Objection! Part 8
Objection! Part 8
Rafael Barba x fem!Carisi!reader
6.1k 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
Authors Note: Drunks me has decide this chapters goodd to go blame the whiskey if its nots also blame the whiskey for any abd spellin and grammar drunk me is also not sorry for the cliffffhnager.
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The squad room was unusually still, the hum of fluorescent lights filling the silence like an ominous soundtrack. I sat at a desk, staring at my phone, willing it to buzz with something—anything. A message. A clue. A sign. My knee bounced restlessly under the desk, and my hands clenched into fists. Each passing second felt like a lifetime, every tick of the clock a painful reminder that Y/N was out there, alone, and I wasn’t doing enough to bring her back.
The air felt heavy, thick with tension that no one dared to break. Amanda was seated at her desk, her hands hovering over her keyboard as if typing might somehow help her forget the helplessness in the room. Finn leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, his expression unreadable but his eyes sharp. Olivia, always the calm in the storm, stood near her office, her arms folded as she scanned the room, likely calculating her next move. But it all felt distant to me. My focus was singular: the phone in front of me that refused to deliver answers.
Then the sound of heavy, purposeful footsteps storming into the room shattered the stillness like a thunderclap. Sonny.
His face was flushed with anger, a storm brewing in his eyes as he practically threw the door shut behind him, the loud slam making everyone flinch. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days—disheveled, tense, and radiating a kind of fury that no one wanted to be on the receiving end of.
“What the hell is wrong with all of you?” he shouted, his voice cracking under the weight of raw emotion. “Why are you just sitting around? Why aren’t you out there looking for my sister?”
Olivia stepped forward, her tone calm and steady as she tried to defuse the situation. “Carisi, we’re doing everything we can—”
But Sonny wasn’t having it. He cut her off, shaking his head furiously. “Don’t ‘Carisi’ me, Captain! My sister is out there with some psycho, and you’re all just standing here like it’s another day at the office!”
His eyes scanned the room wildly, seeking someone to lash out at, someone to blame. And then they landed on me.
“You,” he snarled, his voice dropping to a deadly edge as he pointed a trembling finger at me.
He crossed the room in quick strides, his fury like a physical force that slammed into me before his words even reached my ears.
“This is all your fault.”
I stood, meeting his gaze, my body tense. “Sonny,” I said, my voice low, a warning.
But he didn’t stop. His hands collided with my chest in a hard shove, forcing me to stumble back a step.
“If you’d done your damn job—if you hadn’t failed Anya—Y/N wouldn’t be in this mess!” he shouted, his voice raw with grief and fury. His words cut deeper than any blow, hitting a part of me I’d been trying to bury under determination and focus.
His chest was heaving, his hands balled into fists at his sides. The rest of the squad watched in stunned silence, no one daring to step in just yet.
“You were supposed to look after her, Barba! That was your job!” His voice cracked, tears glistening in his eyes as his anger started to morph into something more desperate.
“I know,” I said quietly, the weight of my guilt making it hard to speak louder.
But Sonny wasn’t done. He stepped closer, his face inches from mine, his voice dropping to a dangerous hiss.
“If Marco hurts even a hair on her head,” he said, his voice trembling with both rage and fear, “you’re a dead man, Barba. You hear me? A dead man.”
The silence that followed was suffocating. The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for me to respond.
I couldn’t.
The guilt was already eating me alive, and Sonny’s words felt like a knife twisting deeper into an already festering wound. I looked down, unable to meet his gaze, my jaw clenched as I tried to keep my emotions in check. The weight of his blame—and my own—threatened to crush me.
Finally, Olivia stepped forward, her hand resting gently on Sonny’s shoulder. “Sonny,” she said softly, “we’re going to find her. But this isn’t helping.”
He shook her off, taking a shaky step back, his chest still heaving. “You better,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper before he turned and stormed out of the room, leaving an oppressive silence in his wake.
I stayed rooted to the spot, my fists clenched at my sides, my eyes fixed on the desk in front of me. The words echoed in my head—your fault, your fault, your fault.
Before I could find my voice, the door opened again, and two uniformed officers walked in, dragging a man between them. Marco. His smug expression was infuriating, even as his dishevelled appearance betrayed that he’d been through hell.
“He turned himself in downstairs,” one of the officers said.
“Get him in interrogation,” Olivia ordered, her voice sharp.
I watched as the officers dragged Marco into the interrogation room, his head held high, his movements casual as if he were walking into a meeting instead of a police station. My blood boiled with every step they took. From the other side of the two-way mirror, I stood frozen, watching every calculated move he made. Marco leaned back in his chair with the smugness of a man who believed he held all the cards, his posture lazy, his lips curled into an infuriating smirk.
Olivia and Finn entered the room, their expressions hard as steel. They were seasoned, unshakable, but even they seemed tense as they faced the man responsible for Y/N’s disappearance. Olivia wasted no time, her tone icy as she cut straight to the point.
“You want to tell us where she is?” she asked, each word like a dagger aimed to pierce his composure.
But Marco didn’t flinch. He didn’t cower or hesitate. Instead, his smirk widened, his dark eyes gleaming with something sinister. His gaze shifted past Olivia, locking on the two-way mirror. It was as if he could see through it, his expression a challenge aimed directly at me.
“I’m not talking to you,” he said with infuriating calm. “I’ll only talk to Barba.”
The words hung in the air like a bomb ready to detonate. My fists clenched so tightly at my sides that my nails bit into my palms. I felt the heat of my anger rising, my pulse pounding in my ears. Through the glass, Olivia turned to glance at me, her hesitation flickering in the subtle furrow of her brow.
Before she could make a decision, I acted on instinct. Without waiting for approval, I pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room felt stifling, the tension pressing down on me like a physical weight. Marco’s eyes lit up as he saw me, his smirk growing into a predatory grin.
“You want to talk to me?” I asked, my voice tight with barely contained rage. I stood at the table, my hands gripping the edge so hard I thought the metal might bend. “Fine. Let’s talk. Where is she?”
Marco leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the table as if he were about to share a secret. “Oh, Rafael,” he drawled, his tone dripping with mockery. “Always so direct. Haven’t you learned by now? It’s never that simple.”
I slammed my hands down on the table, the sound reverberating through the room. The force rattled the chair Marco sat in, but he didn’t flinch. I leaned over him, my face inches from his, my fury barely leashed.
“Enough games!” I barked. “Tell me where she is!”
Marco’s composure didn’t waver. If anything, he seemed to enjoy my outburst, feeding off the anger radiating from me. He tilted his head like a teacher addressing a particularly slow student. “You like scavenger hunts, don’t you?” he asked, his voice deceptively light. “I left you some clues. Why don’t you put that sharp mind of yours to work?”
I wanted to wipe that smug look off his face, to force him to see the gravity of what he’d done. My voice rose, sharp and biting. “You’re wasting precious time!”
For the first time, his smirk faltered, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms, and his grin returned, but it was colder now, sharper.
“No, Rafael,” he said, his tone darkening. “You’re wasting time. The longer you stand here arguing with me, the more water fills her final hiding place.”
His words hit like a sledgehammer, each syllable echoing in my head. Water fills her final hiding place. The room seemed to tilt, my breath catching as the full weight of his threat sank in. Every second was precious. Every moment spent here was a moment closer to losing her.
“What did you say?” I demanded, my voice barely above a whisper, my hands trembling as they gripped the edge of the table.
“You heard me,” Marco said, his smirk returning, but his eyes were darker now, filled with cruel satisfaction. “If you want to save her, you’ll need to start with my things. They’re locked up downstairs. Tick tock, counselor.”
His taunting tone was the final straw. Without another word, I turned on my heel and stormed out of the room, my heart pounding like a drum. His laughter followed me, low and menacing, a ghostly echo that clung to me as I sprinted down the hall.
Every second mattered now, and I wouldn’t waste another.
The moment Marco mentioned Y/N’s life hanging in the balance, a fire ignited inside me. Every second wasted felt like a betrayal to her. My feet pounded against the linoleum floor as I sprinted toward the evidence lockup, Sonny just steps ahead of me. His desperation mirrored my own, his frantic pace proof of how much he cared for his sister.
By the time I reached the evidence room, Sonny was already there, his hands moving with frantic precision as he rifled through Marco’s belongings. His face was a storm of emotions—anger, fear, and determination all vying for control. He barely acknowledged my arrival, snatching up the evidence bag containing Marco’s personal items.
“We don’t have time for this,” Sonny muttered under his breath, more to himself than to me. Without another word, we turned and bolted back to the squad room.
The others barely had time to clear the desks before we dumped the contents of the bag onto one of them, sending papers and small objects scattering across the surface. The noise of the chaotic search filled the air—keys clinking against the desk, papers rustling, receipts crumpling under impatient hands. The tension was suffocating, the silence broken only by Sonny’s muttered curses as he rifled through the mess.
I tried to focus, my hands shaking slightly as I sifted through the random items: a worn leather wallet, a set of keys on a chain with a gaudy souvenir keyring, a handful of receipts, and a few crumpled scraps of paper. None of it made sense. None of it screamed “clue.” My pulse pounded in my ears, the seconds ticking by with cruel indifference.
Then Sonny froze, his hands stilling mid-motion. His eyes locked on the wallet, a look of realization dawning across his face. He yanked it open and pulled out a folded piece of paper tucked into one of the inner pockets.
“What is it?” I asked, my voice sharp with urgency as I leaned closer.
Sonny unfolded the note with shaky fingers, his eyes scanning the handwritten words. “It says, ‘Your next clue can be found where Y/N buys Rafael’s morning coffee.’”
For a moment, I stared at him, dumbfounded. “Where she buys my coffee? I—I don’t know where she goes.”
Sonny scoffed, frustration flashing across his face as he tossed the wallet onto the desk. “Of course you don’t. She’s been doing it for months, and you haven’t even noticed.”
The jab stung, but I didn’t have time to dwell on it. Sonny grabbed his coat, the movement abrupt and filled with purpose. “I do. She always gets it from the same place because they sell her favorite cannoli. Come on.”
Before I could respond, Sonny was already heading for the door, his pace quick and his movements sharp. Olivia grabbed her jacket, sparing a glance at me as she followed.
“Let’s move, Barba,” she said firmly, her tone leaving no room for hesitation.
I grabbed my own coat and hurried after them, sparing a brief glance back at the rest of the team. Amanda, Finn, and Nick were still in the squad room, their expressions a mixture of frustration and determination.
“Keep sweating him,” Olivia called over her shoulder as we left. “We’ll find her.”
The hallway outside felt colder, the sterile fluorescent lights casting harsh shadows. Sonny’s steps echoed ahead of us, his pace nearly a jog. The determination in his stride mirrored the fire burning in my chest. Wherever Marco’s sick game was leading us, I’d follow every step of the way—because failure wasn’t an option.
…
The tension in the car was suffocating as we sped toward the café, Sonny gripping the steering wheel like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. His frustration bubbled over, his voice sharp and accusing as he vented.
“You don’t know where she buys your coffee? Seriously, Barba? She does it every day! You didn’t think to ask? To notice?”
I wanted to argue, to defend myself, but the truth stung too much. I stared out the window, ashamed. “I didn’t ask her to do it,” I muttered, though the words felt hollow.
“You didn’t have to,” Sonny snapped, his voice rising. “You’re just oblivious! That girl would go to the ends of the earth for you, and you wouldn’t even notice. And now, look where we are.”
His words hit like a gut punch, but I didn’t have the luxury of letting them sink in. Y/N’s life was at stake, and dwelling on my shortcomings wouldn’t help.
The car screeched to a halt in front of the café, and Sonny was out before it had fully stopped, slamming the door behind him. Olivia and I scrambled to catch up as he barged inside, holding Marco’s photo up like a badge.
“Have you seen this man?” Sonny demanded, his voice cutting through the hum of the café.
A barista behind the counter paused, her eyes flitting from the photo to me. “Are you Rafael Barba?” she asked, her tone uncertain.
I stepped forward, my throat tight. “Yes.”
Wordlessly, she handed me a coffee cup. My name was scrawled on the side in sharp, black letters, and beneath it, a note in Marco’s handwriting: “Enjoy this at the table closest to the window. Best view in the house.”
I stared at the cup, my stomach churning with unease. “Keep it,” I said, setting it firmly back on the counter. The thought of playing Marco’s twisted game made my skin crawl.
Sonny and Olivia were already at the window, scanning the street outside for anything out of place. I joined them, my eyes darting over the view: the passing cars, bustling shops, and scattered pedestrians. Then my gaze landed on the florist across the street, its display bursting with vivid blooms.
“It’s there,” I said, my voice firm with conviction.
Sonny frowned, skeptical. “How do you know?”
I pointed to the florist’s display. “Magnolias. Y/N’s favorite perfume is magnolia and honeysuckle. That florist has magnolias right out front. It has to be there.”
Sonny didn’t wait for further explanation, and neither did I. The three of us bolted across the street, dodging honking cars and shouted curses from drivers. The air was thick with the sweet scent of flowers as we reached the florist, and we immediately began combing through the arrangements.
I shoved aside bouquets of roses, daisies, and lilies, searching for something—anything—that stood out. Sonny did the same, muttering curses under his breath as petals flew in every direction.
“Cosa stai facendo?” a furious voice suddenly bellowed in Italian, startling all of us.
An elderly man emerged from the shop, his face red with anger as he gestured wildly at the mess we were making. Sonny stepped forward, his tone urgent as he switched to rapid Italian, showing the man Marco’s photo.
“Avete visto quest'uomo? È importante, ha mia sorella,” Sonny pleaded.
The man’s scowl deepened, but after a long pause, he disappeared back into the shop. Moments later, he returned, holding a small bouquet of magnolias and honeysuckles. Attached to the stems was a card.
Sonny snatched it and unfolded it quickly, his hands trembling. He read aloud, “Congratulations on getting this far. I promise the rest won’t be as easy. Your next clue requires some required reading. CSL.”
“CSL?” Sonny repeated, his voice rising with frustration. He crumpled the card in his fist. “What the hell does that mean? There’s gotta be hundreds of libraries and bookstores in the city! How are we supposed to figure out which one?”
“Marco’s clues have been tied to Y/N,” Olivia interjected calmly. “Think. What library or bookstore would be important to her?”
Sonny groaned, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know! She loves reading, she’s been to dozens of places—”
My mind raced. Marco’s game wasn’t random. Every clue so far had been calculated, designed to taunt us and waste precious time. Suddenly, Sonny spoke again, his tone more focused.
“We should go to Y/N’s room,” he said. “Maybe there’s something there. A book, a receipt, anything that could lead us to a specific place.”
I hesitated. The thought of tearing apart her sanctuary, her private space, felt invasive. But there was no other option.
“Let’s go,” Olivia said, already moving toward the car.
We piled in, the silence heavy with unspoken fears as Sonny drove us back to Y/N’s apartment. Every second felt like an eternity, the weight of the clock ticking down pressing harder with each passing moment.
…
Sonny stormed into his apartment ahead of Olivia and me, his frustration palpable as he pushed the door open and headed straight for Y/N’s room. I followed, not knowing what to expect but feeling an ache in my chest I couldn’t shake.
The moment I stepped inside, I was surrounded by her. The faint scent of magnolia and honeysuckle lingered in the air, her favorite perfume. It was subtle but unmistakable, and it sent a pang through me. Her room was uniquely hers—organized chaos that told a story in every corner.
Three towering bookshelves lined one wall, each one crammed full of books. Some were neatly arranged; others had stacks leaning precariously or lying flat across the tops of rows. A mix of genres, from legal thrillers to battered fantasy paperbacks, filled the shelves, alongside small trinkets that made the space so undeniably Y/N.
There were figurines of owls, a tiny Eiffel Tower, and a vintage globe no bigger than my fist. A jar of sea glass sat next to a framed photo of her and Sonny, both grinning like they didn’t have a care in the world. I stopped to look at it for a moment, the joy on her face a stark contrast to the fear I knew she must be feeling now.
The desk was cluttered but purposeful—papers, notebooks, and pens scattered across the surface. A lamp with a floral shade cast a soft glow over the space. A coffee mug sat on the desk, still half-full and abandoned in haste.
The bed, a queen size with a simple gray comforter, was unmade, the covers tossed back as if she’d just rolled out of it. A stuffed animal—a well-loved bear with one eye missing—sat propped up on the pillows. It was the kind of detail that felt so personal, so intimate, that it made my throat tighten.
Sonny tore through the room with urgency, pulling books off shelves and flipping through them for hidden notes. He yanked open drawers in her desk, scattering pens and papers across the floor. “There has to be something,” he muttered, frustration evident in every motion.
Olivia joined him, opening the wardrobe and sifting through the neatly hung clothes. She checked pockets, rifled through shoeboxes tucked on the floor.
I moved to one of the bookshelves, running my fingers over the spines of the books. “She has so many,” I murmured, almost to myself.
“She loves to read,” Sonny said without looking up. “Always has. If you paid more attention, you’d know that.”
I didn’t respond. Instead, I crouched to check the lower shelves, trying not to think about how well Sonny knew her or how much I didn’t.
I opened the bedside table, finding a stack of journals and a flashlight. The journals were tempting, but I couldn’t bring myself to violate her privacy like that—not yet.
“Check the desk again,” Olivia said.
I stepped over to it, brushing my fingers over the coffee mug. It was still warm. She must have left it there this morning before this nightmare started.
Sonny cursed, pulling a pile of papers from the bottom shelf of the last bookcase. “There’s nothing here! No library card, no receipt, nothing.”
I leaned back against the desk, frustrated. The room was in disarray now, her things scattered everywhere, but we’d found nothing useful.
“I don’t know where she goes for books,” Sonny said, his voice breaking slightly.
“She has to have mentioned something,” Olivia said.
Before Sonny could respond, Olivia’s phone rang. Finn’s voice came through the speaker as she answered.
“Any luck on your end?” Finn asked.
“No,” Olivia admitted, running a hand through her hair. “We’ve torn her room apart and come up empty. You?”
Finn put her on speaker, and she repeated the clue. When Nick’s voice cut through, my stomach twisted.
“Centre Market Place,” he said. “Secondhand bookstore, below street level. Y/N took me there once to buy a present for Zara. She calls it her secret hideaway.”
“Of course, Little Italy our Nonna use to take her there all the time, it was their special place, I can’t believe I forgot about that” For a brief moment joy flashed across Sonny’s face but was quickly replaced by determination.
Of course, Nick knew. He’d been there with her, shared that part of her world that I hadn’t.
“She never told me about it,” I said quietly, more to myself than anyone else.
Sonny glanced at me, his expression unreadable. “Well, now you know. Let’s go.”
I followed him out, the scent of magnolia and honeysuckle still clinging to me as we left her room in disarray. The thought of her stuck somewhere, terrified and waiting, pushed me forward. I wouldn’t stop until we found her.
…
Sonny drove like a man possessed, weaving through the dense New York traffic with a reckless precision that made my pulse hammer in my ears. The city blurred past in streaks of light and color as he pushed the car to its limits. My hand gripped the handle above the door tightly, knuckles white, but I said nothing. Sonny’s jaw was set, his focus unbreakable, and I knew better than to distract him. It wasn’t just the speed or the sharp turns that had my stomach in knots—it was the fear. The fear that every second slipping through our fingers might be one we couldn’t afford.
We skidded to a stop in front of the bookstore Nick had mentioned, the tires screeching loudly enough to draw annoyed looks from passersby. The building itself was understated, its entrance a narrow, weathered staircase descending into what looked like the basement of an old brownstone. The sign above the door was small and almost easy to miss, its hand-painted letters reading Rare Finds Books.
The moment we stepped inside, the air changed. It was warm and smelled of old paper and leather, with faint hints of coffee wafting from somewhere deeper in the maze-like shop. Shelves stretched in endless rows, towering over us, each crammed with books of all shapes and sizes. Some areas seemed impossibly tight, the shelves so close together that two people couldn’t pass through at the same time. Hidden alcoves featured overstuffed armchairs and small tables, inviting readers to lose themselves in a story. Despite its modest exterior, the store sprawled beneath the street above, an intricate labyrinth of literature.
“This place is a maze,” Olivia muttered, turning in a slow circle as her eyes scanned the towering shelves. “How are we supposed to find anything in here?”
Sonny’s expression was grim but determined. “CSL. It’s gotta be C.S. Lewis. Y/N loves his books—always has.”
His confidence spurred us into action. We split up without hesitation, scanning the shelves for anything bearing the familiar name. It didn’t take long to locate the section dedicated to C.S. Lewis. The shelves were packed with his works: The Chronicles of Narnia, Mere Christianity, The Screwtape Letters. Gold and silver lettering gleamed on the spines of hardcovers, while well-loved paperbacks showed the wear of countless readings.
Olivia and I dove in, pulling books from the shelves and flipping through their pages. I worked quickly, my fingers trembling slightly as I rifled through covers and dog-eared pages, searching for any sign of a clue. The tension in my chest grew with each empty book I replaced, the clock in my head ticking louder with every passing moment.
Then Sonny froze, his hand hovering over a single book on the shelf. “That Hideous Strength,” he murmured, pulling it down carefully.
I looked over at him. “Why that one?”
“It’s the last book in a trilogy Y/N’s been reading,” Sonny explained without looking up. “She’s been searching for this one for months. I’m sure of it.”
He opened the book, flipping through its pages with purpose. Midway through, a small slip of paper fluttered free, landing on the floor. Sonny snatched it up quickly, his breath hitching as he read it aloud.
“‘Eight clues to go, but will you make it in time? Your next clue will require a steep climb.’”
Olivia frowned, glancing around as though the next clue might be hidden in plain sight. “A steep climb? What does that mean?”
Sonny’s jaw tightened. “It means we don’t have time to waste. Let’s move.”
He dropped the book unceremoniously onto a nearby table and strode toward the door, muttering under his breath about steep climbs in the city. Olivia and I exchanged a quick glance before hurrying after him.
But I hesitated. My gaze drifted back to the book, its edges slightly frayed, the cover bearing the faint marks of countless hands. Something about it tugged at me. Without thinking, I picked it up and carried it to the counter.
“I’ll take this,” I said, pulling out my wallet.
The cashier, an older man with round glasses perched on his nose, smiled faintly as he rang it up. “Good choice,” he said. “Lewis always has a way of speaking to the soul.”
I nodded absently, tucking the book under my arm as I turned to leave. I didn’t know if we’d find Y/N in time, but I clung to the hope that we would. Christmas was only a few weeks away, and if she made it through this, I’d find a way to give her the book. It wasn’t much, but it was something—a small piece of normalcy in a nightmare that felt never-ending.
I jogged to catch up with Sonny and Olivia, the book pressed tightly to my chest like a talisman against the uncertainty ahead.
…
Back in the car, the atmosphere was tense, the air thick with frustration and urgency. Sonny gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white, as he and Olivia volleyed ideas back and forth about what "a steep climb" could mean. Their voices overlapped, each growing louder as their frustration mounted.
“Could it be the Empire State Building?” Olivia suggested, glancing at her phone as she pulled up a map. “It’s a climb, and it’s iconic.”
Sonny shook his head sharply. “Too public. Marco’s been keeping this quiet. It’s gotta be something personal to Y/N.”
I sat in the backseat, clutching the book I had bought for her, my mind racing. The clue had to mean something tied to Y/N—every step so far had been personal, connected to her routines, her likes, her life. Then it hit me.
“What if it’s the courthouse?” I said, my voice cutting through their argument.
Both of them turned to look at me, Sonny’s frown deepening. “The courthouse? Why would it be there?”
I leaned forward, gripping the back of the front seat. “She’s there almost every day. It’s a part of her routine. The steps could easily be considered a steep climb.”
Sonny’s eyes flicked to Olivia, annoyance flashing briefly in his expression, as if he was frustrated he hadn’t thought of it first. But then his jaw set, and he nodded. “Alright, let’s check it out.”
He hit the gas, the tires screeching as we sped toward the courthouse. The familiar city streets whipped past, the growing ache in my chest tightening with every block. Time felt like a physical weight pressing down on me, each second a reminder that Y/N could be slipping further away.
The moment we arrived, we were out of the car and sprinting toward the courthouse steps. The towering building loomed over us, its columns and grandeur as imposing as ever. We scaled the steps two at a time, the burn in my legs barely registering through the adrenaline coursing through me.
At the top, a man leaned against the railing, his clothes tattered, a worn backpack slung over his shoulder. He straightened the moment he saw us, his sharp eyes locking onto me.
“Hey!” he called, his voice rough but clear. “You Rafael Barba?”
I stepped forward, my chest heaving. “Yes. Did someone leave a message for me?”
The man nodded, digging into his pocket. From the folds of his jacket, he pulled out a crumpled $50 bill. “Some guy gave me this. Told me to wait here and say, ‘Water liberty seat.’”
“Water liberty seat?” Sonny repeated, his voice rising with frustration. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
The man shrugged, pocketing the bill and wandering off before we could press him for more information. Sonny threw up his hands in exasperation, pacing back and forth along the top step. “This is ridiculous! How the hell are we supposed to make sense of that?”
Olivia placed a calming hand on his shoulder. “Sonny, we’ll figure it out. We just have to stay focused.”
But I wasn’t paying attention to them. My mind was already working, the words tumbling over each other in my head like puzzle pieces sliding into place. Water liberty seat. It wasn’t random. It wasn’t a riddle—it was a description.
“Battery Park,” I said, my voice cutting through Sonny’s muttering.
Sonny stopped mid-pace, turning to face me. “What did you say?”
“It’s Battery Park,” I repeated, more firmly this time. “Y/N eats lunch there sometimes when she’s working late. She told me once she likes to sit where she can see the Statue of Liberty. ‘Water liberty seat’—it fits.”
Sonny blinked, his frustration giving way to dawning understanding. “That’s... yeah, that’s gotta be it.”
Olivia nodded, already heading for the car. “Then let’s move.”
We were running again, my legs burning as we pounded back down the courthouse steps. The sense of urgency clawed at me, each step feeling heavier, each second more precious.
As we raced through the streets toward Battery Park, I couldn’t shake the thought gnawing at the back of my mind: time was slipping through our fingers, and we couldn’t afford to lose another moment.
…
Sonny slammed on the brakes, bringing the car to a screeching halt in front of Battery Park. Before the engine had fully died, I was out of the car, my feet pounding against the pavement. My focus zeroed in on the bench, the one Y/N always sat on, the one I’d overlooked so many times before.
The bench faced the water, perfectly positioned to catch a view of the Statue of Liberty. I dropped to my knees beside it, ignoring the curious stares from passersby. My hands groped underneath, searching for something, anything, out of place. My fingers brushed against the edge of a crinkled paper bag, wedged in a spot so hidden it was almost invisible.
“Got it,” I muttered, tugging the bag free and sitting back on my heels. Olivia and Sonny crowded around me as I opened it. Inside was a neatly wrapped sandwich and a single folded piece of paper.
The note was maddeningly vague, written in Marco’s infuriatingly smug handwriting: “You know where to go.”
Sonny snatched the note from my hand, scanning the words as his frustration boiled over. “What the hell does that even mean?” he shouted, crumpling the note and hurling it into the trash along with the untouched sandwich. “This guy’s screwing with us! We’re running around the city while Y/N—” His voice broke off, and he turned away, pacing angrily along the sidewalk.
I sat on the bench, the weight of the situation pressing down on me like a tidal wave. My head dropped into my hands as I tried to piece together Marco’s twisted logic. He wouldn’t leave something vague without expecting me to figure it out. It wasn’t random; it was deliberate.
The steady rhythm of the waves caught my attention, pulling my gaze toward the water. For a moment, the chaos around me faded. The answer wasn’t in the note—it was in Marco’s mind. Every step of this game was a taunt, a deliberate jab at me. This wasn’t about Y/N, not really. She was the bait, a pawn in Marco’s personal vendetta.
I stood abruptly, the answer snapping into focus. “The DA’s office,” I said, turning to Olivia and Sonny. “It has to be the DA’s office.”
Sonny stopped pacing, his frustration giving way to determination. “Why the DA’s office?”
“Because this about Y/N,” I said, my voice steady despite the turmoil in my chest. “It’s about her. Every clue has been personal, tied to her life, her routine. The DA’s office is the center of it all—it’s where he wants me.”
Without hesitation, we piled back into the car. Sonny floored the gas, the tires screeching as we tore through the city streets. Inside the car, the tension was a living thing, suffocating and thick. The blare of horns and shouts of frustrated drivers barely registered over the pounding of my heart.
Sonny broke the silence, his knuckles tight on the steering wheel. “I’ve been thinking,” he said, his voice low but edged with anger. “Why Y/N? Why did Marco go after her? Why would he think she’s your weakness?”
His question hung in the air like a blade poised to strike. Olivia shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror. Her gaze was heavy with sympathy, but I looked away, unable to face it.
I knew why. We, Olivia and I, both did. But the words stuck in my throat, the admission too raw, too close to everything I had ignored for far too long. Y/N was targeted because of me—because I had let her into my life without considering the danger that came with it. Marco saw her as my weakness, the one way to make me pay for what he thought I’d done to him.
But I couldn’t say it. Not now. Not with Sonny’s anger simmering and Olivia’s quiet understanding pressing down on me like a weight I couldn’t lift.
“I don’t know,” I lied, my voice barely above a whisper.
The silence in the car was deafening after that. Sonny’s jaw tightened, and I could feel his frustration radiating off him, but he didn’t press further. Olivia glanced back at me again, her eyes soft with unspoken words, but I kept my gaze fixed out the window. The city blurred past, the familiar streets a reminder of how close we were—and how far Y/N still seemed.
As we approached the DA’s office, my chest tightened. The closer we got, the heavier the weight on my shoulders grew. Marco had dragged us here for a reason, and I could only pray we weren’t already too late.
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Thought it was about time I gave an update/schedule. I'm going away for a week over Christmas to see family but I'm hoping to post something New Year's Eve before I hit the town. I'm not going to give exact dates for when I'll post parts cause lord knows I will never stick to it lol. Also I'm working on a novel that I hope I'll actually finish this time and get published so we'll see how that goes I guess. So for now this is the plan:
Dec 2023:
Supernatural: Hunting, Living and Love (SHLL) Part 3
Dating Oddessy: Eddie
Jan 2024:
SHLL Part 4
Dating Oddessy: Jim
SHLL Part 5
Dating Oddessy: Billy
Feb 2024:
SHLL Part 6
Dating Oddessy: Jonathan
SHLL Part 7
I also have a bunch of other ideas that I may drop in here or there just to break it up a bit. If you have any requests let me know and I'll add those to my list too!
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.
Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love Part 17
Dean Winchester x fem!reader
4.1k word count
fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers
warnings none
Authors Note: 3 chapters to go!
Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter
I sat cross-legged on the bed, the weight of Cas’s words pressing heavily on my chest. Dean was sitting across from me, his brows furrowed as he listened to me recount every detail of what the angel had said. I could barely look at him, afraid of how he might react.
When I finished, there was a long pause. Finally, Dean sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Look, about the Nephilim thing... I already knew.”
My head snapped up. “What?”
“Cas told me a while ago,” he admitted, his voice low. “He thought I should know, in case it ever... came up. But I didn’t think it mattered. You’re still you, Y/N. Nephilim or not.”
I stared at him, a mix of emotions swirling in my chest. “You didn’t think I deserved to know?”
Dean winced. “I figured it’d just freak you out, and you’ve had enough on your plate. I was gonna tell you eventually, I swear.”
I sighed, rubbing my temples. “And the pregnancy thing?”
“That,” he said with a dry laugh, “I’m pretty sure is Cas being Gods good little soldier. He’d do anything that guy says. But if it’s really bugging you, we can grab a pregnancy test and settle it.”
I shook my head, feeling a strange mixture of relief and frustration. “You’re probably right. It’s just Cas being... weird.” I hesitated before adding, “Let’s just forget about it for now.”
Dean nodded, his hand reaching out to squeeze mine. “Good call.”
I let myself lean back into the pillows, forcing the thoughts to the back of my mind. It wasn’t easy, but with Dean’s steady presence beside me, sleep eventually came.
…
The next morning, I was jolted awake by a loud banging on the bedroom door.
“Y/N! Dean! Wake up!” Theresa’s voice was practically vibrating with excitement.
Dean groaned, rolling over to glance at the clock on the nightstand. “It’s 10:30,” he grumbled. “What could possibly be so exciting at 10:30 in the morning?”
Before either of us could get out of bed, the door burst open, and Theresa stood there, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet.
“I’m pregnant!” she blurted, her grin so wide it could’ve lit up the room.
I blinked at her, the words taking a moment to sink in. Dean sat up straighter, his face a mix of shock and confusion.
“Pregnant?” he repeated, his voice flat.
Theresa nodded eagerly. “Yes! I just took the test. Sam and I are having a baby!”
The silence that followed was heavy but only lasted a beat before I broke into a wide smile. “Oh my god, Theresa! That’s amazing!”
I jumped out of bed, wrapping her in a tight hug as her excitement became infectious.
Dean sat there, still looking stunned. “Congrats,” he managed, his voice laced with a kind of bemused awe.
Theresa pulled back from the hug, her eyes bright with happy tears. “Thanks! I just had to tell you guys first!”
As she babbled on about telling Sam and their plans, I couldn’t help but glance back at Dean. His expression softened as his gaze met mine, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips.
For the first time in a long time, things felt... good. Even with all the uncertainty hanging in the air, this moment was pure joy.
…
Theresa from the moment she told us hadn’t stopped talking about dragging me shopping to put together a gift for Sam to announce the pregnancy.
Theresa practically dragged me from one store to another, her excitement bubbling over as she picked up tiny baby clothes, soft booties, and pacifiers, holding each one up for my opinion. I couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm, even if the topic of babies brought an unsettling knot to my stomach.
“This is so cute, isn’t it?” Theresa asked, holding up a pale-yellow onesie with little ducks on it.
“Adorable,” I replied, my voice light even though my thoughts were far from the conversation.
By the time lunchtime rolled around, we had a few small items in hand, ready to put together a gift to announce her pregnancy to Sam. Just before we were about to head out, Theresa suddenly stopped.
“Wait, I need to pop into the pharmacy,” she said, gripping her stomach lightly. “This morning sickness thing... I’m not sure ginger cookies and ginger ale are gonna cut it no matter what Google says.”
“Of course,” I said, following her inside.
While Theresa chatted with the pharmacist about options, I found myself wandering down the aisles. My feet carried me to the pregnancy test section before I even realized where I was.
The shelves were lined with boxes in bright colours, each claiming to be the most accurate. My hand hovered over one, my heart pounding. I glanced back to make sure Theresa was still preoccupied, then quickly grabbed a box and shoved it into my pocket.
“Ready to go?” Theresa asked cheerfully, appearing behind me with a small bag in her hand.
“Yep,” I said, forcing a smile.
As we walked out, Theresa caught the scent of garlic bread wafting from a nearby restaurant. “Oh my god, we have to eat here,” she said, practically drooling.
I laughed. “Garlic bread it is.”
We found a small table by the window and placed our orders. The knot in my stomach tightened as I excused myself to go to the restroom.
Inside the stall, my hands trembled as I opened the box. The instructions were simple enough, but my nerves made everything feel harder than it should have been.
Minutes later, I stared at the small screen, holding my breath.
Negative.
A wave of relief washed over me, so strong I had to sit for a moment to steady myself. I tucked the test into the little trash bin and washed my hands, staring at my reflection in the mirror.
“Get it together,” I muttered to myself.
When I returned to the table, Theresa was happily munching on her garlic bread. “This is the best thing ever,” she declared, holding up a piece for emphasis.
I chuckled, sitting back down. “I take it we’re ordering more for the bunker?”
“Absolutely.”
As we ate, the conversation shifted to Sam’s gift. We brainstormed ways to wrap it, deciding on a small box with tissue paper and a handwritten note.
Theresa brought up pregnancy care, casually waving off the concern. “I’m sure we’ll figure something out,” she said, popping a piece of bread into her mouth.
I nodded, but her nonchalant attitude left me wondering. I made a mental note to look into options for her later.
By the time we left the restaurant, the heavy weight on my chest had eased. Theresa’s joy was infectious, for a moment I let myself believe that maybe just maybe Cas was wrong, that maybe he was just saying what God wanted him to.
Just as we were about to leave the restaurant my phone buzzed dragging me away from our conversation.
“Oh well looks like our plans are on hold” I sighed looking at the text “Dean messaged, apparently the holidays over”
…
We sat around the war room table, maps and files spread out in front of us as Dean leaned back in his chair, tossing a pen between his fingers.
“Just got off the phone with Bobby,” Dean said. “He says there’s something weird going down in a little town called Centerville, Pennsylvania. Looks like a couple of demons are running the place, setting up some kind of... meatsuit recruitment drive. At least fourteen people have gone missing after passing through.”
I frowned, leaning forward to study the map of Centerville. “Fourteen? That’s a lot, even for demons. What’s Bobby think they’re planning?”
Dean shrugged. “He’s not sure. Could be they’re stockpiling bodies for something bigger, but whatever it is, we’re gonna shut it down.”
“Sounds like a solid lead,” Sam said, pulling out his notebook and jotting down a few details.
Dean turned to Theresa, his tone firm. “You’re sitting this one out.”
Theresa’s eyes widened. “What? Why? I’m perfectly capable—”
“He’s right,” I interrupted, giving her a meaningful look. “You should stay behind, and we’ll call Bobby to come hang out with you.”
Theresa’s confusion mirrored Sam’s as he glanced between us. “Okay, what’s going on?”
Theresa hesitated, then reached into her bag, pulling out a small gift box she’d carefully prepared on the way back from town. She slid it across the table toward Sam, her excitement bubbling just beneath the surface.
Sam took the box, his brows furrowing as he opened it. Inside were the baby items we’d picked out: the tiny onesie, a pacifier, and a positive pregnancy test.
For a moment, he just stared, as if his brain needed an extra second to catch up. Then his face broke into a grin so wide it was almost comical. “You’re... you’re pregnant?”
Theresa nodded, her smile just as wide.
Sam was out of his chair in a second, pulling her into a tight hug. “Oh my god, this is incredible!” he said, his voice full of unrestrained joy.
Theresa laughed, hugging him back. “I was gonna tell you last night, but the timing didn’t feel right.”
Dean cleared his throat, his expression softening as he watched the moment. “And that’s why you’re staying behind. No way we’re risking you and the baby out there with demons.”
Sam nodded quickly, turning to Theresa. “Dean’s right. It’s too dangerous.”
Theresa’s smile faltered. “I’m not helpless, you know.”
“We know,” I said gently, reaching out to touch her hand. “But this isn’t just about you anymore. And Bobby will make sure nothing happens here while we’re gone.”
Theresa sighed, crossing her arms. “Fine. But I’m not happy about it.”
Dean smirked. “Noted.”
Within the hour, the Impala was packed, and the three of us hit the road to Pennsylvania. As I settled into the seat beside Dean, I glanced back at Theresa, who stood in the doorway of the bunker, Sam’s arm draped protectively around her shoulders.
We had a job to do, but part of me already couldn’t wait to come back.
…
After what felt like an eternity on the road, we finally rolled into Centerville under the cover of darkness. The town had a strange vibe—quiet, too quiet for a place that had a growing reputation for disappearances.
“Motels are a no-go,” Dean said, scanning the town as we drove through. “Too many eyes.”
Sam pointed to a dilapidated house on the edge of town, its windows boarded up and the lawn overgrown. “That’ll work. Looks abandoned.”
Dean turned the Impala into the dirt driveway, parking beside a rusted shed attached to the house. We all piled out, stretching and shaking off the stiffness from the long drive.
“Hide her in there,” Dean said, nodding toward the shed.
Together, we pushed the Impala inside, closing the rickety doors behind us. The house itself was better than I’d expected, but not by much. The inside smelled like dust and decay, and the floorboards creaked with every step.
“It’s got charm,” I said dryly, earning a snort from Dean.
“We’ll make it work,” Sam said, tossing his bag onto what might have once been a couch. “Let’s head into town, see what we can dig up.”
We cleaned up quickly and headed out, walking toward the town center under the dim glow of streetlights. Centerville looked like any other small town, but something felt... off.
Our investigation eventually led us to a bar that seemed to be the social hub for visitors. Inside, the air was thick with cigarette smoke and the low hum of conversation. A pool table sat in the corner, and a jukebox played a classic rock tune that barely drowned out the sound of clinking glasses.
We split up, each taking a different approach to questioning the locals. I struck up a conversation with the bartender, a wiry man with a skeptical gaze.
“Strangers roll through here often?” I asked casually, leaning on the bar.
He shrugged, wiping a glass. “Not much to see in Centerville. Most don’t stick around long.”
“What about the ones who do?”
His eyes narrowed slightly. “Why you asking?”
“Just curious,” I said with a smile, trying to put him at ease.
Eventually, the bartender opened up. He and a couple of locals confirmed they’d seen the same couple hanging around the bar regularly—a man and a woman who had apparently blown into town about a year ago and never left. They’d made themselves at home, which was unusual in a town like this.
Dean joined me at the bar, a cold beer in his hand. “They sound like our demons,” he muttered under his breath.
“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Sam said, appearing behind us. “But it’s definitely worth looking into.”
We stayed a little longer, gathering more details about the mysterious couple before heading back to the abandoned house. The pieces were starting to come together, but we still had more questions than answers.
…
The house was eerily quiet as we settled in for the night. The faint creak of the wind brushing against the boarded-up windows added to the atmosphere. Sam and Dean were in the small, makeshift living room, pouring over maps and the notes we’d scribbled down from the bar. I sat cross-legged on a tattered armchair, watching as they hashed out tomorrow’s plan.
“We need to figure out where they’ve been taking these people,” Sam said, tapping his pen against the map.
Dean grunted. “Yeah, but waltzing into their hideout isn’t exactly easy. They’ve been here a year. They know the lay of the land better than we do.”
Sam leaned back, crossing his arms. “That’s why we need to split up. Y/N should approach them. Alone.”
Dean’s head snapped up, his jaw tightening. “No way. Not happening.”
Sam held up a hand. “Hear me out. They’ve been targeting strangers, right? Someone who seems like they don’t have ties. If Y/N plays the part of a solo traveler, it could get them to drop their guard.”
I stayed quiet, letting them argue. Dean’s protectiveness was nothing new, but this was different. His shoulders were tense, his voice edged with something more than frustration—it was fear.
“And what if it’s a trap?” Dean shot back, glaring at Sam.
“It’s always a trap, Dean,” I said, finally speaking up. “We’re hunters. That’s the job.”
Dean turned to me, his eyes softening but still filled with worry. “I don’t like this.”
“I can handle myself,” I said firmly.
Sam nodded. “We’ll be nearby the whole time. If anything happens, we’ll step in.”
Dean rubbed his face, letting out a frustrated sigh. “Fine. But the second anything feels off, you’re out. Got it?”
I nodded. “Got it.”
With the plan decided, we started preparing for the next day. I packed a small bag with essentials—my knife, a flask of holy water, and a few other tools of the trade. Dean handed me an emergency burner phone, his fingers brushing mine longer than necessary.
“Use it the second something goes wrong,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
“Promise,” I replied.
As the night wore on, we all settled into our makeshift sleeping arrangements. Dean and I took the slightly less destroyed bedroom, though the mattress on the floor left a lot to be desired. Sam claimed the couch, his long legs awkwardly dangling over the edge.
Lying next to Dean in the dark, I could feel the tension radiating off him. His breathing was steady, but I knew sleep wouldn’t come easy for him tonight.
“Dean,” I whispered.
“Yeah?”
“We’ll figure this out. Together.”
He didn’t say anything, but his hand reached out, finding mine in the darkness. He gave it a gentle squeeze.
“I know”
…
The plan was in motion the moment I stepped into the bar. The air smelled of stale beer and desperation, a fitting backdrop for what I was about to do. Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I took a seat at the counter, making sure to appear as if I didn’t have a care in the world. My eyes darted around briefly, taking in the patrons. I spotted Sam a few minutes later, casually perched at the opposite end of the bar, his head down like he was nursing a bad day. Dean, much to his displeasure, was waiting outside in the Impala, ready to spring into action.
The bar door creaked open, and in walked the couple. Even without seeing their eyes flash black, I knew. The energy around them was unmistakable—dark, predatory. They carried themselves with the confidence of predators circling their prey.
I felt their gazes lock onto me almost immediately. My heart pounded in my chest, but I didn’t let it show. I picked up my drink and took a casual sip, pretending not to notice them as they approached.
The man slid onto the stool to my right, the woman to my left, effectively boxing me in. “Well, hey there,” the man said, his voice smooth but with an undercurrent that made my skin crawl. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?”
I turned my head slightly, giving him a small, shy smile. “Just passing through,” I said, keeping my voice light and friendly.
The woman leaned in, her perfume almost choking me. “Passing through? Someone like you must have places to be, people to see.”
I shook my head. “Not really. Just… trying to figure out where I’m going next.”
“Perfect,” the man said, his grin widening. “We might be able to help with that. You see, my partner and I—” he gestured to the woman with a nod “—work for a modeling agency. Talent scouts. And, well…” He looked me up and down, his gaze lingering uncomfortably. “You’ve got the look.”
My stomach churned, but I forced a surprised laugh. “Me? Modeling? I don’t know…”
The woman placed a hand on my arm, her touch cold despite the warmth of the bar. “You’ve got it, trust me. We’ve got a studio just outside town. Free shoot, no strings attached. Just to see if you’d be a good fit.”
I hesitated, playing my part. “I don’t know. I mean, I’ve never done anything like that before.”
“That’s the beauty of it,” the man said, his tone dripping with fake enthusiasm. “Fresh faces. Untapped potential.”
I looked between them, feigning a mix of doubt and intrigue. “Alright. Why not?”
The woman clapped her hands together, her smile too wide. “Fantastic. Let’s head out.”
I glanced toward the exit briefly, knowing Dean was just outside, then picked up my bag and followed them out of the bar. As we walked to their car, I caught Sam’s reflection in the bar mirror. His jaw was tight, his fingers twitching, ready to act if needed.
The couple led me to a black sedan parked a few spaces away. The man opened the back door for me, gesturing for me to get in.
I climbed in, clutching my bag tightly. The moment the door shut, I felt the weight of their eyes on me, and I forced myself to focus. This was just the beginning. Dean and Sam wouldn’t be far. Whatever came next, I wasn’t alone—even if I had to act like I was.
I sat in the back of the black sedan, watching as the town disappeared behind us. The ride was long, the demons making small talk, keeping up their act as professional talent scouts. I played along, feigning excitement and nervousness, while my mind stayed focused on the mission.
The farmhouse they took me to was beautiful, the kind of place that would make anyone believe this was a legitimate opportunity. Inside, they led me to a professional-looking studio, complete with backdrops, bright lights, and a rack of designer clothes.
For two hours, they ran the whole con—switching my outfits, styling my hair, touching up my makeup. They directed me through various poses, snapping pictures as if this was just another day in the life of a budding model. It was almost impressive how much effort they put into the charade. Almost.
At the end of it, they smiled, nodding approvingly.
“You’re perfect,” the woman cooed, brushing a stray curl from my face.
“Absolutely,” the man agreed. “We’ll put you up for the night, and first thing in the morning, someone will take you to New York to sign the contracts.”
I widened my eyes in fake excitement. “Really? Oh my god, this is insane!”
The woman smiled. “I know. You’ll be a star.”
They led me to a cozy-looking bedroom, complete with a plush bed and a window overlooking the fields. The moment the door clicked shut behind them, I dropped the act.
I moved cautiously, making sure I wasn’t being watched. Then, I pulled out my phone and typed a message to Dean and Sam.
Demons running a long con. Getting people out of town with the modeling scam. They plan to move me to NYC in the morning. No sign of the other victims yet. What’s the plan?
Dean’s reply was almost instant.
We’re pulling you out. Letting Bobby know their next stop. Sit tight. We’re coming.
I let out a slow breath. Good. I had no doubt they’d come for me, but still, something in my gut felt off.
…
Dean and Sam broke into the house as quietly as possible. The plan was simple—get in, take the demons by surprise, and get out before anyone knew what hit them.
But something went wrong.
I heard the scuffle from my room—the heavy thuds of bodies colliding, the crash of furniture breaking. My heart pounded as I cracked the door open just in time to see Sam wrestling the female demon, chanting an exorcism.
And then I saw Dean.
Or rather, I saw the way his body jerked unnaturally, his back arching as the male demon forced its way inside him. His green eyes flashed black.
My breath caught in my throat. “No.”
He turned his head slowly, those black eyes locking onto me with a cruel smirk. “Well, well,” the demon purred, rolling Dean’s shoulders like he was settling into a new suit. “This is… cozy.”
“Dean.” My voice shook. “I know you’re in there. You have to fight it.”
The demon laughed, stepping closer. “Oh sweetheart, he’s fighting all right. But he won’t win.”
Sam had finished his exorcism, the female demon shrieking as she burned away. Now he turned to me, panic in his eyes.
“Y/N, get back!”
But I couldn’t move. Not when Dean’s possessed body lunged at me.
I barely had time to react before I was pinned against his chest, held between Dean and Sam. Deans hunting knife was held to my throat. I was looking at Sam as tears pricked my eyes.
I gasped, clawing at his wrist, my heart hammering. “Dean,” I choked out. “Please… you can fight this.”
His grip faltered for the briefest second, his expression twisting in pain. “Y/N…” Dean’s voice broke through, hoarse and strained.
The demon snarled, trying to regain control, but I felt the flicker of resistance in Dean’s arms.
“That’s it,” I whispered. “You’re stronger than him. You’re stronger.”
Dean clenched his jaw, his whole body shaking as he fought the demon inside him. Then, with an agonized roar, his head snapped back, and a thick cloud of black smoke erupted from his mouth, disappearing through the nearest vent.
Dean collapsed to his knees, gasping for breath.
I didn’t hesitate. I dropped down beside him, wrapping my arms around him in a tight, desperate hug. “I thought I was gonna lose you,” I sobbed, clutching onto him like he might disappear.
He exhaled shakily, his arms circling me just as tightly. “I’m here,” he murmured. “I’m right here.”
…
Back at the abandoned house, we packed up in silence, the weight of the failed hunt pressing down on us.
Sam was on the phone with Bobby, explaining what had happened, his voice tight with frustration. “One got away… Yeah, we’ll head back to the bunker…can we talk about this later”
I sat in the Impala, my hands still trembling slightly. The reality of what had happened hadn’t fully sunk in yet. Dean had almost—
I shook my head, shutting the thought down. He was here. He was okay.
Dean slid into the backseat beside me, pulling me against him. “You’re shaking,” he murmured.
I let out a weak laugh. “Yeah, well. Watching you get possessed kinda does that to a girl.”
His arms tightened around me, his lips pressing a soft kiss to my hair. “I’m okay. We’re okay.”
I nodded, closing my eyes as the Impala rumbled to life.
The road stretched ahead of us, a long 17 hours back to the bunker. But for now, I let myself breathe, let myself believe that, at least for the moment, we were safe.
Objection!
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
Next Chapter
The day had finally come. I had successfully graduated Harvard Law. My Mum, Dad, brother Sonny and sisters Bella, Teresa and Gina had made the trip out of Staten Island to witness the graduation. The youngest of the Carisi clan, I choose to follow Sonny into the criminal prosecution career track. Sonny had recently transferred to the Elite Manhattan Special Victims Unit and was also studying at Fordham Law ‘to make myself a better detective’ he had said. Sonny and I, despite our 11-year age gap, were completely inseparable. He had been the one who got the rest of our family together to be here today. Sonny is the whole reason I was graduating today. He had encouraged me even after Mum and Dad had voiced their disappointment at my choice.
I had barely made it off the stage when Sonny had scooped me up in his arms and began spinning us around. He had the worlds biggest smile on his face and repeated over and over again how proud he was of me. Our parents and sisters soon joined us.
“I’m going to cook a big feast tonight just for you” Mom smiled.
“You always cook a big feast, that’s every meal for you” Dad scoffed.
“Oh shush you cranky old man” Mum swatted at him with open hands.
We all laughed at the pair and walked off to the cars. We had a long drive ahead of us back to Staten Island. After dinner I would then have to drive back into Manhattan with Sonny. I had come here with Sonny yesterday from his apartment in Manhattan and had no choice but to go back there with him tonight. Now I had graduated I had no clue what I was suppose to do. I had been applying for positions in almost every law firm in New York with no luck. I’d even applied for the DA’s office with no success. I knew Sonny would let me live with him for however long it took for me to find my feet. He had insisted on it in fact when I’d moved back to New York last month. This had been Mum and Dads complaint. I would waste my time on a piece of paper that would lead me nowhere. I’d even put in an extra two years on a masters degree just to increase my chances.
“Hay kiddo is everything okay?” Sonny spoke up “You’ve been silent for the last 45 minutes and you look worried”
“Maybe Mum and Dad were right” Was all I could get out.
“About what? Don’t tell me your doubting yourself now” Sonny smiled over at me.
“I spent the whole month applying for positions with no luck, all I’ve managed is a minimum wage bodega job. I can’t rely on you forever Sonny, you have your own life, the woman at work you said you fancy, while I just wasted six years to get a piece of paper that’s turning out to be useless. I wanted to be up there with the greats like Alexander Cabot and Rafael Barba” I sighed picking at my nails.
“Y/N Carisi always worrying” Sonny chuckled “Give it time you’ll get something soon; you don’t need to rush”
“I’m not trying to rush I just don’t like not knowing” I threw my hands up.
But wait I did. For 9 months I applied for any law jobs that came up. I worked my ass off at the bodega, saving every penny I could to get out of Sonny’s flat. Then one day it happened. I had been busy cooking dinner, a simple chicken alfredo, when Sonny basically smashed his way through the door. I hadn’t expected him home until much later. I knew they were having trouble catching the Central Park Strangler as the papers had dubbed him. A horrid man who would stalk lone women in central park, strangle and rape them. Sonny had said he was escalating an attack every night, he hadn’t killed anyone yet but Sonny was sure he would soon. He had made me promise not to leave the flat alone at night until they got the guy. He had left DNA at every scene so as soon as they got him he was going away for life. No chance of a plea bargain, no way to weasel out of it. Sonny had a huge smile on his face as he walked into the kitchen.
“I’m guessing by the smile on your face you caught your guy? That or you finally grew a pair and asked Amanda out and she said yes” I chuckled.
“Yes, well no, but yes” Sonny stumbled over his words while he hung his coat up and took his shoes off.
“Well which is it?” I laughed.
“We caught the guy, Barba had him shipped to rikers an hour ago” Sonny put his brief case on the bench and dug through it producing a manila envelope. “I also got this for you” he handed the envelope to me.
I wiped my hands off on my apron and took the envelope. I turned it over in my hands taking note of the District Attorneys office logo in the corner. I disregarded it as just being an envelope Sonny had handy. I turned the envelope over once more and unwound the string keeping it closed. Inside was a stack of paperwork maybe 30 pages thick. Written on top of the first sheet in bold letters were the words OFFER OF EMPLOYMENT. I looked up shocked at Sonny before looking back at the papers. We are pleased to offer you a position as an assistant to ADA Rafael Barba at the New York District Attorney Office.
“Oh Sonny this is amazing thank you” I pulled him into a hug.
“It was nothing I just called in a favour when I heard Barba needed some extra help” Sonny chuckled “All you need to do is fill in the forms and drop them off to Barba tomorrow. He says he’ll in his office from 3 onward”.
“I’ll fill them in first thing but for now lets eat!”.
“Oh you mean the food that’s burning on the stove?” Sonny chuckled.
“Shit!” I spun back to the stove but it was pointless the chicken had already started turning black and the pasta was almost boiled dry.
“I’ll order out and you can trying to salvage my pot and pan” Sonny laughed walking off phone in hand.
Objection! Part 11
Rafael Barba x fem!Carisi!reader
2.7k word count
Summary All you wanted was to be a lawyer like your big brother Sonny. So what happens when you get a job working under the famous ADA Rafael Barba
slow-burn, colleague to friends to lovers
Previous Chapter / Next Chapter
The first night home should have been a comfort. The familiar scent of fresh laundry in my sheets, the quiet hum of the city outside my window, the distant sound of Sonny laughing at something on the TV in the living room. It should have felt safe. It should have felt like home.
But as I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, my body refused to relax. My muscles were coiled tight, every nerve on edge, like I was bracing for something to happen. Something I couldn’t name, something I couldn’t see—but I could feel it, waiting in the darkness, just beyond my reach.
Every time I closed my eyes, I felt it all over again. Hands grabbing me from behind. An arm locking around my waist. The press of rough fabric against my face. Then nothing. Just darkness swallowing me whole, dragging me under like deep water, stealing my breath, my thoughts, my sense of time. I’d wake with a start, heart hammering in my chest, breath shallow and ragged. My sheets tangled around me like restraints. My skin damp with sweat.
It happened again. And again.
I turned onto my side, curling in on myself, forcing my eyes shut. But the second I drifted too close to sleep, I was right back there. The fear hit me like a wave, cold and sudden, leaving me gasping for air as my eyes flew open.
The first time, I told myself it was nothing. Just a bad night.
The second time, I sat up and turned on the lamp, bathing the room in soft, warm light. Maybe that would help. Maybe I just needed to see my surroundings, to remind myself I was safe.
The third time, I pulled the blankets tighter around me, trying to convince myself that exhaustion would eventually win, that sleep would come whether I wanted it to or not.
The fourth time, Sonny cracked the door open. “You okay?” His voice was quiet, careful.
“Yeah,” I lied.
He didn’t look convinced, but he nodded and let the door close again.
The fifth time, he came all the way inside. Sat on the edge of my bed, running a hand over his face. “You wanna talk about it?”
I shook my head.
He sighed. “All right. Try to get some rest.”
The sixth time, I didn’t even bother trying to sleep again. I just sat there, staring at the ceiling, listening to the steady tick of my bedside clock, the muffled city sounds outside my window. I felt like a ghost in my own body, like a piece of me was still trapped in that moment—caught between the before and the after, unable to move forward.
Then, Sonny came back. Again. This time, he didn’t ask if I was okay. He didn’t try to get me to talk. He just disappeared for a moment and came back with a pillow and a blanket.
“You’re not sleeping alone tonight,” he said simply, dropping the pillow onto the floor beside my bed. He stretched out on his back, arms resting behind his head like it was the most natural thing in the world. “If you need me, I’m right here.”
I wanted to argue. I wanted to tell him I was fine. That I didn’t need him hovering over me, treating me like I was about to break.
But the words stuck in my throat.
Instead, I let out a slow, shaky breath and turned onto my side, staring at the wall. Sonny being there didn’t erase the memories. It didn’t stop the fear from curling tight in my chest. But it was something. A small anchor keeping me tethered to the present, keeping me from drifting too far into the past.
Eventually, exhaustion won, and I fell asleep.
…
The next morning, my head was pounding, my limbs heavy as if my body had given up on trying to function properly. Sleep had come in short, restless bursts, each one stolen away by nightmares that left my heart racing and my throat dry. I felt like I had barely rested at all, but there was no time to dwell on it. There was a statement to give, and I needed to pull myself together.
A strong cup of coffee helped—not enough to erase the exhaustion clinging to my bones, but enough to give me a temporary jolt of energy. Sonny had been quiet all morning, watching me carefully, like he was waiting for me to break. His usual easygoing nature was buried beneath a thick layer of tension, his movements more deliberate, his shoulders tight. He wasn’t just my brother today. He was a cop. And he was worried.
The ride to the DA’s office was silent, the weight of everything sitting heavy between us. I kept my eyes on the city streets as they passed by, familiar yet distant, as if the world had moved on while I had been trapped in the darkness.
When we finally walked into Rafael’s office, he was already there, looking as polished as ever. Crisp suit, perfectly knotted tie, not a single wrinkle or strand of hair out of place. But the empty coffee cup on his desk told a different story. He had been here for a while. He was running on fumes, just like me.
Across from him sat a man I didn’t recognize.
He looked young, maybe around my age, though the seriousness in his expression made him seem older. Tall and athletic, dressed in a sharp but simple suit. His brunette hair was neatly styled, not a strand out of place, and his green eyes were sharp, studying me with quiet assessment as I entered the room. There was something steady about him, the kind of confidence that came from years of experience. He wasn’t intimidating, but he wasn’t exactly warm either.
Rafael stood, motioning between us. “Y/N, this is Peter Stone, the Assistant District Attorney handling the case.”
Peter stood as well, offering a polite but firm handshake. “It’s good to meet you, Y/N. I wish it were under better circumstances.”
His voice was smooth, professional, but there was a hint of something softer beneath it—understanding, maybe. He had probably dealt with enough victims to know how to handle this conversation.
I gave a small nod. “Yeah. Me too.”
Peter gestured to the chairs in front of Rafaels desk. “Take a seat.”
I swallowed hard, moving to sit down. Sonny remained standing beside me, arms crossed, his presence a silent reassurance. He wasn’t going anywhere.
Peter sat back down, his hands folded neatly on the desk. “Y/N, I know this isn’t easy. But I need you to walk me through what you remember. Anything you can tell me will help.”
I inhaled slowly, bracing myself. “I don’t remember much. Just…someone grabbing me. Then nothing. Next thing I knew, I was waking up in the hospital.”
Peter nodded, like he had expected that answer. “No memory of anything in between? No voices, sounds, flashes of anything?”
I shook my head. “No. Just…blackness.”
“All right.” He glanced at Rafael and Sonny. “I’ll need to speak with Y/N alone.”
Rafael frowned. “That’s not necessary—”
“It is,” Peter interrupted smoothly. His tone was firm but not unkind. “I need to get her statement without any outside influence, no matter how well-intentioned.” He met Rafael’s eyes for a long moment before turning to Sonny. “I understand wanting to be here for her. But this needs to be a private conversation.”
Sonny looked down at me, searching my face like he was trying to gauge whether I was okay with this.
I gave him a small nod. “It’s fine.”
His jaw tightened, but he nodded back. Rafael looked just as reluctant, but after a beat, he exhaled sharply and stood.
“We’ll be right outside,” he said, his voice low.
I nodded again, and they both stepped out of the room, the door clicking shut behind them.
Peter leaned forward slightly, his gaze focused. “Let’s start from the beginning.”
Peter studied me for a moment, his green eyes sharp but not unkind. He wasn’t treating me like a victim, at least not in the way most people had been since I woke up in the hospital. There was no pity in his gaze, just an unspoken expectation—he needed answers, and he was hoping I could give them to him.
"Let’s start from the beginning,” he said, his tone even. “You said the last thing you remember is someone grabbing you. Was that by Dominick’s car?”
I swallowed, forcing myself to think back. "I-I think so. Sonny was taking me to get a drink of water I think”
Peter nodded, jotting something down in his notebook. "And this was after the tunnels? Do you remember anything about them?"
I frowned, shaking my head. "I remember solving the clue. I remember heading into the tunnels with Nick but after that it’s all fragments”
His jaw tightened slightly, but he didn’t look surprised. “There were no cameras in the tunnels, no traffic cams in the area where you were taken. Marco knew exactly what he was doing. He planned this.”
The weight of his words settled over me, making it harder to breathe. I clenched my hands together in my lap, trying to push away the creeping panic. “But why?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. “Why would he go through all this trouble for me?”
Peter leaned back slightly. “That’s what we need to figure out. Do you know Marco?”
“No.” I shook my head firmly. “I’ve never met him. I didn’t even know his name until I woke up and Sonny told me what happened.”
Peter studied me carefully, like he was looking for any hesitation, any sign that I wasn’t being completely truthful. When he found none, he exhaled and tapped his pen against the desk. “Marco has a history with Rafael. You know that much, right?”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t explain why he targeted me.”
Peter tilted his head slightly. “Maybe not. But Rafael has a theory.”
I swallowed hard. “Which is?”
Peter hesitated, then leaned forward. “Marco doesn’t just go after people for the fun of it. He picks his targets carefully. When he hurts someone, it’s calculated. Intentional. And Rafael seems to think that Marco believes you…” He trailed off, choosing his words carefully. “…that you matter to him. That you and Rafael might be more than just colleagues. Enough that Marco saw you as leverage.”
My stomach twisted. “More than colleagues? Rafael and I? Why would he think that?”
Peter sighed. “That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”
I stared at him, my mind spinning.
“Is there anything else you remember?” Peter asked, pulling me from my thoughts. “Even something small? A smell, a sound—anything?”
I opened my mouth, then hesitated. There was something. It wasn’t a memory, not exactly, but a feeling. The rough press of fabric against my face.
“There was something over my mouth,” I said slowly, trying to piece it together. “Like cloth. It smelled… chemical. Strong.”
Peter’s expression sharpened. “Chloroform?”
I nodded. “Maybe. I don’t know for sure, but it makes sense. I barely had time to react before everything went black.”
Peter jotted something down, then looked back up at me. “I’m going to make sure he pays for what he did to you.”
His words were meant to be reassuring, but all I felt was cold.
…
Rafael’s P.O.V
I straightened in my chair as Peter folded his hands on the desk. “Tell me about Marco.”
I exhaled sharply, rubbing my temple before answering. “I didn’t know him personally before all this.”
Peter studied me carefully. “But you knew his sister.”
My throat tightened. I leaned forward, my hands clasped together on the desk. “She was one of the first victims passed across my desk,” I said, my voice quieter now. “Smart, kind, and full of life. She met a man on one of those random dating apps and he took advantage of her.” I swallowed, forcing myself to continue. “She begged for months for me to put him away, but there just wasn’t enough evidence. I didn’t want to prosecute a case I knew I couldn’t win. So I turned her away.”
Peter remained silent, his expression unreadable.
“A week later, she jumped in front of a train in the subway.” My voice was hoarse now, raw. “Her brother, Marco, came begging me to charge the man who attacked Anya with her death as well, but again, it was a case I knew I couldn’t win. So I said no.”
Peter tapped his pen against the desk, thoughtful. “And Marco never forgot that.”
“No,” I said bitterly. “And he sure as hell never forgave it.”
Peter let out a slow breath. “So in his mind, this isn’t just about revenge—it’s about justice. His kind of justice.”
I gave a hollow laugh. “If you can call it that.”
Peter flipped to another page in his notes. “Let’s talk about the search for Y/N.”
I nodded, straightening. “It started the second we knew she was missing. We didn’t waste time—Olivia pulled in every resource she could. We had officers combing the last place she was seen, talking to witnesses, checking security footage.”
Peter’s brow furrowed. “And Marco? He left clues, didn’t he?”
My jaw tightened. “Yeah. He wanted us to play his game. Left us breadcrumbs, cryptic messages—like he was toying with us.” My hands clenched briefly before I forced myself to relax. “Every clue led us deeper, twisting the search into a maze.”
Peter leaned forward. “And you found her at Coney Island.”
I nodded. “Under the pier. He buried her in a pile of rocks, hidden just out of sight. If we’d been a few hours later, she might not have made it.”
Peter’s expression darkened. “She was unconscious?”
I swallowed. “Barely breathing.” My voice wavered for a split second before I steadied it. “She’d been out there for hours. The tide was coming in.”
Peter sat back, exhaling slowly. “You spoke to a lot of people during the search.” He slid a list across the desk. “These are the ones I need to follow up with.”
I glanced at it before pushing it back. “Olivia and Sonny are already on it.”
A tense silence settled over the room before I spoke again. “There’s something else.” My voice was quieter now, careful.
Peter set his pen down, giving me his full attention. “Go on.”
My hands folded together on the desk. “Do my feelings for Y/N have to come up in court?”
Peter didn’t look surprised. “It’s relevant, Rafael. It goes to motive.”
I looked down, jaw tightening. “Does she have to know?”
Peter hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “She won’t be in the courtroom when you take the stand. But yes, it’s going to come up. I’ve already asked her she was aware that Marco took her because he thought there was something between you”
“And how did she react?” I asked tensing up.
“Honestly, she was confused as to why he would think that. If I was you Rafael I would consider being honest with her before it comes out at trail and she hears it from someone other than you”
I closed my eyes briefly before exhaling. “Do I need to tell Jack?”
Peter leaned back in his chair, considering. “It’s your call. But if I were you, I’d get ahead of it.”
…
Later that evening, I stood in Jack McCoy’s office, his hands resting on the edge of his desk. Jack regarded me with his usual measured expression, waiting.
I took a breath. “It’s about Y/N.”
Jack didn’t react. “Go on.”
“There’s a chance my feelings for her are going to come up in court.” I said bluntly.
Jack studied me carefully. “And are those feelings something I need to be concerned about?”
I shook my head. “No. I would never pursue anything with her. She’s worked too hard to get where she is. I won’t risk her career over this.”
Jack nodded slowly. “Then it’s none of my business.”
Relief washed over me, but it was fleeting. This wasn’t just about the case. It wasn’t just about my career or hers. It was about the way my heart had clenched when I saw her in that hospital bed. About the way I had cleaned her room, taking care with every little detail, as if that could undo the damage that had been done.
It was about the realization that I had been in love with her for a long time.
And that there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.
@geeksareunique @pinkladydevotee @pumpkindwight @chriskevinevans @svzwriting29
I literally took a whole University Unit on fandom, about Rice, The X-Files and Star Wars fiascos and now how some companies will take peoples fanart and use it has free advertising for the movie/TV show/game or whatever else. When I first started making fan content I would only share it with my close friends. I had a folder I carried everywhere with my physically copies of fanart and fanfics in it. I never kept any digit copies of any of it. I had 12 stories, 3 poems and 7 drawings in my folder the day my school principle destroyed all of them. A fellow student took my folder and handed it to a teacher saying I had brought 'porn' to school. It was an X-Files fanfic and the porn was my badly described take on the scene where Moulder is directed to the warehouse of human clones or human/alien hybrids I don't quite remember. My principle gave me a huge lecture about how I was infringing on copyright and that because I printed the story off at school I had opened them up to a lawsuit too. I started a new folder that I kept hidden in a hole behind my bed. It took me like 5 years to even considering sharing my work again after that and even then I use to put massive disclaimers on everything.
So I’m on AO3 and I see a lot of people who put “I do not own [insert fandom here]” before their story.
Like, I came on this site to read FAN fiction. This is a FAN fiction site. I’m fully aware that you don’t own the fandom or the characters. That’s why it’s called FAN FICTION.
Guess who just deleted the entire Masterlist for Supernatural Hunting Living and Love. Yep my tired ass clicked delete instead of edit. All I wanted to do was update the list!
Objection! Part 5
Rafael Barba x fem!Carisi!reader
2.1k word count
Summary All you wanted was to be a lawyer like your big brother Sonny. So what happens when you get a job working under the famous ADA Rafael Barba
slow-burn, colleague to friends to lovers
Previous Chapter / Next Chapter
For months the days where just as busy as that first day. Some days were filled with paperwork, some days were spent entirely at the courthouse. More and more I was working independently of Rafael only crossing paths briefly to hand off files or to discuss a case. Rafael had even organised me my own office. As much as I enjoyed the newfound freedom within the DA’s office, I was also missing being so close to Rafael. We still had a little meetings, casual lunches and nights out with the SVU team, but it became less of us and more the whole team.
Finally, a case came up that allowed me to work closely with Rafael again. What started as a runaway with no connection to SVU and turned into a possible stranger abduction had become a massive manhunt for a yet unknown person who was enjoying taunting Rafael in the form of letters with clues which to places with more clues that lead to dead ends. 2 months and hundreds of mans hours had been put into finding this person and we were still no closer. No name, no witnesses, no evidence and 7 missing teenagers. We had rearranged the entire SVU pull pen pushing all tables to the sides and filling the middle of the room with drawing boards. I was currently sat staring at the clues we had been sent. The first ever letter we received from this guy told us that we would find the missing teen just by following his clues. Yet all the clues had led to dead ends. Something wasn’t adding up, something didn’t make sense.
“Y/n we have to go update the mayor” Rafael said coming to a stop next to me.
“Yeah, yeah coming”
“You’ve been staring at these notes for ages” Rafael sliding his hands into his pockets.
“Somethings bothering me about them. I feel like we’ve missed something” I say eyes not leaving the boards in front of me.
“You’ve been working for almost 40 hours, lets update the mayor then you can go home and get some sleep.” Rafael held out a hand to help me up.
I took Rafael’s hand and stood, though my eyes lingered on the boards a second longer. The sketches, cryptic letters, and scribbled coordinates seemed to mock me, each taunt from our unknown suspect ringing louder in my mind. But he was right—I needed a clear head if I was going to see whatever was lurking in the details.
As we made our way to the mayor's office, I replayed the clues in my mind, hoping a fresh perspective or a conversation might help connect the dots. This case had turned into something personal for everyone involved, especially for Rafael, whose frustration was mounting with each letter that slipped through our fingers and led to nothing.
In the elevator, he broke the silence. “You know, we’re close. I can feel it.”
I glanced at him, seeing the exhaustion mirrored in his expression. But there was something else too—a simmering determination that made me feel as if we were on the brink of a breakthrough.
“You think he’s messing with us on purpose?” I asked, voicing a theory that had been nagging me.
“Absolutely. He’s got a plan,” Rafael said, his jaw tight. “And he wants us chasing our tails.”
The elevator doors opened to reveal the marble hall leading to the mayor’s office, but before we could step out, Rafael's phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and his face darkened.
“It’s another message.”
A chill ran down my spine as he opened the new text. Another cryptic line: "When you reach the end of the labyrinth, the prize will be in plain sight. If you just open your eyes." It was as if the perpetrator could sense our frustration, even knew that we were about to speak with the mayor.
“Another clue,” I whispered, looking over Rafael’s shoulder. But something was different this time. The tone—it wasn’t taunting. It was almost... instructional.
Rafael took a deep breath, as if steadying himself. “Looks like we’re not going home anytime soon.”
“No,” I said, a spark of determination reigniting. “But I think we’re finally starting to understand his game.”
As we turned back toward the precinct, abandoning the meeting with the mayor, my exhaustion melted into resolve. I’d follow every hint, trace every step. This time, I was determined to beat him at his own game.
…
The precinct was quiet, nearly deserted, with only the faint hum of overhead lights filling the silence. Midnight was approaching, and most of the team had taken off for a quick break. Olivia and Rafael had left to grab food for everyone, Amanda was somewhere in the break room nursing yet another coffee, and Sonny was curled up in the bunk room, catching some much-needed rest. Finn had gone out hours ago to chase down a lead.
I sat in front of the board, staring at the latest clue we’d pinned up: "When you reach the end of the labyrinth, the prize will be in plain sight. If you just open your eyes."
A familiar presence broke the silence beside me as Nick ambled over, arms crossed, eyes scanning the chaotic tangle of clues, locations, and scrawled notes we’d collected over the past two months. He’d been watching me closely for a while, occasionally throwing out theories, but mostly letting me sift through my own thoughts.
“Still chewing on that one?” he asked, tilting his head toward the new clue.
I nodded, barely looking at him. “Yeah. This one’s different. It’s… almost like he’s taunting us less, like he’s trying to lead us to something.”
Nick furrowed his brow, clearly considering it. “Or maybe he’s getting cocky, slipping up a little.”
I tapped my pen against my notebook, scanning the list of locations we’d already searched, the cryptic clues leading us from one dead-end to another. I was exhausted, but something kept gnawing at me, like an itch I couldn’t quite scratch. We’d been to all these places, followed every lead, yet somehow, I felt like I’d been staring right at the answer without seeing it.
My mind flashed back to the first letter—the one he’d sent that started this whole twisted game. "You'll find them if you look beyond the obvious."
A realization hit me, cold and electric. “Nick,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “What if we’ve been overthinking this? Maybe the answer isn’t at the end of some long, winding path—it’s been right in front of us all along.”
Nick leaned in, interest sparking in his eyes. “You think he’s hidden something we’ve overlooked?”
“Yes. Or maybe he’s been hiding in plain sight, knowing we’d miss it because we were too focused on finding something complex.” I scanned the board again, every location we’d been to flickering through my mind. Parks, subway stations, alleys, all public spaces with no clear connection other than being… central.
My eyes widened. “Nick, what if he’s been using these places to form a pattern, like a… map?”
Nick straightened, a gleam of understanding lighting his face. “So you think he’s been leading us in circles—maybe around somewhere specific?”
“Exactly.” I felt my pulse quicken. “I think he’s been taunting us by leading us right around his hiding spot, and he’s getting a thrill out of knowing we haven’t found it. But I need to check, and I can’t explain why just yet.”
I turned to Nick, urgency thickening in my voice. “Come with me. We have to go now, but don’t tell anyone. Not until we’re sure.”
He looked at me, searching my face, his jaw tightening as he weighed my request. Then, without another word, he grabbed his jacket off the back of a nearby chair. “Alright, I’m with you.”
We slipped out of the precinct, moving quickly and quietly down the stairwell and out the back exit. The chill of the night air hit me as we stepped onto the empty street, adrenaline sparking through my veins.
“You have any idea where we’re headed?” he asked as we walked.
I gave him a small smile, my confidence growing. “I do. I just hope I’m right.”
And as we headed toward our destination, a strange sense of clarity washed over me. The missing piece was within reach; I could feel it. This time, we weren’t going to let him slip through our fingers.
The streets were empty as Nick and I navigated our way through the quiet alleys, following my hunch toward one of the oldest and most forgotten parts of New York’s sewer system. With each step, the city above felt more distant, the buildings looming like silent witnesses to our descent. We slipped through an unmarked, rusted gate, making our way down a narrow, crumbling stairwell that reeked of mold and decay. Somewhere ahead of us was an answer—a clue, maybe even one of the missing teens—but right now, every instinct was screaming that this was a mistake.
“Are you sure about this?” Nick murmured as we approached a door at the end of the passage, barely visible in the dim light of my flashlight.
“Positive,” I whispered back, my voice tight with anticipation and dread. The door was dented and corroded, with a single piece of paper pinned to it. I lifted my flashlight, illuminating a simple, handwritten message: Welcome, Rafael Barba.
A shiver ran down my spine as I stared at the name, the ink bold and deliberate. “He was expecting Rafael,” I whispered, pulling the note down with a trembling hand.
Nick glanced around, his hand instinctively reaching for his gun. “Looks like he planned something special.”
I crumpled the note, stuffing it in my pocket. “We’re here now. Let’s see what he had in mind.”
I pushed the door open, and we stepped inside, the smell of damp concrete and rust thickening in the air. Before I could react, the door slammed shut behind us with a heavy clang, echoing through the tunnel as it locked into place. Nick spun around, yanking on the handle, but it didn’t budge.
“It’s locked,” he muttered, frustration flashing in his eyes.
I felt my stomach twist as an unsettling silence settled over us, thick and foreboding. And then, a crackle overhead—a faint hum of static that made my heart pound. Somewhere in the darkness, an intercom system buzzed to life, and a voice filled the room, low and edged with disappointment.
“Well, well,” the voice drawled, with an eerie calmness that sent chills down my spine. “I was expecting Rafael Barba. But instead, he sends his… assistant.” A pause, as if he were savoring the surprise. “Not what I had hoped for. But I suppose you’ll do.”
I clenched my fists, anger simmering beneath my fear. “If you wanted Barba, maybe you should’ve faced him directly, instead of hiding behind your little clues.”
The voice chuckled, a cold, amused sound. “You misunderstand, my dear. This was never about facing Barba—it was about creating something he couldn’t ignore. A labyrinth, an elaborate little puzzle designed just for him. I wanted to watch him sweat, watch him chase his own tail. Just like I had to do when I begged him to take my sisters case” He paused, his tone turning playful. “But now, it seems I’ll get to see you and your friend test your wits instead.”
Nick tightened his grip on his flashlight, his jaw clenched. “We’re not playing your game.”
“Oh, but you already are,” the voice purred. “In fact, you’re at the very heart of it.”
I scanned the room, my pulse racing. The walls were lined with passages, each one barely visible in the dim light, twisting and disappearing into darkness. The intercom crackled again, the voice practically dripping with satisfaction.
“I’ve left you a series of clues,” he continued, “if you can find them, that is. Each path you choose will lead you deeper into the labyrinth. Or… to a dead end.” He laughed softly, the sound echoing around us. “And who knows? Maybe you’ll even get out alive.”
Nick shot me a look, his expression deadly serious. “What’s the plan, then?”
I took a deep breath, steadying myself. “We play along. For now. But we stay sharp and look for a way to turn this back on him. He thinks he’s got us trapped, but that’s his first mistake.”
The intercom crackled again. “Tick-tock, Y/N. Time is running out. I’ll be watching—don’t disappoint me.”
The line went silent, leaving us in darkness, with only the soft, persistent drip of water echoing through the tunnels. I gritted my teeth, the weight of the situation sinking in. He wanted a game? We’d give him one he wouldn’t forget.
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@geeksareunique @pinkladydevotee
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.
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31 . Aussie . She/They . Demi-PanA place for my random stories.
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