Supernatural, Hunting, Living And Love (Revisited) Part 2

It's should by a crime how sweet Rob, Richard and Elizabeth are! I also got to meet Jared and Jensen and get their autographs and well we all know how awesome our boys are!

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love Part 17

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

4.1k word count

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings none

Authors Note: 3 chapters to go!

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

I sat cross-legged on the bed, the weight of Cas’s words pressing heavily on my chest. Dean was sitting across from me, his brows furrowed as he listened to me recount every detail of what the angel had said. I could barely look at him, afraid of how he might react.

When I finished, there was a long pause. Finally, Dean sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Look, about the Nephilim thing... I already knew.”

My head snapped up. “What?”

“Cas told me a while ago,” he admitted, his voice low. “He thought I should know, in case it ever... came up. But I didn’t think it mattered. You’re still you, Y/N. Nephilim or not.”

I stared at him, a mix of emotions swirling in my chest. “You didn’t think I deserved to know?”

Dean winced. “I figured it’d just freak you out, and you’ve had enough on your plate. I was gonna tell you eventually, I swear.”

I sighed, rubbing my temples. “And the pregnancy thing?”

“That,” he said with a dry laugh, “I’m pretty sure is Cas being Gods good little soldier. He’d do anything that guy says. But if it’s really bugging you, we can grab a pregnancy test and settle it.”

I shook my head, feeling a strange mixture of relief and frustration. “You’re probably right. It’s just Cas being... weird.” I hesitated before adding, “Let’s just forget about it for now.”

Dean nodded, his hand reaching out to squeeze mine. “Good call.”

I let myself lean back into the pillows, forcing the thoughts to the back of my mind. It wasn’t easy, but with Dean’s steady presence beside me, sleep eventually came.

…

The next morning, I was jolted awake by a loud banging on the bedroom door.

“Y/N! Dean! Wake up!” Theresa’s voice was practically vibrating with excitement.

Dean groaned, rolling over to glance at the clock on the nightstand. “It’s 10:30,” he grumbled. “What could possibly be so exciting at 10:30 in the morning?”

Before either of us could get out of bed, the door burst open, and Theresa stood there, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“I’m pregnant!” she blurted, her grin so wide it could’ve lit up the room.

I blinked at her, the words taking a moment to sink in. Dean sat up straighter, his face a mix of shock and confusion.

“Pregnant?” he repeated, his voice flat.

Theresa nodded eagerly. “Yes! I just took the test. Sam and I are having a baby!”

The silence that followed was heavy but only lasted a beat before I broke into a wide smile. “Oh my god, Theresa! That’s amazing!”

I jumped out of bed, wrapping her in a tight hug as her excitement became infectious.

Dean sat there, still looking stunned. “Congrats,” he managed, his voice laced with a kind of bemused awe.

Theresa pulled back from the hug, her eyes bright with happy tears. “Thanks! I just had to tell you guys first!”

As she babbled on about telling Sam and their plans, I couldn’t help but glance back at Dean. His expression softened as his gaze met mine, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips.

For the first time in a long time, things felt... good. Even with all the uncertainty hanging in the air, this moment was pure joy.

…

Theresa from the moment she told us hadn’t stopped talking about dragging me shopping to put together a gift for Sam to announce the pregnancy.

Theresa practically dragged me from one store to another, her excitement bubbling over as she picked up tiny baby clothes, soft booties, and pacifiers, holding each one up for my opinion. I couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm, even if the topic of babies brought an unsettling knot to my stomach.

“This is so cute, isn’t it?” Theresa asked, holding up a pale-yellow onesie with little ducks on it.

“Adorable,” I replied, my voice light even though my thoughts were far from the conversation.

By the time lunchtime rolled around, we had a few small items in hand, ready to put together a gift to announce her pregnancy to Sam. Just before we were about to head out, Theresa suddenly stopped.

“Wait, I need to pop into the pharmacy,” she said, gripping her stomach lightly. “This morning sickness thing... I’m not sure ginger cookies and ginger ale are gonna cut it no matter what Google says.”

“Of course,” I said, following her inside.

While Theresa chatted with the pharmacist about options, I found myself wandering down the aisles. My feet carried me to the pregnancy test section before I even realized where I was.

The shelves were lined with boxes in bright colours, each claiming to be the most accurate. My hand hovered over one, my heart pounding. I glanced back to make sure Theresa was still preoccupied, then quickly grabbed a box and shoved it into my pocket.

“Ready to go?” Theresa asked cheerfully, appearing behind me with a small bag in her hand.

“Yep,” I said, forcing a smile.

As we walked out, Theresa caught the scent of garlic bread wafting from a nearby restaurant. “Oh my god, we have to eat here,” she said, practically drooling.

I laughed. “Garlic bread it is.”

We found a small table by the window and placed our orders. The knot in my stomach tightened as I excused myself to go to the restroom.

Inside the stall, my hands trembled as I opened the box. The instructions were simple enough, but my nerves made everything feel harder than it should have been.

Minutes later, I stared at the small screen, holding my breath.

Negative.

A wave of relief washed over me, so strong I had to sit for a moment to steady myself. I tucked the test into the little trash bin and washed my hands, staring at my reflection in the mirror.

“Get it together,” I muttered to myself.

When I returned to the table, Theresa was happily munching on her garlic bread. “This is the best thing ever,” she declared, holding up a piece for emphasis.

I chuckled, sitting back down. “I take it we’re ordering more for the bunker?”

“Absolutely.”

As we ate, the conversation shifted to Sam’s gift. We brainstormed ways to wrap it, deciding on a small box with tissue paper and a handwritten note.

Theresa brought up pregnancy care, casually waving off the concern. “I’m sure we’ll figure something out,” she said, popping a piece of bread into her mouth.

I nodded, but her nonchalant attitude left me wondering. I made a mental note to look into options for her later.

By the time we left the restaurant, the heavy weight on my chest had eased. Theresa’s joy was infectious, for a moment I let myself believe that maybe just maybe Cas was wrong, that maybe he was just saying what God wanted him to.

Just as we were about to leave the restaurant my phone buzzed dragging me away from our conversation.

“Oh well looks like our plans are on hold” I sighed looking at the text “Dean messaged, apparently the holidays over”

…

 We sat around the war room table, maps and files spread out in front of us as Dean leaned back in his chair, tossing a pen between his fingers.

“Just got off the phone with Bobby,” Dean said. “He says there’s something weird going down in a little town called Centerville, Pennsylvania. Looks like a couple of demons are running the place, setting up some kind of... meatsuit recruitment drive. At least fourteen people have gone missing after passing through.”

I frowned, leaning forward to study the map of Centerville. “Fourteen? That’s a lot, even for demons. What’s Bobby think they’re planning?”

Dean shrugged. “He’s not sure. Could be they’re stockpiling bodies for something bigger, but whatever it is, we’re gonna shut it down.”

“Sounds like a solid lead,” Sam said, pulling out his notebook and jotting down a few details.

Dean turned to Theresa, his tone firm. “You’re sitting this one out.”

Theresa’s eyes widened. “What? Why? I’m perfectly capable—”

“He’s right,” I interrupted, giving her a meaningful look. “You should stay behind, and we’ll call Bobby to come hang out with you.”

Theresa’s confusion mirrored Sam’s as he glanced between us. “Okay, what’s going on?”

Theresa hesitated, then reached into her bag, pulling out a small gift box she’d carefully prepared on the way back from town. She slid it across the table toward Sam, her excitement bubbling just beneath the surface.

Sam took the box, his brows furrowing as he opened it. Inside were the baby items we’d picked out: the tiny onesie, a pacifier, and a positive pregnancy test.

For a moment, he just stared, as if his brain needed an extra second to catch up. Then his face broke into a grin so wide it was almost comical. “You’re... you’re pregnant?”

Theresa nodded, her smile just as wide.

Sam was out of his chair in a second, pulling her into a tight hug. “Oh my god, this is incredible!” he said, his voice full of unrestrained joy.

Theresa laughed, hugging him back. “I was gonna tell you last night, but the timing didn’t feel right.”

Dean cleared his throat, his expression softening as he watched the moment. “And that’s why you’re staying behind. No way we’re risking you and the baby out there with demons.”

Sam nodded quickly, turning to Theresa. “Dean’s right. It’s too dangerous.”

Theresa’s smile faltered. “I’m not helpless, you know.”

“We know,” I said gently, reaching out to touch her hand. “But this isn’t just about you anymore. And Bobby will make sure nothing happens here while we’re gone.”

Theresa sighed, crossing her arms. “Fine. But I’m not happy about it.”

Dean smirked. “Noted.”

Within the hour, the Impala was packed, and the three of us hit the road to Pennsylvania. As I settled into the seat beside Dean, I glanced back at Theresa, who stood in the doorway of the bunker, Sam’s arm draped protectively around her shoulders.

We had a job to do, but part of me already couldn’t wait to come back.

…

After what felt like an eternity on the road, we finally rolled into Centerville under the cover of darkness. The town had a strange vibe—quiet, too quiet for a place that had a growing reputation for disappearances.

“Motels are a no-go,” Dean said, scanning the town as we drove through. “Too many eyes.”

Sam pointed to a dilapidated house on the edge of town, its windows boarded up and the lawn overgrown. “That’ll work. Looks abandoned.”

Dean turned the Impala into the dirt driveway, parking beside a rusted shed attached to the house. We all piled out, stretching and shaking off the stiffness from the long drive.

“Hide her in there,” Dean said, nodding toward the shed.

Together, we pushed the Impala inside, closing the rickety doors behind us. The house itself was better than I’d expected, but not by much. The inside smelled like dust and decay, and the floorboards creaked with every step.

“It’s got charm,” I said dryly, earning a snort from Dean.

“We’ll make it work,” Sam said, tossing his bag onto what might have once been a couch. “Let’s head into town, see what we can dig up.”

We cleaned up quickly and headed out, walking toward the town center under the dim glow of streetlights. Centerville looked like any other small town, but something felt... off.

Our investigation eventually led us to a bar that seemed to be the social hub for visitors. Inside, the air was thick with cigarette smoke and the low hum of conversation. A pool table sat in the corner, and a jukebox played a classic rock tune that barely drowned out the sound of clinking glasses.

We split up, each taking a different approach to questioning the locals. I struck up a conversation with the bartender, a wiry man with a skeptical gaze.

“Strangers roll through here often?” I asked casually, leaning on the bar.

He shrugged, wiping a glass. “Not much to see in Centerville. Most don’t stick around long.”

“What about the ones who do?”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “Why you asking?”

“Just curious,” I said with a smile, trying to put him at ease.

Eventually, the bartender opened up. He and a couple of locals confirmed they’d seen the same couple hanging around the bar regularly—a man and a woman who had apparently blown into town about a year ago and never left. They’d made themselves at home, which was unusual in a town like this.

Dean joined me at the bar, a cold beer in his hand. “They sound like our demons,” he muttered under his breath.

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Sam said, appearing behind us. “But it’s definitely worth looking into.”

We stayed a little longer, gathering more details about the mysterious couple before heading back to the abandoned house. The pieces were starting to come together, but we still had more questions than answers.

…

The house was eerily quiet as we settled in for the night. The faint creak of the wind brushing against the boarded-up windows added to the atmosphere. Sam and Dean were in the small, makeshift living room, pouring over maps and the notes we’d scribbled down from the bar. I sat cross-legged on a tattered armchair, watching as they hashed out tomorrow’s plan.

“We need to figure out where they’ve been taking these people,” Sam said, tapping his pen against the map.

Dean grunted. “Yeah, but waltzing into their hideout isn’t exactly easy. They’ve been here a year. They know the lay of the land better than we do.”

Sam leaned back, crossing his arms. “That’s why we need to split up. Y/N should approach them. Alone.”

Dean’s head snapped up, his jaw tightening. “No way. Not happening.”

Sam held up a hand. “Hear me out. They’ve been targeting strangers, right? Someone who seems like they don’t have ties. If Y/N plays the part of a solo traveler, it could get them to drop their guard.”

I stayed quiet, letting them argue. Dean’s protectiveness was nothing new, but this was different. His shoulders were tense, his voice edged with something more than frustration—it was fear.

“And what if it’s a trap?” Dean shot back, glaring at Sam.

“It’s always a trap, Dean,” I said, finally speaking up. “We’re hunters. That’s the job.”

Dean turned to me, his eyes softening but still filled with worry. “I don’t like this.”

“I can handle myself,” I said firmly.

Sam nodded. “We’ll be nearby the whole time. If anything happens, we’ll step in.”

Dean rubbed his face, letting out a frustrated sigh. “Fine. But the second anything feels off, you’re out. Got it?”

I nodded. “Got it.”

With the plan decided, we started preparing for the next day. I packed a small bag with essentials—my knife, a flask of holy water, and a few other tools of the trade. Dean handed me an emergency burner phone, his fingers brushing mine longer than necessary.

“Use it the second something goes wrong,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“Promise,” I replied.

As the night wore on, we all settled into our makeshift sleeping arrangements. Dean and I took the slightly less destroyed bedroom, though the mattress on the floor left a lot to be desired. Sam claimed the couch, his long legs awkwardly dangling over the edge.

Lying next to Dean in the dark, I could feel the tension radiating off him. His breathing was steady, but I knew sleep wouldn’t come easy for him tonight.

“Dean,” I whispered.

“Yeah?”

“We’ll figure this out. Together.”

He didn’t say anything, but his hand reached out, finding mine in the darkness. He gave it a gentle squeeze.

“I know”

…

The plan was in motion the moment I stepped into the bar. The air smelled of stale beer and desperation, a fitting backdrop for what I was about to do. Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I took a seat at the counter, making sure to appear as if I didn’t have a care in the world. My eyes darted around briefly, taking in the patrons. I spotted Sam a few minutes later, casually perched at the opposite end of the bar, his head down like he was nursing a bad day. Dean, much to his displeasure, was waiting outside in the Impala, ready to spring into action.

The bar door creaked open, and in walked the couple. Even without seeing their eyes flash black, I knew. The energy around them was unmistakable—dark, predatory. They carried themselves with the confidence of predators circling their prey.

I felt their gazes lock onto me almost immediately. My heart pounded in my chest, but I didn’t let it show. I picked up my drink and took a casual sip, pretending not to notice them as they approached.

The man slid onto the stool to my right, the woman to my left, effectively boxing me in. “Well, hey there,” the man said, his voice smooth but with an undercurrent that made my skin crawl. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?”

I turned my head slightly, giving him a small, shy smile. “Just passing through,” I said, keeping my voice light and friendly.

The woman leaned in, her perfume almost choking me. “Passing through? Someone like you must have places to be, people to see.”

I shook my head. “Not really. Just… trying to figure out where I’m going next.”

“Perfect,” the man said, his grin widening. “We might be able to help with that. You see, my partner and I—” he gestured to the woman with a nod “—work for a modeling agency. Talent scouts. And, well…” He looked me up and down, his gaze lingering uncomfortably. “You’ve got the look.”

My stomach churned, but I forced a surprised laugh. “Me? Modeling? I don’t know…”

The woman placed a hand on my arm, her touch cold despite the warmth of the bar. “You’ve got it, trust me. We’ve got a studio just outside town. Free shoot, no strings attached. Just to see if you’d be a good fit.”

I hesitated, playing my part. “I don’t know. I mean, I’ve never done anything like that before.”

“That’s the beauty of it,” the man said, his tone dripping with fake enthusiasm. “Fresh faces. Untapped potential.”

I looked between them, feigning a mix of doubt and intrigue. “Alright. Why not?”

The woman clapped her hands together, her smile too wide. “Fantastic. Let’s head out.”

I glanced toward the exit briefly, knowing Dean was just outside, then picked up my bag and followed them out of the bar. As we walked to their car, I caught Sam’s reflection in the bar mirror. His jaw was tight, his fingers twitching, ready to act if needed.

The couple led me to a black sedan parked a few spaces away. The man opened the back door for me, gesturing for me to get in.

I climbed in, clutching my bag tightly. The moment the door shut, I felt the weight of their eyes on me, and I forced myself to focus. This was just the beginning. Dean and Sam wouldn’t be far. Whatever came next, I wasn’t alone—even if I had to act like I was.

I sat in the back of the black sedan, watching as the town disappeared behind us. The ride was long, the demons making small talk, keeping up their act as professional talent scouts. I played along, feigning excitement and nervousness, while my mind stayed focused on the mission.

The farmhouse they took me to was beautiful, the kind of place that would make anyone believe this was a legitimate opportunity. Inside, they led me to a professional-looking studio, complete with backdrops, bright lights, and a rack of designer clothes.

For two hours, they ran the whole con—switching my outfits, styling my hair, touching up my makeup. They directed me through various poses, snapping pictures as if this was just another day in the life of a budding model. It was almost impressive how much effort they put into the charade. Almost.

At the end of it, they smiled, nodding approvingly.

“You’re perfect,” the woman cooed, brushing a stray curl from my face.

“Absolutely,” the man agreed. “We’ll put you up for the night, and first thing in the morning, someone will take you to New York to sign the contracts.”

I widened my eyes in fake excitement. “Really? Oh my god, this is insane!”

The woman smiled. “I know. You’ll be a star.”

They led me to a cozy-looking bedroom, complete with a plush bed and a window overlooking the fields. The moment the door clicked shut behind them, I dropped the act.

I moved cautiously, making sure I wasn’t being watched. Then, I pulled out my phone and typed a message to Dean and Sam.

Demons running a long con. Getting people out of town with the modeling scam. They plan to move me to NYC in the morning. No sign of the other victims yet. What’s the plan?

Dean’s reply was almost instant.

We’re pulling you out. Letting Bobby know their next stop. Sit tight. We’re coming.

I let out a slow breath. Good. I had no doubt they’d come for me, but still, something in my gut felt off.

…

Dean and Sam broke into the house as quietly as possible. The plan was simple—get in, take the demons by surprise, and get out before anyone knew what hit them.

But something went wrong.

I heard the scuffle from my room—the heavy thuds of bodies colliding, the crash of furniture breaking. My heart pounded as I cracked the door open just in time to see Sam wrestling the female demon, chanting an exorcism.

And then I saw Dean.

Or rather, I saw the way his body jerked unnaturally, his back arching as the male demon forced its way inside him. His green eyes flashed black.

My breath caught in my throat. “No.”

He turned his head slowly, those black eyes locking onto me with a cruel smirk. “Well, well,” the demon purred, rolling Dean’s shoulders like he was settling into a new suit. “This is… cozy.”

“Dean.” My voice shook. “I know you’re in there. You have to fight it.”

The demon laughed, stepping closer. “Oh sweetheart, he’s fighting all right. But he won’t win.”

Sam had finished his exorcism, the female demon shrieking as she burned away. Now he turned to me, panic in his eyes.

“Y/N, get back!”

But I couldn’t move. Not when Dean’s possessed body lunged at me.

I barely had time to react before I was pinned against his chest, held between Dean and Sam. Deans hunting knife was held to my throat. I was looking at Sam as tears pricked my eyes.

I gasped, clawing at his wrist, my heart hammering. “Dean,” I choked out. “Please… you can fight this.”

His grip faltered for the briefest second, his expression twisting in pain. “Y/N…” Dean’s voice broke through, hoarse and strained.

The demon snarled, trying to regain control, but I felt the flicker of resistance in Dean’s arms.

“That’s it,” I whispered. “You’re stronger than him. You’re stronger.”

Dean clenched his jaw, his whole body shaking as he fought the demon inside him. Then, with an agonized roar, his head snapped back, and a thick cloud of black smoke erupted from his mouth, disappearing through the nearest vent.

Dean collapsed to his knees, gasping for breath.

I didn’t hesitate. I dropped down beside him, wrapping my arms around him in a tight, desperate hug. “I thought I was gonna lose you,” I sobbed, clutching onto him like he might disappear.

He exhaled shakily, his arms circling me just as tightly. “I’m here,” he murmured. “I’m right here.”

…

Back at the abandoned house, we packed up in silence, the weight of the failed hunt pressing down on us.

Sam was on the phone with Bobby, explaining what had happened, his voice tight with frustration. “One got away… Yeah, we’ll head back to the bunker…can we talk about this later”

I sat in the Impala, my hands still trembling slightly. The reality of what had happened hadn’t fully sunk in yet. Dean had almost—

I shook my head, shutting the thought down. He was here. He was okay.

Dean slid into the backseat beside me, pulling me against him. “You’re shaking,” he murmured.

I let out a weak laugh. “Yeah, well. Watching you get possessed kinda does that to a girl.”

His arms tightened around me, his lips pressing a soft kiss to my hair. “I’m okay. We’re okay.”

I nodded, closing my eyes as the Impala rumbled to life.

The road stretched ahead of us, a long 17 hours back to the bunker. But for now, I let myself breathe, let myself believe that, at least for the moment, we were safe.

So just sitting around working on the next part of The Dating Odyssey when I got distracted by a TikTok notification telling me Sam and Colby had posted. This then led to almost an hour of me just spinning in circles on my computer chair thinking about how Sam and Colby are currently in Australia and how I would love to meet them and then daydreaming about meeting them and becoming friends with them which gave me another story idea. So onto the already long list it goes. I need friends and a social life...

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love Part 13

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

2k word count

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings none

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Night had settled, and the house was quiet, save for the occasional creak of the old floorboards. Dean and I lay tangled together in his bed, the dim light from the lamp casting soft shadows on the walls. The familiar scent of leather and gun oil mingled with the faint crispness of the night air wafting through the open window.

Dean was propped up on one elbow, his other arm draped casually across my waist. His fingers idly traced patterns on my hip as we talked about the plan for the next day. Sam had found another hunt—something about a possible poltergeist in Kansas—and we’d decided to hit the road first thing in the morning.

“Back to business as usual, huh?” I murmured, my voice low to match the stillness of the night.

Dean’s lips curved into a small smile. “Yeah, except now I’ve got you riding shotgun and no excuses to pretend I don’t want you there.”

I chuckled softly, resting my head against his shoulder. “Better not make me regret it, Winchester.”

His hand paused for a moment, then he tipped his head down to kiss my forehead. “Not a chance.”

The quiet that followed was comfortable, a stark contrast to the chaos of the past few days. I was just about to close my eyes when the unmistakable sound of fluttering wings filled the room.

Dean and I both sat bolt upright, and there, at the foot of the bed, stood Castiel. His piercing blue eyes flicked between us, and his brow furrowed deeply, his usual stoic demeanor replaced with what could only be described as confusion—and maybe a hint of disapproval.

“You’re in the same bed,” Castiel said, his tone blunt and unfiltered, as always. “This is… unexpected.”

Dean groaned, running a hand down his face. “Cas, seriously? You ever heard of knocking? Or I don’t know, not teleporting into people’s bedrooms?”

Castiel ignored him, his gaze fixed on me now, as though he was trying to piece together a puzzle. “I’ve been speaking with God,” he said gravely, “and He is… displeased.”

That got Dean’s attention. His jaw tightened, and he straightened up, his voice laced with irritation. “Displeased about what, exactly?”

Cas shifted uncomfortably, his trench coat rustling as he crossed his arms. “You and Y/N,” he said simply. “You are disrupting His plans.”

I blinked, my brain struggling to keep up. “Disrupting His plans? What does that even mean?”

Cas took a step closer, his expression more serious than usual. “God’s plan for you, Dean, and for you, Y/N, did not involve this... union.” He gestured vaguely at the bed, as though the sight of us there was evidence enough. “Your relationship is altering the trajectory of His design.”

Dean let out a sharp laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re telling me that God’s got a problem with me finally being happy? That’s rich, Cas. Real rich.”

“It’s not about happiness,” Cas replied, his tone more urgent now. “It’s about purpose. Your paths were meant to remain parallel, not intersect.”

Dean scoffed, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing up, squaring off with the angel. “Yeah, well, maybe God’s plans suck, Cas. Ever think of that? Maybe we’re done playing by His rules.”

Cas tilted his head, looking genuinely perplexed. “You would defy God’s will for this?”

Dean’s jaw clenched, and he glanced back at me before answering. “For her? Yeah, I would.”

The weight of his words hit me like a freight train, but I didn’t let it show. Instead, I stood up beside him, crossing my arms as I faced Cas. “If we’re ruining God’s plans, maybe it’s because they weren’t the right ones to begin with.”

Cas regarded us both for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he sighed, a rare and almost human sound. “You’re treading dangerous ground,” he warned. “God does not take kindly to deviations.”

Dean stepped closer, his voice firm. “Tell Him we’re not His puppets. If He’s got a problem, He knows where to find me.”

Cas looked at him, then at me, a flicker of something—doubt? Worry?—crossing his face. Without another word, he disappeared in a rustle of wings, leaving us standing there in the quiet room.

Dean turned to me, his hand finding mine. “You okay?”

I nodded, though my heart was still racing. “Are you?”

He smirked, pulling me closer. “Cas can tell God whatever he wants. You and me? That’s the plan I’m sticking to.”

I smiled despite the lingering unease. Whatever storm was brewing, we’d face it together.

The next morning, the Impala roared to life, the familiar rumble filling the air as we hit the road toward Kansas. Dean’s hands gripped the wheel, his movements effortless as he navigated the open road. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a golden hue over the horizon.

Sam was in the backseat, a stack of papers balanced on his lap as he rattled off details about the case. “Any family that moves in moves back out again within about a month—objects moving on their own, cold spots, and what sounds like footsteps in the attic. A couple of classic poltergeist markers. No deaths so far.”

Theresa leaned against the window, arms crossed, nodding along. “And you’re sure it’s not just residual energy? Last time, we wasted a whole day on what turned out to be a faulty HVAC system.”

Sam shot her a look. “Pretty sure. There’s also been some whispering voices and a mirror shattering. That’s not exactly a draft.”

I sat in the passenger seat, staring out at the passing scenery, barely listening. Castiel’s words from the night before kept echoing in my mind: Your relationship is altering the trajectory of His design. I tried to push it away, but the weight of it lingered, gnawing at the edges of my thoughts.

Dean’s voice pulled me out of my spiral. “You okay, sweetheart?”

I blinked, glancing over at him. His green eyes flicked from the road to me, concern etched into his expression. He’d always had a way of seeing right through me, even when I tried to hide it.

“Yeah,” I said quickly, forcing a small smile. “I’m fine.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “You sure? ‘Cause you’ve been quiet. And not the good kind of quiet—like, something’s on your mind kind of quiet.”

Theresa leaned forward slightly from the back, peering over Sam’s shoulder. “You’ve been zoning out since we left Bobby’s. Everything okay?”

I hesitated, glancing back at Sam and Theresa before looking at Dean. “It’s nothing,” I said finally, but my voice lacked conviction.

Dean’s hand shifted on the wheel, his knuckles brushing against mine in a brief but grounding touch. “If it’s nothing, why are you chewing on it like it’s gonna bite back?”

Sam sighed from the back, folding the papers in his hands. “This about Castiel?” Dean asked.

I tensed, and Dean’s jaw tightened. “Cas? What about him?” Sam asked.

I exhaled, knowing I wasn’t going to get out of this. “It’s just… what he said last night. About us messing up God’s plans.”

Dean snorted, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, God’s plans haven’t exactly been sunshine and rainbows, have they? You think I care what He thinks about us?”

“I know,” I said softly. “But it’s not that simple, Dean. What if—”

Dean cut me off, his voice firm but not unkind. “No. There’s no ‘what if.’ You and me? That’s not up for debate. Not for God, not for Cas, not for anyone.”

Theresa leaned back in her seat, her expression thoughtful. “Look, I’m not exactly Team God either, but maybe there’s something to it. If Cas thinks it’s important enough to show up, it’s worth considering.”

Dean’s grip on the wheel tightened. “Yeah, well, considering doesn’t mean worrying yourself sick over it. Cas said his piece, and we said ours. End of story.”

Sam, ever the peacemaker, chimed in. “I get where you’re coming from, Y/N. But Dean’s right—God’s plans haven’t exactly worked out for us in the past. Maybe it’s time we make our own.”

I looked out the window again, the Kansas plains stretching endlessly before us. Dean’s hand reached over, resting briefly on my knee.

“You’re with me, right?” he asked quietly, his voice low enough that only I could hear.

I nodded, the knot in my chest loosening just a little. “Always.”

He smiled, and for a moment, the weight of Castiel’s words seemed lighter. Whatever lay ahead, I wasn’t facing it alone.

The motel room was as bland as they came—beige walls, worn-out carpet, and a bed that creaked if you so much as breathed wrong. But after a long day of nothing but mold inspections and realizing the supposed "haunting" was a total bust, it felt like a luxury. The air still carried a faint scent of bleach from when housekeeping had gone over the room earlier, but at least it was clean.

Sam and Theresa had decided to make the most of the free evening, heading out to a local diner that Sam had claimed made "the best pie in Kansas." Dean had scoffed at the idea of any pie being better than the ones at a certain diner three states over, but he didn’t argue when Sam handed him the room key and said they’d be back later.

Dean and I had opted to stay in, the lure of a quiet night too tempting after the day’s events. Now, we were curled up in bed, the flickering glow of the TV casting shadows across the room. Dean had one arm around me, his other hand resting lazily on the remote as he channel-surfed through a lineup of mostly forgettable shows.

“Is it just me,” he murmured, “or is TV getting worse?”

I mumbled something incoherent in response, half-asleep against his chest. The steady rhythm of his breathing, combined with the low hum of the TV, had lulled me into a state of complete relaxation. My hand rested lightly on his stomach, rising and falling with each breath he took.

Dean glanced down at me, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Guess you’re not gonna weigh in on the great TV debate, huh?”

I didn’t answer, already lost to sleep. Dean chuckled softly, his thumb brushing against my shoulder as he turned his attention back to the screen. Some old western was playing, the kind with over-the-top gunfights and dramatic music. It wasn’t exactly gripping, but it was enough to keep him entertained.

The room was peaceful, the kind of quiet that rarely came in our line of work. Dean leaned back against the headboard, feeling the rare comfort of contentment as he listened to my soft, even breathing.

Then came the unmistakable sound of feathers.

Dean’s entire body tensed as the fluttering noise filled the room, disrupting the calm like a ripple through still water. He glanced down at me, relieved to see I was still fast asleep, before his eyes darted toward the foot of the bed.

And there he was—Castiel, standing stiffly in his trench coat, his blue eyes locked on Dean with the same intensity they always carried.

Dean sighed heavily, careful not to wake me as he shifted to sit up straighter. “Really, Cas? You couldn’t wait until morning?”

Castiel’s gaze flicked from Dean to me, his expression a mix of curiosity and something that might have been disapproval. “I have news,” he said simply, his voice as gravelly and direct as ever.

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering under his breath before looking back at the angel. “Can it wait? She’s finally sleeping.”

Cas didn’t answer, his eyes lingering on me for a moment longer before he turned his full attention back to Dean. “No. It cannot wait.”

Dean sighed again, his shoulders sagging slightly. “Of course it can’t.”

The TV droned on in the background, the light from the screen casting a faint glow over the room as the scene faded into silence, leaving only the weight of whatever news Castiel had brought hanging in the air.

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

Objection! Part 5

Rafael Barba x fem!Carisi!reader

2.1k 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

For months the days where just as busy as that first day. Some days were filled with paperwork, some days were spent entirely at the courthouse. More and more I was working independently of Rafael only crossing paths briefly to hand off files or to discuss a case. Rafael had even organised me my own office. As much as I enjoyed the newfound freedom within the DA’s office, I was also missing being so close to Rafael. We still had a little meetings, casual lunches and nights out with the SVU team, but it became less of us and more the whole team.

Finally, a case came up that allowed me to work closely with Rafael again. What started as a runaway with no connection to SVU and turned into a possible stranger abduction had become a massive manhunt for a yet unknown person who was enjoying taunting Rafael in the form of letters with clues which to places with more clues that lead to dead ends. 2 months and hundreds of mans hours had been put into finding this person and we were still no closer. No name, no witnesses, no evidence and 7 missing teenagers. We had rearranged the entire SVU pull pen pushing all tables to the sides and filling the middle of the room with drawing boards. I was currently sat staring at the clues we had been sent. The first ever letter we received from this guy told us that we would find the missing teen just by following his clues. Yet all the clues had led to dead ends. Something wasn’t adding up, something didn’t make sense.

“Y/n we have to go update the mayor” Rafael said coming to a stop next to me.

“Yeah, yeah coming”

“You’ve been staring at these notes for ages” Rafael sliding his hands into his pockets.

“Somethings bothering me about them. I feel like we’ve missed something” I say eyes not leaving the boards in front of me.

“You’ve been working for almost 40 hours, lets update the mayor then you can go home and get some sleep.” Rafael held out a hand to help me up.

I took Rafael’s hand and stood, though my eyes lingered on the boards a second longer. The sketches, cryptic letters, and scribbled coordinates seemed to mock me, each taunt from our unknown suspect ringing louder in my mind. But he was right—I needed a clear head if I was going to see whatever was lurking in the details.

As we made our way to the mayor's office, I replayed the clues in my mind, hoping a fresh perspective or a conversation might help connect the dots. This case had turned into something personal for everyone involved, especially for Rafael, whose frustration was mounting with each letter that slipped through our fingers and led to nothing.

In the elevator, he broke the silence. “You know, we’re close. I can feel it.”

I glanced at him, seeing the exhaustion mirrored in his expression. But there was something else too—a simmering determination that made me feel as if we were on the brink of a breakthrough.

“You think he’s messing with us on purpose?” I asked, voicing a theory that had been nagging me.

“Absolutely. He’s got a plan,” Rafael said, his jaw tight. “And he wants us chasing our tails.”

The elevator doors opened to reveal the marble hall leading to the mayor’s office, but before we could step out, Rafael's phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and his face darkened.

“It’s another message.”

A chill ran down my spine as he opened the new text. Another cryptic line: "When you reach the end of the labyrinth, the prize will be in plain sight. If you just open your eyes." It was as if the perpetrator could sense our frustration, even knew that we were about to speak with the mayor.

“Another clue,” I whispered, looking over Rafael’s shoulder. But something was different this time. The tone—it wasn’t taunting. It was almost... instructional.

Rafael took a deep breath, as if steadying himself. “Looks like we’re not going home anytime soon.”

“No,” I said, a spark of determination reigniting. “But I think we’re finally starting to understand his game.”

As we turned back toward the precinct, abandoning the meeting with the mayor, my exhaustion melted into resolve. I’d follow every hint, trace every step. This time, I was determined to beat him at his own game.

…

The precinct was quiet, nearly deserted, with only the faint hum of overhead lights filling the silence. Midnight was approaching, and most of the team had taken off for a quick break. Olivia and Rafael had left to grab food for everyone, Amanda was somewhere in the break room nursing yet another coffee, and Sonny was curled up in the bunk room, catching some much-needed rest. Finn had gone out hours ago to chase down a lead.

I sat in front of the board, staring at the latest clue we’d pinned up: "When you reach the end of the labyrinth, the prize will be in plain sight. If you just open your eyes."

A familiar presence broke the silence beside me as Nick ambled over, arms crossed, eyes scanning the chaotic tangle of clues, locations, and scrawled notes we’d collected over the past two months. He’d been watching me closely for a while, occasionally throwing out theories, but mostly letting me sift through my own thoughts.

“Still chewing on that one?” he asked, tilting his head toward the new clue.

I nodded, barely looking at him. “Yeah. This one’s different. It’s… almost like he’s taunting us less, like he’s trying to lead us to something.”

Nick furrowed his brow, clearly considering it. “Or maybe he’s getting cocky, slipping up a little.”

I tapped my pen against my notebook, scanning the list of locations we’d already searched, the cryptic clues leading us from one dead-end to another. I was exhausted, but something kept gnawing at me, like an itch I couldn’t quite scratch. We’d been to all these places, followed every lead, yet somehow, I felt like I’d been staring right at the answer without seeing it.

My mind flashed back to the first letter—the one he’d sent that started this whole twisted game. "You'll find them if you look beyond the obvious."

A realization hit me, cold and electric. “Nick,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “What if we’ve been overthinking this? Maybe the answer isn’t at the end of some long, winding path—it’s been right in front of us all along.”

Nick leaned in, interest sparking in his eyes. “You think he’s hidden something we’ve overlooked?”

“Yes. Or maybe he’s been hiding in plain sight, knowing we’d miss it because we were too focused on finding something complex.” I scanned the board again, every location we’d been to flickering through my mind. Parks, subway stations, alleys, all public spaces with no clear connection other than being… central.

My eyes widened. “Nick, what if he’s been using these places to form a pattern, like a… map?”

Nick straightened, a gleam of understanding lighting his face. “So you think he’s been leading us in circles—maybe around somewhere specific?”

“Exactly.” I felt my pulse quicken. “I think he’s been taunting us by leading us right around his hiding spot, and he’s getting a thrill out of knowing we haven’t found it. But I need to check, and I can’t explain why just yet.”

I turned to Nick, urgency thickening in my voice. “Come with me. We have to go now, but don’t tell anyone. Not until we’re sure.”

He looked at me, searching my face, his jaw tightening as he weighed my request. Then, without another word, he grabbed his jacket off the back of a nearby chair. “Alright, I’m with you.”

We slipped out of the precinct, moving quickly and quietly down the stairwell and out the back exit. The chill of the night air hit me as we stepped onto the empty street, adrenaline sparking through my veins.

“You have any idea where we’re headed?” he asked as we walked.

I gave him a small smile, my confidence growing. “I do. I just hope I’m right.”

And as we headed toward our destination, a strange sense of clarity washed over me. The missing piece was within reach; I could feel it. This time, we weren’t going to let him slip through our fingers.

The streets were empty as Nick and I navigated our way through the quiet alleys, following my hunch toward one of the oldest and most forgotten parts of New York’s sewer system. With each step, the city above felt more distant, the buildings looming like silent witnesses to our descent. We slipped through an unmarked, rusted gate, making our way down a narrow, crumbling stairwell that reeked of mold and decay. Somewhere ahead of us was an answer—a clue, maybe even one of the missing teens—but right now, every instinct was screaming that this was a mistake.

“Are you sure about this?” Nick murmured as we approached a door at the end of the passage, barely visible in the dim light of my flashlight.

“Positive,” I whispered back, my voice tight with anticipation and dread. The door was dented and corroded, with a single piece of paper pinned to it. I lifted my flashlight, illuminating a simple, handwritten message: Welcome, Rafael Barba.

A shiver ran down my spine as I stared at the name, the ink bold and deliberate. “He was expecting Rafael,” I whispered, pulling the note down with a trembling hand.

Nick glanced around, his hand instinctively reaching for his gun. “Looks like he planned something special.”

I crumpled the note, stuffing it in my pocket. “We’re here now. Let’s see what he had in mind.”

I pushed the door open, and we stepped inside, the smell of damp concrete and rust thickening in the air. Before I could react, the door slammed shut behind us with a heavy clang, echoing through the tunnel as it locked into place. Nick spun around, yanking on the handle, but it didn’t budge.

“It’s locked,” he muttered, frustration flashing in his eyes.

I felt my stomach twist as an unsettling silence settled over us, thick and foreboding. And then, a crackle overhead—a faint hum of static that made my heart pound. Somewhere in the darkness, an intercom system buzzed to life, and a voice filled the room, low and edged with disappointment.

“Well, well,” the voice drawled, with an eerie calmness that sent chills down my spine. “I was expecting Rafael Barba. But instead, he sends his… assistant.” A pause, as if he were savoring the surprise. “Not what I had hoped for. But I suppose you’ll do.”

I clenched my fists, anger simmering beneath my fear. “If you wanted Barba, maybe you should’ve faced him directly, instead of hiding behind your little clues.”

The voice chuckled, a cold, amused sound. “You misunderstand, my dear. This was never about facing Barba—it was about creating something he couldn’t ignore. A labyrinth, an elaborate little puzzle designed just for him. I wanted to watch him sweat, watch him chase his own tail. Just like I had to do when I begged him to take my sisters case” He paused, his tone turning playful. “But now, it seems I’ll get to see you and your friend test your wits instead.”

Nick tightened his grip on his flashlight, his jaw clenched. “We’re not playing your game.”

“Oh, but you already are,” the voice purred. “In fact, you’re at the very heart of it.”

I scanned the room, my pulse racing. The walls were lined with passages, each one barely visible in the dim light, twisting and disappearing into darkness. The intercom crackled again, the voice practically dripping with satisfaction.

“I’ve left you a series of clues,” he continued, “if you can find them, that is. Each path you choose will lead you deeper into the labyrinth. Or… to a dead end.” He laughed softly, the sound echoing around us. “And who knows? Maybe you’ll even get out alive.”

Nick shot me a look, his expression deadly serious. “What’s the plan, then?”

I took a deep breath, steadying myself. “We play along. For now. But we stay sharp and look for a way to turn this back on him. He thinks he’s got us trapped, but that’s his first mistake.”

The intercom crackled again. “Tick-tock, Y/N. Time is running out. I’ll be watching—don’t disappoint me.”

The line went silent, leaving us in darkness, with only the soft, persistent drip of water echoing through the tunnels. I gritted my teeth, the weight of the situation sinking in. He wanted a game? We’d give him one he wouldn’t forget.

Tag List!

@geeksareunique @pinkladydevotee

Objection! Part 7

Rafael Barba x fem!Carisi!reader

3.4k 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

The air felt heavier, the silence more oppressive, as we kept moving through the tunnels. My flashlight flickered against the walls, catching glimpses of rusted pipes and slick concrete. We were both exhausted, but giving up wasn’t an option. Not now. Not when every step could bring us closer to the answers—or the way out.

Then we saw it: a door. Unlike everything else down here, it looked new, the metal gleaming faintly in the dim light. I stopped, my pulse quickening. “That doesn’t belong.”

Nick nodded, stepping forward to inspect it. “Looks like it was built recently. Think this is what we’ve been looking for?”

“Only one way to find out.” I grabbed the handle, hesitating for half a second before pulling it open.

The sight inside hit me like a punch to the gut. A teenage girl, barely older than fifteen, was strapped to some kind of metal frame. Her head lolled to the side, her breathing shallow but steady. She was alive, thank God, but her eyes were glazed over—drugged.

“Oh, my God,” I whispered, rushing forward. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. We’re here to help.”

Nick moved beside me, his flashlight sweeping the room. “She doesn’t look hurt. Just out of it.”

I checked her over quickly, relieved to find no visible injuries. The restraints were another story—heavy-duty cuffs locked tightly around her wrists and ankles, anchoring her to the frame. I tugged at one, testing its strength. “We’re going to need a key.”

Nick started searching, his flashlight darting over every inch of the room. “No sign of one,” he muttered, frustration creeping into his voice. “Nothing on the walls, nothing on the shelves.”

I scanned the space desperately, looking for anything that could help. That’s when Nick stopped, shining his light on a small, barely noticeable hole in the wall near the roof.

“What’s that?” he asked, looking up. “It doesn’t belong there.”

I stood beside him, squinting into the darkness. “Looks like… a hole. A really small one. Like someone drilled it.”

He glanced at me, then gestured to the hole. “Worth a shot. Take a look.”

Before I could protest he lifted me easily so I could peer into the hole. I angled my flashlight toward it, straining to see. And there it was. A tiny key, tucked just out of reach.

“I see it!” I exclaimed. “Give me a second.”

With some awkward maneuvering, I managed to fish it out using the thin edge of my flashlight. Once I had it in my hand, Nick set me down, and I rushed back to the girl. The key slid into the lock smoothly, and the restraints clicked open one by one.

“There,” I said softly, catching her before she slumped forward. “We’ve got you. You’re okay now.”

Nick helped me lower her gently to the floor. She was groggy but conscious, her eyes fluttering open. “We’re going to get you out of here,” Nick said firmly. “Can you walk?”

She nodded weakly, and together we got her to her feet. She leaned heavily on me as we guided her out of the room and back into the tunnel.

“Now what?” I asked Nick, my voice low. “We can’t go back the way we came, and so we take the other way?.”

“Then we keep moving,” he said, determination in his voice. “There’s got to be a way out. We’ll find it.”

I nodded, gripping the girl tightly as we started moving again, this time with more urgency. The clock was ticking, and whoever had set this up wouldn’t be happy to find we’d ruined their plans.

The tunnels felt tighter now, like the walls were pressing in with every step. Sections that should be open were now completely sealed off, the blockages smooth and deliberate. Whoever had orchestrated this had more time and resources than I wanted to imagine.

The girl—Sophie, as we’d learned—was starting to regain her strength, walking on her own now, though she still stayed close to me. The fear in her eyes hadn’t faded. Not that I blamed her. My own nerves were shot, and I wasn’t the one who’d been strapped to some twisted contraption.

Nick kept glancing around, his flashlight darting over every surface. “This guy didn’t just throw this together. He’s been planning this for a long time,” he muttered.

“Yeah,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “And he’s got a serious grudge against Barba.”

The words were barely out of my mouth when the intercom crackled to life, the sound sharp and grating in the otherwise silent tunnel.

“Congratulations,” the voice drawled, its tone dripping with mockery. “You found one. Well done. Although, I must say, I’m disappointed—again. Where is Rafael Barba? Too busy hiding behind his desk to face the consequences of his failures?”

I tensed, my grip tightening on the flashlight. Sophie flinched at the sound, pressing closer to me.

The voice continued, growing colder. “Do you know what he did? How he abandoned her? She needed him, and he turned his back. My sister deserved better. She deserved justice.” There was a pause, heavy with emotion. “But don’t worry—I’ll make sure he pays. And if you don’t want to be trapped down here forever, I suggest you pick up the pace. Tick tock.”

The intercom cut out with a harsh click, leaving the tunnel in an eerie silence.

“Barba? This guy’s sister?” Nick said, frowning. “What the hell is this guy talking about?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted, my stomach twisting. “But we don’t have time to figure it out right now. We need to keep moving.”

Just ahead, another door came into view. This one was different—bars instead of solid metal, like a prison cell. My heart sank as we approached, and I saw what was inside. Two more teens, a boy and a girl, probably sixteen or seventeen. They were sitting on the ground, but when they saw us, the boy shot to his feet, gripping the bars.

“Help us!” he shouted, his voice hoarse but determined. “Please, get us out of here!”

“We’re going to,” I promised, stepping closer to the door. “Just hold on.”

Nick inspected the lock, a grim look on his face. “It’s not a key this time. It’s a combination lock.”

“Great,” I muttered under my breath. “Alright, start looking. There’s got to be something here that tells us the combination.”

We began searching the area, scouring the walls, floor, and any nearby objects for a clue. The boy paced behind the bars, his fists clenching and unclenching. “You have to hurry,” he said, his voice cracking. “He said he’d come back soon.”

“We’re hurrying,” Nick said firmly, his flashlight sweeping over a patch of graffiti. “Just stay calm.”

“Easier said than done,” I muttered, glancing at Sophie. She was standing guard, her arms wrapped around herself as she kept an eye on the tunnel behind us.

As I turned back to the bars, something caught my eye—a faint scrawl etched into the frame of the door. Numbers.

“Nick, over here!” I called, shining my light on the marks. “It’s a sequence. Could be the combination.”

He rushed over, inspecting the numbers. “Alright. Let’s hope this works.”

With a quick nod, I reached for the lock, my hands trembling slightly as I turned the dial. The click of the lock opening was the most satisfying sound I’d heard in hours.

The door swung open, and the teens stumbled out, the boy clutching the girl protectively. “Thank you,” he said, his voice thick with relief.

“No time for thanks,” Nick said. “We’re not out of this yet. Let’s move.”

I led the group back into the tunnel, my heart pounding. We had three of them now, but the clock was ticking, and every step brought us closer to whatever the psycho behind this had planned.

…

Rafaels P.O.V

Olivia’s radio crackled to life, the static cutting through the tense silence. My breath caught as Finn’s voice came through, hurried but steady.

“We’ve got an open door,” he said. “Amanda and I are heading in now. Looks like it leads into the tunnels.”

A surge of adrenaline coursed through me. Finally, progress.

Sonny cam through, his voice urgent. “I’m on my way. Where exactly is it?”

“East 37th, near the old maintenance lot,” Finn replied.

Olivia nodded sharply, already moving toward the car. “We’re heading there too,” she said into the radio. Then, in one fluid motion, she flipped channels. “All available units, converge on Detective Tutuola’s location. Repeat, East 37th, old maintenance lot. Possible access to the suspect’s tunnel system.”

The gravity in her voice struck me hard. It wasn’t just procedure—it was personal. For all of us.

“We’ll find them,” Olivia said, her tone resolute as she glanced at me.

I didn’t respond. Couldn’t. My thoughts were locked on Y/N and the hell she must be in right now. My mind raced with all the things I should’ve done differently. The choices I’d made that put her in this position.

Olivia touched my arm, grounding me for a moment. “She’s strong, Rafael. And she’s not alone. We’ll get them out.”

I nodded, swallowing hard, but the knot in my chest didn’t loosen.

As we sped toward Finn’s location, I forced myself to focus. Y/N was down there, likely facing God knows what. Regret wasn’t going to help her. Action would. And for once, I had to put aside the arguments, the courtroom maneuvers, and the carefully crafted words.

Because this time, words wouldn’t be enough.

…

Y/N’s P.O.V

The sound of our hurried footsteps echoed down the tunnel, sharp and unrelenting. My chest ached with every breath, but I didn’t slow down. Nick’s hand rested on his gun as he moved beside me, his eyes constantly scanning the dimly lit space ahead.

Behind us, the teens huddled close, their voices low but insistent.

“Who are you, really?” the boy, Ethan, asked, his tone edged with suspicion. “We know he’s a cop, but what about you? What’s your role in all of this?”

I glanced back, offering what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “I work with the DA’s office,” I said, keeping it simple. “We’re here to get you out and stop whoever’s behind this.”

“But why us?” the girl, Mia, pressed, her voice trembling. “Why is he doing this?”

“We’re still trying to figure that out,” I admitted, my voice steady despite the growing dread twisting in my gut. “But I promise, we’re not leaving without you.”

Before either of them could ask more, the intercom crackled to life again, the grating static sending a chill down my spine.

“Well, well,” the voice drawled, its tone a mixture of amusement and fury. “I have to admit, you’ve surprised me. Not only have you managed to find more of my little treasures, but it seems Barba and his merry band have decided to crash the party.”

My stomach dropped, and I exchanged a quick glance with Nick. His jaw tightened, his hand shifting on the grip of his gun.

“You’re ruining my plans,” the voice continued, its amusement fading into cold anger. “But no matter. I’ve played my part. I’ll see you all soon. Very soon.”

The intercom cut off with a sharp click, leaving us in heavy silence. For a moment, none of us moved.

Then Nick and I locked eyes, the same mixture of joy and dread mirrored in his expression. “They’re in,” I whispered, my voice breathless. “They’re coming for us.”

“But so is he,” Nick added grimly.

Without another word, we broke into a sprint, the teens scrambling to keep up behind us. My heart pounded, not just from the exertion but from the urgency driving me forward. If the team was in the tunnels, we had to find them—fast.

“Stay close!” I called back to the teens, glancing over my shoulder to make sure they were keeping up.

Every twist and turn of the tunnels blurred together, the oppressive darkness and endless sameness threatening to disorient me. But I didn’t stop, didn’t let myself think about how far we still had to go or what might be waiting around the next corner.

The only thought keeping me going was the hope that, somewhere in this maze, Rafael and the others were searching just as desperately for us. And that we’d find each other before it was too late.

…

Rafaels P.O.V

The damp, stale air of the tunnel pressed against me, thick and suffocating. Every step we took echoed against the concrete walls, amplifying the tension hanging in the air. But then we stopped short, met with a solid brick wall.

“What the hell is this?” I muttered, running my hand over the freshly laid mortar. It was still rough to the touch, and the smell of wet cement lingered.

Finn crouched down, inspecting the base. “This is new,” he said, his voice low but certain. “Whoever put this up didn’t do it long ago.”

Sonny spun around, spotting a couple of officers near the entrance. “You two!” he barked, his voice sharp enough to make them jump. “Get sledgehammers, now! I don’t care where you find them, just move!”

The officers bolted, and for a moment, the tunnel fell silent again except for the distant dripping of water. My frustration simmered dangerously close to the surface. Every second we stood here felt like a second wasted—a second Y/N and Amaro didn’t have.

“You think they’re past this wall?” I asked Finn, though my voice came out more desperate than I intended.

“They’ve gotta be,” he replied. “This guy’s trying to funnel them.”

Before I could respond, the officers returned, lugging two heavy sledgehammers. Sonny didn’t waste a moment, grabbing one and swinging it against the wall with a loud, echoing crack. Finn took the other, their combined efforts creating a rhythm of destruction that felt painfully slow.

Finally, with a groan of collapsing masonry, a section of the wall gave way. Dust billowed out, but I didn’t hesitate. I stepped through the opening, flashlight slicing through the darkness as the team followed close behind.

We hadn’t made it far when an intercom crackled to life. I froze, my breath catching in my throat.

“Well, well,” a voice sneered, its tone laced with mockery. “I have to admit, you’ve surprised me. Not only have you managed to find more of my little treasures, but it seems Barba and his merry band have decided to crash the party.”

I felt my chest tighten at the mention of my name. The venom in his voice was unmistakable, and the weight of his hatred settled heavily on my shoulders.

“You’re ruining my plans,” he continued, his amusement fading into something darker. “But no matter. I’ve played my part. I’ll see you all soon. Very soon.”

The intercom cut out abruptly, leaving us in a silence more oppressive than before.

“Was that…?” Olivia began, but I didn’t let her finish.

“It was him,” I said firmly, my voice cold. “Let’s move.”

I broke into a sprint, the others close behind. The adrenaline surged through me, pushing back the exhaustion creeping in from hours of searching. Every step was a mix of hope and dread, knowing that the voice wasn’t just taunting us—it was a warning.

Y/N was down here. Somewhere. And I wouldn’t stop until I found her.

…

Y/Ns P.O.V

We sprinted through the inky blackness, our footsteps echoing in the confined space. Each breath was a gasp, a desperate inhale against the burning in my lungs. But we couldn't stop. We were almost there.

Then, a new sound cut through the silence—heavy footsteps, deliberate and approaching. Nick's hand shot up, a silent command to halt. He raised his gun, his eyes scanning the darkness, a predator poised to strike.

Time stretched into an eternity. The footsteps grew louder, closer. And then, around the bend, they appeared: Olivia, Sonny, Rafael, Finn, and Amanda. Their faces, etched with relief, were a beacon in the darkness.

"Y/N!" Olivia's voice, raw with emotion, pierced the air. "Amaro!" Sonny's grin was wide, his relief palpable.

I stood frozen, disbelief washing over me. We had made it. We were free. But Olivia's voice, steady and grounded, pulled us back to reality. "We're not done yet. Let's get everyone out of here."

Nick nodded, his expression hardening, though the lingering relief was still visible. We pressed on, the tunnel seeming endless. Finally, we burst into the open air of New York City.

Nick's jubilation was infectious. He whirled me around, his laughter echoing in the night. "We did it, Y/N! We're out!"

I couldn't help but smile, the exhaustion momentarily forgotten. But the respite was brief. Olivia's voice, serious and focused, brought us back to the task at hand. "We found the other teens. They're all safe."

A wave of relief washed over me, but it was short-lived. The mystery of the man behind this twisted game remained unsolved.

We recounted our ordeal to the team: the cryptic messages, the personal vendetta against Rafael, the constant references to a sister. Rafael's face, once hopeful, now bore the weight of a painful memory.

"I know who it is," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. "I know exactly who it is."

A heavy silence fell over the group. The man's identity, his motives, and his ultimate goal remained shrouded in darkness. The game was far from over.

…

Rafael P.O.V

I watched as Nick spun Y/N around, a wide grin plastered across her face. A pang of longing shot through me. I had wanted to be the one to celebrate with her, to hold her close and never let go. But I’d hesitated, a fear of rejection holding me back again.

The relief of finding Y/N alive and well was immense. She was more than just a teammate; she was a beacon of hope in the darkness. I’d yearned for her presence, her strength, her unwavering belief in me.

Now, as we stood outside the tunnel, the weight of the past settled on my shoulders. I turned to the team, my voice barely a whisper. “It’s Anya,” I confessed. “His sister.”

A hush fell over the group as they absorbed the revelation. Anya, a name whispered in the darkness, a haunting reminder of a life lost.

“She was one of the first victims passed across my desk” I continued, my voice trembling. “Smart, kind, and full of life. That was until this man she met on one of those random dating apps took advantage of her. She begged for months for me to put him away but there just wasn’t enough evidence and being as young and stupid as I was I didn’t want to prosecute a case I knew I couldn’t win. So I turned her away. A week later she jumped in front of a train in the subway. Her brother, Marco then came begging me to charge the man who attacked Anya with her death as well but again it was a case I knew I couldn’t win so I said no”

The memory of our last conversation, filled with accusations and heartbreak, still stung. I had failed her. The guilt had consumed me ever since.

“Rafael you can’t beat yourself up over it, you live and learn” Y/N gave me a small smile resting a hand on my arm.

“I could have stop all this before it got this far, he put you in danger, Nick in danger” I looked at her fighting back tears. Before the conversation could go any further a text message lit up my phone screen.

I know your weakness, Rafael.

I stared at the message, a shaky hand coming up to wipe the sweat from my forehead. When I finally looked up from reading and rereading the message my heart sank. Y/N was no longer standing next to me.

“Rafa what’s the matter?” Olivia spoke up seeing the look of panic on my face.

“Where is Y/N?” I asked turning to look behind me.

“She’s fine, she went with Sonny to get some water” Olivia pointed off towards Sonny’s squad car.

I took off in a sprint towards the car Olivia on my heels. Each step felt like a million miles. Sonny had been knocked out and left crumpled on the road. Olivia called for a paramedic while I stood shaking, spin around trying to look everyone were at once.

“No, no, no” I shouted, my phone lit up again catching my attention “Liv he has her”

Time for round two with the most precious prize.

Tag List!

@geeksareunique @pinkladydevotee @pumpkindwight

Objection! Part 3

Rafael Barba x fem!Carisi!reader

1k 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

Coffees and food in hand, I made my way back to the district attorney's office. As I walked through the door, I heard a familiar voice call out behind me.

"Y/N, Rafa is really putting you to work, isn’t he?" Olivia smiled as she caught up and fell into step with me.

"Lieutenant Benson, hardly. This is just a thank you for everything, and something to tide us over while we look over a case together," I smiled back at her.

"Oh, please, call me Liv," she laughed. "I hope my team didn’t scare you off."

"No, they're wonderful! If anything, I’m mad that Sonny didn’t introduce us all earlier."

"If it makes you feel any better, we all thought he only had one sister until Fin overheard him talking with Rafa about getting you a job. Then he tells us he has four sisters!" Olivia laughed, holding open Rafael's office door for me.

Rafael looked up from his desk, raising an eyebrow when he saw us all smiles and laughter.

"Getting along well, I see," Rafael remarked, keeping his face neutral.

"Yeah, just talking about Sonny," I smiled, placing a coffee and a sandwich in front of him. "This is a thank you for saving me at the courthouse earlier."

"Oh, no thanks needed. We all get lost there our first day," Rafael smiled. "Now, Liv, what can I help you with?" He turned his attention to her.

"The guy we arrested yesterday wants to make a deal. He’ll give us all the other guys he knows who are holding girls in exchange for a reduced sentence and protective custody," Olivia quickly switched to business mode.

"Tell him I’ll be in to discuss a deal first thing in the morning," Rafael sighed.

"Great, I’ll leave you two to whatever it is ADAs do," Olivia smiled, walking out of the office.

Rafael waved a hand at her as she left, then picked up a pile of papers from his desk and brought them over to a coffee table on the other side of the room. He motioned for me to sit down on the lounge next to the coffee table before retrieving his coffee and sandwich. He handed me some paperwork from the pile and directed me to read while he ate. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed him trying to eat in manageable bites while fighting the urge to just devour the entire sandwich. It was clear this was his first meal of the day—or at least since breakfast. I felt a pang of guilt for not getting something more substantial. Mental note: find a good takeout place nearby to keep this man fed. Sonny would probably know a few spots.

I turned my attention back to the paperwork, my heart sinking as I read the case summary and saw who the defense attorney was.

"You're in for one hell of a fight here, Barba," I looked over at him.

"You got all that from just reading the case outline?" Rafael asked, taking the final bite of his sandwich.

"That, and the fact that the defense attorney is Buchanan. It's glaringly obvious from the outline what tactics he'll try to use," I sighed.

"So, you know about Buchanan?" Rafael smirked.

"And you, Cabot, Novak, Langan, Calhoun, Ellis... If they’ve worked in New York, I’ve likely studied them," I admitted, a little embarrassed.

"Know thine enemy," Rafael chuckled. "So walk me through it."

I nodded and began breaking down the case for Rafael. If Buchanan wasn’t the defense attorney, I’d say it was open and shut. But with the victim being a prostitute, it was a given that Buchanan would try to use that as a justification. Clearly, Rafael had already anticipated this, as there was an in-depth criminal record for the defendant and even evidence to make the victim look more like a saint. It was a strong case, and I told Rafael so—the real hurdle was Buchanan. We spent hours going over every piece of evidence, discussing everything, every possible defense, every argument that could be made. By the time we finished, the city outside was lit up with its nightlife. The clock on the wall read 9:30. Rafael had a massive smile on his face.

"You're every bit as good as Carisi said you would be," he smiled.

"I have to be," I replied with a small smile.

I could tell he wanted to press on my answer but held back, choosing to nod instead.

"So, you're happy to keep working for me?" Rafael asked.

"It would be my pleasure," I smiled.

"Great. I'll see you tomorrow at 8 at the 16th because, for every bit of good you are, you somehow managed to forget to pick up the files I asked for," Rafael smirked, my eyes widening in realization.

"Oh my gosh, I am so sorry! I completely forgot! Sonny is still working; I can run over to the 16th now and grab the files," I rushed to grab my phone, but before Rafael could speak, it rang. "Speak of the devil. Sonny, I was just about to call you."

"Great minds think alike. You still burning the midnight oil with Barba?" he chuckled.

"Yeah, I’m here with Barba. Why?" I asked, glancing at Rafael.

"Great! We’re all taking a break for dinner and wanted to see if you wanted to join us at Forlini’s?"

"That actually sounds amazing! We were just wrapping up here, so we’ll meet you there. Also, Sonny, could you bring along any cases you need us to look over? Please? I completely forgot to pick them up earlier," I added, feeling sheepish.

"Uh oh, first-day foul," Sonny laughed. "But yes, I can be an awesome big brother and bring them with me."

"Thank you, I owe you one," I hung up the phone and turned back to Barba. "The team is headed to Forlini’s for dinner and asked us to join."

"Sounds great to me," Rafael smiled.

We began packing up all the paperwork, slotting it back into the various files they had come from. Once everything was returned to its place, Rafael placed the files into a cabinet by his desk, grabbed his jacket, and slid it on while holding the office door open for me. I walked out as Rafael grabbed his briefcase and fell into step beside me, chatting about how, if he hadn’t been asked out for dinner with the team, he likely would have gone home and crashed without eating. I had to laugh and agree that I would have done the same.

I’d never been to Forlini’s, but Sonny had brought me food from there a few times, so I was looking forward to actually eating there for once. Rafael waved down a cab and told the driver where to go. When we pulled up in front of Forlini’s, Rafael had his wallet out and paid for the cab before I could protest. He climbed out first, holding the door open for me. My heart raced—he really was a gentleman.

Forlini’s was crowded, and Rafael placed his hand on the small of my back to guide me through the crowd. He said something about knowing where to find the others, but I couldn’t hear him over the noise. We came to a stop in front of a group of tables in the far back corner where Sonny, Fin, Amanda, Nick, and Olivia were already sitting, drinks in hand, laughing away.

"Should you be drinking if you’re still working?" Rafael chuckled, taking a seat and motioning for me to sit next to him.

"The only one here still working is Water Boy over there," Fin smirked, pointing at Sonny.

"Yeah, someone’s been neglecting their paperwork," Amanda laughed.

Sonny gave them a "stuff off" look before turning to me.

“Come è andato il primo giorno?” Sonny asked, leaning back in his chair. (How did the first day go?)

“È stato fantastico, perché?” I replied with a smile. (it was great, why?)

“Volevo solo assicurarmi che Barba ci andasse piano con te,” he said, a hint of concern in his voice. (I just wanted to make sure Barba went easy on you.)

“Ti preoccupi troppo,” I giggled, reaching for a menu in the middle of the table. (You worry too much)

It was at that point I noticed the entire table had fallen silent. Everyone was looking at Sonny and me with wide eyes, and Rafael looked like he was about to have an aneurysm. Clearly, Sonny hadn’t mentioned to anyone that he knew Italian.

“You speak Italian too?” Rafael was the first to break the silence.

“Uh, yes. Sonny never told any of you he could speak Italian?” I asked, looking around the table.

“No, he didn’t,” Olivia said, turning to Sonny. “What does Rafael mean by ‘you speak Italian too’?”

“Oh, I also speak Spanish,” I shrugged casually.

“Wow, Carisi, your sister’s amazing,” Nick smiled. “Veo que nos vamos a llevar bien, señorita.” (I can see we’re going to get along well, missy.)

“Hey, Amaro, eyes off my sister, alright?” Sonny pointed a finger at him, half-joking.

I couldn’t help but laugh at the two of them, and the rest of the table joined in. Rafael, however, seemed to be glaring at Nick. I decided it would be best to wait until it was just Rafael and me before asking what his problem with Nick was. I joined the conversation at the table, and the whole team treated me like I’d been working with them for years. I felt at ease with them faster than I had with anyone else. For the first time, I felt like I’d found where I belonged.

When dinner was over, Sonny handed the files I had left behind to Rafael and excused himself to return to the office. The others wandered off to their various homes, and Rafael offered to see me home, even though it meant traveling further than his own place. He hailed us another cab and held the door open while I climbed in. I gave the driver my address before turning to Rafael.

“Okay, spill it,” I said, watching him.

“What?” Rafael looked at me, caught off guard.

“You don’t like Nick. Why?” I asked directly.

“He’s a playboy. Ever since his wife divorced him, he’s been running through women like he needs them to breathe,” Rafael said, looking out the cab window. “I just don’t want to see him do the same to you. He’s already slept with Amanda and half the female officers in the 16th, so I wouldn’t put it past him to target you next.”

“I can take care of myself, but thank you for your concern,” I smiled, appreciating his protective nature.

The cab came to a stop in front of mine and Sonny’s apartment building. I wished Rafael goodnight before making my way inside, desperate for sleep before I had to be at the 16th at 8 a.m.

Got myself a little treat, can't wait to start them when I get home from working tonight.

Can I be added to the tag list for your objection series? It's so good but I don't check Tumblr often

Most certainly. I'm far from being finished with it. I still have so much I want to put in it.