Meeting The Firefam

Counting down the seconds to Objection Part 9

I'm working on it right now! I hope to have Parts 9 and 10 out before I head away for Christmas then I'm going to torture you all with a 2-3 week wait for the next part.

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love Part 13

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

2k word count

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings none

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then came the unmistakable sound of feathers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Dating Odyssey: Billy

Eddie Munson/Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington/Jim Hopper/Jonathan Byers x fem!reader

1.7k word count

fluff, idiot reader, reader who can't say no, choose your own adventure-ish

Part 1 / Steve's Ending / Eddie's Ending / Jim's Ending / Jonathan's Ending

Underneath the sapphire sky, you hesitated at the entrance to Hawkins Pool. You hadn't seen Billy since your first pool date a week ago. After a whirlwind of emotions, you decided to take a breather, avoiding him and the others to clear your thoughts. You had felt sure of your decision to pick Billy 4 days ago. You felt sure of your decision every day since. Now, standing there, you wondered if you had made the right decision to meet him again. Would it just stir up more confusion?

You had originally gone to Billys trailer hoping to run into him somewhere a bit more private. You’d stood knocking for almost 15 minutes when Eddie Munsons stepped out of the trailer across the road. He was dressed in nothing but a pair of boxers clearly not long out of bed. He pulled a cigarette from behind his ear, lighting it and smiling across at you.

“If your looking for Hargrove his at work” Eddie called across the road.

“Oh thanks Eddie I guess I’ll head there then” You smiled and tried to make a quick exit.

“Wow, hay there, what’s the rush? What do you want with Billy anyway?” Eddies smile never fell from his face.

“Well honestly Eddie I went on a date with Billy last weekend” You choose to tell him the truth. Eddie deserved that much.

“Oh wow well uh I guess it’s not like we were exclusive or anything” Eddie scratched the back of his neck.

“Sorry Eds, your super sweet and any girl would be lucky to have you but I love Billy” You were honest with him and yourself.

“If you were saying that to high school Eddie I would have told you to run that Billy is bad news but he has changed since high school so if you think he is the one for you then go for it” You could hear the sadness in Eddies voice

“Thank you Eddie, um, maybe you should go for some clothes” You motioned to his boxers.

“Oh this is nothing you should ask Billy about the day he saw my pale naked ass run past his bedroom window” Eddie chuckled.

You shook your laughing at Eddie as he waved and ran back to his trailer. You climbed back into your car and headed towards the Hawkins Community Pool. This brings you to your current predicament. You stood in the parking lot looking at the entrance. Your nerves had hit you all at once. Your thoughts were interrupted by a voice behind you.

"Hey, y/n”

You turned to see Billy, his grin as bright as the sun reflecting off the water. His presence sent a flurry of butterflies into your stomach.

"Hey, Billy," you replied, forcing a smile.

He approached you, his steps confident. "I've been trying to catch you all week. I was starting to think you were avoiding me."

Your cheeks flushed with guilt. "I...I needed some time to think."

Billy nodded understandingly. "I get it. But hey, I'm glad you're here now. Ready for round two?"

“Uh yeah actually  I thought you might like to go for another date this weekend? Maybe make us something a little more official?”

“I would love that” Billy had the brightest smile on his face making your heart skip a beat. “I actually have somewhere I would love to take you but you’d need to be ready early Saturday morning, say around 5am”

“I’ll be ready” You smiled

“Great I need to get back to work, make sure to wear something light that you don’t mind getting wet” Billy gave you a quick kiss on the cheek and jogged back into the pool.

Your stomach was doing leaps and a smile plastered it’s self on your face and you didn’t know if you would ever get it to leave. Billy, you were confident, was the only guy you believed could do that to you. Saturday, just two days to wait and you would have your next date with Billy.

Thursday and Friday flew by. You smiled through the days and Friday night you couldn’t sleep. The nervous energy kept you awake. You planned your outfit out and laid everything out ready for you to grab and put on the next morning. You went to bed at 7pm exactly knowing you need to be up at 4am to be ready on time. You tossed and turned constantly looking at the bedside clock. At some point you had fallen asleep though and you were woken by the alarm clock at 4am. You thought last night that if you didn’t get enough sleep, you would be too tired when you woke up to do anything. Instead, you were full of endless nervous energy. You jumped out of bed and raced into your bathroom. You took a quick shower and got dressed into a simple pair on denim shorts and a white tank top with a bikini underneath. You then rushed into the kitchen fearing you were going to be late, grabbed the pop tarts you had left out the night before quick access and tossed them into the toaster while also flipping on the kettle. You already had your coffee mug out with instant coffee and sugar in it ready for hot water because you were so anxious about being ready on time the night before. As you munched on your pop tarts and waited for the kettle to boil you looked at the clock on the wall. 4:25. Your eyes almost bulged out of your head. How had so little time passed? It just left you more time to panic. The kettle clicked off bringing you back to your breakfast. You poured the hot water into your mug and stirred it before getting the milk from the fridge to add to the cup. You sat at the kitchen bench and sipped at your coffee while waiting for time to pass willing it to move faster. By the time the clock struck 4:55 the coffee mug was empty and had been washed up. You bag was packed for the day ahead. You took a deep breath and made your way to the street below your apartment. You hadn’t even been on the side walk for 5 minutes when the familiar roar of a Camaro engine graced your ears. A smile broke out on your face and you bounced excitedly on your heels. Billy’s blue Camaro came to a stop in front of you and Billy was quick to jumped out and open up the passenger side for you. Once you were seated in the Camaros Billy closed the door and ran back around to the drivers side. He put the Camaro back in gears and began driving out of Hawkins.

“We have about a 3 hour trip ahead of us just so you know” Billy smiled across at you.

“I’m sure we’ll find ways to keep ourselves entertained” You laughed

Billy blasted the music and placed a hand on your knee as he drove. It was as if he had driven this same road many, many times. You took a chance to take in Eddies outfit. He was wearing a pair of black shorts and a white singlet. He had his normal necklace on and sunglasses. He had a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He seemed at peace on the road compared to how you had seen him around town. You laid back and closed your eyes allowing the sun coming in to heat your skin. You must have dozed off at some point because you were woken by Billy shaking you.

“We’re here sleepy head” He chuckled.

“The beach?” You sat up and looked around.

“Yep welcome to Chicago, it’s no California but hay it’s a beach” Billy smiled.

He laced his fingers with yours and guided you down towards the ocean. It was perfect beach weather, warm and sunny. You looked out at the water as Billy pulled you onto the beach and began to walk along the waters edge.

“So California huh? Born there or holiday spot?” You asked.

“I was born there, use to go surfing with my Mom, basically lived on the beach” Billy smiled looking out at the water.

“Then why the move to Hawkins?” You asked confused.

“My mom, she…well she left us and my Dad remarried Max’s Mom and he thought after Max tried to run away a few times that it would be best for us to move away. I don’t blame Max at all….well maybe in the beginning but not now” Billy had a look of regret on his face.

“I’m sorry that’s clearly a sore topic for you” You regretted asking.

“No, it’s fine you deserve to know, my dads dead now anyway so it’s not like it matters” Billy shrugged. “Anyway what about you, I know your not local to Hawkins either”

“New York City born and raised. Couldn’t stand city life and needed to go somewhere quite” You smiled up at him.

“Well I for one am glad you made that choice” Billy chuckled

“Me too” You nodded.

Billy quickly swept you up in his arms before running off into the water. You screamed begging him to place you down only to be met with him saying no over and over again. At just the right depth Billy tossed you in. You got to your feet and began splashing at him. Soon you were both surrounded by laughter and love. Everyone else on the beach cease to exist to the two of you. You got so wrapped up in each other to failed to see time getting away from you. Before you knew it the crowds had begun to go home for the day. You and Billy had become quiet as he swum up behind you wrapping his arms around your waist.

"I'm glad you came back," Billy said quietly, breaking the silence.

You turned to him, your heart somersaulting in your chest. "Me too."

Your eyes locked, and in that moment, you knew you had made the right decision. Sometimes, all it took was a leap of faith to find something worth holding onto.

As you emerged from the ocean, the sun sinking below the horizon painted the sky in hues of pink and gold. Hand in hand, You and Billy walked away from the beach, your hearts lighter than they had been in days, ready to face whatever the future held, together.

Sonny Carisi question

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

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love 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.

telling people they’re gonna hate the ending isn’t exactly going to make people want to read lol

Not like many people are reading it anyway, just sort of wanted to warn people if you're looking for a happy ending, you won't find it here but also don't want to spoil what I have planned.

Objection! Part 9

Rafael Barba x fem!Carisi!reader

5.3k 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

Authors Note: I am not happy with this chapter. I might come back to it after Christmas. I might edit it while I'm away who knows. I feel like it could be so much better.

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Sonny brought the car to a screeching halt in front of the DA’s office, the tires protesting loudly as we stopped. I barely waited for the engine to cut before throwing the door open and sprinting toward the building. Sonny and Olivia were right behind me, their footsteps pounding in unison with mine.

We burst through the doors, startling Carmen, who was seated at her desk with a cup of coffee in hand. Her usual calm demeanour faltered as she looked up at us, confused by our urgency.

“Carmen!” I barked, my voice sharper than I intended. Her eyes widened in alarm. “Has anyone been in my office today? Did anyone leave anything for me?”

“What—what’s going on?” she stammered, clearly thrown off by my tone.

“Just answer the question!” I snapped, running a hand through my hair as my nerves got the better of me.

She frowned, clearly trying to process my outburst. “There was a delivery earlier. A box—it’s on your desk.”

My stomach dropped. I turned toward my office door, already dreading what I might find. A cold sweat prickled my skin as my mind raced with possibilities, each one worse than the last. God, please don’t let it be a piece of her. Not like this.

But Sonny had already shoved past me, charging into my office with no hesitation. He grabbed the box from my desk, ripping the lid off in one swift motion.

For a moment, none of us breathed. Then Sonny pulled out… a plush chinchilla.

Olivia blinked, breaking the silence with a deadpan, “Is that a rat?”

“It’s not a rat!” Sonny shot back, glaring at her as he held the plush defensively. He studied it with an intensity that would have been comical if the situation weren’t so dire.

Meanwhile, I was struggling to keep up. “What the hell is this supposed to mean?” I muttered, stepping closer to the desk. My eyes landed on the folded piece of paper still inside the box. I snatched it up and unfolded it with shaking hands.

Olivia leaned in, reading over my shoulder. “For the next six clues, you’ll have to ask—but be quick, or she’ll pass.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy and ominous. I felt my stomach churn. “Ask who? And what does ‘she’ll pass’ mean? Is he threatening her life, or is this another one of his games?”

Sonny, still holding the chinchilla, finally spoke up. “It’s not a rat—it’s a chinchilla. And I’m pretty sure the only place in the city with chinchillas is the Bronx Zoo.”

“The Bronx Zoo?” Olivia asked, raising an eyebrow.

Sonny nodded firmly. “It was Y/N’s favourite place growing up. She’d go there every chance she got. And every visit started and ended with the chinchillas. It has to be the zoo.”

We didn’t waste any time. Back in the car, Sonny took the wheel again, his driving just as reckless as before. The urgency in the air was suffocating, every second ticking by like a countdown to disaster.

As the car sped through the city streets, Sonny spoke over the roar of the engine. “When we were kids, our parents would take her to the Bronx Zoo for her birthday. Every year. The first and last thing she’d do was visit the chinchillas. She loves them.”

I stared at the plush in my hands, trying to reconcile the sweet memory Sonny shared with the grim reality we were facing. My fingers tapped anxiously against my thigh as I tucked the Chincilla away with the book from earlier. “The note,” I said, turning back to Olivia. “What do you think it means? ‘Ask’? Ask who? Ask what?”

Olivia shrugged, her expression tight with worry. “It could mean anything. Marco’s been deliberately vague this entire time. He’s toying with us, and he knows it.”

I clenched my fists, frustration boiling beneath the surface. Every step of this chase felt like a slap in the face, a reminder of how helpless I was in protecting Y/N. But there wasn’t time for self-pity. We had to stay sharp.

Sonny glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “Whatever it means, we’ll figure it out. We have to. Let’s just get to the zoo first.”

His voice was steady, but I could see the tension in his grip on the steering wheel. We all knew the stakes. And with every mile closer to the Bronx Zoo, my determination solidified.

I couldn’t let Marco win. Not this time.

…

Sonny pulled the car to a jerking halt outside the Bronx Zoo. I barely had time to exhale before Olivia was already out, her badge flashing as she approached the ticket booth.

“We’re NYPD,” she said briskly, showing the man behind the glass her identification. “Has anyone left anything for us? A package, a message?”

The man blinked, startled by her intensity, and shook his head. “No, ma’am. Nothing’s been left here.”

I stepped forward, pulling out my phone to show him a picture of Marco. “What about this man? Have you seen him recently?”

The guy leaned closer, squinting at the screen. “I don’t think so. But I can’t say for sure. We’ve had a lot of visitors today.”

It was frustratingly vague, but there wasn’t time to press him further. We headed straight through the gates, the familiar smell of popcorn and animal enclosures hitting me as we walked. Despite the urgency of the situation, I couldn’t help the faint pang of nostalgia that tugged at me. Y/N had spoken about this place before, about how much she loved it as a kid. And now, it felt like Marco was using that love against her—and us.

“Where to?” Olivia asked, glancing around the sprawling zoo grounds.

“The Mouse House,” Sonny answered, as if it were obvious. “Chinchillas. Let’s move.”

We navigated the winding pathways, dodging families and strollers, my eyes scanning every face we passed. My nerves were taut, every sound and movement setting my heart racing.

The Mouse House was dimly lit, the soft chatter of visitors echoing off the walls. The smell of hay and sawdust hung in the air as we wound our way through the narrow corridors. My pulse quickened with every step, my eyes darting to every corner, searching for anything out of place.

When we reached the chinchilla enclosure, I stopped short. There they were—tiny, fluffy creatures with twitching noses, hopping around in their habitat like nothing in the world could bother them. Y/N’s voice echoed in my mind, her excitement as she’d once described them to me after I asked her about her computer background, the only reason I had recognised the Chincilla plush for what it was.

But there was no sign of Marco. No sign of Y/N. Just the glass enclosure and the animals inside.

Sonny was already scouring the area, checking behind benches and trash cans, while Olivia questioned a zookeeper standing nearby. I stood frozen, my gut telling me we weren’t in the wrong place—but we were missing something.

“Barba,” Sonny called, his voice sharp. He was crouched near the edge of the enclosure, holding something in his hand. A folded piece of paper.

I moved quickly, snatching it from him and unfolding it. The message was written in Marco’s now-familiar scrawl:

“You’re halfway there. Keep following her heart, and you might just save it.”

My grip tightened on the paper as frustration bubbled up inside me. “Her heart?” I muttered aloud, staring at the words. “What the hell does that mean?”

Olivia glanced over my shoulder. “Could be literal, could be figurative. Either way, it’s cryptic as hell.”

Sonny stood, brushing off his pants. “Her heart... what else did Y/N love? Something she always talked about?”

The weight of the chase pressed down on me like an anchor, each step feeling heavier than the last. Marco was toying with us, stringing us along with vague clues, and Y/N’s life was slipping through our fingers. Every moment wasted felt like a step closer to losing her.

As we reached the far end of the Mouse House, I spotted a man standing behind an ice cream cart, his colorful setup a jarring contrast to the dimly lit surroundings. He greeted each passerby with an enthusiastic grin, cheerfully handing out cones piled high with creamy swirls.

I approached cautiously, hope flickering weakly in my chest. Maybe he had seen something. Maybe he held another piece of the puzzle.

"Free ice cream today!" the man announced as I neared, his voice full of warmth. He held out a cone toward me, the scent of vanilla and sugar wafting in the air. "Some generous guy came by this morning and paid for the whole cart—said to make sure everyone got one."

I forced a polite smile, though the tension in my chest made it impossible to enjoy the gesture. “Thanks, but I’ll pass.” My tone was clipped, businesslike. I pulled out my phone and held up the screen, showing him the photo of Marco. “Was it this man? Did he pay for the ice cream?”

The vendor leaned closer, squinting at the screen. After a moment, he nodded with a bright smile. “Yeah, that’s him! Paid in cash, too. Real nice guy, seemed like he just wanted to spread some joy.”

I clenched my jaw, my frustration barely contained. The ease with which Marco charmed people was infuriating, his calculated moves cloaked in harmless gestures. “Did he say anything else? Leave anything behind?”

The man shook his head, his cheerful demeanor unshaken. “Nope, just told me to give out the ice cream. That’s all.”

I nodded tightly, stepping back from the cart as a dull ache settled in my chest. “Thanks,” I muttered, my voice devoid of the gratitude I should have expressed.

“Have a good day!” the vendor called after me, his voice far too bright for the grim thoughts swirling in my mind.

I turned to Sonny and Olivia, who were already watching me. Their expressions mirrored my own—a blend of frustration and helplessness. The ice cream clue was another dead end, another cruel twist in Marco’s game.

Sonny ran a hand through his hair, pacing in agitated circles. “What now? Ice cream? Are we supposed to figure out some connection to ice cream now?”

I exhaled slowly, the weight of the situation pressing down harder. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “But Marco’s not doing this without a reason. There’s something here. We just have to see it.”

The thought gnawed at me as the three of us stood there, the clock ticking relentlessly in the background. We had to figure this out—and fast.

“What now?” Olivia asked, her tone edged with impatience.

“He paid for the ice cream and told the guy to give it out for free. That’s it.” I ran a hand down my face, trying to think. “Nothing else. No clue.”

Olivia looked at Sonny. “Anything? Does Y/N have some connection to ice cream? A favourite parlour or something?”

Sonny shook his head, his hands on his hips as he stared at the ground. “Not that I can think of. She likes ice cream, sure, but nothing stands out.”

The thought of involving Amaro stung, like a sharp jab to an already tender wound, but I swallowed my pride. It wasn’t about me—it was about Y/N. If he could help us, I’d endure it. My voice came out lower than I intended, weighed down by reluctance.

“Maybe we should ask Amaro,” I said, each word feeling like it dragged itself out of me. “He knew about the bookstore—maybe he knows something we don’t.”

Sonny’s eyes widened, but not in surprise—more like a light bulb had just gone off. He snapped his fingers, his expression shifting to determination. “Wait. What if Marco means we need to ask the people around her? The ones who know her best.”

Before I could respond, he was already pulling out his phone, his fingers moving fast as he dialed.

Amaro picked up after just a few rings, his voice calm but questioning. “What’s going on?”

“We’re at the zoo, following Marco’s trail, but we’re stuck,” Sonny explained, his words rapid and urgent. “Do you know if Y/N has a favorite ice cream spot?”

There was a pause on the other end, followed by muffled voices as Amaro apparently relayed the question to others nearby. I clenched my fists, waiting, frustration bubbling beneath my skin.

After a brief silence, Amanda’s voice came through, clear and confident. “The Museum of Ice Cream,” she said firmly. “Y/N takes Jesse there all the time for girls’ days. It’s their go-to spot. The sprinkle pool is Jesse’s favorite part.”

Sonny’s face lit up with relief. He snapped his fingers again, nodding. “That’s it. Amanda, you’re a genius. Thank you.”

Amanda’s voice carried a hint of urgency now. “If Marco’s sending you there, don’t waste time. Go.”

“We’re on it,” Sonny promised, already moving toward the car.

I followed, my chest tight with a mix of emotions. Gratitude that Amanda knew the answer, frustration that I hadn’t, and an undercurrent of desperation to get to Y/N before it was too late.

…

The ride to the Museum of Ice Cream was suffocating. The only sound in the car was the hum of the engine and the occasional impatient sigh from Sonny as he maneuverered through the city streets. I sat in the back, staring out the window but seeing nothing.

My thoughts churned like a storm, each one landing heavier than the last. Amanda and Nick had known Y/N’s favourite places, her habits, her joys. Nick had known about the bookstore, Amanda about the Museum of Ice Cream. Even Sonny, her brother, had insights into her world that I could never claim.

I was her colleague, her partner. We worked side by side every day, and yet, what did I know about her? Not enough, that much was clear. Somewhere along the way, I had convinced myself that knowing her professionally was enough. Now, I wasn’t so sure.

The sharp screech of brakes jolted me out of my thoughts. Sonny brought the car to a halt in front of the brightly coloured façade of the Museum of Ice Cream.

“Let’s go,” he said, already climbing out.

We moved as one, a silent agreement to head straight for the sprinkle pool. If Amanda knew it was Y/N’s favourite, Marco did too.

Inside, the museum was alive with colour and laughter, a stark contrast to the grim tension between us. We weaved through the exhibits until we reached the sprinkle pool, a massive pit filled with foam sprinkles where kids dove in gleefully while parents looked on.

As we stood there, scanning the room for any sign of a clue, a woman in a pink uniform approached us with a broad smile. The logo on her shirt marked her as a museum employee.

“Good afternoon!” she said brightly, handing each of us a card.

I glanced at it: One Free Family Meal at a Restaurant of Your Choice.

Olivia’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you handing these out?”

The woman kept her smile, but there was a hint of confusion in her expression. “A courier dropped them off this morning with a note. It said to give them to everyone who enters today as part of a promotional event. It’s unusual, but we followed the instructions.”

The moment she walked away, Olivia turned to Sonny. “What’s Y/N’s favourite restaurant?”

Sonny rubbed a hand over his face, clearly frustrated. “There was this place we went to as kids, every Sunday with our parents and grandparents. It became a tradition, and Y/N kept going even after the rest of us stopped. But I can’t remember the name.”

His fingers were already flying over his phone as he tried calling someone. After three attempts, he cursed under his breath and scrolled through his contacts again. This time, he paused and hesitated before dialling.

“She’ll know,” he muttered.

The line barely rang before it connected, and he began speaking rapidly in Italian.

“Mamma…sì, ho ricevuto il tuo messaggio…mamma…mamma...sì, saremo lì per Natale, non ce lo perderemo, lo sai…ascolta, qual era il ristorante dove andavamo con i nonni? Pensavo di prendere un buono per coccinella per Natale…Grazie mamma… Ti voglio bene, ciao” (Mum yes I've been getting your messages, Mum Mum, yes we'll be there for Chrismas we wouldn't miss it you know that, listen what was that restaurant we use to go to with Grandma and Grandpa? I was thinking I would get a gift certificate for ladybug for Christmas. Thanks Mum. Love you bye)

Olivia and I exchanged a glance, neither of us able to follow the conversation. But we didn’t need to. The tight set of Sonny’s jaw and the relief in his expression told us all we needed to know.

When he hung up, he turned to us, his voice firm. “La Nonna Restaurant. Let’s go.”

He didn’t wait for a response, already heading back toward the car. Olivia and I followed without question, a new wave of determination driving us forward.

…

Sonny drove with single-minded focus, weaving through traffic as the city flew by in a blur. La Nonna was etched deep in his childhood memories, and now it was the thread we followed, hoping it would finally lead us closer to Y/N.

The weight of my inadequacies pressed harder against my chest as the car sped toward La Nonna. I sat in the back seat, silent, letting the others talk around me. I was haunted by my lack of connection to this piece of Y/N’s life. La Nonna, a place that seemed etched into her family’s history, was foreign to me. While I worked alongside her every day, Marco had exposed just how shallow my understanding of her truly was.

The car came to an abrupt stop outside a cozy, brick-fronted restaurant. The windows glowed warmly against the fading daylight, and the air was rich with the scent of freshly baked bread and garlic. It should have been inviting, but urgency overrode any appreciation for its charm.

We pushed through the door, and the sound of light chatter and clinking plates greeted us. Behind the counter stood an older woman, her kind eyes lighting up in recognition as she saw Sonny.

“Sonny Carisi? My goodness, it’s been ages!” she exclaimed, her voice tinged with both surprise and affection.

Sonny managed a quick, polite smile, but his tone was sharp and efficient. “Mrs. Marinelli, I’m sorry, but we don’t have time to catch up. Did someone leave something here for us? A note, a package—anything?”

Her expression shifted to concern as she studied his face. “A young man did stop by this morning. Left an envelope and told me to hold onto it. Said someone would come for it later.” She reached under the counter, pulling out a plain white envelope and handing it to Sonny.

His fingers trembled as he tore it open. Inside was a single sheet of paper with Marco’s familiar cryptic handwriting. Sonny handed it to Olivia, who read aloud:

“Music spins memories and history unfolds. Find what was lost where vinyl molds.”

Olivia’s brow furrowed as she lowered the paper. “Music and vinyl? What does that even mean?”

I clenched my fists, frustration boiling just beneath the surface. “It’s vague on purpose. Marco’s playing games, and every second we waste gives him more power over us.” My voice was tighter than I intended, but the clock was ticking, and Y/N’s life hung in the balance.

Sonny began pacing the narrow space in front of the counter, muttering fragments of the clue under his breath. Olivia pulled out her phone, her fingers flying as she searched for connections. I stared at the note, willing it to make sense, but the answer danced just out of reach.

A buzz from Olivia’s phone broke the tense silence. She glanced at the screen and frowned before answering. “It’s Finn. I sent him a picture of the clue.”

She put the call on speaker, Finn’s steady voice cutting through the static. “You’re looking for Academy Records,” he said without hesitation.

Sonny stopped pacing, turning sharply toward the phone. “What? How do you know that?”

Finn’s tone was calm but certain. “Y/N loves that place. She’s dragged me there a few times. She’s got a thing for vinyl—old classics, rare finds. If Marco knows her as well as it seems, that’s where he’d send you next.”

Sonny exhaled sharply, already moving toward the door. “Thanks, Finn. We owe you one.”

The three of us piled back into the car, the engine roaring to life as Sonny floored the gas pedal. The urgency in the air was almost suffocating, but my thoughts spiraled inward.

Academy Records. Another corner of Y/N’s world I had never stepped into. Finn had shared moments with her there, moments I couldn’t even imagine. I didn’t belong in her life—not the way these other people did.

But there was no time to dwell on regrets. I could make up for my failures later. Y/N’s life depended on us moving faster, thinking smarter, and staying one step ahead of Marco’s game. I forced my focus back to the road ahead as the city blurred by, the cryptic note burned into my thoughts.

Marco’s game wasn’t over yet, but neither was ours.

…

We reached Academy Records in what felt like record time, the tires screeching as Sonny brought the car to an abrupt halt. None of us waited for a complete stop before flinging our doors open and rushing inside.

The store was small and chaotic, a maze of tightly packed shelves stuffed with vinyl records. The faint crackle of an old jazz tune played over the speakers, mixing with the smell of aged cardboard and faint traces of incense. Behind the counter stood a young man in his early twenties, his dark hair falling into his eyes as he barely glanced up at the jingling bell above the door.

“Can I help you?” he asked lazily, his tone oozing disinterest as he set down a cup of coffee.

Sonny stepped forward, the urgency in his voice cutting through the young man’s nonchalance. “We’re looking for something that might’ve been left here—a note, a package, anything unusual.”

The man blinked, finally giving us his full attention. His expression turned thoughtful, and then he shrugged. “Some weird guy came in this morning. Didn’t buy anything. Just left this.” He ducked behind the counter and came back up holding a folded piece of paper, slightly crumpled, as if it had been handled with as little care as possible.

Olivia took the note, her movements cautious, as though the thin piece of paper might hold a detonator. She unfolded it and scanned the words before reading them aloud: “Where the horses run and the waves crash loud, her laughter lingers under the clouds.”

The riddle hung heavy in the air, its poetic phrasing a stark contrast to the stark reality we faced.

Sonny groaned, dragging a hand through his hair. “Another damn riddle. We don’t have time for this!” His voice was sharp, frustration spilling over as the minutes ticked by, each one feeling like an eternity.

I clenched my fists, staring at the note as if I could will it to reveal its secrets. Marco’s games were wearing us down, but Olivia’s sudden shift in expression caught my attention.

Her lips parted slightly, a flicker of recognition lighting her face. “I know where this is,” she said, her voice steady.

Sonny and I turned to her simultaneously, disbelief and hope mingling in our gazes.

“It’s Coney Island,” she continued with certainty. “The carousel. Y/N takes Noah there all the time. He talks about it all the time— the way Noah’s face lights up when he tells me how they ride together.”

Her words hit me like a gut punch. Another place Y/N had shared with someone else, another moment I’d never been a part of. The hollow ache in my chest grew, but I shoved it aside.

“Then we go now,” Sonny said, his tone clipped as he turned and headed for the door.

Olivia and I followed close behind, my mind racing as we climbed back into the car. The streets blurred past the windows, but all I could think about was the clock ticking down and the desperate hope that we weren’t already too late. Sonny drove like a man possessed, weaving through traffic with a focus that bordered on reckless.

In the backseat, I sat in silence, my thoughts a chaotic storm. I couldn’t help but feel like I was failing Y/N in more ways than one. She had shared so much of herself with the people around her—Sonny, Olivia, even Finn—and yet I had missed so much.

Olivia’s voice broke through my thoughts. “Rafael, don’t beat yourself up.”

I looked up, startled. She wasn’t even looking at me, her gaze fixed on the road ahead, but somehow she knew exactly what I was thinking.

Olivia continued. “What matters is that we get to her in time.”

I nodded, though her words did little to ease the tightness in my chest.

…

The car skidded to a stop at Coney Island, and the carousel loomed ahead, its brilliant lights casting flickering reflections on the damp boardwalk. The setting sun painted the sky in shades of orange and purple, but I couldn’t spare a moment to take it in. All I could think about was Y/N—her life hanging by a thread, and the clock relentlessly ticking down.

The salty breeze hit me as we stepped onto the boardwalk, the faint sound of crashing waves blending with the distant laughter of families enjoying the evening. But the carousel's joyful melody felt like a cruel juxtaposition to the dread coiling in my chest.

We ran, the weathered planks of the boardwalk groaning under our hurried steps. The carousel lights grew brighter as we neared, their spinning patterns like a beacon pulling us forward. Sonny, Olivia, and I spread out immediately, questioning everyone within earshot—carousel workers, parents corralling their children, teenagers clustered with ice cream cones. But every inquiry met with a blank stare, a shake of the head, or a polite, “Sorry, haven’t seen anything.”

Frustration mounted like a storm inside me. My breaths came heavy, each one laced with the weight of Marco’s cruel taunts. Standing in front of the carousel, I repeated his chilling words aloud, barely realizing it: The longer you take, the more water fills her space.

Sonny spun on his heel, his face a mask of fury. “Are you serious, Barba?” he snapped, his voice cracking with anger. “We’re standing next to the damn ocean! How the hell are we supposed to figure this out from those stupid words?”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came. My throat tightened as Sonny’s frustration boiled over. He marched toward me, jabbing a finger at my chest.

“This is all your fault!” he shouted, his voice raw. “You’re the reason she’s in this mess! Marco didn’t just pick her out of nowhere—why? Why did he go after my sister?”

Olivia shot me a desperate look, shaking her head as if to warn me against saying what I knew I had to. But the truth had been clawing at my chest for weeks, and it wouldn’t stay buried any longer.

I lowered my gaze, my voice barely audible. “Because I’m in love with her.”

Sonny froze. His hand hovered in mid-air as if the words had physically struck him. Then, in an instant, the shock gave way to a surge of anger. He grabbed my collar, yanking me close, his face inches from mine.

“You’re in love with her?” he spat, his voice shaking with rage. “And because of that, she’s lying out there somewhere, maybe drowning while we waste time chasing riddles? You didn’t even know anything about her, Barba. Her favorite things, the things that make her, her. You didn’t even know where she got your coffee. You think loving her makes up for all the ways you failed her?”

Each word hit harder than Sonny’s fists ever could, and I knew he was right. I had been so wrapped up in my feelings for Y/N, so afraid to cross a line, that I had let someone else exploit the space between us.

“You put her in danger because you couldn’t keep your feelings to yourself!” Sonny yelled, his voice cracking. “And now we don’t even know if she’s still alive!”

The punch came out of nowhere, his fist slamming into my jaw with a force that sent stars dancing across my vision. Pain exploded across my face, but I didn’t raise a hand to defend myself. I didn’t move at all. I deserved it.

“Enough!” Olivia shouted, stepping between us and pushing Sonny back. “This isn’t helping anyone!”

I touched the corner of my mouth, feeling the warm stickiness of blood on my fingertips. “It’s fine,” I rasped, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me. “I deserved that.”

Sonny’s chest heaved as he let go of my collar. He turned away, his anger still palpable, and pulled out his phone. “I’m calling backup. I want every available unit down here now. We’re combing every inch of this place until we find her.”

…

The flurry of officers and emergency responders that followed was both chaotic and a small comfort. Red and blue lights danced across the dark waves as search teams spread out along the beach, the docks, and every hidden corner of the area. Voices called out over the roar of the surf, flashlights sweeping over shadowed nooks and crannies.

But Marco’s words kept gnawing at me: The longer you take, the more water fills her space. My mind turned the phrase over again and again until a horrifying realization struck.

“The tide,” I whispered, my stomach twisting. Then louder, I shouted, “We have until high tide! Wherever she is, it’s going to flood!”

The words sent a ripple of urgency through the search teams. Everyone moved faster, their voices growing sharper and more determined.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a voice shouted from beneath the docks, “Over here!”

We all ran toward the sound, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst. Beneath the wooden structure, in a small crawlspace created from rocks barely visible in the growing shadows, lay Y/N. The water was already lapping at her face. A paramedic was already down with her checking for signs of life. When he yelled back that she still had a pulse I released a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding.

“Get her out of there!” Sonny yelled, his voice cracking with desperation.

Officers scrambled to free her, lifting her carefully onto a stretcher. My breath caught as I saw her face—so still, so unlike the vibrant woman I knew. But the faint rise and fall of her chest told me she was still fighting.

The paramedics arrived in a flurry of motion, stabilizing her as they carried her toward the waiting ambulance. Sonny climbed in immediately, his hands shaking as he gripped hers.

Then, to my utter shock, he turned to me. “Barba,” he said gruffly, his voice tight with emotion. “Get in.”

I hesitated for only a second before nodding, climbing into the ambulance and taking the seat across from him. The ride was silent, save for the beeping monitors and the hum of the engine. Sonny didn’t look at me, his focus entirely on Y/N, but his invitation spoke volumes.

All that mattered now was that we had found her. She was alive. And we would do whatever it took to keep her that way.

Tag List!

@geeksareunique @pinkladydevotee @pumpkindwight @chriskevinevans

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love (Revisited) Part 5

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

3.5k word count

Summary The part in which the hunt goes terribly wrong and you can't wait to be rid of The Winchesters.

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

Warnings mention and description of death, and physical assault.

Note: This chapter is slightly shorter than normal but it ended exactly how I wanted it to end. Also sorry not sorry for the ending. By no means is this the end of the tale, however!

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Dean stepped out of Theresa's house, the creaking wooden porch echoing beneath his boots. The crisp evening air greeted him as he closed the door behind him. I had spent four hours daydreaming, staring at the dying grass, happily ignoring the existence of the Winchesters.

"Hey, y/n," Dean said, his voice carrying a mix of determination and weariness. "Is the truck ready to hit the road?"

A flicker of pride danced in Dean's eyes. "Yeah, she's purring like a kitten again. We're good to go."

"Then what's holding you back?" I asked, sensing there was more to Dean's hesitation.

Dean sighed, the weight of the hunt evident in the furrow of his brow. "Thing is, Sam and I figured we'd wait until nightfall before we make our move. The less attention we draw, the better."

I understood his reasoning. In the world of hunters and hunted, stealth was often our greatest ally. "Playing it safe. Smart move."

Dean nodded, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Yeah, well, you know how it goes. Better safe than sorry."

The evening cast long shadows across the front of Theresa's house as Dean joined me on the steps, a palpable tension hanging in the air. I wanted, in that moment, to move away from Dean—to stand up and run away, to hide in Theresa's house while waiting for night to fall. And yet, at the same time, I wanted to move closer to him, fall into his arms, rest against his warm, chiseled chest. I wanted to hold on to him and never let go.

Leaning back against the weathered wood, Dean cleared his throat, breaking the uneasy silence. "Hey, you've been kinda all over the place and distant today. Everything okay?"

I shifted uncomfortably, my gaze fixed on the ground as if searching for the right words. "Yeah, I'm fine, Dean. Just... thinking."

Dean arched an eyebrow, not convinced by my response. "Come on, don't give me that. I can tell something's been bothering you. You've been acting off all day."

The words weighed heavily on my tongue as I gathered the courage to speak up. "Dean, last night... I overheard your conversation with Sam," I began, my voice trembling slightly.

His reaction was a mix of surprise and concern, his green eyes searching mine for any hint of what I might have heard. "And... what did you hear?"

Taking a deep breath, I recounted the painful revelation. "Sam mentioned how he feels like I'm a distraction to you, that I might be holding you back from focusing on the hunt. And you said you'd get over me, forget about me, once you’re back in the US."

Dean's expression darkened with guilt, and I immediately regretted bringing up such a sensitive topic. "I'm sorry you had to hear that. It wasn’t fair to you."

I shook my head, reaching out to reassure him. I placed a hand firmly on his shoulder. "It's okay, Dean. I understand. You and Sam have your own worries, your own struggles. I just wanted to be honest about what I overheard."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I don't want you to ever feel like you're just a distraction, because you're not. You're a valuable member of the team, and I'm glad you're here with us."

"Do you see me as just a part of the team, another hunter, and nothing more?" I blurted out, the question hanging heavily between us.

Dean's expression softened, his eyes searching mine with a depth of emotion that took me by surprise. "No, of course not. You're more than that, you know?" He hesitated, as if weighing his next words carefully. "You’re important to me, y/n. More than just a team member."

A mix of relief and vulnerability washed over me as I looked at him, the weight of unspoken feelings suddenly feeling a bit lighter. "I... I’m glad to hear that."

Dean gave me a small, reassuring smile, and we fell into a companionable silence, the tension easing as the evening shadows deepened. The night was coming, and with it, a new chapter of our hunt—and perhaps, a new understanding of what lay between us.

I furrowed my brow, uncertain of his meaning. "What do you mean?"

A ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of Dean's lips as he spoke. "You're family, just like Sam and me. We've been through a lot together, and that means something. It means you're not just another hunter to us. You're someone we care about, someone we trust."

"It seems like Sam doesn't fully trust me," I said, my voice tinged with frustration and concern.

Dean's expression softened, understanding dawning in his eyes. "Sam's always been cautious around new people, especially after everything we've been through. It's nothing personal, trust me."

His reassurance was comforting, but there was another question burning inside me, one I couldn’t ignore any longer.

"And what about you, Dean?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. "How do you feel about me? Do you... have feelings for me?"

Dean's gaze softened, his features betraying a hint of vulnerability. "I... I care about you, more than I probably should. You're brave and strong, and... damn it, you've saved our asses more times than I can count."

I held my breath, waiting for him to continue, to reveal the depths of his feelings.

"But..." Dean hesitated, his gaze flickering with uncertainty. "I don’t know if it’s... more than that. I don’t know if I can allow myself to feel that way, considering everything else that's going on."

His words stung, a pang of disappointment twisting in my chest. But I understood his reluctance, his fear of opening himself up to potential pain and loss.

"It’s okay, Dean," I said, forcing a smile despite the ache in my heart. "I understand."

I forced myself up from where I was sitting and made my way back inside. Stepping into the cool interior of Theresa's house, I welcomed the quiet, seeking refuge from the intensity of the conversation with Dean.

Leaning against the wall, I closed my eyes, trying to calm the storm raging within me. The air was thick with uncertainty, each breath a struggle against the weight of my own conflicted feelings.

Outside, Dean's voice drifted through the open window, a constant reminder of the tangled mess I found myself in. But I couldn't face him right now. Not when every moment spent in his presence only deepened the confusion in my heart.

Instead of letting my mind wander, I honed in on the task ahead. All I wanted was to banish the ghost, end this nightmare, and send Dean back to the States where he belonged. With a determined sigh, I pushed aside my doubts and fears, steeling myself for the battle to come. I had a job to do, and nothing—not even the tangled mess of emotions swirling around Dean—would stand in my way.

As I prepared to face the darkness outside, a silent vow echoed in the recesses of my mind: I would banish the ghost, send Dean packing, and finally close this chapter of my life once and for all.

By the time I had pulled myself together enough to face the Winchesters again, night had fallen. The brothers were busy making plans with Theresa on how to retrieve the cursed pole from the scrapyard and bring it back to burn in her yard. Theresa, however, was stuck on how they planned to actually burn the pole, barely listening to the rest of the plan.

"While you do that, I’m going to hang by the pool and make sure your pole burning actually works," I said, moving toward my car.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up," Dean jogged over, placing a hand on my car door to stop me from leaving. "You’re not going alone. What if the spirit decides to go after you?"

"And why would the spirit come after me? Could it be because your dear brother sees me as a massive burden on you, and in turn, on him?" I crossed my arms, glaring over Dean’s shoulder at Sam, who simply huffed and rolled his eyes. "Who better to draw the spirit out and make sure it’s gone for good?"

"Exactly. I’ll come with you. Theresa can go with Sam," Dean said, glancing back at them. "I need to make sure you’re safe."

I rolled my eyes, shoved Dean’s hand out of the way, and climbed into the car. I started it up, revving the engine. Before I could make my escape, Dean dashed around to the other side of the car and jumped in. Sam got into their car, and Theresa hopped into the ute parked in front of her house. We parted ways—Theresa and Sam heading towards the junkyard, while Dean and I drove in awkward silence toward the pool. Sure, I was probably being reckless, but I couldn’t care less. I just wanted the Winchesters out of my life for good.

I could see Dean out of the corner of my eye, opening and closing his mouth, fidgeting in his seat like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. I pulled into the pool parking lot, stopping directly in front of the entry doors. I turned off the car, pocketed the keys, and exited before Dean could react.

Having broken into the pool countless times during my high school days, I knew about the hole someone had cut in the less secure side fence behind the building housing the outdoor pool pumps. Dean didn’t know this. Before he could register what was happening or even get out of the car, I locked it, smiled at him through the window, waved quickly, and bolted. I knew Dean was familiar with the Impala’s inner workings, so it wouldn’t take him long to unlock the door. But I used my head start to duck into the bushes along the side of the pool, hoping his size would slow him down or force him to take the long way around the building.

It took me less than five minutes to reach the hole in the fence. As I slipped through, my forearm caught on a sharp wire that hadn’t been cut back, and I felt warm blood trickling down my arm. Cursing under my breath, I checked the damage—a decent four-centimeter gash that might need stitches, but nothing that couldn’t wait.

Inside the building, I wandered around before settling in the adults-only area of the pool, which offered a good view of most of the interior. I pulled out my phone and shot a quick message to Theresa to check on their progress. The building was eerily quiet, so I allowed myself to relax, lying back on one of the sun chairs. If the spirit decided to make a move or if Dean entered the building, I’d hear it. Just a few more hours, and I’d be rid of the Winchesters for good.

I’d already made mental plans during the day—after this, I’d hit the road and head toward the Sunshine Coast, where there was a possible vampire nest that needed investigating. All I needed was the green light that the spirit was gone, and I’d be out of here.

As if reading my mind, my phone began to ring, jolting me back to reality. I cursed under my breath as I answered.

“Theresa, you better have a good reason for scaring the life out of me,” I nearly yelled into the phone.

“Sorry, Dean wasn’t answering,” Theresa replied quickly. “Anyway, we’ve got the pole and we’re headed back to my place. Sam thinks he’s figured out a way to not exactly burn the pole, but to burn anything that might be inside it.”

“Great. Let me know when it’s done; all is quiet here,” I sighed, glancing around the eerily silent building.

“Okay, will do.”

As Theresa hung up, I stood and began to check the building. It was strange that I’d been sitting here for so long, and yet Dean hadn’t made it inside. Part of me worried that something had happened to him, but another part couldn’t help but hope he was still stuck in the car. I made my way toward the front doors, figuring I should be able to see straight into my car from there.

I walked between the pools and the adults-only balcony, heading for the ramp that led to the front door and the changing rooms. I kept my eyes peeled, just in case Dean had managed to slip inside before I got there. A flicker of guilt tugged at me—maybe he really was trapped in the car without a way out—but then again, a part of me thought he kind of deserved it. Or worse, maybe he had decided I deserved to be alone in the building, which would be a clear sign that he had no feelings for me at all.

As I crept past the changing rooms, I glanced inside. Both were as empty and eerie as the rest of the building. Standing outside the changing rooms, where the ramp doubled back on itself toward the reception area, I realized I couldn’t see my Impala from this angle. For a moment, a wild thought crossed my mind—what if Dean had hot-wired it and driven off, leaving me here? It wouldn’t be the first time I’d deserved something like that.

I continued up the ramp, stealing one last glance into the pool area, which remained as empty as when I’d left it. When I finally turned back to the reception area, I could see the front doors and my Impala parked exactly where I’d left it—except Dean was no longer inside.

“Dean?” I called out into the empty building.

Silence greeted me. I turned away from the door, back toward the reception desk. There were only so many places he could be hiding if he’d made it inside, and I should have heard him the moment he entered. After all, those boots of his were loud and distinctive.

"Dean," I called out again, my voice echoing through the empty building as I moved toward the office space behind the reception desk. I navigated behind the counter, heading for the first of the three small offices. Each space was identical: a desk, a chair, some boxes—typical office clutter. A quick glance was all it took to confirm they were empty.

After closing the door to the third office, I turned around—and nearly ran into something.

“Jesus, Dean!” I gasped, stumbling back with my hand clutching my chest. “How are you so quiet?”

I looked up at him, but something was off. Dean’s expression was void of any emotion, his eyes vacant. This wasn’t Dean anymore. Deep down, I knew the spirit had possessed him—but why?

Without thinking, I bolted toward the pool area, fumbling to pull out my phone to call Sam and Theresa.

“Where do you think you’re going, Y/N?” The voice that came from Dean wasn’t his; it was deeper, darker, like something from a nightmare.

The sheer malice in his tone startled me so badly that I tripped, sending my phone flying down the ramp. It smashed against the wall between the changing rooms, shattering into pieces. I scrambled to gather the remnants, but the damage was done. My phone was beyond repair.

Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Dean—or the thing inside him—standing at the top of the ramp, watching me. I scrambled to my feet and sprinted toward the pools, my only thought to stay out of his reach until Sam and Theresa could burn the cursed pole. It had to have been at least 20 minutes since I last spoke to them; they should have been done by now.

I ducked between the pools, making a beeline for the adults-only balcony, praying that putting some distance and a fence between us might buy me a few precious moments. I raced up the stairs and slammed the gate shut behind me, shoving the nearest sun chair against it. Desperately, I grabbed another chair, but before I could secure it, Dean appeared at the top of the steps, a dark, chilling laugh escaping his lips. The kind of laugh that didn’t belong in real life, but in a horror movie.

"Oh, sweetheart, do you really think a couple of chairs in front of a gate is going to stop me?" His voice was laced with malice, sending a shiver down my spine. “I’ve already begun to think of all the ways your precious Dean could end you.”

“W-why? Why Dean?” I stammered, fear choking my voice.

“Why? Because you’re nothing but a distraction to Dean. So why not Dean? Why not give him the push he needs to remove the biggest pain in the ass in his life?” Dean—or rather, the spirit—yelled, pointing a finger violently in my direction. “It’s all right here in Dean’s head. You haunt his every waking thought. From the moment he first met you, he’s been distracted by the mere thought of you. He’s almost gotten Sam killed, gotten himself killed, all because of you. So why not have him remove the problem? Doesn’t it seem fitting?”

An evil, inhuman grin spread across Dean’s face. In a matter of seconds, the grin vanished as he smashed through the gate. I stood frozen in place, paralyzed by the horror of what he’d just said.

In a few quick strides, Dean closed the distance between us. His hand clamped around my throat, lifting me off the ground and pinning me against the wall. My eyes widened as I caught a brief flicker of recognition in his eyes—Dean was fighting to regain control—but the spirit quickly overpowered him.

Dean’s grip tightened around my throat. I clawed at his hand, gasping for air as the world began to blur. He leaned in close, his face inches from mine.

"Let's make this fun, shall we?" Dean's breath was hot against my face, laced with a twisted cruelty that didn’t belong to him.

Before I could react, Dean hurled me clear across the balcony. My body slammed into the glass wall on the opposite side with such force that I heard it crack. I barely had time to register the pain before he was on top of me again, yanking me up and slamming my back against the railing. The sound of glass shattering and falling to the ground below filled the air. I silently prayed that any second now, the pole would be burnt and the spirit would be gone. I just had to hold on.

"Sorry, Dean," I muttered, summoning every ounce of strength I had left. I kicked him hard between the legs.

He dropped me, stumbling back in pain. It was my only chance. Without hesitation, I slid through the broken glass wall, but I misjudged the height of the drop. Instead of landing on the down ramp, I plummeted to the lower level. Pain shot through me as I hit the ground, a sickening pop signaling that my ankle was dislocated.

Desperate, I began crawling, ignoring the sharp sting of broken glass slicing into my hands and knees. The chlorinated water on the floor seeped into the cuts, intensifying the agony. Behind me, I could hear the unmistakable sound of Dean’s boots on the cement floor—he had recovered quickly, too quickly.

"Now, now, Y/N. I'm going to make you regret that decision," he taunted, his voice dripping with malice.

A sharp, unbearable pain shot through my arm as Dean's boot came down on it, a loud crack echoing through the room. A bloodcurdling scream tore from my throat, but it only seemed to fuel the spirit's sadistic pleasure. Dean's hand tangled in my hair, yanking me across the floor toward the edge of the wave pool. Still clutching my hair, he lifted me and dropped me into the pool's deep end.

I knew I was in trouble. With my dislocated ankle and broken arm, there was no way I could swim back up. Even if I somehow managed to push off the bottom, Dean would just shove me under again. As I sank, I looked up at Dean’s wavy silhouette, his figure distorted by the water. My lungs burned, begging for air, but I couldn’t reach the surface. My foot brushed the bottom of the pool as the edges of my vision started to go black. This was it—the end. A strange sense of relief washed over me. Relief that Dean would no longer have to worry about me, that Sam could finally be free of his burden, and that my parents would no longer have to deal with their problem child.

Just as the darkness closed in, I saw a bright flash of light above me. Dean's silhouette crumpled to the ground, and then everything went black.

A Well Kept Secret

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

1.3k word count

Summary You and Spencer have been in a secret relationship for a year. When you unexpectedly become pregnant it becomes harder to keep that secret.

fluff

Warnings none

Part 2

The suffocating fluorescent lights of the apartment were a welcome change from the sterile white of the doctor's office. Relief washed over You as you closed the door behind you, the positive pregnancy test clutched tight in your sweaty hand. Today was the day you'd tell Spencer.

Your little secret – the apartment you shared just a few blocks from the office – felt like the perfect place to break the news. Stepping into the dimly lit haven, you called out, "Honey, I'm home!"

The sounds of rustling papers filtered from the living room. Spencer emerged; a pair of reading glasses perched precariously on his nose. A tired smile spread across his face as he saw you. "Y/N! You're back early."

"Yeah," you said, you voice uncharacteristically small. "There's something I need to tell you."

Spencer's brow furrowed. He set his papers down and walked towards you, his concern evident. You took a deep breath, you heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs.

"So, remember how I wasn't feeling well and left work early yesterday?" you started, your gaze flickering around the room before settling back on him.

"Of course," Spencer said, his brow furrowing further. "Everything okay?"

"The doctor figured out why I've been feeling so..." you hesitated, a shy smile playing on your lips.

Spencer reached out, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your cheek. "So? Why have you been feeling so...?"

"We're going to be parents, Spence," You blurted out, the words tumbling over each other in a rush.

Spencer froze, his glasses slipping down his nose slightly. The colour drained from his face, replaced by a mixture of shock and something that looked suspiciously like fear.

"Pregnant?" he finally managed, his voice barely a whisper.

You reached out, taking his hand in yours. It was cold and clammy. "Yeah," you said softly. "A month and a half."

Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. You could almost hear Spencer's mind racing, cataloguing the implications, the potential career consequences.

"But... but what about work?" he finally choked out. "No one knows we live together, let alone..."

You squeezed his hand gently. "I know, Spence. But they don't need to know everything, do they? We can figure this out, together."

A flicker of hope ignited in Spencer's eyes. He looked at you, a hesitant smile gracing his lips. "Together?"

"Of course," You said, a warmth spreading through your chest. "We're in this together, you and me. We always have been, even if no one else knows it."

Spencer pulled you into a tight embrace, burying his face in your hair. Relief and a touch of nervous excitement mingled in the air of your secret haven. The future was uncertain, but for now, you had each other, and that was all that truly mattered.

The morning commute was a blur. You sat beside Spencer in the passenger seat, the weight of the previous night's conversation heavy in the silence. You stole a glance at him. His brow was furrowed in concentration, fingers drumming a nervous rhythm on the steering wheel.

You knew his reservations stemmed from your hidden relationship, the unspoken pact you'd made to navigate the professional world without letting your personal lives interfere. Now, the carefully constructed barrier threatened to crumble with the news of your baby.

"You okay, Spence?" you finally asked, your voice breaking the tense silence.

Spencer startled, then let out a shaky breath. "Yeah, just thinking." He shot you a quick, worried smile. "About everything, I guess."

You understood. This wasn't just about a baby; it was about a complete overhaul of your carefully constructed world. Your secret apartment, your stolen moments of normalcy, all of it would have to be re-evaluated.

"We'll figure it out," you said, reaching out to squeeze his hand. The touch seemed to ground him, a silent reassurance in the face of the unknown.

He offered a small smile back, his grip tightening on yours for a brief moment before he focused back on the road.

The rest of the ride was filled with a comfortable silence. As you pulled up to the familiar brick facade of the FBI headquarters, You couldn't help but feel a pang of apprehension. Today wasn't just any day at the office; it was the day your carefully constructed world would begin to shift, one way or another.

Stepping into the bullpen, a familiar buzz of activity greeted them. Morgan was already at his desk, barking into a phone, while JJ, Garcia and Emily chatted by the coffee pot. You offered weak smiles, your mind preoccupied with how to navigate the coming day.

Settling into your own workspace, you found yourself lost in a case file, the words blurring before your eyes. Every few minutes, you'd glance up at Spencer, who sat across from you, his brow furrowed in concentration as he worked on a profile. Your usual comfortable silence felt strained now, laden with unspoken anxieties.

Just as you were about to reach out to Spencer, the bullpen door swung open, and Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner entered. His sharp gaze swept across the room, landing on you for a brief moment before moving on. You felt a familiar knot of tension tighten in your stomach. Telling Hotch about the baby, even without revealing Spencer's involvement, was another hurdle you needed to overcome.

"Sir, could I speak with you for a moment?" You requested standing from your desk.

Hotch nodded, gesturing for you to follow him into his office. Briefly explaining the situation and your concerns about inter-office relationships, you felt a weight lift off your shoulders when Hotch confirmed it wasn't against protocol as long as you remained discreet.

“Why do you ask? Are you seeing someone in the office I should know about?” Hotch asked arching an eyebrow.

“Oh no Hotch but I did loose a bet with Spencer so thank you for that” You smirked at him.

“Let it be a lesson never to place a bet with Spencer” Hotch chuckled.

Elated, you returned to Spencer, a grin plastered on your face. "Hotch says we can be together, as long as we keep things private."

Spencer, however, remained apprehensive. "You told him?"

"No, I just asked about the dating rules," You clarified. "But I will have to tell him about the baby”

"I know" Spencer sighed. "And for now, let's keep me out of it."

You, understanding his reservations, agreed. You returned to Hotch’s office this time revealing your pregnancy but withholding the father's identity. Hotch, to your surprise, offered congratulations and even a hug.

"Does this have anything to do with the question you asked earlier?" he inquired, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

“Uh no not at all” You giggled at the awkwardness of the situation.

“So whose the lucky guy?” He chuckled.

"He wants to keep it quiet for now," You explained.

"Fair enough," Hotch said, a playful smirk crossing his face. "Just as long as it's not Morgan or Rossi."

"Definitely not!" You chuckled. "Wait, so you'd be okay if it was Reid?"

"He's intelligent and dedicated," Hotch admitted. "Besides, Morgan wouldn't settle down, and Rossi's a little past his prime."

"What about you?" You teased.

Hotch chuckled. "We wouldn’t be having this conversation."

Returning to the bullpen, you announced you pregnancy to you colleagues. While everyone showered you with congratulations, they were naturally curious about the father. They had never heard of you seeing anyone and they knew you weren’t the type to just sleep around.

"His name is Spencer, but don't worry, it's not our Spencer," You assured them with a wink.

"Well, whoever he is, we'll have to meet him," Rossi declared, a glint in his eyes.

"Why?" You questioned.

"Just to make sure the newest member of the BAU family is being well looked after," Rossi winked.

The day continued with a new case, and although You was relegated to paperwork due to your condition, a warm feeling bloomed within you. You had a supportive team, a loving partner, and a future filled with exciting possibilities.

Oh no mistakes were made! Tumblr what have you done to me!!!! I confidently finished and submitted my Web Design assignment only to then go back and look at the Tumblr screenshot I used for my example and welp....

I am mortified! My Uni assignment has now been smut bombed and by Eddie Munson none the less!