#Firefighter AU

[vxsellie]

AFLAME - E.W

pairing : firefighter!ellie x rescued!reader synopsis : your apartment goes up in flames and you're unlucky enough to have been on the top floor, your front door blocked by fire. thankfully, a certain firefighter finds you before it's too late a/n : ok this literally took so long to write i cannot ,, but im so excited to finally be posting it bc i feel like u guys will like it ! also i gave in to ur guys pleading and made a sequel here , it's not a part 2 but i hope it's enough to satisfy your thirst for more wc : 7.7k

your back is pressed against the wall of your kitchen as you clutch your cat in your arms. she mews in your hold, growing more restless by the second. you can hear the frantic shouting of firemen running up and down the halls of your apartment, rescuing your neighbors one by one. but your door is engulfed in flames, making it impossible for you to show them any sign of you being trapped in here.

oxygen is slowly depleting as your breaths become less like breaths and more like sharp gasps of air. your throat burns and your skin stings with the heat.

your cat, amber, shifts in your arms, wanting to move and breathe without struggle. you hush her, fighting tears as you begin to lose hope in ever being rescued. amber continues to meow loudly, her voice becoming more raw by the second. you shush her, not wanting her to waste her breath on trying to get your attention.

you run a gentle hand down her back, coughing as you try to comfort her. tears run down your cheeks as her mewing doesn't cease. your hand begins to shake as you caress her fur.

sirens can be heard from the street, muffled by your closed window and thin walls. your initial thought had been to open your window for air, but you knew better than to feed the flames with oxygen, so you settled in your kitchen as far away from the fire as possible and fell to your knees with amber against you.

firefighters continue to walk down the hall, calling out things you cannot hear. you recognize the croaky voice of your neighbor. silently, you're glad she managed to get out safe. she'd always been a very kind old woman to you, offering you burnt cookies and warm stories of her grandchildren.

amber continues to scratch and paw at you. you blink away tears and give her a weak smile, feeling the lack of oxygen begin to get to your head. you're delirious and in pain. you'd hurt your arm when you pulled amber out of the debris that'd become of the bathroom. you cut it open on the splintering door, the wood digging right into your forearm without mercy. you can feel the warm blood running down your arm and between your fingers where you hold amber firm against your chest. you try not to focus on the pain, though, rather directing your attention to managing your low source of air.

you hear footsteps begin to descend down the staircase and you can't help the tears that begin to pool down your face at the thought of being left up here. your shoulders tremble as you sob into amber's fur.

you can't go anywhere near the door without being burnt alive. you can't open any windows without your entire apartment exploding with you inside. you can't scream for help because you know nobody would hear you anyway.

the sudden sound of someone pounding on your door brings your mind away from its decent into despair. you instantly sit up straight, amber still restless and eager for play. you watch with blurred vision and a throbbing head as someone bangs on your door. after a moment, it flies off its hinges as a red boot comes barreling through the wood.

"in here!" you shout, staggering to your feet as the firefighter enters your apartment. your body sways on your feet due to exhaustion as the person follows the sound of your voice into the kitchen.

they enter, a gas mask covering their face. they say something to you, but your ears are ringing with the disbelief that they were able to find you. their hands reach forward, offering to hold amber.

see, you know it's unfair and you know you shouldn't, but you refuse. you shake your head, holding amber closer to your chest. she'd always been your dearest possession, and is now your only possession as the rest have been burnt to char. the firefighter nods, not thinking it wise to put up a fight with you.

"ah, shit, your arm." the firefighter mutters. their feminine voice points out that they are, apparently, a woman. "okay, okay. listen, you hold your cat and i'll carry you."

you blink, "what? i don't⎯"

"don't be difficult, now." she orders, crouching down before you can deny her the chance. she puts one arm under your knees, the other across your back. then, bridal style, she hauls you into her arms.

the room swims around you, your head throbbing and your throat raw. not to mention the indescribable pain in your arm. everything swirls and blurs under your delirious gaze. you lean back into her chest, amber meowing loudly at the stranger holding you.

the woman walks toward the front door, making sure to cover your face with her gloved hand as she passes through the flamed doorway. you cough when you're in the hallway, your chest constricting with the amount of smoke in your lungs.

"shh, you're fine. you're okay, i got you." the woman mutters as she begins to descend the concrete stairway. and, for some reason, you believe her.

you turn your focus toward her, staring at what you can make out of her face through her blackened gas mask. you can see her pale green eyes narrowed as her lashes blink repeatedly as she rushes down the steps whilst simultaneously trying not to jostle you too much. her lips are pursed in concentration, the bridge of her nose catching the light as she turns a corner at a landing.

"how'd you know i was in there?" you ask, your words slurred and your voice groggy.

"ma'am, please. just rest." she instructs, her gaze flicking down to your face for a split second before looking back forward. "we don't need to make conversation when you're clearly disturbed and in pain. just relax."

"i can't rest. my head hurts too bad." you say, shaking your head. "just⎯ answer my questions and i promise to leave you alone."

"okay fine." she sighs. "i knew you were in there because your elderly neighbor was a rather feisty woman. she threatened us with her butcher knife, saying she'd stab us and sue our company if we didn't make sure to save you and your cat."

a small smile tugs at your lips. you shut your eyes, tipping her head back. "mm, sounds like her."

"she's quite terrifying." the firefighter comments.

"she's a good person, most the time. she has a huge family and cares for them deeply, she just⎯ she knows i don't have anyone so she treats me like a part of her family." you murmur.

if you weren't so high in delirium, there's no way you'd be saying all this to a random stranger. frankly, you're a rather private person. you only open up to those you're close with and feel comfortable confiding in. take your neighbor for example. you've lived beside her for the past three years.

when you open your eyes, the woman is gazing down at you. her footsteps have become less frantic as she watches you with parted lips.

the two of you have now reached the foyer. a few other firefighters are seen with hoses and blankets for the rescued residents. the woman carries you across the linoleum flooring, the heels of her boots thudding loudly as she crosses the space to get to the large glass door.

once you're outside, you can feel amber relish in the fresh air. her incessant mewing ceases and she begins to purr. your heart clenches as the sound, pitying the fact that she's so happy about something so little such as fresh air.

"williams!" a voice calls out as the woman ⎯ who is apparently named williams, though you're fairly certain that's her last name ⎯ carries you over to a nearby ambulance. "what the hell took you so long!? we were worried sick!"

"oh calm down." williams replies, easing you down onto the edge of the ambulance where the back doors are open.

a paramedics rushes up to you with a roll of gauze. with you now tended to, williams turns away from you to focus on the man in front of her. still, despite the attention you're getting from the paramedic, she refuses to stray too far from where you sit.

after a moment of you swaying back and forth gently as someone wrapping bandages painfully tight around your arm, you hear your neighbors shrill voice call out for you from across the parking lot.

"oh, dear!" she shouts as she rushes toward you, her floral shirt tattered and covered in debris, her grey hair laced with ash. overall, she appears unharmed and you relax a bit at the sight. "oh, i haven't been able to rest until i knew you were okay, but⎯" her eyes trail down to where blood is seeping through the gauze around your forearm. "turns out you're not unharmed."

"it's just a cut, agnes." you insist, still holding amber in your lap as your arm throbs with even more pain than before now that the paramedic has wrapped the bandage far too tightly around your skin. "i'm fine⎯"

"oh, you always say that." she waves a hand at you dismissively.

she then turns to williams, recognizing her to have been the woman that she'd forced into rescuing you earlier. anges tugs on her arm to get her attention, causing williams to turn to face her. she removes her gas mask to be more respectful when speaking to a resident. at the sight of williams' uncovered face, you nearly faint. she looks as though she'd been chiseled from stone and created by a sculptor who was desperately in love with their muse.

"yes, ma'am?" she inquires, turning to agnes with a raised brow.

"i told you guys to get her out of there unharmed!" she reprimands, seething with rage as she gestures toward where you're being tended to. the paramedic is now offering you pills and water for your headache.

williams blinks, taken aback by the blame suddenly pointed toward her. "i don't⎯"

"it wasn't her fault," you interrupt, "i hurt myself trying to save amber."

"still. had the firefighters been there sooner, you wouldn't have had to save your poor cat all on your own." agnes points out, insistent on blaming the woman in front of her.

"i sincerely apologize, ma'am, but you must know that⎯"

"i don't want to hear it!" she interrupts her, holding a hand out to stop her from speaking any further. "to make it up to her, you're now responsible for finding her a place to stay."

"but⎯"

"no buts!"

williams snaps her mouth shut, likely remembering the image of when agnes held her at knifepoint and threatened her entire career. you smile to yourself at the idea of such a sweet old lady scaring the shit out of some buff firefighter.

agnes turns to face you with a soft expression. "you don't worry about a thing, dear. she will figure it all out for you. she'll make sure you have food on your plate and a roof over your head. if not, i'll make her regret it."

she places a gentle hand on your shoulder as she speaks, the last sentence laced with passive aggressiveness to williams, who stands off to the side with furrowed brows. after her assurance, agnes trots off with her infamous prideful stride. the other residents of your apartment scowl at her as she walks by, nobody being a fan of her fiery personality aside from you.

williams sighs, turning to you with a raised brow. "a good person, huh?"

"i said most the time." you point out with a playful smile.

no longer losing a significant amount of blood or with a throbbing headache, you're far less feverish, now able to speak without slurring or letting random facts about yourself slip.

williams sits down beside you, allowing her head to tip back. you stare shamelessly, enraptured by the way her chest rises and falls with heavy breaths or the bits of ash and dirt smudged across her skin. after a moment, she turns to you, removing her gloves and pulling her phone from her pocket. "suppose i should start looking for nearby hotels for you, right?"

you scoff, "you don't need to do that. she was just being protective."

"no, no." she insists. "she was right about one thing. and thats the fact that you wouldn't have been hurt if i got there sooner."

"don't blame yourself, williams, i'm fine."

"ellie." she corrects you with a brow raised in amusement.

you narrow your eyes at her. "what?"

"my name." she tells you with a light chuckle shaking her chest. "call me ellie. only my coworkers call me williams. it's for formality's sake. and, quite frankly, i hate it."

"oh, i'm sorry. i just heard someone call you that and i⎯"

"its fine." she tells you with a small smile. she shakes her head and turns back to her phone, typing for a place to stay in the search bar.

she scrolls through the options for a few minutes. while she does so, you busy yourself with checking amber for any possible wounds or marks. you hold her in the air, making sure to put most of her weight on your uninjured arm as your other still aches with residual pain.

the paramedic didn't give you any ointment or stitches, though you likely needed them. he'd simply wrapped your arm, albeit painfully tight, handed you some pills, then sauntered off to the next wounded resident.

"damn it," you hear ellie mutter under her breath. you turn your attention back to her. she feels your eyes on her and she explains. "none of the hotels accept cats and all the motels are closed."

"i told you i'll be fine." you tell her, a pang of guilt shooting through you. "anges is just⎯"

"protective, i know." she finishes for you. she turns off her phone and stuffs it back into her pocket and turns to face you with brows furrowed in thought. "and don't you dare tell me not to worry after you just told me that you have no family. i know you have nowhere else to go."

you tense at the mention of your family, instantly feeling embarrassed and a bit ashamed even. you shakes your head, "still. it's not your issue to concern yourself with."

"it's literally my job." she points out.

you sigh, knowing you won't win this argument against her. she turns to face forward, staring at the starry sky in thought. meanwhile, you turn toward the opposite direction, seeing that the aflamed building has now been put out. despite that, it pains you to see the apartment you lived in for the past few years in shambles. not all the neighbors were as kind as agnes, but you still called that place home. and now it's gone.

you hold amber tightly against you, her warm fur serving as comfort against the chill of pain that traces up your spine. she purrs against you, nestling deeper into your chest for more pets.

"i have an idea." ellie suddenly blurts out. you turn to look at her, seeing her expression now overcome by newfound determination. "stay with me."

you're instantly taken aback by the proclamation, your brows shooting up as your lips part in shock. "what?"

"my house isn't far from here. come back with me to the fire station so i can change and pick up my car, then we can head over there and you can stay with me for as long as you need until you find yourself a place." she says, her tone making it sound as though it were obvious all along.

"you mean it?" you ask, voice small.

"of course." she confirms. "plus, how could i say no to such a cute cat?"

she reaches out and pets amber gentle behind her ear. she leans into the touch, shutting her eyes and purring loudly. you smile, allowing the two of them a moment to connect. especially considering that you have no idea how long you'll be staying with ellie for.

"this means a lot to me." you say, causing ellie to lift her head and peer up at you, still gently caressing amber. your entire body is overcome with a sense of gratitude for ellie williams and the unintentional safety her presence provides you with. "i mean it."

***

twenty minutes later, you find yourself amid chaos. you rode with ellie back to the fire station and now you're standing awkwardly as everyone files out of their respective trucks. some of them are covered head to toe in soot and grime. others appear unscathed. ellie herself is somewhere between the two ⎯ in need of a shower, but not repulsing in her uncleanliness. you, on the other hand, are extremely dirty and bloody and gross.

amber sleeps in your arms are you press your back against a nearby brick wall and watch the firefighters all bound around the space. some of them are changing right there in the locker room ⎯ which doesn't have a door, by the way, though it's around a corner. others are rushing to the parking lot, desperate to get home.

"sorry," ellie apologizes as she rushes up to you. she no longer wears her hat, short brown hair askew atop her head. she runs her hands through it, giving you a sincere look. "i forgot how hectic it can be to someone who's not used to this."

you have a hand, "ah, it's fine."

secretly, you're dying inside. not only because your headache is beginning to reform at the sudden mayhem, but because ellie looks so fucking good right now. she saved your life and you know it's likely disrespectful to be so attracted to her, but you can't help it. you know what it feels like to be held in her arms and looked at with delicacy and you can't stop yourself from yearning for more.

"you sure?" she ask. "because if you're fine with it, i might just⎯"

"woah there, williams!" one of her coworkers calls out, walking up and draping his arm over her shoulders playfully. "you kidnapped one of the residents?"

she rolls her eyes, though a small smile can be seen on tugging at her lips. "haha, very funny. no, asshole, i didn't kidnap her. she needs somewhere to stay so i offered my place."

the man raises a brow at this, intrigued. he removes his arm from her shoulders and peers down at you curiously. though, once his eyes land on the sleeping cat in your hands, he breaks out into a wide grin. he holds out his hands. "oh my god! please, please, please can i hold him?"

you shoot the man a scowl, turning amber away from his sight. "not a chance. and she's a girl."

his eyebrows shoot up at your protectiveness. he turns to ellie, waiting for her to defend him. she crosses her arms, shaking her head with a chuckle. "she loves her damn cat, man, can't do anything about that."

he sighs, but says nothing to win your favor. he simply grumbles under his breath about being filthy and scurries off to the showers, already stripping his shirt off on his way there.

with him gone, ellie turns to you with a smirk. "glad to see that i'm not the only one who's denied touching your cat at first."

"of course not." you say. "nobody gets to touch her after the tough day she's had."

"that's fair." ellie agrees with a light laugh. after a moment, she says, "anyway. i was going to ask if you're okay with me showering and changing here instead of waiting until we're back home. that way, once we get back, you can have the shower all to yourself while i prepare you a place to sleep."

you nod, "yeah, of course. do whatever works best for you, ellie, i'm not picky."

"okay." she replies, seeming grateful for your flexibility. she glances over her shoulder toward where the locker rooms are. "okay, yeah. you wait on the bench over here, i'll come out and get you when i'm done."

she gestures toward a wooden bench. it's rather ragged and positioned in the very center of the chaos, but you nod regardless. ellie is offering you a place to stay for an undecided amount of time. refusing her orders would be incredibly rude at this point. so, instead, you nod and walk over to the bench whilst she walks over to the women's locker room.

you cross your legs, allowing amber to sleep in your lap as you wait. you can hear the low hum of people talking from deeper within the building ⎯ likely where the offices and more professional rooms are located ⎯ along with the gentle flow of water from the showers down the hall. people are laughing loudly within the locker rooms, the sound of boots and hats and clothes hitting the floor easy to pinpoint.

you allow your eyes to examine the space around you. the floor is concrete, stained with random spills and dirt. hoses and ladders line the brick walls, hung up as high as they can go. then, on the ceiling, large industrial lights sway gently back and forth. the showers are down the hallway, the men and women's locker rooms on either side of the hall.

suddenly, a loud rumble is heard as the huge garage door is lifted up via pulley. your head snaps toward the sound, watching as a bright red truck pulls into the space.

another wave of firemen bustle into the building once a truck shows up and they're able to pile out of it. they rush in different directions, splitting up in groups of those wishing to change and clean and those who wish to go home as soon as possible.

you avert your eyes down to look at amber as the people walk around you, trying not to draw attention to yourself. though, that's rather inevitable as you stick out like a sore thumb. everyone else is in their uniforms while you're in normal clothes, ash and dirt on your skin with a bloodied bandage wrapped around your forearm that you're trying your hardest to ignore.

and, unfortunately, amber draws quite a bit of attention as you hear a few people murmur and coo in awe of the sleeping cat. you tell yourself to ignore it, uncomfortable with the attention.

"hey," someone says. you look up to see a man standing in front of you with two of his friends on either side of him. he's covered in dirt, the stench of fire filling your nose as he nears you. "cute cat."

"thanks." you say shortly, narrowing your eyes at him defensively.

"oh c'mon, i'm not gonna bite." he says with a laugh. you only deepen your glare at this, already able to know what type of guy you're dealing with here. "what's your name, little lady? come here alone? y'know, i could take ya home if ya need a warm bed for the night. we could share."

he takes a step closer, his knees knocking with your crossed ones. he hunches a bit to reach his hand toward amber. you instantly slap it away, not thinking before using your injured arm. you wince a bit, but fight not to show the pain it causes you. he yanks his hand back as though he'd been burned.

"fuck off." you snap. "at least have the decency to ask before touching her."

"watch it." he sneers. "i've been out saving people all day. i don't need some ungrateful bitch to tell me what i can and can't do."

you roll your eyes. "clearly you do, seeing as you can't tell for yourself what's acceptable."

"how dare you!" he gapes.

his friends both step closer, the three of them crowding you. your arm aches at your side from having used it so carelessly to slap him away. you don't falter, though, knowing that's exactly what they want you to do. instead, you hold your ground and scowl up at him, holding the man's gaze without blinking.

"it's common fucking etiquette to not touch someone without asking." you tell him.

"i didn't touch you, dumbass." he says, his voice growing louder with each word. a few people are beginning to turn toward the commotion, nosily wondering what's going on. "i touched your cat. big fucking difference, there."

"the principle still stands." you point out, keeping your expression neutral and your voice perfectly level ⎯ which only serves to make him more irritated. "you're supposed to ask before reaching your grimy ass hands toward me."

"fuck you!" he shouts, now gaining the attention of everyone around you. "i already fucking told you⎯"

"what the hell is going on here?"

all four of you turn to see ellie standing with her arms crossed. her jacket is off, a thin black tank top covering her top half while her baggy uniform pants cover her lower half. her hair is wet, chin dripping water droplets to the cement floor.

at the sight of her, the two friends seem to no longer be interested in the conversation as they suddenly disappear from the scene. the man in front of you frowns, taking a step away from you though his chest continues to rise and fall with angered breaths.

"answer me, smith." she demands, voice laced with venom. "i asked what the hell is going on here and i don't like being ignored by lower ranks."

"i asked to pet her cat and she⎯"

"no he didn't." you interrupt, the entire left side of your body engulfed in pain after having hit the guy's hand. and you didn't even hit him that hard, damn. "he reached out to touch her without asking. not to mention his horrible flirting."

ellie listens to you intently before casting her gaze over to the man, smith. "so you lied to me?"

"what? n-no! i just⎯" he stammers, eyes flicking between you and ellie, frantic for his coworker to understand. "why are you taking her side over mine, williams? we've worked together for⎯ what? two years?"

"yeah, and you're renown for being a complete asshole." she scoffs.

"but she⎯"

"she is a civilian. and it's our job to protect and respect them, is it not?" she points out, raising her brows as he nods, ashamed. "that includes not cursing at them, calling them bitches, or touching them without permission."

"it wasn't her!" he exclaims. "it was just the damned cat!"

"don't touch her fucking cat, man." calls out the guy who ellie had talked to earlier. the one she seemed to actually enjoy being around. he appears to have just gotten out of the shower, naught but a towel around his waist to substitute as clothing.

"gee, i had no idea." smith grounds out through clenched teeth, his fists balled at his sides. "i can fucking see that now. thanks."

"anytime, buddy." the other man says with a wink before disappearing back into the locker room.

ellie continues to stand behind smith her her arms crossed, her thin tank top showing off every muscle in her torso. you have to force yourself not to stare, distracting yourself by petting amber's back delicately.

"apologize." ellie demands.

"what? me?" he asks, confused. "but⎯"

"i'm not fucking asking, smith." she threatens. "apologize to the pretty lady or i tell miller about this whole thing and you lose your damn job."

apparently, the mention of miller seems to snap smith into obedience as he quickly nods his head and turns to you with a scowl. his fists continue to shake at his sides, his anger balled between his fingers there.

"i'm. sorry." he grunts.

you should accept it, you know you should. but you were never good at doing what you're supposed to. so, instead, you tilt your head innocently and ask, "sorry for what exactly?"

he appears on the edge of insanity as he clenches his jaw and rushes out a quick explanation. "i'm sorry for trying to touch your cat."

"without..." you trail off, allowing him to follow.

"without asking." he finishes.

you smile victoriously, nodding to ellie as to allow her to dismiss him. she obliges, turning to him and giving him one last lecture on respect and obedience before allowing him to make the walk of shame back to the locker room full of men who just heard that entire encounter.

when he turns the corner, ellie walks up to you with a playful grin. "damn, you surely stood your ground there."

"of course i did." you agree. "not just anyone can touch my cat."

she huffs out a laugh, shaking her head at you fondly. "c'mon, lets get out of here. the shower was freezing anyway. all these assholes stole the hot water before i even had a chance."

"okay." you smile, shifting amber in your arms before standing from the bench.

the two of you walk out of the fire station and into the parking lot. the moon hangs high in the sky, casting a silver glow over the parked cars. you watch ellie as she pulls her keys from her pocket and unlocks her vehicle. the moonlight illuminates her skin with a soft hue, her wet hair clinging to the back of her neck.

you reach the car and enter the passenger's seat, holding amber in your lap as ellie puts the key into the ignition the car rumbles into motion. she backs out of the parking space and heads down the road, one hand on the wheel as the other is lazily draped over the center console between the two of you.

you watch through the window as the city passes you by in a blur, cars and shops reflect the moon's glow, everything cast under its resplendent coloring. you turn to ellie, deciding to fill the air with conversation.

"so you're a high rank firefighter?" you ask. "sure looked like those guys respected the fuck out of you."

she chuckles, "i'm ranked high, yes. but they only listen to me because the boss will always take my side over any of theirs and they knows that."

"miller?" you question, recalling the name she'd spoken.

"yeah. joel miller." she confirms. "he's an intimidating man and you'd have to be a fool not to be scared of him."

"are you? scared of him, i mean."

"i was." she says. "but after a few years of working under him and getting to know him as a person rather than just his position of authority, i feel i know him too well to be scared of him."

you hum, "that sounds nice, though. you have power over everyone else."

"yeah. sometimes i wish they'd just respect me without joel's reputation looming over my every move." she confesses with a sigh, her fingers drumming against the steering wheel lightly. "most of my coworkers would rather die than respect a woman, though, so i'm a bit out of luck there."

"well, fuck them." you say. "if they can't see your worth outside of your relationship with miller, their opinions don't mean shit."

her eyebrows shoot up at this, shocked by your sudden ferocity. once the initial shock dwindled, though, she laughs. a full-chested laugh that fills the car. your heart clenches at the sound, musical and luminary in its significance.

"yeah." she says between laughter. "yeah, fuck them."

you laugh along with her, the conversation falling into an easy rhythm. you get to know ellie better and she gets to know you, the both of you simultaneously coming to the decision that it'd be best to get the small talk out of the way before you live together for an undetermined amount of time.

amber remains curled up in your lap, her fur still covered in ash. not like you're much better yourself, though, as your hair is coated in soot and your skin has a thick layer of filth atop it.

when ellie pulls into her driveway, you're shocked to see the house. it's a small cottage-styled building, made of cobblestone and white shudders. the sidewalk is framed with bushes and flowers that have clearly been tended to by their owner. if you were completely honest, you'd expected ellie to live in some sort of industrial building, hardened and dark like her personality.

she shuts off the car and you both exit through your respective sides of the vehicle, amber jostling awake in your hold. ellie unlocks the front door before allowing you entry, the lock clicking as she turns the handle.

you walk inside, the space small but cozy. one bedroom, one bathroom, an open layout for the kitchen and living room. the flooring is wood, antique carpets laid out over the larger spaces. plaid blankets are draped over chairs and couches, available to the user.

"this is cute," you say, looking around, "didn't take you for a homey decor type."

she chuckles, shutting and locking the front door behind herself. "well i've gotta keep you on your toes somehow."

you laugh, placing amber on the floor to allow her time to roam and stretch her legs. in an instant, she's disappeared and won't be found for the next few hours. ellie leads you to the bathroom, allowing you time to clean off.

the bathroom is small as well, a tiny sink surrounded by a messy counter beside the toilet and tiny shower. if you're being completely honest, you love the house. it's so small and yet so comfy and warm. the disheveled nature to the house makes it feel more like a home, lived in and used. you love it. ellie, on the other hand, has been subtly tidying up as you guys walk through the space. while you examine the shower, she stacks up the messily placed contents of the countertop. when you turn back around to face her, she instantly stops, quick to cover up what she'd been doing. you find it oddly endearing.

"well," she murmurs, "i'll leave you to it."

with that and nothing more, she exits the bathroom. she'd already showed you how to use the shower and where to find towels so you're well prepared to wash off. but, as you strip your clothes off, a fiery pain shoots down your arm and up your side. you wince, looking down at the bandaged wound. it's bleeding through the material, your fingers beginning to feel numb from how tight it's wrapped.

you ignore it and step into the shower, trying to wash off without any thought for the searing pain in your limb. you wash your hair and scrub your body with your uninjured arm, the scent of ellie filling the air. her shampoo and body wash now coats you, a certain intimacy to the domestic act of sharing bathroom supplies. for some reason, the flutter in your heart is harder to ignore than the physical agony in your forearm.

you finish showering and wrap yourself in the towel ellie had set out for you. water drips onto the tile flooring, creating a puddle around you. you hug the towel closer to your body, not wanting to make a mess in ellie's home. but your arm suddenly aches at the way you tighten your grip.

with a groan, you decide to unwrap the wound and check on how it's doing. seeing as ellie is a firefighter, you're sure she's got some bandages under the sink. you undo it, instantly grimacing at the sight of the gore. you wince as cold air touches the open wound.

"fuck," you mutter, taking in the lack of care the paramedic put into helping you. there's no way you should have walked off without stitches or some kind of cleaning.

you crouch down to the cabinet under the sink and begin rummaging through its contents. you feel horrible for going through ellie's belongings in such a way, but you assure yourself it's for a good reason. you eventually find a first-aid kit and you crack it open.

unfortunately, you have no experience with medical care. half the things in the kit are foreign to you, random rolls of gauze and unlabeled ointments. you frown, the pain in your arm only growing as more time passes. eventually, you decide to just bite the bullet and ask ellie for assistance. you stand from the floor and close her cabinet before calling out to her.

"ellie! can you come in here for a sec?" you shout, sitting down on the closed toilet seat with the first aid kit in your lap. within seconds, she's opening the door, now changed into a pair of shorts and a random band tee.

"hey, what's—" her words instantly cut off when her gaze lands on your bloody arm, the wound no longer wrapped and now reopened. "holy shit, what are you doing?"

she rushes over to you, her voice laced with concern and desperation to help you. your eyes sting at the sound, never having heard someone so worried about you. you blink it away, looking down as you struggle to explain yourself. "the paramedic didn't wrap it well and— it, uh, hurt really fucking bad, and—"

"shh, shh," she walks over to you with soothing tones and gentle hands, "you're okay, let me see."

you hold your arm out to her, allowing her to examine it. she holds your wrist delicately in her hand, turning your arm over to look at the wound. she sucks in a breath at the sight. you frown, "is it that bad?"

"no, just," she sighs, "don't worry about it, okay? i'll fix it as best i can."

she crouches in front of you, taking a few things from the first aid kit. you watch as she picks out a specific ointment, her knowing exactly what to grab despite them not having labels. she then grabs a roll of gauze and a bottle of something, but the label is faced away from you. she sets the ointment and gauze aside, uncapping the bottle.

"this is gonna hurt." she warns you as she grabs a rag from the disarrayed countertop and pours a bit of the liquid onto the fabric. when she places the bottle aside you manage to read the name of it. hydrogen peroxide. she notices your wary gaze and gives you a reassuring smile. "it's a disinfectant, it'll clean the wound to prevent any infections."

you nod, sighing through your nose as you hold your forearm out to her. she watches you with furrowed brows as she places the rag over the open wound. you instantly stiffen, wincing through the pain. your jaw clenches as the liquid seeps into open flesh. you squeeze your eyes shut, "fuck that hurts." you pant.

"i know, i know," she whispers, gentility laced between the threads of her tone. "it's okay, you'll feel better soon, just— just breathe,"

you try to do was she instructs, but your breath comes out choppy and uneven. you open your eyes to see her staring up at you with pursed lips and a knitted brow. the sheer worry in her gaze adds weight to the air that suffocates you. it presses down on your chest and further constricts your lungs, which only serves to deepen her worry.

you force yourself to look away, focusing instead on the wall behind ellie's head. you stare at it intently, though you remain unable to shake the queasy feeling that comes with knowing ellie's eyes are on your face, tracing every feature that adorns it.

finally, she removes the rag from your arm and you're flooded with the relief of no longer being burned from the inside out. she sets the cloth aside and grabs the ointment, squeezing a small dot of it onto her forefingers.

"will this hurt too?" you ask tentatively.

she shakes her head, "no, this will soothe the pain."

"okay." you nod. "i'm far more excited for this part then."

"i don't blame you," she says with a light laugh.

she then leans forward holding you arm with an indescribably delicacy. you find yourself yearning to lean into her touch, wanting to collapse in her arms. but, somehow, you find the strength to hold back and remain sitting upright on the toilet seat. she runs her fingers down the soft part of your forearm, coating you torn skin in an off-white salve. the cool temperature instantly soothes the pain and you let out a soft sigh at the feel of it.

"oh yeah, this is so much better," you murmur, a small smile tugging at your mouth.

she looks up at you through her lashes, head remaining downcast as she carefully adds more ointment. "how'd this happen anyway? you just took the wrap off?"

"the paramedic wrapped it too tight." you explain. "my fingers were going numb and i could feel my heartbeat in my forearm. he didn't add any of this fancy shit you're adding either."

she chuckles, "ointment and disinfectant, you mean? it's hardly fancy. i'd have thought a paramedic would be smart enough to know that." her teeth grit slightly as she clenches her jaw around the mention of the incompetent medic who handled you earlier. she shakes her head, "i should've stayed with you and made sure he'd done his job right."

"that's not you obligation, ellie." you remind her. "and look. you're helping me now far better than any medic would have. i almost prefer it this way."

"oh really?" she asks, unconvinced. "you prefer to have some strange woman attempt to fix you up in her messy bathroom than a licensed and highly qualified paramedic in an ambulance?"

you shrug, "well he apparently wasn't that highly qualified."

"true," she agrees with a laugh.

she finishes coating on the ointment and twists the cap back onto it before setting it on the countertop beside the discarded rag and peroxide. she grabs the roll of gauze and begins to unravel it.

you watch her with lidded eyes, the events of today beginning to catch up to you. it's hard to believe you'd woken up this morning thinking it'd be a normal day. you'd just gotten back from work when you smelt smoke from one of your neighbor's apartments. the though didn't click in your head until you saw flames beginning to crawl into your home. one thing lead to another, and now you're here. in the house of someone who you hadn't known five hours ago.

"still," you murmur as she starts to wrap the gauze, "i prefer you helping me because you actually care about my wellbeing and not just making as much money as possible. you're kind, ellie. i'd be a fool to prefer a medic over you."

she lifts her head to meet your eyes, her movements coming to a sudden halt. her pale green eyes bore into your own, something sensual and momentous passing between the space that separates you. the bathroom is enveloped into a long wave of silence, nothing done nor spoken.

the weight of your situation presses down on you both. ellie, in her baggy shorts and stained band tee, having invited a wounded stranger into her home ; you, in naught but a towel, feeling more at home in ellie's vicinity than you ever did anywhere else.

a tether is tied between you as you feel the weight of the world pull you toward ellie. you lean in, just barely, ready for something you can hardly even process at the time being. she does the same, completely disregarding the gauze and pinning every ounce of her attention to you and the closing gap between you.

your noses brush and a spark ignites deep within you, something in your soul screaming that this is correct. a celestial puzzle clicks into place when your lips meet hers, the stars in the sky and the soil under mother nature screaming with victory as the two of you connect.

she tastes of fire and desperation, you of toothpaste and exhaustion. your wounded arm means nothing to you when you shift forward to wrap them both around ellie's neck and tug her closer. she does, rising to her knees as she places her hands on each of your hips, only a thin white towel separating her hands from your bare skin. she leans into you, allowing her hands to feel and memorize the curves of your poorly covered body.

"wait," she mutters against your mouth, "wait wait wait."

you pull back, staring at her with curiosity. her pupils are blown, cheeks flushed, lips wet. everything in you begs to lean back in, but you force that feeling down and oblige by her wishes to part. "what is it?" you ask.

"just—" she cuts herself off with a sigh, staring into your eyes with naught but adoration behind her irises. "i really like you and, uh," she looks down, blinking harshly as she tries to voice her thoughts without fucking it all up. your heart melts at the sight, remaining patient as she sorts through her jumbled mind. "i want to take my time with you. i don't want this to just be some fling. i respect you more than that."

you continue to stare at her, your eyes doing all the talking when your mouth is out of words to say. after a long moment, you finally say, "that's fine, ellie. we can do whatever you're comfortable with."

her shoulders relax at the sound of her name on your tongue, spoken with such careful delicacy that it sounds like music, like it should be praised and studied for hundreds of years to come. not only that, but she softens at your words as well, eternally grateful for your understanding.

"we can still kiss though," she's quick to add.

you laugh, shaking your head fondly at her rush to make sure that's out of the way. you lean in, still smiling as your lips touch. everything falls into place around you, nothing aside from ellie mattering to you.

⊹ ࣪ ˖𐙚 taglist : @luvsturniolo @zombieegirl @elliestunna

[zepskies]

Something Real

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean W. x F. Reader

Summary: Now that you and Dean are officially engaged, you take some much needed time off together for a family vacation. But even with the wedding set for next year, the two of you are still at odds when it comes to one key part of your future together…

AN: And we’re back in the world of Smoke Eater! I’ve been trying to figure out a way to come back to these two for a while now, and this idea finally struck me. I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 6.3K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Major fluff, angst, PTSD/mentions of sexual harassment (references to Smoke Eater Part 13), family feels, hurt/comfort, and smut.

Catch up on the SE-verse: ⤵️

🔥 Smoke Eater Masterlist

“Dean, are you okay?” you asked.

The man was white knuckling both armrests in his seat, taking pains to breathe in and out steadily. He nodded the slightest bit, humming to himself all the while. You bit your lip to hide your smile. 

The plane had just taken off about ten minutes ago.

“Are you singing yourself a lullaby?” you asked.

“Metallica. Calms me down,” he replied. 

This, from the man who storms burning buildings.

You couldn’t quite stifle your laugh, though you rubbed his arm. Somehow you managed to slip your hand into his, peeling it off the armrest. 

“We’re almost up to altitude. You’re going to be just fine,” you told him.

It didn’t matter. The plane hit a bump of turbulence, which had him squeezing the shit out of your hand. You tried to brave through it for his sake, but eventually, you had to tap out. 

“Babe, you’re gonna break my hand,” you hissed. With your free appendage, you squeezed his wrist to get his attention. Dean finally realized what he was doing to you, and he let you go. 

“Sorry,” he said, his face contrite.

Your lips twitched. You leaned down to grab your purse and dig inside for your sunglasses. You handed them to him.

Dean glanced down at the brown Dolce & Gabbana shades with skepticism. 

“I don’t need your girly sunglasses, thanks,” he said.

“Trust me,” you said. “It’ll help block out some light, so you can close your eyes and try to take a nap.”

“The only way I’m sleeping on this tin can is if you knock me the hell out,” Dean said, matter-of-fact. “Ask Sam if he’s got any Ambien.”

You glanced across the aisle and shared a wry look with Sam and Eileen. Sam shook his head, despite the knowing smile on his face. You turned back to Dean.

“No, not Ambien. Andréa sleepwalks when she takes that shit,” you said. You guided his head toward you so that he rested on your shoulder. You stroked his cheek. “Just relax.”

Dean let out a long, unsteady breath, but he tried to follow your lead. He took your hand again, not in a crushing way this time. He turned it over and admired the shining ring on your finger. The diamond on it was modest, but charming and unique in its setting. 

“Hmm, who got you that rock?” he asked. His tone was teasing, making you smile. 

“The smokin’ hot guy I’m living with,” you replied. “He finally decided to make a move.” 

Dean hummed again, raising his brows.

“Good-looking, smart, and decisive. This guy sounds awesome,” he said.

You pressed a kiss to the side of his head.

“Mhmm, a sexy firefighter. And he’s a Captain now, so I guess that’ll make me his trophy wife,” you teased back. Dean’s shoulders shook with the effort of keeping his laughter quiet. Your smile deepened.

“But he saves lives too…including mine,” you added. “So I guess I can’t complain.”

Dean raised off your shoulder then, just to look at you with a softer smile of his own. 

“Well, a pretty girl like you? He’d probably say he got really, really lucky.”

His lips closed in on yours, and you allowed him to draw you into a languid kiss while he laced his fingers with yours. His thumb brushed the engagement ring he gave you, just two weeks ago. His mother’s ring.

It’s the best gift you’ve ever been given. 

Oh, hell yes, you thought, when you opened the door to the hotel room. It was beautiful. Stunning really, with a king-sized bed and a view of an enormous pool. 

Dean was busy hefting his suitcase and one of your carry-on bags. He whistled in amazement when he saw the room. 

“Damn, Sam sure knows how to find a quality Groupon.”

But he struggled to get in the door with all the luggage he was carrying. You held the door open for him. 

“Careful with that one,” you said, pointing to your bag that kept knocking between his hip and the door as he shoved through. 

“Why’s this thing so heavy? Did you bring Kansas with you? Goddamn,” he grumbled. He was all too happy to dump your bag on the bed. 

You rolled your eyes with a smile. You parked your own suitcase on the side by the window. You already knew Dean was going to claim the side closest to the door. 

“That bag is just makeup, skincare, and hair products,” you informed him, hefting your bigger suitcase onto the bed. “This is for clothes and shoes.”

Dean shook his head in bemusement. “You’re friggin’ crazy, woman.”

“I need options!” you said defensively. “I didn’t know for sure what I was going to want to wear on this trip. I haven’t been on vacation since I was a kid.”

“Oh yeah? Where’d you go?” he asked while unzipping his own suitcase.

“Disneyland with my grandparents, which was awesome. But I was like, eight at the time,” you said. 

They were fond memories, even though no one was left to remember them but you. Still, you tried not to let that bittersweetness dim your good mood.

It was still hard to talk about your grandparents at times, especially because the loss of your grandfather was still so fresh. You didn’t feel like you had enough time to properly mourn him, thanks to everything else that was going on then. (Namely Nick and Daniel Savage, and everything in between.) 

Getting over that time was getting easier though, as the months wore on. Sometimes it was hard to believe you’d been with Dean for almost a year. And yet, it felt like so much longer. Like you’d lived half a life with him already. 

You went over to look out the window and held your hands on your hips. It was nighttime, but the streets of Miami, Florida were well-lit beyond the pool, and there was something beautiful about a bustling city at night. 

“Now this is an adult vacation,” you said.

At that, Dean smiled and walked around the bed to you. He slipped his arms around your waist and held you from behind. You held him right back.

“Damn right it is,” he said. “What do you wanna do first? Dinner, and then check out some nightlife, or skip right to dessert?”

You smiled at the way his voice lowered with thinly veiled suggestiveness. 

“Well, I know how much you love dessert,” you said slyly.

Dean’s smile deepened into a smirk.

“Yeah, that may be,” he said. “But don’t pretend you don’t love some hot lemon drizzle.”

You spluttered a laugh, beginning to blush at his hefty double meaning. He cradled your cheek and bowed his head, so he could catch your lips in a deep kiss. You made a sound of surprise, but you soon melted against him.

Already this was worth the several-hour plane ride of Dean bouncing his leg and steeling your iPad so he could distract himself. After the year you both had, all you wanted to do was spend the next few days with no responsibilities, no drama or worries—just your fiancé and your soon-to-be brother and sister-in-law…

Your newfound family. 

The night was spent at a nice Cuban restaurant in Miami Beach. Afterwards, you, Dean, Sam, and Eileen explored the boardwalk, and later the downtown Bayside area where a number of shops and kiosks were bustling with life. This was technically Sam and Eileen’s bachelor and bachelorette trip, so you all weren’t wasting any time to explore and see the city.

By the end of the night, you only had enough energy to shower and hit the bed face-first. Dean was actually on board with that, as he was the first one to start snoring on his side of the bed.

The next day though, you felt rested and ready to chill by the pool. Miami Beach itself was a bit too crowded for your tastes, and the others agreed that hanging out at the hotel for a while would be more relaxing after all the travel the day before. 

However, when you looked at yourself in one of the two-piece swimsuits you bought specifically for this trip, you couldn’t help but feel…self-conscious. The bikini and bottoms weren’t scandalous, really. You’d seen a lot of thongs, beads, and G-strings already on this trip.

It was just…you were a bit wary of showing this much skin in public. 

You didn’t want to think about the reasons behind your unease, however, so you tried to push it out of your mind for now. You put on a long sundress over your swimsuit and finished up your makeup.

A few minutes later, a knock sounded at the bathroom door.

“You done in there, your majesty? I’m getting hungry,” Dean said through the door. 

“One more minute. Doing my lipstick,” you replied. “You know we can order lunch by the pool, right?”

“Yeah, if we ever get there,” he said. You were amused when he opened the door. He was already dressed in a loose shirt and board shorts. His eyes swept over your white sundress and red lipstick, and he smiled. 

“Lookin’ good, baby,” he said. Though he raised his brows and met your gaze in the mirror. “So can we go?”

You had to laugh.

“I guess we better, before your stomach eats itself,” you quipped.

You lightly smacked the back of your hand against said stomach before you slid past him out the door.

You and Dean ventured downstairs and out back to the pool, where Sam and Eileen had already saved a few deck chairs. While Sam and Dean went to order some food and cocktails, you started pulling out the sunscreen and towels from your beach bag. 

“Eileen, you need some sunscreen?” you asked. Your friend was already taking off her shirt and little shorts, revealing a cute violet bikini and bottoms underneath. Her brown hair was loose around her shoulders. She shook her head at your question with a smile. 

“No, I’m good. Wanna go in?” she asked, and signed, before she pointed over to the pool. 

There were already a couple of families in there with their kids splashing around by the shallow end. That didn’t bother you. It was more the men of various ages milling about, either in the pool, flirting with girls, or by the tiki bar, drinking and likely waiting for opportunities.

You tugged the V-shaped collar of your sundress closer together.

“Not just yet. I think I’ll have something to eat first, try to tan a bit,” you said. 

Eileen gave an “OK” sign and headed for the pool. 

You shucked your sandals and moved your chair under a large umbrella, but you still had to fan yourself. It was hot as hell, and your dress had long, billowy sleeves.  

Sam and Dean eventually returned with some drinks. 

“Food’s gonna take a bit, so we probably have time for a dip,” Dean said, handing you a piña colada. He noticed you wiping sweat from your brow. 

“Come on, you can cool off in the water,” he said. 

You waved him off. “It’s okay. I’m good here for a while. Think I’ll work on my tan.”

Dean rose a brow and gestured at you with a hand. 

“You’re gonna do that in the shade, dressed to the ankles?” he asked.

He made a good point, to which you didn’t have a good answer. You sipped at your sweet drink and hummed at the rummy, coconutty taste.

Dean could see there was something off with you, though.

“You okay?” he asked. 

You nodded. “Yeah, I’m good. I guess I just don’t feel like swimming, that’s all.”

Dean quirked a brow. You bought three different swimsuits for this trip, but you didn’t want to swim? He pulled his deck chair closer and sat on the edge of it beside you. 

One thing he’d come to know about you. When something was bothering you, you didn’t always want to tell him right away. Often when it was something you felt embarrassed about. 

He nudged your thigh playfully. “Tell me you’re not gonna make me third wheel the married couple.” 

You smiled. “They’re not married yet.”

Three months wasn’t a long time though. You were going to be the Maid of Honor, with Dean, of course, as the Best Man. 

“Semantics,” Dean shrugged. He slipped a hand over your knee and squeezed. “Come on. Talk to me.”

After a moment in which you held his gaze, you sighed. You beckoned him closer. Dean leaned over so you could brace a hand on his shoulder and speak close to his ear. 

“It’s kind of embarrassing. I just, um…after everything that happened last year, especially before Christmas, I just don’t feel comfortable showing so much skin,” you said. “I don’t want to…attract attention.”

Surprise hit Dean first. He pulled away and frowned at you. But then, his face soon dimmed with grim understanding. 

Christmas. In other words, a Christmas party at your old job that had taken a turn for the worst.

Dean knew you had to be talking about Nick Savage. 

That bastard was dead and gone, and still, the way he’d sexually harassed you for months was still affecting you, months later. Dean let out a heavy breath through his nose. He reached up to cup your cheek. Your eyes lowered.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I knew what I was signing up for when we started planning a beach vacation. I guess it just didn’t really hit me until now.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said. “But you know I’m gonna be with you. Nothing’s going to happen.”

You nodded; you knew he would protect you in any circumstance, but it didn’t stop men from looking when they had the chance. You just didn’t feel totally comfortable with that kind of attention. 

Sensing he hadn’t convinced you, Dean tried to think of a solution.

Then, he had it. He held a finger up in the air. “Ah, here.”

He pulled off his shirt by the back of his neck. You watched him in curiosity.

“This’ll cover you up. You can go ahead and jump in the pool with this,” he said, handing you the shirt. 

Your brows knit together. “But you won’t be able to wear this later. It’ll be all wet.”

“That’s okay,” Dean said. “It’s hot as hell out here. And we’ll just be going back up to the hotel room anyway.” 

You bit your lip. He made a good point. You were probably going to look weird jumping in the pool with a whole long-ass shirt on, but at least you’d be covered. His shirts tended to reach down to your thighs, where a pair of shorts might cut off. 

You smiled and leaned in for a kiss. You stroked his scruffy cheek.

“Thanks,” you whispered. 

He nodded with a smile. “Just call me the Problem Solver. No, the Solution.”

You smirked and twined your arms around his neck. 

“I prefer Captain,” you said.

Dean’s smile deepened. “You really like that, huh?”

“I really do,” you replied cheekily.

After one more sweet kiss, you asked him to stand in front of you while you took off your long sundress and changed into his shirt over your swimsuit. Afterward, he pulled you in by your waist and spoke close to your ear. 

“I like seeing you in my shirt anyway,” he said. You smiled and playfully shoved his arm. 

You accepted his lingering hand on your lower back and followed him to the pool. You felt a bit awkward wearing a shirt that billowed in the water when you stepped in, but you decided to ignore the feeling and just try to enjoy being on vacation with your family. 

Sam and Eileen welcomed you and Dean over. Eileen did question your state of dress with her eyes, but when you leaned over and explained in her ear, her eyes widened, and she understood. She gave you a look of sympathy and rubbed your arm. 

You sighed, but again, you tried to let it go. 

You two chatted for a while after claiming a corner of the pool, also watching Sam and Dean swim competitive laps back and forth. 

You were engrossed in your conversation with Eileen about her new group of students, when Dean came up from under the water to splash you both. You shrieked with a laugh as you fended off the onslaught, but he hauled you into his arms. 

Sam wisely pulled a laughing Eileen out of the orbit. Together they split off for some canoodling, and once he was done playfully trying to dunk you, you were happy to wrap your arms around Dean’s shoulders and float with him in the water.

Dean made way for a couple of kids as they splashed by. A younger girl and an older boy chased each other while swimming with little floaties on their arms. Their parents were keeping a watchful eye on them nearby. Dean smiled and laid a kiss just under your ear.

“That could be us pretty soon,” he said.

“Yeah? How soon are you thinking?” you said in bemusement.

“Hmm. How about next year?” he said, more serious than you expected him to be. You raised your brows at him. 

“Dean, we’re not even getting married until next year,” you pointed out. He shrugged and held you a bit tighter. You felt his fingers drifting up and down your bare thigh.

“So we’ll get a head start on the family thing,” he said, grinning. 

You couldn’t help but dim at that. You didn’t want to disappoint him, but you also felt you had to inject some reality here. You turned in his arms so that you could face him.

“Babe, I just started my catering business. If I get pregnant, at some point I’ll have to take time off, put everything on pause,” you reasoned. “And…I’m not making the same money I was before.”

At that, Dean began to frown. “I make decent money.”

You nodded, smoothing a hand down his arm.

“Yes, you do,” you agreed. 

Aside from his usual hours at the firehouse, Dean had earned his mechanic’s certification a few months ago. So he’d started a side job at Bobby’s salvage yard. He was slowly but surely turning it into a more profitable mechanic’s shop, with Bobby’s blessing. 

“But, I think having a baby is going to be a little more expensive than you realize,” you said. “I just want to be more stable with my business before we start a family.”

Dean was quiet for a beat.

“How long then?” he asked.

“I was thinking more like…a few years or so,” you said. Dean’s face fell further, though he tried not to show the true depths of his disappointment. 

“Okay, well uh…” He wiped a hand over his mouth and chin. It was an anxious tick of his, you knew. “I guess we’ll talk about it later.”

The conversation settled with putting an implied “pin in it,” but an invisible thread of strain formed between you and Dean for the rest of the afternoon.

Hours later, you and Eileen broke off together to go shopping. You both were trying on clothes at a nearby mall, since she was toying with the idea of wearing something new for dinner tonight. She stepped out of the fitting room to show you a white form-fitting dress that slipped over her curves nicely.

“Oooh, that’s beautiful,” you said, with a little clap of your hands. “And oh! Thinking ahead, you could wear that for the wedding reception too, if you don’t want to deal with the whole wedding dress after the ceremony.”

You knew that her dress had a lot of tulle under the skirt, which might make it difficult to dance in. Eileen gave that idea some consideration, though something occurred to her with a certain smile. 

“Well, this dress might not fit so well by then,” she said.

Your brows knitted together. “What? What do you mean?”

Eileen paused for a moment, but she seemed to come to a decision in her mind. She smiled and beckoned you over. You went to her, and she led you to a nearby chaise in the dressing room.

That was where she whispered the news that she was six weeks pregnant.

Your resulting squeal of excitement startled all the other women in the dressing room, including the store’s attendant. You covered your mouth with an embarrassed wave, but you turned back to Eileen and took her hands in yours.

“We were gonna tell you and Dean tonight at dinner,” Eileen said with a laugh. “We found out right before the trip.”

Huh. Now that you thought about it, you didn’t remember her drinking even one cocktail on this trip so far.

“Oh my God, I’m just…” you trailed, as emotion surged in your heart and made your eyes all misty. “I’m so happy for you.”

Eileen laughed and pulled you into a hug.

She explained to you that when she first told Sam on a Tuesday morning before work, he’d fallen into a haze of shock, to a point where it had kind of worried her. But then she showed you a picture on her phone of the first thing Sam bought when he got home that day: the tiniest pair of blue booties.

You laughed again, and cried again. So tiny…

“Of course he assumes it’s a boy, but we’ll see,” Eileen said, with a roll of her eyes. Her soft smile was telling though.

“How do you feel?” you asked, wiping under your eyes.

She paused at the question. She tilted her head, and she raised her gaze to meet yours. 

“I’m happy,” she said. “Really happy.”

It was your turn to give her a big hug. And your tears fell anew as you came to another realization.

As usual, Dean was ready for dinner before you. He sat on the edge of the bed while putting on his watch. It was his father’s watch, which John gifted to him for his birthday. Though it had actually belonged to John’s father, Henry. 

Dean blew out a breath. Despite his attempts to try and just have a good time tonight (Sam’s advice), he couldn’t forget his conversation with you earlier today in the pool. He didn’t want to move too fast for you, but at the same time, he couldn’t deny that he was still fighting his disappointment, and maybe some melancholy.

Just lock it up, asshole, he told himself.

When you were done putting on the finishing touches on your makeup in the bathroom, you came out and stepped into his line of vision.

“What do you think?” you asked. 

Dean’s head lifted, and his eyes widened. You were a sexy sight in black. The dress stopped at mid-thigh, paired with some of the tallest heels he’s seen you wear since his very first date with you. 

“Damn,” he said lowly.

You smiled and stepped forward, not stopping until you were standing between his long legs. You took his face in your hands and gave a slow, lingering kiss to his lips. Dean breathed into it, and even needed a bit of a moment to recover when you pulled away.

“Hey, about what we talked about today—” you started. He cleared his throat, raising a hand. 

“It’s okay. You’re probably right about all that. The timing’s not right,” he said.

You brushed your thumbs against his cheeks. “But that’s just it…maybe we don’t have to wait so long to start a family.”

Dean perked up, giving you a questioning look. You set your hands on his shoulders. He grasped your hips, almost on reflex.

“Maybe when we get home, we crunch some numbers and figure out how we can do this,” you said.

He shook his head with a frown. “I don’t want you to lose steam on your business. You’ve waited a long time to make that happen.”

You sighed. He was sweet for that, but you’d thought about that too.

“Like I said, we can figure out how to make it work. No matter what job I have, having kids was always our plan.” A smile raised the corners of your lips. “And you know, we have so many people in our lives that’ll want to help us, even if it means we have to work a bit harder.” 

Dean’s eyes started to brighten, but he didn’t want to hope too hard. 

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to tell me what I want to hear,” he said. 

“I’m serious, Dean. I wouldn’t play about this,” you said, squeezing his shoulders. “This is worth it, and I want this with you.”

He started to soften then, and even smile. He got to his feet and wrapped you up in his arms. He held you close, pressing another kiss to the side of your head. 

“What changed your mind?” he asked. You bit your lip on a smile.

“Well, if I tell you, you have to promise to act surprised when you hear it later.”

Dean’s brows shot up. “Okay. Color me intrigued.”

You leaned up to his ear and said, “Eileen’s already pregnant.”

And your man full-on malfunctioned. He held you tighter, more to brace himself. 

“Holy shit! For real?” he asked. You laughed and nodded.

“Looks like they got a head start on the wedding,” you said. 

“I’ll fucking say,” Dean replied, but his grin was so wide, it made you smile harder.

“They didn’t plan for it, but they’re going to make it work,” you said. “It made me realize…we can do the same thing. Just with a bit more planning.”

Dean laughed at that. He knew your anal brain all too well, but in this, he could understand. His hands moved down your lower back.

“Well, you know how we can get ahead of the game?” he said. You knew what he was suggesting with only his eyes, and his meaningful touch.

You would’ve loved to take him up on that, but you glanced pointedly at the digital clock on the nightstand.

“Sam and Eileen are probably waiting for us downstairs,” you said.

Dean sighed, rather dramatically in your opinion. He still bent down to kiss your neck, nipping a bit hard just under your ear. It made you jolt with a surprised yelp.

“We’re not done here,” he said. The depths of his voice made you shiver, but you smiled. 

“I’m counting on it.”

You all got back from dinner late, after much celebrating for Sam and Elieen’s news. Dean even bought a bottle of champagne, which poor Eileen couldn’t partake in. (He ordered her a large piece of chocolate cake  to make up for it.)

You and Dean returned to the hotel room, but tonight, thoughts of sleep were still far from your mind. You sat on the edge of the bed and slipped off your heels, followed by taking off your earrings. You also watched Dean remove his watch and undo the first few buttons of his dress shirt in the bathroom mirror. 

He spied you watching him, and his lips quirked up at the corners.

“What’cha lookin’ at?” he asked in amusement. 

Instead of answering him, you stood up and made your way over to him. You hugged him from behind. 

“I really needed this,” you confessed. “Getting away from home for a while…I’m reminded that everything I need is right here.”

Dean turned in your arms and pulled you in close. He gave you a slow kiss that simmered with heat.

“Yeah, me too,” he agreed. He caught sight of your bikini and his swim trunks dry on a bathroom rail, and a smile grew on his face.

“Hey,” he said. “I’ve got an idea.”

“We’re so not allowed to do this,” you giggled quietly. 

The pool and the surrounding cabanas were empty. Not only was it very late, but the pool was supposed to be closed. However, it did allow you to feel comfortable in taking off your sundress, remaining just in the vibrant green bikini you were wearing earlier today. Dean took you by the hand, and the two of you tried to keep quiet while stepping into the pool.

“Oh, God, it’s freezing,” you whisper-laughed. Dean’s jaw locked, but he was also smiling, trying not to shiver.

“Aw, shit!” he said, when the water got past his waist, hitting his more sensitive areas. “Why’s it so damn cold?”

You moved closer to him and slipped your arms around his middle, trying to steal his body heat. He welcomed you with an arm wrapping around your waist.

“I guess they count on the sun to warm it up,” you replied. “We are in the Sunshine State after all.”

“Know it all,” Dean playfully groused. “I’m freezing my tits off.”

You saw the goosebumps that had broken out across his arms, and yours too. You smirked and teased one of his hardened nips with your fingers.

“Yeah, you are,” you agreed. He laughed and looked down at your bikini top, raising his brows at the stiff peaks.

“So are you,” he said. If you two stayed in here much longer, his nads were going to pay the price. “Maybe this wasn’t one of my best ideas.”

“Nope,” you said, shaking your head and hugging him tighter. “Definitely one of your best. But maybe let’s hop in that jacuzzi over there.”

Dean twisted his head in the direction you were pointing, and sure enough, there was a nice hot tub a few yards from the pool. You both left the pool and braced the cool air on your skin long enough to run to the jacuzzi, quietly laughing all the while. 

Dean turned the dial on the heat and cranked up the bubbling, and soon you two were able to relax together in the much warmer water. He held you to his chest, his fingers dragging up and down your arm, while you just took in some deep, relaxing breaths. You let go of every bit of stress that might’ve still been clinging to your psyche. 

A few minutes in, you turned your head to press a sweet kiss under his jaw. His wet scruff prickled against your lips, but you didn’t mind. 

“Ever think about letting this enter beard territory?” you asked. 

“Eh,” Dean shrugged, still rubbing some warmth back into your arm. “Not really my look.”

“It could be,” you said. A smile curved your lips. You turned in his arms to straddle his lap, where you got the leverage to cup his face. You gently scratched your nails along his stubbly cheeks. 

He raised a brow. “You want me to go full lumberjack, don’t you?”

“Maybe not full lumberjack,” you teased. “I’d settle for quarter-lumberjack.”

Dean chuckled loud enough that you had to shush him, with your mouth covering his. His heavy hands spanned your lower back as you treated him with progressively dirtier kisses. His hands lowered to grip your ass, encouraging you to grind down on him. You were more than willing to oblige him. 

Even with the light of the moon, a large palm tree covered the jacuzzi in some shade. It made the empty courtyard feel a little more secluded. You felt just secure enough with him here to reach down below the water. You slipped your hand under the waistband of his shorts, where you began to stroke his hardening length to full mast. 

He groaned into your mouth and squeezed your hips on reflex. 

“Better be careful, baby. You’re playing with fire right now,” he said gruffly. He had no compunctions about finishing what you’d started, right here and now. 

You smirked, but you did pull your hand out of his shorts and took his hand instead. 

“Come on,” you whispered.

When you and Dean made it back to the hotel room, it was a quick stop to the bathroom.

He guided you back against the tile wall in the shower and stole your breath with a hard kiss. His hand flew to the shower knob and turned on the water. 

Luckily this shower had a ledge for shampoo bottles and soap. You knocked all of that shit over when you hiked your foot up on it. You raked your nails through his hair and left his lips, just to suck harder on his neck.   

In turn, Dean untied your bikini with a practiced hand and let it drop with a wet thwap on the floor. He kneaded your breasts and rolled his thumbs over hardened nipples. He actually rubbed some warmth back into your skin as his hands migrated down your body. And he helped you shimmy out of the bikini bottoms, just as you helped him with the shorts. 

He took a healthy grip of your bare ass and again ground you against him, making you smile against his neck. But his fingers slipping between your legs disrupted your train of thought entirely. You felt his fingertips at your entrance, probing your depths, just testing the waters first. You gave a needy hum and clung to his arms.

He chuckled near your ear. “Already soaked, huh?”

“You didn’t exactly play fair,” you said, panting for breath. He hadn’t stopped touching you all the way from the jacuzzi to the elevator. You hadn’t even completely dried yourselves, leaving a trail of water from the scene of the crime, all the way up to the third floor where your room was. 

Dean earned a wanton moan from you when his fingers roughly massaged your clit. Your head pressed back against the tile wall, your hands clasping on his shoulders tight as a shudder of pleasure rippled through your body. He stroked you right to the edge of pleasure, until he could start to feel you tighten on him. Then he withdrew his hand. 

You whined at the empty feeling, giving him a look of annoyance. “Dean?”

“Patience,” he smirked. He used your wetness on his fingers to stroke himself back to painfully hard.

You scoffed at his words. This man didn’t often have a patient bone in his body. 

But once he was ready for you, he took advantage of the way you’d hiked up your leg, and he held you open while he positioned himself at your entrance. He took your hand and moved it down to replace his fingers on your clit. 

“Keep touchin’ yourself,” he ordered. His voice became laced with both grit and desire. You followed his directions and kept circling your fingers around that sensitive bundle of nerves, even though it forced a keening moan from your throat when he pressed his cock inside you. 

“Fuck, don’t stop,” he muttered. Your inner walls were squeezing on him tightly, like you were already halfway there. Dean aimed to catch up with you as he grabbed your hips and set an almost punishing pace. He wrapped your thigh around his hip so he could get an even deeper angle to his thrusts. He grabbed onto the shower head when he felt his foot slipping a bit in the tub.

You hung onto him by the back of his neck as the coil in your lower belly became dangerously tight. “Oh, fuck. Dean…”

He knew you were close. He could feel it. He replaced your fingers with his own over your clit, searching for the spot he knew always made you come undone. 

And he knew when he found it—you cried out at the warm pulsing in your core as it quivered around him. 

“Let go, baby,” he said roughly in your ear. He gave you a few more hard thrusts, both to draw out your orgasm and to finally reach his own. His balls clenched and a ragged groan escaped him, along with his release coating your walls. 

By now, the hot water from the shower head had turned lukewarm, but neither of you really cared, blinking drops of the spray out of your eyes as you each caught your breath. Dean brushed your wet hair away from your neck. You smiled, and you guided him by his cheek, back to your lips for a softer kiss. 

“‘S a damn shame you’re still on the pill,” he remarked. 

You blinked in response. When his words finally registered, you burst out laughing. You pressed your forehead against his. Jesus, did this man have baby fever. 

“Let’s just get married first. Then we’ll work on it, I promise,” you told him. “Besides, we don’t want to steal your brother’s thunder.”

Dean grimaced and made a sound of disgust.

“For fuck’s sake, you mind not mentioning my brother at a time like this?” he said.

To be fair, he was still deep inside you. He slipped himself out and let the shower head begin to wash away the remnants. 

“Sorry, sorry,” you laughed and drew him back in for another kiss. 

Despite himself, Dean couldn’t help but smile against your lips. His left hand twined with yours, where your ring glistened under the florescent light. 

A year ago, he never thought he would be here. A year ago, he didn’t plan any further than tonight, and how he was going to get back to his life tomorrow. 

A year ago, while he did have his brother…Dean still felt alone. 

Now, he had something real. He was on the cusp of sharing the rest of his life with someone who understood him, supported him, loved him, despite the demands of his job. 

Now, he had an actual future to build with you.

And he was more than ready to get started. 

AN: I so hope you guys enjoyed this addition to the SE-verse. Let me know what you think! 😘❤️‍🔥

Want to read this in podfic form? (Note: A "podcast" fic is a narrated version by my lovely friend Sandra, one of the hosts of the Idling in the Impala SPN podcast.)

🎙️ Listen to the episode by clicking the thumbnail below:

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Smoke Eater Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms

@foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373

@this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma

@iprobablyshipit91 @melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found

@thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @anticxrrupt

@lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman

@brianochka @branj19 @agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92

@lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx

@candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester

@chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420 @illicithallways @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

[lethargicluv]

Firefighter Simon Ghost Riley who realizes that the baked sweets and fresh bread aren’t coming from a bakery in town but actually from the girl who inherited her grandmother’s house across the street from the fire station. She stops by twice a week with everything she’s made in the last 2-3 days. Turns out she’s a recipe book editor and she likes to test every recipe in the books she’s asked to edit before she approves them for publishing. If she finds issues with the recipes she sends it back for revision. Imagine testing out a 300 page recipe book. Some weeks she stops by more than 2 times because she’s testing out meal recipes and ends up delivering large batches of lasagna and pasta and meatloaf to the station. Sometimes she messes up a bit and to make corrections to the recipes she has to remake it with some tweaking and so sometimes their meals are a little burnt, maybe a little bit too spicy, or not salty enough. Simon would appreciate it all the same, so do the rest of 141. Sometimes Soap helps her with her groceries when he sees her struggling with the large bags of flour and runs across the street to lend a hand. Gaz always offers to help her carry everything into the dining hall. Price always sees her off. It’s like everyone knows about her except Simon. He doesn’t until he nearly bowls her over running for the truck as the alarms go off and the team’s getting dispatched just as she’s dropping off a very large batch of mostly misshapen but very delicious sugar cookies. (The recipe was good just not good at holding their shape. Might be too much butter, she’ll have to send it back for revision.) They get back hours later to find these wobbly ghost shaped cookies and Soap literally wouldn’t stop laughing and tell him that the cookies looked like him. Even Price poked some fun at Simon. He catches her the next delivery struggling with several containers of roasted chicken and she nearly drops the remain chicken in her hands when she looks at the big man’s face and is met with a skull mask. They get to talking while the boys chow down on tonight’s chicken dinner and Simon thinks he’s been an idiot for holing up in his office all this time when such a lovely lady has been feeding them like this. She thinks Simon’s scary appearance doesn’t match his personality at all. He’s been so soft spoken despite his gruff voice. She makes him a bourbon cake the following week and laughs in amusement as Simon tries to fend off Soap trying to steal a bite.

Part 2

[honeipie]

I love love love your bakugou works! i was wondering if you could write something about him and like izuku, eijiro, shoto, and the reader all being firefighters. i just think ab katsuki in that black tank and the fuckin firefighter pants😋

24 HOURS

katsuki bakugo x reader

synopsis: dating your coworker can be fun sometimes

authors note: tysm!! katsuki would be such a good firefighter tbh 🌞

3:00 PM

“okay this is weird” currently you were in the passengers seat of your boyfriend’s pick up truck on the way to the fire station. luckily, you had both been called in for 24 hour shifts at the same time. katsuki rolled his eyes turning down the street.

��what?”

you motioned over to the radio which was playing your favorite playlist. the playlist that katsuki would complain so much about each time you put it on.

“you haven’t said a word about my music since we’ve gotten into this car” once he hit a stop light you leaned over the middle console getting close to his cheek “what is going on? are you mad or something?”

he turned his head giving you the smallest, quickest peck on your lips “nothin’s wrong” you squinted your eyes skeptically as the light turned green.

pulling out your phone you went to text the firehouse groupchat.

———

y/n

my boyfriend is way to happy at the moment.. what’s going on

izuku

just know that you won’t like it!

kiri

oh he’s not telling you? brutal.

—————

you had just pulled up to the station when you had read the message “katsuki, not today” there were tires, ropes, dumbbells, and ladders sitting outside and in front of the trucks. katsuki gave your thigh a strong squeeze with a smirk.

“happy drill day”

drill day. the one day out of the month where the whole station of firefighters would get together and do drills over and over for a couple of hours. this was your least favorite day considering everything it entailed. of course you knew that you had to stay in shape physically. it was just wasn’t that fun when you already have a trail of sweat running down your back and ruining whatever makeup you at least tried to do.

5:45 PM

“i hate him”

“then why are you looking at him like you want to lick the sweat off his body”

“first of all gross, second of all i may hate him but i’m not blind” you watched the man who was facing away from you. he was currently showing some of the rookies how to turn their sled pull into pulling the real hose.

his back muscles could be seen shifting quickly as he tugged on the hose from the truck. when he was at the end of the hose his arms flexed for one final tug.

he dropped the hose with a loud plop. he placed his hands on his hips and you could see his slow, heavy breaths from there.

“well? i just showed you how to do it. wrap the shit back up and show me” all of them scrambled to get the hose untangled and back into the wheel.

katsuki turned to face you immediately noticing the way you weren’t training.

“why the hell are you here?” he looked over at mina who was checking something on her nails.

“well my boyfriend and best friend work here, and i’m bored, so i think you can put together the rest of the pieces”

“don’t you got people to revive or some shit?”

mina was an emt for the local hospital. her and kirishima actually met at a fire scene when she came over to check out some of his injuries, and the rest was history.

“look at you loud and wrong. i’m not on a shift right now so i decided make myself feel better about my career decisions by watching you people workout for hours on end”

katsuki shook his head clearly fed up with her and the conversation. you just had to pick her to be your best friend.

“just standin’ here?” he asked standing directly in front of you.

“i finished” you huffed out looking up at him. the heat from outside was already kicking your ass, but him being up close made you feel hotter.

“alright, it’s time to do farmers carry. two laps around the room with a minute break in between”

a frown rested on your face when you heard he wanted you to do more. it had almost hit the two hour mark and you were ready to wrap it up.

“i don’t think i can do anymore today. my body hurts”

he scoffed hearing your words “and you know who else’s body is gonna hurt? the people dying in fires because you couldn’t carry them out”

“i’ve done it before so i feel like that doesn’t count” you reached your hand out placing it on his waist “c’mon lieutenant, go easy on me? just for today”

you’d pulled the lieutenant card. sure, that was his rank and people called him that out of respect, but you? you just did it differently. the way you enunciated the ‘t’. the way you’d touch him, because you always touched him when you said it. this was a rare pull so you must’ve been tired.

katsuki raised his eyebrow at your words. a smirk creeped onto his face before he leaned down giving you a long kiss.

mina’s face scrunched up in disgust, and the rookies just mumbled about how his demeanor switched so fast.

when he pulled away he whispered softly in your ear “you just earned yourself another lap. now get those dumbbells and get to work” he turned going back to check on the rookies’ progress.

“well that backfired” mina kicked her feet against the mat.

“yeah, ya think?”

so you the farmers carry, then worked on the stair machine for your last exercise. after that you made your way over to katsuki. he was watching the rookies start on their cooldown stretches.

“i actually finished this time so i’m going to take a shower” you gave him a sharp pat on the back and went to leave, but he grabbed you wrist dragging you back.

“you mad?”

“hm.. not if i smell okonomiyaki when i get out the shower”

you moved your hand away continuing your walk to the bathroom.

6:45

“thank you katsuki”

he only grumbled in response taking a bite of his. kirishima frowned in the corner arms crossed against his chest “why didn’t you make us any? we worked out hard too”

“not enough ingredients”

izuku sat beside you drinking his smoothie “y’know i hate liars. i restocked that pantry yesterday”

mina stood beside kirishima one arm wrapped around his waist “i could give you some of those leftovers from last night”

kiri shook his head “nah, i don’t really want that-“ he shifted his head to see mina giving him a look “oh! no yeah i want that” the two retreated back into the station with nothing more than a wave. shoto almost broke his neck watching the two go inside.

“they’re not gonna have sex in the kitchen right?..”

“no! not in the kitchen. maybe that big closet on the way, but not in the kitchen” you put the last bit of okonomiyaki in your mouth “i’m actually surprised you caught onto that”

“i know right? got the social cues of a fuckin’ boulder”

“katsuki that’s not funny” but the smile on your face gave away that it was a little funny. all was interrupted when a car pulled into the station. all four of you got up to see who it was. a woman got out of the car and made her way to the other side.

“hi! i’m sorry to cause you the trouble, but we’ve done everything and can’t get it off” she opened the door to reveal a boy, about seven years old, with his arm stuck in a water jug “i asked my dad what to do and he said you’d be able to help?”

you all had to stop yourselves from laughing when he struggled getting his arm out of the car.

“don’t worry about it ma’am. we can get that thing right off” you assured her with a smile. izuku had already went inside to get a pair of pliers.

“i know it’s stuck, but can you you still feel your arm? move it around without any pain?”

as you asked he lifted up his arm and slammed it back down into his side. the force took him by surprise and he ended up falling over “i’m okay!” he went to get up his mother assisting him.

“stop being a fool and answer the nice lady’s question please”

“my arm feels fine”

10:00 PM

“alright,” you placed your cards down onto the table and started to rise “i’m gonna head to sleep”

the crew mumbled quick goodbyes already setting up for another round. you made your way through the station until you reached one of the bedrooms. slowly, you opened the door making sure to not make too much noise. after closing it once more, you went to strip out of your clothes into something more comfortable.

“scoot over”

a grunt left katsuki as he rolled over to one side of the bed. it was no surprise that he was already asleep. this man worked like clockwork. exactly at 8:30pm every day he would stop whatever he was doing and head up to bed.

you crawled up next to him wrapping your arms around his torso. katsuki didn’t care about that big spoon, little spoon stuff. all he wanted to do was get comfortable and rest.

your head rested on his chest listening to the rhythmic beat of his heart.

“i hope we don’t get any calls tonight”

“me either”

4:00 AM

“i knew you’d like this one”

you had bent over laughing at the sight before you. a teen had gotten stuck in one of the baby swings, so they had to call to get him out. you were asleep when they got the call and katsuki refused to tell you what it was.

“how does this even happen?” you tried to subside your laughter walking over to go help kiri get the poor, embarrassed teen out of the swing.

“it was a dare! i couldn’t back down the stakes were too high”

you wrapped your arms under his armpits while kirishima got around his calves. you counted down from three then started to pull him out of the seat.

“what is more embarrassing than this?”

“asking my crush out in front of her whole lunch table”

“well hopefully her whole lunch table doesn’t see that recording” you nodded your head over to his friends who were videotaping the whole thing. the teens started to go back and forth as you wiggled him out.

after making sure there was no little injuries on him katsuki walked over “all of you should get home. we decided not to call the cops, but someone else might”

they all nodded their heads in understanding waiting until you turned around to whisper “i should’ve gotten myself stuck. she was bad as shit”

you cringed at the words, but katsuki let out a loud laugh. you slapped him on his arm going over to the truck “it’s not funny!”

3:00 PM

you hopped back into katsuki’s pickup with a smile on your face “another shift completed. i can’t wait to go home and get a good nights sleep”

he threw both of your bags into the backseat before getting into the driver’s seat. after the early morning call, there were a few others. a couple of bush fires, and people stuck in an elevator. safe to say, you couldn’t wait for your two days off.

“i bet you can’t. got a hot date with one of those boys? if i remember they called you bad as shit?”

you rolled your eyes at his little joke.

“shut up! you promised you wouldn’t bring that up again”

he shrugged a smug smile on his lips as he pulled out of the lot.

“can i play my music?”

“fuck no”

“katsuki!”

taglist! @sagejin 🫶🏾

lmk if you want to be added

[qprpbj]

i know the firefighter darry concept i have rattling around in my brain somewhere is 911 inspired not church inspired BUT. concept of darry being part of the team that answers to the church call…… esp bc he had no idea where the hell his brother was bc dally wouldn’t fess up. not knowing it’s his fucking baby brother and his best friend in the middle of that fire till he gets there and is trying to assess injury. hmmmmm

[s0rinsleeps]

I’m dead- I’m alive! But I’m dead.

[phantomsies]

“..you’re what I’m waiting for, my missing puzzle piece..”

firefighter!ace + you

“Promise me something..no matter how bad shit gets, we’ll always have each other..”

“In this life or the next, I wouldn’t want to do this crazy ride with anyone else, rookie..”

[indigo-greer-collins]

has anyone thought of a firefighter AU for the shaw pack? (no i don’t just like imagining the boys in uniform and carrying people to safety what are you talking about dude…)

[leaves-of-laurelin]

But I love him, whether or no.

Henry moves to New York City to help Pez with the opening of his new bar in the East Village. The location—fortunately for business, but unfortunately for Henry’s sanity—is directly across the street from a fire station. The sound of sirens is bad, Alex the gorgeous firefighter is worse. But when Alex helps Henry avoid a near catastrophe the night of the bar’s opening, the two form a tentative friendship that starts to develop into something more.

Read on AO3

Fandom: Red, White & Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston

Pairing: firstprince (Alex x Henry)

Complete, Chapters: 14, Rating: E, Words: 77k+

[an-au-blog]

This stunning art makes me think of this video and I'd love to see a lawlu version of this (after all, Luffy is semi-canonically a firefighter)

Law is assigned to do checkups and he hates it because he knows that it'll be full of crying babies with small toys up their noses and cranky old people who think they're dying because they drank two aspirins instead of one. So when he heard from Shachi and Penguin told him about the firefighter drill looking for volunteers, he was on board. He wasn't running away from his duties, there were enough doctors on duty, he was just being "punished" for arguing with his supervisor.

He went to the building where the make-believe fire would take place, they told him to lay down as if he was injured and wait. A siren went off and several burly men rushed in. One a little shorter than him ran up to him, looked at the card he had his "injuries listed" and looked him straight in the eyes. There was something so reassuring in the way he smiled at him. "Don't worry, I'll get you out of here" he said and shit, Law's throat clogged. The firefighter picked him up as if he was as light as a feather.

[us3rnam3-r3dact3d]

the world (it burns through me)

Chapter 5

Ao3 | 3.7k Words | Darlin's POV

Dr. McDreamy is on the case. X-rays, bone fragments, and late night confessions.

TW: Medical jargon, discussion of broken bones, trauma, and abuse, Alexis Solaire (just ya know... general warning for her)

It had been two weeks since you’d made your prodigal return to the 10-19, and in that time, you’d managed to avoid having any conversation that delved past surface platitudes and small talk with David. You weren’t sure if you’d consider your conversation in the office to be an argument, but that’s what it felt like. You thought about apologizing. But then, you didn’t really think you were wrong. 

David drove you to the firehouse every day. You hung around the house while he was on shift, napped across the bunkroom and lounge, ate the seemingly endless snacks that spawned in the kitchen every day. He drove you back to his place at night. You chatted with his spouse while he cooked dinner. You watched reruns of Grey’s Anatomy and The X-Files in the living room late into the morning hours, too restless to sleep. You could see the front door from your spot on the leather sectional. You guarded the two of them while they slept. 

You bothered Sam, mostly to avoid talking to the rest of the fire crew. Asher followed you around when he wasn’t on a call, his pathetic puppy dog eyes wide and terribly effective. Milo had attempted to talk to you a few times. He would call out to you, the familiar cadence of bickering and teasing coloring his tone as he shouted down fleeting hallways; “Tanker!” Even after so many years of living in Dahlia, his heavy, North Eastern accent hadn’t settled into the more neutral, South Western tones of those around you. You supposed that you couldn’t shake Washington out of your mouth, even after being here for over a decade. 

You were faster than him, always had been, and you escaped into the relative safety of the ambulance bay. Neither of them followed you there, in Sam’s domain, where they couldn’t trap you in the context of your past with them. 

Sam was a fresh start. Sam and Vincent and their nervous probie didn’t know you, didn’t know how reckless and stupid and stubborn you were. You didn’t have to sit with the heaviness of it all, with the betrayal you’d levied against them, the abandonment. 

David needed you. They all did. And you’d left. They hated you. They had to hate you. 

Eventually, Dr. Collins (and he was a doctor, his gossiping little probie ratted him out) convinced you to accompany him to an off-the record appointment at Dahlia General late at night. 

“Your name won’t end up on any paperwork.” He assured, huddled in the back of the ambulance as he ran paperwork between calls. He looked so fucking good in his uniform shirt. Navy and fitted, the short sleeves curled around his biceps as tight as skin. You wanted him to lock his arm around your throat and squeeze. 

There was something wrong with you. 

“I don’t have any money.” You said.

“That don’t matter.” Sam shook his head, that little crease deepening in his brow. Perpetual worry. Continuous stress. Your finger twitched to reach across the miniscule space between you, him crouched over his clipboard on the ride-along bench, you sat criss-cross on the gurney he’d just disinfected. You wanted to ease the tension from the lines on his face, spread your grubby fingers across his skin until it went slack. “Officially, we’re providing medical treatment to no one, so there’s no one to charge for it.” 

“Clever thing.” You grinned. Sam didn’t strike you as the sort of man who blushed, but if he did,  you imagined it would look something like this. His head ducked, his mouth quirked into something resembling a smile. You could spend a lot of time chasing that expression on his face. 

 David didn’t ask questions as you walked to Sam’s truck instead of his that night. They must have conspired about this. Petulant frustration bubbled in your gut. You swallowed around complaints, huddled into Sam and didn’t meet David’s eyes as he called out the same thing he did every time someone he cared about got into a vehicle he wasn’t driving:

“Be careful.” 

Sam’s truck was smaller than David’s and older too. You ran your fingers across the leather seats and dashboard, shifting to better accommodate your still-sore ribs. He huffed as he plopped himself down into the driver’s seat. His keys jingled with the tremor of his right hand. You’d been watching Sam’s hands for two weeks now, too weak to watch his eyes for more than a few seconds at a time. You could map that shake like a stretch of familiar road, curving and rough and so known to you you didn’t have to think as you drove it. 

Dahlia General was a big hospital. It was Dahlia’s only Level One trauma center, so it was where the 10-19 dropped off most of its critically injured patients. You’d crossed the threshold of the ER countless times since you were a probie, often for yourself. You had the record for the most on-the-job injuries in the house’s history. Gabe had a plaque made and everything.  

Sam didn’t pull into the ER bay, but instead into a covered parking garage that led to an employee entrance. He leaned over you to pull out a red decal that he hung from the rear view mirror. His name was inscribed in white text across the surface; Dr. Samuel Collins. 

“Not a word.” He hissed as your mouth started to fit around a smart comment. You pressed your teeth into your tongue as he cut the engine. 

You passed a series of locker rooms with a handful of exhausted looking doctors in green scrubs and rumpled white coats. They seemed not to see you, but a few of them stopped their hurried paths to shout a greeting to Sam. Some of them called him by name. Some, the younger, nervous-looking ones, scurried past him without making eye contact. If they did address him, it was always with his title instead of his name. Sam’s face darkened each time, slipping into a waxy, distant mask. 

Sam dismissed the x-ray tech handily. He had no white coat, no badge with his name, no credentials, but everybody still treated him like a doctor. He stepped into the darkened room, took a deep breath, and turned to you. His face was blank and slack. 

“Right.” He nodded. “Hands and ribs.” 

Sam ran the x-ray like it was the most familiar thing in the world to him. He laid out your hands, palm down, marked them left and right, laid a heavy, protective apron over your chest before stepping behind a wall and running the machine. He had you stretch out on a cold, metal table and took images of your ribs. He led you from the x-ray room down a secluded hallway to a small exam room, the lights still off. 

“You’re a doctor.” You said into the pin-drop quiet between you. Sam sighed out through his nose. 

“That I am.” He replied. 

“If I were a doctor,” you cocked your head to the side, let the unnatural curl of your top lip pull your mouth into a vicious sort of smile, “I wouldn’t take the pay cut to be a paramedic captain.” 

“Yeah well…” Sam’s face darkened, the joke slipping past him and landing as an insult. You swallowed around the apology that beat at the back of your throat. “We aren't the same person.” 

There was a rap of knuckles against the door of your exam room. You jumped, a jolt of pain running up your ribcage and catching your breath. Sam’s bright eyes caught yours for a moment before he reached for the door handle. 

The prettiest man you’d ever seen in your life stepped through the darkened doorway, x-ray films in his thin, long hands. He was wearing the same sort of white coat that all of the interns and residents in the locker rooms were wearing, but his was stark and pressed and perfect. Underneath it he wore a set of maroon scrubs, separate, it seemed, from the rest of the hospital. His hair was so blonde it was nearly white, his skin pale and flawless, his gray eyes shining even in the darkness of your exam room. He smiled, his teeth straight and white and sharp. He extended one of those long hands to you, and his touch was cold as fuck when you met it. He looked nothing like Patrick Dempsey, but your mind supplied the moniker McDreamy anyway. 

“Hello, there,” he smirked, his voice tinged with a smarmy British accent. You flinched at the sound of it, your face curling in disgust. His eyes flicked across your features, but seemed to find no offense among them. “You must be-”

“Porter.” Sam warned from his spot in the corner. “Please, just tell ‘em what’s going on. No flirting.” Dr. McDreamy turned on the heel of his fancy shoes, held a hand up in the scout’s solute. 

“No flirting.” McDreamy repeated. “Now, if you don’t mind, Samuel, I have a patient to attend to. Don’t forget that I’m doing you a favor.” 

“Yeah,” Sam rolled his eyes and made for the door, “add it to my tab. Just come get me when y’all are done.” 

Some childish, stupid part of you wanted to ask him to stay. Part of you wanted to reach out, fold his hand in yours, and let this whole stupid appointment pass over you like water, knowing that Sam would take it all in for you. You tightened your shaking fists and swallowed down that need like bile. 

McDreamy set your x-rays in the light box and flicked it on. He studied them for a moment before casting his eyes over his shoulder to you. 

“You’re a friend of Sammy’s?” He asked. You snorted at the endearment. 

“I’m a firefighter.” You lied. Porter hummed and turned back to his images. 

“Your hands are fine,” Dr. McDreamy said after a moment, his canines glinting as he pointed out your intact knuckles, “just bruising. Your ribs…” he shook his head and clicked his tongue, one long finger trailing over the x-ray of your shattered bones before stepping towards you and lifting your shirt to examine the swelling. “You’ll need surgery.” You pressed your lips together and recoiled from his touch. 

“Nah.” You shook your head. 

McDreamy blinked up at you. You’d finally caught him off guard, thrown him off his rhythm. 

“The bone fragments-” you liked the way his posh accent curled around the word. You shivered at that particular thought. 

“I don’t care.” You managed to cross your arms. “I’ve survived plenty of bone fragments.” Dr. McDreamy held your eye for a moment longer before sighing and nodding. 

“Sam will have wandered off by now. He can’t help himself.” He made for the door, collecting your images and handing them over as he did. You folded them until you could stuff them into your back pocket. McDreamy cringed at the sight. 

He led you through the near abandoned halls of Dahlia Gen. You’d always thought that this place would have stayed as bright and loud and alive at night as it did during the day. At least, that’s what the ER was like. The emergency room was like a living creature, teeming with movement and noise. Marie Greer was the charge nurse down there, and she ran most night shifts with an iron fist. Every time you’d ended up in her care, she’d reamed you out within an inch of your life only to bring you back again with her excellent medical skills. You wondered if she was down there tonight, running her ER like a conductor before an orchestra. You wondered what she would say if she saw you. If she would be the one who could convince you to lay down, get treated, get surgery, get better. 

You wouldn’t risk it. You’d slip out the back and hope she didn’t catch sight of you. 

“You know,” McDreamy said as he led you past a door with big bold letters stating NO ENTRY BEYOND THIS POINT, “pretty face like yours… I could work out that scar tissue faster than you can say ‘please.’” You stared up at him, that smug smile on his face. 

“Go fuck yourself.” 

Porter laughed. After a moment, you joined him, ribs be damned. 

You came upon a door that was marked GALLERY. Porter swiped his keycard and opened it, poking his head in before leaning back and motioning you in. 

Sam was sat in what looked to be a stiff, uncomfortable chair, alone in a gallery space facing a glass panel. His back was bent, elbows on his knees, his posture that of intense focus. You chanced a glance down and caught sight of a vast, brightly lit operating room. A sea of doctors and nurses were moving around a patient on a table like ants. Movements were synched and smooth, flowing between each other as naturally as breathing. Standing over the patient’s left side, at the epicenter of all of the movement, was a woman draped in surgical gowns and gloves. You could see fire red curls escaping the bun and scrub cap at the base of her neck. Her face was pinched in concentration, her hands, painted red, were tying knot after every knot into the flesh of the patient’s still-beating heart. Sam’s shaking hands tried in vain to copy her movements.

“Christ,” you breathed. Sam jolted and looked up at you. His face was strange and open in a way you hadn’t seen before. Something like grief was clear across his features. 

“Yeah,” he breathed, sitting back in his chair, “that’s um…” he swallowed, “that’s Alexis Solaire. She’s a cardiothoracic surgeon. She’s the best of the best.” 

“She’s not human.” Porter chimed from the doorway. “But then, are any of us?”

Sam stood, shook out his shaking hand, and turned away from the OR. As he did, Alexis Solaire looked up from her work very suddenly. It was like she had known Sam was watching, and she knew now that he had turned away. Her work faltered for only a moment before those careful knots were continued. 

He was quiet as he walked you out, hands firmly in his pockets. He waved McDreamy off impatiently, too quiet and withdrawn now to bother with his flirting and teasing. Porter slipped away into the guts of the hospital as you and Sam slipped out of them, into the dingy, dark parking garage. 

Sam sat in the driver’s seat, both hands shaking, his face drawn and pale. He had history in that hospital. He had people there. And it was too much for him. 

“Gimme your keys,” you said. Sam’s eyes snapped to you. 

“What?” He asked softly. 

“You look like you’re gonna pass out.” You smiled. “Let me drive.” He hesitated for a moment, only a moment, before relenting. 

Halfway through the drive, your fancy new phone propped on your knee shining directions up at you through the dark, Sam’s voice rose through the silence in the passenger seat. 

“Your ex,” he said, “the one you’re afraid of-” 

“I’m not afraid of him.” You snapped. Sam was only quiet for a breath before continuing. 

“Did he do this to you?” 

It was the question that had been hanging over you for two weeks, since you’d given Sam just a glimpse of Quinn in that ambulance. You wouldn’t be surprised if Sam had told David. That’s why you couldn’t bear to talk to him about anything serious, why you couldn’t let Milo and Asher chase you down and pull the answer out of you. It felt as though everybody was staring you down all of the time, that question sitting in the back of their throats, beating at their teeth to jump out at you. 

You gnashed your teeth against the instinct to snap at him, to tell him to fuck off, to remind him exactly how little he was entitled to when it came to your history.

But then again, he’d snuck you into a hospital, his hospital, got you looked at for nothing, got one of his fancy doctor friends to see you. You owed him. 

“No.” You gritted out. You flexed your hands on the wheel. You were speeding, just a bit, and purposefully slowed down. “He… it was some friends of his. One hook up and a guy she was seeing. I was… asking her some questions. She didn’t like that.” 

“What, you faced down two grown folks on your own?” Sam huffed. “No wonder you got your ass kicked.” 

“Hey, I walked away from that fight.” You grunted. “They did not.” Sam laughed, and then seemed to realize you were serious. 

“Lord have mercy,” he breathed, “you’re gonna give me an ulcer. You won?” 

“I did.” You grinned. 

“You’re good.” 

“I’m good.” 

Sam turned on the radio, flipping to a pre-saved channel that played shitty, rock-adjacent music that old men liked. He sang along to a few songs, off-key and rasping, his voice so unsure even though he knew the words. 

Sam’s house was deep in the woods just outside of Dahlia, surrounded by tall trees and overgrown grasses. It wasn’t big, but you knew it was expensive just by the look of it. Intentionally aged wood siding on a brick foundation, windows with curtains drawn. A wrap around porch with matching rocking chairs and a string of industrial looking lights. A coffee mug still sat on the wooden planks of the porch next to the plain welcome mat, empty and dark-rimmed. Sam bent to snag it as he passed, unlocking the door with his good hand. 

It was dark inside, still and cold. Sam flicked on a lamp beside the door. A sprawling living room emerged from the dark. A large, worn leather sectional filled up most of the space. Somebody else had decorated it. You couldn’t imagine Sam carefully matching the accents in the rug to the curtains. One wall was lined with floor to ceiling bookcases, stacked haphazardly with sterile-white medical texts. Knowing the costs of textbooks, that shelf alone must have cost more than the rest of the house combined. 

Your fancy new phone buzzed in your pocket. You snagged it out, hands still numb from the cold outside. David’s name lit up on the still-generic wallpaper. 

ETA??

You shot back a quick reply. 

My hand is fine. Ribs are broken, but fine. Crashing at Sam’s. Too late to drive. 

David wouldn’t argue with the ‘too tired to drive’ excuse. 

“Do you… um…” Sam was standing too close to you when you turned. You jumped, twinging your ribs as you did. You winced and stepped back, grasping at your side. “Shit,” Sam’s hands hovered over your shoulders, as though he wanted to steady you but he was afraid to touch, “I’m sorry, Darlin’. You okay?” 

“Yeah,” you replied instinctively, “I’m fine. Jumpy. Always… I’m always just a little jumpy.” 

Sam’s dark eyes flicked over your face. His full lips quirked up at the corners in that ghost of a smile you wanted to chase. 

“Do you want my bed?” 

“Nah,” you shook your head, “unless you’re joining. I won’t kick you out on the street.” 

“Nonsense.” Sam grinned outright, straight, sharp teeth. You wanted to run your tongue along them to see if they could cut. “It’s no trouble. And you’re injured. I’m not letting you bum it on the couch.” 

“Rich boy don’t have a guest room?” The anxious shake in your chest eased a bit as the banter broke out between you. Sam shook his head and stepped forward into your space again, his hands hovered over your shirt, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. Fuck, you were a sucker for brown eyes. 

“Can I?’ He asked. You nodded once. He lifted your shirt gingerly, his hands carefully avoiding actually touching your skin. He first assessed your stab wound, poking and prodding at the gauze before sliding one cold hand up, pressing painfully into your ribs. You gasped, grabbed his shoulder to steady yourself, and threaded your fingers into the fabric of his shirt. “I know, Darlin’, I know. Just lemme…” He ran his fingers along the line of your ribcage one more time before receding. His hand fell to your hip and held on, keeping you upright as you caught your breath. 

“How much longer are you gonna be doing that, exactly?” You gasped. 

“Well, seeing as you’re not getting surgery,” his tone betrayed his disapproval, “a while longer. I wanna make sure your chest wall maintains its integrity. One bone fragment in the wrong place can lead to a collapsed lung. I’m not lookin’ to pull you back from that particular precipice.” 

“Everybody’s so worried about my bone fragments.” You grinned. 

Sam produced an oversized t-shirt bearing the name of a medical college that you didn’t recognize and a pair of fleece pajama pants. He tried again, gentleman that he was, to put himself on the couch, but you wouldn’t have it. The two of you ended up on opposite sides of Sam’s insanely large bed. His blankets were plush and worn, well loved. Sam’s things were nice, nicer than you had expected from his appearance, but it was clear he used things about as far as he could. It was a habit you saw in yourself sometimes. You didn’t think you’d find it in some richy rich doctor with a giant house. 

Sam fell asleep quickly, his quiet puffs of breath evening out. You were so tired. You laid awake, watching out of the second story window as the trees moved in silent conversation. 

“His name is Quinn,” you whispered into the quiet of the room, “and I was in love with him. Was. Maybe I still am. He um… he was rough. But I like that. I thought I did.” You turned your head against Sam’s plush pillow. “He hurt me. Did… um… all of this shit to me.” Your fingers trailed over your face. “I gave as good as I got but… I am… I am scared of him. Really scared.” 

Silence filled the room in the wake of your rasping voice, nothing but the pounding of your heart and Sam’s quiet breaths to reply to you.

[zepskies]

Series Masterlist - Smoke Eater

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.   

AN: "Smoke eater": a self-appointed slang term for a firefighter.

Get ready for an AU! Several SPN characters will make their appearances: Sam and John Winchester, Castiel as "Cas Novak," Ellen and Jo Harvelle, Jack Kline, Benny Lafitte, Gordon Walker, Meg Masters, Chuck Shurley, Nick (yes, even him), and more!

Series Tags/Warnings: (**18+ only!) There will be a lot of heart, a lot of fun, drama, heartbreak, protective Dean, and even a murder mystery. Rating for eventual smut, perilous situations, and other chapter-specific tags.

🎵 Listen While You Read:

The Smoke Eater Playlist: YouTube || Spotify

Chapters:

Part 1 - Class and Style - Podcast Version!

Part 2 - Lieutenant Winchester

Part 3 - Got a Hold on Me

Part 4 - Rocky Road

Part 5 - Twitterpated

Part 6 - Just Casual

Part 7 - Cherry Pie & Lemon Drizzle

Part 8 - Likewise, Baby

Part 9 - Do Not Disturb

Part 10 - Toil and Trouble

Part 11 - Heart of the Home

Part 12 - All in the Family

Part 13 - Boiling Point

Part 14 - Message in a Bottle

Part 15 - The Good Part

Part 16 - Break Down the Gates

Part 17 - The Real Deal

Part 18 - V for Vendetta

Part 19 - Sacrifice

Epilogue - Easy as Pie

Series Complete!

Bonus One-Shots:

Something Real** Now that you and Dean are officially engaged, you take some much needed time off together for a family vacation. But even with the wedding set for next year, the two of you are still at odds when it comes to one key part of your future together…

(Want to listen to the podcast version? Keep scrolling below!)

🎙️ Podcast Fics:

Listen to Part 1 in podfic form!

(A "podfic" is where you can listen to the story narrated.)

(Cover image and narration by @talltalesandbedtimestories)

Or listen to the official Idling in the Impala episode of Smoke Eater Part 1 on YouTube:

Or listen on Spotify.

Listen to the Idling in the Impala podfic episode of the sequel story, Something Real below:

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Series Tag List:

Comment below if you'd like to be tagged in this series!

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[lethargicluv]

Firefighter Ghost Blurb 2

Part 1

Firefigher Simon "Ghost" Riley who didn't think he'd ever mess up a team training exercise until he's falling from the scaffolding to the safety mats below because his boot missed a rung when he saw your face smiling at them from your second story window. Soap is gaping down from the top of the obstacle course in disbelief because LIEUTENANT SIMON RILEY just fumbled so hard he actually fell, he never thought he'd ever see that happen. Gaz is still in position to start once Ghost made it to the top joining Soap but is now trying very hard not to laugh outloud so his face is buried in his arms and his shoulder are trembling slightly. Price has his clipboard to his forehead in exasperation because how would they even make it to regionals for the upcoming yearly firefighter team obstacle course competition if they were messing up in practice like this. Simon has never been more thankful for his mask because he's more red than the firetrucks in the station now that he knows you saw what just happened. He can see you giggling in your window from where he lies splayed out on the mats and he thinks that if he gets to see you laugh like this more often he wouldn't mind falling again. 

You find out that they've been training to compete next month when you bring today's taco tuesday dinner over to them. The recipe seemed to call for a bit too much spice and you get to witness Soap choke and splutter while Gaz brings the table more water. Simon muses that it can't be that bad and that Soap's just a wimp until he takes a bit as feels like someone lit his mouth on fire. Price jokes and tells you it's a good punishment for them for messing up training today. When Soap recovers from his coughing fit he asks if you'll come watch them compete and Simon wants to strangle him because he knows that Soap knows exactly what he's doing the cheeky little bastard. He's going have to discuss upping the level of training with Price after this because if you're coming there's no way in hell he's going to let 141 place anything but first place. They're going to nationals and that’s final. It's now non-negotiable. 

You tell him as he walks you back across the street to your house after dinner that you're thrilled to watch them compete and that you think he looks particularly handsome when hes moving. A week later he brings you a sweatshirt that matches theirs that says 141's honorary member, Hearth, and when you ask his why Hearth he says they all agreed that you remind them of Hestia the goddess of the hearth. You're hospitable and always by the fire stations side. Someone that takes care of them all. You make him what’s possibly the best shepard’s pie he’s ever had the next day.

[valoale]

@kk1smet asked, thou shall receive 💅🏻✨

I must press this is a WIP and I am going to post it unfinished because I’ve been successfully sitting on it for nearly five months because there’s something bugging me about this but I don’t know what and I’m afraid if I say to myself that I will finish it I will sit on it forever so I’m just gonna go ahead and release him from my WIP jail and let him roam free

I’ve been unknowingly edging @emsuemsu for months and I’m truly and deeply sorry about that 🫡

Also special thank you for my bestie @sarxzu for building this AU with me and always listening to my insane rants about my blorbos and always hyping me up and helping me out with her amazing ideas❣️

[skwldy]

for @winters-witch24 my beloved

schemmenti as a firefighter !!

[cherryredstars]

HELLO BABE !!

just wanted to say CONGRATS ON 1K FOLLOWERS/CHERRYS

Umm I just wanted to request something hmm oh yea I saw an firefighter!Miguel

so firefighter!Miguel x bookworm!Reader (fem) miguel ohara age: 32,reader age :29

(reader appearance: wears big circles glasses and usual wear oversized shirts or hoodie,and baggy pants)

Where reader was reading one of the newest book she find interesting in the huge library she come almost everyday if not working,as she sitting down in her usual spot in the library,no ones knows who put the fire,or how the fire come inside the library,as she didn't notice the fire coming,if it wasn't for miguel saving her life (reader was the one last surviver),the only thing she saw was him,and how he voice helped her through the fire,even when she thought she was going to die,she woke up in an hospital bed,the nurses said that miguel Ohara was the one who saved her,and after that she at least wanted to give him something for saving him,at first he was rude and bit annoyed by her,and telling her to leave and that he was other things that more important,but that didn't stop the poor bookworm! Reader,she would come to the firefighter place a d give them sweets and others,but she could give miguel an special hand craft scarf for him with his logo,he just grabbed it and went to his firefighters dorm room ( i just learned that firefighters have their own dorm room like their own section for them),she was an happy that he becoming more open with her,little by little miguel becoming more comfortable with his little bookworm,enjoying when she speaks about the latest series of her favorite author,loving her voice when she reads him her favorite books to him,when he get the chance too,his close friend notice that this 6'9 gaint seem to be more eager to come to work,and if you looked at his eyes there an spark in his eyes,whenever he see you with that cheerful smile

IDK I wanted an fluff but AGAIN CONGRATS ON 1K and also I fine with waiting however you like for this one,this was just an thought lingering in my head,if you want you could put this into an fic 😅

ANYWAY HAVE AN GREAT DAY

Pairing: Firefighter!Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: Fluff, Mentions of Fires and Hospitals

Summary: Food is a way to a man’s heart, they say. 

Word Count: 1.4K (Not Edited)

They say it was caused by a sparking outlet. 

A collection of those hot sparks strong enough to catch on the worn down fibers of the carpet, traveling along the floor and building on the glossy wooden shelves and aged pages of paper. Pages and binding glue and wood charring and giving off heavy exhaust. Creating heat that felt like you were nearing the sun naked. The rundown building and its almost non-existent sprinkler system was no match for the roaring fire. 

You hadn’t seen it, too absorbed over the inked pages to notice the hazy cloud making its way to the back of the library. Your headphones playing soft tones just loud enough to block out the sound of panicked steps from the very few patrons studying in the late hours. It wasn’t until the smoke started to thicken, a sputtering cough leaving your lips. You had ignored the first few coughs, massaging your throat to try to soothe it of the sudden ache and dryness. Until it wouldn’t stop, a difficulty to breath started to build in your lungs as your arm came around your nose and mouth. 

The smoke had swirled menacingly above you, a sense of clueless panic embodying your frame as an orange glow started to burn your way. You had looked frantically for a way out, finding it almost impossible in the darkening smog. You were sure you were done for, tears building up in your eyes from either the smoke or your fear. You were on the verge of passing out, knees buckling when a strong arm had wrapped around you and picking up your body effortlessly. Your vision had started to blur and darken at the edges, finally giving in when the first burst of fresh air entered your lungs. 

When you had woken up at the hospital, you were glad to find you had only inhaled too much smoke. You were cleared quickly, discharged with a teasing warning to not get too lost in your books again and a small scolding about how lucky you were that the local fire department captain was there to save you. You had bashfully thanked them, already forming a plan in your head to pay back the brave firemen for saving you. 

You had showed up a few days later, nervously holding a tray of baked sweetness. A kind fireman had guided you inside, bringing you to the small department kitchen to place the tray down. The firemen had thanked you graciously for the sweets, making jokes that you should get caught up in fires more often if this was their thanks. You had laughed along kindly, getting swept up in conversation with some of the younger men until someone had called out the word captain. 

You had quickly looked over, seeing a tanned skin giant. He had a furrowed brow, his thick hair slightly messed up from his helmet. His eyes had instantly darkened when he had seen you start to approach. You had grown shy over his attention, muttering out a small thanks for rescuing you. His jaw had ticked then before going into rant about how irresponsible you were, how you should be more observant about your surroundings. A flaming flush had overcome your face as the rest of the crew had stopped their idle chatting at the sound of their chief’s booming voice. You had fidgeted nervously, pulling at the sleeves of your hoodie and resisting the urge to reach up and adjust your glasses as everyone watched you get chewed out. 

When he was done, you had meekly agreed and added in a softer tone that you had left some homemade treats in the little kitchenette for him and the rest of the crew. He had instantly felt bad, here he was (rightfully) repriming you like a five year old when all you wanted to do was give your thanks and give the underappreciated firefighters something good to lighten up their day. He didn’t get the chance to apologize when the firefighter who had brought you in gently guided you back out. Miguel had to stop himself from snapping at his second in command when he had passed by with a pat on the shoulder and a little ‘ try be a little nice to the public, yeah?’

He had gotten that chance the next week, when you had come over during lunch time. He had been in his office, looking up from his paperwork when hurried steps ran down the hall. He had been curious, thinking he might have missed an alarm. He had followed the excited recruits, finding himself in the kitchenette where you had stood at the table. You stood with a wide smile, making quick conversation as you dished out plates of lasagna. It was still steaming, and plate after plate found its way into your hands to be served some Italian heaven. Miguel’s stomach rumbled at the mouth watering aroma, hesitantly grabbing his own plate and following the lineup. When he had reached you, your smile dimmed a bit before returning. You had shyly filled his plate, earning a small thanks from him before he went to find a spot to enjoy his food. 

He had finally gotten his chance to apologize as you were beginning to pack up, stacking your now empty trays on top of each other and trying to not let them drop as you made your way to your car. Miguel was quick to follow after you, grabbing some of the trays for you and helping you place them in the trunk of your car. He had apologized for his behavior quietly under his breath, adding a thanks for the treats this week and last week. The smile you had given him made his heart skip slightly, standing there as your car drove away. 

From then on, it became routine. Every week you would come with something new to feed the large firefighters, befriending the city heroes with home cooked meals and sweets. Everytime Miguel heard the rush of footsteps outside his dorm or office, his head would perk up and he found himself discarding whatever he was doing to go to the kitchen. On lazy days after you finished serving out the food, Miguel would sit with you at the table. He would let you drone on about your day or a book you were reading as he filled out paperwork. Even with the work in front of him, he paid every ounce of attention towards you. He would pause when writing, looking up at you to watch the ways your eyes shined or you added emphasis to your words with your hands. He would ask small questions just to prove he was listening, and you would give him an animated response. 

His favorite visit by far was sometime during winter. You had come with jugs of hot chocolate, serving it out to everyone who looked at you like you were Santa Claus. Miguel watched from afar, liking to be the last to be served so he had you all to himself afterwards. You had a gentle smile on your face, asking the recruits how many marshmallows they wanted and if they wanted some peppermint. He was completely enamored by you, the other firemen taking notice of how he was already around the kitchen around the usual time you came each week. 

When he finally came up to you, you had given him a bright smile and served him his drink. The warmth that spread in his chest from the smooth liquid made him sigh out satisfied. He had stood with you, making quiet conversation as you finished loading the heavy jugs. As you were about to leave, you suddenly perked up. You excitedly go to the passenger seat of your car, a small bounce in your steps as you hide something behind your back.

“Close your eyes Migs.”

He instantly followed your soft command, his body sparking when your soft hands grabbed his own. Something soft and delicate is placed into his open palm and he closes his fist around it when you let go. He slowly opens his eyes, thumb rubbing against the soft knitting. His heart practically sings when he sees the scarf in his hold. It's the same color as his under uniform, the fire department logo stitched into one end. He gives it a soft squeeze before thanking you, wrapping his arms around your small frame. 

The rest of the day he had a bright aura around him, not even minding the teasing banter the recruits gave him as he slipped the scarf around his neck as they all prepared to go home. 

He simply turned to them with a small smile, shrugging off their chuckles with a: “You’re all just jealous that you don’t have a pretty thing making things for you.”

Last request before the 1K Prompts!