Supernatural, Hunting, Living And Love Part 19

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.

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.

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.

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!

Can I request a Eddie Diaz x reader you work together and maybe make it similar to the Maddie plot where you get kidnapped and really injured but he finds you

I hope this is what you were after! I certainly enjoyed writing it. Thanks for requesting it.

Through The Dark

Edmundo 'Eddie' Diaz X Reader

4.1k word count

Summary When your kidnapped from the 118 Eddie becomes a man with a mission and nothing will get in his way.

The day started like any other at the 118.

The sun was already beating down on the asphalt as Buck and Eddie moved around the fire truck, prepping equipment with the easy rhythm of long practice. Eddie was double-checking the hoses while Buck swung open compartments, tossing a football lightly between his hands during every free second.

Across the bay, Hen and Chimney leaned into the back of the ambulance, rattling through their stock. The familiar sound of supplies clinking together echoed off the walls: saline bags, bandages, splints. The station hummed with the usual lazy energy of a morning before the inevitable chaos hit.

But there was something… off.

It was Hen who noticed first, her hand freezing over the trauma kit.

"Hey," she said, turning to Chimney with a slight frown. "You seen Y/N?"

Chimney paused mid-count, brows furrowing. "No. I figured she was already here. Y/N’s usually first in."

Eddie, overhearing, called over his shoulder, "Maybe she’s just running late?"

Buck spun the football in his hands. "Late for Y/N?" he said. "Nah, that's like... against the laws of physics."

The team exchanged glances. A strange, unspoken tension crept into the air.

Hen wiped her hands on her cargo pants and grabbed her radio. "Y/N, you copy?" she said, pressing the button. Static answered.

"Maybe she’s in the showers?" Buck offered, already moving toward the living quarters. "I'll check."

The firehouse, usually alive with movement and banter, suddenly felt too big, too quiet. As Buck jogged down the hall, a gnawing sense of worry tightened in his chest.

Something wasn't right.

And they were about to find out just how wrong things really were.

Buck came jogging back into the bay, shaking his head. "Nothing. Showers are empty. Locker room too."

Hen pulled out her phone, scrolling quickly to Y/N’s contact. "I'm calling her," she said, pressing dial. They all stood still, waiting, listening — but no ringtone echoed through the station. No hurried footsteps. No laugh.

Just silence.

Eddie wiped his hands on a rag, but it didn’t help. His palms were already clammy. His heart hammered against his ribs in a way that had nothing to do with work.

Where are you, Y/N?

He knew he shouldn’t panic — not yet. But he couldn't help it. He had been in love with her since the day she showed up at the 118, nerves visible but determination stronger. And since then, he'd hidden it. Buried it under years of jokes, teasing, pretending he was just another teammate.

Now all that restraint was crumbling. Fast.

"I'm checking Bobby’s office," Eddie muttered, already moving.

Buck and Chim followed without hesitation, Hen right behind them.

Bobby looked up from behind his desk as they pushed in. "Something wrong?" he asked, concern already flickering across his face.

"Have you heard from Y/N today?" Eddie demanded, sharper than he intended. His fists clenched at his sides.

Bobby’s frown deepened. "No. I figured she was out back, doing equipment checks. She clocked in last night for the overnight. Why?"

Eddie felt his stomach drop. She had been here. Something had happened.

Buck glanced at him, unease written all over his face. "She wouldn't just leave without telling someone."

Hen crossed her arms tightly across her chest. "This isn’t right, Bobby. Y/N would never."

Bobby grabbed his radio, his whole posture shifting from casual to urgent. "Alright. No assumptions. Full sweep of the station first. If we don't find her, we escalate."

But Eddie wasn’t waiting. His mind was already spinning worst-case scenarios, panic clawing at his chest. He barely heard Bobby giving orders, barely registered Buck calling after him.

He had to find her. Because this wasn’t just about a missing teammate.

This was about the woman he loved — and he was terrified he might already be too late.

…

The search of the station turned up nothing. No signs of Y/N — no note, no discarded gear, no hint of where she might have gone.

Bobby ordered Buck and Eddie to check her apartment while he and the others coordinated with dispatch. It wasn’t standard protocol, but none of them cared. Y/N was family — and families didn't sit around and wait.

Buck drove, Eddie riding shotgun, his knee bouncing with restless energy the entire way. Neither of them spoke much. What was there to say?

When they pulled up outside her building, Eddie was already unbuckling, practically jumping out before Buck even fully parked.

"Maybe she overslept?" Buck offered weakly, jogging to keep up as Eddie charged up the front steps.

"Y/N doesn't oversleep," Eddie snapped, pounding on her door. "Y/N’s the one who wakes us up."

He knocked again, harder. "Y/N! It's Eddie and Buck! You in there?"

No answer.

Buck tried the doorknob — locked — then looked down. No packages, no keys, no sign she'd come back after her shift.

Eddie's stomach twisted painfully.

He was about to suggest they try the manager for a key when Buck’s phone buzzed. He yanked it out of his pocket.

"It’s Hen."

Buck answered on speaker. "Hen, tell me you found something."

"I did," she said quickly, breathless. "You need to get back here. Now."

Eddie stiffened. "What is it?" His voice was rough, desperate.

"I found Y/N’s radio." Hen’s words were grim. "Stuffed behind the lockers. Like someone was trying to hide it."

Buck cursed under his breath.

Eddie felt like the floor tilted beneath him. Y/N would never ditch her radio. It was her lifeline. She treated that thing like it was a part of her body.

"I’m grabbing it now," Hen said. "Get back here. Something’s wrong."

Buck was already moving before the call disconnected, sprinting back to the truck.

Eddie stayed frozen for a second longer, staring at Y/N’s door. Something had happened. Something bad.

And he was running out of time to save her.

Buck barely waited for Eddie to slam his door shut before peeling away from the curb, tires screeching against the asphalt. Eddie gripped the dashboard, jaw clenched so tight it hurt.

Neither of them spoke on the way back — didn’t need to. The air in the cab was thick with fear.

When they pulled into the station, Eddie was out before the truck fully stopped, sprinting through the bay doors.

Inside, it was a whole different scene.

Bobby was at the center of it all, his expression grim. Standing beside him, already in uniform and radiating authority, was Athena.

Eddie’s heart twisted tighter. If Bobby had called in Athena, this was no longer a missing teammate situation — this was an active investigation.

Athena spotted them and came over immediately. Her voice was calm but firm, the kind of calm that made Eddie even more nervous.

"Bobby filled me in," she said. "Hen found Y/N’s radio hidden behind the lockers. That’s enough for me to start a formal missing persons report."

"She wouldn’t leave without her radio," Eddie said hoarsely. He could hear the tremble in his own voice and hated it.

Athena’s gaze softened just slightly. "I know. Which means we treat this like foul play until we know otherwise."

Bobby stepped forward. "I’ve already locked down the station. No one in or out unless they’re part of the investigation. Dispatch is rerouting calls to the other houses."

Hen appeared beside them, holding a clear evidence bag with Y/N’s radio inside. The sight of it made Eddie’s stomach churn.

"There’s more," Hen said. "The clip on the radio is busted. Like someone ripped it off."

Athena nodded tightly. "Alright. First step — we canvas the station again, top to bottom. If Y/N left anything behind, a message, anything, we’ll find it."

"I want to help," Eddie said immediately, stepping closer, like he could physically force the universe to let him do something.

"You will," Athena promised. "But I need you sharp, Eddie. You, Buck, Hen, Chim — you know this station better than anyone. Look for anything out of place. Anything."

Eddie nodded, forcing himself to breathe.

Buck clapped a hand on his shoulder, grounding him. "We'll find her," he said under his breath. "We have to."

Eddie didn’t trust himself to answer. Because in his gut, he already knew — this wasn’t going to be simple. Someone had taken Y/N.

And he was going to tear the city apart if he had to, just to bring her home.

The station, usually filled with chatter and movement, was dead silent except for the sound of footsteps and the low crackle of Athena’s radio as she coordinated with patrol units outside.

Eddie, Buck, Hen, and Chimney split up, each taking a section of the building.

Eddie’s heart was hammering so loudly it drowned out everything else. He moved methodically — locker rooms, rec room, the kitchen. Nothing looked out of place, but he knew better than to trust appearances.

He found himself drawn back toward the bunkroom, where they all slept on long shifts.

He pushed open the door carefully.

The beds were neatly made, just like always. Sunlight filtered through the blinds in dusty beams.

Eddie scanned the room, every instinct on edge.

And then — something.

Barely visible under the edge of Y/N’s bunk, tucked up near the wall — a scrap of dark fabric.

Eddie crouched, reaching for it carefully.

It was a piece of Y/N’s uniform shirt. Torn, like it had been caught on something. And just beside it — tiny scuff marks on the floor, like there had been a struggle, quickly hidden.

"Eddie!" Buck’s voice echoed from down the hall. "You find something?"

"Yeah," Eddie called back, voice tight.

Buck came running, and Eddie held up the torn fabric.

Buck’s face went pale. "That’s hers."

Eddie nodded grimly. "Someone grabbed her here."

He could barely get the words out. Rage and fear warred in his chest, almost choking him.

Buck looked around the bunkroom, his eyes narrowing. "If there was a fight, maybe she left something else behind. A clue. Something we missed."

Eddie crouched lower, studying the baseboards, the bedframe — anything.

That’s when he saw it — carved into the underside of the wooden bed slat, just barely scratched deep enough to be visible:

5A

Eddie stared at it, his mind racing.

"What is that?" Buck asked, crouching beside him.

"Room number?" Eddie guessed. "Locker? Storage?"

They both exchanged a look — knowing time was running out.

Without waiting for backup, Eddie bolted out of the bunkroom, Buck on his heels. They had a firehouse to tear apart — and a message from Y/N to decode.

And Eddie swore to himself — he wasn’t leaving without her.

Eddie didn’t stop moving as he charged back into the main bay, "5A" burning into his brain like a brand.

"Bobby!" he called, waving the others over.

Bobby, Athena, Hen, and Chim all converged immediately, tension crackling in the air.

"We found this," Eddie said, holding up the torn piece of Y/N’s uniform. "There were scuff marks near her bunk — and this—" he pointed to Buck, who pulled up a photo on his phone of the carving under the bed slat, "5A."

Athena leaned in, frowning hard. "5A? What's that mean?"

"I don't think it’s inside the station," Eddie said, breathing hard. "Y/N had seconds — if she could scratch that in, she must have known where she was being taken."

Bobby’s face was grim. "5A... it could be a vehicle. A plate number. A storage unit. An apartment."

Athena was already moving, radioing her team. "Start pulling street cam footage near the station. Look for anything suspicious around shift change. A van, a car, anything with a 5A on the plates."

"There's a side alley," Hen said suddenly, snapping her fingers. "By the maintenance exit. Cameras don’t reach it. If someone wanted to grab her without being seen..."

"They’d use that," Eddie finished, already sprinting toward the maintenance door.

They burst outside into the narrow alley. The sun beat down on the concrete, harsh and unrelenting.

It looked empty — no obvious signs of a struggle.

But Eddie’s instincts screamed at him to look closer.

Buck scanned the ground. "Wait—" he pointed. "Tire tracks. Fresh."

Athena crouched beside them, professional but clearly rattled. "Two sets. One small, one larger — like a truck or a van."

"And here," Eddie said, pointing to the brick wall. It was faint — almost nothing — but a set of scraped marks, like someone had been dragged, boots scraping desperately for purchase.

Buck swore under his breath.

Eddie turned a slow circle, trying to breathe through the rising panic. Y/N was gone. She was outside the station — taken.

But she hadn’t gone quietly. She’d fought. Left them clues. She believed they’d find her.

Eddie clenched his fists, every muscle in his body vibrating with rage and fear.

"We get that footage," Athena said, already dialing. "We pull traffic cams. Every feed in a five-block radius. We find that van."

"And when we do," Eddie said, voice low and shaking with the force of it, "we're bringing her home."

No one argued.

Because they all knew — nothing, nothing — would stop him.

Back inside the station, Athena coordinated with officers across the city, barking orders into her radio. Bobby paced like a caged animal. Hen and Chim ran through street cam feeds on a laptop, scrubbing footage frame by frame.

Eddie stood frozen in the middle of it all, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides, heart hammering so hard it hurt.

It’s not enough. We’re too slow. She’s out there. Alone.

Buck noticed, stepping up beside him. "Hey. Breathe, man. Athena’s gonna find something."

But Eddie shook his head, frustration boiling over.

"I can’t just stand here!" he snapped. His voice echoed across the bay, making everyone glance up.

Athena shot him a sharp look — but Eddie didn’t care. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, just knowing Y/N was scared, hurting, maybe worse, while he stood here doing nothing.

He scrubbed a hand through his hair, pacing in a tight circle. Think, Diaz. THINK.

"5A." "5A." The number kept spinning in his head.

And then — like a fist to the gut — he remembered.

Weeks ago. Late-night conversation after a rough call. Y/N sitting across from him, laughing softly, looking tired but beautiful. Talking about how she hated her ex-boyfriend — the manipulative jerk she'd finally left for good.

"I used to live in Unit 5A of the building we were at," she had said, rolling her eyes. "Worst six months of my life."

Eddie froze, blood running cold.

"5A," he whispered.

Buck frowned. "What?"

"Her ex’s apartment," Eddie said hoarsely, turning to face him. "She lived there with him — Unit 5A."

Realization hit Buck like a freight train. "You think he took her?"

"I don’t think," Eddie growled. "I know."

Without waiting for permission, Eddie snatched the keys off the hook and headed for one of the station SUVs.

Buck was right behind him. "Let’s go."

Bobby started to call after them, but Athena caught his arm. "Let them," she said quietly. "They’re her best shot right now."

Buck drove while Eddie rattled off the address from memory — he'd made her laugh so hard that night mimicking her ex’s dramatic, whiny voice.

Now it felt like acid in his mouth.

As they weaved through traffic, Eddie’s hands shook in his lap, rage and terror fighting for dominance.

Hold on, Y/N, he thought fiercely. Hold on. I'm coming.

…

The city’s noise seemed miles away as Eddie and Buck raced toward the apartment building. Every second felt like an eternity. Eddie’s heart pounded in his chest, and his hands trembled, his thoughts drowning in one singular focus: finding Y/N.

When they reached the building, Eddie was out of the SUV before it even stopped, running toward the front door with Buck on his heels.

They didn’t knock.

Eddie slammed his fist into the doorframe of the apartment before stepping inside, his eyes scanning the dimly lit space.

The man was on the couch, his scruffy face pale with panic as he scrambled to his feet. His hand reached toward his waistband.

"Where is she?" Eddie’s voice was a growl, low and dangerous. "Tell me where she is right now."

The man froze, eyes flicking nervously between Eddie and Buck. "I—I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Eddie’s eyes narrowed, and in one fluid motion, he grabbed the man by the collar and slammed him back against the wall.

"Don’t lie to me," Eddie hissed. "She’s here. You took her."

Buck stepped up, placing a hand on Eddie’s arm. "Easy, man. Let’s just—"

"Shut up!" Eddie snapped, not looking at Buck. He wasn’t listening. He couldn’t, not with Y/N out there, alone, scared, hurt.

The man looked terrified but slowly backed up, hands raised in submission. "Okay, okay. She’s back there," he stammered, nodding toward a hallway at the back of the apartment. "I didn’t—didn’t. I just didn’t want her to leave”

Eddie didn’t wait for the rest of his confession. He was already pushing past him, running down the narrow hallway, his chest tight with fear.

When they reached the last room, the sight that met Eddie was enough to stop him cold.

Y/N was sitting against the wall, her legs drawn up to her chest. She looked so small. So fragile. Her clothes were torn and stained with blood. Her face was bruised, her lips cracked and swollen, one eye nearly swollen shut. Her arms were marked with deep red scratches and faint bruises. Every part of her seemed broken — physically, emotionally.

Eddie’s heart shattered at the sight of her, his whole body instinctively reaching for her. "Y/N," he whispered, his voice catching as he dropped to his knees in front of her. His hands gently cupped her face, trembling with barely contained fear. "Oh, god, I thought—"

Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, her gaze unfocused at first. But when she saw Eddie, a flicker of recognition passed through her, and her lips trembled as she whispered his name.

"Eddie..." She tried to speak, but her voice was weak, barely audible.

"Shh," Eddie breathed, gently pressing his forehead to hers. "You’re safe. We’re gonna get you out of here, I swear. I’m not leaving you."

She tried to push herself up, but the effort was too much. She collapsed back against the wall, exhaustion and pain too much for her to bear. "I—I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice thick with pain. "I... I couldn’t... I fought... but—"

Eddie’s eyes were fierce, his grip tightening around her hand. "You did fight, Y/N. You’re here. You’re alive. You did everything you could, okay? You hear me?"

She closed her eyes, a single tear slipping down her battered cheek as she nodded weakly.

Buck appeared behind Eddie, stepping back into the room. "Athena’s on her way."

Eddie nodded, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. He pulled Y/N into his arms, careful of her bruised body, his heart breaking all over again at how fragile she felt in his hold.

"Hold on, Y/N," he whispered into her ear, his voice barely more than a hoarse breath. "We’re getting you out of here."

She leaned into him, but the pain was obvious in the way her body trembled. "Please," she whispered, barely audible. "Don’t leave me..."

Eddie held her tighter, desperate. "Never again. I’m not going anywhere without you."

Eddie carefully lifted Y/N into his arms, cradling her close, and despite the pain she was in, she rested her head against his chest. Her breath was shallow, her body trembling from the shock, but Eddie held her like she was the most fragile thing in the world, moving quickly but gently.

Buck grabbed the man, now cowering on the floor, and yanked him up by the collar. "You’re not getting away with this," Buck growled, shoving the guy toward the front door. "The cops are on their way. They’ll deal with you."

Eddie didn’t look back. His focus was entirely on Y/N.

Her head rolled slightly to the side as she looked up at him, her gaze unfocused. "I didn’t think... I thought you wouldn’t find me... I didn’t know if I could hold on..."

"Hey," Eddie said softly, his voice breaking, a quiet desperation beneath his calm exterior. "You’re here. You’re alive. We found you." He started to walk out of the apartment, his heart a twisted knot of relief and guilt. She shouldn’t have gone through this. I should have protected her,

The moment they stepped outside, Buck turned to him. "We need to get her to the hospital, Eddie."

"I know," Eddie said, already heading for the SUV, his footsteps quick but careful as he moved through the dim hallway.

At the hospital, everything happened in a blur.

Nurses rushed to Y/N’s side, pulling her from Eddie’s arms and onto a gurney. The beeping of monitors, the urgency in their voices — all of it echoed in Eddie’s mind, muffled, as he stood frozen at the foot of the bed. His chest felt tight, like someone had shoved a weight into his lungs.

He watched them work on her — cleaning her cuts, bandaging the bruises, stabilizing her, but through it all, Eddie couldn’t shake the image of her battered, broken form sitting on the floor in that apartment. The pain she’d endured. The fear in her eyes when she first saw him.

The hospital staff finally left, giving them a moment of quiet. The room was dim, the sterile scent of antiseptic lingering in the air. Eddie took a seat beside her bed, his body tense but his hand gently brushing against her uninjured one.

"Y/N," he whispered, his voice low and rough. "I’m so sorry. I should’ve—"

She turned her head slowly, eyes fluttering open. Her face was pale, but her lips curled into a weak, painful smile. "You found me," she murmured. "I knew you would."

Eddie’s throat tightened. He hated seeing her like this, hated knowing that she’d been through hell — and he hadn’t been there. He hadn’t been able to stop it.

"I should’ve been there sooner," Eddie whispered, his hand gripping hers, as though holding on to her might make up for the time he lost.

"Hey," Y/N said softly, her voice barely audible. "You found me. That’s all that matters."

Eddie shook his head, a mixture of relief and guilt churning inside him. "It wasn’t enough, Y/N. You shouldn’t have had to go through that. I should’ve protected you—"

Y/N squeezed his hand, her grip surprisingly strong despite her injuries. "Eddie, listen to me." Her voice was still shaky, but there was a determination in it that made his heart skip a beat. "You didn’t let me down. You never could. You kept looking for me, and that’s all that matters. You’re here. You saved me."

He stared at her for a long moment, his chest tight as he tried to swallow the emotions flooding him. Saved her. That was the word she used. But she had saved herself, too — she'd fought, she'd held on.

Eddie could feel it then — the crushing weight of everything he’d been keeping inside for so long. The way his heart seemed to crack open, pulling him closer to her, making him realize just how much she meant to him. He could never put it into words, not in this moment, but he knew.

He knew that he’d been in love with her for so long, it hurt.

Y/N slowly reached up, her fingers brushing against his cheek, her touch soft but grounding. "Eddie," she whispered, her voice still hoarse. "You don’t have to say anything. I’m here. You’re here. That’s enough."

Eddie nodded, his throat tight, his emotions threatening to spill over. He wanted to tell her everything. He wanted to hold her until this whole nightmare felt like it was finally over. But instead, he simply leaned down, resting his forehead against hers, his eyes closing for a brief moment.

"I’m here," he repeated, his voice barely audible. "And I’m not going anywhere."

Hours passed, and Y/N was sedated, resting in a peaceful sleep under the watchful care of doctors and nurses. Eddie stayed by her side, not caring about the world outside the hospital room. Buck had stopped by, giving him a brief, understanding glance before leaving them alone.

But Eddie couldn’t leave. Not now. Not after everything she had been through.

And when she woke again, her hand reached out for him, her fingers trembling.

Eddie took her hand gently, pressing it to his lips. "I’m not leaving you," he promised again, and this time, he meant it in a way that felt deeper than before.

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes filled with exhaustion but trust. She smiled weakly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t want you to."

And that was enough.

The time has come!

Cannoli's and Carisi's

Sonny Carisi x fem!reader

391 word count

fluff tooth rotting fluffy. So much tooth rotting fluff you may want a dentist on standby.

Sunday dinner had become a tradition. Ever since Sonny introduced me to his parents, we made the trip to Staten Island every week for Sunday dinner. But this Sunday was special—it was Christmas.

The kitchen smelled of cinnamon and vanilla as I carefully filled the cannoli shells, placing each one neatly onto a plate. The creamy ricotta mixture was smooth beneath my spoon, and I couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride at how perfect they looked.

Just as I finished another, I felt a warm presence behind me. Sonny strolled in, grinning, and before I could react, he snatched a finished cannoli from the plate.

“Hey!” I scolded, but he only grinned wider as he bit into it, chewing quickly before finishing it off in a second bite.

“Mmm,” he hummed in approval, licking a stray bit of cream from his thumb. “Babe, these are amazing. You could open a bakery.”

I rolled my eyes. “Dominick Carisi Jr.,” I said, crossing my arms. “What would your mother think, stealing cannolis before dinner?”

Sonny, completely unbothered, reached for another. “Ma used to let me eat them as she made ‘em,” he said, flashing me his best innocent look.

I scoffed. “Liar.”

He gasped dramatically, placing a hand on his chest. “Are you calling me a liar?”

“Yes.” I giggled, trying to shove him away as he wrapped his arms around my waist. He pulled me into a warm hug, his laughter vibrating against my back.

Before I could react, he swiped a finger through the cannoli filling and smeared it across my nose. I gasped. “Sonny!”

The kitchen filled with laughter as I playfully swatted at him, my heart full and warm despite the chilly winter air outside. He caught my hands in his, pulling me close once more. His eyes softened, his usual playful demeanor replaced with something more tender.

“You know,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from my face, “I’m the luckiest guy in the world.”

“Oh yeah?” I teased, still slightly breathless from our little game.

He nodded, his expression earnest. “Because I met you. Because you love me.”

I smiled, reaching up to touch his cheek. “I do love you.”

And as he kissed me, I knew that no matter how chaotic these Sunday dinners could get, they would always be my favorite tradition.

The amount of awkward I feel cannot be accurately quantified right now. I'm currently sitting on a bus travelling to the next town over with a bunch of school kids. Behind me is 2 girls that I'm guessing are about 15/16. Apparently, they have been spying on my phone and text messages and they saw I was talking to my finance whose saved in my phone as 'My Man's' and ask me if the guy in the pink hoodie on my home screen is my boyfriend because his cute.....MY HOMESCREENS FRICKEN OLIVER STARK. Like girls in my dreams.

The homescreen photo in question.

Objection! Part 10

Rafael Barba x fem!Carisi!reader

4.7k 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 rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound in the dim hospital room. I sat still, my fingers laced together, resting on my lap. The chair was stiff and uncomfortable, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t leaving. Not now. Not until she woke up.

Y/N looked so small in the hospital bed, her face pale against the stark white sheets. I had braced myself for bruises, for some visible proof of the nightmare she had been through, but there was nothing—just the eerie stillness that came from the drugs still lingering in her system. The doctors had assured us she would wake up soon, but every passing minute felt like an eternity.

Sonny had been the one asking the doctors all the right questions, demanding more when vague reassurances weren’t enough. I had stayed quiet, letting him take the lead. It wasn’t my place to interfere. I had no right to claim any authority over her—not in Sonny’s eyes, not even in my own. It was enough that he had let me stay.

Olivia had come and gone, updating us on Marco’s arrest. He was locked away in Attica with no bail. That should have given me some peace, but then she mentioned Jack McCoy bringing in Peter Stone to handle the case. Anger had flared in my chest at the thought of being sidelined, but Olivia had shut it down quickly. You’re too close to this, Rafael. You were his main target, he used her to get to you. And deep down, I knew she was right.

Now, the room was silent again. Visiting hours had passed, and Sonny had reluctantly gone home to shower and eat. He had promised to be back soon, but I barely registered his departure.

Alone with Y/N, I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the edge of her bed. My eyes traced every familiar feature—the curve of her lips, the way her eyelashes cast soft shadows on her cheeks, the steady rise and fall of her chest.

I swallowed hard, gripping the blanket as I exhaled shakily. “You scared the hell out of me,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

She didn’t stir.

A humourless chuckle escaped me as I ran a tired hand down my face. “I should have told you,” I said, my voice rough with exhaustion. “I should have told you a long time ago. But I was a coward. I told myself it was better this way—that you deserved something simple, someone who wouldn’t complicate your life. Dios soy un idiota” (God I’m an idiot)

I shook my head, my jaw tightening. “But I love you.” The words felt heavy, like they had been waiting too long to be spoken. “I have for a long time. And I will protect you, from this day forward, even if you never hear me say this.”

Hesitantly, I reached out, letting my fingers brush over the back of her hand. She was warm. Alive. And that was the only thing that mattered.

I stayed like that, my hand resting over hers, as the hours stretched on.

Sonny was so quiet when he came back that his voice startled me, making me jerk back from Y/N’s bedside like a guilty teenager caught sneaking out. My heart pounded as I turned toward him, but there was no anger on his face, no judgment. Just quiet understanding.

He sighed, settling back into the chair across from me. “Relax, Barba. I’m not gonna yell at you.”

I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to unclench my fists. After a brief hesitation, I reached for Y/N’s hand again, letting my fingers curl around hers. Sonny watched but didn’t say anything at first, just resting his elbows on his knees as he studied me.

Then, after a long pause, he asked, “When did you realize it?”

I frowned. “Realize what?”

“That you love her.”

The question caught me off guard. I opened my mouth, then closed it again, trying to gather my thoughts. When had I realized it? Had it been all at once, some grand revelation? Or had it crept up on me over time, settling into my bones before I even understood it was there?

Sonny must have seen the conflict on my face because he kept going. “Why her? And why the hell didn’t you tell her?”

I let out a heavy breath, running a hand over my face. “Because I was afraid,” I admitted. “Because she deserves better than someone like me—someone who lives in a courtroom, who puts work before everything, who ruins every relationship he’s ever had.”

Sonny scoffed. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

I shot him a look, but he only leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. “Look, I get it. You think you’re protecting her. But you’re wrong. You think Y/N doesn’t know who you are? That she hasn’t already decided you’re worth it?”

His words settled deep, but before I could respond, he smirked. “You know, we had a bet going. Well Finn, Amanda and Nick did I wanted no part of it.”

I blinked. “A bet?”

Sonny chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah. Back in the squad room, her second day working with you. Finn, Amanda, and Amaro—they all bet on how long it would take before you two figured it out.”

My stomach twisted. “Figured what out?”

“That you were in love with each other.”

The air felt too thick in my lungs. “You’re joking.”

Sonny grinned. “Wish I was. Amaro said a month. Amanda gave it three. Finn? He was the only one who said it’d take over a year. He figured you’d be stubborn about it.” He paused, tilting his head. “Looks like he was right.”

I let out a quiet laugh, though it was more disbelief than amusement. “And Y/N?” I asked cautiously. “What did she say about all this?”

Sonny’s smirk softened. “She never denied it, Barba. Never. If anything, she just got flustered whenever we brought it up.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “She loves you, man. I know it. Even if I don’t want to believe it.”

I swallowed hard, my grip tightening around Y/N’s hand.

I wanted to believe him. God, I needed to believe him. But right now, all that mattered was her waking up.

And when she did, I had no intention of letting another second slip by.

Sonny asked me again, his voice quieter this time. “When did you realize it?”

I exhaled slowly, staring down at Y/N’s hand in mine. The steady rhythm of the heart monitor filled the silence between us, a reminder that she was still here, still fighting her way back to us.

“I don’t know,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “It wasn’t some grand moment of clarity. It wasn’t like the movies where everything suddenly clicks into place. It just… built up over time.”

Sonny didn’t interrupt, just watched me, waiting.

“I think—” I hesitated, struggling to put the weight of my feelings into words. “I think I was already in love with her before I even realized it. It wasn’t one thing. It was a hundred little things. The way she argued with me but always listened. The way she laughed when she thought no one was paying attention. How she never backed down, even when she was scared.”

I let out a quiet, bitter chuckle. “By the time I understood what I was feeling, it was too late. I was already gone.”

Sonny nodded slowly, as if he’d expected that answer. “So what are you gonna do about it?”

I looked at Y/N’s face—still, peaceful, but too pale under the harsh hospital lighting.

“I’m going to tell her,” I said firmly. “As soon as she wakes up, I’m telling her everything.”

Sonny huffed a laugh. “About damn time. But I’m telling you now. You hurt her, you put her in harms away again I will make sure you pay.”

…

Sonny and I must have dozed off at some point, exhaustion finally catching up to us despite the uncomfortable hospital chairs. The steady beeping of the monitors and the low hum of the hospital had lulled us into a restless sleep.

Then, a soft whimper broke through the quiet.

My eyes snapped open, my body jolting upright as I turned toward the bed. Y/N shifted slightly, her face contorted in distress. Sonny was already moving, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as we both surged to our feet, leaning over her.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay,” I said quickly, my voice thick with sleep but urgent with reassurance.

“Y/N, it’s me,” Sonny added, his hand resting gently on her arm. “You’re safe. We got you.”

Her glassy eyes darted between us, blinking rapidly as if trying to piece together where she was, what had happened. Then, as realization hit, her entire face crumpled.

A choked sob escaped her lips, and before I could say anything else, she broke down completely.

Tears spilled over her cheeks as she clutched at the thin hospital blanket, her body shaking with the force of her emotions. Sonny immediately reached for her hand, murmuring reassurances, while I felt frozen in place, my chest tightening at the sight of her like this.

She was here. She was alive. But she was hurting.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to push past the lump in my throat. I reached out hesitantly, brushing a stray tear from her cheek. “You’re safe now,” I whispered. “I swear.”

She didn’t say anything, just squeezed both our hands so tightly it was as if she was grounding herself in our presence. And in that moment, nothing else mattered.

…

Y/N's P.O.V

When I finally felt steady enough to breathe without sobbing, I forced myself to look up. My eyes flickered between Sonny and Rafael, both of them hovering over me, their faces drawn with worry. My heart was still racing, my body trembling, but their hands in mine were real, solid. I wasn’t alone.

I swallowed hard, my throat raw. “What… what did Marco do to me?” My voice cracked, and I hated how small I sounded.

Sonny and Rafael exchanged a glance—one of those silent conversations that spoke volumes. It made my stomach twist.

“Y/N,” Rafael started gently, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “He drugged you. Knocked you out before you could fight back.”

I sucked in a shaky breath. That explained the fog in my head, the exhaustion weighing me down like an anchor.

“He hid you beneath the docks at Coney Island,” Sonny added, his voice tight, like he was still holding back his anger. “Left you there to drown when the tide came in.”

My stomach turned violently, nausea clawing its way up my throat. The idea of being trapped, helpless, slowly swallowed by the ocean—God.

“But he didn’t—” My voice broke, and I forced myself to meet their eyes. “He didn’t hurt me? In any other way?”

Rafael’s grip on my hand tightened. “No,” he said firmly.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, my body sagging against the pillows. My hands were still shaking, but at least now, I knew. I wasn’t sure if that made it better or worse.

A beat of silence passed before I whispered, “I was so scared.”

Sonny let out a shaky breath and reached up, smoothing my hair back like he used to when we were kids. “I know,” he murmured. “But you don’t have to be anymore.”

I turned my gaze to Rafael. His jaw was clenched, his eyes dark with something I couldn’t quite name. Guilt? Regret? Maybe both.

“You saved me,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

“We weren’t going to let anything happen to you,” Rafael said, his voice thick with emotion.

I squeezed their hands again, grounding myself in their presence. I was safe. I took a shaky breath, letting their words settle, but one more question burned at the back of my mind. My fingers tightened around Rafael’s hand as I turned my gaze between them. “Where is he?” My voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.

They didn’t have to ask who I meant.

“Locked up,” Sonny said immediately, his voice firm and sure. “Attica. No bail. He’s not getting out, Y/N.”

I let that sink in. Marco was gone. He couldn’t hurt me anymore. The fear still sat heavy in my chest, but it wasn’t as suffocating as before.

Sonny must have noticed the exhaustion weighing on me because he gave me a small, reassuring smile and leaned down, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Get some rest, okay? We’ll be back in the morning.”

I frowned slightly, not wanting them to go just yet. But before I could say anything, Sonny smirked and added, “Not like we’ll have much of a choice. No doubt the whole squad will be here first thing.”

Despite everything, I let out a small, tired laugh. “And Ma?”

“Oh, don’t even get me started,” Sonny groaned. “I basically had to threaten to drive to Staten Island and take Ma’s car keys to keep her from driving up here tonight. And I’m sure by now she’s called our sisters and probably Dad, too.”

I sighed, a small smile tugging at my lips. “So, basically, I should expect an invasion first thing in the morning.”

Sonny grinned. “Oh yeah. Prepare yourself.”

Rafael squeezed my hand gently. “Get some sleep, querida. We’ll be back soon.”

I nodded, the weight of everything finally settling into my bones. As I let my eyes slip shut, I felt their presence beside me, steady and unwavering.

…

By the time breakfast arrived, I was feeling a little more like myself. The woman who brought in the tray of food gave me a warm smile, setting it down gently, and not long after, a nurse came in to check my vitals and draw some blood, to make sure the drugs where clearing my system she said. She assured me everything was looking good and that I just needed to rest.

Once she left, I sighed, settling back against the pillows. The food wasn’t great, but I forced myself to eat it, knowing I needed the energy. I had just pushed the tray aside when the scent hit me.

Cannoli.

Fresh, homemade cannoli.

I barely had time to brace myself before the door burst open, the sound of hurried footsteps and overlapping voices filling the room. Sonny strode in first, his expression tense but relieved, followed closely by Ma, our sisters, and Mia, who was practically bouncing with excitement. The second Ma laid eyes on me, she let out a dramatic gasp, her hands flying up as if she’d just seen a ghost.

"Oh, tesoro mio!"she cried, rushing forward like a woman on a mission.

I barely had time to react before she was on me, cupping my face between her warm hands, her sharp eyes scanning me up and down like she was expecting to find some horrible injury the doctors had somehow missed. She turned my head left, then right, then smoothed my hair down as if that would somehow fix everything.

Then, with a dramatic shake of her head, she declared, "This—this is why you shouldn’t be doing a man’s job!"

I groaned internally. Here we go.

"Ma—" I started, but she wasn’t finished.

"I told you, didn’t I? I told you!" She threw her hands in the air, as if pleading with the heavens. "You should be a nurse! Or a teacher! Something safe! Or better yet, find a nice, wealthy man to take care of you!"

Sonny groaned, rubbing his temples like this was a conversation they’d had one too many times before. "Ma, not now."

But she wasn’t listening to him. She never listened when she was on a roll.

"You look pale! You need to eat!" she announced, already rummaging through the oversized purse slung over her shoulder. Within seconds, she pulled out a foil-wrapped container, peeling back the layers with the precision of someone who had done this a thousand times before. The rich, sweet scent of fresh cannoli filled the air, and before I knew it, she was shoving one toward my face.

"Here. Eat, eat!" she insisted, her voice leaving no room for argument.

I huffed a laugh despite myself, shaking my head. "Ma, I—"

"No arguing!" she interrupted, eyes narrowing in warning. "You need to keep your strength up, poverina!"

Mia, who had climbed up onto the edge of my hospital bed with all the grace of an energetic seventeen-year-old, giggled at the scene unfolding before her. "You might as well just take it," she said with a knowing grin. "Nonna’s not gonna let up until you do."

I shot Sonny a desperate look, silently pleading for help, but he just smirked and shrugged like I was on my own. Traitor.

Defeated, I took the cannoli from Ma’s expectant hands and bit into it. The crispy shell cracked slightly under the pressure, giving way to the creamy ricotta filling, rich with hints of vanilla and citrus, and the perfect touch of chocolate. It was heaven.

I sighed, closing my eyes for a brief moment, savoring the familiar taste of home. When I looked back up, Ma was beaming like she had just personally saved my life.

"See? Much better!" she declared, crossing her arms in satisfaction.

I rolled my eyes, but deep down, I couldn’t help the warmth that spread through my chest. The chaos, the fussing, the smothering concern—it was all so familiar, so them. No matter what had happened, no matter how close I had come to losing everything, I knew this much was true.

I was safe. I was loved.

Shortly after, the door swung open again, and in came Olivia, Amanda, Finn, Amaro, and Rafael, all armed with balloons and flowers. The room was already crowded with my family, but somehow, they all managed to squeeze in.

"You guys didn’t have to come," I said, shaking my head. "As soon as the doctors confirm the drugs are out of my system, I’ll be on my way home anyway."

The room was already a whirlwind of noise and movement, but in the middle of it all, I caught a flicker of something on Rafael’s face—concern, hesitation, like there was something on his mind he wasn’t saying. But before I could dwell on it, a strangled noise cut through the chatter.

Amanda.

Her face scrunched up in clear discomfort, her nose wrinkling as she fought off what looked like a serious wave of nausea.

I glanced at her, then down at the half-eaten cannoli in my hand. My mind connected the dots in an instant, and my eyes widened as realization hit me like a freight train.

"Amanda," I said slowly, my lips already curling into a knowing grin. "Are you pregnant?"

She hesitated just for a second, her expression unreadable, before a smirk—one I knew all too well—spread across her face. Then, she nodded.

Chaos. Absolute, immediate chaos.

Olivia gasped, her eyes lighting up. Finn clapped Amanda on the back with a proud laugh, while Amaro’s face split into a grin, giving her one of those quiet, brotherly nods of approval.

Sonny, standing just beside me, froze.

For the briefest moment, barely a heartbeat, I saw something flicker across his face. A look of heartbreak—raw, aching, there and gone in an instant.

Then, just as quickly, it was buried. He pulled himself together, pasted on a grin, and jumped straight into interrogation mode. "Does the baby’s father know yet?" he asked, folding his arms like he was about to personally hunt the guy down if the answer was anything less than satisfactory.

Meanwhile, Ma had her hands over her heart, already launching into a passionate speech about the joys and struggles of motherhood, rattling off old family sayings and promising Amanda she would never sleep the same again.

I just sat there, watching the chaos unfold with a wide grin as Amanda rolled her eyes at all the attention.

"That explains the face you made when you smelled the cannoli," I teased, nudging her playfully.

She groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Don’t even talk about it. Just the thought makes me want to hurl."

I laughed, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep in my chest, warm and unburdened.

For the first time since everything had happened—since the fear, the uncertainty, the pain—I felt it.

A moment of pure, simple joy.

And after everything, that was exactly what I needed.

…

Rafael’s P.O.V

As the celebration continued, I pulled Sonny aside, lowering my voice so the others wouldn’t hear.

"Give me your keys," I said.

Sonny frowned. "Why?"

"I want to clean up Y/N’s room if you haven’t already," I admitted. "After everything, she should come home to something… normal."

Sonny let out a short laugh, shaking his head as he fished the keys from his pocket. "Just stay out of her underwear drawer, Barba," he teased, handing them over.

I rolled my eyes but took the keys without another word.

The drive to Sonny’s place was quiet, giving me too much time alone with my thoughts. When I finally arrived, I let myself in and made my way to Y/N’s room. The mess was worse than I remembered—clothes scattered, books out of place, the bed unmade from the last time she slept in it. We had torn through everything, desperate for any clue that could’ve led us to her.

I sighed, rolling up my sleeves, and got to work.

I made her bed, smoothing out the sheets with deliberate care. The fabric was slightly rumpled from where we’d torn through the room in our desperate search for answers, but I pulled the blankets tight, tucking them in. I fluffed her pillows, setting them neatly at the head of the bed, making sure everything looked just right—just hoping it was how she liked it.

It struck me then, standing there in the quiet, how little I actually knew about the details of her life. I knew her wit, her fire, the way she held her own in an argument, how she carried herself with an unshakable confidence even when the odds were stacked against her. But this—this space, the things she surrounded herself with—felt like a different kind of intimacy. One I had never really considered before.

My eyes landed on a small, worn plush toy resting on the floor near the nightstand. A chinchilla—of all things. Its fur was faded in places, one ear slightly bent in a way that suggested it had been held tightly, repeatedly, over the years. I crouched down, picking it up carefully. It was soft, delicate, clearly a childhood favorite. I wondered if it had been a gift, or if she had picked it out herself as a kid. Did she still reach for it when she had nightmares? When the weight of the job got too heavy?

I brushed off a bit of dust before placing it gently on her bed, tucking it against her pillow. It felt like putting a piece of her back where it belonged.

Turning my focused on the clothes strewn across the room—crumpled on the floor, draped over the chair by her desk, kicked halfway under the bed. I gathered them up, sorting them into piles: shirts, pants, underthings. I hesitated over a worn Backstreet Boys sweatshirt before folding it carefully. Had she been a fan? I didn’t even know what music she liked, who her faviroute artist was. That realization sat uncomfortably in my chest.

I bundled the laundry into a basket and carried it down to the building’s laundry room, starting a wash cycle before leaning against the machine. The rhythmic hum filled the silence, but it didn’t quiet my thoughts.

When I returned to her room, my gaze fell on her bookshelves—four of them, floor-to-ceiling, overflowing with books that had been thrown into disarray. Some were lying sideways, others stacked hastily, their usual order ruined. I had seen her collection at the office, had watched her run a finger along the spines as she searched for a title, but I had never really looked at them.

I ran my fingers over the covers as I picked them up, flipping them over to scan the summaries. Classic literature. True crime. Philosophy. A few well-worn romance novels that looked like they had been read and reread a dozen times. That caught me off guard. Did she believe in love stories? I had never thought to ask.

I placed each book back in its rightful place, aligning them carefully. I had assumed she organized them alphabetically because that was how she did it at work, but now I wasn’t so sure. Maybe it wasn’t about efficiency. Maybe it was about control. About having something in her life that stayed exactly the way she put it.

Her desk drew my attention, torn apart by Sonny. Papers scattered across the surface, notes scribbled in the margins of case files. A half-finished crossword puzzle. Pens rolling near the edge. A mug—long since emptied—sitting precariously close to toppling over. I reached for it, turning it in my hands. The logo was faded, the words barely visible. A souvenir from a vacation? A gift?I set it back down, wiping the desk clean.

I had spent years working beside her, but in this moment, surrounded by the details of her life, I realized how little I actually knew her. Not just the Y/N I argued next to in court, not the ADA who fought tooth and nail for justice, but the woman who curled up with old paperbacks, who kept a childhood stuffed animal on her bed, who left crossword puzzles unfinished.

By the time I retrieved her laundry and started folding, the room looked untouched, like the chaos of the last few days had never happened. But in my chest, something had shifted.

And that was when the front door opened.

I froze. Footsteps echoed across the living room, and before I could react, Y/N stepped into the room.

She stopped short, her eyes scanning the room before landing on me. Confusion flickered across her face before realization set in.

I swallowed, guilt washing over me.

"I—" I hesitated, then exhaled. "I’m sorry. We tore your room apart looking for clues during Marco’s sick scavenger hunt. I just… I wanted to fix it."

Y/N looked at me for a long moment before stepping fully into the room. She didn’t say anything right away, just glanced around, taking in every carefully placed item, every straightened surface.

Then, finally, she met my eyes.

"Thank you," she said softly.

Y/N sighed, leaning against the doorframe as she watched me fold the last of her laundry. "Before I left the hospital, Stone stopped by," she said, her voice quieter than before. "He wanted to check in… and let me know he’d need a victim statement from me."

She said the word like it didn’t quite belong to her, like it tasted wrong in her mouth. I saw the way her fingers curled into her sleeves, the tension in her shoulders.

I set the folded shirt down and straightened, meeting her eyes. "I know," I said gently. "He spoke to me too. He wants my statement tomorrow."

Her brow furrowed slightly. "Why?"

"Because I’m a victim too," I admitted. "Not in the same way as you, but Marco dragged me into this just as much as he did you. He already got Liv’s statement, along with Finn, Amanda and Amaro. It’s just you, me, and Sonny left."

She let out a slow breath, nodding. "Right."

I hesitated before taking a step closer. "Y/N… you don’t have to do this alone. If you want, I can be there when you talk to Stone."

She studied me for a moment, and I wasn’t sure if she would accept or push me away. But then, her lips quirked just slightly, a ghost of a smile.

"Thanks, Rafael," she murmured. "I might take you up on that."

@geeksareunique @pinkladydevotee @pumpkindwight @chriskevinevans @svzwriting29

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love Part 10

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

2.1k word count

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings none unless you count cranky asshole Dean.

Authors Note: Just wanted to let you all know this story will be roughly 20 parts and I already have the ending. I know many people will hate the ending but for now, the ending I have planned feels perfect.

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

I’d been upstairs for what felt like hours, my senses on high alert. The EMF reader was silent, offering no clues about the supposed haunting. Just as I was about to give up, I heard a door slam shut downstairs, followed by muffled voices. Curiosity piqued, I crept towards the staircase, careful not to make a sound.

Peeking over the railing, I saw nothing unusual. But then, a frantic scramble echoed from below. Footsteps pounded towards the front door, followed by a series of violent shakes. As I strained to see what was happening, a familiar pair of worn jeans and scuffed brown boots came into view. It was Dean.

Heart pounding, I considered my options. The window was too small, and I doubted I could make it without breaking my neck. Before I could decide, the stairs creaked beneath my weight. My blood ran cold as Dean’s head snapped up, his eyes locking onto mine.

"Oh, son of a bitch," Dean muttered, his voice low and dangerous.

"Dean? What are you doing here?" I asked, trying to sound casual despite the pounding in my chest.

"What am I doing here? What are you doing here?" he countered, his steps growing closer.

I crossed my arms, attempting to look intimidating. "Johnny sent me over to take care of a case," I lied through gritted teeth.

"Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I don’t think there’s a case here," Dean said, pointing dramatically at the front door.

"What do you mean?" I asked, confusion and fear swirling inside me.

I jogged down the stairs, pushing past Dean. My heart hammered in my chest as I fumbled with the front door handle. It didn’t budge. Not even a centimetre. Panic started to creep in as I realized I was trapped. I raced to the back door, desperation fuelling my movements. It was locked too, solid as a bank vault.

A wave of dread washed over me as I circled the house, my eyes scanning every window. My worst fears were confirmed. Freshly installed metal bars blocked every escape route. I was trapped.

The sound of breaking glass echoed from the lounge room. I hesitated, fear and anger battling within me. Slowly, cautiously, I peeked around the corner. Dean stood in the middle of the room, his face a mask of fury as he stared at his shattered phone.

"All the windows are barred, and I'm guessing the doors are reinforced," I sighed, leaning against the doorframe. My mind raced, trying to come up with a plan.

Dean rubbed his face, his frustration evident. "Yeah, apparently until we figure our shit out, we're stuck here," he muttered.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I demanded, my voice rising in irritation.

Dean threw his hands up in exasperation and walked further into the house. I rolled my eyes and pulled my phone out of my pocket. It was time to call Theresa. Being trapped here with Dean was one thing, but being trapped here with angry Dean was another.

“Hey, Y/N, don’t even think about asking. Sam’s not letting you out,” Theresa giggled.

“Then what the hell am I supposed to do in here?” I groaned, frustration lacing my voice.

“Figure things out with Dean. The guy’s crazy about you and you feel the same. Just stop being stubborn and admit it,” she insisted.

“Yeah, right,” I retorted, cutting her off before she could continue.

I let out a heavy sigh and trudged up the stairs in search of Dean. Maybe we could fool everyone into thinking we were burying the hatchet. That might speed up our escape. What did they want from us anyway? Friendship? Something more? I had no clue. I found Dean in one of the upstairs bedrooms, his frustration evident as he yanked at the iron bars on the window.

"I thought we already ruled that out,” I said, crossing my arms and leaning against the doorframe.

Dean exploded, his voice echoing through the room as he yanked at the bars, "Well, do you have a better idea, genius?" I stumbled backward into the hallway.

"Okay, hear me out," I offered, trying to calm him down. "They want us to get along, right? So let's fake it. Put on a show, tell them everything's peachy, and then make our escape."

He paused, his anger slowly subsiding. "Bobby and Sam know me too well. They'd see right through us."

I shrugged, "I don't know, Dean. We're clearly not gonna be best friends, so they're wasting their time."

Dean stared at me for a moment before nodding. "Maybe you're right. They can't keep us here forever. We just have to wait it out."

"Perfect. Pick a room. Just make sure it's on the other side of the house," I replied, turning and walking away.

I retreated to the far end of the house and shut myself in a room. Collapsing onto the bed, I realized I was in for a long haul. Now that I had a moment to look around, something was off. The room was spotless, almost sterile. The furniture was new, or at least very recently used, and the bedding was fresh. How had I missed this before? I’d been so focused on the case and getting out that I’d ignored the obvious.

A loud bang downstairs startled me. I leapt off the bed and raced into the hallway. Dean was emerging from the opposite end, presumably claiming that room as his own. Our eyes met as we both made a beeline for the stairs. Our bags were sitting by the front door. No sound of entry. How had they gotten inside? Dean joined me in examining the door and surrounding walls, his curiosity as piqued as mine.

"See that gap around the wall?" Dean pointed to a small, almost imperceptible indent. "Looks like a hidden door to me." He leaned into the wall, exerting all his weight. Nothing. He stepped back and tried ramming his shoulder into it, but the wall held firm.

I rolled my eyes, grabbed my bag, and retreated to my room. With the door closed, I rummaged through my belongings, searching for the pocketknife I always kept hidden. My heart sank when I realized it was gone. Someone had been through our bags. Panic set in as I remembered Dean's shirt, a piece I'd stolen months ago. That was a huge mistake.

I needed out, and I needed out now. They'd secured the windows and doors, but surely they hadn't reinforced the walls. If I was going to escape, I'd have to cut through. First, I had to check the kitchen without Dean seeing me. They had to have left us at least a couple of knives.

I found Dean in the lounge room, feverishly attacking the wall with a mismatched collection of utensils. I sighed, casually opening drawers. Two steak knives were exactly what I needed. I slipped them into my waistband and grabbed a soda as a cover.

Back in my room, I moved the chest of drawers to reveal a section of wall. With trembling hands, I began to cut. Hours later, as dawn approached, I'd finally breached the interior wall. Relief washed over me until I saw the solid metal sheet beyond. Disappointment and exhaustion crashed down on me. I covered the hole, dragged myself to bed, and clung to Dean's shirt for comfort.

…

Deans p.o.v.

I spent hours trying to break through the small door, but I knew, I knew Bobby would have made this house escape-proof. The man knew what he was doing, and he sure as hell knew me well enough to anticipate that I would do anything to break out. There was no way either of us was getting out of here unless Bobby and Sam got what they wanted. I sighed and tossed aside the knife I had been using to try and pry the door open. Grabbing a beer from the fridge, I dropped into one of the armchairs and glared at the door, hoping my growing anger would somehow make it open. I inwardly chuckled, thinking about Sam and his demon blood. Bet this place wouldn’t hold him, I thought. Finishing my beer, I headed up to bed. There was no point in continuing to break out today. I could try again tomorrow.

When I woke, it was almost 10 a.m. It was different not having Sammy smacking my foot or his and Theresa's laughter as they entered the room with coffee and breakfast to wake me up. I sat on the side of the bed and rubbed my face. The house was quiet. I made my way to the kitchen and rummaged through the cupboards and fridge to make a cup of coffee and some breakfast. I got two cups of coffee and some bacon and eggs ready before heading back upstairs to check on Y/N and let her know breakfast was ready.

I opened the door to the room she’d been hiding in to find her passed out on the bed, still dressed from the day before. She had something hugged tightly to her chest. I crept quietly towards the bed, not wanting to wake her. As I pulled the object slightly out of her arms, a familiar logo caught my eye. I chuckled and tucked the shirt back into her arms. Moving back over to the door, I banged on it. Y/N jolted awake at the sound and looked up at me in shock, trying to push the shirt under her.

“Breakfast is ready, sleeping beauty,” I chuckled before walking off down the hall.

…

Your P.O.V

As soon as Dean was out of sight, I grabbed the shirt and stuffed it back in my bag, cursing under my breath. I hoped he hadn’t recognized the shirt, or we’d be in for an awkward conversation. I made my way slowly and quietly down the stairs into the kitchen, where the smell of coffee and bacon greeted me. Taking a seat at the table across from Dean, I saw him with a piece of bacon hanging out of his mouth, giving me a goofy grin while munching away. I had to fight everything inside myself to not smile back. I had fought so hard over the last few months to put everything I felt for Dean behind me, and I was determined to keep it there. I was going to make sure Bobby and Sam’s plan failed.

Dean and I ate in silence. When our plates were empty, I collected them and took them to the sink to wash. Dean stayed at the table, clearly wanting to say something but looking like he didn’t know how to start. Just as he seemed ready to speak, a voice called out from the window.

“Dean? Are you in there?”

“Cas? Man, am I glad to hear your voice.” Dean rushed over to the window. “Get in here and zap us out.”

I walked over to another nearby window to see who this Cas was. Standing in the yard just outside the house was a man in a trench coat. He looked to be about Dean's height with dark brown hair and stubble. He honestly didn’t look like someone Dean should know, and what kind of name was Cas anyway?

“I can’t get inside, Dean. Something is stopping me.” Cas looked over at me. “It’s good to see you again.” He said the last part while looking directly at me. Again? What did he mean, again?

“Do I know you?” I asked, surprised.

“You probably don’t remember me; I am the angel Castiel,” he said, his face showing no emotion.

“Yeah, introductions later. Bobby and Sam have us locked in here in some twisted attempt to make us get along,” Dean said. “And if you can’t get in, it means they put up wards.” Dean looked around the walls.

“Wards? Do you mean the drawings on the walls?” I let slip before I could stop myself.

“You’ve been in the walls?” Dean looked at me, confused.

“Kinda tried to cut my way out,” I admitted, rubbing the back of my neck, embarrassed.

“Show me.”

I led Dean back upstairs into the room and pointed to the chest of drawers. Dean moved the drawers in one swift movement, making it look effortless. It was impressive, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. Dean looked into the hole and cursed.

“Angel proofing. Dammit, Bobby, you’re good,” Dean cursed, storming back downstairs. I had to run to keep up. He went back to the window where Castiel was still waiting.

“Sorry, Cas. The place is angel-proof,” Dean sighed, resting his head against the bars.

“Maybe I could speak to Bobby and Sam?” Castiel offered.

“It’s no good. They won’t let us out until we do what they want,” Dean said, turning to me with a look of anger, like this was somehow all my fault. I glared right back at him and stormed back upstairs to hide in my room.