiet "Thank God" could be heard from the other side of the door. The door swung open to reveal just Dean and Sam in the room. I was certain I had heard a third voice. I stepped quietly past Dean into the room. From the look on Sam’s face, I could tell Dean must have made some gesture behind me directed at him. I glanced toward the bathroom, expecting to see the third person, or at least for the door to be closed, signaling someone was inside. But to my shock and confusion, the door was open, and the bathroom was empty.

“Who were you talking to?” I asked, looking between them, confused.

“We weren’t talking to anyone,” Dean said, glancing over at Sam. “Maybe you heard the TV,” he motioned to the TV that was on but muted.

“Anyway, where have you been?” Sam asked, changing the subject, though he was clearly still mad at me.

“I went to McDonald's to use their Wi-Fi and continue researching. I was up at 4:30, and I didn’t want to wake you,” I explained, looking over at Dean, who had moved to sit on the end of his bed. “Sorry I took your laptop without asking, Sam. I left mine behind at my mother’s when she kicked me out.”

I handed Sam back his laptop. He took it without so much as a thank you and immediately began checking it over. I wanted to scoff and roll my eyes but knew that would only piss him off more.

“So, did you find anything?” Dean asked.

“Nothing. I even tried removing the deaths that could reasonably be written off as accidents, and even that didn’t resolve anything. I am, however, confident that we’re likely dealing with a vengeful spirit,” I said.

“And how did you reach that conclusion?” Sam scoffed, tossing his laptop on his bed.

“We’ve ruled out burial grounds and anything sacred. Then, if you look at location and the fact that all the deaths were witnessed and nothing supernatural was seen, it leaves a very short list. Of that list, I felt that a spirit was the most likely,” I explained, keeping my eyes locked with Sam.

“Why a vengeful spirit? Why not a water sprite?” Sam asked with a smirk.

“Seriously, Sammy? A fairy? Have you ever, in all your years of hunting, found any reliable concrete evidence that fairies are real?” I raised an eyebrow and crossed my arms, met with silence from Sam. “That’s what I thought. Spirit it is.”

Dean sat on his bed, a smirk plastered on his face, clearly amused. “So if that’s the case, then I guess we should head back to the pool and ask more about these deaths,” Dean said, clapping his hands together.

Sam silently huffed and made his way to the door. Dean muttered something along the lines of "he’ll get over it" before moving to the bathroom. I heard the shower turn on while I stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. With nothing else to do for the night and both boys otherwise occupied, I retrieved Dean’s shirt from the corner where I had tossed it that morning and got ready for bed. I was just chilling on the bed, enjoying a nice stretch and yawn when Dean stepped out of the bathroom in nothing but his towel. The boy really knew how to make a girl blush.

“Sorry, the room was quiet, so I just thought you’d, you know, left,” Dean said awkwardly.

I opened and closed my mouth a few times, unable to form a proper sentence. Dean seemed frozen in place too, his expression unreadable. My eyes wandered over Dean’s chiseled chest. It was clear he worked out—a necessity in his line of work, but it still caught me off guard. Before I could stop myself, I was standing in front of him, my hand reaching out to trace the contours of his chest down to his stomach. His skin was marred with old scars, and I felt the muscles twitch beneath my touch.

Dean placed a finger under my chin, gently lifting my head so our eyes met. The intensity in his gaze made my heart race. Neither of us moved for several moments, locked in a silent standoff. When it became clear neither of us was going to break away, Dean began to close the distance between us.

“I brought dinner,” Sam suddenly announced, walking in the door.

Dean and I jumped apart, startled, as Dean made a beeline for his clothes, quickly pulling on a shirt before heading back into the bathroom. I silently cursed Sam for the interruption. He glanced awkwardly between the now-closed bathroom door and me, clearly realizing he had walked in at the worst possible moment. Sam didn’t say anything, and I took a seat at the table as he began to silently dish out the fast food he’d bought. Dean’s and my dinner was burgers, while Sam had opted for some kind of salad. Dean emerged from the bathroom moments later, fully clothed. He grabbed his burger and fries and left the room, mumbling something about going to see a friend.

Sam and I ate in silence before he went to shower. I retreated to Dean’s bed, pulling his shirt up over my nose to breathe in his scent. The comforting mix of sandalwood, leather, whiskey, and gasoline filled my senses, but I was jolted back to reality when Sam suddenly exited the bathroom and started talking.

“What’s happening between you and Dean?”

“I...uh…what do you mean?” I stammered, caught off guard.

“After we left last time, Dean kept talking about you. He was hoping we’d see you again, but at the same time, he was hopeful you’d listen to him and take his advice,” Sam said as he sat on his bed. “He clearly loves you, but I don’t think having you around is best for Dean.”

“If there was anything between Dean and me, it would be none of your business,” I snapped, my anger flaring. “I love Dean. I’ve felt myself falling for him from the moment I met him. I hoped you guys would come back, but I accepted that you probably wouldn’t. Besides, who are you to say what’s best for Dean?”

“I’m his brother,” Sam yelled, his voice filled with frustration. “Having you around is distracting him, and in this line of work, distraction guarantees death.”

Sam’s outburst scared me, and all I could muster was a quiet “Goodnight, Sam” before curling up in Dean’s bed. Sam stormed out of the room, and moments later, I heard the roar of Dean’s Impala as it drove off. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I cried myself to sleep in the now quiet room.

When I woke the next morning, Sam and Dean were already discussing their game plan for the day. I sat up in bed, listening to their conversation before heading to the bathroom for a quick shower. After getting dressed, I packed my swimsuit into a bag and slung it over my shoulder. Dean grabbed his car keys and asked if I was joining them in his car or if I’d be driving my own. I chose to go with Dean to save on gas. The less money I had to spend, the better.

We drove in silence until we reached the pool. The parking lot was nearly empty. Dean found a spot close to the entrance, parked, and turned off the engine. He asked me to go in ahead of them to check if the police were still around. I made my way into the building, scanning the area from the reception desk. There was no crime scene tape, and no signs of police presence.

“Sad, wasn’t it?” a voice said from behind me.

“What?” I asked, turning to see a woman standing beside me.

“Didn’t you hear about the suicide two days ago?” she asked.

“Oh, they ruled that a suicide?” I replied, trying to sound casual.

“Yeah, they said the girl had been sexually assaulted a couple of weeks ago, and that was apparently her breaking point. Poor thing.”

I nodded in agreement as the woman walked off towards the pools. I headed back outside to inform the boys, who were now dressed in their suits and digging through the trunk. I wasn’t going to question when or how they had changed. I grabbed my bag from the back seat and filled them in on the details of the recent death. Dean and Sam exchanged a knowing look before we all headed back into the pool. I paid to swim while Sam and Dean flashed their badges, continuing their story about investigating on behalf of a victim’s family.

As Sam and Dean went off to speak with the staff, I wandered around the pool area, trying to piece together anything that could help with the case. I checked an information wall in the reception area, but it said nothing about the incidents. I walked around to the locations where the previous accidents had occurred but found nothing out of the ordinary. Frustrated, I was about to head back to Sam and Dean when I overheard two familiar voices that made my blood run cold.

“I swear she was here the other day with two hot guys.”

“Oh my god, I always knew she was such a slut. You watch—soon she’ll be pregnant and won’t have any idea who the father is.”

“Look, there she is.”

“Hi, Rachel. Jordan. Do you work here too?” I asked, panic slowly creeping in.

“Yeah, what of it? It pays well,” Jordan replied, crossing her arms.

“Oh, okay. I-I was just going to go for a swim while I wait for my boyfriend to finish up.”

“Boyfriend or boyfriends?” Rachel snickered.

Not wanting to continue the conversation, I quickly turned and fled. I had been outside in a general seating area, but I made my way back into the main swimming complex. I spotted Sam talking with a lifeguard near the wave pool, but I didn’t want to face him after last night, so I hurried on, continuing my search for Dean. It wasn’t until I saw him speaking with the man behind the snack counter that I realized how badly I was shaking. Dealing with my high school bullies had rattled me more than I wanted to admit.

I changed direction and headed for the changing rooms instead. I needed to calm down before continuing the investigation. If there was one thing I agreed with Sam on, it was that distractions could get me killed. I made my way to the sinks and splashed some cool water on my face, staring at myself in the mirror as I tried to push down the anger and fear that were consuming me. Fear of the bullies and anger at myself for still not having the courage to stand up to them. After a few deep breaths, I dried my face and headed back out to the pool area where I had last seen Dean.

A quick glance at the snack counter told me he was no longer there, starting my search for him all over again. Luckily, it didn’t last long. I spotted him in the adults-only area above one of the 25-meter pools, which had sun chairs and a spa. Unfortunately, he was speaking with them. I sucked in a deep breath and walked towards the area, steeling myself. I walked up beside Dean and laced my fingers with his, standing silently by his side as I listened to their conversation. Dean was asking questions about the other accidents that had occurred at the pool, but at the same time, he was absentmindedly rubbing circles into my hand with his thumb. It was incredibly distracting, and I found myself staring at our hands, lost in thoughts about last night.

"Here’s a question: How does someone as unattractive as her end up with someone as handsome as you?" My head snapped up to see Rachel giggling at her own comment.

"Yeah, it just doesn’t add up unless you’re only with her because of her money," Jorden chimed in.

"Or maybe because she was easy to get into bed," Rachel added with a laugh.

"Shut up, both of you," Dean said sharply, turning to face them. "Y/N is the most beautiful, amazing, intelligent, sweetest person I’ve ever met. God knows I don’t deserve her, but here she is right next to me, and that makes me one hell of a lucky bastard." He said this with a look of intense sincerity before turning back to me with a smile.

I was stunned into silence, my cheeks burning with a deep blush. Clearly, Dean’s words had left them speechless too, as they quickly excused themselves. Dean watched them leave before turning back to me.

"So, did you find anything?" Dean asked, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"Oh, uh, a woman told me that the death the other day has been ruled a suicide and that the girl had been assaulted about a week ago," I said.

"Assaulted? Did she mention if the friend who was with her here was also there then?" Dean asked, a sudden realization crossing his face.

"No, she didn’t. Why?" I asked, puzzled.

"I think I know what’s going on. We need to find Sam," Dean said urgently.

Dean, still holding my hand, led me out of the adults-only area. He scanned the pools and seating areas before dragging me up the ramps toward the reception. Dean’s determined stride must have looked intimidating, a grown man pulling what appeared to be a teenage girl. I felt the eyes of the onlookers on us as we reached the reception and practically sprinted to Sam, who was talking to someone at the desk.

Sam looked at our interlaced hands with a questioning expression before Dean, realizing we were still holding hands, awkwardly let go. He rubbed his hand on his suit jacket before shoving it into his pants pocket and waited for Sam to finish his conversation. Sam thanked the receptionist and led us to a more private corner.

"I think I’ve figured out what’s going on here, Sammy," Dean said before Sam could speak.

"Well, fill us in," I said, both exhausted from running and impatient.

"I’m pretty sure our spirit is viewing these people as burdens on those closest to them," Dean explained.

"Care to elaborate?" Sam asked, crossing his arms.

"One lifeguard mentioned that the American victim’s mother said they were here to see a world-class behavioral specialist to help calm down the kid. Another lifeguard told me that one of the victims fell over the railing from the spa area to the concrete below—she was in a wheelchair, and she died instantly," Dean said.

"And the assault—she would have been depressed," I whispered.

"So what? That doesn’t bring us any closer to figuring out who the spirit is," Sam said. "It could be someone who felt like a burden or someone who saw others as a burden."

"Then we need to look at all the deaths and figure out who fits the pattern and who doesn’t. We know it has to be someone who died here," I said, looking between them.

"Then let’s investigate each victim more closely," Dean agreed.

Sam and I nodded, and we all headed to the parking lot. As we stepped outside, Dean was rummaging for his car keys, Sam was absorbed in his phone, and I was staring at the ground. None of us paid much attention to the parking lot until Dean looked up, his face contorted with anger.

"What the hell?!" he exclaimed. Sam and I turned to see the empty space where the Impala had been.

"Oh dear, was that your car?" A familiar voice came from behind us.

"You bitch!" Dean shouted, storming toward Jorden.

"I’m sorry, but the car was illegally parked," Jorden said, unfazed by Dean’s rage. She maintained a smirk as Dean nearly confronted her.

"Baby was parked perfectly!" Dean yelled in her face.

"Well, not when I came out," Jorden said with a dismissive shrug, turning on her heel and walking back into the building.

"Come on, I know the way to the impound lot," I sighed, leading the way.

Dean walked beside me, while Sam trailed behind us, his gaze burning into the back of my head. I had no idea what his problem was. All we needed to do was finish the case, and then they could go back to the U.S., where they wouldn’t have to see me again—assuming no more cases came up here. The walk to the impound lot took nearly 45 minutes, during which Sam’s intense stare and Dean’s monologue about his car made the time drag. I stayed silent, plagued by the thought that if I hadn’t been here, Jorden wouldn’t have targeted Dean, and Sam wouldn’t be so worried.

"Oh, thank God," Dean said suddenly, breaking my reverie.

"Oh, we’re here," I said, looking at the impound lot sign in a daze.

"Hey, Sammy, why don’t you go get the car, and I’ll wait out here with Y/N?" Dean said, his voice tinged with concern.

Sam scoffed, rolled his eyes, and walked into the lot. I watched him disappear among the rows of cars, some crushed and piled high. Dean observed me watching Sam, and once he was sure Sam was out of earshot, he spoke.

"What’s going on with you?" Dean asked, pulling me from my thoughts.

"Huh? What? N-nothing is wrong," I stuttered.

"Don’t even try it, short stack. You’ve been silent since we left the pool. So are you going to tell me what the problem is, or am I going to have to make you talk about it?" Dean’s voice grew serious.

"Honestly, it’s fine. It’s probably just in my head," I tried to smile.

"Oh no, you’re not getting out of it that easily," Dean said firmly. "Now spill."

"It’s just that I feel like I’m the problem," I sighed. "Everything that’s happened today could have been avoided if I weren’t here. Hell, everything that happened last night might have been prevented too if I think about it." I hugged myself awkwardly.

"Okay, first off, you are not the problem. You’re far from it," Dean said, uncrossing his arms and pointing at me. "Secondly, I never want to hear you call yourself a problem again."

“Well, Sam seems to think I’m a pretty big issue, and Jorden only did what she did because of me,” I said, my voice breaking as tears began to fall. Before I could stop them, Dean had me wrapped in his arms. One arm was around my back, his thumb gently rubbing my arm, while the other hand cradled my head against his chest. He kissed the top of my head and rested his chin lightly on it.

"I’ll talk to Sam," Dean said softly. "And as for those girls, I think they’d have been snobby no matter who was here."

I nodded, resting against Dean. It felt like an eternity before Sam returned. Dean released me, and we put some space between us. We talked about Jorden and Rachael, recounting their high school antics. I admitted how I still felt like a failure for not standing up to them. Dean, however, pointed out how he’d noticed the envy in their eyes whenever they saw me. He even mentioned how he’d make it obvious he was checking me out, just to see them squirm with jealousy. I chuckled at that, wishing I could’ve seen their faces.

Sam arrived with four bags of stuff but no Impala.

“Where’s Baby?” Dean asked, his anger palpable.

“Sorry, Dean. They’re right about to close. I paid the fine, and they said we could pick up the car in the morning,” Sam explained.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean cursed. “Did you at least check for damage?”

“Uh...” Sam looked nervously between Dean and the pavement. “The passenger side is dented. It looks like they pushed it with another car. Sorry, Dean.”

“SON OF A BITCH!” Dean yelled.

I quickly placed a hand on Dean’s arm to get his attention. “It’s okay, Dean. We can go to my mum’s place for the night. She won’t be home anyway, and we can come back first thing in the morning to get Baby and assess the damage then.”

“I’m gonna kill them,” Dean’s voice trembled with anger as he tried to calm down.

I took Dean’s hand in mine and began leading him away from the impound lot. Sam asked how far the walk was and how I could be so sure my mum wouldn’t be home. I told them it was about a 20-minute walk—a distance I knew well from my teenage years, dealing with my car being impounded for various reasons. My mum worked abroad most of the year, managing a large baby and children’s business. She was rarely home, spending her time between London and Sweden. I’d been looking after myself since I was 14, often hosting friends like Theresa to avoid feeling too alone.

By the time I finished explaining, we were at my mum’s house. I led them down the steep driveway to the side gate. It was unlocked, so I lifted the metal latch and walked into the small backyard, which hadn’t changed since my last visit. I entered through the sliding door into an open living room, kitchen, and dining area, with a staircase leading upstairs.

“Those two lounges are pull-out sofa beds,” I pointed to the metal sofas that looked like they were from the '80s. “I’ll be sleeping through that sliding door, which is my old room. The door next to it is a bathroom with another sliding door into my room.”

“Oh, I have to see your room,” Dean said with a laugh.

He went straight for the sliding door, pushing it open and stepping inside. His immediate burst of laughter drew Sam in, and I followed, feeling embarrassed by the state of my room. The pink and purple walls, the fairy bedspread, and, most mortifying of all, the life-sized cutout of Gerard Way taped to the ceiling above my bed.

“Are you sure you have the right house?” Sam laughed. “I mean, come on—fairies?”

“It was a phase,” I huffed.

“Sam, did you see the poster on the ceiling?” Dean laughed.

“Oh, get out, both of you,” I said, waving my arms around.

The boys left the room, still chuckling. I locked the sliding door and the bathroom door, craving a moment of peace and a hot shower. I rummaged through my cupboard, found an old band shirt I used to sleep in, and headed for the shower. As the hot water washed away the day’s stress, I allowed myself to relax. Afterward, I dressed, dried off, and climbed into bed. In the silence, I heard Sam and Dean speaking softly in the lounge area.

“She’s a distraction for you, Dean,” Sam’s voice was hushed but intense.

“That doesn’t give you the right to upset her. Besides, once we’re through this case, we can go home, and you can go back to pretending she never existed,” Dean replied.

“But you won’t. You’ll always wonder if she’s okay, if she’s alive,” Sam said. “This is why hunters don’t get happily ever afters.”

“Don’t worry so much, Sammy. Once we’re home, I can hit up a few bars, get laid, and get her out of my system. It’s worked in the past; why wouldn’t it work this time?”

I couldn’t listen anymore. I looked up at the poster on my ceiling and cried, letting the tears come until I fell asleep, just as I had on so many nights in that room.

“You know she’s different, Dean,” Sam said.

“Oh yeah? How would you know that?” Dean asked.

“You love her. It’s obvious,” Sam shrugged. “After we were here last, you kept bringing her up. You literally got every form of social media to track her down and see what she was up to. You were worried about her then, but now that you have her number, what happens if she doesn’t message or call you? What will you do?”

“You know what? I’m done with this conversation,” Dean said, turning his back to Sam, trying to get some sleep.

Suddenly, I was jolted awake by a familiar voice yelling from the lounge room. “Who the hell are you? Why are you in my house?”

It was my mother. I jumped out of bed and raced into the lounge.

“Mum, it’s okay. They’re my friends,” I said, stepping into the room.

“Y/N, what are you doing here? I thought you were traveling and had no intention of ever coming back,” Mum said.

“We just needed somewhere to crash for the night while Dean’s car gets fixed. We’ll head out in the morning. Honestly, I didn’t think you’d be home.”

“I wasn’t. I just flew in early this morning from London. Are you going to introduce your friends?” Mum asked, gesturing to Sam and Dean.

“This is Sam and that’s Dean. They’re brothers,” I said, pointing to each one.

“Are you sleeping with them?” Mum asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Mum! Seriously, why would you ask that?” I almost shouted.

“Sorry, ma’am, we’re just friends. Travel buddies,” Dean spoke up, trying to defuse the situation.

“Oh, American. I see. Figures you’d end up with someone American. It was always going to be that or someone British,” Mum shrugged.

“Seriously, Mum,” I sighed.

“What? I’m just stating the facts. Would you boys like breakfast before you all rush off? God knows my daughter can’t stand me, and now that she knows I’m home, she’ll be dying to leave as soon as possible,” Mum said dramatically.

“That sounds great, thank you very much,” Sam said with a smile.

I sighed and went back to my room to change. I grabbed another old band shirt and a pair of ripped skinny jeans, then packed a suitcase with items I should have brought earlier—my laptop, extra clothes, and my jewelry box. I placed the suitcase next to the boys’ duffle bags and headed upstairs to the kitchen.

Sam and Dean were already at the dining table, chatting and laughing with my mum, who was busy cooking pancakes. I sat silently at the table, listening to their conversation. Dean seemed to be getting along great with my mum, which only made the previous night more painful. I knew I was falling for him, but if he planned to leave, return to the U.S., and pretend I never existed, why make a big deal about not letting me out of his sight? Why go out of his way to comfort me?

“Okay, breakfast is ready,” Mum said cheerfully.

“Oh, this looks amazing, Miss Y/L/N. Thank you,” Dean said, taking the plate of pancakes from my mum and placing it on the table. The boys began to dig in, enjoying what was probably their first home-cooked meal in a long time. The conversation with my mother continued effortlessly, and I couldn’t help but notice how convincingly Dean lied about how we met, what they did for a living, and why they were in Australia. It made me question if everything he’d told me was a lie. Maybe I needed to be more like Dean and just move on after this case was over.

Sonny Carisi question

Does Sonny speak Italian? We know he speaks Spanish we've heard that. Sonny is Italian-American so I want to assume he does. I'm working on my Barba x Reader, the reader is Carisi's youngest sister and I was thinking I would have them have little secret sibling conversations in Italian. I speak fluent Italian, French and Spanish so incorporating it would be no issue I just don't want to use it if Sonny doesn't speak Italian.

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love (Revisited)

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

3k word count

summary While exploring a haunted house your friend told you about, you have a chance encounter with a pair of brothers who give you a crash introduction to their world.

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings mention of grave desecration (this is illegal don't do it!)

Note So I remembered my Mibba log-in and found this embarrassment of a story along with a long list of other equally embarrassing stories. I decided to challenge myself to edit and rewrite the stories and post them here. I will also include a link to the original story so you can read it in all it's cringy glory. This was a story from 2009 that I wrote with 2 friends of mine that we never completed. Once I have decringed the story I will finish it here. Enjoy I guess.

Original / Next Chapter

For some dumb reason, I had decided it would be fun to check out the creepy abandoned house down the road from my friend Linsey's house. At the time, it had seemed like a great idea. Everyone was always talking about how the house was haunted. The neighbourhood rumour was that the father had annihilated the last family to live in the house. But, of course, there was no proof of this. Linsey refused to go anywhere near the house and had chosen to stay home. I, however, convinced my friend Theresa to join me for this stupid adventure. Things had started out okay. Getting entry to the house was easy enough. We pulled out our phones, giggled, and recorded as we walked through a place frozen in time, joking about how this would make us Facebook famous. After we made our way to the second floor, things changed. The air upstairs was icy cold compared to the blistering heat outside. A large bang came from downstairs. Theresa noped out and took off from the house, to my best guess. All I know is she took off running down the stairs before I even had a chance to process the bang. Instead of following, I froze. I stood in the doorway to what looked to be a bedroom staring wide-eyed at the staircase, trying to gain the courage to run downstairs.

"Quick in here," said a voice breaking me from my trans.

I ran towards the voice. I saw two guys, clearly brothers, hiding in the small closet in the room. I squeezed into the closet with them. I took a moment to look at them in the light of a flashlight one of them was holding. The one I guest to be the older one had short dark blonde hair and a small amount of stubble. I guessed him to be around 6’1’; meanwhile, the one I took to be the younger brother had longer, fluffy light brown hair and was clean-shaven. He was easy 6’4 pushing 6’5. You know what they say the older sibling is always the shortest sibling.

“What are you doing in here?” The shorter one asked.

“I was exploring with my friend. We just heard the rumours about the place being haunted and wanted to check it out,” I said, throwing my arms about in frustration as much as possible in the small space. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh, exploring just like you,” The tall one said, looking nervously between his brother and me.

“Oh, that’s a lie. You are a terrible liar. What are your names?" I asked as the older brother snickered behind me. "I'm Dean, and this is my brother Sam," said the older one. "I'm Y/n," I said. “Now, what are you really doing here?” I asked looking between them.

“Hunting a ghost”, Dean blurted out.

“Dean” Sam looked at him, frustrated.

“What? She walked herself into this. She should know what's going on. We can’t get her out of here safely otherwise” Dean pointed his open hand at me. “Uh, hello right here. Would you care to explain” I huffed, putting my hands on my hips.

Dean sighed, getting frustrated looks from Sam, but he explained everything. It sounded like the ramblings of a crazy man, or men in this case. Dean explained that people had been reporting getting attacked and followed home. Some people had even been reportedly killed in the house. This was nothing I had ever heard before nor had it come up in my research. Truthfully, my research was a 20 minute google search. I wasn’t from the area and wouldn’t know about the place if it wasn’t for Linsey. We lived 5 suburbs apart, so there was no reason for me to be anywhere near this house. Dean explained what they do and how they ended up in Sydney, Australia. I would have said he was lying and crazy, but he seemed honest. He truly believed everything he was saying. And it felt like I should give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Okay, so if everything you're saying is true, what do we do?” I asked

“You don’t do anything. We need to figure out where the body is and burn it,” Dean said pointing a finger between himself and Sam.

“The whole family who lived here last is buried in the local cemetery in a family tomb,” I said like it was common knowledge.

“Wait, how did you find that out?” Sam asked

“I googled it”, I shrugged. “I just want to know if the rumours were true, so I googled. Their burial place was like the first google result” I shrugged.

“Rumours?” Dean asked

“That the father murdered his whole family,” I said. “I couldn’t find anything, but they all died in this house the same night.”

“So, there is a chance daddy dearest ganked them all,” Dean said

“Well, that’s what the police were thinking, but they didn’t have enough proof,” I said

“Well, looks like we need to burn dear old Dad”, Dean smirked at Sam.

“First, we need to get out of the house,” Sam said

The whole time we had been standing around talking I could feel a cool breeze from what was supposed to be the solid wardrobe wall behind us. I turned to face the wall of the closet and ran a finger along the seem where I could feel the air. I pressed along the wall praying it was in fact what I thought it was, a hidden door. Thankfully it popped open, revealing a hidden stairs case. Most likely a servant staircase. I silently cheered and led the way down the stairs. At the bottom was a door that led into the kitchen, and in the kitchen was a backdoor. Once we were somewhat safe in the yard, I let Dean and Sam lead the way to wherever they were going. They walked out into a back alley behind the house. Sitting in the alley was a beautiful looking 67 Chevy Impala. I giggled to myself before hearing another person squealing from the other side of the car.

"Theresa" I questioned, peaking around the car. "Y/n," she said, running over to me pulling me into a hug. "Are you okay?" I asked looking her over. "I'm fine," Theresa said. "Thank god," I sighed. “Where the hell did you go? And why did you abandon me?”

“Outside, duh, I ran out through the kitchen and then was going to run down the alley to Linsey’s, but I spotted this beauty. Can you believe there is another one identical to yours?” Theresa squealed “Oh and yeah so sorry about leaving you behind, autopilot you know”.

“No, I can’t”, I smiled “Also your forgiven just don’t do it again”.

“Okay, enough with the weirdness”, Dean spoke up. “Who is she, and why is she looking at baby?”

“Oh, this is my friend Theresa the one I was exploring with.” I said, “Theresa, this is Sam and Dean. Who is baby?” Dean waved a hand at the car like it was obvious.

“Oh great, so she was in the house too,” Sam said completely ignoring everything else.

“Well, Theresa looks like you're coming with us,” Dean said, hoping in the car.

“Can we go get my car before we take off?” I asked while getting into the car.

“Where is it?” Dean asked.

“Parked out the front of the house,” I said.

Dean sighed, put the Impala in drive and drove around the front of the house. As soon as we rounded the corner, Dean spotted my Impala. He smirked and chuckled, almost surprised that I had the same car as him. We pulled up in front of my car just long enough for Theresa and me to jump out of Deans car and into mine. Dean motioned out his window for me to lead the way. The late afternoon sky bled into twilight as we reached the cemetery. A thrill, tinged with defiance, shot through me as I saw the locked gates. Nighttime visits were strictly forbidden, and the council was none too happy about the recent wave of skateboarders and trill seekers. But the gate seemed to be a normal hindrance to the boys. With practiced ease, they vaulted the gate, their laughter echoing off the ancient stones. I scanned the perimeter, spotting a hidden gap in the fence, and followed them through, a hint of apprehension mixed with the excitement.

 I walked the boys over to the family tomb. The tomb was opened, the door clearly having been broken in a long time ago. They asked us to wait outside while they set to working inside. The boys had a worn duffle with them, out of which they pulled out salt, petrol and a crowbar. The family had been placed in their coffins into the wall with a limestone name plate marking each person’s final resting place. Dean managed to pry the nameplate for the father off the wall exposing the coffin which was quite decayed. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t impressed by Deans strength. Sam covered the casket in petrol while Dean covered it in salt as best they could through the small opening. Once the casket was covered as it could be, Dean threw a lit matchbook into the hole. The coffin burst into flame quickly heating the small mausoleum.  

“Well, that should be all done,” Dean said. “But to be safe, we should return to the house and check. You two, however, will go to our hotel and wait for us.” Dean tossed us the keys

I caught them in one hand turning them over to read the hotel name off the tag and chose not to argue. I nodded at him and headed back towards the cars. Theresa and I drove straight to the hotel. I was silently ruminating over the day’s events while Theresa was hardly managing to sit still and rambling on about Sam. We found their room and let ourselves in. The room was basic, 2 queen beds, a lounge, table, chair and tv on one of those hotels’ typical built-in stands. The first thought through my head was I hope to God we don’t have to spend the night because I was not one to share a bed with a complete stranger and the lounge looked uninviting.

“Hay, which do you think is Sam's bed?” Theresa broke me from my thoughts.

“I don’t know. Why do you want to know?” I asked confused.

“I don’t know, I just want to lay on Sam's bed. He so cute, uh, I think I’m in love,” Theresa swooned, dropping into the chair.

“Oh, dear god, woman, you fall in love too quickly.” I rolled my eyes.

“I can’t help it. Did you see him? That man clearly looks after himself.” Theresa giggled.

“Yeah, and so does Dean, but you don’t see me swooning over him. I really don’t get you sometimes”.

I flopped onto the bed, squeezing my eyes shut against the relentless drone of Theresa's voice. Every syllable about Sam felt like a grating record needle stuck on repeat. All I craved was escape, the sweet oblivion of a normal life. Finish my acting degree, build a portfolio, disappear into the anonymity of a bustling city. A sharp rap on the door jolted me awake. Theresa, mid-sentence, pivoted toward the sound. Her smile faltered for a fleeting moment before she plastered it back on and cautiously cracked the door open. A hushed exchange followed, punctuated by muffled figures I couldn't quite see. Relief washed over me when I saw Dean and Sam enter the room. Their presence was a familiar anchor in this storm of emotions.

“You comfortable on my bed?” Dean asked a smirked on his face as he shed his leather jacket onto the foot of said bed.

“Very. I was having a nice little nap before you so rudely woke me up” I stretched out on the bed.

“Well, sorry, ma’am.” Dean laughed, giving a goofy salute.

“On to more serious things, we saw scorch marks at the house indicating that we may have gotten rid of this thing, but we would like you to stay here overnight just in case” Sam looked between us. Definitely the serious brother, I noted.

“Oh yeah, and where are we supposed to sleep?” I raised an eyebrow at him.

“You girls, take my bed. I’ll sleep on the couch,” Dean smiled.

“Are you sure?” I asked not wanting to be rude.

“Not the first time I slept in a chair won’t be the last” Dean shrugged “It’s kind of part of the job description”.

“You have a job description?” I joked.

“Not really we kind of just making it up as we go” Dean shrugged giving me a wink.

Theresa, ever the optimist, quickly engaged Sam in conversation. Her laughter, a welcome sound, filled the room. It was a stark contrast to the turmoil within me.

"Alright everyone, hold that thought," Dean boomed, his voice a welcome interruption. His stomach let out a loud rumble, punctuating his statement. "We all must be starving after that little...adventure. I'm gonna hit the shops for some supplies. Anything in particular tickle your fancy, y/n?"

“Buyers choice” I smiled at him, he winked back before leaving the room.

I rolled my eyes playfully as Theresa bombarded Sam with questions. Their easy banter was a testament to her ability to move on. "What happened, happened," she'd always say. Maybe she was right. Dwelling on it wouldn't change anything. I wrapped myself in Dean's blanket, the scent of his cologne and laundry detergent a strangely comforting reminder of normalcy. The weariness in my bones finally won over my racing thoughts, and I drifted back to sleep, the gentle murmur of conversation a lullaby in the background.

“Just making yourself right at home now, aren’t you?” Dean chuckled, walking in the door, startling me awake again.

“I’m tired. It’s been a long day, and part of me is hoping this is all a bad dream,” I groaned looking at the ceiling.

“Sorry, sweetheart, this pretty face is as real as it gets”, Dean shot me a cheesy grin. “Now get up and eat. Grubs getting cold.”

Dean dropped four bags of McDonalds on the table and almost immediately went to complaining about the tiny size of the burgers here and he had to order an obscene amount of them just to fill himself up. Sam just shook his head clearly; this was a complaint Sam had heard a few times too many. I on the other hand just pointed out that he could have gone to any of the fish and chip shops he had gone past on his way to McDonalds and brought a single burger like 4 times the size of the McDonalds ones. Dean being oh so mature put on a high-pitched voice mocking what I had said before murmuring shut-up and starting on the first of a stack of 6 burgers he had brought himself. I begrudgingly pulled myself out of the bed and made my way to the table. Dean had ordered burgers for me and Theresa and a salad for Sam. I gave Sam a questioning look as he murmured something about it being the healthier choice before walking away. Sam and Theresa went back to his bed where they continued their conversation while Dean and I ate in silence. I had taken a seat on the lounge and occasionally glanced up at Dean who would just smile at me with a mouth full of food. I would also catch him watching Sam and Theresa a small smile etched on his face like he was happy to see his brother happy. When Dean had finished the last of his burgers he stood up and started walking towards the bathroom.

“I’m going to shower and get ready to turn in it’s been a long day” Dean rubbed his face in exhaustion.

“Okay well Theresa did you want to catch a movie or something?” Sam asked looking at Theresa.

“Sure” Theresa bounced of the bed and practically ran at the door.

I followed Sam and Theresa out of the room so I could get the spare clothes out of my car that I carried around in there. It became a habit I picked up running from audition to audition to have a go bag in my car with anything in it I might need. I went back into the room and took the chance while Dean was in the bathroom to quickly change into a comfy pair of shorts and a loose shirt. I sat back on Dean's bed, but instead of laying down, I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the carpet as I continued to think about everything. Theresa seemed so comfortable and at home with the boys, but I just wanted this whole thing over. But the more I thought, the more I felt like I would never be able to go back to things as they were. Knowing what could be out there, I would always be a little on edge. If ghosts were real, then what else possibly existed? Vampires? Werewolves? What about all the silly kid stories like Bloody Mary and Candyman? Could they be real? I wanted to pretend that none of this had happened, but it’s not exactly something you can forget like a footnote. Like yeah, that shit happened, but let's just pack up and move on. At some point during my inner struggle Dean had finished his shower and made himself comfortable on the lounge. It wasn’t until Dean cleared his throat that I was snapped out of my thoughts.

“Okay, I’m not going to be able to sleep with you sitting on the edge of the bed like that. It’s kinda creepy. What's on your mind, kid?” Dean asked, sitting up on the lounge.

“Kid? I’ll have you know I’m 22, not exactly a kid anymore” I tried to joke looking over at Dean, noticing he was in nothing but a black t-shirt and black boxer briefs.

“Okay, sweetheart, doesn’t answer my question, though”, Dean smirked.

“How am I supposed to go back to life as it was knowing ghosts, and who knows what else is real?” I looked back at the floor. “What exactly does exist Dean? Vampires? Werewolves? Demons? Angels?” I rattled off a list of things randomly looking back up at him.

“Yeah, those and more” Dean chuckled dryly. “As for moving on the simple answer is you don’t. You just go on and try to live as normal as possible, knowing people like Sammy and I are out here hunting these things to keep you safe. Hopefully, that helps you sleep a little better at night.”

“Can you talk to me while we go to sleep?” I asked sheepishly.

“Of course, sweetheart”, He groaned as he laid back on the lounge. I finally laid down on the bed. Both of us staring at the ceiling as we talked.

“You never told me your last name,” I said it was a random question but anything to keep the conversation going and my mind busy.

“Winchester and yours?”.

“Y/l/n”.

“Well, now I know who to look up next time I’m in town”, Dean chuckled.

“How old are you anyway I mean clearly you’re the old sibling”

“Not too old to hit on a hottie like you” I could feel Dean's eyes on me as he spoke.

“Smooth Winchester” I tried to laugh, but it just sounded like an awkward giggle.

“31”

“You’re a real ladies' man, aren’t you, Dean Winchester” I smiled to the ceiling, getting taken by his charm.

“Yeah, well, when you have my lifestyle, you don’t exactly have the option of settling down, so you take what you can get.”

“No judgement here”

Dean and I laughed for what felt like hours. Under his tough exterior, he was adorable. I would be lying if I said I wouldn’t be sad to say goodbye tomorrow. My eyes could no longer fight to stay open, and I drifted to sleep listening to Dean singing Highway To Hell. The following morning, I woke to find the room completely empty. I got up and changed into something else from my go bag. Nothing fancy, just plain black jeans and a white tank top. I pulled on my boots and headed outside to check for the cars. My car was sitting where I parked it right before the door. Dean's car was gone, though. I pulled out my phone and rang Theresa guessing she was with them. I mean where else would she be, she couldn’t exactly get home without me. Rather than answer the phone she shot me a text message. Busy talking to Sam, we’re just down the road at the all you can eat. I rolled my eyes allowing myself to have a genuine laugh at her. I knew the place she was talking about. It was only 2 blocks away so who knows why Dean decided to drive. I left my car where it was and made the 5-minute walk. I felt a lot better than I had the night before. As much as it felt weird to put my trust in strangers, I really did trust Sam and Dean. Once I was outside the restaurant it didn’t take me long to spot them. Dean gave me a goofy wave through the window while sending me a ‘, please save me’ look. I giggled making my way into the restaurant and over to their table. "Hey guys," I said as I took a seat at the table. "Hey, sleepy head," Dean gave a big cheesy smile. "Hey", Theresa and Sam said in unison. "So, whose food can I steal," I said, tummy grumbling looking between the plates. "I made sure we paid for you too, you know just in case you decided to grace us with your presence” Dean smirked giving me a wink. "Thank you, such a gentleman" I gave him a wink back before heading to the food.

Dean followed me over with his almost empty plate. I could hear Sam call after him “Dude seriously are you still hungry”. I chuckled and shook my head at the brothers. Dean came to stand beside me as we loaded up our plates.

“So,” Dean said, putting way too much bacon on his plate “, I guess after this, we go our separate ways,” He said more of a statement than a question.

“I guess so”, I smiled at him. “But hey, you said you’d look me up next time you were in town, so don’t be a stranger now, you hear.”

“Yes, ma’am”, Dean chuckled “Just promise me you’ll go back to your normal life”.

“I promise” I smiled at him.

We had an excellent breakfast filled with conversation about what came next for Sam and Dean. They were headed back home to the US now the job was done. It seemed like this was goodbye forever. We finished our breakfast, and Dean drove us back to the hotel. Theresa and I packed up our things before giving them a heartfelt goodbye. We hopped in my car, going home back to life before the Winchesters. But we knew things would never be the same, not now. Some small piece of me hoped I would see the Winchesters again.

My Upcoming WIPs!

You suddenly decided to take the leap with Don Flack on a whim. In less then a week you'll be living together, with a child and your father Mac Taylors disapproval. This is certainly not how your suppose to start a relationship.

Your a firefighter with the 118. Your engaged to Evan Buckley who you've been madly in love with for 4 years. Life is perfect. That is until a late night in the fire house sees a spark between you and your Captain Bobby Nash who happens to be a married man.

When the new firefighter in the house Eddie Diaz becomes best friends with your boyfriend Evan Buckley you can't help but notice a change in him. A bad change. Late nights and hushed conversations are just the beginning of this thrill ride.

Objection! Part 4

Rafael Barba x fem!Carisi!reader

3.2k word count

Summary All you wanted was to be a lawyer like your big brother Sonny. So what happens when you get a job working under the famous ADA Rafael Barba

slow-burn, colleague to friends to lovers

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

I kept a steady pace as I navigated the crowded sidewalks, my breath visible in the cool morning air. 7:24 AM. Twelve blocks to go, but I was determined to get to the precinct on time—if not early. Today, I had to show up sharp, like the professional I aimed to be.

A quick glance at my watch made me quicken my stride. I wasn’t just going to make it; I was going to be early. Prepared. Polished. Ready for anything. By 7:55, I rushed through the precinct doors. In the elevator, I took a moment to smooth myself down, hoping to hide any trace of the near sprint across New York.

Stepping into the bullpen, I nearly tripped over my own feet. Rafael emerged from Olivia's office, laughing at something, Olivia walking beside him.

“Morning, y/n. Nice of you to join us,” Rafael greeted me with an easy smile.

“Good morning, Rafael. I thought you said to meet at 8?” I asked, glancing at my watch.

“I did. And you're right on time,” he said, his grin widening. “We’ve got a perp waiting in interrogation. Let’s not keep him waiting.”

Before I could ask any questions, Rafael placed a hand on the small of my back, steering me toward the interrogation room. Inside, he motioned for me to take a seat, then sat down beside me. Across the table, I recognized Rita Calhoun. The man next to her, clearly the suspect, shifted nervously in his chair, eyes darting between the three of us.

The look on his face could only be described as pants-shitting terror.

"Who’s this? A new detective eager to get their toes wet or…"

"ADA Y/n Carisi," I cut Rita off before she could finish. "I’ll be assisting ADA Barba and SVU for the foreseeable future."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Rafael smirk.

"Not related to Detective Carisi, I hope," Calhoun glanced between Rafael and Olivia, a smirk tugging at her lips. "We all know he unfairly detained my client. This could be seen as a cover-up."

"Your client walked out of his room into the common area during a search, holding a sizable bag of cannabis. I fail to see where Carisi went wrong," Rafael replied, leaning back in his chair, his smirk widening. "But let's not dwell on the past. All we want is information on your roommate. If the information’s good, we can look past the drugs."

Rita looked at each of us, searching for confirmation that we agreed with Rafael. I took the file Olivia had placed on the table, slid it toward the man—whose name I still didn’t know—and hit record.

"You can start by stating your name, the date, and that we’ve reached an agreement," I said, offering him a reassuring smile.

He glanced nervously at Calhoun, swallowed hard, and began.

"M-my name’s L-Lester Hollis. It’s the 15th of January, 2013," he stammered.

For the next two hours, Lester spilled everything he knew about his roommate. Anthony Cutler, a man with a disturbing fondness for young girls. And Lester, it seemed, had a fondness for spying on people. If it weren’t for the drug dealing, he might’ve made a decent detective. The information he handed over was more than Olivia had expected; she stood in the corner, stunned by the sheer amount he laid out for us on a silver platter.

When Lester finally ran out of things to say, he glanced between us, still just as terrified as when we began.

"I-I-I don’t know any more, I swear," he stammered, eyes pleading with me.

"I believe you," I said, leaning back from the table, still processing everything I’d just heard.

"So... am I free to go?" He looked nervously between Rita and the rest of us.

"Calhoun, why don't you show your client out," I said, turning to Rita. "And don’t forget—make sure he’s available for trial."

Rafael smirked as Rita stood, pulling a shaky Lester to his feet. Olivia followed them out, still in a daze from the flood of information.

Once the door shut behind them, Rafael turned to me, smiling. "I must say, y/n, I’m impressed. You're the first new lawyer I've seen go toe-to-toe with Rita Calhoun so confidently."

"Did I do something wrong?" I asked, a twinge of panic rising.

"Not at all. In fact, I admire your bravery—it’ll serve you well. Just be sure you don’t over reach or get too overly confident."

He stood, motioning for me to follow him out of the room. "For now, we've got to head to Rikers. Olivia’s perp from yesterday needs a visit, we’ve got court at 1, and after that, we’ll go over the new cases Carisi left for us."

I nodded, falling in step behind Rafael as he strode confidently out of the precinct.

…

Sonny’s P.O.V

I shuffled nervously at my desk, tapping my pen against the surface. I’d seen y/n come in, only to be immediately pulled into interrogation by Barba and Liv. My eyes stayed glued to the door, waiting for them to come out. Ten minutes turned into an hour. One hour into two. I could hear Amanda and Amaro talking nearby, but their words barely registered.

When the door finally opened, I jumped in my seat. Rita walked briskly across the room with Lester in tow, Liv following close behind. Lester looked terrified—definitely not a good sign. The fact that Barba had stayed behind with y/n only made the knot in my stomach worse.

I was about to get up and head toward the interrogation room when Barba finally emerged, y/n walking quickly beside him, grinning from ear to ear. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding and turned back to my half-abandoned report, trying to focus.

“Gee, looks like I might be out of luck with that one,” Amaro chuckled from his desk across from me.

“God damn it, man. Always taking my money,” Fin groaned, standing up to slap a $20 bill into Amaro’s outstretched hand.

"Wait—were you betting on whether you could sleep with my sister?" I snapped at Amaro before I could stop myself.

"Actually, he was betting on whether she’s crushing on Barba," Amanda chimed in with a knowing smile. "And from the way she was looking at him..."

“Barba? My sister?" I scoffed, crossing my arms. "No way. Sure, she admires the guy, but he’s got like 15 years on her.”

"Denial’s not just a river in Egypt," Fin chuckled.

…

Y/N’s P.O.V

I sat quietly, my fingers laced together on my lap, as Rafael conducted the interrogation. We were inside the cold, sterile walls of Rikers, the oppressive weight of the place settling over me. The inmate sat across from us, his hands cuffed, a mix of desperation and calculation in his eyes. I had been briefed, but not in enough detail to know the full extent of the charges. That lack of certainty kept me from speaking, from throwing my voice into the tense negotiation. I wasn’t about to risk making a deal if the information didn’t live up to the inmate’s demands—and there was a lot on the line.

From what I could gather as the conversation progressed, the man was angling for a reduced sentence and a transfer to a more secure cell. In return, he dangled the promise of a list—a list of men and women involved in a child trafficking ring, exploiting kids for cheap household labor. The thought of it made my stomach churn. The details were grim, and I could feel my pulse quicken with every word that passed between him and Rafael. But I forced myself to remain composed, knowing this was just the beginning of what I’d have to deal with in this line of work.

Rafael, as always, was unfazed. His posture was relaxed, his expression unreadable as he leaned forward, elbows on the table, engaging the inmate with a calm, almost disarming professionalism. His focus was clear—he wasn’t interested in the middlemen or low-level traffickers the man was offering. Rafael wanted the head of the ring, the person running the entire operation. The way he methodically steered the conversation in that direction, never losing his patience or control, was impressive to watch.

But the inmate, shifting uncomfortably in his chair, insisted that he didn’t know who ran the operation—only who to contact when someone wanted to request children. The idea that this could be a known process, with specific contacts for placing “orders” like they were talking about goods instead of lives, made my skin crawl. I could feel the disgust rising in me, a sick feeling coiling in my gut. I wanted to speak, to call out the horror of it all, but I knew that wasn’t my place, not yet. I was here to learn, to observe, and to support Rafael in whatever way he needed. For now, that meant silence.

As the interrogation dragged on, I found myself studying Rafael more than the inmate. He didn’t flinch. Not once. His questions were sharp, deliberate, cutting through the inmate’s evasions like a scalpel. He pushed, but never too hard—just enough to keep the man talking, to pry open the cracks in his defenses. And while I sat there, fighting the urge to fidget or let my expression betray the revulsion I felt, Rafael remained a picture of control. It amazed me. How did he do it? How did he manage to listen to this kind of filth without letting any of it get under his skin? I imagined it was something he had learned over years of practice—years of dealing with the worst humanity had to offer.

Meanwhile, I could feel the disgust written all over my face, my clenched jaw, the tightness in my chest. I wasn’t as good at hiding it, not yet. Maybe I never would be. But I knew this was something I’d have to learn. If I wanted to make a difference, if I wanted to be the kind of lawyer who could stand in these rooms and fight for justice, I couldn’t let the horror of it all show. I couldn’t let them see how much it affected me.

Still, it was hard. Harder than I expected.

The exchange finally ended without a clear resolution. The inmate remained insistent—he didn’t know the head of the operation, just the contacts. Rafael leaned back in his chair, his expression still unreadable, as if the conversation hadn’t rattled him in the slightest. For him, this was just another day on the job, another piece of the puzzle to be fit into place.

For me, though, it was a stark reminder of what this job would demand. Not just the legal knowledge or the courtroom battles, but the emotional endurance. The ability to look evil in the eye and not let it break you.

As we left the interrogation room, the weight of the situation lingered with me. Even after we’d passed through the heavy steel doors of Rikers, the silence between Rafael and me felt thick with unspoken thoughts. I stayed quiet, still processing everything I’d heard, still trying to understand how to do this—how to keep myself from being consumed by the disgust, the anger, the frustration.

Rafael didn’t speak either as we climbed into the car. But as we drove toward the courthouse, his voice finally broke the silence, soft yet firm.

"I know you're probably thinking about a hot shower and scrubbing your skin raw," Rafael broke the silence, his voice soft. "Your skin’s crawling in disgust, but... this is the job."

He glanced at me, and I met his eyes.

"I know," I said, offering a small smile. "And it's a job I want to do—to the best of my ability. I’m not running away."

"Good," Rafael smiled back. "Because out of all the lawyers I've worked with, you're the first one I truly believe deserves to be here. You're going to do well, I know it. Which is why I want you to take over as first chair today."

My heart skipped a beat. "Oh no, Rafael, I can’t—especially not against Buchanan."

"If you can stand your ground against Calhoun, you can handle Buchanan." He gave me a reassuring nod. "I have faith in you."

We pulled up in front of the courthouse, the taxi coming to a halt amidst the chaos of flashing cameras and reporters. Rafael climbed out first, stepping onto the curb with his usual confidence, then offered me his hand. I took it, feeling the reassuring warmth of his grip as he helped me out of the car. The sight of the courthouse steps, now swarmed with media, made my stomach tighten. Buchanan was already in the thick of it, standing tall in front of the cameras, his smarmy grin plastered across his face as he used this case to grandstand, soaking up the attention like a seasoned showman.

Seeing him surrounded by microphones, using a case as serious as this for his own ego, sparked something hot inside me—anger, maybe something more. I stole a glance at Rafael, who, of course, noticed. He shot me a knowing smile, as if he could sense the fire building in me.

Buchanan always played dirty, but this—turning the courthouse steps into a circus—felt like a new low. My jaw clenched. Today, I would make sure he lost. Spectacularly.

Rafael placed a steady hand on my back, guiding me up the stone steps. The media, sensing our arrival, immediately swarmed toward us, the noise escalating as reporters shouted for statements, their cameras flashing like a storm. I could hear them calling Rafael’s name, asking about the case, but he waved them off with a practiced nonchalance. He never let them faze him, and I admired that calm. We kept moving forward, cutting through the chaos, when Buchanan spotted us.

His eyes lit up with curiosity as they flicked over to me. He leaned into his performance, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Barba! Who’s this beautiful woman you’ve got on your arm? Have you gotten such a big head that you need an assistant to keep you in line now?"

The reporters snickered, and Buchanan laughed at his own joke, like the slimy opportunist he was. I felt the heat rise in me, but instead of letting it rattle me, I channeled it. I turned on my heels, straightening my spine.

"ADA Y/n Carisi, Mr. Buchanan," I said, my voice clear and firm. "And I look forward to taking you down a notch in court today—with ADA Barba as my second chair."

A ripple of surprise passed through the media. The cameras and questions instantly shifted from Barba to Buchanan, now the one under the spotlight, as reporters scrambled to get his reaction. They pounced, asking if he knew anything about me and whether he was prepared to face off against a fresh ADA. Buchanan’s smirk faltered just a touch, but Rafael stood to the side with his signature cheeky grin, clearly enjoying the shift in power dynamics.

"See?" Rafael chuckled, falling in step beside me as we continued up the steps. "I told you—you can handle Buchanan."

"The man’s a slimeball," I muttered, shaking my head, though a smile tugged at my lips. "He’s good at his job, I’ll give him that, but still a slimeball. I’m actually looking forward to putting him in his place today."

"I have no doubt you will," Rafael said with a knowing smile, opening the courthouse doors for me.

The cool, quiet air of the courthouse washed over us as we stepped inside, a stark contrast to the chaos of the media circus outside. It was time to get to work. The case ahead of us wasn’t complex—small enough that the media frenzy around it seemed excessive, but we both knew Buchanan loved playing to the crowd, no matter the stakes.

We walked side by side into the courtroom and took our places at the assigned table. Across from us, Buchanan sat with his defendant, the confidence practically dripping off him. I could feel Rafael’s eyes on me, his silent support clear. He leaned back in his chair and gave me a look that said, You’ve got this.

When Judge Donnelly entered the room, I felt a surge of relief. I knew her reputation—fair, tough, and not one to suffer grandstanding lightly. I hit the jackpot. She would detest Buchanan’s cocky demeanor, and from what I’d gathered about the case, she’d likely be sympathetic to the victim. All I needed to do was present a solid argument, and I was confident we could sway the jury.

Judge Donnelly settled into her chair, her sharp gaze sweeping across the room. “Mr. Barba, I see you’re taking second chair today,” she said, arching a brow in Rafael’s direction.

“Yes, your honor,” Rafael replied with a nod.

“And who’s taking lead?” She looked over at me, her gaze expectant.

I straightened in my seat, feeling a mixture of nerves and determination. “ADA Y/n Carisi, your honor,” I said, injecting as much confidence into my voice as I could muster.

Judge Donnelly eyed me for a moment, her gaze steady and appraising. “Don’t get cocky now, young blood,” she said, her tone firm but not unkind. She then turned to Rafael. “Mr. Barba, do you trust her to prosecute this case?”

“I do, your honor,” he said, flashing me a supportive smile.

She nodded. “Alright then, let’s get this show started.” She leaned back in her chair and motioned for me to begin.

And so, the battle began. I rose to my feet, heart pounding but adrenaline fueling me. I launched into my opening argument with passion, presenting our case to the jury. I made sure to emphasize that while the victim was a sex worker, that didn’t make her any less deserving of justice. No one deserved to be assaulted. I highlighted how we could prove, without a doubt, that this wasn’t the first time the defendant had committed such an act.

Buchanan, predictably, went low. He pushed his tired argument about sex workers being unreliable witnesses, claiming the victim had only pressed charges because his client hadn’t paid the agreed amount. It was despicable, and I could feel my frustration mounting every time he opened his mouth. But I stayed focused, refuting his points and driving home the evidence. The jury wasn’t buying his argument, and it became clear, as the hours passed, that Buchanan had lost them.

By 6 p.m., the jury returned with a verdict: guilty.

A wave of triumph washed over me. In the heat of the moment, I almost threw my arms around Rafael, but I caught myself just in time, opting instead for a firm handshake. Our client, however, wasn’t as restrained. She hugged both of us tightly, tears of relief streaming down her face before practically running out of the courtroom, finally free of her nightmare.

Rafael and I gathered our things and headed back to his office. It was late, but despite the long day, I was still buzzing with energy, the adrenaline pushing me forward. We had more cases waiting, and I was eager to dive in—at least until the high wore off. Then, I knew I’d want nothing more than to head home and collapse.

Tag List!

@geeksareunique @pinkladydevotee