#I’ll have to be on-call as a firefighter too; but that’s different

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Maybe I could switch careers and train to become a firefighter after… five years to a decade in education?

[bluesidez]

Firefighter!Miguel Part 2

content warning: the urge to use AAVE was slipping through the nerves of my fingers. I tried to hold off, so if you see something that looks grammatically different, then it’s probably AAVE that I couldn’t NOT add. this is all fluff too! there are also mentions of food, but that's a norm for these drabbles

word count: 2.2k, proofread! (I think there's no mistakes 😭)

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“Eileen! Is that you?!”

You internally groaned as your grandma hopped out of the motorized shopping cart to greet yet another person.

The trip to the grocery store to buy ingredients turned into a meet & greet with the star being your grandmother knowing everyone in the town.

You felt loopy, going from almost burning down your house to contemplating whether or not the hot fire captain would prefer yams or potato salad. Maybe both?

You grumbled to yourself as you scanned the aisle for a specific brand of cookies for some banana pudding. If all else fails, this was a dessert you could make with no oven.

“And now we’re here, trying to find this child something to cook with,” you heard your grandma fuss out. Why did your business have to be the topic of the conversation?

You turned and walked the short distance to your grandma and another woman who was….her old coworker? Her church member? Or maybe they went to school together….

“Good morning Ms. Eileen,” you say, thankful that you caught her name. You couldn’t keep up with everyone like your grandma.

“Is this the baby?!” she says, shocked eyes going from you to your grandma and back to you.

Your grandma nodded, a smile growing on her face.

“Child, I haven’t seen you since you were this little!” she says, holding her hand about 2 feet off the ground. She turns back to your grandma, “This can’t be the baby!”

You stand there with your lips in a line as you wait for the realization that at least two decades have gone by since you’ve last seen her.

Or more like since she’s seen you. You’re still trying to gather who she is.

“Yeah, this is my grandchild! All grown up and now we’re trying to win over a husband,” your grandma says, shaking your arm.

You wanted a hole to swallow you up or possibly grow some wings so that you could take flight. Anything to get out of this conversation.

“A husband?!” Ms. Eileen smiles mischievously. “Who are you trying to marry?”

“Uh-”

“Honey, this child got the Fire Chief ringing my doorbell!”

“He’s actually the Fire Captain-” you mumble, trying to get your two cents in

Ms. Eileen holds your hands and starts doing an excited bounce as she vocalizes her excitement.

“I need to get right then if we’re fixin’ to have a wedding!” she said, gesturing to her hair as if to fix it.

“It’ll be soon! Just wait and see!” your grandma says, putting her hands back on the handlebars of the car. “Let us go on and buy the rest of this stuff. We’ve got a lot to do. It was good to talk with you!”

Your grandma starts to move forward, somewhat ignoring Ms. Eileen as she started to open her mouth again.

“Leave me some of that food ok?” she calls out.

“If there’s any left, I’ll let you know!” your grandma says as she turns down the aisle.

You chase after her, waving to Ms. Eileen as you leave.

“Who was she again?” you ask as you two go down a new aisle.

“Eileen Wilkins from the school.” So she was a coworker! “She still doesn’t know how to stop talking, though.”

Your laugh sneaks out of you as you watch your grandma stop at some seasonings.

“Why do you say that? You were keeping the conversation up.”

“I was just being nice! It was fine until she started bragging about that granddaughter of hers. That girl doesn’t know her left from her right. How she make it to nursing school?”

“Maybe she’s a hard worker!” you respond.

Your grandma snorts, “Yeah. Working hard at paying somebody else to do her work.”

You just shake your head at your grandma. What are you going to do with this woman?

“Will you call the number already?”

“I don’t really want to do that,” you say, tapping your foot against the ground.

This would be the fourth station within the area that you called with no record of a "Captain O'Hara." You were starting to believe that you and your grandma made him up. Just a small figment of both of your imaginations. What your grandma saw as a suitor and what you saw as a hot guy just trying to do his job.

"You need to want to call," your grandma, responds. "We didn't get all of this food made for nothing. And you're wearing my good necklace! He won't know what hit him when sees you."

You both decided on soul food. Tin pans full of food for the entire crew from greens to mac to fried catfish. Then, there was a hefty styrofoam takeout plate made especially for him. Your banana pudding for him in a tupperware container with Nilla wafers patterned along the side.

Not to mention, you spent an unhealthy amount of time deciding which scent you should wear.

You looked infinitely better than you did when he last saw you with ingredients dusting your front and smoke coming out of your windows.

Still, it would all be for nothing if you couldn’t find his station.

While yon were staring off, your grandma tapped your phone, impatience riddling her frame.

“Grandma!” you shout, holding your phone as if it were a game of hot potato.

“Just ask if he’s there!” your grandma says.

“That’s not how this works-”

“Station 29, this is Captain O’Hara speaking.”

“Hi! Hello,” you turn back to the phone in a rush, embarrassed that he might have heard you and your grandma. You introduce yourself properly this time, saying that you wanted to bring some dinner down to the crew.

You hear a noise of shock as he starts to speak again, “That would be amazing actually. The crew was just trying to decide what to eat. When can we expect you?”

“I’ll be there in 10 minutes,” you say, a little too quickly to be honest.

“Perfect. We’ll see you then!”

You end the call and look up to your grandma who’s staring at you with a small smile.

“Now you tell him to bring back my good tupperware,” she says, instantly switching back to her regular self.

You just shake your head. Grandmas will be grandmas.

“I’m just trying to get you a good man!” she fussed. “And that’s my good tupperware. He’ll hear from me until I get it back.”

“And who were you just on the phone with? You’re smiling real hard there.”

“Shut up Parker,” Miguel fired back. “And why are you even in here. Aren’t you supposed to be washing T29 right now?”

“I finished that an hour ago, thank you very much. You’re so touchy!”

Miguel got up and shuffled Peter out of his office, “I’m not touchy. You’re just irritating me like usual.”

“Oh my god? You do have someone you’re talking to,” Peter says as he digs his feet into the ground, stopping Miguel. “How come you didn’t tell me? Is it that lady with the tree-loving cat? No! It’s the guy whose dog keeps getting stuck in the wall! There’s a theme here.”

“No, I’m not- Will you move? I’m not dating anyone with daredevil pets,” Miguel responded, trying to push Peter in a new spot.

“Cap is dating?” Ben asks as he walks by the two bickering like cats. “When can we see them?”

“I’m not dating-”

“Miguel! You didn’t tell me anything,” Jess says as she comes down the hallway.

“Why won’t you ever address me as Captain?”

“I will if you tell me who you’re dating,” she says with a smile on her face.

“I’m going to lose my mind,” Miguel mumbles, letting Peter fall to the ground instead of fighting him.

“Well if you weren’t talking to your lover, who was that?” he asks from the ground, the wind knocked out of him.

“While you all were slacking, I was making sure that everyone goes home with a full stomach. Remember the kitchen fire from earlier this week? They’re bringing some food for us.”

“Will it be safe to eat?” Ben says, eyes flittering to Jess nervously.

“It was a broken gas line, you idiot,” Jess says with her mouth turned sideways. “At least wait until the food is here before you judge it.”

“No way,” Peter says from the ground. “You put them in your lap and now they’re bringing you food.”

Miguel lightly kicks Peter in the thigh, making him scream out a scale of keys.

“That face gets so many people,” Jess sighs annoyingly.

Firefighter!Miguel who jogs out to the car when you arrive. No, he wasn’t watching the clock or his cameras. He just happened to see some movement in one of the security cameras.

He opens the door for you, helping you out of the car.

It’s like you’re a totally different person from the frantic little baker from earlier.

“Can you help me get the plates out of the trunk?” you say, voice barely reaching his ears with how soft you’re speaking.

“Of course,” he replies.

He manages to carry all four hot tins of food, leaving you with just two plastic bags to carry.

Firefighter!Miguel who places the tins on the table with ease.

“Is there anything else?” Peter asks, walking up to his side.

“No, I think this was all of the tins,” Miguel replied with his hands on his hips.

“Show off,” Peter whispers with a smile on his face. He patted his shoulder and walked towards the entrance.

Miguel blushed, realizing how that might have read to you.

Firefighter!Miguel whose eyebrows raise as you hold him back from getting in line, a plastic bag aimed towards him.

“I made you a separate plate. You were especially kind to me and I wanted to show my appreciation,” you say with a smile on your face.

“Thank you,” he says, taking the bag. “Should I give you the verdict?”

Your heart beats faster, watching his pretty face light up. You nod your head, hopeful that he’ll love the food.

Firefighter!Miguel who has you sit next to him at the table. The crew is quiet for once. Nothing but smacks and the shuffling of cups could be heard.

“Don’t be rude, guys. Say thanks,” Miguel chides at his crew.

At the sound of his voice, everyone starts thanking you profusely.

Miguel starts to open his bag and you feel like you could break out in a sweat.

You watch as he opens the plate and his eyes go big.

“Hey, how come he gets the extra stuff?” Ben whines from the end of the table.

Jess elbows him to shut him up, eyes throwing daggers.

You may or may not have added some fried chicken and potato salad to his plate.

You wait anxiously as he takes a bite.

Is it weird that you counted the seconds as he chewed?

“Damn, that’s good,” he says, leaning back in his chair.

If everyone could hear your thoughts, they’d truly be terrified at the screams going on right now.

“You like it?” you ask, biting your lip.

“This might be the best food I’ve had in a while,” he replies back. “Thank you!”

Your smile grows, watching as he tears away at his food. His laser focus doesn’t stop him from smacking Peter’s hand away from his banana pudding.

Firefighter!Miguel who walks you back to the car. Everyone was chatting and laughing at the table. The after-food glow on all of their faces.

“Everything was really delicious. Thank you for this. You didn’t have to,” he says as he opens your door.

“Stop, I really wanted to thank you guys. You all are the true heroes. Oh! And my grandma would really appreciate it if you brought her container back.”

Miguel chuckles, giving you that pretty smile of his. He looked so pretty that way. The black shirt he was sporting was hugging him just right too.

“Of course,” he responded. “We still have to check out your kitchen too, yeah?”

You nod, shocked that he remembered.

“Tell you what, I’ll give you my number and we can work that out tomorrow.”

He hands you a card, writing down what you assume is his personal number. As he hands the card to you, your heart picks up as his fingers graze yours.

“I’ll see you then,” he says, waiting for you to get in your car before he closes it. He taps the hood and walks backwards, watching as you back out of the driveway.

You give him a little wave and squeal to yourself when gives a hearty one back.

Firefighter!Miguel who is hounded by his crew when he gets back inside.

Some of them are making kissy faces and the others are patting his back in encouragement.

“Would you all get back to work?” he sighed, annoyed at all of the attention.

He moved fast to his office, face in flames.

Firefighter!Miguel who groans out when he scoops some banana pudding in his mouth.

You were good. Really good.

He makes an angry face as he takes another bite, “My god.”

“Oo, they got you real good,” Jess snickers as she steals a bite of his dessert.

“Hey!” he said, moving too late to stop her.

She laughs as she runs from his office. Miguel gets up and locks the door, making sure that no one else could steal his food.

It was specifically made for him, after all.

divider by: @dollywons + @starzyyy1 ❤️‍🔥

a/n: Special thanks to @slushycoookie for giving me ideas! It was brilliant and much needed ☺️

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taglist: @snails-doodles22 @xerorizz @questionable-behaviour @babygotl01292003

[highvern]

Burnt Coffee

Pairing: Kwon Soonyoung x gn! Reader

Genre: fluff

Summary: Running a cafe hadn’t been as glamorous as you initially believed. You loved your job; the cozy aroma of the different roasts, the hum of the espresso machine, the foam art you tediously practiced until a cute bear face stared back from the surface of a cappuccino. But any new shop comes with quirks, like the fire alarm that goes off almost every morning. Luckily, the fire station is just across the street and you unknowingly have one of the fireman wrapped around your finger.

Warnings: coffee shop owner reader, firefighter Hoshi, pockets of angst, crying, lots of mentions of food and coffee, firefighter jihoon and his baker gf, crying, kissing

Length: ~4.6k

Note: second valentine's fic! surprise! written for the Cupid For You Fic Exchange hosted by @svthub. Happy Valentine's @idyllic-ghost / @bee-buzzez !!! i hope its the cafe au of your dreams

read more here

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

“I’ve got an iced dirty chai with oat milk at the end of the bar!”

A sour-faced woman scoffs, “That isn’t what I ordered.”

“Well, is your name Samantha?” 

“No.”

“Then it isn’t your order.” 

The exchange between Seungkwan and the woman rings familiar. Sundays bring out the best in everyone it seems. But you're too busy handling the never ending line of drink tickets to scold him for poor customer service. Focusing on the machine, you pull shot after shot; inadvertently covering yourself in errant splashes of milk and coffee. The rush of the morning is still going strong but you hone into the rhythm and let your mind fall away from anything beyond the cups resting atop the counter next to you.

But as always, the steam from the milk frother continues to heat the space above; right where the over sensitive fire alarm was installed.

The shrill blaring freezes everyone in place. A few children scream in shock, making the vein on your temple throb. Your ears ring with each pulse as your head falls into your hands.

Every single morning since you opened Fika two months ago the alarm went off without fail.

And then he would show up like clockwork.

The bell attached to the wooden door chimes as Soonyoung breaks through the threshold of the cafe. Grimaced faces greet him. The shrill fire alarm with flash lights blares into the industrial space, bouncing off the walls to echo inanely. 

“Earlier than usual.” Soonyoung chirps as he saunters past the line, easily rounding the bar to access the screeching piece of junk inconveniently placed above the espresso machine.

You step out of the way, face flat and mouth tense. “Busy day.” You explain.

The alarm cuts off as swift as it started, Soonyoung stepping back to smile down at you.

“I can hang around in case. Seems like that line isn’t going anywhere.”

“Yeah, sure. Do you want something to drink?” You offer stepping back to the line of cups littering the metal counter.

“Ooo, buying me drinks already? Aren’t you presumptuous?”

The wiggle of his eyebrows is meant to be suggestive but they only make him look like he ate a mouthful of sour candy.

“Nevermind.” You huff, stepping around the man as you grab the next cup in line and start working. “Go save a cat in a tree or something.”

Sensing your waning mood, Soonyoung cuts the act. “I’ll just have my regular.”

“You know where the cups are.”

A full cup of brewed coffee joins him on the opposite side of the counter. Soonyoung plants himself in his usual chair, chin resting on his curled fist as he watches you work your magic.

On slow days he’ll chat your ear off until the fire station calls him back. But on days like today, he’s content to in silence; obsessed with the sureness of your hands, the strong pout of your lips, and the way everything seems pulled into your gravity.

Maybe he has a crush on you.

Scratch that; Soonyoung definitely has a crush on you.

And everyone knows. His supervisor, Jihoon, knows. It’s why Soonyoung is always the one to come and fix the faulty alarm in the shop. His best friend, Seokmin, knows. It’s why Seokmin and his fiancee constantly batter him with texts about when he’ll ask you on a date. If someone went to space and looked down they could see how much he likes you without even trying.

You hit a lull and Soonyoung takes his chance. “Got any special plans this week?”

“We’re doing themed baked goods on Wednesday.” You call over your shoulder.

It’s not what Soonyoung was asking about but he takes it in stride.

Your employees also know about the fireman’s feelings. It’s why Seungkwan throws a pitying look his way along with a deformed muffin. Subtle rejection tastes like blueberries and brown sugar.

“Will you save me one?” Soonyoung asks.

“Is free coffee not enough?”

“Who said I wouldn’t pay for it?”

You never let Soonyoung pay for anything at the cafe. Despite how much he enjoys free food, it always makes him feel a bit guilty. It’s why you think he only drinks black coffee with a lethal amount of sugar when in reality he’d take some fancy espresso drink any day. 

You laugh as you continue to work through the next batch of orders. “We’ll see if there are any left.”

“I’m a civil servant!”

“Serve in silence please!” Seungkwan barks, earning a few chuckles from the other customers sitting at the bar.

The back and forth continues and eventually the line dwindles to nothing as the morning lulls on. Soonyoung downs two more cups and manages to haggle Seungkwan for an overly toasted slice of banana bread with a singed corner he planned to throw out anyway.

The entire time Soonyoung watches you. Even covered in splashes of milk and coffee stains, he’s still enamored with you as you lean over the bar and jot notes in the ever expanding list of repairs and updates the shop needs.

And just when Soonyoung opens his mouth to say something, anything, the shrill beep of his phone cuts him off.

“Damn, I gotta head back.” He curses. “Just call if you need me again, okay?”

“Will do.” 

You don’t even look up as he walks towards the door.

“Satan is one the phone for you.”

“Please be less specific.” You beg Seungkwan, grabbing the receiver still on hold.

“Bakery lady.”

Steeling yourself, you unmute the phone and bring it to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Y/N?”

“Yes.”

“I was reviewing orders for Valentine’s. You're only doing the usual? I thought we talked about special items. I already bought the ingredients so if you changed your mind it’s putting me out of money.”

“No, we need at least two dozen of the cupcakes and two dozen of the cookies on top of our usual order.”

“That’s not what the order form says!” The old crone hawks through the line.

You ask her for a moment while pulling out your laptop and settling into a seat far away from the clusters of customers still strung throughout the cafe.

Wiping your face, you stare at the illuminated screen of your computer with the order form pulled up. “I have the form on my screen right now and it clearly says—”

“I don’t care what you’re looking at, it’s not what I have on my end!”

“Are you sure you’re looking at the form for Fika on Second street?”

“I’m telling you I’m—oh.”

The deflation in her tone pulls a smirk across your lips. “Hm?”

“Alright so two dozen red velvet cupcakes and two dozen heart sugar cookies?”

“Yep.”

“Alright, I’ll have it on Wednesday.”

“Thanks.”

Click.

The table shakes with the impact of your forehead. The clatter of your mug draws attention from the few customers around but none pay much attention.

“Everything okay?” A voice asks from above.

“Great. Wonderful.” You say into the wood.

“Good. Because the espresso machine is broken…again.”

You rise from your seat, face indecipherable as you walk past the counter, through the back storage area and into the alley behind the building. 

Several seconds pass before you release a guttural scream. It's gritty, ripping apart your throat as all bubbling exhaustion breaches your lips. The noise echos between the brick walls before escaping to the sky above. Several pigeons flee to the rooftops for safety while mice and other vermin scuffle along the walls in terror.

Seungkwan watches from the door, eyes wide as you continue to belt for the trash bags and city rats witnessing your meltdown. 

Your voice fizzles as you run out of air. Closing your eyes, you take two deep breaths. Inhaling the scent of stale storm water and whatever else perfumes the back alley until the stretch of your lungs burns from the inside out.

And then you turn and walk back inside as if the entire thing never happened.

The block is only illuminated by streetlights at this hour. Not even the earliest of early birds litter the narrow sidewalk as you push into the empty cafe and begin prepping for the Monday morning rush. The smell of fresh coffee fills the air, the whir of the grinder harmonizing with the jazz playlist curling down from the speakers. 

The calm before the storm.

Slowly the first shift employees trickle in just before opening; relieving you to commandeer the office slash storage room in the back, intent on knocking out the mountain of paperwork and following up with the repair man about the alarm he said he would be back to fix last week. But first, the phone blinking with unread messages.

“This is Megan. We’ve been trying to reach you about your car’s extended warr—”

Message deleted.

The next message is a young man reporting his credit card missing and visiting your shop. You call and let his voicemail know no one has seen anything but you hope he figures it out.

“Hi Y/N. This is Cheryl with Harmony Bakers. Just wanted to let you know I won’t be able to get that special order for Valentine’s Day. Or your regular order for tomorrow. We’ve decided to close up shop. Sorry about the inconvenience.”

The words don’t hit at first. But your brain slowly catches up to what Cheryl is saying. Canceling. She’s canceling two days before Valentine’s.

Your attempts to return her call fall flat. Six tries and all ring once before dropping into an automated message reporting her voicemail is full, no doubt from the other shops she’s also shafted with the impulsive decision. 

No holiday treats. No regular food items. No back up. No plan B. 

Failure, failure, failu—

The pad of paper littered with notes sails into the not so far wall only to slap against the plaster and slip to the ground. 

You can only focus on one problem at a time. Or at least the problem whose solution won’t send you to jail. And that means heading to the front where the day is starting to pick up.

The boys have things under control but the line is lengthening and you’re a great way to relieve the pressure. Immediately an invisible song pulls you into the rhythm of their work; drinks and food hit the end of the bar almost as fast as the orders came in.

Soonyoung comes in and waits at the counter as usual. The alarm seems to be granting mercy given the horrible state of affairs from this morning.

The customers not so much.

“God, how stupid are you that you messed up a simple order? It’s a fucking americano and you made it taste like ass.” 

The man standing at the end of the bar, hands flat on the counter in an attempt to physically dominate the space, always complains. His iced drinks are too cold, his hot drinks are too hot, the weather is bad, taxes are too high, the list continues on and on. And somehow it's always your fault. 

Usually its little barbs under his breath but today he’s out for blood and you’ve already had enough.

Your teeth grit together so hard it feels like the forced smile plastered on your face might crack them into dusk. “Like I said, I can remake it for you if you’d lik—” 

“Why would I want you to remake it? You clearly have no idea what you’re doing. Get someone else.”

“I got it.” Seungcheol steps forward. 

The older man gives him an apprehensive look. Seungcheol is harmless but he knows how to be scary when he wants to be.

“I’m gonna go…restock something…” you warble, all but sprinting to the back.

Plastic sleeves of cups and boxes of straws bear witness to your breakdown. The six am tantrum clouds in and your carefully built dam of control explodes. Hot tears streak your cheeks, dripping off the jut of your chin with every gasping breath from the knot in your throat tangling tighter and tighter. All you can hear are ugly gasping breaths as you rock back and forth in the dark. 

The sliver of light spilling in from the cracked door doesn’t register given the way your face is buried in your hands. Soonyoung has half a mind to pretend he never entered the cramped space. He’s never seen you so… small.

A shrill squeak of the hinge alert you to the new presence. Bloodshot eyes find his wide ones and you swipe at your face to hide the evidence of your distress. You go to speak but barely manage a croak before the tears come again.

“Shit,” Soonyoung whispers. “It’s okay, it’s alright.”

The warmth of his chest makes you cry harder, tears spilling onto his neck as you hide from the world. He smooths the flat of his palm across your back.

It's anyone’s guess how long you stay there. Soonyoung’s cheek rests on the top of your head, arms firm around your shoulders. The faint smell of smoke tickles your nose. Smoke and pine from his cologne. It tethers your mind, lulling the frantic breakdown and giving you something to focus on other than how horrible the day has become in the span of a few hours.

No baked goods. Horrible customers. And now you’re being held by the handsome fighter from next door with snot dripping from your nose.

Soonyoung hesitates when you shift in his hold, arms tightening for a second in case another bout of tears crops up. But you pull far enough away to send an embarrassed grimace his way before looking anywhere else.

“Sorry.” You say, turning to snatch napkins from the shelf next to you.

His hand continues to rub your shoulders as you dab your eyes and blow your nose. 

“It’s okay. That guy was a jerk.”

“I don’t care what he said.” 

Soonyoung stares in disbelief, waiting for you to continue. 

“My baker canceled on me, and the espresso machine is held together with duct tape, and there's a million other things going wrong, not to mention the fire alarm. And I just…”

Squeezing your eyes tight to prevent the moisture swelling in the corners proves unhelpful. To Soonyoung’s credit he stays silent, allowing you all the time you need to get your thoughts in order. But the hand on your back continuing to trace abstract shapes between your shoulder blades lets you know he’s there when you’re ready.

“It’s just been a rough week.” You say to the floor.

The admission lifts the ten pound weight off your chest. Soonyoung isn’t an employee you need to guarantee everything is okay to or a customer requiring a mask. He’s a…friend? It feels generous but if he was anything less you doubt he’d be where he is now.

“Is there any way I can help?”

You blow your nose into the tissue before laughing wetly. “I don’t suppose you have a magic wand, do you?”

“Just broke mine actually.” He winces sarcastically.

What’s another thing on your never ending to-do list? Along with the desperate need to buy more supplies for tomorrow, how difficult can it be to conjure artisan baked goods out of thin air?

“Actually,” Soonyoung perks. “Jihoon’s girlfriend works at a bakery. Pete’s? No, wait. Penny’s?”

“Petunia’s?”

“That’s the one! Maybe I can ask her if she can help?”

“Good luck.” You snort. “They couldn’t even fit me into their normal rotation.”

“We won’t know until we ask!” He chips, thrilled he can help.

Soonyoung jumps up, a cruel chill invading the space he once occupied. Like the sun moving behind a cloud and leaving you at the mercy of a cool breeze; there and gone before you can delve into what it means.

You hand him the order form you usually give your baker to relay to Jihoon’s girlfriend. While he steps out to ask for a miracle you focus on tallying how many cups, napkins, lids, and other miscellaneous items you need from the supply store across town. A few lone tears appear, falling without much preamble but the worst is out and stained on Soonyoung’s shoulder. You’ll get through it. With Soonyoung’s help you’ll get past everything, even if his efforts fall flat.

Seungcheol and Seungkwan confirm they’ve got things under control as you take your leave. Soonyoung is just visible in the dissipating morning fog hanging in the street. He paces the sidewalk, speaking into his phone animatedly before spotting you trying to sneak past him to your car.

“Thank you! You’re the best!” He cheers before hanging up and pocketing his phone.

“So?”

“They’ll do it! One of the other shops dropped out last minute and they have a lot of extras. Maybe not all the usual stuff but Rita said she can pull together most of the stuff on the form.”

Body frozen, you stare at Soonyoung with an open mouth and eyes wide. There’s no way he solved half your workload with one phone call.

“She also said they can try and work you into their usual orders. If that’s something you’re interested in…” Soonyoung trails off, glancing at you nervously. 

In a blink your back in his arms, squeezing him so hard your arms hurt.

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” You chant into his chest.

“Of course.”

Stepping back, you blush at your own impulsiveness. 

“Um, well…” you fumble, clearing your throat you get back to the task at hand. “I need to run to the store so I’ll see you later.”

“I can come!” 

“No! I mean, you’ve already helped so much. I’d feel bad dragging you along.”

“Don’t worry about me, I'm just trying to make sure you don’t start crying again and cause an accident.”

“Okay, rude.”

Soonyoung ignores you, already strutting down the street.

“Your cars this way, right?”

“No.”

“Listen, I wanna come with you. I have nothing else to do today.”

“Cool,” You laugh, continuing the opposite direction Soonyoung headed.  “but my car is still this way.”

The drive is pleasant. You learn more about Soonyoung in the thirty minutes it takes to get across town than you’ve learned in the weeks he’s been coming to the cafe. He has an older sister, he likes to volunteer at the youth center down the street in his time off, and he cannot work a computer if his life depends on it. You also learn more about his coworker turned best friend who also happens to be the boyfriend of your new god.

“Yeah Jihoon and I started the same day. He comes off kinda cold but it's all an act.”

“Oh, really?” You laugh, pulling into a cramped parking spot.

“One hundred percent. You should see him with Rita. I never saw him blush that much until they started dating.”

“How’d they meet?”

“Funny story.” Soonyoung shares, climbing out of the passenger seat. “So the bakery she worked at before had a fire. No one was hurt and they put it out before we even got there! But we went to make sure everything was clear. Well, Rita was there and I swear it was love at first sight for him.”

“That’s sweet.”

You both make your way inside the sliding doors; Soonyoung pushing a flat cart behind you through the aisles. 

“He’s definitely mellowed out since he met her. Doesn’t work as much, thank god.”

“What about your girlfriend? Do you guys have the same Hallmark meet cute?”

“Oh! I don’t have a girlfriend.” Soonyoung mumbles, ears turning scarlett.

Your face heats as well. Whatever force compelled you to ask such a prying question revels in satisfaction to hear Soonyoung is in fact single. A tidbit of information you’ve never wondered about before.

“Sorry I couldn’t get you anything for today.” Rita says as she helps unpack everything onto the counter.

The cafe is scarce of customers, far past closing time but Rita said they’d be too busy delivering to their other customers in the morning to spare a trip to you. What's another Tuesday at the shop? It isn't like you have time for much of a social life given the million things you need to do.

“Really don’t worry about it. You're saving my life by getting me this stuff for tomorrow.”

“Well Soonyoung made a bargain I couldn’t refuse.”

You pause for a moment. Soonyoung didn't mention anything beyond the payment Rita quoted and later sent via email. Did he promise something from the shop on your behalf?

Swallowing the budding annoyance, you continue to work like nothing is wrong. “Oh?”

“I mean an entire month of covering Jihoon’s shifts? What kind of person passes that up?”

What?

Soonyoung offered to sacrifice all his free time to help you. Soonyoung who you barely know beyond the fact that he pretends to like black coffee. The man chews with his mouth open. Soonyoung who let you ruin his sweater with tears and snot from a horrible day.

“You didn’t know?” Rita asks, face full of mirth.

“Ugh, no,” you cough. “He didn’t tell me that.”

“I was shocked when he offered. He wouldn’t do that for just anyone.”

But he did it for you.

“Yeah.”

“Y/N?” 

You find Rita smiling like she knows some big secret. If you had to guess, it's probably the same thing you're realizing now.

“Soonyoung’s a great guy.”

Words fail you because you know Soonyoung is a great guy. He held you when you cried, he comes in everyday without fail to turn off the alarm, and he just sacrificed a month of his life because it would help you.

Once you and Rita unpack the remaining cookies and cakes, she takes her leave but not before dropping another wink when she spots Soonyoung approaching from the direction of the fire house.

“Rita.” he greets at the door, holding it open for her exit.

“Hosh.”

And she’s gone without another word.

“How’s it going?” Soonyoung asks, rounding the counter to join you.

“Great!” You blurt with too much enthusiasm. “Rita ended up making everything we needed.”

A second set of hands assists in packing the glass display case in preparation for tomorrow's chaos. Soonyoung listens well. Patient to a T as you direct him to tweak things just so from the opposite side of the bar.

“Thank you for all your help this week. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t here to help.”

He continues to unpack the few remaining goods beneath the counter as he responds. “It’s not a big deal. What are friends for?”

“Hmm and you agree to cover all of Jihoon’s shifts for your friends?”

Leaning back against the opposite counter, you watch Soonyoung’s shoulder tense and his ears erupt into bright red. He’s so still he doesn’t even seem to be breathing at the shock of being caught. Each passing second heightens the smirk curling your lips. 

“Oh, you heard about that?” He asks into the counter.

You saddle up beside him, dropping your head until his eyes meet your own. Each inch of space you claim next to him sends him away like an opposing magnet; until your sandwich between him and the hardwood.

“Yeah, I heard.”

Soonyoung backs away nervously but not before you catch the way his eyes cut to your mouth. Who knew all it took is a smile and batting your eyelashes to make chatty Soonyoung clam up? The shyness bubbling on the edge of your conscious fizzles with the new knowledge; instead, curiosity takes its place. How much more can you make him blush? What would he do if you grabbed his hand? Or if you took a chance and kissed him?

“Soonyoung?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you have a crush on me?” You smile around each word.

He opens his mouth to argue but it's moot with the way you gaze at him, eyes shining with mirth.  Like you're laughing at some shared joke. Soonyoung will tell you whatever truths you want to hear if it means you’ll keep looking at him like that.

“Yeah.” Soonyoung whispers so quietly you almost don’t hear him.

“Good.” 

You step into his space with finality, chests brushing with each breath. 

“Good?” 

The edge of your teeth pinning your lip down is the only thing preventing a smile from ripping across your face as you answer. “Because I have a crush on you too.”

“Oh…” He nods, head dropping dejectedly and then it hits him and whips back up so fast his eyeballs rattle. “OH. You do?”

He watches you nod, slowly angling himself to connect your lips. When Soonyoung realizes you aren’t going to push him away, evident by the hand fisted in his sweater, he goes for it.

The curve of your lip, the breathy sigh you release into his mouth, the way you seem to go boneless with each pass are all committed to his memory. Soonyoung reminds himself to be good. That this is the first time he’s kissing you and he should be a gentleman; gentle, chaste, respectful. 

And he would succeed but you’re acting like you have no interest in any of those things. You whisper another heavenly sigh into his mouth, trailing a hand in the short strands of hair at the base of his skull forcing Soonyoung to focus on batting away the demons at the edge of his mind rather than giving into temptation.

But when you tug to angle his head better the delicious sting drowns Soonyoung so quickly he has you pinned to the counter before he realizes what's happening.

Sometime later, when your lips are swollen and the floor sways beneath you from the flood of giddiness coursing through your veins, you and Soonyoung part. The crisp air of the late night tries in vain to nip at your face but you’re too distracted by the calluses on the side of Soonyoung’s thumb and the way they rasp against your knuckles as he walks you to your car.

The cafe is in full swing by the time Soonyoung comes in Wednesday morning. 

All morning he paced across the cramped common room of the fire station. Sure you let him kiss you but what did it all mean? He knows you like him but did you like like him or just like him? Should he have asked you on a date? Would that be too forward? Did he mess things up by not immediately asking you out despite the fact he was so love drunk he ran into a pole after watching you drive off?

He fights the idea of running across the street and demanding answers. You’re definitely too busy to spare a second and tame the butterflies in his stomach. And how pathetic would he look if he asked you to explicitly dictate how you feel so no wires end up cross? And on Valentine’s day no less?

Luckily, he’s saved by the bell. Or rather the fire alarm.

He watches you work like a tornado, pausing only to smile at him the same way you did last night when he did not so safe for work things against the very counter lined with coffee cups and steaming mugs. Flashes of memory heat across his face.

You thank him with his usual coffee and one of the cupcakes you set aside just for him. Except this time his paper cup is scribbled with a heart and something else.

Be my Valentine? _Yes _ Also Yes _ YES BUT LOUD

At some point he should tell you about the sensitivity setting on the alarm and how all you need to do is nudge the tiny lever to the right if you don't want it going off every time the steam builds up. But the way you beam at him when he steals the sharpie from behind your ear and checks all three boxes on the cup makes Soonyoung decide it’s a secret he’ll keep for now.

@cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @tomodachiii @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @gyuguys @primoppang @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

[katiexpunk]

Sex On Fire, Part 3 | Pairing Firefighter!Joel Miller X Fem!Reader

Series Summary: You're a country girl in the big city, thanks to your generous aunt. You expected to have adventures your first year in New York, but what you didn't expect was for your hot, firefighter neighbor, Joel, to be part of them.

Part 3 Summary: You finally relieve the sexual tension between you and Joel. And once you get started, you never really stop.

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Word Count: ~6.6K

Warnings: Sexual tension. Finally relieved sexual tension. Size kink. Praise kink. No age gap mentioned. Pet names. Alcohol. Grinding. Explicit, unprotected m in f sex. Creampie. Fingering. Flirting. Feelings. Love. Dirty talk. Commanding!Joel. Soft!Joel. Semi-public sex. Firefighter kink. Uniform kink. Firetruck sex. Just lots of fucking, honestly. Oral. Sarah and Tommy make an appearance, Ellie get's briefing mentioned. Sex and the City references. Reader and Joel like orange chicken. Cannolis. Fire references. One reference to 9/11. New York City.

Authors Note: I have so much I could say about this one, but I'll keep it short. Thank you for your patience on this, and for all of the love. I hope you think the build-up was worth it. I love ya'll a milli.

Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Notifications

Part 1 | Part 2

As soon as Sarah opens the door, she can tell something is different, she can feel it. She expected to find her dad engrossed in his usual weekend routine—perhaps watching a movie or reading a book—or even more so, she expected to find his apartment empty, with him being on call, but no. The fresh aroma of dinner and the faint smell of candles alert her to something more. Plus it’s quiet, a little too quiet. 

“Dad?” she yells. 

And shit. 

You’ve got to be joking, you think. 

Your eyes practically poke out of your skull as you attempt to adjust your dress, straightening and flattening the lace straps of your panties over your hips, your arousal still tacked on to your inner thighs. You frantically try to pat down your hair and wipe the indecent look from your face, but you think it might be obvious anyway. Months of wanting and need are hard to erase on demand. 

Nearly getting caught, and hearing his daughter's voice, causes Joel to soften. He quickly pulls his pants up and buckles his jeans. He runs his fingers through his curls and braces for impact, rising to stand next to you in front of the couch, being sure to leave a decent gap between your bodies. 

Sarah walks through the hallway and sees the dining table set for two in the distance, the candles nearly burnt to the end, but still flickering. She turns her attention to the living room, then to you and Joel, and oh, this is new. Her eyes catch a glimpse of the cocktails on the side table and then she immediately drags her gaze back to you both.

Caught off guard, Sarah hesitates in the living room, unsure of how to react. Joel looks at her but doesn’t quite say anything. "Hi, dad... I, uh, didn't know you were expecting company," Sarah stammers, feeling a flush of embarrassment.

Joel clears his throat, attempting to compose himself.

You smile warmly, trying to alleviate the awkwardness. "Uh, hi – you must be Sarah,” you sheepishly wave, “Your dad has told me a lot about you."

As Sarah steps towards you both, she can’t help but shake the feeling of intrusion. She forces a smile, trying to play off her surprise. "Hi. Um, it’s nice to meet you, too,” she pauses before adding, “I’m really sorry, I didn't mean to barge in. I just wanted to surprise you dad, but I’ll um… let you two enjoy your evening."

Joel, realizing he needs to address the situation, says, “Sarah, wait. Let me explain."

But Sarah shakes her head, not wanting to prolong the discomfort, heat creeping up to her chest. "It's okay, Dad. I'll catch up with you later. I told Ellie would meet up with her tonight anyway. I’ll be back, uh – later.” With that, she makes a hasty exit, leaving both you and Joel a bit surprised and amused. Did that really just happen?

In the hallway on her way out, Sarah can’t help but smile at the unexpected turn of events. She has never seen her dad with anyone since her mom ran out. Sure, it might be weird to think of her father with someone, but it’s quite the opposite. As far as she can tell, he seems happy. And if he’s happy, she’s happy. Plus, he deserves it. 

++++

As Sarah exits the front door, you and Joel both stand there in charged silence. He turns to face you and takes a step forward to close the distance that he had intentionally created. He’s so close, enough so that you feel his belly rising and falling with this breath. You place your hand on his chest and feel the thrum of his heart beneath your palm before letting it slowly glide down over his taught muscles, your fingertips coming to rest on his pants, the tips of them gently tucked into the band below his belt. 

There is so much you could say. So much he could say. Hell, so much you both should say. 

You pause there looking up at Joel, waiting for him to say anything. An explanation, an excuse, something. 

But he doesn’t. 

Because he can’t. 

Simply because for the past few months, you've dominated every corner of his mind, leaving no room for a single coherent thought to emerge. Every waking moment has been an incessant stream of you – your smile, your laugh, your perfect tits, and hell, even the thought of you spread wide on his couch, begging for him to take you. He no longer feels like a rational man capable of clear thought. 

When his mouth goes to form words, nothing comes out. Although that’s not a total surprise considering most of the blood in his body is not in his brain, nor has it been for a while now. No, it’s all in his cock, and not being able to do anything about it has been slowly driving him over the edge.

The way you look at him is like an extra quarter being added to the coin pusher that’s already piled high with money, just waiting to topple over for the jackpot. 

Joel Miller is a gentleman, yes. He’s also an adoring father, an excellent firefighter, and a good brother. 

But right now, none of that matters. You have stripped him of every title, replacing his being down to one existential thing.

Need.

An animalistic, raw, burning desire courses through his veins for one thing and one thing only.

You.

And although he wishes it was a bit more seamless and romantic, right now he couldn’t care less. Coming down your throat isn’t enough. He hasn’t even fully had you yet, but he can already tell he’s hooked.

He’s an addict and you’re the drug. Enough will never be enough. Try as he might, he’ll always want more, more, more. 

Starting right fucking now.

Joel looks down at you with dark eyes before he grabs you in a way that says he means business. One hand catches the back of your head, the other goes to your waist, and he pulls you taught against his chest, the pressure of it releases a little oof from your lungs, and he greets you with an intense kiss. You taste a hint of whiskey on his breath, and you wonder if he can taste himself on you.

This kiss feels different. The first couple were amazing, the best you’ve ever had if you’re being honest, but this one goes deeper. He kisses you with such an intensity that you find yourself questioning the laws of gravity – what goes up, must come down. Right now, you’re not sure if you’ll ever come down from the way he makes you feel, the way his lips on yours make you feel like you’re free-floating amongst the clouds.

“Mmm,” Joel moans, his lips barely separating from you. “Really had a different evening planned in my head, Darlin’,” he admits, words reverberating against your lips. He grazes them down to your jaw and places soft kisses along the square edge of it. His hot breath greets your ear, “But to hell with it…no more distractions, baby.” 

All you can respond with is a moan of his name, lost in the haze of your arousal. You’ve been fantasizing about this moment for months; how finally having him deep inside you would feel. Now, your dream is materializing before you and you’re dizzy with fervor. 

He continues to nip at your neck, his hands finding their way to the straps of your dress and before long he’s pulling them down, the silky fabric of your dress falling to the floor so you’re completely nude in front of him, bare save for the soiled fabric of your thong. He groans in approval against your skin before licking a broad stripe up the valley of your breasts, his hand coming up to thumb one of your nipples as he does. 

“Ugh, yes Joel, I want you, need you so fucking bad,” you moan with your head tilted back as his mouth greets the tender skin of one of your breasts. His mouth navigates to the flesh of your nipple and you let out a desperate moan, tangling your hands in his salt and pepper-streaked hair. 

“Yeah?” he says, a somewhat taunting tone to his voice, releasing your nipple from his mouth with a loud pop. “Love to hear you say that, baby. But I think you can beg a little better f’me, can’t you?” 

“Want you so fucking much, Joel. Need to feel you inside me, it’s driving me insane not knowing what you feel like. Waited so long, please fuck me,” you add for good measure, not evening trying to mask the urgency behind your voice. You’ve never felt like this before, so full of lust, and need, your core burning at a red-hot temperature, dripping for him and only him. 

“That’s better,” he says as he pushes you against the wall, not even bothering to notice the picture frames that fall to the floor as a result. He quickly spins you around, letting his hand drag from the top of your neck down the column of your spine, encouraging you to arch your back. Your cheeks meet the cool feel of the wall beneath you and the corners of your lips rise in a little smirk. Fucking finally. 

He grips the sides of your waist, and palms down the length of your body, admiring the softness of your skin and the way your body naturally responds to his touch. Once at your hips, his fingers hook under the fabric of your panties and he rips the thin fabric, literally tearing it off your body. 

“Fuck, look at you,” he groans. You stay pressed against the wall with your back arched for him and whisper something that almost sounds like a please. He unbuckles the metal on his belt and shoves his pants down his thighs in a haste. There’s something especially filthy about it – you fully nude in front of him, while his clothes barely cling on. He’s too voracious to fully undress or relocate to his bedroom. It has to be right here, right now. 

With one hand, he grabs his heavy cock and gives it a few strokes. He uses the weeping tip of it and drags it through your already wet folds, collecting the mixture of your sick and his pre-come to coat the length of him. 

He nestles himself at the entrance of your cunt, “Ready for me, baby,” to which you can only reply a muffled need you. He presses himself into your wet heat, and you let out a little moan, one mixed with a twinge of pain, but mostly pleasure. Tears prick in the corner of your eyes, and your jaw falls slack as he pushes himself further and further inside of you with every thrust. You’re already in ecstasy and he’s not even fully inside yet. 

“Fuck, I can barely fit,” he mutters, “so tight, baby. Relax f’me” And something about his voice, the silkiness and commanding parts of it, causes you to listen. You take a deep breath and urge yourself to calm the walls that swallow him. And it works because, with one more thrust of his hips, his cock is buried to the hilt inside of you. You feel so full you swear you can feel him in your lungs, but it’s such an exhilarating feeling that you can’t imagine what it feels like to not have him inside of you. 

“Taking this cock so god damn well, darlin’,” he mutters, his voice low. “Gonna move now, okay? Tell me if it hurts.” As he retreats, there’s a dull sting, stemming from a stretch you’re not used to, but it’s not particularly a bad feeling, just new. Your eyes flutter closed and he continues to work into you, acclimating your body to his. It doesn’t take long, your pussy responds to him in kindness, devouring it like it was made for him. Joel lets out his own wrecked groan of approval and begins to fuck you in earnest. Each movement of his hips smushes your face against the wall. The friction on your cheek should hurt, but it doesn’t. It’s adding fuel to the fire raging between your bodies. 

With one hand holding you steady as he fucks into you, the other snakes around to the front of your body, and his thick fingers find your puffy and sensitive clit. He adds the slightest bit of pressure and begins to rub circles on it. “Oh my god, Joel, please – ah, please don’t stop.” 

“‘M not stopping, baby. Feels too good,” he adds, his voice wrecked. The feeling of his warm chest pressed up against you, the fullness of him inside of you, and the attention he gives your body with his fingers is so intense you swear you see god. 

You have given yourself many orgasms before, but you can tell that the orgasm that threatens to rip through your body is electric, different. You feel the familiar spread of pleasure that starts in your belly and emanates outwards, and within seconds you’re gone. Your breathing stops altogether, your ears ring, and your knees go weak as Joel fucks you through it. 

Joel groans and drops his head to your shoulder. You coming on his cock nearly undoes him, gripping around the thick shape of him in a way he didn’t realize was physically possible. “Shit darlin’, so good for me, ‘m not gonna last much longer,” he says with an urgency behind his voice. “Where do you want me?” 

“Come inside me, please want to feel it, need all of you,” you beg, and that’s all he needs to hear. He knows it’s risky, but he’s good with risk. Joel lives and breathes risk nearly every day of his life. Besides, no risk has never felt so fucking good. 

You can tell from the way his breathing eradicates that he’s close. With a final stutter of his hips and his cock is deep inside of you, he empties himself, painting your cervix with so much come that your pussy can hardly hold it. “Fuck, baby,” he groans, panting against your skin. After he catches his breath, he holds your hips steady and slowly pulls out, a little glob of his release falling to the hardwood floors below as he does. Your palm comes to cup your sex as if to hold the rest of it inside of you, still wanting to have part of him inside of you, and you turn back around to face him. The feeling of the cool wall on your back offers a stark contrast to the heat of his body. 

Now that you’re both finally satisfied, you stand there looking at each other. Part of you expects something to feel different, but it doesn’t. His hand comes to cup your cheek, and he plants a soft kiss on your lips. “We still have dessert, you know,” he says, gazing at you with a tenderness that causes your stomach to swoop. 

You're beginning to understand that what you feel for him goes beyond mere physical desire. 

What once started as a little spark in kindling, now threatens to burn the whole damn house down. 

W I N T E R 

As autumn relinquishes its vibrant hold on New York, a gradual transformation unfolds, marking the seamless transition into winter. The once-lush tapestry of fall foliage succumbs to the chill in the air. The streets, once adorned with a carpet of golden leaves, now echo with the crisp sound of footsteps on pavement.

Ever since your first official date a few months ago, you both have been inseparable, only parting to go to work. You take turns switching apartments, leaving practically no surface unfucked on – the couch, the kitchen floor, the dining room table – it’s all fair game. 

You’ve both conceded that it’s best to do date night at home, given both of you can’t keep your hands off each other for long. It always starts out innocent, a flirty look across the table, a wink in the elevator, and before you know it his fingers are knuckle deep inside of you, curling against the spongey spot that makes you weak for him. 

You and Joel haven’t officially put a name to what you are, or what this is, but for now you don’t mind. You’re content in your little cocoon of bliss. 

It’s Saturday night, and Joel’s at the station for the weekend. You’re cozied up under a hand-knitted blanket, an early christmas gift courtesy of your aunt. Not by her hands, of course, she could never be bothered with such a thing. “Saw this at an adorable little market in Florence. New York is cold in the winter, stay warm. Happy holidays, darling. Love you dearly,” the hand penned note read. 

You’re watching a rerun of Sex and the City, the episode where Carrie is high and yells “Fuck the chicken wings! Where did we put the fucking pot?” A half bottle of red and a handful of Sang Garden to-go cartons are spread out on the coffee table in front of you. 

When you called to order, you didn’t have to even give them your selections since your voice is so obviously recognizable. The older lady on the phone – Mei, you’ve come to learn –  is curt as usual, “Okay, see you in 10 minutes.” As you picked up your order, you couldn’t help but smile when you saw they had given you double the orange chicken and a side of fried rice, your new usual now that Joel is in the picture. 

They even threw in a handful of extra fortune cookies, Joel’s favorite. Your heart swells to the memory of him telling you the history of the cookie, his mouth full of half of one, “they’re not even from China,” he told you, “Best guess is that they’re from Japan. Learned about it from the History Channel.” 

He’s like that, an encyclopedia of random knowledge and facts, a geek in his own right. At first glance, he exudes an aura of calm competence and strength, but the deeper you get to know him, the clearer it becomes that he basically has the same energy of a golden retriever.

Midway through the episode, your phone buzzes with a text from him.

“Pretty slow over here tonight, what are you doing baby?” 

“Just watching a show, wish you were here,” you quickly reply. You hardly have time to place your phone on your chest before he responds.

“Sex and the City or Friends?” 

The smile that graces your face is like a teenager with her first crush. He knows you so well. 

“Sex and the City. Ordered Sang for dinner, they gave me double the orange chicken and fried rice, and like a million fortune cookies. Did you eat yet?” you reply. 

“Not yet. Gonna bring me some?” he replies, half-joking. 

Now there’s an idea. 

You unintentionally leave him on read, too excited at the thought of seeing him at work, as you throw your phone across the couch and toss the blanket off your legs. You package up the leftovers and change. Nothing too risque given it’s less than 20 degrees outside, but it’s an outfit you know Joel likes. A white tee-shirt, a soft cardigan, your favorite pair of jeans, and your waterproof booties. If there’s anything that you’ve learned since moving to New York, it’s that quality shoes are essential. 

You snag your coat and scarf, bundling up against the crisp night air, leftovers in hand, and stride out the door. The winter chill doesn't bite too harshly tonight, making you skip the cab and opt for a walk – a bonus being the journey through Little Italy to reach the firehouse. The atmosphere in New York this time of year is nothing short of magical – street lamps adorned with twinkling lights, plush pine trees peeking from nearly every window. You always wondered what Christmas time in New York might look like, and now you’re glad you know. 

As you make your way through the city, you pass by Ferrara Cafe and your attention is captivated by the sight of fresh cannolis being stuffed through the windows. A spontaneous decision leads you inside to snag a dozen or so as a surprise for Joel and the guys. He’s told you so much about them over the past few months, and as much as you’re excited to finally meet them, well – except for Lieutenant Franklin – you’re a tad nervous, too. With the firehouse now in view, that feeling only intensifies. 

Since both of your hands are full, you place the paper bag full of cannolis between your teeth and use your free hand to grab your phone from your pocket. You type out a quick “Surprise! Come outside,” and finish the walk to the station. Standing near the front entrance with both bags in hand, your attention turned to the street, the door to the firehouse opens and a low voice greets you. Except it’s not…

“Well hey there, Darlin’,” he says, his voice slightly muffled from the toothpick in his mouth. 

A cascade of dark curls crowns his head, his skin maintaining a sun-kissed glow despite the season. He boasts a broad, muscular frame, one that demands attention. The way he casually addresses you with a familiar "Darlin'" leaves you with little doubt. "You must be Tommy," you sweetly greet. 

“And you must be the neighbor girl who’s got my brother stopping to smell the roses,” he responds with a little chuckle. 

“Guilty as charged,” you smile, a little embarrassed, although you know you have no reason to be. You don’t miss the way his eyes drag up and down your frame. Joel had told you that Tommy was a bit of a flirt, and now you see why. 

“Come on now, it’s cold out here,” he says, holding the door open for you. You don’t know Tommy, not really, but from what you can tell he probably has the same impeccable southern manners as his brother. You practically feel his eyes on your ass as you walk through the door. Okay, maybe not exactly the same manners. 

Once inside the station, you let out a little sigh, happy to finally be back in a warm building. You turn to face Tommy and ask, “Joel’s here, right?” and before he can respond, Joel is within eyeshot of you, “Right here, sweetheart,” he says, looking at you in a way that makes your stomach flutter. 

You swear time slows down as he approaches, like a real-life Hallmark movie. You see him all the time, but seeing him in uniform at the firehouse, causes a rush of arousal to flow through you. He plants a soft kiss on the top of your head, “what’s all this?” he asks. 

“Oh uh, well, it’s dinner and a surprise,” you say, your voice slightly shrill; an octave higher than usual, a little caught up in your affection.

“Yeah?” he says, grabbing the bags from you, a genuine excitement to his voice. 

“Orange chicken, some fried rice and a ridiculous amount of fortune cookies for you,” you continue, “and cannolis from Ferrara for you and the guys,” you finish. 

“Cannolis!” Tommy exclaims, “Let me take this off your hands,” he says, snatching the bag from Joel, pushing through the both of you before disappearing to the kitchen to share the goodies with his team. While they’re both grown men, there are some things that will always remain true, and Tommy fighting his brother for sweets is one of those things. You smile in amusement and let out a little laugh. Joel shakes his head but you notice the corners of his lips lift into a smile as he does. 

“Real sweet of you to drop by,” he says as he grabs your hand, and yanks it forward so your chest is snuggled against his. His lips fall to yours, and you let out a little moan at the warmth of them. While there are many things to love about Joel Miller, one of your favorites, especially this time of year is that he’s basically a walking space heater. His skin and touch always so warm, so inviting. He feels cozy. Homey even. 

He intertwines his fingers through yours, and signals you to follow him, “Come on, I’ll give ya a tour.”

++++

Joel walks you down this hallway that's practically a living museum of memories. There are framed photos of the crew in their dress blues, badges marking moments of bravery, a worn-out flag from an engine that responded to 9/11, and even a tribute wall for the firehouse dogs that have been part of the family over the years. It's like each inch of this hallway has its own story, echoing with the sacrifice, tight bonds, and history that define this firehouse.

The air is alive with the sounds of camaraderie and the clatter of boots against the station's scuffed floors. As you pass by the living quarters, Joel points out the communal spaces where the team gathers after a call. You smile as you see all of the guys huddle around the kitchen table, the cannolis spread out on a paper plate in the middle of it. You hear one of the guys whisper don’t tell my wife about this one as he reaches for what you assume must be his second – third? – cannoli. 

He guides you past the kitchen, where the lingering aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingles with the savory scent of yesterday's family dinner. He pauses there to momentarily put the food you brought him in the fridge before continuing.

He shows you the training room, where the team hones their skills and drills to perfection. Joel explains the importance of constant readiness and practice. 

You walk past a set of stairs, and he tells you that’s where the beds and showers are. “Can’t take you up there though or I might get a little bold,” he chuckles and you lift one eyebrow to him in amusement, wishing he would. You have to admit the thought of Joel fucking you with the rest of his team below, completely unaware, is kind of hot. It turns on more than it probably should.  

Finally, the tour leads to the heart of the firehouse—the garage. The massive red fire trucks and the white ambulance gleam under the fluorescent lights. It smells a bit like gas, oil slick, and soap. You remember Joel telling you that they clean the firetrucks multiple times a day, something about the importance of taking care of the city’s multi-million dollar equipment, but you zoned out a little bit at the end of his speech, too distracted by his mouth as it moved. 

There are giant puffy black uniform pants neatly puddled and unbuckled on the floor, ready to be stepped into for whenever the alarm signals. 

You step further into the space, and Joel gestures towards the impressive array of equipment and black and yellow uniforms neatly hanging on racks, small locker shelves above each rack. You see that each hook has a last name above it. You see T. Miller above one, but you don’t see J. Miller.  

You run your hand along the uniforms adorned on the racks, and look at Joel as you ask, “And where is your rack, Captain Miller?” and fuck, you haven’t called him Captain since that first morning in his apartment. Somehow your question sounds just as provocative as it did the first time you asked him, You gonna let me say thank you properly for last night, Captain Miller? 

The memory of it causes his cock to flinch. He adjusts himself. You notice. 

He clears his throat, and tilts his head to the adjacent wall. “Uh, mine’s over here. Keep mine separate so Tommy and I don’t mix ours up,” he answers. You walk over to his space, and see his name. There’s a black helmet resting on the hook, a large white plaque in the front of it with blocky letters that say “33”, his last name “MILLER” above the numbers, and “NEW YORK” below them. 

Your hand darts out to touch it, and you trace your fingers over his last name. You pick it up and put it on your head, and look at Joel. “How do I look?” you ask, a cheeky tone to your voice, “think I pull this off?” Joel lets out a low groan of approval. Seeing you in his helmet almost does more for him than seeing you in his uniform shirt. 

“Look mighty fine in my clothes, Darlin’,”  he says while sauntering to where you stand and closing the gap between your bodies. His large palm reaches out to grab your wrist. He traces the pad of his thumb over your pulse and your breathing hitches in your throat. Even after all this time, his presence alone still has that effect on you. You’re convinced he could stop a Mack Truck on the freeway with his gaze alone. 

“Yeah? Think I’d be good at putting out fires,” you ask, lifting your eyes to his, peering at him through your lashes, your view slightly obstructed by the plastic. 

“I think you’re good at startin’ em,” he responds, amused. You give him a little smirk and pull your wrist from his grip as you walk over to the firetruck. You casually lean against it, feeling the cool metal on your back. 

“Oh come on, I could put out fires! In case you haven’t heard, I own a fire extinguisher now,” you playfully tease, still keeping your eyes locked on his. 

Of course he knows, he’s the one that bought it for you and walked you through how to safely discharge it. 

You drop your gaze to his crotch and are pleased to see a hardness forming there, probably from the memory of his demonstration and how less than two minutes into it your lips were wrapped around his throbbing cock. 

“You’re not paying attention, Darlin’, this is important,” he had said, not trying to stop you, not really, as you unbuckled his pants. 

“I’m paying perfect attention, and I agree, this is important,” you responded, giving him your own lesson on how to discharge something. 

Fresh off the heels of his little trip down memory lane, he walks over to you and meets you at the fire truck. His arm extends, placing his flat palm assertively on the metal above your head, revealing his sculpted bare bicep. You’re basically caged in by his body. Simultaneously, his other hand confidently finds your waist, and he tilts his face to kiss your lips. You feel his hard cock pressing back at you and it makes you whimper with desire. Your palm comes to grope the thick shape of him and he groans in response. 

“Can’t do this here, baby,” he says. He takes a step back and you shrug against the firetruck. 

“Hmm,” you respond. “I agree, this would be much better,” you say, stepping onto the firetruck. He’s not sure what comes over him, you just have that effect on him, but he follows you onto the rig. 

It’s not as big as the outside might make it seem, but there are four decent sized black seats, two on each side facing each other. In between each seat is a row of radios, headgear, and caution vests. 

Once on the truck, you think you might have to coax him to get what you want, but instead, you’re met with, “Pants off. Now. Gonna have to be quick about this, baby,” he says as he undoes the buckle of his belt and pulls his pants down, taking his underwear with it to reveal his massive package. 

You do as he says, not having to worry about your panties, considering you opted for none. It drives Joel crazy anytime he sees you’ve gone commando. His helmet is still on your head, and your nipples are hard beneath your shirt. The sight of him alone has you wet and Joel can tell by the way your inner thighs gleam with slick. 

He takes his place on one of the seats and holds his heavy cock by the base of it, positioning it straight up. “See what you do to me,” he groans, and gives his length a few strokes. “Come on darlin’, come take your seat,” and jesus. Commanding Joel is hot. You understand why they made him captain. 

You position your legs to stand above him and begin to lower yourself onto his cock. Your eyes flutter closed at the sting from the stretch of him. You’re wet enough, it’s just that he’s so fucking big. 

“Don’t close your eyes, baby. Look at me,” Joel says, and you do. He lets out a low wrecked groan of pleasure as your cunt swallows him. You feel the coarse hair at the base of him against your clit. 

“You’re so good for me, so fucking good around me,” Joel groans, and you begin to slowly move up and down his shaft, “fucking made f’me,” his filthy words cause you to shudder and move faster. 

“Touch your clit,” he orders. You steady yourself on his cock by placing one hand on his shoulder, using the other to rub your middle finger over your clit. You make figure eight patterns with your hips and it’s so good, so intense. His hands leave a bruise grip on your ass as he helps you grind into him. You’re close, Joel can tell by the way your walls clamp around him. 

“Come for me, pretty girl, wanna see you,” he says, as he brings his mouth to your clothed nipple and offers it a gentle bite. You moan, a little too loud, caught up in the sensation of the thick drag of him in and out of your heat. 

‘Gotta be quiet for me tho, darlin’,” he says as one of his hands finds its way to your mouth to silence you. With you now utterly quiet, the clapping sound of your thighs fills the air. He juts his hips up into you as you continue to ride him, and the tip of his cock brushes up against your cervix. With a few more strokes, you feel your sweet release rush through you like you’re nothing but a pool of gas ignited with a match. 

“Atta girl,” he praises, “so good for me, so pretty when you come all over my cock.”

It’s not long before Joel feels his wave of pleasure build. You pant as you do your best to continue riding him through your fucked out state, a sheen of sweat on your neck and face. His grip on your body tightens, “ah fuck, fuck,” he moans as he releases hot ropes of come inside of you. His forehead drops to your chest and you card your fingers through his hair, enjoying the sticky and delicious feeling of being full of him. 

Once he catches his breath, he looks up at you and your lips connect. 

In the middle of your kiss, a sound you're both familiar with goes off. 

The alarm.

The voice of a 9-1-1 dispatcher chimes through the speakers, “Engine 21, we have a stage three structural fire at 4145 Reed St. All units report.” 

Shit. 

You lift his helmet from your head and place it on his head before rising to stand. 

“Off you go then, Captain, I’ll see you at home,” you say, rushing to get dressed as he does the same. You quickly jump off the truck and manage to sneak back into the firehouse unseen as the rest of the crew swirls down the firepole and rushes through the door to the truck. 

Joel manages to get in uniform in record time, and is the first on the truck. 

As the rest of the crew piles in, Tommy finds his seat next to Joel and gives him a knowing smirk. “Smells like sex in here,” he says. 

Thankfully Joel is the only one who hears it. Joel feels heat rush up to his cheeks and before he can find the words to respond, the firetruck is barreling out of the station, sirens blaring. 

You hear the loud call of the sirens fade in the distance as it drives further away, and you begin your walk back to your apartment. 

++++

Once back at your apartment building, you don’t even bother to go to yours. You gather the mail that always inevitably collects on the floor by the entrance, and instead of stacking it into a pile at the base of the steps, you bring it up with you. 

You lift the boring, grey door mat and reveal Joel’s spare key underneath it. 

You slip the key into his lock and as it normally does, the space greets you with warmth. You grab a Bud Light from the fridge, and watch an episode of Friends before deciding to call it a night. You shower, once again using his shampoo and brush your teeth with the toothbrush that now permanently lives with Joel. You rummage through the wooden drawers in his bedroom and find the navy blue shirt with familiar blocky lettering that you’ve grown fond of. 

As you crawl into his bed, you’re reminded of your first night in New York. And just like you did that night, you stare at the ceiling, paying no mind to the smile that’s been plastered on your face for not just the past three hours, the past few months. 

You feel giddy, but not like a little girl seeing the stars for the first time, like a woman in love. 

You’re doing it. You’re really doing it. You’re just not doing it alone anymore. 

Maybe this was your aunts plan all along. 

++++ 

Nearly 6am the next morning, Joel returns home to find you curled up, peacefully asleep in his bed. The now familiar sound of your soft snores fill the room. He hastily showers, and slips into the sheets with you, curling your body against his as he glides his arm under your pillow, being careful not to wake you. You let out a soft little moan, but for the most part are in the liminal space between your dream world and the real world. Not fully asleep, but not fully awake, either.

With his broad chest against your back, he uses his free hand to play with a loose strand of your hair. He can tell you used his shampoo again. He can’t help the dopey grin that erupts on his face. 

He plants his lips against your temple. 

It’s too soon. 

He knows it’s too soon. 

But maybe, just maybe…I mean, you’re asleep, right? You won’t hear. He has to get it out, the unspoken words burning in his chest. 

He whispers a soft “I love you,” in your ear and allows himself to inhale your sweet scent mixed with lingering notes of him. 

As he goes to roll over onto his side to go to sleep himself, he freezes as he hears you whisper back, “I love you, too.” 

And boom. 

With those simple words, the house – your heart –  is no longer ablaze with a single flickering flame.

It’s on fire with an intensity you’re not sure could ever be extinguished. 

END

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[tommykinard6]

Should I be eating and resting? Yes. Am I? No, so come join me for a dissertation on Tommy Kinard being lonely.

Edit to add a note since I saw a reblog about it: Tommy has no canonical age right now and Lou is 39, 40 later this year, so that is my basis for saying he’s 39.

Now when I say lonely, I don’t mean that he has no one whatsoever. I can picture him going for drinks with his team or having some Muay Thai buddies that he could call up if he really was inclined. Maybe an old army buddy or two.

But there’s something about Tommy that’s just achingly lonely, both when he was at the 118 and now at Harbor.

Tommy had a broken home, or some other kind of unstable childhood. Maybe his parents split, maybe he was mistreated, maybe he was in the system or was passed around family members. Maybe he was isolated as a child because he was a little overweight (I think Lou said something along those lines) and was bullied. I think Tommy didn’t really have any friends until high school, when puberty hit and maybe he started working out and probably joined the football team. I don’t know if anyone remembers what teenage boys are like, but I can imagine they were the same as they are today back in the 90s/early 00’s. Because around this time, Tommy might’ve started to realize that something was very different about him.

Now this isn’t a meta about how I think Tommy dealt with his sexuality (maybe I’ll do one of those later) but I think he never would’ve risked his football friends knowing even if he himself could acknowledge it, which I doubt. So he messed around, got in trouble with these guys, hung out with the bros, and pretended to be interested in girl talk.

Of course, eventually, his buddies all got girlfriends and he was always the odd one out again.

He didn’t do college. The army was his next step. And I feel like this might have been the first time in his life he wasn’t lonely. He’d learned to blend in by this point and he worked with some great people. But as he started making real friends for the first time, he also started losing them as the war tore them away.

Tommy left the army and joined the fire department. There was an aching hole where the camaraderie of the army had filled previously and with no education beyond a high school diploma, Tommy thought the fire department would replicate that. Not the police though. He’d had enough of guns.

(And ohhhh now so many ideas on his thoughts during the sniper)

But he ended up at the 118 and quickly realized that his team had maybe more of a DADT stance than the army. He realized that he had to put on an elaborate act to fool his fellow firefighters, who had more time on their hands and more prejudice they were willing to wield to pick apart his life. Tommy, who maybe had only just started to acknowledge he felt differently about guys with less panic than before, had no choice but to backslide. He acted and acted and crafted a person he wasn’t until the day that maybe he was. Sal was his closest buddy at the 118 and Tommy had no doubt that Sal would be one of the first to make his life hell. Gerrard seemed to look at Tommy as some sort of mentee. Boxed in by two notorious bigots, Tommy had never felt more claustrophobically alone.

Chim was the first one to reach out a hand of friendship, or at least the first one that didn’t come with caution tape, but he was also an “other” and Tommy, who was confused and afraid and had just had his captain call his bluff on his fake girlfriend, lashed out. Then he allowed Chim in and Chim wasn’t interested in being besties but he was a great drinking buddy and movie buddy and Tommy felt safest around him.

Then Hen came and Tommy watched her get the same treatment he was afraid of. Not that he had to worry about the racism, and he was aware of the privilege, but Hen didn’t exactly hide herself and he watched them bully his lesbian coworker. He let himself get pulled into it all and hated himself for it, but was too cowardly to break away from it. He wasn’t sure why Hen had forgiven him, but she became the only other person on shift he felt even a little safe around other than Howie. But then Chimney and Hen became best friends and Tommy fell to the wayside. They still included him, sure, but they were always a pair and there was something there that Tommy didn’t know but longed for. A closeness he’d never felt.

A best friend. A juvenile idea to him, but one he’d never truly had.

Then Gerrard was gone and Sal got transferred and the 118 moved forward under Captain Nash, but Tommy felt left behind, even in what was the most united A shift team yet. Because he was over 30 and was starting to be unable to ignore everything that he’d had to hide under Gerrard, as he no longer had a distraction from it.

He’d been a pilot in the army, so he transferred to Harbor. And Harbor was great. He wasn’t best buds with anyone (he was starting to think that was never in the cards for him) but his team didn’t carry the same baggage that the 118 had.

So Tommy started to come to terms with himself. He started to date for the first time and came out to his team. And he had several boyfriends, but most couldn’t handle the job or his baggage or the desperate need he had to be wanted. His most long term partner cheated and the one he fell hardest for couldn’t deal when Tommy was injured on the job. Even within his own relationships, he felt like he was destined to stand alone.

Tommy was 39 years old and alone, as always, when Chimney walked back into his life, dragging an adorable and also extremely hot blonde and a stoic brunette that radiated ex military in a way only ex military could know. And then Hen was there and they were trying to rescue their captain and his wife and they clearly loved each other fiercely and like family.

And as Tommy listened, flying through the remnants of a cat 5 hurricane, he thought to himself that he should’ve never left. Simply just never found himself if only that meant being part of the family the 118 was now. However, he knew deep down that he still would’ve been alone and on the outside.

And they rescued the survivors and Tommy thought that was it but then Eddie wanted to hang out. And they liked the same things and had similar experiences and Tommy couldn’t help the hope. Because the loneliness had grown stifling and now he could breathe a little. And then Evan, the cute blonde, wanted a tour of the hanger and he thought that maybe he was being hit on.

And then at the end of it all, Tommy was left realizing that he’d wedged himself between two best friends and that was what happened when he allowed himself to hope. So he went to Evan to apologize. He would get Evan and Eddie to talk to each other and then would fade into the background.

But then Evan was sweet and apologetic and told him that he was part of the 118 family simply by helping them. Tommy couldn’t help it. Here he was, at 39, with a little boy still waiting inside of him to be soothed. And Evan was hot and sweet and Tommy couldn’t help himself.

And he really liked Evan. Evan was adorable. But their first date didn’t go as planned and Tommy knew he was already whipped. So he removed himself before someone could get hurt. Evan deserved better and so did he, even if the loneliness was stifling again.

But then Evan texted him and looked at him with sparkling blue eyes over too sweet coffee and wanted him. Him. He wanted Tommy and to have something with Tommy and he wanted him to come to his sister’s wedding with him.

And Tommy looked at him and saw someone who could finally fill the ache he’d felt his whole life. He saw a man who he knew he wanted to take a chance with. All he had to do was jump.

And he did.

And it wasn’t solved, not immediately and never fully. Too many wounds were left gaping for too long to ever heal. But for the first time in his life, at 39, with the 118 surrounding him and Buck as the sunshine at his side, Tommy finally felt at peace.

[vxntagedior]

well oiled machine

summary | you can’t seem to face bucky after crashing one of his cars

pairing | beefy!mechanic!bucky barnes x fem!reader

warning | angst, car accidents, fluff ending

word count | 1.0k

The shock blanket that was wrapped around you, wasn’t helping with your shock.

You kept muttering curses under your breath, your eyes wide, the adrenaline still rushing through your body. 

The entire intersection was blocked off, numbers of officers and paramedics were at the scene. The one ambulance held you, one of the paramedics, patching up the gash on your forehead from the impact causing you to hit your head against the steering wheel.

The other was for the man who crashed into you. Your light had just turned green and as you started to cross the intersection to keep going straight, a truck tried to pass his light before it turned red, not getting in time, running the red, and driving straight into the side of your car.

Well Bucky’s car, not yours.

Your car had been leaking, and Bucky brought it into his shop to figure out the problem and let you borrow his car for the day, his Camaro that he worked so hard to restore. And you finally realized you hadn’t called him.

Trying to grab your bag, you were pulled back, the paramedic scolding you for moving while they tried to get the stitches in. 

Still not seeing the car, being surrounded by paramedics and police you never saw the damage. A tow truck came onto the scene, and you prayed it was the other car that was going to get wheeled on. 

Fear struck your face when you saw the Camaro being wheeled on, the entire passenger’s side destroyed, the mirror just gone and the door barely hanging onto the hinges.

You felt tears cascade down your cheeks finally seeing the damage that happened, Bucky poured his heart and soul into the car and you wrecked it within a second. 

The medic was still tending to your wounds when you heard the shouting.

“Where is she, Y/n! Y/n!”

Your heart flared, hearing the familiar through the crowd of people, looking over the shoulder of the paramedic to see your boyfriend flow through the way of officers and firefighters.

He had been held back by two police officers, seeing the three of them argue before they let go under the tap, watching him run closer and closer towards you.

“Thank god.” Bucky muttered when he saw you sitting in the back of the rig. The medic had just finished with you, placing another piece of gaze over your forehead before going off in a different direction.

His eyes were frantic, his eyes searching over your body for any more injuries. “You were just going out to the bank and you were gone too long so I went to check and I saw the accident and the car.”

The moment he mentioned the car, your eyes started to water and your bottom lip started to quiver.

“Hey it’s okay.” Bucky thinking you were hurt, holding you gently.

“I’m sorry.” You sobbed, resting the side of your head on his shoulder. “I should have been looking more carefully, I could have seen you coming before I drove across and now your car is destroyed and you put some much work into it.”

Bucky furrowed his brows, looking back at the car then towards you again, opening his mouth to speak before you cut him off. 

“I’ll pay you back.” You gasped. “I a few hundred dollars saved up, I know it’s not enough but-”

“Baby.”

“I’ll put my paychecks towards it-”

“Doll.”

“And hopefully maybe-”

“Y/n, stop talking.” He finally got his word across. “I don’t care about the car, I don’t care about you paying you back.”

“But-”

“Stop.” He said loudly. “I thought I almost lost you.”

His voice started to quiver. “I saw the car, and everything flashed before my eyes and no one was telling me anything so I had to go out and figure it out myself. You don’t understand how happy I am that you are right in front of me in one piece. You’re okay. I can replace the car, I can look for more parts, I can’t do that with you, I can’t replace you.”

Bucky didn’t know he was crying, until you used the edge of your sleeve to wipe the tears that were on his cheeks.

“I’m-”

“You better not say you’re sorry.”

“I love you.” You said instead, smiling softly. 

“I love you too, so much.” He sighed.

-

Standing in the garage of Bucky’s shop, the two of you stood in front of the car.

Bucky was able to get the camaro back from the tow truck, happy that the two were close enough for him to get it back so easily.

You didn’t understand why he was restoring it, he had endless cars, another camaro but he just said it was okay.

“Should be good, test it out baby.” Bucky smiled through the window. Turning the key, hearing the sound of the engine start, he smiled. Turning the engine back off you got out of the car seeing how giddy he was.

“Why are you so happy?” You teased.

“Because I got your birthday gift.” He smiled, “Surprise.”

You didn’t understand at first looking around before you turned back to the car.

“Your car.” You said in awe. “B, I can’t take this.”

“You will.” He insisted. “Registered in your name and everything, it’s all yours.”

Squealing, you wrapped your hands around his neck, hugging him tightly. His arms naturally wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer into his stomach. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” You smiled ear to ear.

Bucky returned the gesture, turning you around so both of you were facing the car, his arm still wrapped around your waist.

“What do you say about taking it out for a little test drive?” He smirked. “Test out the waters.”

“I don’t know.” You muttered, you were still cautious since the accident a few months ago, Bucky kept explaining to you how it wasn’t your fault and you were a good driver.

“Hey, I’m right here.” He reassured. “We’ll be okay.”

Your hands gripped on the steering wheel as you continued to get closer and closer to the accident sight, Bucky noticed the distress, wrapping one of his hands around your thigh, squeezing it lightly..

“See.” He said. “We’re good.”

You smiled, giving me a quick look before turning back to the road, the two of you riding downtown together. 

fin.

[writersmess]

Hi I was wondering if you could write an evan buckley x female reader where the female reader is a firefighter that got stuck at the top of a tall building when on a call out and the reader has a bad fear of heights so she has a panic attack but buck is there to help her and comfort her (if you could include a smidge of hen being mother hen I would be so greatful🥰)

I would love it if you could do this☺️

I’LL BE BRAVE | EVAN BUCKLEY

Pairing: Evan Buckley x fem!reader

Warning: panic attack, fear of hights.

Word count: 1.5k

a/n: this is my first request everrr! I am super excited! I apologize if there are any mistakes, english is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it!

Masterlist

...........................................

Today was being a good day. A few months had passed since you had been transferred to 118 and you were officially part of this crazy family. You loved them. You had a special bond with Hen. Your sister worked with Karen and since the two of you started living alone after your parents death, Karen and Hen practically adopted you. You had dinner at their house almost every night and as soon as they heard that you had become a paramedic, Hen made sure to take you to 118.

And it was the best thing that ever happened in your life. You were now part of a family that you hadn’t had for a long time. Bobby and Athena loved you and your sister as if you were their own daughters. Chim and Maddie adored you, and Eddie made you babysit when he needed to solve some things or even go to dates, not that you’re complaining, you absolutely loved being with Christopher.

And there was Buck.

Your relationship was complicated. Nobody could ever contain their surprise when they realized how similar you and Buck were, your (bad) jokes, your charm, your humor. You were practically the same person. And the sexual tension that swirled between you was frighteningly visible. The jokes about you getting a room were constant. Until you got one. And you had simply the best night of your lives together.

The problem was the after. You didn’t know how to react around each other, everything was so uncomfortable. Until one day you realized that you were developing feelings for the blue-eyed fireman. This scared you so much, that you decided to distance yourself. You were giving him the cold shoulder for a few weeks now, and it was making buck feel really uncomfortable. He didn’t like not hearing your contagious laughter, your ridiculous jokes or not being able to have some of your warm hugs. The two of you were so confused.

“you should talk to him, I can’t stand you two idiots acting all weird anymore” Hen had been trying to make you talk to him for days and today as you were on the way to a call was no different.

“oh sure- Buck, after an amazing night together I found myself completely in love with you. How does this even make sense” you mocked as you prepared to get out of the ambulance and you heard Hen’s laughter.

“first of all, too much details. Second, you could just have a mature conversation together and it would all work out.” You rolled your eyes and Hen held your arm. “if you could only see the way he looks at you.”

Hen released the grip on your arm and you ran towards Bobby who was shouting orders to the team. Today was a tough call. A residential building on fire. You prepared triage for the arriving victims while the firefighters rushed with their equipment into the burning building.

“Cap, I need some help over here. A victim on the second floor with a piece of wood stuck in his chest. I won’t be able to transport him that way.”

You could hear Eddie calling the captain over the radio and your gaze crossed with Hen’s. When she made mention of moving, you were faster.

“Cap let me help. The wood needs to be stabilized and if that doesn’t work, they'll need someone with enough medical knowledge, or that person won’t make it out of that building alive.” Your heart was beating wildly in your chest. The adrenaline was extremely high and you could feel your hands sweating.

You noticed the look Bobby gave Hen and saw when she nodded slightly. The minute you finished gearing up, you saw Buck leaving the building with another victim and when his gaze met you, the desperation was clear on his face.

“Cap no, she can’t go inside. It’s too dangerous.” He tried to persuade the captain, but it wasn’t Buck who was going to undo his decision.

“Buck, you don’t give the orders here, she’s already prepared to go in. Either you will go inside with her, or I will'

He didn’t have to say it twice and in a few seconds you were inside a burning building. Buck was directing you where it was safe to step, when to duck or sneak. Your heart was pounding, your breathing was heavy. It was so hot. As soon as you found Eddie, he gave you the same surprised look, but let you do your job. When the patient was stable, he could finally be transported without danger.

Eddie and Ravi went ahead and you stayed behind for a few seconds. Long enough so that when you went to cross the same hallway you came in, a burning beam fell in front of you. Buck pulled you to his feet just as the beam passed within millimeters of your face. You were in shock for a few seconds.

“We have to go up, it’s the safest option.”

Before you could think, Buck pulled you in and you ran up the stairs to the top floor. As you went through the door that led to the terrace you could hardly breathe because of how many floors you ran up. All you could hear was Bobby’s orders to evacuate the building. It could collapse at any second. Buck radio him your location and the captain said that they were going to position the ladder for you to get out of there. Buck ran to the edge of the building and when he made mention of pulling you in, you could see how high up you were and you got desperate.

“cmon, we have to be prepared to jump on the ladder” He tried to pull you again but you were faster and took a few steps back.

“i can’t- Buck i can’t”

“What are you talking about, we have to-“

“Buck i CAN’T” you shouted the last word and he could see the desperation in your voice. You started to hyperventilate, your head was spinning, and you fell to your knees on the floor before Buck could hold you.

“w-what is going on? are you o-okay?” He asked holding you in his arms but could see you had difficulty in drawing in air. Buck quickly took off your oxygen mask and saw the tears streaming down your face. He started to panic.

“i-i can’t, it’s too h-high” You stuttered and he finally understood. You were afraid of heights.

“hey, hey look at me” He held your face firmly and tears were streaming down your face. “We need to get out of here, the building is going to collapse any second. I need you to trust me because I don’t want to lose you today, okay? I don’t want to lose you without having a chance to tell you how I feel about you, us”

Your eyes widened and he continued talking. “I need you to take a deep breath for me okay? Do it for me please"

You nodded desperately and drew deep breaths. You could hear Bobby yelling at you to get out of there soon, the building was about to collapse. Buck stood up and held out his hand to you. “Do you trust me?”

You nodded again and Buck guided you to the ladders.

"i need you to be brave"

He never let go of your hand, and when you were halfway down, the building collapsed. Buck held you as tight as he could as everything came crashing down behind you.

As soon as the smoke cleared enough for you to finish coming down, everyone rushed to meet you.

“What happened, are you okay? Are you hurt?” Hen ran up to you checking you out and you hugged her tight, assuring her that you were fine. Either way she put you in the ambulance to check your vitals and give you oxygen for inhaling smoke.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again, and don’t ever try to be a smart-ass again. Next time you stay and I go” she complained as you parked at the station and you smiled.

“Okay okay, sorry for the scare mama Hen.”

You scoffed as you opened the ambulance to organize the supplies and noticed when a pair of blue eyes walked past you. You quickly pulled him aside and he had his eyebrows raised. “I believe you commented something that if I didn’t die today, you would have a confession to make” you noticed his cheeks turning pink and you laughed.

“thank you for helping me there. I didn’t imagine I would have a panic attack in the middle of a burning building, but my fear of heights took me to a very dark place and if you hadn’t been with me, I probably wouldn’t be-“ You had tears in your eyes and buck’s arms surrounded you.

“you don’t need to thank me, I will always have your back” You broke away from the embrace and you saw that damn smirk on his face. “I hope we can continue this conversation at my place after the shift?”

“asshole” You laughed and went back to the ambulance.

You were so screwed.

[mvltisstuff]

I had an idea for you... if it sparks inspiration...

I was thinking something with Jonah the crazy dude from season 5... maybe the reader has a really minor heart condition that doesn’t really cause any issues day to day but she gets attacked by Jonah instead of Chim and he almost can’t restart her heart. Buck and Eddie know something is wrong (maybe she was suppose to hang out with them but doesn’t show) so they have Athena track her phone and they all go save her and catch Jonah. She ends up in the hospital for a while because it causes some complications for her preexisting condition.

heart like yours - e.b

summary: request

evan buckley x reader

a/n: sorry if there is inaccurate information, but i’ll try my best :)

y/n could tell by the tightness and eerie sense in the air that something would go wrong. usually, you know when you’re doing the right thing, but something felt completely different. the darkness of the night filled her apartment as she stepped into the quiet room.

once the door was shut softly behind her, she turned around to put her jacket on the hook. it all happened so fast, the impact on her head and the quick face in front of her. the villainous eyes of her coworker and blonde swoops of his shirt hair. she didn’t even have time to process the attack. it was going to be a battle against him to get out of this situation, alone.

jonah is smart, too smart, almost. he knows exactly what buttons to press to cause a complete catastrophe. y/n is smarter, though. from the beginning she knew jonah had something off about him. hen and chim believed her, but she didn’t say anything to the others. buck hates when she puts herself in danger, despite her job being almost the exact definition. y/n did the research on jonah with the partners, finding more suspicious information on the man.

y/n had no idea about all the drugs that were being pumped through her. her unconscious body on the table almost made a smile creep up on jonah’s face. the sweet sight of revenge, but somehow still claims he’s a hero. her body was jumping back and forth from death, almost touching the line before she was pulled back. jonah tortured her with ease, confident in his abilities to bring her back. what jonah didn’t know, is that he’s nowhere near being able to save her.

everyday from when y/n was born, her parents always told her about how lucky she is. the minor condition in her heart had become nothing severe, placing her life in barely any risk. it could’ve been worse, taking her life or forcing her to deal with day-to-day challenges. instead, she got to pursue her dreams of being a firefighter with no heart condition to hold her back. she was hardly ever reminded of her condition, until jonah started to play with her heart like a toy. jonah thinks so fondly of himself. so fondly, that he was taken aback at the lack of beating from her heart.

he always restarts it. he’s almost always able to, and he figured she got herself into this mess. the continuous flatline shot through his ears, making the so-called “hero” panic. when he thought about it, he couldn’t save claudette. maybe y/n would just have to end up like her, too weak to save herself.

jonah thought he was safe, being able to clean up the mess he made. his intelligence clearly hit a maximum, not remembering that y/n has people waiting for her all the time.

buck and eddie had arranged for them all to hang out that night. y/n was so distracted with jonah and his antics, so she figured it would be nice to get out for a little bit. their shift times had been rearranged, ending y/n’s early and leaving her to deal with the mess. the moment y/n’s phone went straight to voicemail, buck knew something was wrong. she always lights up when he calls, being delighted to hear his voice especially when they haven’t been seeing each other. he brought his concerns to eddie, who maturely tried to ease his worries. eddie knows all too well how much buck is enamored with y/n. he loves her more than anything he’s every known, and he’s not afraid to show it. he doesn’t know what buck would do without her. so, when y/n declines both of their calls, they immediately turn to a worried stance and try to find her.

they pull up to her apartment, seeing her car and none of her things inside. they walk cautiously up to the door, buck praying that she just fell asleep and she would be alright. his heart thumped in his chest, and little did he know his girlfriends wasn’t. his blood ran cold when the door was cracked open, running up to her apartment and running inside. all of her items like her purse, her bags, had all been abandoned in their normal spots.

“buck?” eddie catches up. “is she…” he pauses, looking around to see no signs of one of his best friends. “here.”

buck still just looks around in a frantic search for y/n. “eddie, shes not here,” he knows he’s pointing out the obvious, but he knows shes in severe danger when the door was opened and all her stuff was around. his breathing starts to pick up, gathering y/n’s purse before stepping back under the doorframe.

“hey, man,” eddie tries to calm buck down despite his own anxieties. the whole apartment is filled with uncanny feeling, every movement just making the guys feel more freakish. “do you think she just went down to the front or something?”

“she wouldn’t leave her things here and that door is wide open,” buck says. “eddie, what if someone broke in and found her- i dont wan- i dont want to jump to anything but jonah’s been on top of her case lately and i can’t even thin-“

“buck, listen,” eddie tells him, placing his hands on his shoulders. “relax, we’re going to find her.”

“i know who we need,” the idea chimes in bucks head. “we need athena, eddie. she knows exactly how to find her.”

buck sped over like he was in his own cop car, athena luckily still being on duty when he pulled over. he rushed in, eddie trailing behind him scoping out the sergeant. when he finally landed his eyes on her, buck was jogging over to her and she could see the pure fright he had in his eyes. “buck? what is going on here?”

“y/n’s gone,” buck spits out, putting a shocked look on athena’s face. “she didn’t answer any calls, and her door was wide open when we got to her apartment. nothing else was missing though.”

“you didn’t try to contact her through anything else?”

“no, and her car was there too,” eddie adds, making athena sigh and look over to her fellows.

“im going to send people to her apartment, make sure she’s truly missing, and maybe they can find more there,” athena starts, automatically knowing how to deal with the situation. “you need to tell me anything you can, even if you think its small, it’s not.”

buck started by giving her phone number and any way that she could access any of the data in y/n’s phone. they took it over to the people trained to track them, and they found several different spots. “it looks like she stopped here,” the man working at the computer starts. “and then i just see that she went home. that was at 9:37, though. it still has to update.”

buck waited painfully for the software to download anything else, he knows she’s not at home safe, where she should be. when the screen blinked and flashed again, the little dot of her location had changed again. “this says, 9:52, she was at 152 canal at that time. sound familiar?”

“can you check someone elses address?” eddie asks, seeing bucks disoriented state of mind.

“we should, as long as they have it in the files.”

“jonah greenway, where does he live?”

athena steps away, accepting something through her radio. unfortunately, every word is staticky but heard by buck and eddie. “sergeant grant, we’ve found something swept under the kitchen island, it looked like the over of a syringe or something alone those lines.”

the red and blue lights shined over y/n’s body, causing jonah to freeze. he considered every option, running or just giving himself up. the thick knocks on the door yanked him from his thoughts. he was scared, but the major part of him thought he did the right thing. he wanted revenge, and that’s exactly what he got.

the mob of officers made their way into the home, pulling their weapons up to face jonah, who willingly put his hands in the air, dropping the paddles to the machine. they walked up briskly to him, grabbing his hands to put them behind him. the paramedics moved to y/n, prioritizing her illness and the danger she was in.

buck was physically held back by other officers, just wanting to run in and save y/n. he knew the night would be bad, but he never imagined that he’d lose her. when jonah walked out of the house, being held by two burly officers, the next events of the night unfolded. bobby stood over jonah, swinging a clean punch across his face. that became a blur, though, when the small wheels of the stretcher came into view.

her eyes were shut, her body was unnaturally relaxed. hen, chimney, and eddie all watched it unfold, looking at buck and his glossy eyes. bobby stood hand in hand with athena, who looked at the man completely in love with y/n crumple to pieces. buck didn’t bother to look back, he didn’t hesitate to climb into the ambulance.

he looked at her body, feeling nothing but guilt and horror. he couldn’t manage to say anything, even if she could hear him. she was already broken, and he felt like he would just make it worse. bucks been to hell and back, having to deal with extreme stress his whole life. nothing compares to watching y/n in this position, and he wishes he could trade places.

the grueling hours sitting next to her were almost unbearable. the agony of watching her body fight against her mind was something buck could barely take. his sister had arrived, hands on his shoulders and hugging him whilst he cries silently. the doctors and nurses came in and out, switching medications and checking her vitals.

it seemed like no one had an answer. an answer as to why this happened, or how it’ll be fixed. the only thing they could do is observe as bucks favorite person, and the teams closest friend, was in a questionable state. she was safe from jonah, but not from the recovery and wrath of what he’d done.

the doctors came in, trying to speak to buck but maddie was taking the information instead, buck being unable to handle it.

“we’ve tested the drugs in her system, and they match up with what we thought it was,” the doctor adds. “i have no problem believing that she’ll be alive, but we found some more complications the more we looked into it.”

buck looked up at that word, wondering what else could’ve happened. “complication? what complications?”

“she was born with a pre-existing heart condition. when mr. greenway pushed the drugs, and continued to bring her in and out of arrest, it caused the condition to be brought up as an issue.”

“but she’ll be ok, right?” maddie interrupts.

“she’ll be alright,” the doctor tells the siblings who looked back at y/n’s still body, her hand in bucks. “we’re going to have to keep a very close eye on her. she might be living with more day-to-day problems than before.”

bucks sighs, not wanting to hear anymore. he thinks about when she wakes up, how angry and upset she’ll be. nothing was her fault, but he knows how her mind works. if she never dug into jonah, none of this would’ve happened. her career and her life was at risk, and she doesn’t know how to live without working. so, he just waits. he contains himself, preparing to be a comfort for her as he tries to be patient for her to wake up.

when her tired eyes were finally opened, she smiled at the sight of him. buck exhaled in relief, finally being able to breathe when he saw her able to exist again. “i guess he really did it this time,” she mumbles out, putting a frown on bucks face.

“he’s gone, now,” he tries to make matters better, but it doesn’t really help. “but you’re awake, that’s the best thing that could happen right now.”

“what’s wrong?”

“what?” buck looks at her, confusion written on his face. “you- you almost died, y/n. you did, a few times pretty much! he tried to kill you.”

“but i’m okay now.”

“y/n,” he starts, looking sadly at her. “the amount of shit he put into you…” he pauses, trying to figure out how to tell her. “your condition, it’s more severe now.”

“what do you mean more severe?” her face has fallen again, the scared disposition returning.

“the doctor said it’ll start to appear more in your life as an issue. you’ll have more symptoms.” he notices the increasing anxiety in her eyes, feeling terrible that he had to tell this to her. “hey, listen,” he says when he notices her starting to spiral in her own head. “you’re alive. you’re safe now.”

“but what does this mean? what about work? i’ve been fine for all these years, my life can’t just change overnight,” she cries, feeling unexplainable emotion.

“we’ll figure it out, i promise,” he lifts her hand, planting his lips on it while trying to bring her back down. “you and me, no matter what.”

days turned into weeks in the hospital. the doctors were too unsure about her condition to send her home without being supervised. every day, she was sent in for tests and more blood was taken. it became a new, awful pattern of being stuck in the four walls of her hospital room. she tried to entertain herself alone, but she just wanted her man. the man who keeps her safe, the one who makes her happy. now, she was left with visits between shifts and texts and calls.

buck was there every day, eventually having to go back to work after a few weeks. he tried to be there for every treatment, trying to take off work to be there with her. she wanted to be at work with him, doing what she loved and saving people’s lives. buck reminds her every day about the people she saved from jonah. he’s there when she falls asleep, holding her hand and whispering sweet nothings to her as she drifts off.

she couldn’t do any of this without buck and even her team. every time they all came around to see her, the day became brighter and she felt better. she waited for the day she could leave and go back to her regular life, but having the love of her life next to her made it a little more tolerable.

[anopenbookunderlockandkey]

The 118 Sauce Chat

Eddie: I definitely make spaghetti sauce extremely wrong but I’m not going to stop

Chim: please elaborate on the wrong way to make spaghetti sauce; it sounds highly entertaining?

Eddie: 1 chop onion and put in a pot

Eddie: Add 1 or 2 cans of diced tomatoes. Whatever makes the ratio of onion look right.

Eddie: Add a ridiculous amount of frozen peas. Peas should make up a notable portion of this sauce.

Eddie: Add frozen corn also if you wanna be real fancy. If I have bacon I’ll ad that too. But I very rarely have bacon.

Eddie: Cook on HIGH

Eddie: While sauce is cooking, grab the nearest bottle of mixed spices that isn't obviously for desserts. Add some. How much? I dunno, enough that you feel like you've added seasoning so it's technically cooking. (For me this is most often a mix called Moroccan, but it could be anything. Buck reorganised my kitchen recently so tonight it was something called Pizza Topping.)

Eddie: If you happen to have green herbs lying around, add those too. Whatever you have on hand that's green

Eddie: Let the sauce boil on HIGH until all the water is gone. Stir occasionally so the saucepan will be easier to clean later. Serve on cooked spaghetti noodles with no cheese

Eddie: Today I added a new step called "while the sauce is cooking, duck out for 15 seconds to text the group chat about spaghetti sauce, then get distracted and forget you are cooking." This adds a novel Extremely Burnt edge to the flavour profile.

Chim: I am not Italian, or of Italian descent by *any* stretch of the imagination.

I am also not one of those "cooking purists", who believes that everything must be done in a specific/ traditional way (unless you are making a cooking video with the title "how to make x" in which case if you don't specify mid video that your way is not traditional god help you).

I am a firm believer in "If it tastes good, then it is correct for you".

Chim: Except in this case

Bobby: This hurts every cooking bone in my body. The latent ancestors in my soul. The judgmental elf in my brain just bit a cyanide capsule

Hen: Why? The spices.

Using a different spice mix every time, based on what is ready at hand just ... hurts

Eddie: *sends SPICE IS SPICE meme*

Ravi: absolutely deranged, Eddie. Food crimes.

Bobby: Hey Eddie, looks like you forgot to mention the part where you obviously sweated the onions, because nobody would make spaghetti sauce that had straight up raw onions boiled in tomato juices.

Bobby: RIGHT????

Bobby: Please Eddie

Eddie: I don’t know what sweating the onions means

Hen: It means. It means you cook em a little in a pan with a bit of oil first

Eddie: A pan? How many dishes do you want me to have to wash here?

Hen: I mean you can also do it in the same pot you're making the spaghetti sauce in! The important thing is the onions get a little cooked before the wet stuff goes in, so they're not so wet and limp and boiled....

Eddie: Honestly this depends entirely on whether I remember to chop an onion first or I find the can opener for the tomatoes first. The ingredients go in in whatever order they go in.

Ravi: Eddie, who hurt you???

Eddie: A pack of wild chefs herded my mother off a cliff

Chim: Theres probably a hit out on you for this

Eddie: What kind of stupid idiot would waste money assassinating someone who's so clearly going to accidentally poison themself for free at some point

Bobby: hi Eddie, big fan of your firefighting, this is the sauce equivalent of the running up a metal ladder in a lightning storm to try to pull up a 6’0” tall man instead of lowering him to the ground

-Athena

Eddie: Athena, that is the meanest review my cooking has ever received

Chim: congratulations you found the worst way to do it! this feels like a spaghetti recipe made by AI before it got really sophisticated

-Maddie

Eddie: this group chat’s hate mail game is insane

Ravi: at this point please just eat every ingredient raw… please

Eddie: Do I look like Tony Abbott to you

Buck: As a former Committer of Food Crimes, I have decided to make this sauce this weekend after I have a chance to go to the store. I will report back.

Eddie: Excellent, I look forward to vindication.

Hen: No one's going to vindicate your boiled onion in cinnamonny tomato juice on noodles, Eddie

Eddie: Not cinnamon. Cinnamon is a dessert spice. You use the nearest non-dessert spice.

Ravi: cinnamon is absolutely not a dessert spice

Eddie: Yes it is! It's for muffins and pancakes and fruit pies!

Chim: Cinnamon powder is absolutely a dessert “spice” and Eddie if your cooking is this bad I can’t imagine your baked abominations

Eddie: I put lemon juice in everything I bake that isn't bread

Written for the only two gremlins (endearment) who find this as entertaining as I do @professionalprocrastinator22 and @gravelyhalversobbing

Inspired by:

[cloveroctobers]

DECEMBER PROMPTS 🧊 — 2. EVAN BUCKLEY

A/N: spoke it into existence and we get to see the 118 in just a few months! Too excited but disappointed about station 19. Anyways…here’s something fun??? and a little more my speed for the holidays.

PROMPT IS FROM HERE + I’m using: 20.) Caught Under the Mistletoe (teasing, shy, “It’s tradition”)

Synopsis: in which a moody reader wishes they could spend the holidays elsewhere and away from “the most wonderful time of the year,”…until Buck decides to walk through their childhood home.

WARNINGS: reader isn’t a Christmas lover by any means + going through a breakup—10 points for you if you can place the connection, language, family resentment & use of y/n + also gender-neutral friendly!

*GIF BELONGS TO @fireladybuckley !!!

❆⋆꙳•☃︎⋆꙳•✩⋆꙳•❅ ❆⋆꙳•☃︎⋆꙳•✩⋆꙳•❅ ❆⋆꙳•☃︎⋆꙳•✩

There were a combination of things that irritated you and Christmas happened to be one of them. Your family was one of those families that happened to be obsessed with Christmas and any sort of gathering, always have been and probably always will be—until they leave this earth. They were the neighbors that were welcoming to any and everyone and encouraged people to come on over with any shindig they threw. Unfortunately for you, you got stuck with attending this Christmas gathering because you moved back to Rhode Island right after you quit being a firefighter.

It was still a topic of many gossiping conversations with your mom’s “good friend,” deciding to bring it up in the living room, “y/n, do you ever want to be married? When are you going to start having a family of your own? Surely you must have found someone in sunny LA?”

Little did she know you did and in Chicago. You were surprised your mother took your boundaries into consideration when sharing certain information to her good friend…or did she know and was simply trying to get a rise out of you? Miriam was “good” at doing that.

You never liked Miriam, sorry not sorry. Mainly because she always had a opinion and liked to compare you to your older siblings. Your older brother was finally engaged to his long time girlfriend who had a face of a model, worked for a successful tech company, while also being a composer on the side and always had a good head on his shoulders. Then the middle child, your older sister was pregnant with twins and recently stepped down from being a pilot after almost fifteen years; was always the charmer and “favorite” according to friends of the family.

“I’ll start as soon as you stop scamming the elderly into marrying you so you can collect a check after they pass,” you smiled sweetly at Miriam, who’s mouth dropped and your older sister fought back a snicker from beside you in the sitting room, “I’m going to get a refill.”

You were just thankful your mother wasn’t near to hear this but you were sure with the snitch she called a best friend, she would repeat it and you would get a earful at some point tonight. Nonetheless you received a wink from your god-father and dad’s best friend up ahead, who was the designated pianist of the night and just finished up a tune by Nat King Cole.

Judah, your godfather was always lending a ear to listen since you were young and it seemed to still be the same sentiment more than your own parents but! That’s a different story for another day. You had to relish in the overload of wreaths that decorated every cabinet in your childhood kitchen, lightly scoffing and shaking your head as you filled up the flute with more champagne.

Sure you didn’t want to spend the holidays sulking but it only seemed to kick in more once people always felt the need to butt into your life. They didn’t speak on your accomplishments because it was never deemed as good enough, it was always a rule to follow into your family’s footsteps. Your mom’s a respectable elementary school teacher who hosts book clubs on Sunday’s with once strangers turned friends, your dad builds sailboats and is heavy involved in charity work and not just to say he did it but because of his own tough upbringing, your brother’s traveling all over the world due to his craft of being a composer and is so in love with his soon to be wife Alani, who’s also involved in building medical centers for poor communities—not just on her native land of Hawaii but countries as well, and your sister always knows just what to say to any and everyone, she’s so likable and building her family with a great guy, who isn’t just putting on for the cameras since he happens to be a well-known athlete.

Then there’s you…the sibling that’s just floating through life at thirty-one years old. Back at home with their parents after giving up a job that you thought you saw yourself doing up until retirement. Your head’s always been in the clouds but when your eyes were set on something you weren’t ever afraid to give it a try. Thats exactly what you did choosing to go to the academy out in California and worked your ass off to be a firefighter. You weren’t a fan of what people said after your severe injury…you just wanted to move on and always felt like you would be a firefighter at heart no matter what.

Most didn’t get that and it wasn’t okay with you but that didn’t stop you from putting one finger in the air.

Life will always lead you places and Rhode Island wasn’t your first choice but it was your best choice with the way the world shifts. Which is why you just wanted to get this holiday over with so it didn’t feel like you were constantly sinking from the inside out. The pretty lights, delicious eats, spending time with family, and finding joy was supposed to be a given but instead you were just ready to kick this year to the fucking curb for good.

If anyone asked you, New Years was way better because you can always start over especially if the year prior was not it for you. However one good thing came out of this year, you were one step closer to getting that home in New Mexico.

It took drumming on the counter to bring you out of your thoughts, making you snap your eyes at your brother who had a wicked grin on his round face. After pulling a face, you side eyed him, “what, Marcus?”

“Is that anyway to talk to your big brother?” He leaned against the counter, at pure ease.

Sipping at the flute, the bubbly went down nicely before you popped your tongue at the after taste then you responded, “what did you do?”

The thirty-seven year old sighs, “I didn’t do anything but you might want to send that energy to Larissa.”

Quickly glancing over your shoulder, you craned your neck to see back into the sitting room but couldn’t see your very pregnant sister anywhere. Shrugging your shoulders you turn back to the amusement on your brother’s face, “I don’t see her anywhere, so stop with the games and just spill.”

The both of you turned to the new voice that enters the kitchen from the left, “There you are! Look who I’ve found outside.”

If there was one person you wanted to push into the fireplace, now make it two, meaning you adding your sister to that list. Your eyes burned into her pretty beaming smile as she lightly jabbed a thumb in Evan Buckley’s direction. From behind them you spotted your brother-in-law, Kheri ready to enter the kitchen from the same opposite end but abruptly stopped as he easily picked up on what was happening and spun back around, hoping not to be seen by Larissa.

“Uh hey, y/n.” Evan awkwardly waved in your direction before you clenched your eyes shut and deeply exhaled.

Marcus whispers from your right, “that’s what.”

“I got it, Mark.” You hissed while he raised his hands in surrender, letting out a low whistle that sounded just perfect.

Evan glanced back and forth between the siblings, frowning, “I’m getting the sense that you were blindsided about me coming.”

A cackle bubbled past your lips while Larissa bounced on her toes, “I may have forgotten to mention it but when a party is going on…you just get wrapped up in so many other things.”

Evan nodded his head at this but he didn’t entirely believe that.

“Bullshit,” Marcus coughed out before smiling at Evan.

Larissa added, “I thought that you would be happy to see a friendly face here, y/n. I mean—you hate everyone else so…voila! You’re welcome.”

You declared, “If you weren’t pregnant with my nephews, I might just beat your ass to sleep with a lump of coal.”

“Hot coal or cold?” Larissa hummed, tapping her dimpled chin.

You scoffed, “I’d let you pick bitch.”

“How sweet,” Larissa winked as she turned back to pat Evan on the shoulder, “as you can see, this is a loving household and you’re only going to make it better for my dear sibling. So thank you so much for coming, Evan Buckley.”

Evan tilted his head to the side at this whole interaction, breathing out a laugh, “well…you kinda bullied me to so…”

“Oh is that how the conversation went down?” Marcus shoved some chips into his mouth, ignoring the glare you sent him.

“But,” Evan added, “I wanted to be here, it was the right thing to do and I missed you guys. Not really the east coast since it’s pretty damn cold here, man i keep forgetting that but it’s always nice to see a white Christmas and some faces that feel like home you know?”

Larissa placed her hand on her chest, “now wasn’t that beautiful, y/n?”

“So beautiful that I almost want to vomit on you, Larissa.” You coo at the Bob-wearing woman while Marcus continues watching this match.

Larissa scowled, “stop being a Scrooge and just be glad that Otis was busy.”

*Jazz music stops playing*

“What?” You gritted at the mention of your recent breakup.

Flights out to Chicago tended to get pricer and tricker during the whole pandemic but lucky for you, you managed your money much better now.

“Wrong thing to say,” Marcus mumbles, seeming to be the only one in the room that was aware that this was a touchy subject.

Swallowing you turned to the eldest in the room, “Did you know about that too, Mark?”

Marcus sighs, “I was there for that conversation yes…but I didn’t think Rissa was serious about Buckley after the call with Otis didn’t exactly work out.”

You couldn’t grasp why they—Larissa would think it would be okay to go behind your back and call Otis in the first place?!

“Is this what you’re gonna be like now, Ris? Trying to mold my love life and be in my business because you’re too bored with motherhood?” You snapped at the thirty-five year old who looked taken aback.

Larissa slowly speaks, “woow! That was kinda hurtful…I was just trying to do something nice because you always get like this around this time of the year and I figured a person you deeply adore would cheer you up but obviously I was wrong.”

Deeply adore felt like another stab to you.

Holding your hands out, you say enough just by that action which makes Larissa roll her eyes. She turns to the sea eye colored man and says, “Good luck with that one, the sticks pretty far up their ass this evening.”

Laughing to yourself, you don’t bother watching your sister leave the kitchen and turn back to the fridge in search of the desserts instead.

“Well…that was not as entertaining as I would have liked but you know that comment wasn’t cool right?” Marcus says while you send him a middle finger from inside the fridge, “noted but you better be over this damn attitude by the morning.”

Here you are in your thirties and you still had your brother thinking he can boss you around.

He says a few words to Buck and once the coast is clear, you spin back around to place the fruitcake on the large island counter. Just staring at the dessert makes you further nauseous and you motion with your eyes, “want a slice?”

“…only if you’ll join me?” Evan sucks air through his teeth, trying to put on a smile although it was more of a grimace.

You snicker, “don’t say what you think I want to hear. I wouldn’t feed this to Dudley.”

Evan begins to look around at the mention of the old bloodhound, “no way! He’s still alive?”

“Very much and probably sticking up the house somewhere away from everyone,” you laugh at the thought of the gassy dog as you pick up the cake, analyzing it in disgust before making your way to the garbage.

Evan nodded, “Ah so like it’s owner?”

“Watch it Buckley,” you wag a finger at him, “you just got here and you’re already talking shit to me?”

“I thought that’s what friends are for?” He shows off his laughter lines before taking a seat on one of the the bar stools, while you glanced at the flute and expensive champagne bottle before choosing the bottle it’s self, “…I would ask how’ve you been but I don’t know what kind of answer I’m going to get.”

Shrugging your shoulders you take a swing from the bottle and go into a two step as, “Holly Jolly Christmas,” beings to play making Buck shake his head at you playfully, “just jolly can’t you tell? I mean we haven’t spoken in months since I left LA—

“Right,” Buck agreed, “I wanted to give you some space and I thought I was being a good friend giving you that, although there were plenty of times where I just wanted to hear your voice.”

You snort, “don’t get mushy on me, Ev.”

Evan sighs, “and you ghosted me a few times.”

“Out of the respect of your relationship with Taylor—

“You didn’t even like Taylor or Abby?” Evan frowns, “and that was before we decided to give each other a try and with you debating about quitting after what happened at the parking garage.”

Long story short: you were at the 118 six months before Evan Buckley ends up walking through the doors. At the beginning you had everyone fooled with the way you gave him the cold shoulder in the beginning, as if your mothers weren’t the best of friends and you didn’t alternate summers between Rhode Island and Pennsylvania. You were forced to be friends but it’s not ever something you truly regretted. It’s like Toy Story, you had a friend in Buck and that was something you were thankful for. The both of you bonded over just being in the moment and while he was more impulsive than you, you found your footing just a bit earlier than he did.

You went to California as soon as you reached eighteen and fell in love with it that you didn’t ever want to come back. You didnt have dreams of being a firefighter but you were always passionate about having a positive impact on someone’s lives and fighting fires didn’t sound so bad. By the time you came back after visiting and being forced to go to the community college for half a semester, you withdrew and left without a word. It took a shared phone call from Buck and Maddie to get you to answer, with Maddie pleading with you just to call your parents whereas Buck encouraged you to keep going.

Shortly after, he was traveling around the world and sending you postcards too. Evan was always just your friend that you spent summers with then holidays and then birthdays to speaking on AIM if not every day then every other day. It was clear that the both of you were meant to be in each others lives…until you made the terrible decision to catch feelings. Out of all of the years that you’ve known this guy, you just had to feel a way—despite him fooling around on the job, which you tore into him more than bobby did. From random hook ups to potentially serious relationships—that you never agreed with, you just had to do it and you were stubborn and fought it for so long.

Having your face almost crushed by concrete would do it to you. You didn’t know if you were going to make it, that was your real taste of death—although you got hurt on the job before this was the one that really had you questioning everything. The team outside of the parking garage tried to keep Buck from getting to you but if there’s a will, there’s a way. You tried to blame it on the partially crushed skull once Buck brought it back up at not the best timing—after physical therapy but he was firm and stood on the words shared.

He broke up with Taylor, you told him to give it time and if he truly still felt the same months later, you’d give it a go. He respected that and once you were back to normal as you can be, it happened and it was short lived because you didn’t take the topic of marriage with him seriously. And it had nothing to do with what he thought.

Evan Buckley was always good enough, if not more.

“It was better getting used to the idea of not being in each others lives.” Was what you went with.

Evan pressed his arms onto the counter, “what do you mean?”

Sipping from the bottle again you state, “you must have felt the same way I felt when I got the news that you were struck. Like time is only temporary. We’ve known each other since we were what? Fourteen-fifteen? And sure that feels like forever but it really just means it starts over.”

Evan stares at you from underneath his eyelashes, “so…declining our friendship was the better answer for you?”

“Oh I’d think we’d always be friends…even if there’s distance.”

“That you created.” Evan points out, “I didn’t think you believed in alternate universes.”

You swallow, “I didn’t, until you told me what it was like in that coma.”

“Then you left…to be with Otis.” Evan fills in the blanks while wiggling his eyebrows which makes you scoff, “want to talk about it?”

You blink, “I just told my sister to mind her business…do you want me to deliver the same thing? Let’s catch up and focus on you…I’m surprised you’re not in PA.”

“I let Maddie and chim deal with that.” Evan says, “Christmas Eve was enough for me and poor Jee, I should have taken her with me.”

Resting your chin against the palm of your hand you say, “that bad huh?”

“Ah the usual. You know how parents can be,” Evan chats, “they’re really pushing to meet Natalia.”

Squinting you try to recall the name as Evan informs, “right…uh someone I met on the scene. She’s a death doula.”

“A what?”

“Someone who helps people who are facing death find peace with it. Like the good version of what a hospice is supposed to be.” Buck tells, coming to terms that there has been gaps in what they should know, yet this was what you wanted apparently.

Tapping against the glass you say, “and she’s your…girlfriend?”

“Well, yeah.” Buck smiles a bit while you hum, taking a swing from the bottle, “what was that response?”

You shrug, “just surprised your parents would want to meet her…does Maddie like her?”

“She doesn’t not not like her.” Evan frowned.

“How long have you been dating?”

“Not long…uh what’re you getting at?”

“Look, I don’t know her and I’m not going to further rain on anybody’s parade but just be careful. Take your time you know?”

Evan scratches at his birth mark above his brow and huffs, “thought you were a big believer in time not lasting forever and starting over…That’s what I’m doing.”

Nodding your head you say, “I’m not judging you.”

“Good because my plan wasn’t to argue with you here at your childhood home in the kitchen on Christmas.” Buck tells as he takes in the decor, “We can hash anything else out at a later date because it’s the most wonderful time of the year right? I’m here until the 31st by the way.”

“When exactly did you drop in?”

“The 21st.”

“Oh you’re staying for awhile.”

“I think I should.” He waved his hand for the bottle which he takes a swing at and lets out a deep burp, excusing himself with a grin after you scrunch up your nose.

Snatching the bottle back you leave it unattended as you peek through the trays of food, thinking about another round since the preview of desserts were lackluster.

“Huh,” Buck says now peering above his head, “when did that get up there?”

Turning you attention back to a old friend in the maroon sweater, you follow his gaze to the mistletoe hanging from the ceiling above his head. “Which one of your siblings pulled this one?”

“Don’t think that was their doing honestly,” you reputed, “feels very traditional and something my dad would do.”

Evan thinks about it and seems to agree, remembering how affectionate the man tended to be back then. “Well…it’s tradition and we shouldn’t break it.”

“Don’t know if you notice Ev, I thought the all black attire would be a giveaway but I simply do not care about this holiday.”

“I’ve noticed—

“And didn’t you just say you have a girlfriend? I can kiss anybody else and tend to very soon.” You almost went into a daydream state of the all the possible contenders you’d lock lips with in just a few days.

“True but who are you going to find that’s as gorgeous as me?” Buck challenged as he placed a hand on his chest.

“Did Eddie fly in with you guys?”

“That’s not funny.”

“So you cross the line at your work husband but not nat the death doula?” You quizzed the tousled haired man.

“Why are you giving her a whole title like that?”

“It’s Natalia’s profession…?”

“Yeah but nobody calls you: y/n the retired firefighter turned air traffic controller.”

“You don’t know that and you just did.”

Buck felt his eye twitch, “I was giving an example!”

“Hey, inside voices! The singing and music is loud enough. Not to mention the carolers that will be here by eight and will probably give me nightmares tonight—

Evan shakes his head, “no I don’t think you understand. We have to kiss or else it’s going to bring bad luck in our love lives for who knows how long and I could really use a consistent love and what better person to do that with than you.”

One thing about Buck, he was a thousand percent superstitious but that wouldn’t stop you from poking fun.

“Evan Matthias Buckley…are you flirting with me?” You tease as you caress the counter while slowly make your way around the island.

The man appears almost shy now as you grip his face, taking in the features you’ve come to known and appreciate. Evan was still him regardless of the miles you put in between each other. With his hands now on your waist you enjoyed the moment because face it, it was always nice to be held, so you stared into his eyes for a moment and then his tulip tinted lips.

Lips that you didn’t mind on yours or anywhere on your body once upon a time…until you self sabotaged. You could have married evan and would have in a heartbeat but you also felt marriage wasn’t for you. You didn’t want to fuck that up just like you did everything else.

And that wasn’t really true, that’s just the bad parts of your brain getting in the way but you were working it out in therapy. However a smile was on your lips now that you pressed your forehead to the man that’s seen all sides to you before and you could have sworn Evan was holding his breath, just wondering how this would work.

Yet he was the one insisting that they share a kiss!

Caressing the scruff that was along his jaw, you lightly pinched his face, holding him in place as you put a lingering kiss right beside the corner of his lips. The deflation was evident and you didn’t know whether to take that as relief or disappointment but Evan pulled you into a hug filled with warmth anyway.

Which you welcomed, arms locked around his broad shoulders before resting a hand on the back of his head. He squeezed you just right and if you wanted to be in your soft era tonight, you may have shed a tear but pushing that to the side felt better for now. It’s been awhile but you didn’t want to cross that line especially if things were serious with Natalia.

Evan didn’t know about Otis or how you were battling moving on from that but he’ll take what he can get from you. Whenever you were ready then he’d always be around and that’s something he wanted to remind you of but being here with you on this holiday—even if you were being a complete grinch about it! felt like he made the right decision.

“You know Ev Bev,” you started as you pulled back but kept your hands locked around his shoulders, “has anyone ever told you that you reek of spruce?

Evan blinks, “no one’s ever told me I smell like a tree before…but considering the job? I’m not offended.”

“Well I am. You’re supposed to boycott all things Christmas with me if you still consider yourself my bestie,” you shook your head in sorrow.

You’re ready to untangle yourself but Evan just tightens his arms around you, leaning forward to get a whiff of you, “and you smell like fruitcake.”

Faux gagging gets Evan to widen his eyes and loosen his grip, “don’t make me sick—

“I think that’s enough champagne for you.”

“You’re right, it has my toes buzzing but I can definitely go for something stronger which my parents don’t have but I’ll sneak out before the Carolers get here to get some.”

“Or…you can find the true beauty in Christmas that doesn’t have anything to do with alcohol.” Evan offered while you gave him a unimpressed stare, “maybe next year then?”

“Oh I plan to as soon as the new year hits and I get some answers.” You unravel yourself from him and move to take a seat on the other velvet stool.

Evan holds his hands out, “…care to elaborate?”

“Sure, why the hell not? After spending too much time here and becoming financially stable, I’ve finally decided to buy a house.” You give jazz hands.

“That’s fantastic news!” Evan perks up, “Wait…does anybody else know?”

“Nope, just you my friend.” You sigh, “I should know if they accepted my offer by the 29th the realtor says but can expect some delays based on the stupid holidays so…fingers crossed.”

Evan snickers, “then that’s something to celebrate and I’m sure your family will be happy for you.”

“Maybe, maybe not. My decisions are always based on selfishness apparently.” You fold your hands, “I know the first thing that’s going to be said and then comes the guilt tripping but I don’t want to be in this place anymore. I’ve been here a good portion of my life and had to come back because the world decided to go apocalyptic. I’m tired of feeling stuck and New Mexico can be the freedom I’ve always been searching for.”

Evan took in your words carefully. He knew you weren’t always this down but stepping away as a firefighter definitely triggered that and the old childhood insecurities resurfaced living here again although you tried to bury them. He’s been around the world while your family tried to keep you sheltered—even into your adulthood, you were always the one who wanted something different than them. Evan saw that the first day he met you and instantly took a liking to you, although it took more convincing on your end. New Mexico was far from Rhode Island but not too bad from Los Angeles.

“It will be and we’ll make the best of it.” Evan squeezed the tension from between your shoulder blades.

Looking at him you echo, “we?”

“Do you really think you can keep hiding from me? Now that you let me back in, you’re not getting rid of me again.” Evan grinned in excitement while you groaned, “We have a house to plan for, like when’s the expected move in date when you’re approved?”

You shrugged, “realtor man Danny didn’t tell me that exactly but if I had to guess, probably sometime in February.”

“That works,” Evan nods, “if it falls around Maddie’s birthday I might just suggest New Mexico.” He winks at you while you scoff.

“Don’t you think you’re jumping the gun? Who’s to say I’d even give you my address?”

Despite saying this you knew Buck would always find a way and it’s not something you were truly against. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss seeing him around but ultimately that was your choice.

“Ouch, that’s no way to treat the guy that’s had your back since we were kids and is about to make you a mean peppermint mocha.” Evan says in a sing song tone as he drums on the table before sliding down from the chair.

Tilting your head at the thought you reply, “will it be spiked?”

Evan shakes his head as he makes his way over to the espresso machine, “I’m trying to save your liver so that’ll be a negative.”

“Boooo! Buck sucks more than Santa! Tomato, tomato.” You gave a thumbs down as Evan chuckles to himself.

Buck was attempting to bring you holiday cheer, you could feel yourself sort of exhaling as you watched him move around the kitchen. Whenever Evan was around, it usually felt like putting the negative on pause because you tended to forget about it for awhile thanks to his infectious spirit.

“Are you two playing nice?” The voice of your brother, Mark fills the room as he enters the kitchen once more and now holding the hand of his fiancée, Alani who teasingly scrunches her nose up with a smile at you two.

Throwing your head back, you sigh, “as nice as I can be, Marcus.”

“That’s not saying much,” he goes to elbow Buck jokingly, who nods with a shrug.

Alani takes the seat beside you, “so…what we really want to know is, did you guys share a kiss and decide to fall deeply in love with each other?”

“Lani!” Marcus warns while the curly haired woman lifts her shoulders.

You laugh, “and this is why I’ve always liked you Lanz, you’re never on any bullshit, unlike Mark and Ris.”

“Yikes, I’m not touching that one.” Alani reached for the champagne bottle.

“You may have actually made her cry by the way,” Marcus announces making Evan peer at you over his shoulder.

Turning your eyes into slits you question, “made who cry?”

“Larissa.”

You huff, “she pissed me off.”

“Yeah but you didn’t have to attack her motherhood which she has yet to really experience…” Marcus states and you take a breath.

You knew that comment was harsh but you never lacked a back bone. When anyone got on your nerves, you were going to tell them and didn’t care who they were or where you were. It’s a defense mechanism and yes that was something else you were working on.

“I’ll make up with her after I get into this spiked peppermint mocha.” You grinned in content.

Evan corrects, “how many times do I have to tell you, it’s not spiked?”

“Until you change your mind, sugar plum.”

“Yuck,” Marcus laughs while Alani smirks.

Sooner than later, Buck is handing out four cups of peppermint mocha and crouches over the counter beside you as you all take in the festive drink while, “Deck the halls,” starts to play for the sixth time this evening. Normally you would be considering sticking your head inside of the oven or making your severe allergic reaction act up by eating a gingerbread cookie just so you could get out of listening to this boring music but somehow you tune it out.

Physical touch was how Buck liked to be loved so you didn’t think much of it as you looped a hand around the crease of his arm. acts of service was how he gave love. He glanced over at you while you listened to whatever your brother was blabbing about and when you caught his stare, you thought to yourself, maybe reconnections should have been on your wishlist.

A tender peppermint kiss to your temple was enough to solidify that and this time? You fought the urge to playfully smack Evan’s scruffy jaw to get off you and allowed the affection from the man you knew for years.

You let the love soak in, as cheesy as it sounds but isn’t that what Christmas is all about?

Who really knows?

You’re more of a New Year’s Eve lover anyway…

❆⋆꙳•☃︎⋆꙳•✩⋆꙳•❅ ❆⋆꙳•☃︎⋆꙳•✩⋆꙳•❅ ❆⋆꙳•☃︎⋆꙳•✩

Check back for my ~5 days of Xmas~ anthology prompts here.

[2stepadmiral]

Something I love about Luke, Leia, and Han is that before the Skywalker twins reached their mid twenties, the trio shared about three braincells.

I mean, before the Death Star, Leia and Han probably had a respectable amount each (Leia needed to be smart as an up and coming Rebellion leader and Han definitely was clever as a smuggler and conman), but after that first argument in the detention hall in the middle of a desperate firefight that culminated in a dive into the trash compactor, some cosmic alignment of their inner natures mixed with the will of the Force resulted in both of them being brought down to Luke’s level.

Now, over the years, they all became much smarter and better at working together, but right from the death star onwards for the first few years, they shared about three brain cells. Individually, each of the three were in possession of maybe one at all times, and were decently competent on their own. Luke was a great pilot and field commander, Leia was a fine strategist and mission planner and inspirational leader, and Han, of course, was a very competent smooth talker and mechanic, as well as a brilliant pilot. But put them together in a room, or on a mission together, and usually one of them is going to end up with all three brain cells while the others are up on their shit.

Luke usually ends up with the brain cells when Han and Leia are bickering. The slightest thing sets them off, and suddenly Luke is the voice of reason, which she is very much not used to being.

“I thought you said this was a shortcut, not the front doorstep to an Imperial station for the sector.”

“Hey, I’ve slipped through this way a dozen times before, and never had any trouble. You were supposed to be monitoring the base.”

“Oh, sure, captain, blame me for you forgetting there is an imperial outpost over here.”

“ < exasperated sigh> Alright, Chewie, let’s power up the guns, and hope that these two don’t crash into a Star Destroyer.”

When Leia has all three, it’s usually because Han is on some reckless Corellian daredevil kick, and Luke is in adventure crazed teenager living his dream mode and is too focused on his x-wing or his squadron to see the big picture. Both mindsets are often at least indirectly because of the influence of Wedge Antilles and Tycho Celchu.

“Luke, stop fiddling with your X-wing, we have a scouting mission.

“One second land, I’ve almost got the inertial dampeners just where I need them. Wedge and I were talking, and I think if we have these in sync during our next mission, we should be able to reduce drag by 1.56%.”

“You can finish when we get back.”

“ Wait, we’re not taking Rogue Squadron?”

“<sigh> what part of scouting mission did you miss? and where is Han?”

“I think he’s with Wedge and Tycho.“

“Oh no. What laser brain stunt did they dare him to try this time?“

“…Well, they might’ve said something about flying the falcon through the gap of an imperial two communication tower?”

“Kriffing Corellians. And you didn’t think to order Wedge and Tycho to stay away from Han?”

“…Han is good for squadron morale.”

“<sigh>”

And on the disturbingly, frequent occasions were Han is in possession of the brain cells, it is, without fail, because Leia is in full devotion to the cause of the rebellion mode, and Luke is in strange-mystic-Jedi-shit-is-calling-me-and-I-must-answer-the-call mode.

“Hey, princess, are you still on that Agamar campaign?”

“The people of Agamar need our help, Han. I need to figure out a way to neutralize these Golan batteries.”

“Um, sure, OK, but we’re currently on a completely different mission, and I kind of need you to be ready to mail the guns when we get there.”

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be just fine when we get to Ord Mantell.”

“Ord Mantell? Uh, this is a mission to Taris.”

“What? oh, you’re right, sorry. I’ve just planned so many of our next few missions, I kind of forgot, which one we’re on.”

“… When’s the last time you ate?”

“I’ll eat once I figured out how to bring down these Golan shields.”

“…Hey, Luke? Any chance you could talk her worshipfulness into having some rations? …Kid?”

“ what? oh, sorry, hon, I was reading this account on spirituality by Plo Koon, and I thought I might’ve heard Ben’s voice coming from the engine room.”

“…Ben Kenobi is dead, Luke.”

“I know, Han, but sometimes, I can hear his voice through the Force, guiding me, helping me. I’ve been trying to research why and have been reading these journals Ben had in his home on Tatooine, and…”

“Kid, when’s the last time you ate anything?”

“…, now that you mention it, I’m not sure.”

“…”

Moments like these are frequent until maybe half, and after Endor, these moments become very occasional and much more casual as the trio becomes closer and more accustomed to each other’s quirks.

“I thought you fixed the deflector oscillator before we left!”

“I did! Don’t blame me if the Alliance stuck me with substandard parts.”

“Save it for later, you two, or you’d better let me and Chewie take over while you sort it out. I have a Star Destroyers coming up on our bow, and Zsinj would love to hear that the Falcon was shot down.”

“Fair point, kid. Will discuss this later, princess.”

“Fine by me. I’ll try and get those shields dialed in.”

Or,

“Luke, I need you to come with us. I’m meeting with the Queen of Naboo, and I need you as an escort.”

“Sure, Leia. Let me just finish these adjustments and I’ll be ready to fly. Oh, no X-wing?”

“Not this time. Have you seen Han?”

“I think that he went to help Wedge and Tycho perform reflex tests on the new rogue squadron recruits. They should be down at the gorge.”

“With speed bikes, I presume?”

“I think so, but Han told me to tell you he would be careful. And wear a helmet.”

“Well, I guess that’s something.”

Or,

“Han, give me my data pad, I need to prepare for the meeting with the delegation from Ryloth.”

“The Twi’lek research can wait until you finish your supper, Leia. It’s in the gallery, I made plenty, and don’t come back until you’ve had at least two portions. You need to keep your strength up while you’re helping to build the New Republic. Mon Mothma can’t expect you to do everything without even having a proper meal every now and again.”

“… Can I continue while I eat?”

“Not until you’ve had at least one full plate. <sound of grabbing a holocron> You too, kid. You need to stop making me be the responsible one around here.”

“Han, you know that I can just grab that back from you with the Force?”

“Yeah, and what kind of message would that send to the galaxy about the new Jedi? They go around stealing holocrons instead of just eating their dinner like a normal person? Go on, have some food. I made some Karkan ribenes with tomo-spice.”

And right around the time they start figuring this dynamic out, they start to notice that Chewie is less irritated with the three of them. Little do they know, because, again, three brain cells shared between the three of them, that Chewbacca has been actively trying to loan them any of the hundreds of brain cells he’s accumulated over the course of his 200 year long Wookie life and has been furious with how unresponsive to his wisdom they have been.

[yakumtsaki]

Welcome back, beloved readers! Things have finally calmed down for me so it’s time to inflict this update on the world. When we last left off, BATSHIT FELINA SMASHED VICTORIA’S URN

-WHY IS IT NOT BROKEN?!?

Because it turned out there’s a cheat to repair urns, HA. In your face!

-I BROKE THAT THING FAIR AND SQUARE

Felina seriously, GO TO HELL. I freaked out thinking I’d have to either quit without saving (hadn’t saved since before SUGAR DIED) or I’d have to deal with Victoria’s missing character file. You’re not allowed anywhere near the mausoleum again! 

-THAT’S FINE, I’LL JUST TRAP MYSELF IN THIS WALL UNTIL I DIE AND THEN YOU’LL BE SORRY

Bruh. I’ve had enough of this house, between the walls of death..

..the eternal yard fire..

..and the fact everyone is afflicted with a gross cold they keep passing around despite the fact I gave them medicine-

-I, a retired Mayor, was clearly the right choice to make medicine.

Well I thought you might do something useful for once, Shajar, but joke’s on me. Point is, it’s time to gtfo..

..to our new gigantic house! Look at all our crap on the lawn, and yes, I’m referring to the sims. 

I unpaused for 1 second to check something and Barf and Failina (Barflina?) have re-become enemies?? Did you stop being enemies at some point because I completely missed it. 

-We did but new house, new us!

It’s done! I went all out on this house for no discernible reason, let me give you the grand tour:

First floor! Man this house is a nightmare. 

Foyer! 

Luxurious pet room!

Kitchen!

Dining room!

Gambling room Library!

And living room!

Moving on to the second floor, Cyn and Sophie/Shajar’s bedrooms I kept the basically same as in the last house. The unfinished bedroom is Sugar and Sandy’s for reasons that will be explained shortly. 

I really feel I made this house too nice for the Unions but what can you do. 

Felina and Barth’s rooms in their ~signature colors~

And Liz and Sophito’s bedroom which is clearly all Liz.

Finally, on the little rooms on the third floor are the music room that @microscotch​ decorated❤️, and a lame room where we keep all our career rewards!

The mausoleum, which is unchanged other than I moved the pet graves in it and put them under each generation..

..and this is the yard! I kept it pretty much the same except larger-

-and I added a lake! We’re all done, time to unpause and enjoy long, safe lives in our new house..

OMG WTF

-YOU CAN’T ADD A FLAMETHROWER IN THE MIDDLE OF A FOUNTAIN, MORON -EVERYONE KNOWS WATER CATCHES FIRE 

BRO. When I tell you guys the entire family almost perished in a FOUNTAIN FIRE. Incredibly fitting cause of death. Thankfully the firefighter heroically saved us and all is well! Now I can’t wait to play a billion sims and pets on this gigantic cc-filled lot with no further problems whatsoever!

Alright then! I had a feeling it might come to this, Sugar take Sandy and gtfo.

-I will but be warned, our absence won’t solve anything! 

Ya, it sure DIDN’T. GROSS. Finally I turned off shaders and it went away, ok Sug, you and Sandy can move back in..

..and we can begin the ENDLESS task of getting all the skill points you lost to zombiehood back. And once you’re back at the top of your career and Sandy tops hers you are OUTTA HERE, you hear me???

-Ya ya, how many times are you gonna kick me out and move me back in? Admit it already, you LOVE ME. 

Ok ‘love’ is a strong word-

-YOU CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT ME.

LET’S MOVE ON

It’s our first night in the new house and this is how Sophie and Shajar sleep. 

-Close enough for me. -I’d like another wall between us, actually.

#itsover

-Ah, nothing like that first sip of whiskey before school!

Ya Barth, I’m a little concerned about your aspiration bar.

-Ah, nothing like the first four glasses of whiskey after shcool!

Ya ok, we’re calling the matchmaker this weekend.

Jimbo (the puppy we adopted to mate with Veronica, I don’t remember if I introduced him) grows up and he looks ICONIC

The difference between their necks LOL

It’s Sophito’s birthday and Liz’s is in a few days, so it’s time to get started on their death portraits. What a cheerful gift, Cyn! 

Family reunion! Look at everyone all together, getting along..

..even Gunther came but completely ignored the party and went straight for the ballet bar, which legit made me emo, idk if you guys remember during generation 1 how obsessed he and Daniel were with the ballet bar, awww❤️ Alright, back to the party, go on Soph, blow your candles-

OH FFS

-SCREW YOU, FAILINA, IT’S BEYOND TIME TO HAVE OUR FIRST FIGHT IN THE NEW HOUSE  -AGREED, AND I CAN THINK OF NO BETTER MOMENT THAN THE ONE RIGHT BEFORE OUR FATHER BLOWS HIS CANDLES IN FRONT OF OUR ENTIRE FAMILY

Ok are you done?? Is this over?? Let’s try the cake again, Soph-

-Sorry, it’s time for me to finally reconnect with iVan, huhu!💗 -Awww, I’m so happy for you, grandma Cyn!

-DON’T BE TOO HAPPY, FAILINA -FUCKING BRAT, I HAD MY BACK TURNED

OK YOU KNOW WHAT, FORGET IT

HERE, HE’S GROWN UP. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SOPHITO 

-WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH THIS FAMILY~👻

Ya idk, Victoria, you tell me, it’s your amazing DNA at work. 

-YOU’RE AN EMBARASSMENT, BARTHOLOMEW  -Well that hurts, grandma! 

-Thankfully nothing a drink won’t fix!

Oh my- I’d like to clarify at this point that this goddamn party is still going on-

-when this simultaneous pet and human fight occurs:

It’s Jimbo vs Shinok..

..and Barflina vs human dignity.

-Oh no, babe, I can’t look! -How could this happen, we were such involved parents!!

And at the moment where Barth throws his sister through a window, the matchmaker rewards us with a genie lamp for treading the arduous path of excellence. I don’t know about you, but what I take from this is we are perfect and should never attempt to improve ourselves in any way! 

[russolover]

i don’t know whether you take requests or not but :

1 : reader is sarinas as daughter on camp and sees alessia crying so she goes and comforts her they then sneak around the rest of camp sharing secret kisses etc until someone sees them and sarina finds out.

2 : reader is a firefighter and part time footballer, they get called to a job that turns out to be alessia’s house and goes into the fire to save everyone including lessi, then she finds out less has no where to stay so offers her apartment and they fall in love.

Secrets

It was normality for you to go to camp with the lionesses since your aunt was their head coach.

Yes, Sarina Wiegman was not just a good coach but an even better aunt. She knew you were very interested in the medical aspect of the footballers which is why she always took you with her. The lionesses also loved having you there since you had a tendency for pranks which didn’t go unnoticed by Millie and Rachel.

You were friends with everyone but one particular blonde had you wrapped around her fingers and Sarina noticed that.

,,No pranks this time y/n, especially not with Rachel and Millie“

Your aunt said as you two were exiting the car to enter the camp grounds.

,,Come on it wasn’t that bad“

You laughed reminiscing on the time you Rach and Millie taped each door with clear foil making everyone run into it.

,,You even made the staff ran into it-

,,We, Aunt Sarina. It was clearly team effort“

She chuckled at your giddy behaviour, shaking her head.

,,Are you happy to see everyone?“

She asked

„I cannot wait, it feels like so much time has passed since you guys won the European championship“

„Totally, it’s going to be very nice. Excited to see Alessia?“

You didn’t have to look into her direction to see her smirk, you could feel it. Sarina found out during the afterparty when you’ve had one too many drinks and couldn’t stop talking about how pretty she looked and how amazing her strawberry smell was.

„I’m not going to answer that“

You mumbled as your whole face went red. Sarina only laughed as you both entered the building.

,,Sarina, Y/n!“

Leah exclaimed loudly as she pulled both of you in a big hug.

„Long time no see captain“

You chuckled giving the Milton Keynes queen a squeeze before letting her go.

„Way too long, why does your face look like that?“

She questioned, meaning the redness caused by your aunt from a few seconds ago. Sarina laughed while you tried to stutter out an excuse which didn’t go unnoticed by Leah.

„Hey Sarina! Y/n“

You recognised the familiar sweet voice call out your name. You turned around to be met with the beautiful Italian, who was occupying your mind for the past few months. Sarina gave Alessia a hug before going to greet some other staff. The Italian pulled you in a tight hug as you rested your arms around her back.

„You alright lessi?“

You whispered so only she could hear.

„Yeah, are you? I missed you“

She replied in the same tone as you.

„I missed you too and I’m great, can’t wait for the next few days“

You smiled letting go from the hug.

„Well I’ll see you around y/n“

The blonde said smiling at you as her nose scrunched up before going around to greet the rest of the team. You felt the butterflies taking over in your stomach as her smile replayed in your mind several times.

The next few days consisted of the same routine. You gaining some experience when it came to the medical wellbeing of the players, the players being busy with training and hanging out with everyone during the evening. You did hang out a lot with Alessia, probably more than with the rest of the team which didn’t go unnoticed.

Today was different though, the Italian was very reserved and didn’t talk much, usually she’d chew your ear off when watching a movie but she was busy pushing around the popcorn in the bowl, not even eating it. You guessed it was because of the little hit she’d taken from Training making her miss out on starting the first game. Before you could ask her she excused herself saying she was tired so she could go to bed but you knew her better than that.

It was currently 3am and you were still awake, mainly because of your unfinished coursework that was due in 10 hours but also because of the Italian.

You decided to go down and get some tea maybe it’ll help.

As you were walking around the corner you could hear sniffles which made you freeze on the spot.

,,I’ll try Gio“

Your favourite blonde whispered as her voice broke. It was clear that alessia was the one crying in the lounge room at 3am. You rounded the corner to be met with red puffy eyes.

You whispered as the tears rolling down her cheeks didn’t stop. The blonde lounged herself into your arms as soon as she heard you. You tried to rub circles on her back to calm her down since she was still crying.

„Alessia come here“

„hey it’s okay, whatever it is we got this“

You whispered trying to soothe her.

After a few minutes you managed to calm her down as she was still in your arms. Repeatedly kissing her temple seemed to even out her breathing as she completely relaxed into your hold now.

She nuzzled her face into your chest as she took a deep breath.

„thank you y/n“

„don’t need to thank me less, do you want to talk about it?“

You looked at her loosening your grip and sitting down on the couch patting down the space next to you. She joined you as she fiddled with her hands.

„Injuries just give me flashbacks to the UNC days where I broke my leg and couldn’t play for a year.. even if it’s just a small hit I just get scared“

She mumbled.

„Sounds a lot like ptsd to me less“

You replied softly giving her your hand so she could play with the rings on your hand rather than fiddling with hers. She looked at you gratefully before playing with the rings on your hand.

„Have you talked to anyone about it?“

She nodded her head as she told you about the talks she had with some of the coaching staff.

„I guess it just takes some time“

She whispered leaning back tiredly on the couch.

„It does but you’re lucky because you’re in the presence of Dr.Y/l/n“

You raised your eyebrow at her making her laugh.

„Right doctor what do you recommend?“

She chuckled at your behaviour.

„Not pressuring yourselves because everyone’s mental recovery journey is different“

You said as you watched her blue eyes soften

„how do you always know what to say?“

She asked as she turned her body into your direction, still playing with your rings.

There was a brief moment of silence as unspoken words were exchanged before you pulled the blonde closer.

Your hand resting on her hips drawing soothing circles into it.

„Less?“

You whispered as your faces were only inches apart.

„hm?“

The Italian was busy looking at your lips before her eyes travelled back to yours

„Can I kiss yo-

She cut you off mid-sentence pressing her lips on yours. The taste of strawberries taking over your tongue as the kiss grew more passionate by the second.

Her kisses felt soft and sweet, like you imagined them to be like when you looked at alessia. There was no doubt in your mind that both of you would want to take things further, but the little voice in your head told you to stop.

Not now and definitely not during camp. Alessia deserves better than this and both of you didn’t want it to be a one time thing. The blonde slowly climbed into your lap, not breaking the kiss.

It felt addicting to kiss alessia, the warmth and comfort you felt by being this close to her was out of this world.

You broke the kiss apart when oxygen became a problem and just admired the Italian in front of you.

„How do you smell and taste like strawberries?“

You smiled as the girl turned a bright shade of red.

„It’s my favourite perfume and lip balm“

She said sweetly as she played with the strings of your hoodie.

„Might’ve become my favourite fruit now“

You mumbled as the red colour on her cheeks depend.

After the make out session that night, you and alessia have been sneaking around camp stealing kisses from each other and occasionally even making out.

A few days has past since your first kiss and you were again awake at 3am in the lounge room fully making out with the Italian. You didn’t know when it happened but somewhere along watching „6 underground“, alessias lips seemed way more interesting than the movie.

Just as you were about to say something you heard a high pitched squeak from the door. You looked into the direction to see Leah with her hands clasped over her mouth.

„It’s not what it looks like“

Alessia and you said in unison.

Part 2? 👀

[secretswiftymarvelfan]

Number 40 with firefighter chris

Thank you for sending in an ask! I always love daydreaming about these two and I love how we now have a scenario for both of them!

Burnin' Up: Sleeping Beauty - Firefighter!Chris x Reader

Summary: When you get too deep into your work and start refusing to get some rest Chris takes measures into his own hands

Word Count: 975

Warnings: Language! Super Tired and Grumpy Reader! Fluff!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics​​

Meet the Characters!

Series Masterlist / Masterlist

Sleeping Beauty

Chris was standing behind the couch with his hands on his hips as he let out a long sigh. One that went completely unnoticed by you but that didn’t surprise him, he knew you could get a bit blinkered when it came to working.

You had been working on an assault case that had potential links to Organised Crime meaning you had to go about solving it differently if you wanted to take down the whole gang.

Chris genuinely did not mind when you had to bring work home, he understood that it happens sometimes. Like how he can sometimes have to be on call and have to leave with little warning. What was bothering him right now was the fact that you were clearly overworking yourself.

As soon as he picked you up he could see how tired you were, practically melting into the car seat, your eyes half shut the entire drive to his place. You were constantly yawning or stretching and shaking your head in an attempt to wake up.

He had managed to stop you from working long enough to have dinner and he was hoping that you would then call it a night but you just walked back to the couch and started working again. Every attempt he made to try and get you to just relax failed and he was starting to get irritated.

“Babe I think you should give that a rest now” he finally said, hoping being blunt would work and wouldn’t backfire.

“Chris I’m so close or at least I think I am,” you say shaking your head, not even bothering to look over your shoulder at him.

“Sweetheart you’ve been at this all day, your brain is gonna be fried” Chris reasons as he moves around the couch to stand in front of you.

“My brain is perfectly fine” you huff glancing up at him, giving him the perfect view of your tired eyes.

“Y/N I can see how tired you are if you keep overworking yourself you’re gonna make yourself sick” he argues shaking his head with a concerned sigh.

“No I’m not, Chris I’m fine just drop it” you state looking back down at your work with a quiet sniffle telling Chris it might be too late to stop you from getting sick.

“Babe you need sleep” Chris argues.

“No, I don’t. I’m fine” you retort refusing to look up at him.

Chris has lost all his patience at this point so desperate times called for desperate measures.

“I’m gonna carry you to bed if you keep arguing with me about not needing sleep,” Chris states crossing his arms over his chest.

You look back at up him, eyes narrowed “I’d like to see you try” you challenge.

Chris lets out a small huff as he shakes his head, god you could be so stubborn. But he wasn’t going to back down, so he swiped the work out of your hands.

“What the fuck Chris give it back!” You complain standing up from the couch and following after him as he moves to put it on the top shelf of the bookcase, out of your reach.

“Nope, you’ll get it back in the morning, right now you’re going to bed” he states turning back around to face you before picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder.

“What the hell Chris! Put me down! I’m fine!” You screech trying to push yourself free but that only made Chris hold on tighter.

“Nope, we’re going to bed and you’ll be able to work again in the morning with a fresh head,” he says as he turns off the TV, switches off the lights and makes sure all the doors were locked all while you were squirming in his hold “pack it in, you’re gonna make me drop you” he scolds giving your ass a light slap.

“You seriously did not just slap my ass” you gasp.

“I did, and I’ll do it again if you keep misbehaving” he warns as he carries you up the stairs.

“I’m not a child” you huff.

Chris scoffs quietly “oh really? Cause you’re damn well acting like an over-tired toddler” he retorts.

“You’re such an ass Christopher” you grumble but thankfully Chris could feel you giving up the fight.

Once he reached the ensuite he put you back down on solid ground “can I trust you to brush your teeth and get ready for bed without trying to sneak out?” He asks hands on his hips.

You don’t say anything, just narrow your eyes at him before turning to face the sink and start getting ready for bed. Chris lets out a small sigh of relief as he moves to get ready himself.

Soon enough the both of you were climbing into bed, you more hesitantly than Chris. Nevertheless, you got in and shuffled closer to him so you could rest your head on his chest, but you still let out a long and loud huff to show you were still weren’t pleased about being forced to bed.

“Babe, I’m just trying to make sure you don’t burn yourself out,” Chris says softly, not liking the idea of you falling asleep grumpy with him.

“I know” you grumble, making him chuckle lightly.

“You know what I’d bet good money that when you start work tomorrow after a good night's sleep you’ll crack the case” Chris promises.

You raise your head to look at him, eyes narrowing “what kinda money are you thinking? Are you willing to bet Dodger on that?” You question.

“Well Dodger is practically half yours already, but how about 100 bucks” Chris offers.

“Deal,” you say holding your hand up for a handshake.

Chris chuckles shaking your hand before pulling it up to his lips for a kiss “now get some rest sleeping beauty”

Sharing is caring so please reblog if you enjoyed this and maybe even leave a comment to make my day!

Sleepy Prompts

SEND ME SOME BIRTHDAY PROMPTS!

Series Masterlist / Masterlist

I don’t have a tag list but follow @secretswiftymarvelfanlibrary​ and turn on post notifications to stay up to date!

[actualalligator]

WIP Wednesday

More of "If I Lead, Will You Follow?" my dom!Eddie fic. I hit 12k with this today, and very much still at the beginning of this fic.

Eddie nodded, but he needed to do something, so he pulled out plates to set the table. “You drink, Mr. Bartender?”  “For the right brew, yeah,” Buck called over his shoulder.  Eddie smiled and pulled open the fridge. He pulled out two bottles from a six-pack. “You’re in luck, then because just today I picked up a limited-run porter from Oakenbarrow Brewing.”  Buck snorted but didn’t turn to look at him.  Eddie narrowed his eyes. He’d been excited about the beer when he’d seen it at the grocery store earlier that day. It looked good. Was it not? Had he just embarrassed himself over beer? “What?”  Buck turned. He leaned his hip against the counter and smiled. “The Oakenbarrow guys are nerds. Three big viking looking guys showed up at the bar with growlers of their stout and pilsner and somehow managed to convince the boss to not only put their beer on tap but also let them host a tabletop gaming night in the bar. Oakenbarrow is because of Skyrim. They wanted it to sound like it belonged in Tamriel.”  Eddie looked at the bottles in his hand. He chooses not to point out that Buck knows about Tamriel period. “Is the beer good at least?”  “Oh yeah, it is, in my opinion, the second-best brewery in LA,” Buck replied, returning to the stove.  Eddie took the magnetic bottle opener off the fridge and popped the tops. “Here,” he said. “You going to tell me what the best brewery in LA is or keep me in suspense?”  Buck took the bottle. He offered Eddie a smarmy little smirk and clinked the neck of his bottle against Eddie’s. “Cheers.” He took a drink. “You’ll have to come see me at work, Firefighter Diaz. I can’t have you trying it for the first time from a bottle.”  Eddie wanted to kiss his bratty mouth for the way he said Firefighter Diaz. He’d said it at the wedding, but it had been a hurt thing, a reaction to being rejected. This was different. Buck knew what he was doing too, and that was the worst part. If he was Eddie’s…  Eddie took a long drink of his beer and pulled a chair out from the table. He dropped into it. “I’ll see if I can fit you into my busy schedule.”  Buck lifted one shoulder and dropped it before turning back to the stove. “I’m sure you can squeeze me in somewhere.”

tags under the ✂️

Tagged by @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad, @sznofthesticks, @exhuastedpigeon, and @anewkindofme

No pressure tagging of @tizniz, @lochnesswriter, @friendly-chaos, @snowviolettwhite, and @malewifediaz 🩵💚🩵

[armed-with-a-waffle-iron]

Bat Family— Star Trek AU💫.

"Captain’s log, Stardate 688 09.9:

4 weeks in the big chair and it still takes me an extra second to remember it’s my final orders the bridge waits on. Today, my chatty science officer even told me “careful, Grayson; even a small leak can sink a great ship”. I told the kid I’d make sure to put it in my log so here it is.

It has been only 6 weeks since the so-called “New Gods” attacked the Federation, and the Long Shadows and its brave, young crew are not just grieving the loss of their captain but one of our world’s finest…;a man whom, despite our rocky history, I saw as a brother. Aboard the Federation’s lead emergency and rescue vessel, our crew is, on a daily, reckoning with the fallout of the final crisis in the Alpha Quadrant and the power vacuum left in its wake. Firefighting aside, our crew is also adapting, rather hurriedly, to the musical chairs in both senior and junior staff.

I began my career on the bridge of this fateful ship and somehow I always find my way back to it. It wasn’t long ago that I was a small, cocky, upstart ensign, masking tragedy with a smile. I was just lucky that my captain saw something he liked in me. “I’ll be head monkey before you know it” I used to tell Bruce and, cruelly, that was closer to the truth than I could have imagined. It’s strange how much of an imposter I feel in his chair— my chair now. Just weeks ago, I was commanding the Big Apple, which gives me more pleasure than I can say but…this— this ship is different; Bruce made it his and to take over as their captain? I should know more than anyone; the show must go on. I’ve spent too much time treating this role as a memorial. It’s time to properly redefine the role as my own. Life’s a carnival and it’s time I take the stage.

My first act as captain was appointing Ens. Wayne as my chief science officer; the very role I served under his father when I was an ensign no older than him. This may raise eyebrows but, while I can’t always excuse the kid’s abrasiveness and pride, I want it on record that I have my full confidence in his abilities. Ens. Wayne is a determined and focused officer whose brilliant thinking has already saved dozens of lives. Any sniff of bigotry regarding his Romulan heritage, on and off this ship, will be dealt with directly by me. And Miss Brown. He’s a diamond in the rough but I expect the rest of my seasoned bridge crew to rub off on him. There’s something written in the stars about a captain and their science officer, and there’s no one on this crew as ready as Damian to begin a new chapter in their story; we’re gonna be a hell of a duo.

I have worked closely with Counselor Brown since she returned to The Shadows from service on the medical vessel Katavi. Miss Brown is inspiringly driven. She’s a practiced medic though an unconventional choice for a counselor but I’m sure she’d take that as a compliment. She has a magnetic charm and a gift for connecting with others, and is a savvy diplomat when she remembers to not to think aloud. She was always prone to the odd risk, especially when lives are on the line in the field, though it’s safe to say that she never runs out of ideas. “If I was gonna play by the book, I’d have never left Earth,” she told me recently. Dr. Pennyworth claims she reminds him of…well, me but I don’t know, I don’t really see it. Perhaps the lines between bravery and recklessness are blurrier than I thought, and maybe every starship needs medics and counselors with Miss Brown��s unyielding dedication to the wellbeing of others.

It’s been a… a pleasure to serve alongside Cmdr. Gordon again, after almost 2 years. Sometimes it is…a lot to share a bridge with someone who’s known you so inti— known you for so long. Especially when tensions are high. Nonetheless, there is no one on this ship I trust more to set me straight if need be. In fact, there may be no one on this ship I trust more. This ship would have never left its dock if we didn’t have Cmdr. Gordon in charge of operations. Barbara’s truly the ship’s 411— if there were two of her, I’d opt to retire the ship’s computer. She’s a born leader; also responsible for the appointment of half of my senior bridge staff and she comfortably takes the big chair when required. We’ve always made a great team, which will mean a few clashes and compromises too. To whoever it may concern, we’ll keep things professional this time, I promise…

Lt. Cmdr. Bertinelli is a stellar security chief and it’s in these uncertain times that her very own Atlas of Organised Crime is consulted significantly, on and off this ship. I’ll admit that the two of us haven’t had the smoothest of working— or personal— relationships in the past but “the past” is all it is. I’m happy to call Helena one of my greatest allies— and friends. It’s been lovely to see someone so solitary find a family on board this ship. I may not always see eye-to-eye with Cmdr. Bertinelli but I have no qualms in saying that she would be a captain by now if Star Fleet tribunal and their rulings against her weren’t riddled with rigid hierarchies and double standards.

My 1st Officer, Lt. Cmdr. Kane, certainly knows how to run a tight ship. She has made it clear that she thinks mine lacks a little discipline and caution. Her security background really shows and we definitely have different styles in leadership but hopefully the Shadows can get the best out of both worlds. In her words; “this ship is facing a different breed of threat and disaster every day, so it needs a different breed of crew”. She’s happy to take the bridge when an away team is needed so she’s probably spent more time in the captain’s chair than I have by now. 

Lt. Cmdr. Montoya was an instrumental player in Star Fleet’s response to the final crisis and she is determined to honour the memory of the late Mr. Sage, whose post she has assumed. She’s a veteran investigator who’s quickly learning the ropes to service aboard a starship and she already sets a high bar on scouting and espionage assignments. Cmdr.s Kane, Montoya and Bertinelli, form a simply excellent criminal investigation team, although I won’t pretend to understand their more personal relationships with each other.

Doctor Pennyworth, as he was before, has been my rock. He’s the heart of this ship, and he does a solid job at keeping its crew alive and well. The Shadows just isn’t the Shadows without him.

It’s no secret how hard Lt. Drake is taking Capt. Wayne’s passing— his regular counselling sessions with Miss Brown too often end in a screaming match in the hallway. For the record, I stand by my decision to give Mr. Drake’s bridge posting to Ens. Wayne and put Mr. Drake in charge of engineering. The Ensign is a real prodigy and needs this show of good faith while Mr. Drake, who has been a brilliant science officer to Capt. Wayne for almost 4 years, deserved the chance to step out of his old captain’s shadow. Nonetheless, our relationship has soured since I, in his words, “kicked him off my bridge” but that is not to say I don’t have the utmost faith in his performance as our new chief engineer.

Lt. Cain has been distant…let me rephrase that— Lt. Cain has been taken to self-isolating since the captain’s passing. Counselor Brown says sometimes she’ll go almost an entire counseling session without saying a word. Funny enough, when I suggested joint sessions with Mr. Drake, the counselor told me to get out of her office. Babs— Cmdr. Gordon, sorry, insists Miss Cain will come around in time; she knows she is among dear friends. She continues to be reliable and cool under pressure at the ship’s helm, adept at assignments in zero-G, and a clinical melee fighter when it’s called for. Yesterday, I suggested that she also head combat training down at security and she smiled, so maybe she will take up that offer.

On a ship so aptly named, it’s hard to forget that old sins cast long shadows. We now reckon with both old foes and threats unforeseen, which place the now vulnerable Federation in jeopardy and expose the cracks in its facade. It’s almost as if the ship herself questions how well we learn from history, and how history will remember us."