Objection! Part 5

Supernatural Hunting Living and Love Part 6

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

2.5k word count

summary Dean finally acknowledges his feelings out loud.

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings mentions of stillbirth

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

“Dean, Dean!” A voice pierced through the ringing in my ears, dragging me out of a thick fog. I struggled to piece together what had happened. The last thing I remembered was being in the Impala—Y/N’s Impala—with her… but where was she?

“Dean, can you hear me?” The voice called again, more urgent this time.

“Y/N,” I groaned, but it wasn’t her voice.

A splash of water hit my face, jolting me awake. My eyes shot open, and I found myself sitting at the edge of a pool. The memories came rushing back in a flood: the hunt, Y/N’s anger, following her into the pool... and then nothing. That thing had taken control—I was possessed. My gaze was locked on the pool in front of me when two figures emerged from the water.

“Dean, I need help,” Castiel appeared, cradling Y/N’s limp body.

“No, no, no!” Panic surged through me as I scrambled to pull her from the pool. She wasn’t breathing, and there was blood—so much blood. I didn’t know what to do. My mind was a whirlwind of fear and desperation. I couldn’t lose her, not now. Autopilot kicked in as I grabbed her and bolted for the front door, adrenaline fueling my every step. Cas was right behind me, shattering the glass doors with a wave of his hand so I could barrel through without slowing down.

“Here,” Cas handed me her car keys. I didn’t question where he got them—I didn’t care. I flung her into the passenger seat and jumped into the driver’s side, flooring it toward the hospital. As I drove, my mind raced to come up with a story. Maybe she fell into the pool from a second-story window? Or maybe it was a stupid dare gone wrong? I was grasping at straws when a sharp cry of pain and coughing snapped me out of my thoughts.

“Oh, thank God, you’re alive,” I breathed a sigh of relief, glancing over at her.

“Yeah, no thanks to you,” she spat out, wincing as she tried to move in her seat.

“Me? What did I do?” I asked, concern and anger mixing in my voice.

“You—or the spirit that possessed you—attacked me,” she shivered, her voice trembling.

“Are you cold? I could turn the heat on,” I offered, reaching for the heater.

“Nah, it’s broken…” she muttered, her voice trailing off as she slumped unconscious in her seat.

“Shit, shit, shit,” I cursed under my breath, realizing it was probably the shock setting in. I pushed the car to its limits, and within 15 minutes, I was skidding to a stop outside the hospital. I yanked her out of the passenger seat and rushed inside, shouting for help as I burst through the doors. She was cold, but she was still breathing.

A nurse quickly appeared with a bed, urging me to lay her down. I hesitated, torn between the need to get her help and the overwhelming urge to protect her. I was frozen, unable to let go. A nurse gently placed a hand on my arm, grounding me just enough to let her go.

“It’s okay, she’ll be safe—I promise,” the nurse reassured me.

I nodded, reluctant but knowing I had to trust her. I gently placed Y/N on the bed, watching as they wheeled her away, shouting about trauma shears and portable X-rays.

“Y/N’s a fighter. She’ll be alright,” the nurse spoke up, her voice firm yet kind.

“How do you know her?” I asked, surprised as I turned to face her.

“We went to high school together; we were best friends,” she smiled nostalgically. “After graduation, I chose med school, and she pursued more creative endeavors.”

“I’m Dean,” I introduced myself, holding out my hand.

“Oh, the new boyfriend Rachael was talking about,” she said with a warm smile, shaking my hand. “I’m Lina. I have to say, I’m surprised she finally found someone interested in her.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I felt a sudden, protective urge rise within me.

“I didn’t mean anything bad by it,” Lina clarified quickly. “She’s just… unique. We went to an all-girls Catholic school, and we used to have yearly dances with the boys’ school. None of the guys ever gave her much attention. She wasn’t the typical girly-girl. She never took their crap, never pretended to be something she wasn’t, and she never compromised her values. Honestly, I was always a bit jealous of how she could just be herself without a care in the world.”

“Yeah, well, it’s their loss,” I replied, a mix of pride and realization in my voice. “She’s amazing—so strong and independent. Nothing slows her down. I’m the luckiest guy in the world to have her in my life.” The truth of my words hit me hard, but I knew I could never tell her. I could never burden her—or anyone—with what came with being close to me.

“Come on, let’s fill out her paperwork,” Lina guided me out of the emergency room into the waiting area. She handed me a clipboard with a stack of forms and left me to fill them out.

First name: Y/N Last name: Age: Date of Birth: Place of Birth:

I sighed, staring at the empty spaces on the form. I knew so little about her—just bits and pieces. She’d mentioned she was 22, right? That would make her birth year 1993, but what about the day and month? And where in Australia was she born? Australia is a vast place. Frustration gnawed at me as I realized how little I knew about someone I cared so deeply for. I was about to give up when I heard the familiar flutter of wings, and Castiel appeared beside me.

“January 24, 1993,” Cas said, his voice as calm and steady as ever.

"What?" I asked, confusion lacing my voice.

"Her date of birth is January 24, 1993. Last name: Y/L/N. Place of birth: Goulburn, NSW," Cas rattled off the details like they were common knowledge.

"How did you know that? The 24th—that’s my birthday," I said, looking away from the clipboard, disbelief creeping in.

“The day she was born, something went wrong,” Cas began, his tone unwavering. “She died, but she wasn’t supposed to, so God had me bring her back.”

“What? Did God have some grand plan for her?” I threw my hands in the air, frustration bubbling over.

“I’m not at liberty to say. It’s God’s plan—only He knows,” Cas replied, his words only adding to my irritation.

“If you saved her then, why can’t you fix her now?” I almost yelled, my voice rising with desperation.

“It’s not that simple, Dean,” Cas responded, calm yet infuriating.

“How? Just lay your hands on her and heal her!” I shouted, attracting glances from the people in the waiting room.

“Dean,” Cas said more softly, “when I brought her back to life, it took a piece of myself. A piece she still carries within her. It will help save her.”

“So, what? She’s part angel?” I asked, disbelief and a hint of awe mingling in my voice.

“Yes,” Cas answered simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Great, well now I’ve heard it all.” I shook my head, overwhelmed by everything. I turned back to the paperwork, but to my surprise, it was already filled in. When I looked up, Cas was gone. Typical. I dropped the pen onto the clipboard, running my hand over my face, trying to process everything.

“Dean?” A nurse appeared beside me, her presence pulling me back to the moment.

“Yes, that’s me,” I replied, standing up quickly.

“Y/N is awake and asking for you,” she smiled gently. “Be warned, we haven’t quite got her fixed up yet, but she won’t calm down without you, she says.”

I nodded and followed her through a maze of hallways, the sound of Y/N’s frantic cries growing louder. At some point, the nurse had taken the clipboard from my hands, freeing them to hold Y/N’s and help calm her down.

“Dean,” she choked out between sobs, her voice trembling with fear.

“It’s okay, I’m here. You need to let them help you,” I stayed calm, trying to be the steady presence she needed right now.

The medical staff cut away her clothes and removed her boots as I held her hand tight, not daring to let go. They managed to take X-rays after I reassured her that I’d be just outside the room, even though I knew hospitals terrified her. When they placed the X-rays on the lightbox, I saw the extent of the damage—her ankle and wrist were badly broken. Guilt gnawed at me, knowing I had done this to her, even if I had no control over myself.

I noticed a deep cut running down her forearm. A doctor was doing his best to clean and stitch it up while I kept Y/N’s eyes on me, trying to distract her from the pain. Someone mentioned needing surgery, but I was too focused on her to really take it in. My heart broke seeing her like this—so scared, so small in that hospital bed. When they finally stitched up her arm and bandaged it, a nurse came up beside me.

“Sir, I need you to sign this paperwork for us to go ahead and get her to surgery,” a nurse said, thrusting a clipboard into my face. I quickly signed it and handed it back.

“Please don’t leave me,” Y/N whimpered, her voice barely audible.

“I’ll be right here waiting for you, I promise,” I replied, leaning down to kiss her gently on the top of her head before I could stop myself. I felt an instant sense of calm wash over her from such a simple gesture.

“We’ll take good care of her. If you could go back to the waiting room, someone will come get you when she’s out,” the doctor explained, helping to wheel her out of the room. I reluctantly released her hand as they carried her away.

I made my way slowly back into the waiting room. It felt like time stood still the moment she left the room and disappeared from my sight. I realized how deeply I was in love with her, and she had been clear about how she felt about me. I hated seeing her hurt and had done everything I could to protect her from this. Now, it felt like the only way to keep her safe was to keep her close, yet at arm's length. Maybe if I kept her nearby but distant, she would be safe. Or perhaps pushing her so far away she would never want to see me again.

“Dean! Dean! Where is she?” Sam burst into the waiting room, his voice urgent.

“Slow down, you gargantuan freak,” Theresa called, running full speed behind him.

“What do you care? You don’t like her,” I snapped, standing up to face Sam.

“Yeah, but you do, and I’m obviously not going to change your mind,” Sam sighed, exasperated.

“Well, Sammy, turns out you’re right. She’s a distraction, and I just want to get as far from her as possible,” I replied, trying to maintain a straight face.

“Dean, she loves you. You’d be breaking her heart,” Theresa said softly, almost whispering.

“She’ll get over it,” I responded curtly, turning to leave the hospital. I walked out, leaving Sam and Theresa in shocked silence.

The light was so bright, and the room was spinning. I groaned and tried to sit up.

“Whoa there, take it easy,” I felt a large hand gently push me back into the bed.

“Sam? What are you doing here? Where’s Dean?” I asked, closing my eyes, hoping the spinning would stop.

“To be honest, I have no clue where Dean is, and I’m not sure why I’m here either,” Sam let out an awkward chuckle. “Look, I know I haven’t been the nicest person, but my brother—he loves you, and I guess I just have to accept that. So, truce?”

“Truce,” I replied, attempting a small smile, though it probably looked more like a grimace.

“OH. MY. GOSH. YOU’RE AWAKE!” Theresa suddenly exclaimed, startling me from where she had been sleeping against Sam.

“Woman, turn the volume down,” I groaned, still feeling disoriented.

I opened my eyes to look at her. She had jumped up from her seat and bolted to the side of my bed, pulling me into an awkward hug. Over her shoulder, I could see Sam watching her with a soft smile. The way he looked at her—the twinkle in his eye—it was clear. He was in love with her. I gave him a knowing look, and he smiled in acknowledgment before glancing at the floor. He realized he couldn’t continue acting the way he had been without being insanely hypocritical.

A doctor came in to speak with me not long after. Luckily, he said they didn’t need to use any rods or screws in my arm or ankle. I would be off my feet for at least ten weeks with my ankle, and my wrist might take sixteen weeks to heal completely, he guessed. He organized for me to come back in two weeks for follow-up X-rays and said he would be able to tell me more then. After prescribing some antibiotics, he sent me on my way.

Sam and Theresa helped me out to my car, with Sam driving us back to the hotel and dropping Theresa home on the way. Since I couldn’t use crutches, Sam had to help me into the room, placing me carefully on Dean’s bed before checking the bathroom.

“Dean’s not here, is he?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“Nope, but we’re going to have to check out of here tomorrow and find somewhere else to stay until you’re healed up,” Sam said, looking out the window.

“You’re really going to stay and look after me?” I joked, trying to lighten the mood.

“It’s the right thing to do,” Sam shrugged, offering a small smile.

“Well, thank you,” I smiled back, genuinely touched by his kindness.

“Your mom mentioned something about heading back to Sweden, so maybe we could crash there for a while?” Sam suggested, sounding hopeful.

"Uh yeah, she’ll likely be gone for the foreseeable future, so that would work," I nodded, trying to pull myself further up on the bed to lie down. Sam quickly jumped up, helping me get more comfortable before offering to grab us some food. He took the keys to my car and left the room.

I settled in and closed my eyes, letting exhaustion take over. I must have dozed off because the next thing I knew, Dean was walking through the door.

"Rise and shine, your dinner’s here, and if you don’t eat it, I will," Dean said, tossing a bag at me.

"Touch my food, and I’ll chew your arm off," I retorted, grabbing the bag that had landed against my side.

"We have to be out of this room by 10 a.m., so hurry up and eat," Dean grumbled.

"Why weren’t you at the hospital?" I asked, unwrapping a burger and taking a bite.

"Was I supposed to be at the hospital?" Dean questioned, busy packing his stuff into his duffel before leaving the room.

"You said you’d be there when I woke up," I reminded him when he walked back in.

"I said what I had to so you would calm down," Dean shrugged like it was no big deal. "Now hurry up and eat. I want to be out of here in the next hour," he said, walking off again with more of his and Sam’s stuff.

Caught off guard by Dean’s sudden change in attitude, I decided not to push the conversation further and instead focused on my food. After eating in silence, Sam helped me to my car while Dean went to check us out of the room. Sam drove my car while Dean drove his, both of us heading back to my mom’s house.

I stayed silent even once we arrived. The only time I spoke was to ask Sam to help me to my bed. Once I was comfortable, I closed my eyes and decided to ignore the brothers, who were busy in the lounge room outside my door, going back and forth about what they were supposed to do while I recovered.

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love Part 14

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

2k 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

The road stretched out before us, the familiar rumble of the Impala’s engine filling the silence as Dean drove. The morning had started with an unsettling quietness. Dean had showered, dressed, packed his bag, and headed to the car without a word. It wasn’t like him to be so distant, and the tension in the air was palpable.

I sat in the passenger seat, stealing glances at him as the miles passed. His jaw was tight, his eyes fixed on the road, and his hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white.

In the backseat, Sam and Theresa exchanged worried looks. Sam had been uncharacteristically quiet too, his eyes occasionally darting to the rearview mirror to study his brother. Finally, he broke the silence.

“Dean,” Sam said gently, leaning forward slightly. “You’ve been quiet all morning. What’s going on?”

Dean’s grip on the wheel tightened, and his lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m fine, Sammy,” he said curtly, his voice flat and distant.

“You don’t seem fine,” Theresa chimed in, her tone cautious. “If something’s bothering you, we can talk about it.”

Dean didn’t respond, his focus remaining firmly on the road.

“Dean—” Sam started again, but Dean cut him off sharply.

“I said I’m fine,” he snapped, his voice carrying an edge that made everyone in the car go silent.

I glanced at him, my heart sinking at the sight of the storm brewing behind his eyes. Whatever was eating at him, it was bad. I reached out tentatively, placing my hand lightly on his arm, but he didn’t acknowledge the gesture.

The rest of the drive to the bunker was oppressively quiet, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Sam sat back in his seat, arms crossed, his concern evident even in his silence. Theresa stared out the window, her expression thoughtful but uneasy.

And Dean? He just kept driving, his knuckles white, his eyes hard, and his thoughts a million miles away.

The Impala pulled into the bunker’s garage with a low growl, and before the engine had even stopped completely, Dean was out of the car. The slam of the driver’s door echoed through the space as he stormed off, his boots thudding heavily against the concrete floor.

Sam sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. He looked at me with a mix of sympathy and apology. “Give him some time,” he said quietly. “Whatever’s eating at him, he’ll talk when he’s ready.”

I nodded, though the knot in my stomach didn’t loosen. Dean’s silence on the drive had been bad enough, but the anger radiating off him now was something else entirely.

“Come on,” Sam said, gesturing for me to follow. “I’ll show you to his room so you can put your stuff away.”

Dean’s room was small but surprisingly neat—though still distinctly Dean. The faint scent of leather and whiskey lingered, and the shelves were lined with books and trinkets he’d picked up over the years. I placed my bag on the bed, my fingers lingering on the worn fabric of his blanket, and tried to shake off the unease.

“Theresa’s already explored every inch of this place” Sam said, pulling me from my thoughts. “She’ll want to show you around.”

He was right. Theresa was waiting just outside the room, a cheerful smile on her face despite the tension hanging over the group. “Ready for the grand tour?” she asked.

I followed her through the bunker, trying to focus on her enthusiastic explanations. She showed me the library, where rows of dusty bookshelves stretched toward the ceiling, and the garage, where the Impala now sat alongside other vehicles. She pointed out her and Sam’s room, the spare rooms, and the arsenal, where weapons of every kind were meticulously organized.

The lounge room had a couple of mismatched couches and a large table littered with papers and beer bottles, and the kitchen—well, that’s where I found him.

Dean was leaning against the counter, beer in hand, staring at nothing in particular. His shoulders were tense, and his jaw was set in a hard line.

Theresa paused, sensing the shift in the air. “I’ll, uh, leave you two alone,” she said softly, backing out of the room.

I hesitated for a moment before stepping forward. My heart ached at the sight of him like this, clearly battling something he wasn’t ready to share. Slowly, I wrapped my arms around his waist from behind, pressing my cheek against his back.

“Dean,” I said gently, my voice barely above a whisper. “What’s wrong?”

For a moment, he didn’t move. Then, without warning, he shoved my arms away and turned to face me, his eyes blazing.

“What’s wrong?” he repeated, his voice rising with every word. “What’s wrong is that every time I turn around, there’s someone breathing down my neck! Asking me if I’m okay, if I’m fine, if I’m gonna talk about my damn feelings!”

I stepped back, startled by the sudden outburst. “Dean, I just—”

“You just what?” he snapped, cutting me off. “You think wrapping your arms around me is gonna fix whatever this is? You think you can just ask me what’s wrong and magically make it better?”

His words hit me like a slap, and I felt my chest tighten. My voice cracked as I tried to reply. “I just wanted to help…”

Dean ran a hand through his hair, pacing in frustration. “Well, maybe I don’t want your help! Maybe I just need everyone to back the hell off!”

Tears pricked at my eyes, and I took another step back, my legs trembling. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to—”

But I couldn’t finish. My throat closed up, and the fear creeping into my chest overwhelmed me. I turned and ran, my footsteps echoing down the hallway as I fled the kitchen.

Behind me, I thought I heard Dean call my name, but I didn’t stop. Not until I was far enough away that the lump in my throat started to ease and I could breathe again.

…

Dean’s P.O.V

As soon as I heard her footsteps retreating, I knew I’d screwed up—big time.

“Y/N!” I called after her, but there was no response. Just the echo of her running down the hall, leaving me standing there like an idiot.

“Dammit!” I growled, slamming my fist into the counter. Pain shot through my hand instantly, sharp and biting, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the guilt eating me alive. Blood welled up from my knuckles, and I swore under my breath, heading for the sink.

I turned on the cold water and shoved my hand under it, wincing as the sting hit me. The red swirled down the drain, but it didn’t take away the mess I’d just made. My chest felt tight, and I couldn’t get the image of her face out of my head—the way she looked at me, scared out of her mind. I’d done that. I’d done that.

“You’re an idiot,” Theresa’s voice cut through my thoughts, sharp and unforgiving.

I didn’t even turn around right away. She was right. I was an idiot. “I know,” I muttered, keeping my eyes on the water.

“No, you don’t,” she snapped, and I could feel her glare boring into my back. “If you did, you wouldn’t have just blown up at her like that.”

I finally turned, but I couldn’t look her in the eye. “I didn’t mean to—”

“To what?” Theresa interrupted, her tone like a whip. “To scare her? To make her feel like she’s back in that house where every day was a screaming match?”

Her words hit me like a freight train. “What are you talking about?” I asked, though part of me wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

Theresa crossed her arms, staring me down like I was the biggest idiot on the planet. “Y/N grew up in a house where her parents screamed at each other all the time. And when her dad wasn’t yelling at her mom, he was yelling at her. Over nothing. Over stupid crap that wasn’t even her fault.”

I felt like the ground had been ripped out from under me. My mouth opened, but no words came out. Finally, I managed, “I didn’t know.”

“Of course, you didn’t,” Theresa said, her voice softer now but still firm. “She didn’t want you to know. She didn’t want anyone to know. But now, thanks to your little outburst, she’s probably somewhere having a full-blown panic attack, thinking she’s back in that hellhole.”

I closed my eyes, running my free hand over my face. “I didn’t mean to hurt her,” I said quietly, my voice cracking more than I wanted it to.

“Well, you did,” Theresa shot back. “And it’s gonna take time for her to trust you again. You can’t just fix this by saying you’re sorry and hoping it’ll all blow over.”

“What am I supposed to do, then?” I asked, my voice desperate.

Theresa sighed, her arms dropping to her sides. “You give her space, Dean. You let her breathe. And when she’s ready, you apologize the right way. No excuses, no ‘I didn’t mean to.’ Just own up to it.”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. My hand throbbed under the water, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except fixing this.

Theresa started to walk away but stopped at the door. “Dean, she cares about you. A lot. But you’ve gotta be careful with her. She’s tougher than she looks, but she’s not invincible.”

And just like that, she was gone, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the steady drip of blood swirling down the drain.

I stared at my busted hand, jaw tight as I made a silent promise: I’d fix this. No matter how long it took or what I had to do, I’d make it right.

…

Y/N's P.O.V

I didn’t stop running until my legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the floor in the library. My chest was tight, my breath coming in shallow gasps as sobs wracked my body. Desperate for some semblance of safety, I crawled under one of the large wooden tables and curled up, hugging my knees to my chest.

The tears wouldn’t stop, and neither would the echoes of Dean’s voice in my head—loud, sharp, and angry. Every word cut deeper than the last, dredging up memories I tried so hard to bury.

I didn’t even notice Sam until I saw his boots beside the table. Slowly, he crouched down and settled onto the floor, keeping a careful distance.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his voice low and soothing, like he was afraid to startle me. “I saw you run, and I... I heard what Dean said.”

I buried my face against my knees, too ashamed and overwhelmed to look at him.

“I’m sorry,” Sam continued, his voice full of sincerity. “For whatever’s going on with Dean, for what he said to you. He’s an idiot sometimes, and he doesn’t know how to handle his own crap, let alone anyone else’s.”

His words made me cry harder, and I could tell he was trying to figure out what to do. After a moment, I felt his hand brush against my shoulder, but I flinched instinctively, shrinking back further into the shadows under the table.

Sam pulled his hand back immediately, his voice full of regret. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll leave you alone. Just... come find me if you need anything, okay?”

“No,” I croaked, my voice shaky and barely audible. “Please... don’t leave me.”

He froze for a second, then nodded, even though I wasn’t looking at him. “Okay,” he said softly. “I won’t go anywhere.”

Sam stayed there, sitting silently on the floor beside me. He didn’t say another word, didn’t try to touch me again. He just waited, his presence a quiet reassurance.

Eventually, the sobs slowed, and my breathing evened out. Exhaustion pulled me under, and I drifted into a restless sleep, still tucked under the table like a scared child.

…

Sam’s P.O.V

Y/N’s hiccupping sobs had finally quieted. Her breathing was steady now, the tear-streaked tension on her face replaced by exhaustion. She’d fallen asleep, curled up under the table like she was trying to make herself as small as possible.

Careful not to wake her, I reached under and gently scooped her into my arms. She was lighter than I expected, and the way she shifted against me made my chest ache. Whatever Dean had said—or done—had clearly hit her harder than I realized.

I carried her through the dimly lit halls of the bunker, moving as quietly as I could. When I rounded a corner, I stopped short. Dean was standing there, leaning against the wall, his hand wrapped in a makeshift bandage. His eyes widened when he saw me holding Y/N.

“What the hell happened?” he asked, his voice a rough whisper.

I glared at him, keeping my voice low. “She ran, Dean. She ran and cried herself to sleep under a damn table because of you.”

His face crumpled, guilt washing over him. “I didn’t mean to...”

“Doesn’t matter what you meant,” I shot back, though my tone softened at the sight of his obvious regret. “You need to fix this.”

Dean stepped forward, holding out his arms. “I’ll take her.”

I hesitated, my protective instincts flaring. “Don’t wake her up, Dean. She’s had enough for one day.”

“I won’t,” he promised, his voice low and solemn.

After a moment, I handed her over. Dean cradled her carefully, like she was something fragile, and I watched as he carried her toward their room.

…

Dean’s P.O.V

Holding her in my arms felt like both a privilege and a punishment. She was so quiet, her face still streaked with dried tears, and I hated myself for putting her through this.

I walked into our room, pushing the door open with my foot. The bed was still unmade from earlier, and I laid her down as gently as I could. She stirred for a moment, a soft whimper escaping her lips, before curling into a tight ball on her side.

It broke me.

I stood there, staring at her for what felt like forever. Every instinct screamed at me to stay, to sit beside her and tell her how sorry I was, to make her believe it. But I knew better. She needed space, and right now, I was the last person she needed around.

With a heavy heart, I grabbed a spare blanket from the closet and left the room, closing the door behind me.

The lounge room couch was cold and uncomfortable, but I didn’t deserve anything better. Not tonight. As I lay there, staring at the ceiling, her quiet whimper echoed in my mind, and I made a silent vow to myself.

Whatever it took, I’d make this right.

Updates!

So this morning I woke to the news I have been redundant. The daycare I worked at has been shut down so I spent the day writing instead. So for the next week this is what we're looking at.

Tomorrow: Supernatural Hunting Living and Love Part 6

Thursday 23rd: The Dating Oddessey: Jonathan (final part)

Saturday 25th: Spencer Reid x Reader fic part 1

Monday 27th: Supernatural Hunting Living and Love Part 7

Wednesday 29th: Spencer Reid x Reader fic part 2

I have SHLL Part 6 already ready to go and have The Dating Oddessey half written. My Spencer x Reader story is one I wrote ages ago that I'm going to be fixing up and reposting it's currently titled So Whose the Father but I think I'm going to retitle it. It will only be 3 Parts.

Objection! Part 3

Rafael Barba x fem!Carisi!reader

1k word count

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

slow-burn, colleague to friends to lovers

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It would be my pleasure," I smiled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sounds great to me," Rafael smiled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Heaven forbid my child have a normal birthday party. Nope no way, no how. She couldn't go with just fire fighters. She couldn't go with Paw Patrol or Bluey or anything normal. No it HAS to be Captain Bobby. My 3 year old has to have a Captain Bobby party or the world will end. So now I'm sitting here making custom Captain Bobby invites then I have to go write 118 on the Fire truck piñata we brought so it's Captain Bobby's fire truck or it's not good enough.

Anyway how's everyone else nights going?

The excitement is Real!

I managed to snag a ticket for All Hell Breaks Loose 12! I'll be going to Jared and Jensen's panel and meeting Rob Benedict and Richard Speight Jr! I'm beyond excited! This is my first ever convention too so double the excitement!

My Upcoming WIPs!

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

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

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

What do we want to read next?

I'm hoping to have Supernatural Hunting Living and Love Part 8 and A Well Kept Secret Part 3 (final) up by Sunday so what would we like to see once I've done that.

The Dating Odyssey: Jim

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

2.7k word count

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

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

Out of all the dates you'd been on one stood out to you. You knew Jim was older then you. 25 years your senior but something felt right. After the romantic dinner, every moment feels overshadowed by the memory of that evening. The restaurant had been perfect, a quiet, dimly lit corner of the world that seemed to exist solely for the two of you. There was something about the way the candlelight flickered in his eyes, casting a warm glow that made him seem almost ethereal. The conversation flowed as smoothly as the wine, with laughter punctuating the night, creating a melody that you wish could play on repeat.

Now, days later, you find yourself unable to shake the memory of that dinner from your mind. It's in the quiet moments, when the world slows down, that your thoughts drift back to Jim. You replay conversations, dissecting every word, every glance, and every smile, as if trying to decode a deeper meaning. The taste of the wine, the sound of his laughter, the warmth of his gaze—it all haunts you in the most bittersweet way.

You try to focus on daily tasks, but mundane moments become filled with flashes of that night. A song on the radio brings you back to the moment he mentioned his favourite band, and suddenly you're standing in the restaurant again, hanging on his every word. The scent of your morning coffee reminds you of the way they described his love for espresso, and you're left wondering if Jim's thinking of you too.

The realisation hits you in waves—the way your heart seems to beat a little faster when you remember the softness of his voice, or how a simple memory can bring an involuntary smile to your face. You find yourself picking up your phone more often than usual, half hoping, half fearing he might reach out. Or any of your dates for that matter.

It's not just the memory of the dinner that captivates you; it's the possibility of what might come next. The uncertainty is thrilling yet terrifying, a delicate balance between wanting to dive headfirst into this budding connection and the fear of rushing into the unknown.

You start to notice how the anticipation of seeing Jim again fills you with a mix of excitement and anxiety. The thought of replicating the magic of that night, of finding new ways to connect and deepen your understanding of one another, becomes a constant companion in your thoughts.

As you lie awake at night, replaying the events of the dinner in your mind, you realize that this is more than just a lingering memory—it's the beginning of something profound. The realization that you're perhaps on the precipice of falling deeply for someone based on one night of shared laughter, confessions, and connection is both exhilarating and daunting.

The romantic dinner has become a turning point, a before and after in your life, marking the moment you became utterly captivated by someone who now occupies your every thought. And as you navigate through this haze of longing and anticipation, you can't help but wonder if his feeling the same way, if you're as unforgettable to him as he is to you.

Driving past the Police Station became part of your daily routine. Yet you never dared to enter the station for fear of Jim having changed his mind about you. You had already told the others you weren't interested in any further dates with them which was met with both anger and sadness. Still you couldn't bring yourself to walk through the Police Station stairs.

After driving past the station today you decided to go check out Benny's burgers. For all the time you'd spent in Hawkins you were yet to check out the burger place. Apparently it had the best burger around or at least that it was Jim had said on your date. Actually Eddie and Steve had said the same thing.

You step into Benny's Burgers, the scent of sizzling beef and melted cheese enveloping you as you take in the cozy atmosphere of the diner. Red vinyl booths line the walls, each illuminated by the soft glow of pendant lamps hanging overhead. The sound of classic rock tunes fills the air, adding to the nostalgic charm of the place.

Making your way through the bustling crowd of patrons, you find solace in a booth tucked away in the far corner. The worn leather upholstery invites you to sink into its embrace as you peruse the menu, each item tempting you with promises of savoury delights.

Caught in the throes of indecision, you're suddenly interrupted by the unmistakable presence of the sheriff. His imposing figure cuts through the crowd with confidence, his eyes locking onto yours with a knowing glint. With a nod of recognition, he makes his way over to your booth, a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"Mind if I join you?" he asks, already sliding into the seat across from you before you can muster a response. "I couldn't help but notice you're struggling with the menu. Let me make a recommendation."

Before you can protest, he's already flagging down a waitress and ordering Benny's Famous Beef Burger and two large milkshakes without missing a beat. "Trust me," he says with a wink, "it's the best in the country."

As you wait for your meal, the sheriff engages you in conversation, effortlessly steering the topic towards the romantic dinner you had recently. His words are laced with genuine warmth as he reminisces about the evening, recounting moments shared and laughter exchanged.

Despite the unexpectedness of his presence and the surrealness of the situation, you find yourself drawn in by his easy charm and genuine interest. In the dimly lit booth of Benny's Burgers, surrounded by the comforting hum of conversation and the tantalising aroma of food, you realise that sometimes the most memorable moments happen when you least expect them.

As the waitress sets down the burgers in front of you, the enticing aroma of grilled beef and melted cheese fills the air, making your mouth water in anticipation. You take a moment to admire the masterpiece before you, the golden-brown bun glistening with condensation, the lettuce and tomato peeking out from beneath the perfectly cooked patty.

With a sense of eager anticipation, you take a bite, and the flavors explode on your taste buds in a symphony of deliciousness. The beef is juicy and flavorful, the cheese oozing out with each bite, and the fresh toppings adding a delightful crunch. It's everything the sheriff promised and more—a culinary masterpiece that leaves you speechless.

Glancing up at the sheriff, you find him watching you with a satisfied grin, as if he knew all along that you would be blown away by Benny's Famous Beef Burger. "Well?" he prompts, raising an eyebrow in amusement.

"It's amazing," you admit, unable to suppress a smile of pure delight. "You were right, Hop. This burger is truly something else."

He nods in satisfaction, taking a bite of his own burger with evident relish. "Told you," he says between mouthfuls. "Benny's never disappoints."

As you both savour the delicious meal, the conversation flows effortlessly between you. It's as if the shared enjoyment of the burgers has forged a bond between you, breaking down barriers and allowing for genuine connection. In the warmth of the diner booth, surrounded by the comforting presence of good food and good company, you can't help but feel grateful for this unexpected moment of camaraderie with the sheriff.

And as you continue to enjoy the meal together, you realise that sometimes the best experiences in life are the ones that catch you off guard, the ones that remind you to savour the simple pleasures and appreciate the people who make them possible. With each bite of the delicious burger, you find yourself feeling more at ease, more content, and more grateful for the serendipitous twists and turns that life has to offer.

“So does this count as a second date?” You hesitantly asked Jim

“Only if you want it to” Jim smiled at you

You take a moment to study his features, the lines etched around his eyes hinting at a lifetime of experience, while the warmth in his gaze speaks of a youthful spirit that refuses to be tamed by time.

"Can I ask you something, Sheriff?" you venture, your voice laced with curiosity.

He arches an eyebrow, a silent invitation for you to continue.

"It's about... us," you begin, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. "The age difference, I mean. Does it... bother you?"

The sheriff's expression softens, and he sets down his burger, his gaze meeting yours with unwavering sincerity. "Honestly? At first, maybe a little. But then I realised something." He pauses, as if carefully considering his words. "Age is just a number. What really matters is the connection we share, the understanding, the... chemistry, if you will."

You nod slowly, digesting his words. "I suppose you're right. It's just... unconventional, you know? People might talk."

He chuckles softly, a sound that resonates with warmth and reassurance. "Let them talk. What we have is special, and anyone who can't see that... well, that's their loss."

There's a quiet determination in his voice that leaves you feeling oddly comforted. It's as if he's offering you a lifeline, a reminder that love knows no boundaries, no rules, no constraints. In that moment, you realise that age is just one small facet of the complex tapestry that makes up your connection with the sheriff—a connection that transcends time and defies societal norms.

And as you sit there, enveloped in the cozy ambience of Benny's Burgers, surrounded by the lingering scent of grilled beef and the soft hum of conversation, you find yourself grateful for this unexpected bond that has blossomed between you and the sheriff. It's a reminder that love knows no age, no limits, no boundaries—a truth that you're more than willing to embrace.

As the conversation flows between you and the sheriff, a shadow of uncertainty crosses your mind. What would his ex-girlfriend, Joyce, think of his burgeoning relationship with someone much younger? The thought lingers, unspoken yet palpable in the air between you.

"I can't help but wonder... what would Joyce think?" you venture cautiously, your voice tinged with apprehension.

The sheriff's expression shifts, his features softening with a hint of nostalgia. "Joyce..." he murmurs, trailing off as memories of their past together surface.

"She's a strong woman," he continues after a moment, his tone tinged with fondness. "We may not always see eye to eye, but I'd like to think she wants me to be happy."

You nod, understanding dawning in your eyes. "And does she know about us?" you ask, unable to suppress a note of curiosity.

The sheriff hesitates, his gaze dropping momentarily before meeting yours once more. "Not yet," he admits, his voice tinged with reluctance. "I wanted to be sure... before telling her."

You nod in understanding, sensing the complexity of the situation. Joyce had been a significant part of his life, and breaking the news of his new relationship would undoubtedly be a delicate matter.

"It's... complicated," he continues, his words heavy with unspoken emotions. "But ultimately, what matters is how we feel about each other."

There's a quiet resolve in his voice, a sense of determination that leaves you feeling reassured. Despite the potential challenges that lay ahead, you find solace in the sheriff's unwavering belief in the connection you share.

And as you sit there, surrounded by the warmth of Benny's Burgers and the comforting presence of the sheriff by your side, you realise that whatever the future may hold, you're ready to face it together. With each passing moment, your bond grows stronger, fortified by trust, understanding, and the unshakeable belief that love knows no bounds.

You decide that now is a good a time as any to tell Jim about the other dates. The confession hangs heavy in the air, the weight of your words palpable as you reveal the truth to the sheriff. His expression remains unreadable, a mask of stoicism that belies the storm of emotions swirling beneath the surface.

"You... went on dates with Steve, Billy, Eddie, and Jonathan?" he repeats, his voice betraying a hint of disbelief.

You nod, your gaze fixed on the table as you struggle to meet his eyes. "I know it sounds... complicated," you begin, your voice trembling slightly. "But I wanted to be honest with you, Jim. I didn't want to keep secrets, especially not from someone as important to me as you are."

The sheriff remains silent for a moment, his jaw clenched as he processes your words. When he finally speaks, his voice is calm yet tinged with a hint of sadness. "I appreciate your honesty," he says quietly, his eyes finally meeting yours. "But I won't lie, it's a lot to take in."

You nod in understanding, the weight of your confession hanging heavy between you. "I understand if you need time," you say softly, the words catching in your throat. "I just... I didn't want to hurt you, Jim. You mean so much to me, and I would never want to jeopardize what we have."

The sheriff's expression softens, a flicker of vulnerability shining through the facade of strength. "I know," he murmurs, reaching across the table to gently grasp your hand. "And I appreciate your honesty, I really do. It's just... a lot to process."

You squeeze his hand reassuringly, offering him a small smile of gratitude. "I'm here for you, Jim," you say earnestly. "Whatever you need, whatever you decide, I'll understand. And no matter what happens, I hope we can still be friends."

The sheriff returns your smile, a glimmer of warmth in his eyes. "Thank you," he says softly. "That means a lot to me."

And as you sit there, the weight of your confession hanging heavy in the air, you find solace in the knowledge that no matter what the future may hold, your bond with the sheriff runs deeper than any romantic entanglement. With honesty, understanding, and a shared sense of respect, you know that together, you can weather any storm that comes your way.

As the weight of the conversation begins to ease, you and the sheriff share a silent understanding, a mutual acknowledgement of the complexities of your situation. With a final squeeze of his hand, you both rise from the booth, the lingering scent of burgers and shared confessions lingering in the air.

Stepping out into the cool night air, you find comfort in the familiar surroundings of the parking lot. The neon glow of Benny's Burgers casts long shadows across the asphalt, illuminating the space with a soft, golden light. In the quiet solitude of the night, you and the sheriff stand side by side, the air crackling with unspoken tension.

With a gentle touch, the sheriff reaches out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. Locking eyes with him, you find a silent understanding reflected in his gaze—a shared moment of vulnerability and connection that transcends words.

Without a word, he leans in, his lips meeting yours in a tender kiss that speaks volumes of the emotions swirling between you. In that fleeting moment, the world falls away, leaving only the two of you in a cocoon of shared intimacy and affection.

Pulling back slightly, the sheriff meets your gaze with a soft smile, his eyes filled with warmth and sincerity. "I'll meet you after my shift," he says, his voice a gentle promise. "We'll continue our conversation over drinks, if your up for it?"

You nod, a surge of anticipation coursing through your veins. "I'll be waiting," you reply, your voice filled with a quiet certainty.

With one final glance, you and the sheriff part ways, each step carrying you closer to the inevitable reunion that awaits. And as you walk away, you can't help but feel a sense of hope blossoming within you—a hope that, despite the challenges that lie ahead, love will always find a way to prevail.