I'm Having So Much Fun

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love Part 12

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

2k word count

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings none

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

That night, I found myself in Dean's bed. After finishing my bath and changing into my pajamas, I made my way down the hall to his room. He was lying sprawled out across the bed, relaxed in nothing but a black t-shirt and boxer briefs. Taking a steadying breath, I lay down beside him, feeling a little out of my element but strangely comfortable.

Dean wrapped an arm around me, his fingers absentmindedly weaving through my hair. I found myself inching closer, resting my head on his chest, my hand splayed over his stomach, feeling the slow, steady rise and fall as he breathed. Just as I started drifting off, I felt the soft rumble of his laughter under my cheek.

“This is freakin’ weird,” he murmured, half amused, half uncertain.

I yawned, my own voice drowsy. “Tell me about it.”

A silence settled over us, but it was comfortable—almost warm, even with the lingering strangeness of sharing a bed. He shifted, pulling me a little closer, and his breath brushed against my hair.

“Guess we’ll have to get used to it,” he said softly, almost to himself.

There was something in his voice, a hesitance or a quiet vulnerability that surprised me. Dean wasn’t usually the type to dwell on emotions or look too closely at things that made him uncomfortable. I wanted to ask what he meant, but his fingers resumed their soft, steady rhythm through my hair, and I found myself sinking further into the quiet safety of his embrace.

Eventually, Dean’s breathing evened out, and I realized he’d fallen asleep. I stayed awake a while longer, listening to the reassuring beat of his heart beneath my cheek.

The next morning Dean and I were up and pacing at the hatch waiting for the groceries to be delivered. Sam, Theresa and Bobby had stopped answering our calls weeks ago. Hell, I was convinced we could be dead and they probably wouldn’t come checking on us. The creaking of the hatch sent both of us running to be the first one at the hatch.

Sam stood on the other side of the hatch, arms crossed, eyebrows raised in disbelief. "You two done yet? Or do I need to leave you in there another week?"

Dean glanced at me, a mix of frustration and reluctance clear in his eyes. He’d never been good at talking about feelings, and being forced into it? That was a nightmare. I felt his hand twitch slightly, the tiniest hint of tension under his cool exterior.

“We’ve dealt with it, okay?” Dean called out, his voice taking on that half-annoyed, half-pleading tone he used when he was trying not to lose it. “Just open the damn door.”

Sam’s skeptical laugh filtered through the small space. “I’m not buying it, Dean. You’ve been dancing around this for months, man. What makes you think I’ll believe you after a couple of weeks stuck together?”

I sighed, stepping closer to the hatch. "Sam, it’s not about the time we’ve been locked up. We talked. We... figured some things out." I glanced at Dean, who gave me a small, almost imperceptible nod. "We know where we stand now."

Sam's footsteps moved closer, and his voice dropped lower, more serious. "And where’s that?"

Dean shifted uncomfortably beside me, running a hand through his hair. "We're good, alright? You can let us out now."

"Yeah?" Sam’s voice was filled with suspicion. "So, what’s the plan then? Gonna keep pretending nothing happened, or have you two finally admitted you’re crazy about each other?"

I blushed at Sam’s bluntness, but before I could respond, Dean stepped forward, his jaw tightening. "We’re done pretending, Sam. Now, can you let us out or do I have to kick this door down?"

A long pause followed. I could practically hear Sam’s wheels turning as he debated whether we were telling the truth or if this was just another one of Dean’s deflections.

Then, finally, the sound of keys rattling echoed through the hatch.

"Alright," Sam said with a sigh. "But if I find out you’re still avoiding this… next time, I’m locking you in for a year."

The hatch creaked open, and the sunlight streamed in, hitting us both like a slap to the face. Dean shot me a sideways look, one corner of his mouth twitching up into a smirk.

"See?" he muttered, nudging me lightly. "Told you we’d get out."

I smiled back, rolling my eyes but feeling the weight of everything that had just happened. Maybe we weren’t entirely done figuring things out, but one thing was for sure—we weren’t pretending anymore.

As we stepped through the door, the sudden brightness of the outdoors made me squint, but Dean’s hand in mine kept me grounded. His grip was firm—steady. For all the tension and frustration that had built up over the days, that simple touch felt like an anchor.

We looked around, expecting to see Bobby or even Theresa. But to our surprise, it was just Sam, leaning against the Impala with his arms crossed, watching us with that annoyingly knowing expression.

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “Where’s everyone else?”

Sam shrugged, pushing off from the car. "Just me here. Bobby and Theresa are waiting back at his place. Figured they’d leave me to deal with you two first.”

Dean huffed, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "Of course they did." He gave me a look, half-exasperated, half-amused, then started toward the Impala, pulling me along with him.

“You sure this isn’t some other test, Sammy? Locking us up wasn’t enough for you?” Dean teased, though his voice had a sharp edge to it.

Sam just raised an eyebrow. "Get in the car, Dean."

With a sigh, Dean let go of my hand long enough to open the passenger door for me, his fingers brushing mine again as I slid into the seat. There was a certain comfort in the familiar scent of the leather, the faint smell of gun oil and coffee that always clung to Dean’s car. It felt like slipping back into something safe, even though we both knew things between us had shifted. Maybe for the better, maybe not, but we’d figure it out.

Dean climbed in beside me, slamming the door shut with more force than necessary. Sam, of course, got in the backseat like it was his right to act all high and mighty.

As Dean started the engine, the low, familiar rumble of the Impala washed over me, sending a shiver of nostalgia down my spine. It was almost as if nothing had changed—except, this time, Dean’s hand found mine again, even as he steered the car down the gravel road.

Sam didn’t miss it. His gaze flickered to our joined hands, but he didn’t say anything. Just smirked that knowing smirk of his.

The ride to Bobby’s was quiet. I could feel the tension in Dean’s shoulders, the way he gripped the wheel a little too tightly. Maybe it was because we were driving back into reality, back to where things were messy and complicated. We’d had time in the house to confront some things, but the real world? That was another story.

After what felt like an eternity, the Impala pulled into Bobby’s driveway. The old house stood like a sentinel, the weight of all the memories, good and bad, hanging in the air. Theresa’s car was parked off to the side next to my Impala which one of them had clearly driven here, and I could already see her and Bobby waiting on the porch.

Dean cut the engine and exhaled slowly, his fingers still intertwined with mine. He glanced at me, his expression a mix of reluctance and resolve. "Ready for round two?" he asked quietly, though his voice had a teasing edge.

I smiled softly, squeezing his hand. "As long as you are."

Dean’s mouth curved into a smirk, and he leaned over, pressing a quick kiss to the top of my head before we climbed out of the car. Sam was already out, walking toward the porch where Bobby and Theresa stood waiting, arms crossed, looking like they had their own set of questions ready to go.

Whatever came next, Dean and I were in this together now. And maybe, just maybe, we could handle whatever round two had in store.

As soon as we stepped out of the Impala, Bobby and Theresa descended on us like we’d walked straight into an interrogation room.

Bobby’s gaze was sharp, arms crossed over his chest as he stood on the porch, his eyes flicking from me to Dean and back again. Theresa, standing beside him, had her hands on her hips, her expression unreadable but clearly sceptical.

“Alright,” Bobby started, his voice gruff but laced with that tone that let you know he wasn’t buying any crap. “You two better not think you’re off the hook just because you’ve been let out. Sam might’ve let you out, but I need to hear it from you.”

Dean gave me a quick side-eye before stepping forward, but before he could say anything, Theresa cut in, arms dropping to her sides as she took a step closer. “Are you really done pretending? Or is this just some act to get out of that house?”

I could feel the weight of their stares. Dean had tensed up beside me, his jaw clenched, clearly not in the mood for another round of questions, but we had to deal with this.

“We’ve worked it out,” I said, speaking up before Dean could snap back with some sarcastic comment. “We’re not just playing along. We know it probably seems like that after all this, but it’s… different now.”

Bobby narrowed his eyes, clearly not convinced. “Different how? You’ve been avoiding this for years, and now all of a sudden, a few days locked up together, and you’ve figured it all out? I ain’t buying it.”

Dean let out a long breath, rubbing the back of his neck. "We’re not saying everything’s magically perfect, Bobby. It’s not. But we’re done running from it. Done pretending like there’s nothing going on."

Theresa folded her arms, her expression softening just a bit as she tilted her head at me. “And you? Are you done pretending? Because this only works if you’re both all in.”

I felt Dean’s hand brush mine again, a small, subtle reassurance as I looked from him to Theresa. “Yeah, I’m done pretending. We both are. It wasn’t easy, but we talked. And we’re going to keep talking. We know where we stand now.”

Theresa studied us for a long moment, her eyes lingering on our joined hands. “You better,” she finally said, her voice gentler but still firm. “Because if I find out you’re back to ignoring each other, I’ll lock you both up myself. And believe me, it won’t be as nice as Sam’s version.”

“If I had my way all you would have gotten was a blanket on the floor and a pot to piss in” Bobby grunted in agreement, stepping forward with his no-nonsense look firmly in place. “You got a lot of history between you. I ain’t saying you gotta figure it all out today, but you better not go back to pretending none of this exists.”

Dean nodded, his expression softening just a bit. “We’re not going back to that. We’ll deal with it—together.”

The silence that followed was heavy, but there was a shift in the air, like Bobby and Theresa were finally starting to believe us, even if only a little.

Theresa sighed, letting her arms fall to her sides as she exchanged a look with Bobby. “Alright,” she said, her tone a little warmer now. “We’ll hold you to that. Just… don’t mess this up.”

Dean smirked, a bit of his usual confidence sneaking back in. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Bobby shook his head, but there was a flicker of approval in his eyes as he muttered, “Well, let’s hope you’re telling the truth this time, or I’ll find a way to make sure you never leave each other’s sight.”

Dean squeezed my hand, and I squeezed back, a silent acknowledgment that we were both ready for whatever came next. We weren’t done dealing with everything between us, but for the first time in a long time, we were on the same page. And that was enough—for now.

Just want to let you know i’m really loving your Objection series ☺️ so hard to find new Rafael Barba series now on here which is sad so thank you for still writing for him, i can’t wait to see how the story unfolds 🫶🏼🫶🏼

Aw thank you and your very welcome. I noticed there wasn't much Barba stuff anymore and had this idea pop into my head during one of my SVU binges. I'm hoping to have this story run over seasons 16 to 22 so we'll see Amaro leave, everything that happened with Dodds right up until Kathy with a few surprises along the way. Consider it the universe next door to the show.

Objection! Part 5

Rafael Barba x fem!Carisi!reader

2.1k word count

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

slow-burn, colleague to friends to lovers

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

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

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

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

“Yeah, yeah coming”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s another message.”

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tag List!

@geeksareunique @pinkladydevotee

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

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

Through The Dark

Edmundo 'Eddie' Diaz X Reader

4.1k word count

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

The day started like any other at the 118.

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

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

But there was something… off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something wasn't right.

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

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

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

Just silence.

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

Where are you, Y/N?

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

Now all that restraint was crumbling. Fast.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No answer.

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

Eddie's stomach twisted painfully.

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

"It’s Hen."

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

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

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

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

Buck cursed under his breath.

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

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

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

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

And he was running out of time to save her.

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

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

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

Inside, it was a whole different scene.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eddie nodded, forcing himself to breathe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He pushed open the door carefully.

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

Eddie scanned the room, every instinct on edge.

And then — something.

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

Eddie crouched, reaching for it carefully.

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

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

"Yeah," Eddie called back, voice tight.

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

Buck’s face went pale. "That’s hers."

Eddie nodded grimly. "Someone grabbed her here."

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

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

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

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

5A

Eddie stared at it, his mind racing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It looked empty — no obvious signs of a struggle.

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

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

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

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

Buck swore under his breath.

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

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

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

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

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

No one argued.

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

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

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

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

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

But Eddie shook his head, frustration boiling over.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eddie froze, blood running cold.

"5A," he whispered.

Buck frowned. "What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now it felt like acid in his mouth.

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

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

…

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

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

They didn’t knock.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At the hospital, everything happened in a blur.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that was enough.

Updates!

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

Tomorrow: Supernatural Hunting Living and Love Part 6

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

Saturday 25th: Spencer Reid x Reader fic part 1

Monday 27th: Supernatural Hunting Living and Love Part 7

Wednesday 29th: Spencer Reid x Reader fic part 2

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

Eddie: *sighs* No one will ever be truly in love with me... Buck: Are you sure? Eddie: Yeah... Buck, aggressively pointing at himself: ARE YOU REALLY FUCKING SURE ABOUT THAT?

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love (Revisited) Part 4

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

3.6k word count

Summary A break in the case happens and you question if you want to be around the Winchesters anymore.

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

Warnings mention and description of death

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

We wrapped up breakfast with my mum, and while Sam and Dean handled the dishes, I hurried the guys out the door to fetch the Impala before my mum could offer them anything else. As usual, she was all smiles and charm in front of others, and it took everything I had not to snap. Once we had our bags, we set off towards the car yard, hoping this time we'd finally get the Impala back.

The boys chatted ahead of me, oblivious to my inner turmoil. They sensed something was off but knew better than to pry. I had already made up my mind: I’d help them finish this case, then dive into the next one. I planned to start my research as soon as I had some alone time. I figured we’d wrap this case up in a couple of days, and I already had a strategy for digging into the next one.

At the car yard, Dean darted off to find the Impala. It took him far less time than it had taken Sam to retrieve the car earlier. Dean and Sam began stowing their weapons and gear in the truck. I tossed my suitcase onto the back seat and climbed in to wait. As I did, I spotted a t-shirt on the floor. Curious, I picked it up. It looked like one of Dean’s shirts. I brought it to my nose, confirming it was his. Before I could stop myself, I unzipped my bag and stuffed the shirt inside, quickly zipping it back up. The truck’s cab shielded me from view, so neither brother saw what I’d done.

I had no idea why I took Dean’s shirt. It wasn’t like having something of his would help me get over him—in fact, it might make things worse. Yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I deserved it. After everything he’d done, I felt entitled to something of his. He’d never miss it, and it was unlikely he’d even notice it was gone. No harm done, right?

The trunk slammed shut with a resounding thud, and Sam and Dean climbed into the car. We drove the 40 minutes back to the hotel. When we pulled up, I grabbed my bag and made a beeline for my Impala. I had the keys, so there was no need to go into the hotel room. Tossing my suitcase onto the driver’s seat, I slid into the driver’s side just as Dean stopped at the room door and looked at me.

“Where are you going?” Dean asked.

“Research,” I replied curtly, revving the engine and speeding out of the parking lot.

I headed straight for the library. I needed to investigate the deaths at the pool without the distraction of the Winchesters. I parked my Impala in the library lot, grabbed my research notebook, and headed inside. The library was already bustling, and I had to wait in line at the reception desk for what felt like an eternity, though it was probably closer to 20 minutes.

When it was finally my turn, I plastered on a bright smile and used my sweetest voice.

“Hi, I’d like to book a computer and access any information you have on the Blacktown pool,” I said.

“Can I ask why?” the receptionist inquired.

“I’m working on a paper about places that seem to have persistent bad luck and exploring why some places fare worse than others.”

“That’s an interesting topic. Are there any other locations you’re interested in?”

“No, just the pool, thank you.”

“Alright, here are the login details for one of our computer cubicles. I’ll have someone bring you the rest shortly.”

“Thank you,” I said, accepting the paper with a smile.

I walked to the designated cubicle, sat down, and entered the login details. A timer appeared on the screen, indicating I had one hour of computer time before I’d need to log in again.

Determined not to waste any time, I dove into researching the deaths at the pool. Knowing we were dealing with a spirit, I figured the best approach was to compile a list of everyone who had died there. A quick Google search yielded 47 names. I scribbled them all into my notebook, ready to dig deeper when a guy around my age approached with a stack of papers and books.

“I pulled everything we have on the pool and made copies of old newspaper articles for you,” he said, handing over the materials.

I thanked him for his help and returned to my task, narrowing down the list to 30 names based on the idea that the spirit would likely see itself as a burden. Given how long the hauntings had been going on, I wasn’t surprised by the lengthy list. As the computer timer ticked down, I wrapped up my research and returned the books to the desk. I drove back to the hotel in silence, taking the longest route I could manage to avoid running into the others.

When I finally pulled into the parking lot and parked next to Dean’s Impala, I saw Dean examining the side of the car intently. I grabbed my notebook and approached him. Sure enough, there was a noticeable dent on the side, just as Sam had described. The damage didn’t seem too severe—the dent could be fixed, and the scratches looked like they would polish out.

“The damage doesn’t look too bad,” I said, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, luck of the draw,” Dean replied, crossing his arms. “It’s nothing I can’t fix once we’re back at the bunker. Where have you been?”

“I was researching. I think I found our spirit. What’s the bunker?” I asked, turning to look at Dean.

“The bunker is a safe house for hunters, covered in sigils and wards, basically impenetrable by anything we hunt,” Dean explained, looking down at me. “Let’s go get Sam, and you can show us what you’ve found.”

Dean unfolded his arms and headed into the hotel room. I followed, casting one last glance at the Impala—yet another thing I felt responsible for. Inside, Dean plopped onto his bed, and Sam sat at the table, typing away on his laptop.

“Put that thing away, Sammy. Y/N here thinks she’s found our spirit,” Dean announced. Sam looked up with a raised eyebrow.

“Hey, don’t get too excited; you might pull something,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.

“What did you find?” Sam asked, clearly unimpressed by my attempt at humor.

“Well, I made a list of everyone who died at the pool and narrowed it down to those the spirit might consider a burden, which leaves us with 30 names,” I said.

“How did you decide who to include on your list?” Sam inquired, his tone almost interrogative.

“From the first death, a young girl who slipped and impaled herself on a pole, there was nothing suggesting she was a burden—no health issues, mental health problems, or family issues. I ruled her out, just like the 82-year-old who had a heart attack and the 14-year-old who broke his neck while showing off,” I explained.

“Okay, I get the point. Have you figured out which of the names on your list is our spirit?” Sam asked, clearly frustrated.

“I’d start with the first person on my list. Not just because they died first, but because the article about them quoted their mother saying, ‘Even though I am heartbroken at losing her, I also feel a sense of relief knowing that she’s no longer burdened by the health issues she had to deal with in her short life.’ Sounds like a recipe for a vengeful spirit to me,” I said, crossing my arms with a smirk.

“Sounds pretty solid to me,” Dean said, glancing at Sam.

“Well, there’s only one way to know for sure,” Sam sighed in defeat.

“Salt and burn the body. One problem, though—the family had her cremated,” Dean said.

“Then something else of hers must remain. A hair, a fingernail, something,” Sam suggested.

“So, what if we split up? You guys check the burial plot, and I’ll search the pool?” I offered.

“What did you find about her death?” Sam asked, his curiosity piqued. “Do you know how she died?”

“According to the reports, she wasn’t technically at the pool when it happened. She was walking past with her family and tried to scale the fence around the pool. At that time, the top of the fence was covered in barbed wire. She managed to reach the top before falling. The portion of the fence she climbed had a post without a cover. In her fall, she impaled herself through the stomach on the pole. She was still alive when they removed her but died on the way to the hospital from extreme trauma and blood loss,” I explained.

“Is the pole still there?” Dean asked.

“I don’t think so. From the records, it was all torn down and replaced about a year ago during a major remodel. But if we’re lucky, the old fencing materials might still be in the area,” I shrugged. “If you two check the pool for the old fencing materials, I’ll look into the burial site.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Dean said, standing up to get his keys.

My keys were already in my hand, so I quickly headed out of the room and into my car before either brother was ready. The less time I spent with them, the better. I drove out of the parking lot and headed toward the burial site, which was more of a hole in the wall than a traditional cemetery. I had my notebook open with the location of the girl’s ashes noted. I glanced at it occasionally, muttering the row and plot number aloud to make it seem like I knew exactly what I was doing. Distracted, I almost drove past the cemetery gates.

I parked as close as I could, took one last look at my notebook, and climbed out. The girl’s ashes were kept in a large, purpose-built building. Inside, everything was white marble, making the place feel cold and eerie. Every footstep echoed off the walls, the sound almost painfully loud. I walked to the back of the building where the older ashes were stored. From what I’d read, these had been kept in brick walls until the cemetery upgraded to something nicer—probably to justify higher prices for plots.

The back wasn’t as well-lit as the front, likely because fewer people visited. It didn’t take long to locate the nameplate for the girl. Each nameplate had a small window above it with an urn and personal items. From what I could see, nothing in the window seemed significant—mostly notes and pictures. Feeling frustrated, I decided it was a bust and headed back to my car.

I hoped the Winchesters were having better luck. As soon as I was back in my car, I sent a text to Dean letting him know the cemetery had yielded nothing. I locked my phone and tossed it into the passenger seat, hearing the almost immediate ping of his reply but choosing not to look. I didn’t want to return to the hotel or my mother’s place. I only had one other place to go.

I put the car in drive and sped out of the cemetery, navigating the familiar streets toward my old refuge. My haven away from my mother’s turmoil. I didn’t even have a chance to stop the car before a familiar, hyperactive face appeared, bounding out the front door. Theresa bounced around and screamed in her driveway as I parked.

“Y/N, you’re back!” Theresa squealed, tackling me in a hug.

“Theresa! I didn’t expect you to still be here. I honestly thought I’d have to ask your parents for your new address,” I smiled, hugging her back.

“Oh, this is my place now. Mum and Dad moved further out of the city,” Theresa shrugged. “Anyway, where have you been traveling? How much of the world have you seen? I want to know everything!”

“Ah, about that… how about I come inside and fill you in?” I suggested.

Theresa grabbed my hand and pulled me into her house. We settled on her couch, and for hours, I poured out my story. I told her how, instead of seeing the world, I’d taken up hunting. I recounted the monsters I’d encountered and the current case at the pool. I mentioned the Winchesters’ return and how, once the case was done, they’d be gone. I even spilled everything about Dean, breaking down over him. Theresa held me close, letting me cry. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen me like this; for years, it had just been the two of us.

After I finally pulled back, Theresa asked, “How do you know Dean isn’t just telling Sam what he wants to hear?”

“Dean’s a player. He admitted it himself. I don’t want to be the girl he strings along while he’s working cases,” I said.

“Y/N, I saw the way he looked at you last time they were here. If love at first sight had a look, that was it,” Theresa giggled.

“Taz, honestly, I don’t want to risk my heart. Like Sam said, hunters don’t get happily ever afters. Maybe it’s best if I learn to be cold now,” I sighed.

“Well, I can see I’m not going to change your mind, and I know arguing this with you is pointless,” Theresa shook her head. “Now, about this case you’re working on—have the boys found anything yet?”

“How should I know? My phone’s in the car.”

“Then go get it, woman!” Theresa squealed.

I reluctantly got up from the couch and made my way back outside. As I approached my car, I could already hear my phone ringing. With a sigh, I walked over to the passenger side. I cringed visibly when I saw the over 40 missed calls and nearly 100 messages from Dean. They were mostly frantic texts of “Where are you?” and “God dammit, woman, answer your phone.” Just as I was about to call him back, my phone rang again.

“Yes, Dean?” I answered.

“Oh, thank God!” Dean practically shouted. “Where have you been?”

“I was catching up with a friend. Did you find anything?” I asked, trying to keep the focus on the case.

“Now is not the time for social calls.”

“Did you find anything?” I repeated, ignoring Dean’s comment.

“Yeah, we found the pole. All the old fencing material has been moved to a scrapyard. I don’t think we’re getting it out of there,” Dean said. “But there are traces of blood inside it. I know we can’t be certain it’s hers, but I don’t want to take the chance that it isn’t.”

“Okay, give me a minute. I have an idea.” I pressed the phone to my chest and yelled back into the house, “HEY, TAZ!”

“That’s my name,” Theresa called back as she came jogging out.

“Is your brother’s ute still in the backyard?” I asked.

“What do you think?” She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

“Can we borrow it?”

“If we can get it to start.”

“Okay, did you hear all that, Dean?” I put the phone back to my ear.

“What’s a ute?” Dean asked.

“A truck,” I said. “Since you know a thing or two about cars, do you mind coming around to help us start it?”

“Yeah, just text me the address,” Dean sighed.

I hung up and texted Dean the address. I knew it wouldn’t take him long to get here, which bothered me a bit. I didn’t want to say anything because Theresa was clearly excited to see Sam. I sighed and sat on the steps outside Theresa’s house, waiting for them. All we needed to do was get the pole, burn the blood, and then Sam and Dean could leave. I kept reminding myself of that. I also had a small window of time to practice ignoring my feelings. After all, Dean was probably going to be the last guy I found myself crushing on. Yeah, that’s all this was—a crush. I’d get over it. What was that thing my mother always said? “You don’t love them; you lust after them. There’s a difference.” Yeah, that was it. I just needed to act like he was a friend, and eventually, that’s all he’d be—a friend.

I heard the Impala roar into the street, much like my own car would have. No wonder Theresa knew I was back before I even got in front of her house. Theresa began shaking me, squealing with excitement as the car pulled into the driveway. I stood to greet the Winchesters. Dean parked his Impala behind mine and climbed out, removing his flannel shirt as he went. He tossed it behind him, revealing his black t-shirt.

I stepped back and let Theresa take the lead. She quickly guided the boys through the house and out to the backyard. I sat back down on the front steps and waited. The sounds of Sam and Theresa’s conversation drifted through the house—Sam laughing at something she said, and Theresa’s infectious laughter in return. It seemed like Sam was enjoying himself, unlike Dean, whose presence I was trying hard to ignore.

I zoned out the sounds from inside and instead focused on the half-dead grass covering Theresa’s front yard. I began to daydream, retreating to a fantasy land I hadn’t visited since I was a teenager. I imagined a world where I had never met Dean Winchester and never fell into this life. In my fantasy, I was somewhere peaceful, far away from the complications of the real world.

Thank you @dianawinchester03 for the tag! Sorry it's taken me so long to get around to it I've been focused on finishing off a Uni assignment!

★ last song listened to. Hallelujah - Raul Esparza

★ currently watching. Law and Order SVU again also been watching a lot of The Boys on YouTube.

★ currently reading. The Fan Who Knew Too Much - Nev Fountain, The Book of Doors - Gareth Brown, The Book That Wouldn't Burn - Mark Lawrence, The Wild Colonial Boys - Frank Clune, Dead Until Dark - Charlaine Harris, and The Secret of the Study - Frank Richards. I love reading multiple books at once so that way if I get bored of one I can put it aside for a little and start something else.

★ current obsession. where I live we have Woolworths which is a grocery chain and currently they are giving out free Disney cards with every $30 that you spend. I'm obsessed with collecting them all! Currently have 43/108.

★ sweet, salty, savoury. Sweet and savoury.

★ relationship status. Engaged to my partner of 9 years.

★ favourite colour. Black, red and Purple.

★ last thing i googled. booking.com looking at hotels in Sydney where my 3 year old has to go for major heart surgery. 😭

no pressure tags. @supergaysupernatural @doctorbitchcrxft @ali-r3n @harrywavycurly @hugdealer @lokis-army-77 @manda-panda-monium-writes

♯┆nine people i'd like to know better .ᐟ ★ [ pt. 2 ] tagged by. @luvs4matt ty for the tag love

★ last song listened to. answer - tyler, the creator

★ currently watching. recently just watched dev patel's monkey man

★ currently reading. junji ito's tomie

★ current obsession. the outlast trials

★ sweet, salty, savoury. between sweet n salty

★ relationship status. delusional

★ favourite colour. still black, white & red

★ last thing i googled. c.ai lol

no pressure tags. @mattinside @mattscoquette @mattsslvtt @ovrour @mbbsgf @muwapsturniolo @soupuurr @sarosfilms (if you've done this already, you dont have to redo it)

The Dating Odyssey: Jim

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

2.7k word count

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

no one asked for this specifically but i’m in another mood so

18+

The sound of skin on skin filled the room, dimly lit by just one bedside lamp, everything cast in a tangerine flow. You were fisting the bedsheets, elbows on the mattress, bent over, hips hitched high, back arched real pretty.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Eddie praised. “Gonna fuck this bad mood right out of you, huh?” His hand pressed into the dip in your back as he kept up those slow thrust that he liked to tease you with, pushing your body down lower still, barely managing to keep yourself up. “You’re doin’ so good.”

You whined, happy at his words, happier with the attention. You were almost going slack, the pleasure too much but you knew what would happen if you let yourself fall. You’d been bratty all day, pushing buttons, toeing the line and the least you could do now was keep yourself in the position Eddie had told you to get into.

“Baby,” you cried out, pleading, needing Eddie to go faster. “C’mon, please.”

“Oh listen to her,” another voice said, breathing out a soft laugh. “All sweet and polite now, isn’t she?”

Eddie just chuckled, palming at your hips before he gave them an appreciative squeeze, sliding his cock back into you inch by inch. You could feel him throbbing, wanting nothing more than to fuck himself into you hard and fast, but he wasn’t allowed to.

Not yet.

Steve moved to the bottom of the bed, kneeling on the floor so he was level with your face. He was pouting, shirt unbuttoned with his sleeved rolled up, dress pants still on ‘cause you’d been a bitch the minute he’d gotten home from work. He cupped one side your face with a big hand, warm and calloused.

“Found your manners, have you?” He teased, all smiles now that you were speechless. His gaze roamed over your body, the way the other boy held you up and pinned you down all at once. “Is Eddie making you feel good?”

You nodded furiously, lips parting in a moan when Eddie rolled his hips, grinding against the plush of your ass. “So good,” you agreed. “Really wanna come, Steve, please.”

Steve tutted, soft and pouty and still watch you closely, loving the way your lashes would flutter shut, how he could see the way you swallowed thickly to hold back your cries. Your eyes were turning glassy, a tell tale sign.

“Think you deserve it?” He asked and Eddie slowed right back down again, keeping his cock seated inside you as Steve rubbed a thumb over your cheek, your bottom lip.

You whimpered, pouting. Steve tutted again, like he wasn’t the one in charge of what was happening. “I know, I know honey, we’re just awful, huh?”

You didn’t answer, knowing that you couldn’t agree when you’d been a downright horror to both boys after a bad day at work. It hadn’t been their faults, they just happened to be there when everything kicked off. It didn’t take long for you to be pushed onto the bed.

“It’s so good though, right?” Steve was still talking in that maddeningly soft way, tone dripping with sticky sweetness, complete adoration even when he swept his thumb over your parted lips and into your mouth. He rubbed the pad of it over your tongue and waited for you to suck. He kissed at your cheek, your nose, your jaw when you did. “Show me what that mouth does and I’ll let Eddie make you come, honey.”