#fluff firefighters

[katiexpunk]

Sex On Fire, Part 1 | 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 1 Summary: You move to New York, after a little coaxing from your aunt. You meet your new neighbor, Joel, and quickly learn he's a Captain with the NYFD and good with his hands. Rating: 18+ Minors DNI Word Count: ~6.7K Warnings: Sexual tension, sexual tension, sexual tension. This one is dripping in it. No age gap specified. No explicit smut (yet, there's uh...gonna be a lot in part 2), but a nice lead up to it in the end that will probably blue ball you. Groping. Alcohol. Hardcore flirting. Fleetwood Mac, The Rolling Stones, and Kings of Leon song references. Uniform kink. Joel has a hard on for seeing reader in his shirt. Reader's mom has passed. Texas/small town vibes. New York City. There are no specific descriptors for reader, except that she has hair. Ya'll, these two are just down for each other so fucking bad it's not even funny. Authors Note: This one is for my darling moot @darkheartgatita. Pia, thanks for putting Firefighter!Joel into my brain. I hope you enjoy. As always, thank you to my Slutty, Smutty, Sister @sydneyinacoma who inspires me every day and shares her filthy thoughts on the reg. And to everyone who gives my little blog love -- I fucking love you all so much. Part 2, Fall and Winter, will drop next Saturday.

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S P R I N G  Spring blooms, bringing with it a new beginning for you. Of all the places you’d thought you would be, New York was not one of them. 

Life back in Texas wasn't terrible, a bit dull sometimes, but not awful. 

Yet, in the mundane moments, your mind often drifted to daydreams – visions of swapping your Levi's for a sleek black dress and trading quiet farmland for the lively hum of city bars. You’d think of Samantha from Sex and the City sitting on your porch at sunset, drinking Bud Light, wishing your fairy godmother would appear and magically turn it into a dry Martini.

That was until three weeks ago, when your rich aunt, visiting from New York, decided to sprinkle a bit of magic into your life. 

“I’m gonna move to Italy for a while,” she casually said over family dinner as if she was just announcing that she was going to the store for milk. You should have been surprised, but she’s always been the kind to never stick around for too long. Single and child-free, she’s spent her adult life dancing to her free-spirited rhythm, bouncing around from one place to the next. Not because she had to, but because she could. You, on the other hand, were the total opposite.  After your mom passed away, leaving the cocoon of the familiar felt like too much. Despite your aunt's protests and encouragement to just go, you resisted, not wanting to leave behind your dad and the comfortable life you'd known. But if there's one thing you've learned about your aunt, it's that she's relentless – and yanking you out of your comfort zone was precisely what she wanted, and she had just the plan to do it. 

She handed you the keys to her Lower East Side apartment, turning your once silly little daydreams into a reality. “Sweetie, you need this – you’re meant for so much more, your dad will be fine. Please go,” she encouraged. 

Despite your initial reluctance, you caved, and before you knew it, you were on a plane bound for JFK. 

++++ You feel like a small fish in a big pond as you navigate the city. Trying to figure out the subway turns into a whole saga of you getting lost more than once. You eventually find the right borough, but not without a fair share of unhelpful people brushing you off along the way. Yep, you're definitely not in Texas anymore. 

While walking through the city, it hits you that a new pair of shoes is in order; something made clear to you by the little blister on the back of your heel that’s screaming at you. Despite the annoyance, you’re enjoying the walk to the apartment, your new home. The city's buzzing with life, and even the faint smell of urine in the air doesn't bother you. It's a wild, trippy feeling to be in the city, to feel like the main character of your own story. 

You grab your phone, itching to double-check the building your aunt texted and ensure you have the right address. Remembering her advice about the unassuming exterior but spectacular view, you get ready for the big reveal. The key affixed to a keychain with a little apple on it meets the lock, and as you turn it, the door swings open, revealing a spacious wooden staircase.

As you step inside, you notice there's a bit of mail scattered on the slightly dusty floor. You collect the envelopes and magazines with your aunt's name on them and neatly stack the other pieces for Joel Miller into a pile on the bottom step.

After climbing the – Jesus, really fucking narrow – stairs, you're faced with doors opposite each other. While a brief doubt nudges you to recheck the apartment number, your gut tells you that the door with the welcome mat showing lemons and a pot of fake flowers is the one — a stark difference from its neighbor with a simple grey mat and no decor. Trusting your instincts, you decide that the lively entrance is the one. 

As you step inside, you're greeted by a cozy space that, despite its age, radiates warmth and character. The walls are adorned with paintings that seem to tell stories of bygone eras, while rays of sunlight filter through the window, revealing glimpses of the bustling cityscape below. 

Though small, the apartment is meticulously decorated, each corner telling a tale of adventures and cultural escapades. Remnants of your aunt’s travels, collected with care, add a touch of global flair to the modest space. Posters from Broadway plays hang proudly on the walls, as do family pictures. It’s lived-in; the kind of lived-in that feels comfy and embraces you like a warm hug. 

You look at the frames on the wall and pause when you see one of your favorites – a photo of you as a little girl, smushed between your mom and your aunt, a cake three sizes bigger than your tiny head lit up with birthday candles in front of you. You can't help but trace the edges of the frame with your fingertips, connecting with the warmth radiating from your mother's beaming smile. Miss you, mom escapes your lips as your eyes linger on the photograph for a heartbeat longer before the rest of the room demands your attention.

In the compact kitchen, a handwritten note from your aunt beckons, strategically placed beside a bottle of wine on top of a stack of takeout menus. Her words resonate with warmth and encouragement. "Welcome to your new home! I am so proud of you for taking me up on my offer. Disregard the bedroom chaos—I started painting the walls but didn't quite finish before taking off. Feel free to pick up where I left off if the mood strikes. And if you ever need a hand with anything, Joel Miller across the way is a nice guy. I've already told him that you’ll be staying for a while, or who knows, maybe forever. Love you!" The paper carries the unmistakable fragrance of her perfume, and a smile graces your face after you finish reading it. 

Setting the heartfelt note aside, your attention shifts to the menu for Sang Garden, a vibrant pink post-it exclaiming, "Right down the street! Super yummy!" Hunger gnaws at your stomach; the last meal was a distant memory from this morning, and you're ravenous. Without hesitation, you dial the number on the menu, your choice a steadfast favorite: orange chicken. “10 minutes,” the older lady on the phone tells you, not bothering to say goodbye before hanging up. Huh, efficient, you think. 

As the aroma of anticipation fills the air, you finish unpacking your suitcase and weave through your new space until your food is ready. Only having to go down a flight of stairs and less than a block down the street to pick it up is a new feeling for you. If you wanted something like this at home you’d have to drive at least 20 minutes to pick it up. 

You finish the entirety of the meal within minutes curled up on the couch, Sex and the City on the T.V.. Your aunt was right, it’s good. Probably the best orange chicken you’ve ever had in your entire life; just the right amount of zest and sweetness. You can already tell you’ll be a regular. Everyone always talks about the pizza in New York, but nobody bothered to tell you about the Chinese. You can tell you’ll probably have a lot of moments like that, discovering new things for yourself instead of hearing about it from magazines or seeing the photos on Instagram. 

With your belly now full of the sticky goodness, you settle into bed for the night. You stare at the ceiling, paying no mind to the smile that’s been plastered on your face for the past three hours. You feel giddy, like a little girl seeing the stars for the first time. You’re doing it. You’re really doing it. 

The city is still thrumming to life, but the distant sound of sirens and honks eventually turns to white noise as you drift off to sleep. 

++++

The next morning, you rise with purpose; new life breathed into you. You brew a cup of coffee and decide to savor it on the fire escape, enjoying the not-yet-thick spring, and still slightly chilly, spring air. As the city stirs awake beneath you, you’re determined to craft an agenda for the day. With another few days to spare before your new job starts, your thoughts drift to the bedroom, where the abandoned paint cans await. 

It's been a while since you've had the chance to dive into something genuinely productive, or creative for that matter, and you decide that this is the perfect opportunity. Your aunt chose a deep, rich shade of green, one that harmonizes seamlessly with the space; not too dark, but not puke or pea green, either. It’s pretty. She always has had good taste. 

And while you like the color, it’s not particularly one you’d like to see splattered all over your clothing, having only brought what you could fit into a small suitcase. Your aunt must have something, you think. The woman has more clothes than a department store and there is no way she could have brought them all to Italy, although you don’t put it past her to try. 

You make your way to the guest bedroom and rummage through the dresser located there. The top drawer is full of nothing but scrapbooks, the middle drawer has only sweaters, but luck strikes in the bottom drawer, where you locate a handful of old shirts. 

You pull out a dark blue, oversized “New York Fire Department” cotton t-shirt; the front of it has an emblem, and the back says “Rescue 1 FDNY” in faded blocky white letters, obviously well-loved. This will do, you tell yourself, quickly exchanging your tiny crop top for the large shirt. It hangs over your body, the bottom nearly hitting your knees. Why your aunt has such a large shirt in her collection you’ll never know, but you wager it’s probably from one of her many “friends” over the years.  

++++

The sounds of Fleetwood Mac's "Rumours" fill the room, you stand in the center of the bedroom, paintbrush in hand, ready to transform the space. The nostalgic chords of Stevie Nicks' voice in Dreams infuse the air, blending with the scent of fresh paint as you dip the brush into the can, and begin. “Like a heartbeat drives you mad,” you sing, slightly off-key, but no one is around to listen and you don’t mind. “Thunder only happens when it’s rainingggggg,” you belt, using the paintbrush as a microphone. 

While most of the paint makes it on the walls, you have to admit that painting isn’t your strong suit and a fair amount of it has splashed back onto your face, shirt, and even your hair. You’re having fun, more fun than you’ve had in a while, even if you make a mess while doing it. Not like you’re gonna see anyone today anyway.

“Players only love you when they’re plaaaaaying…” doing your best Stevie twirl. 

More and more green covers the walls, but as you’re about to get started on the final white wall, you’re interrupted by a loud steady stream of knocks at your door. 

You hit pause on the music, and make your way to the door, unsure of who would possibly be knocking. You peer through the peephole to take a look, but you can only see the back of a man in a simple white shirt, his back turned to face away from the door. You undo the chain lock and swing the door open. 

As the man pivots to meet your gaze, his presence sweeps over you, an unexpected force that leaves you momentarily disarmed. He’s handsome in a way that unmoors you; a mass of a man with broad shoulders, sun-kissed skin, and sculpted biceps that redefine your sense of composure. Whoa.

“Hi,” you murmur, your eyes conveying a blend of softness and curiosity, "Can I help you?"

The man looks at you, and you feel yourself heat under the attention of his gaze. His eyes gently caress your frame; lingering a little too long on the emblem sewn into the fabric, just above your breast. 

"Uh," he clears his throat, his hand rising to his face, fingers subtly grazing the beard hair on his cheek, as if grappling for words. "Yeah, well – no, uh," he stumbles, the words caught in a momentary struggle. "Hi, ‘m Joel Miller, I live across the way," he greets, angling his body to signal to the door directly across the foyer. “Oh right, my aunt told me about you you,” you say, introducing yourself, voice smooth like honey. “She mentioned you were a nice guy and to call you if I ever needed anything,” you say, taking up space in front of him by leaning into the door.  “Just stopping by to say hi, then? Or do you need a cup of sugar or something like that?” you ask with a playful tone. 

Suddenly, the last thing he wants to do is admit that there's something you could help him with—like turning down your music. He likes Fleetwood Mac as much as the next guy, but the last three days on shift have left him craving peace, not a soundtrack reverberating through the thin walls.

Plus, he wasn’t expecting you to be so damn attractive. 

And he definitely wasn’t expecting to be wearing his shirt when you answered the door. 

“Ha, no, don’t need any sugar,” he chuckles, “just thought I’d make myself known.” He pauses, eyes locked onto yours. You notice the subtle flecks of amber in his deep brown eyes and the furrow of his brow. He’s painfully handsome. Just as you’re about to say something, he breaks the silence first, “But I'll let you get back to whatever it is you’re doin’...you look busy,” he tilts his chin to the paint that’s splotched over your bare legs. You can tell he’s looking for the story behind the mess. 

His left hand leaves his pocket and he places it on the doorframe. He leans into it, and your eyes catch the firmness of his bicep flexing under the strain of his lean before meeting his face once more. 

“Cute shirt, by the way” he says, his voice low and even. 

“Oh thanks, you like it?” you ask, pulling the fabric out in a tent from the center, noticing the little splatters of paint as you do. “It’s my aunt’s, I just borrowed it while I finish up some painting.”

“Yeah, I have the same one,” he adds, “looks a helluva lot better on you than it does me, though,” a little laugh leaves his chest and his cheeks flush, a little embarrassed that he just said that. Fuck, it’s been so long since he’s tried to flirt with a woman. 

Your skin prickles with heat, and you’re suddenly very self-aware of what a wreck you must look like, but you decide to be bold anyway. “Maybe we’ll have to compare sometime,” you playfully retort.

“Yeah, maybe we will,” he responds, looking you up and down, hoping the meaning behind his words isn’t too obvious. 

“Well if ya ever need anything, ‘m just across the way,” he says, dropping his hand from the doorframe, hitting his thigh with a slight sound of a pat. “Nice to meet ya, Darlin’,” he says. You don’t miss the way his eyes flicker down to your chest once more, your stiff nipples now peeking through the fabric. He turns on his heels and turns his back to walk back to his apartment. 

“Nice to meet you, Joel,” you purr. His head peers over his shoulder back at you, and the corners of his lips turn up in a little smirk. 

Oh god. 

You’re so fucked.

++++

Later that night, you text your aunt that you just met Joel Miller. You curse her for not telling you how incredibly hot he is.  You also tell her that you decided to finish the painting, sending a selfie of you in front of the freshly updated walls with the message. You also add that you borrowed one of her shirts and that you’ll do your best to get the paint out of it. 

Her response causes your breath to hitch in your throat, and your stomach swirls into a tight knot. 

“The walls look amazing! Oh and by the way, that’s not my shirt, it’s Joel’s. I must have forgotten to give it back to him; the shared laundry downstairs sometimes causes mix-ups. Be a doll and give it back to him, will ya? Oh and quarters for the machines are in the clay pot next to the door.” 

Fuck. Of course you would answer the door to your incredibly hot neighbor, covered in paint, in his shirt. You shake your head in embarrassment.

You look down at the shirt and notice just how much paint is all over it. You strip it from your body, bring it over to the sink, and begin to scrub the paint out of it with dish soap. As you watch the paint fade into the warm water, you notice the tag on the inside of the shirt and the rank inscribed in permanent marker on it. 

Your fingers prune in the water, but you eventually get all of the paint out of the fabric. Satisfied with your cleaning job, you hang it up to dry and scribble out a note. 

The following morning, on your way out to explore the city, you leave it neatly folded on Joel’s doorstep. You don’t bother to knock, you’re certain you might combust from embarrassment if you did. 

Shortly after, on his way to work, Joel opens the door and notices the shirt by his boot, a little envelope placed on top of it. 

“You could have told me it was your shirt, Captain Miller.” 

Joel smirks. The cat’s out of the bag on that little secret then. He places it inside and lets out a little sigh. The image of your perky nipples, exposed legs, and messy paint-riddled hair flashes in his brain. 

God, he wishes you would have kept it. 

S U M M E R

As spring transitions into summer, the city experiences a gradual warming trend. Cherry blossoms and tulips from spring slowly give way to vibrant green foliage. Parks become lively with people enjoying the pleasant weather, and outdoor events become more frequent. The temperature rises, and there's a noticeable shift towards a warmer atmosphere with longer days. 

It’s a shift you also feel in yourself, having found your niche, carving out your place in the ecosystem of the city. You’ve gradually adjusted, figured out how to successfully navigate the complexities of the subway system, and are starting to rely less and less on Google Maps to get around. You frequent a bodega around the corner from you, know where to find a decent bagel, and are a recognizable regular at Sang Garden. 

Your new job keeps you busy. It’s tough work being a bartender in the city, but it’s granted you more than one opportunity to meet people from all walks of life, people you’d never get the opportunity to meet back in your hometown. 

People like the gregarious and charismatic trader, who’s more than happy to make it clear he works in the financial district, even when nobody asks. People like the countless young professionals unwinding after a long day with their colleagues; some with sexual tension so obvious you can taste it. Designers. Architects. Engineers. Writers. Musicians. Actors. You don’t like them all, but you don’t have to, you’ll never see most of them more than once anyway. 

You quickly learn the art of making a good martini, one you think would make Samantha proud. It’s all so posh. So far from your usual. But the money is good, and without having to pay rent – a luxury you now realize; having almost fainted when your coworker told you how much he pays in rent – it allows you to pocket most of it. 

Your first few months in New York have been good, although a tad lonely. Making friends was never really a strong suit of yours, and you’re finding the city to be a particularly hard place to get to know people in any real way. Most of your free time is spent curled up with a good book or watching Friends for the millionth time, wishing Central Perk was a real place. 

You see Joel in passing now and then, the in-between times when he’s coming home from work, and you’re just leaving for yours. Sometimes you pass each other on the stairs, and you have to angle your bodies side-to-side just to fit on the narrow stairs as you navigate around one another. You sometimes have to collect your composure when you leave for work and notice the faint smell of his cologne still in the hallway, it smells so good it makes you dizzy. 

You find excuses to talk to him every now and then – a squeaky fire detector, to hand him his mail, or even for a stupid cup of sugar. Every time you find yourself knocking on his door, the butterflies congregate in masses as if preparing to migrate. You feel like a school girl with a crush for the first time, but as far as you can tell, Joel doesn’t feel the same, and you’re okay with that. At least that’s what you try to tell yourself. 

The exchanges are always short; little blips in the grand scene of time, but that doesn’t stop you from feeling like you might faint under the intensity of his scorching gaze. Which doesn’t help, considering it’s already sweltering outside. 

You severely underestimated how hot summer would be. Of course, you’re used to the oppressive Texas sun, but something about the way the buildings and concrete reflect the rays makes it feel like New York is at least 10x hotter. 

The temperature in your apartment isn’t much better than outside. The air hangs heavy inside as you lay on your mattress, clad in only a bra and underwear, on crisp white sheets, attempting to cool yourself with a damp towel on your forehead. You listen to the feeble hum of the wall crying out for help. 

As luck would have it, the overworked unit decides to give in to the heat. Beads of sweat form on your forehead as you attempt to fix it, but it’s pointless. You stare at the lifeless unit, realizing that the city’s relentless heat has claimed it as a victim. Time for a new one. 

Once the sun dips past the skyline, you venture out to your local hardware store to grab a new one. You wish you would have had some forethought to bring a cart or something, not thinking about the fact that you were going to have to carry the heavy unit eight city blocks. Coulda, shoulda, woulda, you think to yourself. Once back to your apartment, you balance the quirky box on your hip, holding it steady with one arm as you fumble to grab the key from your purse outside the entrance of the building. Your cheeks are warm, you’re drenched in sweat even at this hour, and your hair is starting to stick to the nape of your neck. You manage to grab it, but inadvertently drop it, your fingers clammy. 

“Shit,” you mutter, frustrated and hot. 

“Need some help there, Darlin’?” Joel asks, making his way up the stoop. You turn to face him and oh. 

Of all the times you’ve seen Joel, you’ve never seen him in uniform. The sight catches you off guard. His crisp, navy blue uniform emphasizes his broad shoulders and neatly tucked shirt, the shiny FDNY badge on his chest. He flashes a charming smile, revealing a hint of dimples, as he picks up your fallen key with ease. You’re not sure how he always manages to look so put together, a stark contrast to the way you always seem to look in front of him. 

"Rough day?" he asks, unlocking the door, and for a moment, you forget the oppressive heat, captivated by his charm. “Here, lemme take that for you,” he offers, and you kindly accept. You shift the box out of your arms into his, and your stomach swoops when you watch the way his biceps flex as he grabs the unit with ease. 

Grateful for the assistance, you offer a sheepish smile, “Yeah, you could say that” you reply, opening the door, holding it open for him. He begins to ascend the staircase ahead of you, giving you a full view of his ass in his uniform pants; it’s toned, and his thick thighs match. You walk behind him, trying to ignore the stickiness that’s beginning to pool in your underwear. You allow yourself to perv out for a moment, at least while his back is to you. He’s just helping you out, stop being weird.

Joel waits at the top of the steps for you to open your door. Once unlocked, you enter and he follows behind you. “Oh shit, it’s hotter than hell in here,” he says once inside, the irony is not lost on you that a literal man who fights fires for a living thinks it’s hotter than hell. He bends to place the box down near the front door and rises to full height, bringing both hands to his hips. You notice the little sheen of sweat that has now collected on his thick neck, fighting the impulse to lap up the perspiration. “You’re telling me, I’m rendering lard,” you say, letting your Southern roots shine through. You cringe a little at yourself, watering your accent down to not stick out as much, but you’re reminded of the age-old saying you can take the girl out of the country… 

You wipe the back of your hand on your forehead to push away the sweat that’s been collecting there all day and look at him. “Thanks for the help carrying it up,” you say, offering him a kind smile. 

“No problem at all, need some help installing it? These units can be tricky,” he asks, trying his best to ignore the fact that your white shirt has gone see-through from your sweat, allowing him a perfect view of your breasts. No bra again, he notes. He shifts his stance a little, trying to prevent his cock from hardening at the sight. 

“Are you sure?” you ask, a little unsure, but deep down you know you need the help. As much as you’d like to think of yourself as an independent and capable woman, you’ve never been one to be good with anything mechanical, and the heat has left your brain feeling like the static of a T.V. channel with no reception. 

“Course. I’m a servant to public safety. Can’t have you accidentally pushing it out the window and crushing a person below, it’d be a lot of paperwork” he chuckles and takes out a knife from his pocket to undo the tape on the box.  It’s an ordinary act, yet somehow you’re mesmerized by his dexterity and competency. 

Midway through the process, Joel pauses, feeling the heat, and glances at you with a lighthearted grin. “Mind if I take this off?” he asks, tugging at the collar of the uniform shirt. You nod, suddenly feeling warmer than before. “Sure, go ahead.” 

His large fingers fumble with the buttons on the shirt, eventually revealing a white tank top underneath. The fabric clings to him, highlighting his defined chest, and a little bit of belly. You practically drool at the sight, once again resisting an impulse to want to sink your flesh into the softness above his belt. 

He has an awful farmer's tan, but he wears it well; his forearms are a nice shade of golden and his shoulders are pale. You see from the lack of collar on the tank that he has a bare chest. He throws the uniform shirt onto a nearby chair and goes back to work installing the unit. You watch as he works to position it in the window, stealing glances at his glistening skin as he does. You think you’re being sly about it, but Joel can tell, he can feel your eyes heavy like bowling balls on him. 

“So, how long have you been a firefighter?” you ask.

“About 15 years,” he responds. “Sorta always knew I wanted to do it, I was a contractor for a while, but wasn’t my thing.”

“Oh no? You seem like you’re pretty good with your hands,” you reply, your words suggestive. 

“Never said I wasn’t, Darlin,’” he replies, shooting you a wink. 

He plugs the unit in, and the screen comes to life. He sets the temperature as low as it will go, and the fan on high; the unit is about to put in overtime to make the air tolerable again. 

“Well, that should do it,” straightening back up from his bent-over position, clapping his hands together as if to dust the task off. “Probably gonna take a while for it to cool down in here. You’re uh, more than welcome to hang out at mine for the time being. Don’t need you overheating on me,” trying to mask his excitement at you being in his space by carding his fingers through his salt and pepper curls. 

You glance at the unit, and you can tell he’s right. “Alright, why not,” you say, offering him a smile. “Just gonna use the restroom fast,” you say, looking for an excuse to make yourself at least somewhat presentable and confirm that you don’t smell like a sweaty subway car. 

Inspecting yourself in the harsh, exposing light of the bathroom, you grimace at your appearance. Not that you’d been expecting to look your best, but still. You pat the extra moisture off your skin with a clean towel, when you notice that nipples are straining against the fabric of your wet t-shirt, leaving nothing to the imagination. You briefly consider changing shirts, but the cheeky side of you decides to leave it be. You give yourself a quick smile and internal encouragement in the mirror and you step out of the bathroom. 

Joel waits in the foyer by the door for you, taking the opportunity to learn a little more about you, drinking in the details of your space for any glimmers of insight it might give him about your life. 

He’s been in the space before, but it’s different this time – updated. It still has many of the same things your aunt had put up, but you’ve added new additions to the walls; photos of you with friends, and family, and vinyl covers in frames. His eyes gravitate to a photo of you at your college graduation; your smile ear to ear, a bottle of champagne in your hands. You always seem happy. He likes that about you. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t look for a photo of you with another guy, a hint that you might already be taken, but he’s relieved when he doesn’t find one. 

The bathroom door opens with a soft creak, and you stroll out, shooting him a casual but confident smile. As you do, you casually tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, giving off an easygoing vibe. It's a simple move, but there's a certain charm to it that doesn't go unnoticed by Joel.

“Ready?” you ask, and he clears his throat, trying to hide his pleasure that you opted not to change your still slightly transparent shirt. “Let’s get outta here,” he says, yanking on the handle, the door groans and opens with a loud creak. “Don’t wanna hit traffic.” Oh god, that’s a dad joke if you’ve ever heard one. You try to hide the stupid smile that graces your face, but Joel sees it, and matches it. Your shoulder brushes against his chest as you walk through the door, and Joel straightens in response, a little tingle shooting up his spine from the brief touch. Get a fucking grip, Miller, he thinks to himself, pulling the door closed behind him. 

++++

Once inside his apartment, you gasp. It’s not at all what you expected. 

If his front doorstep was any indication, you expected his apartment to be full of Ikea furniture, bare walls, and maybe a fake plant in the corner somewhere. You’re pleasantly surprised when you find that it’s the exact opposite; you feel like you’ve just wanted into some swanky bar. The air smells like palo santo, but above all, it’s cool. You let out a sigh of relief. 

“Can I get you a beer” he asks, and you nod your head in response. He walks into the kitchen, and you’re mesmerized by his space. It’s a similar layout to your apartment, but somehow it feels bigger, even a tad cozier, plus he has exposed brick, a detail you wish your apartment had. 

“Your apartment is amazing,” you tell him, spinning around to get a full 360 view of the space. You hear him yell something like thanks from the kitchen. 

You find your seat on the cognac-colored couch and run your hand up and down the texture of it. The leather is cool on your skin, and your body temperature slowly begins to return to normal.

Joel returns from the kitchen, and hands you a Bud Light. And for once, you don’t wish for it to turn into a martini. Now having spent a few months in the city, you’re starting to realize that you’re more of a bud girl than a cocktail girl, and that fairy godmothers are a tad overrated. 

You’re not sure when he did it, but your ear tunes to the classic sound of Beast of Burden by the Rolling Stones playing in the background at a low volume, adding a funk you adore to the moment. 

He finds a seat on the couch next to you and throws his arm behind you on the ledge. He crosses his legs over one another, and you squirm, not out of discomfort, but nerves. 

“I am impressed with your apartment, it’s well decorated,” you compliment him, bringing the bottle of beer to your lips. 

“Had a bit of help, ‘f I’m being honest,” he replies. Your stomach flips. 

“Oh?” you say, a bit breathless, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Of course, he would have a girlfriend. You see it plain as day now, the feminine touches built into the apartment, hanging on the walls in plain sight, taunting you with the obvious. He even has like ten live plants for fucks sake. Joel Miller is taken. 

“My daughter, Sarah,” he replies, bringing the beer to his mouth for another swig. You try not to make your sigh of relief too obvious. “Oh!” you squeak and turn your body to face him. You don’t know if you’ve scooted closer or if he did, but your thighs are now touching. 

“She’s studying interior design. Begged me this past year to let her fix up my apartment, and well…I didn’t have the heart ta say no,” he replies. “Said my apartment resembled a frat boys bachelor pad,” he lets out a gruff little chuckle and you smile at him. 

His arm drifts close to you, his hand nearly touching your shoulder. It’s not quite there, but you can feel the heat, the electricity, his fingertips shoot to your skin. So much for cooling down.

“Well, if you didn’t decorate the space, what’s your favorite part about it then?” you ask, taking another swig at the bottle. Joel stares at your lips as they latch around the glass, admiring how plush and warm they look. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t wonder what they might look like around his cock.

“Ah, good question,” he says, bringing his hand to cover his crotch with the bottle, all while subtly trying to adjust himself from his previous thought. He’s surprised he even heard your question at all. “Probably the table over there,” he says, nodding his head back to signal to the dining room. 

“Made it myself,” he says, a bit of pride in his voice. 

You crane your neck to look, but can’t get a good view with how plush the cushions are. You slightly angle your body upwards, coming onto your knee on the couch to look, bringing your chest closer to Joel’s face.

“Well I’ll be damned, you really must be good with your hands,” you playfully tease, letting your body sink by his side once more, feeling the warmth he exudes. Your words cause his gaze to go dark. “Mhmm,” he murmurs, taking another sip of his beer, sure if he said any more he might regret it. 

You notice the music switches to Kings of Leon, a favorite tune of yours echoing through the air. “Oh shit, I love this song,” you exclaim, barely able to contain your excitement, much to Joel’s delight. 

“Yeaaaaaah, your sex is on fireeeee,” you belt, and you inadvertently tilt your beer bottle a little too far down in the process of your solo, and a splash of beer pours out onto Joel’s lap. The action abruptly causes you to stop. 

“Ah, I’m so sorry,” you apologize profusely, setting the nearly empty bottle on the coffee table in front of you, noticing the box of tissues as you do.

“Don’t worry about it, Darlin’,” he says, voice mellow, placing his beer on the table, too.

You frantically grab a handful of tissues and bring them over to the wet spot pooling on Joel’s crotch. “Here, let me,” you say, dabbing at the liquid, the realization not fully hitting you that your hands are literally on his crotch until – oh.

Joel’s been walking the fine line of a stiff one all night, and your simple gesture throws him over the edge, the dabbing causing blood to rush to his cock. 

You continue to blot at the liquid and notice him stiffening underneath you. A heavy rush of arousal courses through you, and heats your core. Joel’s hand darts to grab your wrist, the size of it completely swallowing up your entirety of it, his fingers wrapped around it, and you’re certain he feels your pulse quicken under his touch.

You look up at him with big doe eyes, only to find his own pupils are blown open wide with lust, his jaw tense. His other hand finds the side of your face, and he holds you up to look at him. You both pause there, letting the tension of the moment swallow you whole. He looks at you like you're a juicy summer peach, ripe for the picking.

His grip on your wrist softens, and you flatten your hand to palm at his growing bulge. Joel lets out a deep groan in response to the full contact. “Shit darlin’,” he says, voice wrecked. His hand drifts to the column of your neck, and he begins to pull you up so you’re face-to-face with him. 

The anticipation builds, and just as your lips are about to meet, a sudden shrill sound shatters the moment – the fire alarm. 

“Fuck.” Joel groans.

TO BE CONTINUED - READ PART 2

Tagging moots and those who I think might like this: @endlessthxxghts @theoasisofthings @bastardmandennis @untamedheart81@lavema @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @dugiioh @nervoushottee @milly-louise @ghostwritesthings@josephquinnswhore @drunk-and-capable @peachmy @survivingandenduring@darkheartgatita @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @dins-riduur-anthe @ohheypedrito @joeldjarin @nerdieforpedro As always, feel free to let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list, or removed (even if we're moots, no hard feelings). Might transition to a notifs blog soon.xx

[moonstruckme]

I know we have emt mauraders (and I absolutely love them with all of my heart), but I can't get the image of fireman James out of my head. He's just so beefed up and just has that build about him. You know? 🫠

So true babe <3

cw: reader is trapped in elevator for a bit

firefighter!James x fem!reader ♡ 753 words

It took you some time to work up the courage to press the HELP button. Your building’s elevator has always been a bit scary, shuddering and screeching ever since you’d moved in, so you’d hoped for a while that it would just fix itself, remember that it was supposed to be moving and deliver you safely to your floor. No such luck.

You’re endlessly glad that you’re going home and not running late to work when it takes the fire crew another twenty minutes to show up. You’re guessing elevator rescues aren’t at the top of their priority list. When someone finally bangs on a door somewhere below you, you scramble up from where you’ve been sitting on the floor. 

“Fire department,” a man’s voice says.

“Hi,” you call back, feeling immediately stupid for it. Were you supposed to say your job description back or something? 

“Is everyone okay? How many of you are there?” 

“It’s—it’s just me.” 

“Alright,” the voice says, “we’re gonna get you out of there, just give us a second.” 

You hum back though he probably can’t hear. There’s a lot of creaking metal and muffled voices, and then the door to your prison squeaks slowly open. Most of what you can see is clearly elevator shaft, but there’s a small opening at your feet. Once it’s a couple of feet wide, a curly head pops through. 

“Hi,” the voice from earlier says. It comes from a lovely face, all tan skin and warm eyes and a radiant smile, like this man finds everything about his day genuinely cheering. “You alright in here? Injured at all?” 

It takes you a second to find your voice, and even once you do it sounds pitchier than normal. “No, I’m fine. Thanks.” 

“Perfect.” Somehow, his grin seems to widen, which is a bit much for you right now. Suddenly you’re kind of dizzy. “Okay, I’m just going to have you scooch on your bum over here and stick your legs out, yeah? I’ll pop out so I can lower you down.” 

He’s going…he’s going to grab your legs. Okay. Awesome. This is totally your everyday. 

Some of your hesitance must show on your face, because the man’s expression softens. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even introduce myself,” he says. “I’m James. What’s your name?” 

You tell him, so quietly you’re not sure he can hear, but James nods anyway. “Y/n, you’ve got nothing to worry about. You’ve already been stuck for god knows how long, and I’m sure you’d like to get to where you’re going. This is the easy part, okay?” 

“Okay,” you echo. 

James gives you an encouraging smile, retreating from the opening. “Alright, just set your legs out here,” he calls up. 

You sit down on the elevator floor, slipping your feet through so your legs are dangling in open air. A second later, strong hands grip the undersides of your thighs. 

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” James says. “I’m gonna ease you out, and I just need you to lean back so you don’t bump your head on anything, yeah?” 

You hum in response. He starts pulling you out of the elevator, his grip moving up your thighs to your bottom once it emerges. Your heart thunders, both from the intimate contact and from trusting your weight wholly to someone else. Soon you’ve cleared the opening. Another set of hands cups the back of your head to ensure you don’t hit it on the elevator floor, and then you’re sitting up, your hands landing on James’ shoulders for balance. They’re really quite substantial, you can’t help but notice, wide and full of thick, corded muscle. He tilts his head back, grinning up at you. 

“See?” he says. “Easy.” 

A dizzy little laugh escapes you, and James’ grin takes on a whole new quality. Something curious about it. He hoists you up in his arms, grip transferring to your waist so he can lower you to the floor. 

“Thanks,” you manage, looking up at him. You look at the other handful of firefighters around too, the embarrassment of your situation finally sinking in. Your face heats. “I really appreciate the help.” 

“Anytime, sweetheart,” James says. As the others start packing up equipment, his attention stays on you. “You sure you’re alright? Where are you going from here?” 

You do your best to give him a smile of your own. “Yeah, I’m good. I’m just going home. I live on the sixth floor.” 

He hums. “Best take the stairs this time.”

[honeyedmiller]

A Burning Desire part two

firefighter!joel x f!reader

rating: 18+ minors dni

warnings: joel miller au, mentions of food / eating, literally so much tooth-rotting fluff it’s actually sickening, reader can sit on joel’s lap, mutual pining, kissing, dry humping, no use of y/n.

word count: 6.2k

synopsis: joel takes you on your first date with him.

a/n: special thank you to @punkshort for the meeting at the firehouse idea and for letting me ramble about the infinite ideas i have for this story in our dms. i appreciate the heck outta you

part one here

The summer sun gleamed on you as you made your way up to the firehouse he worked at. The big red doors were open and inviting, the shiny red trucks sitting perfectly still in the apparatus bay as you shyly stepped into the building. 

You carried a tray of cookies you made yourself, wanting to give it to the team as a thank you for being on the scene of your accident and getting you out safely. Well, they were mostly for Joel, Tommy, and the EMT’s. You weren’t able to see Joel in a few days and it drove you sort of crazy, so this was a perfectly good excuse. Joel would probably get teased by his coworkers again, and you’d probably get brought into the mix. It didn’t matter if it meant you got to see him.

It was odd, admitting that to yourself. You’d been single and alone for so long that you were used to the feeling of loneliness, but after meeting Joel, it genuinely sucked not being in his presence. You’ve only known the man for about a week, which made you feel even crazier for feeling this way. 

The way you felt around him was almost unexplainable. Light. Happy. You didn’t have to pretend to be someone you’re not, which you had to do more often than not with your job. 

Being around Joel Miller was like a tall glass of the purest, most refreshing water on Earth. 

“Hey miss, can I help you?” A kind voice snaps you back to reality. The man was wiping his hands with a dish rag, a small smile on his face as he eyed what you had in your hands. 

“Uh– yeah, actually, I came to drop these off for everyone. And uh– is Joel available?” 

You didn’t know why you suddenly felt so shy. Maybe you were just worried as to what his coworkers would think about you coming to his job to ask to see him. 

The man had a knowing smirk on his face and nodded. 

“Ah, so you must be Miller’s mystery woman,” He laughs, jutting his chin up the steps. “He’s up there. Follow me.” 

Your face heats up from his words. Joel talks about you to them? 

You follow him up the stairs to the second floor where the lounge area and kitchen were. Many of them were gathered at the kitchen table while they ate, and a few others were playing a video game in the lounge area. 

“Hey Miller.” The man calls out, and first Tommy turns around with a piece of garlic bread hanging out of his mouth as he plates what looks like lasagna. You have to stifle a laugh at the confused look on his face, but then your heart skips a beat when your eyes land on Joel. 

He’s writing something down in a book, and he looks up at the man before his eyes flit to you. A grin spreads on his lips as you give him a shy smile and a small wave. He stands up from the table he was sitting at after capping his pen, making his way over to you. 

“Darlin’, this is such a nice surprise. Whatcha doin’ here?” He brings you into a hug, and catches himself refraining from giving you a kiss of any sort. He already got enough teasing from his coworkers and brother. 

“I made cookies for everyone. As a thank you, you know, for getting me out of that nasty accident.” 

His eyes soften at your words, eyebrows furrowing together as he takes the plate from your hand. 

“That’s so sweet of you. Thank you. I know these goons over here will devour these.” He motions his head to his coworkers behind him. 

You laugh as you look behind him, all of his coworkers' heads turned your way as they watch the interaction between you two. 

“You busy later tonight?” His voice drops a few octaves, setting the plate on the counter before he coaxes you to follow him downstairs again. 

“Nope. Just watching reruns of The Bachelor.” 

Joel quirks a brow at your show choice with a smile laced onto his lips. 

“Would you mind if I stopped by later? I feel bad I haven’t been able to see you.” 

“Don’t feel bad, Joel. I know you work odd hours,” You pause as he takes you into the locker rooms for some more privacy, away from prying eyes. “But of course you can come over. I’d love the company.” 

“Great. Maybe I can pick up some take-out and we can eat it at your place?” He’s hopeful with a sparkle in his eyes that makes your stomach flutter, once again. 

“Sounds great. I’ll text you the address when you get off work.” 

“I look forward to seein’ you. Y’know, away from nosey people.” He chuckles, referring to his coworkers. You admire the crinkle around his eyes when he smiles. 

“I look forward to it too, Joel,” You lean in and press your lips to his cheek. “I’ll see you later, cowboy.” You give him a wink before turning around to walk off, leaving him standing there with the goofiest grin plastered on his face. 

-

A few hours had passed by since you stopped off at the firehouse, and you were tidying up last minute things before Joel came over. 

You hadn’t had someone over at your place in a long time besides family, so a part of you wanted to impress him a little. 

He’d be over any minute now and you couldn’t stop your heart from racing. You don’t know what it was, but Joel just made you so nervous in the best way possible. You felt like a teenager all over again with a crush you’d giggle with your friends about—but in this case, it was your sister. 

Just as you finished fluffing up the last pillow on the couch, you heard a knock on your door. 

You checked through the peephole just to be sure it was Joel, and when you saw it was, you couldn’t help the grin that spread across your lips. You open the door to him wearing more casual clothes, a pair of jeans and a t-shirt that hugged his biceps really well, holding a bag of takeout in his hand. 

“Hey darlin’.” He greets you with a smile on his face, and you move aside to let him in. 

“Hey Joel.” You close the door after he’s in, locking the top lock before turning around to face him. 

“Where should I set up this gourmet feast?” He teases, wiggling his eyebrows as he holds up the bag of Chinese food. 

You huff a laugh and nod toward the dining room table. “There’s fine. Let me get some plates.” 

You make your way to the cabinets in your kitchen, pulling down two plates for the both of you before you turn around, only to be met with the close proximity of Joel. You gasp and look at him, biting your lip to keep from smiling. 

Goddamn teenager. 

“So, I figured out where I wanna take ya for our first date.” He starts, leaning against the counter.

“I thought this was our first date.” You blink, eyes shifting to the delicious smelling Chinese food sitting on your dining room table just waiting to be devoured. 

Joel snorts and crosses his arms, “You kiddin’ me? As much as I like bein’ in your company, this ain’t a date, darlin’. You deserve better than a half-assed plan to eat takeout and watch that one show you like.” 

You look down at your socked feet, having never really felt like a priority anytime you were involved romantically with someone. You barely even know this man and he’s already shown more effort toward you than some men of your past. 

“Baby, look at me,” Joel tilts your chin up again so your gaze meets his, and he gives you a soft smile that makes your insides absolutely melt. “As long as I’m around, I’m gonna make sure you feel important. It’s the least you deserve.” 

And you want to believe him, so fucking bad. There’s this stupid nagging voice in the back of your head telling you that what he’s saying isn’t true—you don’t deserve to feel important and being single was the best decision you could’ve made for yourself. 

You force those thoughts to drown for now, focusing on him and his gentle gaze. 

“Thank you.” You give him a small smile, and his hand moves to cup your cheek, swiping his thumb back and forth. 

“‘Course. But, I gotta get somethin’ off my chest before we take this whole datin’ thing any further.” 

You furrow your brows, and the way his gaze shifts to a pleading look makes you nervous. What could it possibly be? 

“I know this ain’t for everyone, and I understand if you don’t wanna see me anymore after this–” He pauses, lips twisting to the side as his eyes move to the ground, “But I really hope this doesn’t change what we got goin’ on. I really do like you, darlin’.” 

“What is it, Joel?” You can’t even concentrate on the sweet words that just oozed out of his mouth. Your stomach was coiling into an unwanted knot, endless possibilities of what he has to say in mind. 

“I have a daughter.” 

That’s what he was worried about? Oh. 

“Oh wow, that’s amazing, Joel. Why would you think I wouldn’t want to see you after you told me this?” You’re the one reassuring him now, gently grabbing his face in your hands before swiping your thumbs over the stubble on his jaw. 

“You’d be surprised how many women have run for the hills after I’ve told them that.” A sad chuckle bubbles from his throat, and you lean forward to kiss his nose. 

“Not this one, cowboy.” 

-

Joel didn’t tell you a single thing about where he was taking you. All he told you was to dress comfortably for the hot weather and wear some walking shoes, so you opted for a tank top and jeans with rips at the knees and your comfiest shoes. 

You heard a knock on the front door of your apartment, and you eagerly checked the peephole before opening up the door. You grinned at Joel, but stopped short when you saw him wearing a Stetson. 

Fuck, he looked so good.

“Howdy.” He greets in true cowboy fashion, and you can’t help the laugh that bubbles in your throat. 

“Howdy there, cowboy.” You flick the brim of his hat teasingly before grabbing your purse, locking up as you both head down to his truck. 

“So you’re still not gonna tell me where we’re heading to?” You ask once you’re both buckled in, and the truck roars to life. 

“You’ll see in a few minutes. Jus’ wanted to surprise you a little for our first… of hopefully many… dates.” He mumbles the last part under his breath, but your heart rate accelerates knowing he wanted to continue to see you. 

Soft tunes play within the confines of the cab of the truck and you look out of your window. It was all flatlands for a few miles, and then you both hit a bit of traffic, but you could easily see the huge ferris wheel from where you were at. 

You gasped as you sat straight in your seat, eyes shooting to Joel. “You’re taking me to the state fair?” You couldn’t contain your excitement. You absolutely loved the nostalgia the fair brought you, and you hadn’t been in a few years. 

“Mhm.” He says, tugging at his shirt collar with his index finger nervously. 

You grin and lean over the center console, giving him a kiss on the cheek. 

“Thank you. I’m so excited.” 

Joel smiles at your words and reaches for your hand, giving it a squeeze. 

“I’m glad. I was hopin’ you’d be into this idea. I know it’s not a traditional first date in any sense, but I gotta keep ya on your toes.” Joel winks at you, and you toss your head back with a laugh. 

“Miller, you’ve done that since the first words we spoke to each other at Rosemary’s. I know we’ve only known each other a short time, but I really do like you and it’s nice to be in the company of someone who actually puts thought into things like this. It means a lot.” 

“‘M glad you feel that way, darlin’. It means a great deal that you think so highly of me.” His tone is playful, but his words are sincere. 

“Only ‘cus you literally saved me from being trapped in my car. No biggie.” You huff a laugh, and he wraps his right arm around your shoulder to give your body a light shake. 

You both sit in a comfortable silence before making it to the parking lot. Once you find a parking spot, you  practically drag Joel to the ticket booth to purchase admission into the fair. He couldn’t help but laugh and admire your eagerness. 

“Okay,” He starts, looking at you with hopeful eyes. “Where to first?” 

“I’m actually pretty hungry. Wanna start off with food?” You ask him, and he nods immediately. You link your hand with his, and he lets you keep your fingers interlocked, so you lead him toward the so-called food court of the fair. 

The array of smells coming from every which way had you practically salivating. You ended up getting some wings and fries with a side of fried pickles, while Joel got a turkey leg and blooming onion. 

You make your way to a table and settle in, diving into your food. You push your plate of fried pickles toward Joel, and he happily plucks a couple off the plate and pops them into his mouth. 

“I swear there’s nothing on this Earth like fair food.” He hums, shaking his head as he chews on another fried pickle. 

“Agreed,” You say, eating a couple of fried pickles yourself before you speak up again. “So, tell me about Sarah, if you’d like.” 

Joel’s eyes avert to yours at the mention of her name, and the biggest smile overtakes his features. His eyes crinkle in pure happiness and he’s elated that you want to hear about his baby girl. 

“She’s so charismatic. Most sure fourteen year old you’d ever meet,” He starts with a grin as he begins to gather all the intel about his daughter so he can tell you exactly what she’s like. “She’s so smart, n’ I’m not jus’ sayin’ that ‘cus I’m her dad, but she really does carry such intelligence. She’s witty, funny, sarcastic, and just so damn bright. She easily captivates a crowd in a room with her wit n’ charm, which she obviously gets from me.” Joel boasts with a proud look on his face before shooting you a wink. 

You can’t help but giggle at the way he jokes, but you deeply admire the way he talks about her. You can tell she’s his whole world and more, and seeing a father love his daughter as much as he does warms your heart immensely. 

Joel was starting to show his heart on his sleeve. It was like uncovering invisible ink inch by inch. 

“She sounds absolutely wonderful. I’m sure she keeps you on your toes.” 

“She absolutely does.” He can’t help the pride that blooms in his chest. Raising her as a single parent wasn’t easy, but he made do. He thought he did a pretty good job. 

“If you don’t mind me asking, what happened to Sarah’s mom?” Joel gave you a sad smile, and maybe that wasn’t territory you should’ve crossed, you think. 

“She left shortly after Sarah was born. Didn’t wanna deal with bein’ a parent so young n’ all. I might’ve raised her all by myself, but her n’ I grew up together. She’s taught me endless love and so much patience.” 

“Oh Joel, I’m sorry–” He shakes his head, stopping you mid-sentence. 

“It’s okay, darlin’. Sarah n’ I navigate life together. That’s just how it is. We’re so used to it that having her mother in the picture would honestly be very weird.” He plucks another fried pickle from your plate, popping it into his mouth with a sly grin. You can’t help but return the smile. 

“Well, thank you for sharing that with me. I’m sure it probably wasn’t easy.” 

Joel shrugs, “It got easier to talk about overtime. Sarah n’ I are great.” 

“Does she know you’re on a date right now?” You’re curious. You don’t want to be the person that suddenly barges into their lives and disrupts their routine or anything. Sarah sounds so sweet, and the last thing you wanted was to intervene between the two. 

“She does, actually. She’s been hecklin’ me to go out n’ date again. She’s on the varsity soccer team at school n’ since she spends so much time with her team, she didn’t want me to be lonely. She was excited when I told her I was goin’ on a date today.” 

“She just wants you to be happy,” You say, and he nods. “Don’t blame her. I’d want the same for you, too.” 

“I am happy. You make me happy. Don’t know what it is about you that’s got me feelin’ so crazy inside. Feels like I’m a teenage boy again.” Joel laughs, and your eyes widen, because that’s exactly how you feel. 

“Joel, that’s—”

You heard your name being called from a short distance away, and your head swiveled around to lock eyes with none other than your sister. 

“Shit.” You say under your breath, and Joel’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

“What’s the matter?” He asks, but before you could answer, your sister and her fiancé stroll up to the table. 

“Hey sis! Didn’t know you’d be here today.” She has a shit-eating grin on her face, like she just caught you doing something you weren’t supposed to be doing. 

“Didn’t know you’d be here either.” You give her a tight-lipped smile, eyes shifting to the man standing beside her. 

“Hi Josh.” You greet him with a small wave, and the sympathy in his eyes is enough of a forewarning that you were going to be in for it from your sister. 

“So who’s this?” Your sister gestures to Joel, and you glare at her briefly. You felt heat creep up your body, feeling a little ticked off. You wanted to keep Joel a mystery just a little longer. 

“This is Joel. Joel, this is my sister and her fiancé Josh.” You introduce them three, and while you’re feeling nothing short of embarrassed, Joel has a big smile on his face as he extends his hand to shake both of theirs. 

“Nice to meet y’all.” He says, and your sister beams. 

“Ah, so you’re the mystery firefighter my sister always gushes about,” She laughs, and you groan and hide your face behind your hands. “Thank you for getting her out of that horrible car accident, by the way.” Her voice was coated with sincerity and gratefulness. 

“‘S no problem, really. I’d rescue her any day.” He looks at you as you peek an eye through your fingers, and he shoots you a wink. 

Your sister ‘aww’s at Joel’s words. 

The heat in your face never wavers and you hide your face again, shaking your head in pure embarrassment. 

“So when’s the wedding?” Joel asks politely, making conversation so awkwardness doesn’t roll over the four of you. 

Your sister can’t help but gleam when she answers him, “August tenth! You should come. It would be so much fun.” 

Your hands evade your face, and you look up at your sister with furrowed brows and a panicked stare. What the hell was she doing? 

Joel looked at you for a second with a small smile, and you wanted so badly to shrink into yourself and let the world swallow you whole. 

“Love to, only if this one would like me to go.” He nudges your foot under the table playfully, and an awkward chuckle escapes you. 

“You’d be subjected to my family if you went, Joel. I’m not sure you’d wanna deal with… all that.” 

Your sister laughs at your words, “She does have a fair point. Our brothers and cousins are quite the rowdy bunch.” 

“I like a challenge.” Joel smirks, eyes locking with yours. 

“I like him even more now.” Your sister laughs, nudging you on your shoulder. 

You shoo her hand away, rolling your eyes. “Okay, okay. It’s up to you, Joel, but I’m giving you a huge warning in advance.” 

He grins at you and grabs your hand from across the table, gently swiping his thumb over your soft skin. 

“Well, It was nice to meet you, Joel. Josh and I are gonna head out and grab a funnel cake.” Your sisters bids you both goodbye, and you and Joel both say your goodbyes before they walk off. 

“God, Joel, I am so sorry. I hope you don’t feel pressured into going to her wedding or anything. I know it’s like a month away and–”

Joel stops you with a kiss to the back of your hand. “Not at all, darlin’. But if you rather I not go, then I won’t. ‘S up to you.” 

“It’s not that–it’s just–,” You sigh, trying to find the right wording. “I’ve been single for so long. My last relationship didn’t end well, and my family is overprotective of me because they don’t wanna see me get hurt again. They can be… a bit much, sometimes.” 

You look at him, and he gives your hand a squeeze. 

“I mean, that’s understandable. Nobody likes seein’ members of their family gettin’ hurt, especially in a relationship. ‘M sorry your last one ended badly, but baby, if you let me, I’d love to give you everythin’ I can. I know this datin’ thing is scary, because hell, it took me so long to say yes to someone’s advances, but I really do like you and I would love to see where this goes.” 

You’re elated by Joel’s words. He was just so damn sweet and you genuinely felt like you didn’t deserve any of this. Dating is a scary thing, and the thought of giving yourself to someone again, letting them in to get to know all of you, terrified you. 

But, your sister's words ring in your head, once again. The world won’t end if you give up an ounce of control. 

“I’m glad you said yes to my advances.” You say, and Joel lifts your hands to his lips once again, giving it several kisses. 

“‘M happy I did, too.” 

-

“So which game do you want to play?” Joel asks, looking back at you as you try to fall into step with him. It was a couple of hours later, the sunset starting to creep in. 

“The water gun game. Love that one.” You grin, and he leads the way to the last two empty seats on the side. Joel hands the man running the game four tickets as you both settle in your seats, and you flash Joel a smirk. 

“Get ready to get your ass handed to you, cowboy.” Your shoulders shake with laughter as he gives you a look. He didn’t expect a competitive side to come out of you, but he liked it. A lot. 

“‘M ready, baby. Don’t hold back now.” He laughs as you both take hold of the metal machines, hovering your thumbs over the red buttons on the top. The bell goes off to start, and you zero in on getting the water into the tiny target. You don’t even think you blink until the bell goes off, signifying that someone won. 

You look up at the poles, and although Joel beat you, neither of you won. Some guy at the other end won and picked out a prize for his girlfriend and gave her a big kiss after she got a big plushie. 

You smile at the scene before you, and Joel notices you looking at them. He was determined to win something for you, because he wanted you to remember this day. 

He leads you over to a ball throwing game where he has to knock down bottles on three tiers of shelves. Nobody else was at the stand, so he got the opportunity to show off and impress you. 

You couldn’t help the way your eyes moved to the rippling biceps beneath the hem of his shirt, trailing them up to his tan neck, to the slightly graying stubble on his jaw, to his plush lips and strong angular nose, and his pretty eyes. His soft brown curls were barely peeking out from under his Stetson, and all you wanted to do was take his hat off and run your fingers through his hair. 

He’s a fucking dreamboat, and you really couldn’t believe that you were able to pull someone like him. 

“This one’s for you, baby.” He turns to wink at you, catching you staring at him. Heat shoots up to your face and you give him a shy smile, watching as he easily knocks down five bottles. Even the game attendant was impressed, and Joel pulled you into his side so you could pick out whichever stuffed animal you wanted. 

You chose a big teddy bear that was squishy, giving Joel a kiss on the cheek and thanking him for winning it for you. 

“So how many teddy bears have you won for previous women? You made that look too easy.” You joke, nudging his side as you both walk away from the game. 

“Mm, around thirty. I’m a regular here.” Joel deadpans. Your mouth drops open in mock offense, and the most guttural laugh erupts from his chest. 

“Jus’ you, baby. Tommy n’ I used to play catch a lot.” He reassures you, and you quirk your brow at him. 

“Better be, Miller, or there’ll be hell to pay.” You poke his chest with no malice behind your actions. 

“I bet there will be, darlin’.” He catches your hand and spins you around so your back is flush against his front, and he kisses your neck. He’s moving ahead of you before you even have time to process what just happened, but excitement zinged through your body at his gesture. 

You walk for about five minutes before you spot a photo booth not even twenty feet away. You stop him in his tracks and look at him with the best pleading eyes you can muster up. 

“Would you hate me if I asked you to take pictures with me?” You nod your head toward the photo booth, and Joel looks taken aback. 

“Hate you? I could never. I’d love to take pictures with you.” 

You guess you didn’t realize your wording before you said it. You were so used to your ex hating things you wanted to do, including taking photos to capture memories. He always made you feel bad about it, so you stopped doing it so much after you broke up. You just didn’t realize that the shitty feeling was still buried somewhere inside you. 

Joel tugs you along to the photo booth, sliding in first. The bench was extremely small, and it was nearly impossible to fit both of you side-by-side. 

“Jus’ sit on my lap.” Joel suggests, spreading his legs and patting his thigh. You swallow harshly and nod, sitting on his lap.

 You both get situated and put the two dollars in the machine before pressing the start button. Joel grabs on to your hips, and you nearly melt into a fucking puddle at his touch. 

It’d been so long since anyone has simply touched you, so your whole body was buzzing with nerves and excitement. 

You both smile for the first photo. You didn’t know what to do next, so you threw up a peace sign, Joel following your lead. For the third photo, you grabbed Joel’s face and gently squished him between your forefinger and thumb, sticking your tongue out.

You look at the screen and realize Joel was staring at you, so you turn your head to look at him. His smile is soft and his eyes are hooded, glancing down at your lips. 

You pluck his Stetson off of his head, covering half of your faces as Joel leans in and closes the gap, kissing you gently. Your body melts into his as you bring your other hand up to his curls, running your fingers through them to cradle the back of his head. His arms tighten around you, and he deepens the kiss, turning his head to the side. 

The last sound of the shutter goes off, but neither of you pull away. The arm holding his hat moves to rest on his shoulder as your lips move in tandem. You don’t know how long you were there just kissing. It was gentle and sweet, but there was a ferocious hunger that was brewing beneath the surface. You both felt it. 

You had to pull away before you lost all control, so you regrettably separated yourself from him. He rubbed his nose against yours, breathing a little ragged, before he leaned back to look at you. 

He cups your face and swipes his thumb over your cheekbone, giving you one last peck as reality trickles back down around you both once more. You put his hat back on his head before standing up from his lap, an unavoidable neediness coursing through your body. 

You grabbed both of the photo strips that were printed, smiling at them when you saw what they looked like. You never thought you’d admit to yourself ever again that you looked good with someone else by your side, but you couldn’t deny the sparkle in your eyes that you saw in the photos—all because of Joel. 

It scared you, truthfully. The thought of relying on someone else for happiness or reassurance just didn’t sit well with you quite yet, but what was the point of it all if you weren’t willing to let yourself just try? 

An hour passed before beautiful hues of orange, purple and pink took over as dusk settled on the horizon of the sky. You and Joel decided to split a funnel cake, but not without getting powdered sugar all over yourselves. 

“You got a little…” Joel trails off as he reaches his thumb out to the corner of your mouth, swiping off some stray powdered sugar before popping his thumb into his mouth. You lick your lips and watch him carefully, the ache of arousal only getting worse. 

“Wanna go on the ferris wheel?” You ask, desperate to distract yourself from your undying want for this man. 

“Love to.” 

You both dust off any powdered sugar left behind on your shirts, walking hand-in-hand to the ferris wheel. Joel gave the ride attendant the last six tickets he had, and you both climbed on. 

You were silent for most of the ride, admiring all the twinkling lights and patrons below. You glance at Joel who was already looking at you once again, and you can’t help the smile from forming. 

“Thank you so much for today. I had a lot of fun.” 

“‘Course, darlin’. ‘M glad I got to do this with you.” 

“Me too. I have some pretty great souvenirs, too.” You clutch onto your teddy bear, and he shakes his head with a laugh. 

The ferris wheel came to a stop, and you realized you were both at the top as you looked down at the fairgrounds below. 

“Would it be super fuckin’ cheesy and cliché if I asked you to kiss me right now?” Joel asks, scooting closer to you. 

“It would,” You start, leaning in to him. “But I don’t care. Be as cheesy and cliché as you’d like.” 

He grins before tipping your chin up with his thumb and forefinger, pressing his lips to yours once more. This time was a bit different. Joel kissed you with more force, neediness coursing through his body just as much as yours. 

He swiped his tongue against your bottom lip, and you immediately parted your lips for him. You couldn’t help the moan that bubbled in your throat as you moved closer to him, gripping onto his bicep. 

It was so easy to get lost in him. It was easy to talk with him, to laugh with him, to be with him. So, so fucking easy. 

You’d never felt this way about anyone before. It was wild to think about, because you just met him not even a month ago, but you could see yourself being so unapologetically happy with him. 

It might’ve been insane to think about that so early on, but your gut was telling you that you finally chose right. 

You were so wrapped up in each other and the heated kiss you were exchanging that you didn’t even realize the ferris wheel started moving again, and you eventually reached the bottom. The ride attendant awkwardly cleared their throat with a tight-lipped smile, and you immediately pulled away from Joel. 

You were mortified as you uttered ‘sorry’ at least five times before getting off the ride with Joel. 

Joel couldn’t help but laugh that you two had been caught, but he couldn’t care less. He felt so himself and so carefree around you. 

“Should we head back to yours?” He asks, a hint of desperation in his tone. You couldn’t even find the right words because your brain was absolute mush, so you just nod your head in agreement. 

The ride home didn’t take long, but as soon as you walked through your apartment door with him and set your prize and purse down, he was on you. He gently pushed you up against the door, hands wrapping around you as one moved down to your lower back. 

He separated his lips from yours for a second, nibbling on your chin. “Is it okay if I touch you?” He asks, voice filled with hope. 

God, please, yes. Touch me everywhere, you think. 

“Yes.” You whisper, and his lips are on yours once again. His tongue invaded your mouth, this kiss even hungrier than it was on the ferris wheel. One of his hands moved down to your ass, and you moaned into his mouth at the touch, fisting the back of his shirt into your hand in desperation. 

He moved you away from the door and walked backward toward your couch, plopping down on it. He immediately yanks your hips down so you’re straddling him, and you gently take the Stetson off of his head before setting it to the side. You crash your lips to his once again, both of your hands cupping his cheeks as you press yourself into his crotch unintentionally. 

Joel groans at the sensation, cock stirring in his jeans as you both continue to invade each other’s mouths, all teeth and tongue. His hands move down to your ass, giving it a squeeze as he guides you to rock your hips against his. 

You don’t even shy away anymore. You want this—you want him. But you had to pace yourself, not wanting to bite off more than you can chew. You ground your hips into his, clit catching perfectly onto the seam of your jeans as you felt his bulge straining against the denim he was wearing. 

“Fuck, Joel.” You whine, biting your bottom lip as you separate your lips from his. 

“I know, baby. Feels good, doesn’t it?” He’s breathless as he moves you a little faster, and you nod your head feverishly. 

“Yeah–yes–fuck, it does. So good.” Your arousal was coating your panties, slick and warm as your cunt ached to be touched. 

Slow. Slow, you had to remind yourself.  

You’d just have to take care of yourself after he left tonight. 

“Fuck–darlin’ I think we should–wait.” Joel tries to find the words as they barely register in his head. 

You slow your hips down, panting against him and you nod. 

“I know. We should take it slow.” You say, and he licks his lips with a nod. 

“Yeah. Don’t get me wrong, as much as I’d love to–I jus’– I haven’t been with anyone in a real long time, and I don’t wanna fuck this up. I wanna do this right.” 

“I know, Joel. I’m with you. I wanna take this slow, too. I like you a lot and I wanna do this right with you as well.” 

Your eyes bored into his brown ones, sparkling with hope and happiness. He kissed your cheek a few times before nosing at your jaw, hands moving up to settle on your hips again. 

He pulled back and looked at you with that same soft smile on his handsome face—a sight you knew you’d never tire of. 

You’d quickly come to a revelation as you stared at him, chest heaving up and down as you desperately tried to catch your breath: you were falling—and this time, you didn’t want to get back up. 

tags: @ilovepedro ; @nostalxgic ; @endlessthxxghts ; @pamasaur ; @clawdee ; @pascalpvnk ; @bensonispunk ; @merz-8 ; @darkblue-tennesseee ; @buckyispunk ; @untamedheart81 ; @picketniffler ; @fluffygoffpanda ; @paleidiot ; @typewriter83 ; @lizzie-cakes ; @sawymredfox ; @keylimebeag ; @nandan11

divider by @saradika-graphics

[redwing4life]

ASHES TO EMBERS MASTERLIST

PAIRING: Firefighter!Neighbor!Bucky x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: Night terrors (bucky), copious amounts of fluff, angst if you don’t search too hard for it, smut, firefighter bucky is a warning in itself

SUMMARY: When an unfortunate event forces you to confront the crush you’ve had on your neighbour since you moved in, you learn that Bucky knows you better than you know yourself. As the two of you grow closer, how does he deal with his past without pushing you away.

CHAPTERS: 5 - Ongoing

tap whichever chapter title you want and enjoy reading <3

ONE: Forgotten Alarms

WARNINGS: Mentions of night terrors, trapped in small spaces, brief mention of reader being worried about bucky holding her weight, nothing else other than bucky being cute af

SUMMARY: When you get stuck in an elevator with your neighbour (who also happens to be your crush), you discover your interest in the firefighter isn’t as one-sided as you thought.

TWO: Shadows

WARNINGS: Fluff, talk about night terrors, ALPINEEE, reader continues to be oblivious, bucky being a flirt

SUMMARY: After yesterday’s elevator fiasco, you’re left with the guilt of overstepping in Bucky’s business. He could barely look at you when you went to the firehouse to thank the crew, so it’s fair to say you’re surprised when he turns up at the cafe you work at.

THREE: For You

WARNINGS: Mention of night terrors, Bucky being upset, fluff, flashbacks containing the death of a child, plenty of unholy thoughts, half naked bucky, dirty talk???, sexual tension, please let me know if i’ve missed something!!!

SUMMARY: You find Bucky at his most vulnerable when he’s sent home from work at 2 in the morning. While doing everything you can to comfort him, you realise you’re falling for him.

FOUR:

a/n: please lmk if you know the creator of the ai bucky images, full credit to them!!!!!

comment if you’d like to be added to my ashes to embers taglist 🧡

[kquil]

JAMES POTTER | 16:49 ⏤ FREE GOODIES

SUM. : you had more baked goods than you were able to sell and decide to give them out for free to the firefighters at your local fire station to say thank you

TAGS. : fluff ; modern au ; muggle au ; baker reader ; firefighter james ; james being a love sick puppy ; he hides it well though ; remus and sirius begin scheming ; everyone knows james is in love ; it's obvious to everyone but you

LENGTH : 1.6k

NOT PROOFREAD OR EDITED

“No! Don’t tell me!” you giggle as the man behind the counter grins widely and laughs along with you, his hazel eyes carefully watching as you bring up a brown paper bag and a steaming take-away cup of coffee, “Our special BLT sandwich and a dark roast, cocoa blend to go,”

“All ready for me, huh?” James teases as you smile innocently. He pays for his order and goes to inspect the contents of the brown paper bag as you move behind the cash register and file away his notes, “And a mini treacle tart!” James’ voice lights up in cheerful surprise when he sees the unexpected treat but hurriedly goes in search for more payment in his wallet. 

“Don’t you dare, James,” you scold light-heartedly, “it’s on the house,” his movements stop and he meets your eyes, ready to retaliate. However, sensing your seriousness, his shoulders slacken and his expression eases into a grateful smile instead. 

“Thanks, you’re an angel,” of course, he couldn’t help but send you a wink. His words spread a heat across your cheeks but you pay it no mind, hoping that any signs of your flustered state can be ignored as long as you didn’t draw attention to it. 

“I know I am~” 

“Take care, angel,” with a toothy grin and a wave, James turns and leaves, his day already looking as bright as could be. 

James has been visiting your little bakery and cafe for the better part of a year now; he’s become one of your beloved regulars, maybe one of your most beloved. He was just too handsome and charming for his own good, cute and sweet and always gentleman with you. His uncontrollable dark curls and round glasses gave him this boyish appeal that you couldn’t help but fall for. His voice is smooth and comforting, his eyes a mesmerising hazel, his lips a pretty shape—

“Hey!” snapping out of your daze, you turn to your co-worker in shock.

“Wh-what?”

She smirks and wiggles her brows at you, “I knew you had a thing for him,”

“Oh shush Leona!” you huff and fold your arms but burn hotter in the cheeks when she laughs at you. 

“No need to deny it, I can see why you’re so head over heels~”

“Is that any way to talk to your boss?” making your way over, you playfully nudge her side as you plant yourself beside her and help with the cupcake decorations. 

Gasping, Leona grasps at her chest in mock offence, “I never believed you were that kind of boss! I was tricked—!” her mock ramblings were cut off with another nudge to her side that sent the both of you into a fit of giggles. 

“What should we do with all this?” you ask with a huff, staring in disappointment at all the leftovers in your display cases. Most would only end up in the trash and it broke your heart to see such goodies go to waste. 

“Why don’t you donate them at the local police station or fire department?” Leona suggests with a smile as she wipes down surfaces, “The fire department isn’t too far from here so you can go there first and do the police station on another day we have extra leftovers,”

Smiling brightly, you nod and get to work, “Brilliant idea Leona! How come I’ve never thought of that before?” 

“Maybe because you’re too busy all the time?” with a light-hearted pout, she faces you and presses on about how you need to consider yourself as a priority for once and actually go home on time. She had a point; the bakery was consuming your life. But you worked hard on the things that mattered to you and that was always a trait you were proud of. Every day you return home with pride and fulfilment in your heart; you loved that feeling despite the ache in your limb. Sighing, your enthusiasm slows considerably but you keep on packing up a random selection of baked goods, “Just think about it at least, boss,” Leona comes up behind you and gives you a quick but heartfelt hug, “we want you to be our boss forever so you have to stay healthy,” just like she always does, she brings a smile to your lips and slowly helps you with packing up the rest. 

With the bakery closed up, you head out with your packaged leftovers piled high in the passenger seat of your car and wave goodbye to Leona before pulling away. She was right in saying that the fire station wasn’t too far, it was a short five-minute drive from your bakery with parking close by too. 

It was a little unnerving. You had never done this before. And, even though you knew there was nothing wrong with doing this, your nerves still caused a stir in your chest and stomach at the thought of facing such brave and dedicated workers. However, it was that simple thought that pushed you forward. These men and women deserved free baked goodies and more for all of their hard work, there was no need to be shy about it. Balancing the stacked packages in your arms, you push the front door open with your back and carefully turn around as you step into the space. 

“Whoa, you need help with those?” someone calls from your left and you turn to see a handsome brunette, standing tall with an almost invisible dusting of freckles on his nose and a faint scar across his cheek and jaw. 

“Good afternoon!” you chirp happily and sheepishly accept his kind assistance, “I— umm, I wanted to give you guys some of the baked goods from my bakery. We made a little too much today,”

He grins widely as he appraises the tall stack of packages before turning to you with gratefulness in his eyes, “So that’s what smells so delicious,” the two of you share a laugh, “Thank you so much for this, it’s very kind of you,” a warm heat coats your cheeks as you shyly wave off his praise, which he shakes his head at discreetly but still maintains his happy grin, “come,” he tilts his head to one direction, “lets go feed everyone,” 

Remus introduces himself as he leads you down a hallway to the lounge room, where he suspected most of his colleagues congregated to. When you give your name in return, he tilts his head and mutters something unintelligible under his breath.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” 

“Oh nothing,” he chuckles softly, “I just thought it sounded familiar,” you had questions but shrugged and shrugged them off as unimportant when the two of you finally made it into the lounge area. Entering the space, you see the firemen scattered around the wide room, a group were playing cards around a table with several spectators, one or two were reading a book while another small group stood by a small kitchenette with steaming mugs, chatting between themselves. 

“Remus!” a dark haired man with a visible neck tattoo walks up from where he stood observing the card game, just so he could sling his arm over the brunette’s broad shoulders, “Who’s our cute guest?”

Remus introduces you and the purpose of your visit but his voice slowly fades into the background as soon as you meet eyes with a very familiar pair of hazel pools. 

“James?” blinking in surprise, you tilt your head and observe the man in his fireman uniform, minus the heavy jacket, leaving him in a black compression shirt to showcase his muscles. It made your cheeks heat up again but hotter. You had no idea how brawny he was with his soft charm and sweet face. But this was a very pleasant surprise. 

The man in question stands up, staring at you as if in a trance and makes his way over as Remus and his raven-haired friend step away with devious grins on their faces. They weren’t the only ones however, everybody else in the room looked on with a similar grin stretching across their lips, slightly leaning forward in their interest. 

“Wh-what are you doing here?” he sounds like he’s choking on air, breathless and in complete disbelief at the sight of you. 

“I uh– there were some leftover goodies at the bakery so I thought I could give them to you guys…as a thank you for all your good work,” you admit softly, staring up at him with timid eyes and watching with a gradually racing heart as a toothy grin takes over his features. His eyes sparkled with mirth under the fluorescent light and your heart skipped a beat in your chest. How does he do that? 

“You’re really too kind,” and so perfect James wanted to finish, ignorant to his friends’ snickering. Please be mine! It was a desperate wish and one that he had been making for a long time but he needed to keep his cool. He understands how overbearing and clingy he could be at times and didn’t want to frighten you.  

“You guys deserve it,” you return and silently hold up your packages with a smile. Happily, he takes the load and leads you to a table where he helps spread them out for his friends and colleagues to take as they please. Everyone around you gushes at the array and sings your praises in between their gratitude for the kind gesture. Amongst all the chatter, you also manage to hear soft whisperings that didn’t quite fit the rest of the words at the forefront of surrounding conversations. 

“That’s the cute baker Jamesie has been gushing about for months now, huh?”

“Seems so. Finally, we can put a name to the face,”

There was some laughter, “He looks like a love sick puppy,”

From the corner of your eye, you observe James and the goofy grin on his face, trapped in a daze as he stares down at you with adoring eyes and a soft blush on his cheeks. In your head, you make a mental note to visit the fire department more often. 

A/N : it just feels right that James is a firefighter, right? i'm not the only one who thinks this? nevertheless, i hopefully managed to convince you lovelies otherwise hehehe~

NAVI.

TAGLIST : @melinajenkins @aastonishment @until-i-found-you @corp0real @sageskisses444 @celestcies @lovelydoveval @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @calums-betch @futurecorps3 @hihihi1112 @simpingforthe80s @yrluvjane @chaosofmanyfandoms @storyofaromance @loving-and-dreaming @somewereinthegalaxi @fortheeeefics @cassandra-nerezza-black @stray-bi-kids @ttkttt @notasadgirlipromise @ghostgardn @rosalyn-s @seungtelevision

[togrowoldinv]

Early

Firefighter Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

When Natasha gets off work early, she comes home to find you in need of her

Warnings: Smut! 18+ please! Kissing, cursing, R taking care of business solo, fingering (R receiving), Nat being cocky as always

Note: Firefighter Nat 🔥 Enjoy!

Burning Red AU, Main Masterlist

“Baby, I’m home early!” Natasha calls out as she enters your newly shared home. “Babe?” She calls out again when she gets no response.

Nat walks further into the house and pours herself a glass of water. That’s when she hears soft moans coming from the bedroom. Her first reaction is worry, but then she listens closer.

She waits by the slightly cracked bedroom door and listens again. She would know that sound anywhere. Nat patiently lets you get further along before she pushes the door open.

“Are you close?” Natasha’s voice sounds through the room.

“Fuck,” you mumble as you quickly pull the covers over you and drop your phone onto the bed. “I’m sorry, Nat.”

“No, no. Don’t apologize,” Natasha says. She is wearing an amused smile. “And don’t let me interrupt.”

You feel heat all over your body at the way she grins at you. Nat makes her way over to the bed. She is wearing gray sweatpants and a shirt from work. You always think that attire is one of her best looks.

“What were you looking at, hm?” Natasha asks, sitting on the edge of the bed. She reaches for your phone, but you grip her hand before she can pick it up. “Oh, come on, babe. It can’t be that bad. I won’t judge.”

“No, it’s just um- it’s not bad,” you say. Nat eases her hand out of your grasp and picks up the phone.

You wait anxiously as she looks at the screen. She sees an album with photos full of her. Ones she has sent you and you have taken of her.

“You were looking at me?” She asks, her lips quirked into a smirk.

“Yeah,” you admit, not quite able to make eye contact with her.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Nat says.

“Really?” You ask shyly.

“Yeah, sweetheart.” Natasha brings her hand to your face and makes you look at her. “Do you do this often?”

You shrug, and Nat chuckles.

“Let me rephrase that. I hope you do this often. I don’t want my baby so achy and needy,” Nat adds.

You blush at her words. Natasha reaches for the covers and pulls them down from your chest. She sees you’re in a lacy bra with essentially no coverage. She likes this one.

She asks for permission with her eyes before reaching behind you to unclip the bra. Nat takes her time feeling every inch of your breasts with her strong hands. The difference between her work warn skin and your soft skin makes every touch feel so right.

Nat leans in but stops short of kissing you.

“You know you never answered my question,” Natasha says, her voice dripping with lust. “Are you close?”

“I was,” you say. “But then- you know.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. But I actually think I can make it up to you,” Natasha says.

She kisses your lips and before she pulls away she licks your lip. You chase after her lips but she moves her attention to your neck. Nat drops kisses along the sensitive skin. Her hands continue to work over your breasts, taking your nipples in between her fingers.

“Natasha,” you whimper when she moves one hand down between your legs.

Her fingers easily slide through your wet folds. Nat knows it won’t take much to get you off.

“So, you were looking at me,” Natasha says between kisses to your neck and face. “Were you thinking about me too?”

You nod and Nat grips your breast harder in her hand. You know that means she wants to hear you.

“Yes I was,” you say.

“Mhm, I thought so, sweetheart,” Nat says. “What were you thinking about?”

“You taking care of me just like this,” you say. Your voice comes out labored with heavy breaths.

“Oh yeah? Was I doing this?” Nat asks, inserting two of her fingers inside of you.

“Fuck,” you whimper. “Yes. That’s it, Nat.”

“Good girl,” Natasha says. “So fucking good for me. I bet you’re already ready to come, aren’t you sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you moan out.

Natasha brings her lips back to yours and captures them in a searing kiss. With the feeling of her hand between your legs and her tongue brushing against yours, you are reaching your high in no time.

When you come back down, Natasha pulls you into a hug. Your bare body against her clothing reminds her of what state she found you in.

“Fuck yes, baby,” Natasha says. “That was much better than photos of me, hm?”

“You’re the real thing, Natasha,” you say.

“I love you,” Nat says.

“I love you too, Natasha. You’re not going to tease me later about this, are you?”

“I might,” Nat admits. “But I will also continue to give you the content you need for it.”

You smile at that. Natasha stands up from the bed and reaches for your hand. She pulls you into the bathroom and draws a bath for the two of you.

The two of you spend the rest of the evening relaxing and making each other feel so good. Natasha is so glad she got off work early.

[fushipurro]

firefighter Toji !!! also hi, I hope you don’t mind me coming into your inbox to share some little thoughts and you can ignore this if you’d like !!

I’d love to hear your thoughts on that, the idea of him cracking jokes about saving cats from trees or even starting to call you his damsel in distress if you ever ask him to help you with something, even if it’s as simple as opening a stubborn jar

or how baby megumi would be so proud to tell everyone his dad is a firefighter and always wants to wear his dads hat that is too big for his little head !!

omg i love these ideas, and i don't mind at all!! i'm really happy you sent them cause now you got the ball rolling for me to go ham :3 i hope you enjoy these thoughts and i'd love to do more in the future ♡

☆ content: mostly sfw (nsfw under the cut, MDNI), domestic fluff, suggestive themes, foreplay, rough sex, chokeplay, creampie

☆ firefighter!toji who at first thought saving cats from trees was just something you'd see on TV, but realized soon after joining the force how often of an occurrence it actually is. the two of you started keeping a tally sheet because of it, always asking when he came home from a shift "how many cats did you save today?" he soon starts to text you photos of the cats he rescues knowing how much you love them and would want to see. if he's able, he'll take selfies with them just for you.

☆ firefighter!toji who started calling you his damsel in distress for fun, but quickly made it into one of the more common pet names he'll use for you. if he catches you struggling with anything, he'll be right behind you, smirking ear to ear asking, "does my damsel need some help?" you swear he purposely tightens all the jars in the house so you have no choice but to ask him to "save you", his beloved damsel.

☆ firefighter!toji who always comes home wearing his uniform jacket and hat just for you and megs to enjoy. he loves watching megumi struggle to wear it, and even more when you're right there taking pictures of it to frame on the wall. toji keeps one of these photos tucked away in his wallet and another of you in a nice cocktail dress and heels wearing his jacket after he had to bring you to the station during one of your dates for a sudden fire call.

☆ firefighter!toji who megumi always draws pictures of in school, always excited when his father comes around to show him off to his classmates. if he's able to, toji will sometimes pick megumi up from school in one of the rigs, throwing his hat on the boy and letting him play with the lights and sirens as they leave the lot. when christmas comes around, the station always dresses toji up as santa to toss candy to the neighborhood kids, megumi right there with him to help as his favorite little elf.

☆ firefighter!toji who loves when he can bring you the station to show you off for all the pancake breakfasts and warm weather grilling events they host. just seeing you in those beautiful sundresses always brings a smile to his face and even more when he sneaks you off to his rig to see how you look underneath the fabric.

☆ firefighter!toji who loves when you visit the station in your free time to deliver baked goods or a homecooked meal if he's had a busy day. you can't help but feel your core heat up seeing him in his uniform pants, topless with a sheen of sweat from working out, and when he slides down the pole just to meet you? you can bet you'll have him all to yourself at a moment's notice behind a closed door until the dispatch alarm inevitably goes off.

☆ firefighter!toji who has to try his hardest not to break his pager when it goes off during sex, swearing it always happens right before one of you climaxes. he never does though, not when he knows there's lives to save and every second counts but boy does it frustrate him. as he flies out the door, he always manages to kiss you and to wait up for him. when he does come home after a call, he's quick to express just how pent up he is, turning it into an intense lovemaking session that leaves you marked more than normal and needing to be carried around after like the damsel you are.

the two of you had just finished enjoying a nice dinner together and were enjoying the rest of your evening deep into some foreplay. toji originally wanted to take his sweet time catching up with you and your body after some busy shifts. the recent holidays had kept him away more often and he missed you more than words could say.

he barely had his shirt off, biding his time worshipping his damsel's body before even thinking of pleasuring himself. with that said, his cock strained against the fabric that held him back from plunging right into the clothed heat he was rubbing himself against. toji had his hands wrapped around your breasts, tongue flicking over each bud drawing you closer and closer to your high until all of a sudden, ~BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP~

your bodies froze instantly, going silent as he listened intently to whether or not his station was being dispatched and the nature of the call.

"fuckin' hell." he growled, reaching for his shirt. you stood up as well, throwing on your silk robe and going to gather his wallet and keys to remote start it for him.

when he met you at the front door, you reached up to kiss his scowling face, handing the man his belongings. "good luck, be safe, and i love you, toji." the three phrases you always tell him before he leaves as a blessing of sorts.

"love you too, y/n. i'll be back as soon as i can." he cupped your chin, staring deep into your eyes with a cold and desiring expression. his voice went low, causing your body to shiver with anticipation, "don't play with yourself before i'm home, i intend to finish what we started."

after he left, you waited by the window to watch him speed off before returning to your shared room. it hit you now being back in the sheets that he had unintentionally edged you and you ached for that sweet ecstasy to take you. but he gave you his orders, and all you could do was lay there staring at the ceiling, twiddling your thumbs to distract yourself from the heat pooling between your legs.

it was an agonizing wait, but once you heard the front door slam, you shot up to see the man already making haste towards you from the bedroom door.

"welcome home, toj─" his lips crashed into yours before you could finish your greeting, the force pushing you back against the sheets. you were familiar with how rough he can be, but this already felt more intense.

toji's body desperately clinged to yours in any way possible. his knee pressed against your exposed core, one hand holding your jaw to give him more access to mark your neck up. your fingers found purchase between his raven locks as you felt a knot tightening at your waist.

"fucking," he started to speak between starved kisses, undoing his pants as fast as humanly possible. "yet another guy who thought," he fisted himself a few times, lining the angry tip up to your entrance. "deep frying a frozen turkey was a good idea. fuck─"

a groan left both of your mouths as he pushed his way inside. he hooked his arm under your knee, drawing it upwards to give him better leverage to reach nice and deep to your g-spot.

"can't these people stick to stuffin' their birds in the damn oven safely?" he can feel your body clench around his cock, inviting him further as his pace grew. it didn't go unnoticed by the man, "oh? did my sweet girl hear something she likes?" he laughed through his nose with a smirk that reached ear to ear, his gaze like that of a predator. "bet you want me to stuff you, huh?"

you nodded your head feverishly, clinging to the sheets until your knuckles turned white.

"use your words, princess." his voice low and cold, betraying the way his body yearned for yours. "lemme hear my damsel beg for me to help."

"fuck fuck, please toji! i need you~" you whined, raising your hands above your head and rubbing your face against your bicep as your mind went crazy with lust.

toji reached for your other leg, throwing them over his thighs until he was perfectly between you. upon doing so, he leaned down, coiling his hand around your throat and pressing into the sides.

"eyes on me, sweetheart." your breath hitched as waves of pleasure coursed through you. "need to see that pretty face of yours when i stuff you full of my cum."

the vibrations from your moans ran right through his fingers and straight to his core. your high washing over you like a tidal wave with his length trapped in a vice grip. oh how toji wants to compare this force of yours against the jaws of life, betting you'd come out on top without a doubt.

he continued pumping you through your high, overstimulating you once his thumb hit your pearl. your fingers clawed at the veins running through his arms, eventually freeing your throat for you to breathe. toji moved his grip down to your waist to steady himself, chasing his pent up orgasm as another came under you that unraveled him. a deep growl leaving the man as you moaned his name freely.

he accomplished his goal in stuffing you, as evident from the thick glops of seed spilling out from inside you around his cock. "so good f'me, y/n." you could tell he was finally starting to relax from his earlier frustrations as his tone softened up.

"toji~" you mewled, looking up at him, panting in an attempt to catch your breath.

the man leaned down over you, caressing your face. he could see the red handprints forming over your body, sure to bruise later. "i know, baby. let me make it up to you, okay?" his lips came down to place gentle kisses over all the angry welts forming with praise in between. "you're such a good girl, my sweet damsel."

after that rough bout, he kept the next few rounds slow and sensual, moving you to the bath as he cleaned you off and carried you back to a clean bed. once there, toji pulled you against his chest as he whispered to you all the details from the turkey incident like a bedtime story. his fingers caressed over your stomach while his words lulled you into a deep slumber before he followed after. the next morning, toji made sure to bring your favorite breakfast to you in bed as you stirred awake, peppering you with kisses to start the day.

[narumi-gens]

firefighter!yuuji shows up late to nobara’s Halloween party. but since he just got off work, he doesn’t have time to change into a costume and just comes in his uniform. but not his full-on “runs into burning buildings carrying his weight in equipment” uniform. he comes in his daily uniform — a bright blue button-down tucked into unflattering, matching blue pants. the outfit looks more like a jumpsuit than anything else and it’s topped off with his baseball hat that proudly reads, “TOKYO FIRE DEPARTMENT.”

it’s your first time meeting him and you make a joke about whether the equipment was too expensive to rent out and he laughs and tells you he never could have gotten away with sneaking it out of the station undetected. he gives you his name with the widest smile and you give him yours.

you share drinks. you share laughs. and by the end of the night, you’ve also shared numbers. he unfortunately has to leave early, telling you that he’s covering a shift the next day, which makes you giggle because he’s still keeping the joke going.

the butterflies in your stomach are still fluttering throughout the next day. at least until you’re cooking dinner and the pan gets too hot and starts to smoke. you quickly take it off the fire and then off the stove but despite the situation being taken care of before an actual fire could start, it still sets off the smoke detector in your kitchen.

you panic and try to fan the smoke out of the kitchen as best you can. but when that doesn’t work, you open the door to your apartment hoping that will help the smoke disperse. what you haven’t accounted for is the smoke setting off the alarm in the hallway, which then sets them off throughout the rest of the building.

you can only bow repeatedly and apologetically to your landlady as she scolds you, surrounded by your neighbors who are forced to wait in the cold outside after having to evacuate. thankfully the screech of the fire truck’s siren drown her out as it appears along with Tokyo’s finest.

your landlady immediately begins to wave at them, grabbing their attention only so that she can point at you furiously. you feel like you might die of embarrassment on the spot and bury your head in your hands. the truck’s sirens cut out and your landlady starts to shout about the problem starting in your unit.

“I’m so sorry…” you mumble into your hands as you give another deep bow when you hear one of the firefighters approach and come to a stop. “I accidentally set off the alarm while cooking…”

“So, I should be the one to cook for you on our date.”

your head shoots up and your jaw drops when you see yuuji standing in front of you in his “runs into burning buildings carrying his weight in equipment” uniform, a good natured smile on his handsome face.

“I thought it was a costume!” you blurt out before quickly slapping your hands over your mouth as if that will shove the words back in.

yuuji throws his head back and laughs, the sound making you feel warm with something other than embarrassment. his eyes sparkle with mischief as he takes his helmet off, only to surprise you by placing it right on top of your head.

your hand unconsciously comes up to steady it, trying to keep its massive weight and size from sliding forward so that you can continue to look up at him with wide eyes.

“it’s a much cuter costume on you than on me,” he grins, and you’re overcome with the sudden urge to bury your face in your hands once again, if only so he doesn’t see how flustered he’s made you.

[inkdrinkerworld]

Hi lovely! May I request a spiked eggnog with lovesick and flustered firefighter!james potter?

Of course you can!

James feels his heart thud loudly as you walk into the fire department. You’re lovely as ever, the department’s very on ‘little lady on the line,’ - as him and the other fighters like to call you.

You’re dressed in red overalls, and a white long sleeved undershirt and combat boots- you always try to incorporate the department’s colours into your outfit.

“Morning Jamie, there’s a club sandwich- with bacon, and extra tomatoes- in the fridge with your name on it.”

Your voice is all sticky with fondness that makes James feel like he’s basking in it.

“Thanks doll face, there’s oatmeal raisin cookies on your desk.” You pause your walk, boots clunking to a clean stop.

James feels his heart race even faster when you turn to him and smile. “You got them fresh?” He nods; tongue heavier than lead in his mouth.

“Didn’t you just wake up though Jamie?” James feels his cheeks flood. He had been on the night shift- a grueling task mostly when you don’t have the night shift- which is most weekdays thanks to your evening school.

He also did wake up a half hour before you got here to rush to the bakery down the road to get them for you as your ‘post lunch snack.’

“I did, had a shower already and everything.” You smile and James feels like he’s going to pass out, even more so when you run your hands through his damp curls and scratch at the base of his neck.

“Thanks Jamie, you’re too kind.” The kiss you stamp on his cheek is sticky and smells like coconut, and it drives James crazy- he might not even bother with his skincare now.

“You’re… it’s” his voice strains, “it’s no trouble.” He breathes a sigh of relief when you walk back and don’t giggle at the crack in his voice.

“I’ll see you in ten hours, Potter. Get some real sleep yeah?” You call over your shoulder, not looking back to see Sirius and Remus shake James by his shoulder before teasing his completely lovelorn expression.

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

How about if Bucky was a police detective or a firefighter and ps!reader was like a baker or a nurse and she either Mets in the ER or her bakery and Bucky has like a girlfriend or someone he’s “talking” to and the someone notices that he goes in to the reader’s job more than usual and the girlfriend then goes to her job and says all this stuff but in the end Bucky and ps!reader end up together. Sorry for the rambling!!! 😅

༉‧₊˚. 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 || 𝐛𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬

― pairing: firefighter!bucky barnes x plus size!reader

― summary: falling for your avid customer bucky was never in the cards, but when a woman comes storming into your store calling you names, you began to think that he's not who he says he is.

― warnings: bullying, fat shaming, jealousy, hurt/comfort, stalking, mentions of stalking situations, angst, fluff, suggestiveness at the end, flirty bucky, angst with a happy ending.

― wc: 1482

⋆ a/n: thank you so much for this request! it was nice to work on an alternative universe fic, especially firefighter bucky!

masterlist | AO3

"Good morning sweetness!" Bucky greeted over the sound of your bell hitting the door. You flushed, rolling your eyes as you smiled shyly from behind the counter, brushing some flour off of your hands and onto your apron as you exited the kitchen. "Morning Buck. Same as usual?" He leaned on the glass casings of cupcakes, cakes, cake pops, and other assorted baked treats. Usually, you'd scold customers for dirtying up the glass, but when it came to Bucky, you didn't care.

Bucky was a firefighter with a particular sweet tooth, practically showing up to your establishment almost every day. He was very flirtatious, and heavy on the nicknames as he watched you carefully. At first, the nicknames irritated you, because you thought it was just another man abusing the power of his occupation to catcall a woman, but you saw how kind he was, sometimes even bringing his coworkers Steve & Sam with him. You began to appreciate his arrival, even anticipating his visits whenever you heard the bell sing its similar song.

"So, Doll. I was thinking that maybe you and me could go out to dinner tomorrow night." Butterflies fluttered inside of your stomach at his words, raising an eyebrow as you tried to play your shock off. "Are you asking me out on a date, James?" His grin grew wider as you referred to him as his actual name. "Would that be a problem if I was?" You reached into the casing, pulling out his three chocolate chip cookies he always gets. You knew they for himself, Sam, and Steve. Your heart grew at the selfless act.

"I suppose it wouldn't," You said with faux non-chalance, "Just name the time and place." As you handed him the little baggie full of goodies, you couldn't stop staring at each other with lovesick smiles, even as he left, you burning holes into his muscular back. It was always nice to be able to finish off the day with a smile.

The next day at work seemed to go by too slow for your liking, constantly checking the clock on the wall as you rung customers up.

"Looks like you have somewhere you're eager to be." Your best friend Wanda teased. You rolled your eyes, a tiny grin on your face as you shrugged. "Who knows?" You said playfully. Wanda nudged you with her shoulder, giggling as you feigned annoyance.

Your giggling was cut short by your door hitting the wall, a furious looking woman storming in.

"Which one of you is _______?!" She all but screeched. Your eyes were wide as Wanda rested a hand on your shoulder, giving you a look of concern. "It's okay Wands," You whispered to her, "I got this." Putting on a kind smile, you walked from behind the counter to greet her. This wasn't the first time you had angry customers, but you were always able to calm them down, even coming to an agreement of a refund.

"That's me!" You said with fake enthusiasm. "What can I do for you?" You asked. She just rolled her eyes; her body close to yours as she eyed you up and down. "Stay away from James you fat freak." You could hear gasps come from your customers as your heart fell into your stomach. "I'm not sure I understand what you mean." You said nervously, bile feeling like it was about to rise in the back of your throat.

"What I mean is that he's mine. So, I don't know what you think you're doing flirting with him, but it's got to stop. Now. I'm his girlfriend, and if I ever see you snooping around him ever again, there's going to be some problems." As she stepped closer, you stepped back. "And it's not like he'd ever go for someone as big as you are anyways. Even though he's a firefighter doesn't mean he deals with zoo animals too." She then plastered on a condescending smile. "So, he won't be coming back here anymore. Toodles." With that, she exited out of the store, leaving you standing there utterly humiliated as you tried to wrap your head around what just happened.

Why didn't you say anything? What was she talking about? Bucky had a girlfriend? There were all of these questions swirling in your minds as you felt Wanda's gently hand on your body once more, what she was saying falling on completely deaf ears as you stared at the glass door with your company name on it blankly. All you could do was turn your head to face her with a watery smile. "It's okay, Wands. I'm fine." Despite your words, you disappeared back into the kitchen where you allowed your tears to fall.

You stopped looking at the time, tending to the people that chose to sit in the booths, the college kids that always had study groups there. You knew Bucky was probably waiting for you, but you couldn't find it within your broken heart to care. You had no idea that he was a cheater, the cute — and what you thought was harmless — firefighter turned out to be a total prick. Maybe you got too hopeful. You fell into dark thoughts, ones that you hadn't dwelled on since you were in high school.

You closed up by yourself, bidding Wanda a fruitless goodbye as she held you in her embrace, whispering words of affirmation and encouragement into your ear. Wanda was a good person, the only one that could probably help pull you back from wherever you were falling from.

You were bent over wiping a table when you heard that familiar jingle.

"Sorry, but we're closed," You said, "Come back tomorrow! We open early in the morning." But the door never closed, the bracing breezes brushing up against the naked skin of your arms that your work shirt didn't cover. "I think I already know that." Bucky sounded from behind you. Your whole body froze, your grip on the wet rag tensing as you didn't even bother to look behind you.

"Go away, James." You said coldly. "No." You scoffed and finally turned around. He looked nice, clean shaven, his hair even styled when it was usually always out of place. He dressed up for you.

"I don't go dates with cheaters." You said simply. That made his eyebrows furrow. "Cheater? Doll, I'm single." That made anger bubble deep inside of you. "Oh trust me, I know you're not, because your psycho girlfriend came in my store and humiliated me in front of everyone!" Then, a look of understanding overtook his face, along with one of frustration.

"Goddamn it," Bucky groaned, "Fuckin' Dot." He walked up to you, taking one of your hands in his. You wanted to pull away from him, but the way his callused and worked fingers gripped yours was enchanting. "Baby, that woman... she's—" He gulped. He looked almost anxious. "She's an ex of mine. I broke it off with her and she went psycho. At first, I thought she could just leave me alone, but then... but then she started to stalk me, so I had to get a restraining order against her. It had recently just expired. I figured she had started stalking me again, but I hadn't expected her to be this... to be this bold." He ended with a sigh.

"I'm sorry, _____. I really am. I'm sorry she did that to you, you didn't deserve it. You didn't deserve to be dragged into my shit." You shook your head softly, raising a hand so that it could rest on his now stubble free cheek. "Yes, I didn't deserve it, but you didn't either, Buck. I wish you would have told me about this, yeah, but I understand why you didn't. You wouldn't have scared me away because... because I wanna be with you, and I was really fucking excited when you asked me to go on a date with you." Your thumb caressed his cheek.

He looked at you through his eyelashes, large palms hesitantly landing on your waist, giving you an out to pull away if the gesture made you too uncomfortable. It didn't, instead, it heated up your body, a pleasant warmth settling in your gut at the feeling.

"I would still be willing to go on that date, if you want." You asked. You were scared that he would say no, you did stand him up after all. "Well, the restaurant is closed, but I'm pretty sure that Chinese place is still open. We could order in and watch tv at my place?" You raised an eyebrow at him, smirking. "You're not trying to get me alone so you can get in my pants, are ya, Buck?" You asked playfully. He only chuckled, leaning his head down and brushing his lips against yours.

"It all depends on how you want this night to go."

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood

[babydin]

Love in the Middle of a Firefight

The pregnancy is easy, despite the circumstances. The pregnancy was the easy part, Joel was supportive, he helped out, he ran around like a Retriever whenever you asked him to and Ellie asked a million questions every single day. But when the baby arrives Joel doesn't know if he remembers how to love something so fragile. - Joel Miller x f!reader - 18+, minors DNI! - (1/?) - Joel is dad, Joel is Daddy, paternal postnatal depression, pregnancy sex, oral. Not necessarily in this chapter, but for sure in this series!! Trauma references. Domesticated af. Angsty in places! - 1868 words - Comments/likes appreciated. Requests are open! - A/N: I didn't think too hard about the timeline, just vaguely after the events of S1, they go to Jackson to Tommy's place and live there and nothing bad happens. This will be in multiple parts but I haven't planned for how many! There will be time-jumps in each of the parts because I'm impatient™️

You haven’t heard him say the word ‘resources’ since the three of you were backpacking across the country trying to get to Jackson and your heart breaks at how quickly he has slipped back into survival mode.

“Joel I–” The words catch in your throat as he looks up at you after hearing his name. He always has an expectant look on his face whenever you say his name; he’d been so attentive since the two of you had settled town in Jackson with Ellie. You didn’t dare say it out loud, or to his face, but the man was domesticated. He was tamed and you hadn’t done a thing, he’d just set his battles aside. Both of them were, Ellie had agreed to go to school, and Joel helped around the town in the mornings then returned home for a late lunch. Just to prove your point, he was doing dishes when you found him.   “Joel, I’m late.”

He set down the bowl from breakfast he was drying with a dish towel and then wiped his hands on his jeans, “Well, where d’ya need t’ be? I’ll drive you.” Your face scrunches and you shake your head, you’d smile if you weren’t so scared. You don’t want to say it out loud, saying it out loud would make it real. Maybe if the world hadn’t fallen apart and supplies weren’t limited, risks weren’t significantly higher because of all of that you’d be a little more excited, you’d have ran to the nearest drugstore to buy a home pregnancy test and taken it immediately. “Joel.” you say his name again, firmer this time, hoping he hears you. He’s halfway between grabbing the keys to his truck and the kitchen sink, those attentive eyes trying so desperately to figure out what you’re trying to say. Your fingers grip the counter and your heels push back into the ground so your head can bow down to the ground;  if you’re going to say it, you don’t want to look at him, “I haven’t missed a period since I was 14. You could set a clock on it. I should’ve had it three fuckin’ weeks ago, Joel.” His silence is deafening. There’s no elation, there isn’t any regret though either, and if you know Joel like you think you do he’s probably going through the same thought process as you are. Thinking about where the supplies are going to come from, how the baby is going to be born, babies had been born since the outbreak it wasn’t unheard of but he wasn’t exactly carrying a four leafed clover. Except you knew Joel’s history, you knew he had lost a child, you knew he had struggled to bond with Ellie when they first met, you knew how reluctant he had been to open his heart up to being a father again when he felt himself getting closer to her. But he was a dad now, her dad; they had a strange relationship and they cursed at each other and played at roughhousing in the living room, they’d zing each other and then laugh about it afterwards, but Joel tucked her in every night and he listened to her problems and helped her with homework, and hugged her so tightly when her emotions got too big for her to voice. You take a breath and it shakes in desperation, fighting to keep your shit together as you felt his gaze burning into you, “Say something Joel, for fucks sa–” “It’s going to be fine.” There was that asshole voice you thought he had given up when you had settled down in Tommy’s town, you had to pull yourself upwards to look at him because you did not believe a single syllable that came out of his mouth. Not in that flat, robotic tone. That wasn’t a reassurance that was a reaction. That was just something he was saying to make you feel better, it wasn’t something he believed. Suddenly, his jagged expression softened and he pushed his jaw out slightly, his eyes got bigger and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He repeats himself, “It’s going to be fine.” this time he sounds so sure. He sounds like he has a plan, he sounds like he’d walk through gunfire for you. “Let me – Let me talk to Tommy; See what kinda resources they have, maybe they got one’a those ultrasound machines,” he starts rushing, grabbing his boots and trying to put them on without sitting down which does nothing for his back, “then we’ll know for sure.” You blink hard, you haven’t heard him say the word ‘resources’ since the three of you were backpacking across the country trying to get to Jackson and your heart breaks at how quickly he has slipped back into survival mode. “I’m sorry.” you whisper the words but he doesn’t hear you.  “I’ll be back.” he kisses your cheek and then he’s gone. You picture a world before the outbreak, where Joel never endured all that trauma and you tell him you think you’re pregnant and his face lights up and he picks you up and spins you around and offers to book your first scan. You’d spend hours on the couch talking about nursery ideas and baby names, and tell him not to get his hopes up in case you’re not actually pregnant but he just scoffs. Before the outbreak, you would’ve told Joel you thought you were pregnant and he would’ve been an excitable dad of two. In the outbreak, you told Joel you thought you were pregnant and his first instinct was how to survive it.  You sit on the couch with your arms wrapped around you and wait for him to come back. A million thoughts swirling around in your mind about every possible outcome of this, you tried your hardest to focus on the ones that ended happily, but without Joel there it was hard. “Come on.” You jump at the sound of Joel’s voice, your eyes finding a clock to see how long you had been sitting in your thoughts as he pulls you up off the couch. He’d come back at least. “Put your shoes on, darlin’. The hospital has an ultrasound, they’re callin’ for a nurse to meet us there.” It wasn’t much of a hospital, it was a bakery they had used for medical supplies. There was a refrigerator and storage large enough for medicines but it was a glorified med-bay at best. Nothing bad enough happened in Jackson for them to need a full hospital, if it did they’d have to drive out of town, and if they were lucky they'd make it in time to return for them to recover at home. In the 8 months you’d lived there, the worst thing that had happened was Mr Jellinsky getting chased out of the chicken coop by a pissed off rooster. He tripped and got his ass bit right between the cheeks and Joel laughed and said, “There’s a dick joke to be said, but I ain’t gon’ be the one to say it.” and you had never heard him sound more Southern. “Joel, what–” You didn’t know how that sentence ended. What if you are pregnant? What if you died in childbirth leaving him a single father of two? What if you weren’t pregnant? What are you going to do with a baby? “Put your shoes on.” He moved to grab your shoes from the door and brought them to your feet. “Joel—” He bent down and picked your feet up off the ground one by one to slip them into your sneakers, “You ain’t gotta worry ‘bout a thing right now, okay? Let’s just let the nurses look at’cha and then we’ll talk.” “Are you scared?” Joel stood up and scoffed a little, he looked at you with those heavy brown eyes once again searching for your soul,reading you like a book. There was a time when he would’ve lied and tightened his jaw and said no, but not these days. “Sweet thing, I’m terrified. Let’s go.” It wasn’t at all far for you to walk from your little cabin-like home to the place you needed to be, Joel slipped his hand into yours half way there and you found such comfort in the way his large hands enveloped yours. You had never noticed how many babies were in Jackson until now, and the parents all seemed content with their lives here. As you laid back on the gurney and answered the nurse’s questions, you occasionally glanced over at Joel. He’s been here before and he’s trying to figure out how to be there again, his teeth are chewing on the inside of his cheek, you’re desperate to know if he’s more anxious to hear a yes or a no. “Have you had any other symptoms besides your period being late?” You shrug and shake your head, you’ve never been pregnant before so you don’t know what ‘symptoms’ means in this case. “Have you been peeing more than usual? Any nausea in the morning?” You try to remember, and shake your head but you really don’t recall. “Any cramping?” You hum and put your hand on your stomach but she bats it away softly so she can pull up your shirt and prepare it for the ultrasound, “I mean, a little but I was just expecting my period so I didn’t really think anything of it…” “Any tenderness or soreness in your breasts?” You shake your head again but Joel clicks his tongue in protest and pipes up in a voice that’s so gravely and sounds like he hasn’t spoken in a week, “You wouldn’t let me touch you last week because you said your nipples were sore.” You take a moment to consider his words and he almost has you convinced that maybe you are pregnant. A cold jelly like substance is dispensed onto your stomach and you gasp and your muscles twitch, the nurse smiles and apologizes. You turn to the screen and Joel moves closer to you. It fills with static that ebbs and flows as the nurse moves the probe around your lower stomach. Even as she explains it to you, you can’t make out what exactly you are looking at but you trust she knows. Then she stops, and Joel sinks to his knees, “This is your uterus–” she gestures on the screen, He wraps both of his hands around yours and brings your knuckles to his lips and you can feel his smile and his heavy breaths as he becomes overcome with emotions. “--- and this little thing here that looks like a peanut…” She didn’t need to finish that sentence for you to know how it ended. The way Joel had reacted, the way it looked on the screen, barely there but very much obvious. Your cargo. You look at Joel as the nurse tells you that you’re pregnant and his eyes are full of tears that he doesn’t allow himself to cry, he’s hiding his mouth behind your hand but his cheeks are dimpled and you know he’s smiling. Relief washes over you and you feel like a fool for doubting him for a second, a fraction of your anxieties lift and you realize he’s with you. When he said it was going to be fine, he meant it.

[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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[moonstruckme]

hiii I'm just here resubmitting my request<3 so maybe r was in a fire (a small or large one, u decide), james was called and when he finds out it was her he gets sooo worried and she goes to the hospital or something? thank u!!

Thanks for requesting my love!

cw: fire, paramedics/ambulance, symptoms of smoke inhalation

firefighter!James x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

James starts to stand you up when the ambulance turns onto your block. 

“Jamie, don’t bother them.” You feel a cough building in your chest, but you repress it. “I’m f—fine.” It escapes on the last syllable, and you can barely look at your boyfriend as he raises his eyebrows at you, incredulous.

“Humor me,” he says simply. 

You let him pull you up this time, and he presses a kiss into your hair even though you smell like pollution. James has stripped out of his bulky jacket, but the heavy pants still hang from suspenders wrapped around his black t-shirt. The fabric swishes against your leg as you make your way over to the ambulance. 

“We need oxygen,” he says without prelude, though not unkindly, nodding at the paramedic that gets out first in greeting. 

As if to punctuate this, your throat pinches warningly, and you let out a couple of meager coughs. James’ arm contracts around your waist. 

The paramedic seems to trust his authority, nodding for her partner to get something ready in the back while she walks over to you. 

“Look here please,” she says. 

You obey, flinching slightly when she points a pen light in your eyes. James’ hand migrates up to your shoulder, rubbing lightly. 

“Any dizziness?” 

“No,” you say, coughing a bit. 

She clicks her light off. “Nausea or vomiting?” 

“No.” 

“Headache?” 

“No.” 

James cuts a look your way. “Sweetheart,” he says softly. 

“I did have a headache,” you amend, “but it went away.” 

“Chest pain?” 

“A little,” you admit. 

“Shortness of breath?” 

“I don’t…” You look to James, then feel stupid. It’s not like he knows. “I don’t think so?” 

“Coughing?” 

“Yes,” James says emphatically. 

The paramedic gives him a funny look, then asks you, “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you confirm. A little cough works its way out of your lungs as if to prove it. 

James looks a bit chastised. He rubs your back, touch both firm and comforting. 

She gives you both a smile. “Come sit back here, please.” 

You follow her into the back of the ambulance, perching awkwardly on the gurney in the middle.

“It seems like you have relatively mild symptoms of smoke inhalation,” she tells you. Her partner passes her a mask, and she holds it over your face for a few seconds before letting you do it yourself. Her fingers press to your wrist. “Your eyes are irritated, but it’s a good sign that your headache went away already. There’s probably not much more we can do other than give you oxygen. Your other symptoms should ease on their own.” 

You nod your understanding, relieved even if you’d been the one saying you didn’t need any help. With James, it’s typically best if only one of you shows your worry at a time. And he’s plenty worried enough for both of you right now. 

You glance over at him, standing outside with his arms crossed. It’s doing crazy things to his biceps, and you think that usually he’d grin if he caught you checking him out like this but now he looks like he might start tapping his foot impatiently. You feel guilty for getting him in such a tizzy. 

The paramedic finishes with your pulse and follows your gaze. “That your boyfriend?” she asks. 

Your breath fogs the mask. “Mhm.” 

“He seems fairly rattled,” she notes. “I supposed it’s probably not typical to get called to a fire at your girlfriend’s place, though.”

“Yeah,” you sigh. 

You’d already been sitting out on the lawn when James’ crew had arrived, the fire already put out and your front door left open. Smoke rolled out of it in one thick, relentless wave. You still have no idea how a fire that couldn’t have been burning more than fifteen minutes had created so much. You suppose James could tell you if you asked him later. 

The others had run inside, but James had gone straight to you. His chief wanted to confirm with you that there was no one else in the home (there wasn’t) and that you’d gotten out quickly (you didn’t have a great answer for that one). Like pulling teeth, it came out that you’d fallen asleep with dinner in the oven, and it was only by coincidence that someone had called your phone and the ringing woke you up. You’d turned off the oven and dumped cupfuls of water on your flaming dinner until it went out, but the smoke had spread throughout your home and your neighbor had already called emergency services. 

This led to you having to admit you hadn’t replaced the batteries in your smoke detector, which had led to a fervent lecture from your boyfriend that you doubt you’ve heard the end of. It was only the arrival of the ambulance that had distracted him. 

The paramedic sitting next to you jerks her chin toward James. That’s all it takes to get his attention, since he’s watching you like you’re going to float away if he doesn’t keep a close eye on things. 

“You can come up here,” she tells him. 

James clambers up quickly, giving her a terse smile at half his usual wattage as she moves to let him take her place next to you. 

“Hey, angel.” He takes the mask from you, holding it to your face himself. His other hand slides down the inside of your forearm and interlocks its fingers with yours. “Is she okay?” he asks the paramedic you’d spoken to. 

“Her symptoms are minor,” she assures him. “I wanna keep her on oxygen for ten minutes or so before checking her levels, but she’ll be fine.” 

James nods in thanks, but his sigh ghosts over the shell of your ear when he leans his brow against the side of your head. The paramedics conveniently find other things to do, and you’re grateful for it. 

“I’m sorry,” you tell him quietly. 

“I think you should stay at my place tonight,” he says, matching your tone, “if that’s alright with you.” 

“Yeah,” you laugh a little. It provokes your lungs, and a cough follows. 

James winces. Kisses your cheek softly. 

“Yeah,” you try again. “That sounds good, thank you.” 

“The next time you set foot in your place, I’m going with you and installing new smoke detectors.” 

Now you wince. “Fair enough.” 

“And I don’t think you should ever cook or nap again.” 

“That seems a bit far.” 

“I dunno, I think I’m being reasonable.” He kisses your cheek again, lingering this time. “I’d prefer to wrap you in some sort of fireproofed bubble wrap, but I think this is a compromise we can both live with, no?” 

You smile, and you can’t tell if your chest hurts because of your smokey lungs or the raw quality to James’ teasing, but it helps when he smiles back. 

“What if,” you say, “you cook, and I nap. Would that satisfy you?” 

He mulls this over for a second. “For now,” he decides. “I think I’d still like to work on fire-proofing some bubble wrap in the meantime, though.”

[honeyedmiller]

A Burning Desire masterlist

firefighter!joel x f!reader

artwork by anush semerjyan (uploaded on pinterest)

rating: explicit. 18+ only.

series warnings: joel miller au, fluff, angst, smut. each part is marked with their own warnings. reader is afab and uses she/her pronouns.

series synopsis: you were fine with being single, basking in the freedom and independence of it all—until a handsome firefighter walks into your life and completely flips your world around.

part one

part two

part three

part four (coming soon)

part five

divider by @saradika-graphics

[redwing4life]

For you

CHAPTER 3 | ASHES TO EMBERS

PAIRING: Firefighter!Neighbor!Bucky x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: Mention of night terrors, Bucky being upset, fluff, flashbacks containing the death of a child, plenty of unholy thoughts, half naked bucky, dirty talk???, sexual tension, please let me know if i’ve missed something!!!

SUMMARY: You find Bucky at his most vulnerable when he’s sent home from work at 2 in the morning. While doing everything you can to comfort him, you realise you’re falling for him.

WORD COUNT: 4926

PREVIOUS CHAPTER // NEXT CHAPTER

“James, you home?” You call into the firefighter’s apartment, peeking your head around his front door.

It’s your day off and you want ice cream, and for some reason instead of running to the store, you chose to break into your neighbour’s home to ransack his freezer.

“James?” You shout again, double checking he’s at work as you close the door behind you and make your way to the kitchen.

Alpine greets you with a meow from above the fridge, seemingly unbothered by the sudden intruder. You crouch down to pull open the bottom door, met with a cool rush of air that leaves your arm hairs standing tall.

“Come on, I know you have some…” You mumble to yourself while you rustle through the shelves.

“Bingo!” Your fingers brush ice off the top of the tub before pulling it out of the freezer. You reach beside you to close the door and push yourself to your feet, turning to leave when you finally notice your half naked neighbour.

You jump a mile, throwing the ice cream tub in the midst of your fright. “Fuck me, James!!” You all but scream, right hand now clutched to your chest.

Bucky laughs from his stomach, an raising an amused brow at the sight before him.

“I’ve been trying to for months, doll.” He smirks. “What are you doing in my apartment?”

It’s fair to say your brain is lagging a bit, too focused on the drops of water running down his very bare chest to pay notice to his confession.

Clad in just a white towel, wrapped dangerously low on his hips, your neighbour bends down to pick up the strewn tub of ice cream. You catch the way his free hand clutches the knot of the towel in an attempt to keep it from falling, though you find yourself indifferent to the idea.

Indifferent, my ass. You’re practically begging the gods for a gust of wind. Wait did he just say he’s been trying to fu-

“You stealing my ice cream, sweets?” His teasing voice breaks you out of your rather un-holy thoughts.

“James- I- I thought you were working?”

“Ah-Ah-Ah,” Bucky tuts, stepping closer to you, “you didn’t answer my question, doll. I said are stealing from me?”

Your throat runs dry and you shake your head quickly, “No- I- I was just-“

“Just what, peach? Hm?”

He’s so fucking close to you that your brain has completely checked out; your eyes fall to his broad chest, still dripping from the shower.

“Cat got ya tongue, doll?” Bucky teases you, raising a hand to brush a loose strand of hair behind your ear, skin ablaze in the path of his touch.

You drag your gaze to meet his, breath hitching at his lust-blown pupils.

“I thought you were at work.” You whisper, clutching onto that as your excuse for being caught.

A hand wraps around your waist and tugs you closer, forcing you to brace yourself against Bucky’s taut torso. With one hand on his chest and the other at the top of his abs, your heart races in your ears as the firefighter leans in closer.

“And I thought you were a good girl.” His voice is low, sultry even, against your ear, “I guess we were both wrong.”

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, drawing a groan from Bucky’s throat, the vibrations palpable beneath your finger tips.

“I am good, Bucky.” You hate how submissive you sound, but Bucky adores it. All it took was a tub of ice cream and a white towel to have you like putty in his hands.

You gasp when he bites down on your earlobe, feeling his warm tongue reach out to soothe the sting. The sensation runs straight to your pussy, your panties catching your arousal as you look up at your neighbour.

“Good girls don’t call me ‘Bucky’.” His nose trails along your cheek until his mouth is hovering over yours. “Wanna try that again, doll?”

You hold his fiery gaze as you reply, desperate to appease him. “I’m sorry, James. I can be good.”

Eyes falling to his mouth when he rolls his bottom lip between his teeth, you whimper at the sight.

“Fuck, doll.” His lips nearly brush over yours as he speaks. “Lucky for you, I like it when my girl’s got a bad side…”

You’re still watching his pink lips when he takes your hand in his. He revels in the way his hand swallows yours before leading it down to the towel’s knot on his hip.

“Go on, sweets.” Bucky ushers your hand between his skin and the towel, slowly pushing the material until you feel it fall away. With one hand, he tilts your chin up so you look him in the eye, gently leading the other closer to his already hard length.

“Show me how bad you can be.”

You wake up with a startle, body bolting upright in the swarm of your sheets. It takes a few seconds for your heart to stop racing and your ears to stop ringing; you look around you, no longer in Bucky’s kitchen and no longer just moments away from kissing him.

Not just from kissing him though, were you?

As you come to your senses, you notice frustrated grunts coming from the hallway, surely the cause of your sudden wake up. With a frown, you slip out of bed and step into your slippers.

You walk to your living room, flicking on a light as you go, ears honing in on the sounds from the other side of the door.

“For fuck’s sake!” You hear, recognising the voice as your neighbours, the same one you were just dreaming about.

“Stupid piece of shit-“ He grumbles, accompanied by clanging metal.

Quickly unlocking your door, you glance down the hall to see Bucky knelt before his own, desperately trying to push his key into the lock.

“Bucky?”

Your voice passes straight through him, as though you said nothing at all. The metal of his keys clang against the lock, doing everything it can not to go in the key hole. You close your door behind you and slip your own keys into the pocket of your checked pyjama pants.

“Bucky?” You repeat, louder this time. How foolish of you to think your words would settle upon his ears this time around; one may think he’s deaf with the way your calls roll off him like water off a duck’s back.

Tentatively, your feet carry you forward, barely heard over the grunts falling from your neighbours lips.

“James?”

He stills. The new silence hits you like a brick but you’re not sure that you prefer it. No more than a couple of feet of distance and shit ton of apprehension sits between you both.

Bucky wills himself to stay still, though his hands refuse to comply. They tremble in front of him, his grip on the keys turning his knuckles white. Your gaze burns into him yet he can’t find the strength to look at you. To admit that he needs you.

Without a sound, you close the gap and lower yourself to your knees. You don’t touch him yet, you think he needs the space.

He wants you to touch him, he hates the space. If only his vocal cords would listen to his brain and ask.

Your features are blurred in his peripheral, slowly coming into focus when you stretch a hand out in front of him. The pads of your fingers barely brush over his knuckles, they trace the veins leading down to his wrist, leaving a trail of fire behind them. Not a dangerous fire, Bucky thinks; the kind that sits crackling in a fireplace in winter while you read a book, huddled into the couch.

He’s a slave to your touch, his grasp relaxing as you run your fingers over his, urging him to open his palm. His fist peels open like a lily blooming, the silver key a stark contrast to the white tension of his hand.

“That’s it, love.” You whisper, unknowingly causing Bucky to bite back a sob.

Love. The tenderness of your tone is unlike anything he’s heard before and he relishes in it, letting it wrap around him like a blanket.

Plucking the keys from his hand, you gently reach up to push them into the key hole. Bucky’s eyes fall shut in a futile attempt to hold back his tears, tears that you’re ready to swipe away if he needs. You realise in this moment that you’d do anything to ease his pain, a revelation that both terrifies you and makes more sense than anything else in your life.

The click of the door unlocking sounds and you pull the key out.

“Let’s get you out of this hallway, James.” You use his real name, now that you know it’s the most effective, and push yourself to your feet.

It’s of little practical use for you to offer Bucky a hand, yet you do it anyway. He takes it with haste, giving in to his primal need for physical touch.

His knees crack as he stands, a combination of years climbing fire escapes and the last ten minutes he’s spent on the ground fighting a key hole. Letting you push the door open, he keeps hold of your free hand and follows you into his own apartment like a lost puppy.

You string together small praises and lead him to his couch, pressing his shoulders slightly to get him to sit down. Once he eases down on the edge of the seat, your turn to close the door but find yourself being pulled back to Bucky.

“Don’t go,” He pleads, his hand wrapped tightly around your wrist; it’s not painful, but you feel the desperation bleeding into your skin. His eyes are strikingly blue and glistening with unshed tears, begging you to stay. Luckily for him, you would never leave his side when he needs you.

“I’m not going anywhere, Buck. Just gonna close the door and i’ll be right back.”

It dawns on him that he’s acting like a toddler, incapable of being left alone for even a second. He’s almost glad you’ve left to lock the door so you don’t see how his cheeks have burned crimson with shame. There’s so many thoughts swirling around his head that a dull ache is growing at the base of his neck.

Alpine saunters into the living area with sleepy eyes; she meets your gaze as you head back to Bucky, her eyes flitting between your worried stance and the stillness of her owner. She may only be a cat, but she knows when something is wrong. You offer her a sad smile. How do I help him, Alps? What does he need from me?

Releasing a slow breath, you return to your neighbour, crouching down in front of his place on the couch.

“Can I touch you?” You ask gently.

Words fail Bucky for the umpteenth time so he’s forced to nod instead. The warmth of your hands on his thighs is welcomed with a small sigh. His resolve to hold back is weakening with every rise and fall of your chest, his focus on your breathing being the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

You circle your fingers over his navy pants keeping your hands close to his knees. The last thing he needs is to think you’re making a pass at him.

“What happened, James?” Your brows pull together. “Your shift doesn’t finish till six.”

The lump in his throat swells, images of tonight’s events flashing before him like a broken film reel.

You watch his chin tremble as his memories torment him, waiting patiently for his response. You know it takes time for him to talk, but the silence is killing you. Lifting a hand from his left thigh, you reach up and brush the loose strands of chestnut hair away from his eyes.

You finally break the silence, “Bucky, darling, what happened?”

Something inside Bucky’s chest snaps and a sob tears through his whole body. He collapses into your hold, face finding safety in your neck. The wails wrack through him while his tears soak your night shirt and you quickly cradle his head.

“Oh, love, it’s okay.” You clench your eyes shut, trying to hold back your own tears. “I’ve got you.”

Though muffled by your shirt, his cries reverberate around the room. You find yourself pushing up to your feet, separating from the firefighter briefly so you can climb onto his lap. With a leg either side of his, kneeling against the cushion, you pull him near to you once more.

Those strong arms envelop you, bringing you impossibly closer; you wrap your own around his neck, the other holding his head to your chest.

Every sob breaks your heart as broken sentences fall from his lips, barely comprehensible but you pick up the few words you understand.

Fire. Boy. Trapped.

You whisper sweet nothings into his ear while you run your fingers through his hair, praying his body tires so he doesn’t have to endure this much longer. If it doesn’t, if he needs you to hold him till sunrise, then sunset, then sunrise again, you’ll do it. You won’t even lean back to take your slippers off, not unless he’s ready.

It’s funny how time works. How things can feel so quick yet so slow at the same time, with no regard for which you’d prefer. You have no idea how long Bucky has been weeping into your neck; you’ve lost count of how many times it’s seemed like he’d calmed, only for a heart wrenching sob to escape him and the process repeats all over again.

But at some point his wails became whimpers and his tears ran dry, only your shirt and his cheeks holding the remnants of his cries.

“I-“ Bucky’s voice is hoarse, forcing him to pull away from your grasp and clear his throat. “I’m sorry, doll, i’m so fucking sorry.”

You don’t even realise you’re shaking your head at him as he continues to apologise.

“I shouldn’t have made you deal with that-“

“Stop,“

“-you didn’t get a choice I just dumped it all-“

“James, stop!” Your sharp tone shuts him up immediately, a timid expression on his face. You reach behind you to grab his hands and pull them in between you. Your flatten your palms against his and watch his eyes fall to where you meet.

“I don’t know who or what made you feel like you have to apologise the moment you show your pain, but I wish I could slap them seven ways to Sunday.”

Warmth pools in your chest at the tiny upturn of Bucky’s lips.

“As long as you’ll let me, i’ll help you, no matter how long it takes.” You glance down at your tear soaked shirt. “Even if it means soggy shirts.”

Your neighbour groans, “Oh god, at least let me apologise for that.”

A relieved laugh rises from your stomach, glad to see a semblance of normal Bucky. “It’s fine, Buck, washers exist for a reason.”

Comfortable silence falls and you let your fingers pass through his, linking together perfectly. Alpine decides to finally make an appearance and jumps up onto the arm of the couch before stepping onto Bucky’s lap, nestling in the small gap between your bodies.

“Someone’s comfy.” The firefighter mumbles, quietly enjoying the comfort of his cat.

When he raises his head to look at you, he finds your kind eyes already on him.

“What do you need?” You ask, noting the unrest on his face.

“I don’t know.”

“Do you want to talk about it or do you need distracting?”

Bucky ponders for a moment. “I don’t think I’m ready to talk about it.”

You nod, “That’s okay. Distraction it is.”

Feet tapping against the hardwood floor, you wait patiently for Bucky to leave the bathroom. Alpine is oblivious to your unrest, enjoying the head stretches you’ve been giving her for the past twenty minutes.

The firefighter gladly accepted your suggestion of a shower, knowing the hot water would relax him after tonight’s events. You’ve been setting up ready for him to return; two lamps now emit warm light from either end of the apartment while the show you and Bucky have been watching sits on pause. You even laid out his favourite blanket for him, though Alpine has commandeered it for now.

Bucky’s phone, meanwhile, has been buzzing constantly - whether it’s an incoming call or a text - the vibrations against the pine coffee table are beginning to drive you crazy.

Eventually, you decide to check who it is who’s desperate to get in touch with your neighbour. You grab the phone and flip it over gently, faced with several notifications from Steve. Your frown deepens as you skim over his messages, realising how worried the captain is over Bucky’s silence.

Hoping he won’t mind, you pick up Bucky’s phone and walk to the bathroom door before knocking against the wood. The shower turned off a few minutes ago and you were meaning to check on him anyway.

“Hey, Buck, everything okay?” You call into the side of the door. No response.

“James?” You ask again when you hear shuffling on the other side.

Still leaning in close to listen carefully, you raise your fist to knock once more, only for the door to suddenly swing open, revealing a rather disheveled and very shirtless Bucky.

Being as tall as he is, you’re eye level with his pecs, small beads of water resting against his lightly tanned skin; some race down to his abs and you follow their path as they journey through the valleys of his defined muscles.

Bucky looks down at you, adorned with an amused smirk, as he leans an arm above him against the door frame. Your frozen state and peach pink cheeks has him chuckling, glad to see you don’t find him ugly after this evening.

Flashbacks to your dream earlier in the night have you rolling your bottom lip between your teeth. Mere inches separate your bodies, the gap closing briefly each time you take a breath.

A deep blue towel is tied around his hips; it’s slipped just below his waist, the divots of his adonis’ belt screaming to be traced, to follow the happy trail right down to his-

“I’m alright, doll.” Bucky’s gruff voice greets your ears, though it takes you a moment to remember what’s happening. “Sorry, I was just finishing up. You alright? You’re looking a little flushed, sweets.”

No shit, Sherlock.

Cheeks burning with embarrassment, you raise your eyes to meet his. “I- uh- I’m g-good. I was just- um-“

Bucky grins, finding your stuttering cute, before glancing at his phone in your grasp.

“Let me guess, Steve’s been calling?”

You nod quickly. “A lot, yes. I was coming to ask what to do?”

“Would you mind calling him and explaining everything while I go get changed?”

“Yeah, of course.” Fighting to keep your eyes from trailing to his bare chest, you smile reassuringly, hoping you’ve not made a fool of yourself by ogling a man who was bawling his eyes out a half hour ago.

Awkward silence arrives and leaves you with a racing heart. It’s not everyday you see your dreams turn into reality. Well, it would only your dream becoming reality if Bucky were to grab you face and kiss you till your pussy is-

“Doll?”

Shit, you realise you’ve been staring at his pecs. “Yeah?”

“Mind letting me by so I can change?”

Somehow turning a deeper shade of red, you step aside to let Bucky and his shit-eating grin by. You drop your head down to ensure you don’t end up staring at his ass as he heads to his room.

Pull yourself together, Y/n.

You walk to the kitchen, opening Bucky’s phone on the way and dialling Steve’s number. It rings twice before an agitated voice plays from the speakers.

“Jesus, Buck, where have you been? I’ve-“

“Uh- hey, Steve. It’s Y/n.”

A beat of silence passes.

“Y/n?”

“Yeah, sorry, James asked me to call and explain that he’s had a rough night.” You wince at your own words. ‘Rough’ barely scratches the surface of what tonight has been.

“Shit…” The captain murmurs, and you hum in agreement. “Where- um- where is he now?”

You glance over your shoulder, “He’s just getting changed. It was- well, he’s really struggling, Steve, he was pretty shaken up.”

A small sigh sounds from the other side of the phone. “Yeah, we had a tough call and it triggered him so I sent him home early.”

You nod, despite knowing Steve can’t see you, and he continues.

“Are you okay? I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to help.”

You’re shaking your head now. “No no, Steve, it’s okay, i’m fine, really!” You lower your voice, “I mean, he scared me. I’ve never seen him like that before, i’m just worried for him.”

Eyes fluttering shut as you remember the fear that flooded your muscles when Bucky started crying, Steve replies with a somber tone, “Yeah, me too.”

“Hey,” he chirps, “i’ve already told him that he doesn’t have to come in tonight but he never listens to me. Could you try and convince him to stay home?”

Having already planned on asking him to consider taking a day off, you answer, “Yes, of course. But if he doesn’t listen to you then-“

“Trust me, Y/n” Steve interrupts you, “you’ve got better chance than I do, just let me know how it goes.”

“Will do. Thanks, Steve.”

“Thank you, Y/n. I’m glad he’s got someone who cares about him like we do.”

A small smile tugs at your lips. “Me too. Good night, Steve.”

“Night!”

You hang up the phone and spin on your heels at the sound of a door closing. Bucky stands just outside his bedroom door, now clad in grey sweatpants and a black t shirt, his hair still a little damp and ruffled from his attempt to dry it.

“Hey…” A small smile stretches across his lips, a far cry from the smirking tease you spoke to a few minutes ago.

“Hey, James.” You step closer. “Would you like a drink?”

“Im alright, thanks doll.”

“I got the TV set up if you wanna watch something? Take your mind off things?”

Bucky sighs constantly at the thought, nodding gently. “That sounds good.”

Settling down onto the couch, you let Alpine sit between you, leaving enough space that you’re not touching without being too far away from each other. The pair of you watch your show for a while, time bringing you closer together until you’re resting your head on Bucky’s shoulder. He runs his fingers up and down your right arm that’s lopped around his left, the tender strokes lulling you to sleep.

You battle to keep your eyes open, grateful that Bucky can’t see your face as you doze off every now and then. I mean, who can blame you when you’re being held so securely, your side pressed against his so close that you can feel his heartbeat?

You feel Bucky twitch beneath you, causing you to blink your eyes open, not realising you’d fallen asleep. Thankfully, Bucky didn’t notice either, and you watch as he stretches to the coffee table to press pause on the TV remote.

With no background noise, you hear your neighbours breath increase before he twists back to face you.

“I meant it earlier.” His voice pins you down and you sit up properly.

“Meant what, Buck?”

“That i’m sorry.” Those sharp blue eyes fall to his lap.

You shake your head for what feels like the thousandth time tonight, “James, please, you don’t need-“

“You were scared of me, doll.”

Cussing yourself mentally for not being quieter on your call with Steve, you scramble words together, desperate to fix the miscommunication.

“That’s not- That’s not what I meant, James.”

Bucky’s brow furrows deeper, head titling up but his eyes remain on his lap. “What else is it supposed to mean? I scared you, Y/n. Plain and simple.”

“I wasn’t scared of you, James.” You place a hand on his, hating the way he doesn’t turn his over to hold yours. “I was scared that I wouldn’t be able to help you, that I’d be useless at calming you down. It wasn’t you, I promise.”

“I- I was so scared that you were in so much pain, Buck, and- and I couldn’t do anything.”

A single tear falls onto his grey sweatpants just as he finally meets your gaze, eyes swarming with vulnerability. You feel his hand turn to press against your palm.

“You weren’t useless, Y/n.” He gestures to your surroundings. “I mean, all of this! You’ve done nothing but care for me since the moment you found me outside. This isn’t useless, doll. You’ve done so fucking much for me already and you don’t even know why I need you in the first place.”

A stray tear escapes you as you reach a hand up to cup his cheek. The scruff of his stubble tickles your skin, swiping a thumb over his cheek bone to catch his fallen tears.

“You don’t need to tell me a-“

“I want to.”

“Okay.” You nod and squeeze his hand. “But if you change your mind at any point, that’s okay too. I’m just here for you, James.”

Bucky doesn’t change his mind.

Once he gets over the initial nerves, his words flow like a broken faucet. Your heart fills with lead, sinking to your stomach as he tells you about that one fire that never leaves his mind. How he was only in his second year, still fresh faced and naïve, so confident in himself that he failed to find the boy trapped under a fallen beam. How he walked out of the house feeling so goddamn proud of himself for saving the little girl, only to find out the next day that her big brother was found dead in that same room.

It’s impossible to blink away your tears, as one falls, three others take its place until your cheeks are as damp as a shower wall. Your death grip on Bucky’s hand anchors him as he confesses his worst secret, the one that haunts his dreams until they fade into nightmares and then into terrors. You realise then that this is what he sees when you’re startled awake to his screams at night; while his physical body is trapped in unconsciousness, his mind it trapped in that house, staring at the little boy.

Words fail you as Bucky talks, so you focus on listening, on holding his hand and wiping away the few tears he has left. The need to reassure him burns in your chest as his words slow, eyes fluttering close when you bring his hand to your lips.

You pepper soft kisses from his fingers to his wrist. “You carry this weight everywhere, James. When was the last time you set it down?”

Bucky’s nostrils flare slightly as he breathes in deeply through his nose; he shakes his head, lips quivering before revealing his glassy eyes.

“I c-can’t… he didn’t deserve to- to die because of me, so I- I don’t deserve to put it down.”

“Oh, Bucky, darling,” You release his hand to hold his face. His pulse throbs under your palm as you slide your hand upwards, slipping your pinky and ring fingers behind his ear.

“Holding this in, letting it control you for so long, it’s blinding you, love. It’s tricked you into thinking you deserve the pain but you don’t. You don’t.”

Bucky leans into your right hand, raising his own to cover yours.

“You don’t have to believe me right now, cause I know you don’t.” A dry chuckle falls from the firefighters mouth. “But can try and trust me on this? Trust me to look after you when you need it?”

Your breathe hitches in your throat when he presses his lips to your palm, all while holding your stare. You’ll never grow old of him looking at you this way.

Bucky smiles gently, “I’ve always trusted you, doll.”

“Good.”

Sitting here, holding each other again with tear stained cheeks and tired eyes, it would be easy for someone to think you’re in love.

Maybe they wouldn’t be wrong, not about you anyway. Though, you’re happy to keep that to yourself for now.

“You should sleep, Barnes.” He huffs a laugh, pulling away from your grasp.

“Had enough of me already, sweets?”

Now you’re the one laughing, “Never,” you push yourself to your feet and offer him your hands, “come on, let’s get you to bed.”

Taking your help, Bucky lets you lead him to his bedroom. You pull back his duvet and step back, letting him climb into his bed, limbs weighed down by his fatigue.

You crouch down beside him. “How’d you feel about staying home tonight? I don’t want you pushing yourself to work when you’re not ready.”

Battling to keep his eyes open, Bucky mumbles a response into his pillow. “Okay, doll. For you.”

While it’s too dark to see, your neighbour knows that you’re blushing. You go to stand up and leave but a hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you back.

“Stay with me, Y/n.”

You smile. “Okay, love. For you.”

a/n: i really hope this was worth the wait! it’s taken me a long time to get this written properly and in the way it deserves. hope you can tell i was feeling shit when i wrote bucky’s breakdown - you write what you know, ay?

thank you so much for reading, don’t forget to reblog and like if you enjoyed. all the support i’ve received so far has been incredible and it makes me smile like mad when i read your comments.

as always, asks and dms are open - questions, requests, suggestions, whatever you’d like!! love, red ❤️

comment if you’d like to be added to the ashes to embers taglist 🧡

taglist: @armystay89 @rabbitrabbit12321 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @harrystylesandthegoobs @zannemes @noonespecial90 @pank0w @blackbirdwitch22 @wintrsoldrluvr @pingpongfingfong @belleofthebooks @larienjenova @chaosbarelycontained @mostlymarvelgirl @trustworthy-jellyfish @sorenevans @ozwriterchick @nervousnerdwitch @suz7days @bethexo07 @ace-27749 @bellabarnes1378

[littlemelaninfics]

Surprise, Surprise

a/n: I had this mostly written in my drafts before Bi!Buck actually became canon and wanted to finish it, so enjoy <3 (18+ ONLY)

Warnings: pregnant reader, fluff (whoa! Cali writes fluff? Don’t get used to it 😉)

“Is y/n feeling okay?”

“Yeah. Why do you ask?”

“Because she looks - Well she looks a little-“

“Hot.” Maddie said.

“Yeah that,” Chim agreed while pointing to Maddie.

“Hot?” Buck asked furrowing his brow.

“As in sexy. Foxy. Hot!” Maddie said very bluntly that even had her husband looking at her. Athena and Hen scurried to the three at the kitchen island to join in,

“You guys talking about Y/n?” Hen asked.

“I don’t mean to be suggestive as I am a woman of class, but whatever you’re doing Buck, keep doing it,” Athena nodded as she raised her glass to the gals.

“It’s not that she wasn’t THAT before now, but we haven’t seen her in a while and she looks and even feels different. I can feel her vibe from here,” Hen said as she playfully grasped at the air in your direction.

“Uh, heh, yeah. I guess things are a little different,” Buck said while looking back at you sweetly,

“Uh, I mean, things are good! Great even! That’s why you guys are here. We wanted to see everyone in one room for once,” Buck smiled, “so glad you’re all here.” Buck sipped on his beer before his foot got stuck any further down his throat.

The get together was in full swing when you went and grabbed the extra bag of ice from the freezer. Buck saw you out of the corner of his eye and practically flew out of his pants rushing over to you. Eddie saw the interaction from across the room and squinted his eyebrows in his chismoso ways. He migrated to the group by the counter with a full on detective look on his face,

“Y’all saw that, right?”

“You mean the way Buck Scooby-Doo’ed his way out of his seat to help a grown woman carry 10 pounds of ice? Yeah.” Hen confirmed. All heads turned to Eddie waiting for an explanation.

“Why are you looking at me?”

“You’re his best friend,” Maddie said matter of factly.

“You’re his sister,” Eddie mocked back.

“I mean it would explain the changes we all see,” Hen shrugged her shoulders.

“The glowing skin, thicker hair, filled out in the appropriate places…” Athena drifted off.

“The cravings, the mood swings, the crying…” Chimney chimed in. Now all heads swifted his way,

“I saw her last Thursday-

“Chimney!”

“Dude!”

“What!? I wasn’t paying attention to anything except the safety and well being of my Jiyung. But it does make a little more sense now…”

They stared on as Buck kissed you on your forehead and took the ice to the cooler. Bobby rounded the corner in the backyard and made his way over to you, giving you the biggest hug. The group realizes he’s pointing to Buck a lot and using grand gestures,

“Think he knows something?” Hen asked Athena who just looked on. Bobby went to head inside when he spotted the gathering at the counter and immediately stopped in his tracks to turn the other way.

“He knows!” Eddie said has he raced around the counter, beating Bobby to bathroom,

“Hey Cap! What’s up?”

“What’s up, Eddie?”

“Nothin. Just hangin out, you know,” he said with a big smile and deep eye contact trying to read his Captain.

Feeling awkward,

“Alright well, I’m gonna..” Bobby said as he motioned to the bathroom.

“Yeah, man! For sure! We’ll be right out here!” Eddie walked back to the island.

“He’s not coming out,” Chimney said, “Do you think that’s why everyone’s here? So they can tell us all?”

“I guess we’ll find out, but we can’t in good conscience harass Bobby into telling us,” Athena said as she was the first to walk off.

The party went on for another hour or so when Buck called the attention of everyone,

“Y/N and I would first like to start off by thanking you all for being here. It means a lot to us that we can see the people we love and care about all together and creating memories. That’s why today is so special. Uh, it has come to my attention that some of you may be guessing…” he said as he turned his attention to his family and they turned to Bobby who kept his eyes wide and trained forward,

“My wife and I have created our true dream life and forever team. We’ve been through so much together and have been privileged to have had all of you by our side along the way. Which is why we are-words can’t even describe this feeling, but we are beyond blessed to announce that we are expecting our first child-”

The party erupted in cheer and Bobby let out a sigh of relief before joining in on the applause. Buck never got to finish his speech before parents were coming up to you both and giving hugs.

“You knew?” Athena asked Bobby.

“For 3 weeks now. He said he needed to tell someone but knew it was too early to tell everyone.”

“Ohh, so in the end you just respecting Buck’s wishes?” She delivered with a playful side eye.

“Exactly,” he said leaning down to kiss her forehead and pull her in.