Can I Be Added To The Tag List For Your Objection Series? It's So Good But I Don't Check Tumblr Often

Objection! Part 10

Rafael Barba x fem!Carisi!reader

4.7k word count

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

slow-burn, colleague to friends to lovers

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She didn’t stir.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I frowned. “Realize what?”

“That you love her.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

I blinked. “A bet?”

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

My stomach twisted. “Figured what out?”

“That you were in love with each other.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

Then, a soft whimper broke through the quiet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

Y/N's P.O.V

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They didn’t have to ask who I meant.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sonny grinned. “Oh yeah. Prepare yourself.”

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

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

…

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

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

Cannoli.

Fresh, homemade cannoli.

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

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

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

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

I groaned internally. Here we go.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I was safe. I was loved.

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

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

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

Amanda.

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

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

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

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

Chaos. Absolute, immediate chaos.

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

Sonny, standing just beside me, froze.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A moment of pure, simple joy.

And after everything, that was exactly what I needed.

…

Rafael’s P.O.V

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

"Give me your keys," I said.

Sonny frowned. "Why?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that was when the front door opened.

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

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

I swallowed, guilt washing over me.

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

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

Then, finally, she met my eyes.

"Thank you," she said softly.

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

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

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

Her brow furrowed slightly. "Why?"

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

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

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

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

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

@geeksareunique @pinkladydevotee @pumpkindwight @chriskevinevans @svzwriting29

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.

After The Fire

Evan 'Buck' Buckley X Reader

4.1k word count

Summary You and Buck are both complete done with your respective partners. Eddie is the middle man.

Authors Note: Sorry for disappearing. 2025 has been the worst year for me. I worked my own break up into this story. I wish I had a Buck to help me. Oh well enjoy!

After a long day on tour, all you wanted was to come home and lay in the bath so long you turn into the world’s largest prune. You’d been daydreaming about lavender bubbles and scalding water since lunch. You smelt strongly of smoke and sweat, and your spine had officially decided to disown you.

But the second you opened the door to your apartment, reality slapped you in the face.

The first thing that hit you was the smell—Goose’s litter box, untouched. Again. Then came the sight: dirty dishes piled so high in the sink it was a game of Jenga waiting to collapse. Laundry—your laundry—scattered across the floor like it had exploded out of the hamper. And in the middle of it all, your boyfriend, Kyle, slumped on the couch in the same hoodie he’d been wearing three days ago.

Goose waddled toward you with an indignant meow, brushing his hefty body against your legs. The poor thing looked like he’d spent the entire day plotting your murder. You gave him a quick scratch behind the ears, noting how empty his food bowl was. Again.

Before you could even say hello, Kyle piped up without taking his eyes off his phone.

“Finally. I’m starving. What took you so long? Can you make that lasagna you did last week?”

You blinked. “What?”

He sighed, as if you were the inconvenience here. “I’ve been waiting for you. There's nothing to eat. You said you’d grab groceries yesterday.”

“I said I’d be working until tonight,” you said flatly, slipping off your jacket and dropping your keys into the dish by the door. “You’ve been here all day.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, but I didn’t know what to get. Besides, you always cook it better.”

Your mouth opened, then closed. You looked around at the disaster zone of your home—the dishes, the laundry, the cat fur rolling across the floor like tumbleweeds. Goose let out another mournful cry, and you knelt to fill his bowl while Kyle continued scrolling on his phone like he hadn't just dropped a match into a puddle of gasoline.

That bath you’d been dreaming of? Gone. Replaced by the sharp heat of frustration rising in your chest.

“I’ve been working nonstop for two weeks, Kyle,” you said slowly, carefully, like your words were made of glass. “And I come home to this. Again.”

He looked up, clearly annoyed now. “You don’t have to make it a big deal. I’ve been relaxing. You always freak out over little stuff.”

You stared at him, and something inside you snapped—quietly, neatly, with the same finality as a door clicking shut.

“You need to leave.”

He blinked. “What?”

“You heard me,” you said, standing up and grabbing your bag. “I’m done. You want someone to clean up after you, feed you, do your laundry—get a maid. Or better yet, grow the hell up. I’m not your mother. And I’m not your girlfriend anymore.”

“You’re overreacting,” he said, rising from the couch, arms spread wide. “You’re seriously breaking up with me over dinner?”

“No,” you said. “I’m breaking up with you because I’m tired. Tired of being the only one trying. Tired of coming home to a boyfriend who thinks my time and energy are his to drain. Pack your stuff. Be gone before I get back.”

You slung your bag over your shoulder, gave Goose another quick pat, and walked out the door—no bath, no prune time, just clean air and the kind of peace that comes from finally choosing yourself.

…

Bucks P.O.V

Buck’s shoulders sagged as he stepped out of the elevator and into the hallway, the weight of another brutal shift hanging heavy in every bone. Smoke, sweat, and exhaustion clung to him like second skin. All he wanted was a hot shower, a cold drink, and maybe five hours of uninterrupted sleep if the universe felt like cutting him a break tonight.

He unlocked the door to his apartment and stepped inside.

The lights were on.

That was his first red flag.

The second came when he spotted her—Maya—sitting at the kitchen table with her arms crossed, a full plate of food in front of her, untouched and long since gone cold.

Crap.

“Hey,” he said cautiously, shutting the door behind him. “Didn’t know you were coming over tonight.”

“Obviously,” she snapped, icy gaze locked on him. “You’re late. Again.”

He dropped his gear bag by the door, instinctively checking to make sure he hadn’t tracked ash or soot onto the floor. “We had a three-alarm warehouse fire. I texted you.”

“Oh, right,” she said, her tone thick with sarcasm. “The firefighter excuse. Again. You always have a reason, Buck. You’re always late, always too tired, always somewhere else. You never think about me. Or us. Or our future.”

He blinked, caught off guard. “Maya, we’ve talked about this. You knew what I did when we started dating. You said you respected it. You said you understood.”

“Well maybe I thought I could handle it,” she snapped, standing now. “But I’m sick of being second place to your job. What kind of future are we supposed to have if I’m always sitting here waiting for you to show up?”

He ran a hand over his face, grit scratching under his fingers. “It’s not like I’m out at bars or cheating on you. I’m saving lives. That’s my job. It’s always been my job. And yeah, sometimes that means being late. I can’t just walk out of a burning building because you made chicken parm.”

“You always do this,” she spat, voice rising now. “Turn it around on me like I’m being unreasonable.”

“Because you are,” he said, his own frustration bubbling up now. “You’re throwing a tantrum because dinner got cold. Meanwhile, I’m out there dragging people out of collapsed buildings, Maya. I don’t get to clock out when it’s convenient.”

She stepped closer, jabbing a finger at his chest. “Then quit. Quit the job. If you cared about me, you would.”

And that was it.

Something snapped.

He took a step back, staring at her like he didn’t even recognize the woman in front of him.

“You want me to what?” he said, low and sharp. “You want me to give up the thing I’ve dedicated my whole damn life to—because your dinner got cold?”

“No,” she said, but he didn’t stop.

“I pay the rent on this apartment. I pay your bills. Your phone, your car insurance, the shopping sprees, your nails, your hair—everything. I bust my ass every day so you can live like you do, and the second I’m late, you’re ready to throw a fit like a spoiled kid who didn’t get dessert?”

“Buck—”

“No. I’m done. If this is how you act when you don’t get your way, then I don’t want to be the guy you rely on anymore. Get your stuff, Maya. I want you out.”

She stood there in stunned silence, mouth parted like she had something to say but no words to fill the space. He didn’t wait for a response. He grabbed his bag, slung it over his shoulder, and walked back out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

He didn’t know where he was going. He just knew anywhere was better than here.

…

Eddies P.O.V

Eddie fumbled with his keys, eyelids heavy and muscles aching as he finally made it to his apartment door. The shift had been brutal—hot, chaotic, and long—and for once, he didn’t have to go home and slip right into Dad mode. Chris was spending the night at his abuela’s, and that meant one very rare, very sacred thing: peace.

He stepped inside, locked the door, and headed straight to the shower. Ten minutes under scalding water worked miracles. He emerged in clean sweats, reheated some leftover enchiladas, grabbed a cold beer from the fridge, and collapsed onto the couch like a man finally free.

He picked up his fork, raised it toward his mouth—and that’s when the knock came.

He froze. Chewed air.

With a heavy sigh, he set down the fork, got up, and opened the door.

There she was—one of his best friends, still in her jacket, eyes sharp and stormy. Before he could say anything, she brushed past him and made a direct line for his fridge.

“Uh… sure, come in,” Eddie muttered, mostly to himself, as she popped open a beer like she owned the place.

He barely had time to process her arrival before another knock came. He turned, still halfway to asking her what the hell was going on and opened the door again.

Buck.

Eddie stared.

“Hey,” Buck said, looking sheepish and slightly windblown. “Mind if I—?”

Eddie stepped aside with a sigh, waving him in.

“Thanks, man.” Buck clapped his shoulder in passing, heading straight for the kitchen like this was all part of the plan.

Eddie shut the door, turned slowly, and finally followed them into the kitchen, where the two stood—backs against the counter, bags dropped nearby, bottles in hand—like they'd claimed the place as neutral territory in some unseen war.

He stared at them for a beat. “Okay. Why are you both standing in my kitchen, drinking my beer?”

They exchanged a look and, like it was rehearsed, both said at the same time:

“I broke up with my boyfriend.” “I broke up with my girlfriend.”

Eddie blinked. “Seriously?” He rubbed a hand over his face. “One at a time. You first.” He nodded at her.

She sighed, the fight draining out of her a little now that she wasn’t alone. “I walked in the door and all I wanted was a bath and five minutes to myself. Instead, he starts whining about how he’s starving and wants a big dinner. Meanwhile, the place is trashed, Goose hadn’t been fed, the litter box was disgusting—and he just sat there all day doing nothing. Again. Like I’m supposed to come home from work and play housekeeper-slash-chef for a grown man.”

Buck let out a low whistle.

She took a long swig of her beer. “I told him to pack his stuff and get out.”

Eddie nodded slowly, impressed. “Good for you. You?” He turned to look at Buck.

“She could’ve done better from the start,” Buck muttered. “That guy was a walking red flag with a superiority complex. I never liked him.”

Eddie turned to him. “That’s not what I meant, Buck.”

Buck blinked. “What?”

“I meant your breakup. Not hers. Why did you break up with your girlfriend?”

Buck shifted his weight. “Right, yeah—okay. So, I get home, she’s sitting there with this whole meal set up, cold as hell, waiting to ambush me. Starts going off about how I’m late all the time, how I don’t care about her or our future. I try to explain—again—that I can’t control fires, or emergencies, or the clock.”

He took a swig. “She starts screaming, like actual screaming, demanding I quit being a firefighter if I care about her. Like, she really said that. ‘Quit your job.’”

Eddie’s eyebrows shot up. “Seriously?”

“Dead serious. So I lost it. Told her I’m not her sugar daddy or her emotional support firefighter. I pay her bills, her shopping, her nails—everything—and I’m done. Told her to get out.”

Silence settled for a second.

Then Eddie sighed and walked past them both, grabbing a third beer from the fridge. “I was this close to a quiet night,” he muttered, holding his fingers an inch apart.

She gave him a sheepish look. “Sorry, Eddie.”

Buck raised his beer. “We brought drama, but at least we didn’t come empty-handed.”

Eddie just rolled his eyes, dropped into a chair, and motioned between them. “You two are lucky I like you. But if either of you tries to use my shower, I’m tossing you out the window.”

…

Your P.O.V

Eddie had grumbled the whole night, but he never kicked them out.

After a shared late dinner of lukewarm enchiladas and three more beers each, the three of them ended up sprawled across his living room—Buck face-first on the carpet, you curled up on one end of the couch, and Eddie passed out in the recliner with the remote still in his hand. It wasn’t comfortable. It wasn’t quiet. But it was safe. And after the emotional dumpster fire that was the night before, that was more than enough.

The next morning, after caffeine and mutual groans of “never again,” you and Buck left together, splitting off to check your own places. Both were blessedly empty. No texts. No calls. Just space.

You should’ve felt lonely.

But you didn’t. Because over the next few days… then the next week… then the one after that—Buck kept showing up.

Sometimes with coffee. Sometimes with food. Sometimes with Goose’s favorite treats. A few times with nothing but a tired face and a, “Hey, is it okay if I hang here for a bit?”

He started crashing on the couch. Then staying for dinner. Then leaving a spare toothbrush in your bathroom. Then a few shirts in your drawer. Then Goose started sleeping on his chest instead of yours.

You didn’t question it at first. You were just glad to have someone who saw you at the end of a shift, someone who talked to Goose like he was royalty and didn’t expect you to cook unless you felt like it. Buck washed dishes without being asked. He vacuumed. He once left and came back with a new litter box because, quote, “Goose deserves a throne.”

Eventually, though, you noticed the way he lingered.

He never seemed in a rush to go back to his apartment. Never mentioned it, really. He'd get quiet if you asked what he’d been up to there. And one night, when you found him still sitting in your kitchen at 1 a.m. nursing a beer, eyes glassy with the kind of tired he rarely showed, you finally pressed him.

“Buck?” you asked softly, standing in the doorway. “You good?”

He blinked, pulled back from wherever his mind had wandered. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

You stepped into the kitchen, opened the fridge more for something to do than anything else. “You’ve been here a lot.”

“I can go,” he said quickly, sitting up straighter. “I didn’t mean to—”

“No, no,” you interrupted, grabbing your own drink. “That’s not what I meant. I like having you here.”

He smiled at that—small, unsure.

“But,” you added gently, leaning on the counter across from him, “you’ve basically been living here. What’s going on, Buck?”

He hesitated. Twisted the bottle cap between his fingers. “I’m not… used to being alone. I thought I’d be fine after Maya left, you know? Like, good riddance and all that. But that apartment feels... empty. Cold. Like I walk in and the walls echo, and suddenly everything’s quiet in a way that makes my skin crawl.”

You watched him for a second, your heart softening.

Then you said, “Well… you don’t have to be alone. Not if being here helps. You can move in.”

His eyes snapped up to meet yours. “Wait—are you serious?”

You smiled. “I’ve already lost half my fridge space to your energy drinks and Goose likes you more than me. Might as well make it official.”

He laughed, that big, boyish sound that made something warm bloom in your chest.

“You sure?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I mean, we already know you’re good at cleaning and Goose has claimed your lap as property. Consider this your unofficial roommate interview. You passed.”

He looked at you like you’d just handed him something he didn’t know he needed. And maybe, in a way, you had.

“Thanks,” he said quietly. “Really.”

You clinked your drink to his. “Welcome home, Buck.”

…

The first few days felt like a weird kind of vacation.

Buck brought over the rest of his stuff in a series of chaotic trips, including (but not limited to): two duffel bags, an entire crate of protein powder, at least six fire department t-shirts you were pretty sure he stole from other people, and a worn-out hoodie you immediately claimed as yours.

Goose sat in the middle of the living room and watched the entire process like he was supervising the transition. He didn’t complain, and that was saying something—Goose hated everyone.

By the end of the week, your apartment felt... different. Lived in, but not in a messy, suffocating way like before. It was the kind of lived in where the coffee was already brewed when you woke up, and someone left a note by the door that said "Kick ass today." Buck had that rare kind of presence that made everything feel just a little lighter.

You’d always gotten along well—working together created a kind of shorthand between you—but something about having him in your space all the time cracked things open a little wider.

Like how you noticed the way he always turned toward you when you laughed. Or how he paused a movie to ask what you thought would happen next because he “likes hearing your theories.” Or how he always cooked enough for two now, even if you said you weren’t hungry.

But it wasn’t all easy.

There were the little things, too. Like the way he left his wet towel on the floor even though the hamper was right there. Or how he used all the hot water on long showers because “thinking is a full-body experience.” One night, he accidentally used your fancy shampoo and tried to play it off like he didn’t, even though he smelled like vanilla and chamomile for two days.

You bickered sometimes—snapped over dishes or laundry or who forgot to buy more coffee filters. But somehow, it always ended in laughter. Or one of you giving the other a peace offering in the form of snacks.

The shift was slow, creeping in like sunlight through curtains you forgot to close.

It was the comfort of hearing him hum off-key while making pancakes. The way he knew exactly how you liked your tea, or that you needed silence for the first thirty minutes after a shift. It was the way he looked at you sometimes—soft, unguarded, like you were a home he hadn’t known he was missing.

One night, after a long shift that had left you both emotionally wrecked, you came home and didn’t say a word. Just sank into the couch, kicked off your boots, and stared at the wall.

Buck wordlessly brought you a blanket. Sat beside you without crowding. Waited.

After a while, you leaned your head on his shoulder.

“You ever feel like the job just... hollows you out some days?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he said, quiet. “But being here? With you? It fills the rest of me back up.”

You didn’t respond. Just sat there, heart stuttering like maybe it had finally caught on to something the rest of you hadn’t.

You weren’t sure what this was—roommates, best friends, something else—but for the first time in a long time, it felt like you weren’t just surviving. You were healing.

Together.

…

The heater had gone out.

Of course it had—on the first truly cold night of the season. You were both bundled on the couch, buried under every blanket the apartment owned. Buck had even added one of his flannel shirts to Goose’s bed, who seemed personally offended by the drop in temperature and took it out on the both of you by yelling dramatically from his spot atop the radiator.

Buck was scrolling on his phone, one arm lazily draped around your shoulder. You’d spent the past hour wedged against him, and by now it felt so natural you almost forgot you weren’t alone on the couch.

Almost.

“You know,” he murmured suddenly, voice low and a little hoarse, “I’ve been thinking.”

“Dangerous,” you teased, nudging him gently with your elbow.

He didn’t laugh. Just turned his head slightly, watching you. “About us.”

That made your stomach tighten—just a bit. Not in panic. Not quite. But in anticipation.

You glanced up. “What about us?”

Buck’s eyes searched your face, like he was checking if he was about to say too much.

“I didn’t plan this,” he admitted. “Didn’t plan to move in. Didn’t plan to get... attached.”

The word landed heavy between you, but not unpleasantly. It didn’t feel like a warning. It felt like an opening.

You exhaled slowly, your hand resting where his hoodie bunched near your ribs. “But you are?”

He gave a small smile—just one side of his mouth. “Yeah. I think I was before I ever moved in.”

Your heart thumped once, hard. Then again.

The blankets shifted as you turned more toward him, the soft brush of knees and hands and something else hanging in the air like static.

“I care about you,” he said, quiet but sure. “Not just in the roommate, crash-on-your-couch, eat-your-snacks kind of way. I think you know that.”

You did. You’d felt it in every small thing—every look, every laugh, every night he found his way back to you. You just hadn’t let yourself admit it.

Until now.

“I think I’ve known it since you walked into Eddie’s kitchen with a beer like you lived there,” you murmured. “And honestly? I haven’t stopped thinking about it since.”

Buck’s hand found yours beneath the blankets, fingers curling gently.

“We can take it slow,” he said, as if reading your mind. “I just… needed you to know. I’m here. I’m all in.”

You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you leaned forward and kissed him—soft, tentative, but no less certain than anything he’d just said. His lips were warm against yours, familiar in a way that made your chest ache.

He kissed you back like he’d been waiting for it.

When you finally pulled away, you didn’t move far. Just rested your forehead against his, smiling when Goose meowed loudly from across the room.

“We’ll take it slow,” you whispered. “But you’re not getting out of paying half the rent.”

Buck grinned, pulling you closer. “Deal.”

…

They didn’t mean for Eddie to find out.

Not like this, anyway.

It started innocently enough—just the three of you catching up after a hellish double shift. The station had been chaos, the call-outs nonstop, and by the time the sun dipped below the horizon, you were all running on fumes and pure stubbornness.

So naturally, someone suggested beer and burgers. You didn’t say no. Buck didn’t either.

Now, you were all gathered around Eddie’s kitchen island, fries in one hand, beer in the other, talking over one another like usual. Goose had even come along for the ride and was currently sleeping under Eddie’s table like it was his second home.

Which, to be fair… it kind of was.

Everything was normal—until Buck did it.

You didn’t notice at first. You were mid-bite, something snarky on your tongue, when he casually reached over and brushed his fingers along your wrist. Just a light touch. A reflex.

But Eddie noticed.

Because of course he did.

He went completely still. Not a blink. Not a sound. Just slowly turned his head and looked at you both, brows raised in that signature really? expression that spoke volumes without him having to say a damn thing.

Buck froze, halfway through a sip of beer. “What?” he asked innocently, though he was definitely already blushing.

Eddie narrowed his eyes. “No. Don’t ‘what’ me.”

You swallowed your bite with a bit more force than necessary. “Okay, so—maybe something’s… happening.”

Eddie didn’t break eye contact. “Happening.”

Buck shifted in his seat. “It’s new.”

“Clearly not that new if he’s doing the wrist thing,” Eddie replied, pointing at Buck with a fry.

You looked at Buck. Buck looked at you. Then back at Eddie.

“So you’re not… mad?” you asked, cautious.

Eddie leaned back in his chair, arms crossing loosely. “Why would I be mad?”

Buck blinked. “I don’t know. Because we didn’t tell you?”

Eddie snorted. “I’m not your dad, Buck.”

“Feels like it sometimes,” Buck muttered.

Eddie just rolled his eyes and took a drink, then looked between the two of you again—this time, a little softer.

“I figured it was coming eventually,” he said. “You’ve been orbiting each other for months. Was just waiting to see who’d trip first.”

You gave Buck a sideways glance. “It was him.”

“Hey!”

Eddie laughed, for real this time. “As long as you’re good to each other, I don’t care. Just—” He paused, raising a hand. “No PDA in front of me. I already have a teenager. I don’t need you two acting like hormonal high schoolers in my living room.”

Buck held up both hands. “Noted.”

You grinned. “I make no promises.”

Eddie groaned. “God help me.”

i'm having so much fun

Heyy are your requests open?

Yep! Always happy to take requests!

Yes Barba can indeed get it. It's written law.

Been watching a lot of Law and Order SVU lately. Is it a like common knowledge in the fandom that Barba can indeed get it?

Objection! Part 3

Rafael Barba x fem!Carisi!reader

1k word count

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

slow-burn, colleague to friends to lovers

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It would be my pleasure," I smiled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sounds great to me," Rafael smiled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Counting down the seconds to Objection Part 9

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

I Want To Ruin Our Friendship

eddie munson x fem!reader

1.6k word count

summary you've been friends with Eddie since you were 5 but discovered it was the love of your life. You want more with Eddie but don't know if he feels the same. Will you ruin the friendship to find out?

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings none

Note this is my first post on here so be nice. I haven't written anything in like 7 years so I'm pretty shitty. Unedited work ahead, written in one sitting if you don't like it then bite me. If you want more let me know and I'll keep going!

Part 2!

...

We had become fast friends, Eddie and I. He was the first kid my age I had seen when my mother had moved us to the tiny speck on the map that was Hawkins. I was  5 years old, and my parents had just divorced. My mother had decided that a move would be the best thing for us both. ‘A fresh start with new faces and opportunities,’ she said. Not that I cared at 5. All she could find was a caravan at the local caravan park. That is where I met Eddie. He lived in the caravan next to mine. He had burst out of his front door and leapt over the steps in pure excitement when he saw me.

“Edward Munson” He smiled, holding out his hand

“y/n y/l/n,” I smiled back

The rest, as they say, was history. Eddie and I joined at the hip from that day on. Even when, much to both our disappointment, my mother had purchased a lovely house in town just after my 12th birthday. Eddie teased me relentlessly for weeks, faining hurt over how I was ‘leaving the lowly peasants to live in your castle clad with luxury.’ Always the drama queen. We still saw each other at school during the week, and I would often bike to his trailer on the weekend, or he would come to my place so we could play D&D with our other friends. Then my teenage years hit, and something changed. It started just after my 14th birthday. I started viewing Eddie differently. He was still my best friend, but suddenly, even the slightest glimpse of him sent butterflies flying in my stomach. I had brought this up with my mother, careful not to let slip that it was Eddie that I was talking about. “Oh, your first crush, how cute,” my mother had squealed. A crush? On Eddie? I couldn’t believe it. It wasn’t possible. I wasn’t supposed to crush on my best friend, yet here I was 6 years on, still stuck on the same guy. Eddie freaking Munson. My mum had said I would get over my crush soon enough and be on to the next cute guy at school, but the days turned to weeks, the weeks to months and the months to years, and I was still stuck on Eddie. Every fibre of my being knew Eddie was my soulmate, but Eddie was a loose cannon. I knew he wouldn’t be able to settle for one chick. I tried dating other guys but didn’t feel anything for them. It got to the point where Eddie started keeping track of who I was with just to mock me with them later.

Gave my virginity to Steve Harrington and broke up a month later.

Had a short-lived relationship with Gareth.

Spent one night with Billy Hargrove, Hawkins’s resident bad boy.

Jason, Jonathan, Argyle, the list goes on. After yet another boring shift with Steve and Robin at Family Video, I came home to an empty house and a note from my mum on the fridge. Gone on a girl’s weekend with Joyce, left money in my room, enjoy! I wanted so bad to call Eddie and ask him to spend the weekend, but I convinced myself to call Robin instead.

“Hello, Buckley residence”, Robin answered

“Hay Robin, want to spend the weekend at my place? My mum went on some weekend away with Joyce” I cringed as I realised I had rambled a bit

“Hay y/n, I would love to, but I already made plans with Steve. Apparently, his dweeb friends want to break into Hawkins lab for some stupid reason.”

“Probably trying to play Ghostbusters again”, I chuckled

“No doubt, Steve wants to ensure they are safe.”

“Aw, is poor Mummy Steve panicked about his little babies.” I burst out laughing

“I will tell Steve you said that” Robin laughed along. “Why don’t you ask Eddie to stay with you?” Robin asked once we had calmed down

“Eddie has been seeing someone random chick and hasn’t really had time for me, you know?” I sighed

“Not from what Nancy said”

“What did Nancy say?” My stomach did a summer sault

“Nancy was dropping Mike at Max’s and saw Eddie tossing a chick and her stuff out of his trailer. Apparently, he looked pretty pissed.”

“Still, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Come on, y/n, if this is to do with you crushing on Eddie, then you need to suck it up and tell the man already.”

“I’m tired. I think I’m going to go change and go to bed, okay” I said quickly, changing the topic

“Whatever, but you can’t get all butt hurt when he moves on to the next girl”, Robin blurted out before I hung up the phone.

Sighing, I dragged myself up the stairs and to my room. I pulled off my work uniform, tossing it into the corner before retrieving an oversized Van Halen shirt and shorts from the cupboard. I then sat staring at my phone, thinking about everything Robin said. Before I could stop myself, I had my phone in hand, and Eddie’s number was dialled. I panicked when Eddie answered.

“Hello,” Eddie said, clearly frustrated

“Hay Eddie, sorry your clearly busy I’ll just let you be”, I mumbled out, going to hang up

“No, y/n, wait, it’s good to hear your voice” I could hear the smile in his voice. “I was starting to think you have forgotten all about me, the lowly peasant in his humble trailer.”

“Well, I have not, lowly peasant. I was actually calling to summon thee to my castle of luxury for the weekend if you wanted to; that is,” I giggled

“Wait, really? But what about your mum?” Eddie asked shocked

“She went for the weekend, and you know I hate being alone.”

“Say no more, sweetheart, for your knight in shining armour is on his way in his noble steed once I find the keys.” I could help but giggle more

“See you when you get here” I smiled

As soon as the phone hung up, I immediately became bored and panicked. I was going to spend the weekend here with Eddie. Multiple scenarios started to play through my head. What if he hadn’t broken up with his girlfriend, and she found out he stayed here? What if I let it slip that I like him more than a friend should, and he doesn’t feel the same way? Would it ruin our friendship? Rather than continue to panic, I opted to grab my guitar and work on a new song hoping it would keep me distracted until Eddie got here.

Eddie, darling, you’re my best friend,

But there are a few things that you don’t know of,

Why I borrow your jacket so often,

I’m using your shirt as a pillowcase

I wanna ruin our friendship,

We should be lovers instead,

I don’t know how to say this,

‘cause your really my dearest friend

A knock at the front door pulled me out of my thoughts. I dropped my guitar on my bed and dashed down the stairs. I tore open the front door and tossed myself at Eddie. He chuckled, catching me in his arms with ease.

“Missed me?” Eddie chuckled

“I have; it’s like you barely have any time for me since you started seeing what’s her face.” I scrunch my face up at the thought

“Oh yeah, well, Chrissy and I are over” Eddie took a step back

“Sorry to hear; want to tell me about it?” I asked, seeing Eddie was clearly hurt by it

“She wanted me to choose her or you, so I chose you” Eddie smiled

“Why me?” my voice caught in my throat

“Because any girl that can’t accept my best friend isn’t worth my time.”

My heart audibly broke. I’m unsure what I expected to hear, but it certainly wasn’t that. I told Eddie to put his stuff in my room while I ordered a Pizza for us for dinner. Eddie made some crack on his way to the stairs about us needing to pick a horror movie because it would make the Pizza taste better. I placed the Pizza order and went to pick a movie since Eddie was taking his sweet time. It was between A Nightmare on Elm Street and Friday the 13th. I took both movie choices and walked up the stairs to my room, looking for Eddie.

“Okay, so we have 2 choices here Friday the 13th or….” I looked up to Eddie

He sat on my bed, holding my book in his hands, reading over my lyrics. I froze, dropping both tapes. He raised his head to look at me, a look of confusion spread across his face. He glanced back to the page and back to me. I dropped my head in shame; I knew our friendship was ruined.

“Ed, I’m sorry”, I whispered

I turned and ran from the room. I ran out the front door heading for the only safe place I knew.

Supernatural Hunting Living and Love Part 7

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

2.5k word count

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings mentions of blood

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I slept for ages. If I went off the alarm clock next to my bed, I had slept for well over 24 hours.  I probably would have slept longer but the sound of my sliding door opening followed by Deans voice woke me right up.

“What do you have there Sammy?” Dean asked.

“Y/N hasn’t eaten in 2 days, so I was just bringing her something” Sam said from directly outside the door. My stomach growled at the thought of food. It was true I hadn’t eaten anything since Theresa’s house.

“Oh, so your best buddies now?” Dean asked.

“What is your problem?” Sam sounded like he was getting angry with his older brother.

“Nothing it’s just interesting that the girl you had a huge problem with your suddenly being super nice to”.

“Yeah, well you love her Dean and I’m not going to change your mind on that, so I figured it’s better I just accept it then keep this stupid fight going” Sam sighed.

“Turns out it was just a phase” I could hear Deans smirk in his voice.

“Dean? Are you…”

“Sam seriously guess I was just thinkin’ to much with my downstairs brain” Dean laughed.

“Your sure?” Sam asked voice laced with uncertainty.

“Yes, I’m sure”

My heart broke with each word Dean spoke. If he truly felt that way, then why was he still hear looking after me? Why hadn’t they just left when they dropped me here? I heard Sam opening the door again, so I closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep. I heard Sam approach and the mattress beside me sink as he sat on the edge of the bed. Sam placed a hand on my shoulder and began to softly shake me. I groaned and pulled the covers over my head, pretending to have been woken up.

“Sorry you’ve been asleep for ages, and you need to eat something” Sam chuckled holding out the food.

“Thanks Sam” I tried to sit up, failing miserably “Uh a little help” I giggled nervously.

Sam chuckled before placing the food on my bedside table. He slipped an arm around my waist and hoisted me into a sitting position. He tucked two pillows from my bed behind my back to keep me comfortable. I grabbed the food from the bedside table and began tucking in. It was anything special literally tomato soup from a can with a couple of toasted cheese sandwiches. But still I dug into it like it was the last meal I would ever eat. Sam chuckled and shook his head.

“Okay well I’m going to head out for a little while”.

“Going to see Theresa?” I gave a cheeky smile.

“Uh yeah” Sam smiled rubbing the back of his neck.

I waved my hand at the door dismissing him. Sam just chuckled and put his hands up walking out the door. I sat in silence eating my soup and watching the door half wanting Dean to come in and half wanting him to stay away. Once I had finished eating, I placed the tray with bowl and plate back on the bedside table. It was in that moment that I realised I desperately needed to go to the toilet. Not wanting to call Dean in I tried to sit myself on the side of the bed. It took a lot of strength to lift myself on one hand given that even the smallest amount of pressure on my arm pulled the stitches that lined it causing me to grit my teeth in pain. By the time I have myself seated on the edge of the bed fresh blood had begun to bleed through the once white bandage that circled it. I forced myself to stand wobbling on the thick cast around my foot and ankle. Luckly the cast stopped before my knee making it slightly easier to walk. With the assistance of the bedside table and the wardrobe that lined the wall between the bed and the bathroom door I was able to hobble my way to the bathroom. I didn’t even think when I finished on the toilet, I flushed and wobbled over to the sink to wash my non-cast covered hand. The whole time I could hear Dean banging on the door and jiggling the handle asking to be let in. I sighed, looked at myself in the mirror and flicked the lock on the door allowing him to come in.

“What do you think your doing?” Dean looked furious.

“I’m going to the toilet” I motioned to the toilet.

“You should have asked for help” Dean moved to grab my arm.

“I’m not helpless Dean, I can get from my bed to my bathroom” I emphasized my. Dean looked down rubbing his forehead. He went to speak but let out a small gasp instead.

“You’ve busted your stitches” Dean gently grabbed my arm.

“I’ll live” I pulled my arm away. I made my way back to my bed while Dean stormed back out into the kitchen cursing under his breath. I got back into my bed without any trouble. I was sat on the edge of the bed deciding what to do when Dean came back, first aid kit in hand.

“Let me see your arm” Dean grumbled.

“What are you going to do? Play doctor?” I smirked at him.

“I know a little something about stitching wounds” Dean smiled at me “So will you let me see your arm please?”

I held my arm out to him. He sat beside me and slowly began up wrapping it being care not to pull on the sensitive wound below. Once my arm was completely unwrapped Dean laid it across his lap. He opened the first aid kid which I recognised as the one from the boot of the Impala. He pulled out a bottle of rubbing alcohol, a needle and sutures. He poured a small amount of the rubbing alcohol over the wound. He pulled out the torn stitches and sewed in the new stitches. I could see the look on Deans face, it was a face I had seen multiple times.

“I know that look” I looked over to a photo on my tv unit.

“What look?” Dean looked up at me briefly.

“Look at the freak” I looked back to Dean “It’s okay I’m use to it, hell the girls at school use to cut me just to see how quickly the cuts would heal” I shrugged.

“I’m sorry” Dean never took his eyes off my arm.

“Knowing what you know, would you say I could be one of the things we hunt?”

“Knowing what I know? Not a chance. Could you be some sort of medical anomaly? Definitely” Dean smiled.

“Oh, anomaly big word for you Winchester” I laughed at him.

Dean finished restitching my arm. He took a new bandage from the first aid kit and wrapped my arm up again.

“There all better” Dean smiled at me. “Now can I help you with anything or are you going to stay in bed”.

“Can you help me over to the computer?” I motioned to the computer in the corner. Dean scooped me up in his arms causing me to squeal. I wrapped my arms around his neck to keep myself from falling. Dean just chuckled and walked over to the computer desk. He placed me on the computer chair and swung me around to face the computer.

“So, what are you going to do?” Dean leaning on the desk next to me.

“I’m stuck here your not so I figured I’ll send you to a couple other cases in the area” I booted up the computer and logged in. I explained to Dean that I had started keeping an online journal that only I could access. Having it online made it easier to keep cases sorted and anything I learnt along the way a key stroke away. A lot easier then that paper journal they carried around. I pulled up a case from just over an hour away. Easy to drive there and back in a day, Vamp nest. I had it lined up as a quick clear out on my way to the big vamps nest up north.  Dean seemed impressed, he smirked at me and said something about hitting the road. He left the room with a final warning for me to take it easy. I heard the jingle of keys and the sound of the external sliding door. I turned back to the computer and started looked for other cases to keep Dean busy and out of my house.

And so, the next 2 weeks went by like this, me presenting Dean with a new case the second he was in the door, Sam going back and forth between helping Dean and spending time with Theresa. I just wanted to get back on my feet and away from the Winchesters. Sam and Dean would often talk at night as they were getting ready for bed in the lounge room. More of the same, Dean was sure he had no feelings for me, Sam was sure he was lying. Sam spoke of the spark he had with Theresa and how he was thinking about asking her to return to the US with them. Dean had now taken Sams position and was insistent it was a bad idea. There were times where Dean was around, and I would see him looking at me. He had this look, it was as if he was hurt over what happened, as if he was blaming himself. He was at fault in one way, but he wasn’t completely in the wrong. I had chosen to go back to the pool, I knew I was getting myself into trouble, but I did it anyway it wasn’t all his fault. If the boys weren’t here, I probably still would have gone back to the pool.

When the day finally came around for me to go back to the hospital to see how things were healing, I was nervous. Part of me hoped everything was healed so they boys could just leave but at the same time I hoped I had a little longer left to heal so I could keep the boys around for a little longer. As the days dragged, I felt myself fighting between wanting them to go and wanting to plead with them to take me with them. Something felt right with them, felt right with Dean. Dean pulled us up in front of the hospital and went to get a wheelchair. Sam had come with us for whatever reason. He stood by my open door and told me all about the things he done with Theresa. He had been taking the opportunity to live a normal life, he had taken her to the movies, they’d played at the arcade, everything a normal couple would do. I was happy for him. Dean came back with a wheelchair and insisted on lifting me from the car to the wheelchair. He then pushed me into the hospital while his brother followed behind. I directed him to the outpatient care clinic. We checked in with the receptionist and took a seat in the waiting room. We didn’t have to wait long at all. A doctor came and had a nurse roll me away to x-ray. He made the boys waiting for me in the waiting room. Once the x-rays where taken, the nurse rolled me back into the waiting room and told me that the doctor would be back with me shortly.

It took the doctor 45 minutes to get back to me. Dean rolled me into the doctor’s office taking a seat beside me while Sam went and stood in the corner. The doctor glanced between the two brothers before looking at me.

“Well I don’t know what to tell you but if I had to quess I would say your injuries where not as bad as the ER doctor and surgeon first thought” The doctor turned on his chair to face me.

“What makes you say that?” Sam jumped in before anyone could say anything else.

“The x-rays show that the ankle and wrist fractures are well on their way to healing something I wouldn’t expect to see if they were in fact fractured as bad as the original x-rays show” The doctor looked to Sam. Sam shot a concerned look at Dean. I knew exactly what he was thinking.

“So what does that mean for me?”

“I’d say in 4 weeks we could look at taking both casts off, of course I would want to do another x-ray first”.

“Wow that’s great news” I smiled.

“For now I would like to check your stitches then you can be on your way”

I nodded and held my arm out to the doctor. He slowly set about unwrapping my arm. When the bandage was completely off he pulled back the gauze. A surprised gasp left his lips and his eyes went wide.

“I, uh, I can take the stitches out if you want the cut looks almost completely healed so I don’t think you need to keep them in” The doctor tried to cover his surprise. I nodded and the doctor went around collecting what he needed to remove the stitches. Sam excused himself from the room. I looked over at Dean knowing exactly what Sam was thinking in that moment. Dean said he would go talk to him and left too leaving me with the doctor who had returned and started removing stitches from my arm.

…

I followed Sam out of the hospital back to the car where I found him rummaging through the boot. He stood up and looked at me holding Dads Journal.

“Sam it’s not what you think” I said walking over and taking the Journal.

“Then what Dean, we both know she shouldn’t have healed that quickly” Sam pointed a finger back at the hospital.

“If I tell you, you cannot tell her”.

“Tell me what? What do you know?” Sam crossed his arms across his chest.

“She’s part Angel Sammy”.

“Part Angel?” Sam chuckled and looked away from me.

“I’m serious”.

“Do you have any idea how crazy you sound…”.

…

“Do you have any idea how crazy you sound…” Sam spotted me and stopped talking. He nodded at me and moved to climb into the Impala.

“What’s his problem?” I asked hobbling up beside Dean on a crutch I was now able to use.

“Just freaked out by your fast healing is all” Dean smiled at me.

“You told him I’m not anything you hunt?” I asked.

“Yeah, not sure he believes me thought but he’ll get over it” Dean open the door and climbed into the Impala. I opened the backdoor of the Impala and slid in tossing the crutch on the floor. At least I didn’t have to wait to much longer to be rid of the Winchesters.