#firefighter!sid

[ehghtyseven]

sid and his fireman kink pop up again [x] [x] [x]

[holy-puckslibrary]

just a lil firefighter!sid fluff for y'all :)

gif from @ehghtysevenarchive + per this ask and others

Surely, the chief of Canada's oldest fire department has more important things to do on a crisp morning, the last one preceding a fresh week, than this. He most definitely does. And, yes, Chief Crosby is known for his pragmatic approach to, well, everything.

But neither carries weight here—not when she calls.

Leaky faucet, dead car battery, unreachable spider... It doesn't matter. One ring, and he's rushing home. He can't pin-point when the pattern began, likely sometime shortly between the day you moved into town and his first off-day, but it's a routine he's come to enjoy despite the extra strain on both his schedule and his body; Sidney never thought sharing a property line could be so tedious or time-consuming.

He knows he shouldn't enjoy the distraction as much as he does. You aren't together, Sidney doesn't ever allow his imagination wander that far, but he can't help it. He can't help but help. He rarely turns down anyone in need, which has done wonders for his reputation within the community, but with you... With you, it's different, and embarrassingly so.

He doesn't have the words to explain it. Not that he needs to, it's written plainly across his face.

There's a reason you're regular fixtures in the town's gossip column.

When he arrives on scene—not ten minutes after his F-Series crawled down the gravel drive—Sidney shakes his head and laughs. Collecting his cell and his radio, he slips out of the truck, watching as you fret like a mother hen.

Still in your slippers, you're stood at the base of a decently-sized red spruce wedged between his yard and yours, your crumpled face angled up into the yellow-green needles. You're the very picture of worry, wringing your trembling hands and muttering to yourself.

A stray kitten caught in a tree, that's what's got you in a such a state.

"Well, this is a new one," he bellows in lieu of a greeting, slamming the door shut as his boots hit the ground.

Briefly, your glassy eyes dart in his direction. You're midway through your customary apology when he arrives at your side and quiets you, just as he always does.

"They're more than capable of holding down the fort for however long it takes to rescue our new friend, okay?"

"I know, but what if—"

"But nothing," Sidney huffs, and he dares to take you by the shoulders. And, externally, he ignores the way you shiver under his palms. "If I didn't think it was safe for me to step out for a couple of minutes, I wouldn't. You believe me, right?"

You nod, bottom lip pinched between your teeth.

"Good. Now, how 'bout you keep an ear on this," Sidney sets the clunky satellite radio in your hand, "—and I'll grab the ladder from the shed?"

He doesn't really need your help monitoring the channel, but he knows you'll feel better if you feel like you're doing something. Like him, you find comfort in your utility.

In less than a minute, Sidney re-emerges, rounding the corner with a ladder in hand. You're in the same spot, now fidgeting with the radio, anxiously dumping it from one palm to the other and back again. He follows your gaze to line up the simple equipment necessary for the rescue operation.

Sidney's heart swells as you quietly step forward to spot him.

Lucky for everyone, the ball of orange fur is on the branch nearest to the ground. Sidney needs only to step up onto the first wrung to safetly coax the frightened creature into his waiting hands, he's back on the ground not long after.

He gives the kitten a gentle parting scratch under the chin, then transfers the purring fluff to you. The soft bundle takes to you immediately, nuzzling into your chest like that's where it wanted to be all along.

"I think he likes you," Sidney observes with a cheek-numbing grin.

Your lips are tipped up at the end and there's fan of happiness rooting itself around your eyes. Your mouth opens to reply, but before the words come—

"Well, would you look at this?"

Across the quiet street and a few houses to the left sits an audience of two. Both of which are now cooing as loudly as two ladies in their sixties can manage. Coffee cups in one hand and their cellphones propped up in the other, they fawn over the two of you as if it's live theater.

Sidney curses their sons, who he'd completed the explorer program with as teens, for enabling this technological torture.

"Smile, you two! Oh, Denise is just going to eat this up," one of them, a spitfire in a 4'11 frame by the name of Mrs. Bouchard, exclaims to her co-conspirator, Ms. Johnston.

Then, to no one's surprise and Sid's chagrin, they giddily type out their respective messages to the local paper's equally-nosy editor-in-chief.

"Looks like we're front-page news again," you hum bashfully.

The tabby mewls in your arms. You curl into the little bundle of fur, lips landing between its delicate ears.

Sid studies you in his periphery as he slips in and out of heady contemplation, ultimately deciding he doesn't mind as much as he once did. "That we are..."

—

eek! wait, why do i luv them already 🥹

as always, i would really appreciate if you reblogged my work, left a comment or dropped by my inbox w some feedback :) fandom runs on engagement, and so do writers!! thx a mil in advance!

READ MORE OF THEM HERE!

[holy-puckslibrary]

sid to a furry friend's rescue!

florist!reader gets flustered during sid's calendar shoot

oh, nothing... just them playing house doing a mentorship day and stirring up the rumor mill... another tuesday!

gif from @ehghtyseven

Sidney remains cautious around the local amateur matchmaker, adopting a level of vigilance, one not unlike that of the state he experienced while on duty, whenever she and her cohort openly collude on his behalf. Unfortunately for him—and anyone else audacious enough to be single in their vicinity, their movements are as unpredictable as they are assured to occur.

He could be milling around the market down the block from the station, or waiting for his order at the hole-in-the-wall café beside your shop—even his mailbox was fair game. Blissfully alone one minute, and the next? He's center stage as Halifax's Most Eligible Bachelor, unwittingly sifting through a rolodex of eager contestants, many of whom present in name only.

Their community wasn't remarkable small, but it was quiet. So, Sid could understand the appeal. The residents, many of whom were nearing retirement or already had been for several years, had little else to fuss over. It wasn't uncommon for a single person to become a central topic of conversation at the bingo table or the church pew. Everyone got their turn.

But, of the community's ever-dwindling pool, Sidney Crosby is most definitely the favorite, with you not far behind.

When you arrived, Sid breathed a sigh of relief. Fresh meat meant that, at least a little while, the heat would be off his back. He could go about his business without a peanut gallery or having to stand trial over the state of his (non-existent) romantic life.

It felt somewhat callous to hope for someone else's life to be probed and scrutinized the way his has been, but his reprieve was long overdue. And it wasn't as though he intended for you to fend for yourself. He knew firsthand how relentless Madame Matchmaker—as she liked to be called—could be, and therefore, he could be a vital resource and a nice shoulder to lean on.

You were receptive to his aid and grateful for his kindness, and while Sidney anticipated this alliance of sorts would be largely one-way, he was pleasantly surprised to realize a positive, unintended consequence—a deterrence to meddling. With you by his side, Sidney was approached significantly less.

You both were.

And you knew why. It wasn't hard to connect the dots; appearing together effectively marked you as "off-limits," and, therefore, not worth their time or help.

However, it soon became clear the rouse worked a little too well. And, unwilling to fabricate a half-truth or outright lie, the horde of Cupids found reason to descend with renewed fervor. This time, with a fresh initiative: to bring their fantastical assumptions to fruition.

Today's doings were further fodder, and the pile of pooped toddlers curled between you being the chief culprits.

For nearly eight hours, you looked and behaved like a stereotypical nuclear family out for field trip. The day began with a breakfast spread seated at your breakfast nook and a leisurely stroll through the neighborhood. Then, a trip to your shop for a light lesson in floriculture and an introduction to bouquet arrangement, before the four of you made your way to the station for an edu-chat on fire prevention and safety. And, of course, a gear try-on and (assisted) turns with the fire hose. (Sidney wishes he would've snuck a photo of you donning his helmet.)

As the sun slipped closer to the horizon, you crumpled onto a bench framing the park in the center of town.

Managing two children together for Mentor Day seemed less daunting than going it alone, and it had been—but at what cost?

The hushed giggles just within earshot are measure enough.

"We're never going to hear the end of this, are we?"

Sidney hides his splitting grin behind his hand, all too aware of the typical spectators not two yards from where you're sat. It was best to find amusement in their meddling whenever possible.

"Definitely not," he concurs.

You lapse into comfortable silence, as you usually do around this hour on one of your back porches. The fading sun paints the town square in a buttery golden light soon after. Neither of you can resist stealing glances, open and lingering, too eager to watch the color dance across the other's face to worry about public perception and speculation.

Tired eyes tracking over your face, Sidney hums, "Today was a good day."

He watches you nod in agreement, a dreamy little smile pulling at your mouth. Behind the children's heads, your warm fingers tangle in his. His heart thuds when your hand gently squeezes his three times.

"Yeah, it was."

—

someone let me give him kids! now!

as always, i would really appreciate if you reblogged my work, left a comment or dropped by my inbox w some feedback :) fandom runs on engagement, and so do writers!! thx a mil in advance!

READ MORE OF THEM HERE!

[holy-puckslibrary]

sid to a furry friend's rescue!

florist!reader gets flustered during sid's calendar shoot

parents mentors for the day

chief crosby's got a date... and its not with florist!reader

... was in a bit of a silly goofy mood, forgive me (and be sure to read the endnotes!)

gif from @littlemessyjessi

This is the last thing Sidney Crosby imagined he'd come home to: another man settled in his chair.

His cat is curled in the intruder's lap, and said intruder's hand is curled over your knee. And Sidney's soup—homemade and hand-delivered—split in bowls between you.

"Thought you didn't need a babysitter?"

Sidney watches the gleeful expression wilt on your pretty face—color drained like his bank account succeeding the egregious bid he matched to make bail—with equal measures of self-satisfaction and self-contempt.

"I-I didn't, I just—"

"Settle down, Chief," the ranger laughs. "I knew our little lady here was feeling under the weather, so I thought I'd stop by after my patrol shift and keep her company while you were indisposed."

Sidney glares into the bright cerulean eyes of one Anthony Beauvillier, a park ranger in the Atlantic Coast Uplands region.

If memory serves, he was recently transferred from Waverley to Blue Mountain but resides in Peggy's Cove. This is a 50-minute detour.

In the opposite direction.

The Fire Chief's jaw is painfully tight, his blood scalding. If it were't for his, albeit dwindling, sense of self preservation, Sidney would've marched up those two steps—recently refurbished at his hand, might he add—to forcefully remove the park narc's grubby paw from your body.

Mercifully—for all involved parties, you do so shortly and of your own volition before joining Sid in your driveway.

Guilt smeared over your sickly features, your mouth parts, an explanation hot on your tongue, but all that comes is a grizzly cough that stings Sid's chest just hearing it. Despite his vexation, he's patient with you; he owes it to you both to wait it out. He hopes this is just one big misunderstanding somehow.

But, before you're able, the absolute last person Sidney wants to hear from pipes up.

"Resting, ma biche. You're meant to be resting," Tito attempts to coax you back onto the porch—back to his side—with an outstretched, up-turned hand.

(my doe / my darling — reminder: see end for important notes!)

Not as quick with his French as he'd like to be, he growls at the perceived insult. However, rather than running his fist through the opposition's teeth in your honor, Sidney defiles it.

The park ranger, and everyone else who happens to be out and about tonight, are treated to an unexpected eyeful of their Fire Chief's innermost feelings rushing to the surface. They pour into your mouth with reckless abandon, unconcerned with his public image or the utter lack of privacy; this kiss could be broadcast on the Nightly News for all he cares.

All that matters to Sidney Crosby is making his intentions known, and crystal fucking clear. Staking his claim is just a bonus.

"Well, it looks like my work here is done."

At your dazed expression and Sid's bewilderment, Tito stands from the rocking chair with a genuine smile fixed on his face. As he deposits evergreen Stetson atop his wind-swept hair, he pauses.

"Y'all have a nice night," he winks with a tip of the brim, bidding you farewell before slipping into his government-issued Ram.

As gravel crunches under the vehicle's wheels, gears click into place behind Sidney's burnt umber eyes, now gleaming with clarity.

"Nate and Emmy." — Statement, not a question.

"Please, don't be angry. They just wanted to help because... because I didn't believe that... y'know." You gesture to the sliver of space that still separates you, a bashful little smile pushing up your feverish cheeks.

He couldn't find it in himself to be ticked off about your best friends' not-so-harebrained scheme—which, honestly, deserved more credit than he would ever be willing to give it—if he wanted to. Not while standing so close he can smell the PEI tulips you've been elbow-deep in all month, and definitely not having tasted the whisper of herbal tea lingering on your tongue.

Smirking, he closes the gap with a gentle tug.

"Oh, I know." Voice dropping to a thick hush, his lips hovering a lick above your skin, "D'you believe it now?"

The pinkish skin crinkles around his warm eyes as you pretend to think.

"I could do with a little more... convincing," you ultimately quip. "But, only if you're up for the t—"

The remainder of your cajoling is overtaken by a fit of giggles as he corrals you up and across the porch. The front door slams shut with a satisfying air of finality. Though, not before little Ember slips in with you.

Chief Crosby was thorough by nature, and he'd be damned if he didn't dedicate the evening to dispelling any and all doubts threatening to take root. Feigned, or not.

—

gotcha! teehee 😋 sid really said sick germs?? no match for my LOVE!!! ALSO! tito anon, this ones for you bbyyyyy 💓💓💓💓

***** 'ma biche' was chosen because its typically humorous and rarely intended seriously, + can be considered majorly outdated (even by 60s sitcom standards)—and its not always romantic! ... it also sounds a lot like an english insult, hence sid's reaction lol (at least, according to my french-canadian grandmother who remains very confused by my random call for a french lesson on infrequently used terms of endearment lol) *****

as always, i would really appreciate if you reblogged my work, left a comment or dropped by my inbox w some feedback :) fandom runs on engagement, and so do writers!! thx a mil in advance!

[holy-puckslibrary]

thank you for the love on the first lil nibble :,) makes me so happy to see y'all loving them + this new verse as much as i do!! i hope you enjoy this charity calendar shoot scene...

gif from @hunterrrs

Sid and yourself are in silent agreement—Emerson did this on purpose.

But any nerves he might've had after unexpectedly running into you at the station melted watching you become a flustered mess when his turnout jacket parted to reveal bare skin and toned muscle.

Pride bloomed recklessly in his chest realizing you couldn't keep eye contact for more than a few seconds. And, that you avoided his torso entirely. He grinned harder than he had in years watching you invent tasks to busy your hands with—to distract your wandering mind.

"Remind me again; what exactly do floral arrangements have to do with fighting fires?" Sidney hears you hiss at your best friend twenty minutes into the session.

He stifles a laugh while as he holds the pose he was given.

Emerson, the town's best (and only) professional photographer, only chuckles. The sound of smug satisfaction slips between shudder clicks.

"Not a damn thing..."

You pin her with an unamused grimace, your arms folded tautly over your grass-stained overalls. The adorably pinched expression reminds him a lot of the furry friend he plucked out of that tree not too long ago.

She sighs, rolling her eyes. "I thought it'd be a nice way to jazz up the background a bit. Maybe give some variety to the calendar, y'know? There's only so much I can do with a red brick wall."

You scoff in disbelief, but keep any further gripes to yourself.

Lowering the camera, she drops her voice to a half-assed conspiratorial whisper, "—and I wanted to give you an opportunity to finally see him shirtless. You're welcome, by the way."

"Because I needed your help the first time," you bite back thoughtlessly.

You petulantly kick at nothing before freezing, eyes blown wide. Stunned into silence by your unplanned candor, you can barely sputter out fragments... which only serve to strengthen the initial innuendo.

Sidney's thunderous laughter nearly drowns out the unfortunate sound of Emerson's R6 crashing to the floor.

—

ahhhh this is verse so !! and sugary!! makes my teeth ache (in the best way)

as always, i would really appreciate if you reblogged my work, left a comment or dropped by my inbox w some feedback :) fandom runs on engagement, and so do writers!! thx a mil in advance!

READ MORE OF THEM HERE <3

[holy-puckslibrary]

sid to a furry friend's rescue!

florist!reader gets flustered during sid's calendar shoot

parents mentors for the day

someone's going on a date with chief crosby... and it ain't our girl </3

gif from @matbaerzal

To Sidney, this sham is nothing more than a meat-market legitimized. His fierce, formidable crew, flaunted and auctioned off in the name of "charity," as upstanding members of the local community brazenly gawk and drink themselves into a courageous stupor.

Gathered in packs around the local watering hole on a Friday night, the only things missing are high-res Animal Planet cameras and the calm wonder of Sir David Attenborough. It's only a matter of time before they start throwing themselves at each other like elk during mating season.

It's a shame Sidney won't be around to see it.

"Don't even think about it, Chief."

Sidney slumps; he spoke too soon.

Now, he's caught between cracked-door freedom and the firm grip of his Assistant Fire Chief. Kneading at the annoyance budding between his brows, Sidney turns on his heel to face his childhood best friend.

"C'mon, really? This is a circus, Nate. I shouldn't—Is this really something I should be doing? Y'know, it's not exactly... becoming of a civil servant."

"I'm doing it," Nate shrugs. "You don't see me pitching a fit."

The Chief glares. "Yeah, because you already know who you're going home with."

"Not true; tonight's could be the night Emmy decides to act on her grade school crush," the blonde jokes, his chin tipped across the gymnasium. "And who'd blame her? Flower's lookin' better than usual tonight."

"Nate."

The younger of the two only laughs in response to the dramatic groan of his name.

"No, I get it. You're acting pissy because your flower's stuck at home with a stomach bug, and, subsequently, you've been condemned to the terrible fate of having Cole Harbour's hottest fight tooth and nail for a date with you—oh, the horror! Truly, I feel for you, Saint Crosby."

"Bandwagon much?" he grumbles.

As Nate's grin widens, Sid's frown deepens.

Blue eyes twinkling with satisfaction, Nate teases, "You didn't deny it this time."

"D-Deny, what?"

Nate rolls his eyes; Sid's refusal to acknowledge anything, let alone something so obvious to anyone with eyes, was starting to get old, and fast.

"Yeah, sure, okay. Play dumb if it makes you feel better. But I'd figure my shit out sooner rather than later if I were you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sidney blinks.

"Oh, nothing... Just that you aren't the only civil servant sniffing around Blossom & Bloom these days."

With a parting wink, Nate vanishes into the crowd, leaving Sidney to stew in a fresh pot of bubbling unease.

—

and the plot thickens... hehehe 😈

as always, i would really appreciate if you reblogged my work, left a comment or dropped by my inbox w some feedback :) fandom runs on engagement, and so do writers!! thx a mil in advance!

DIRECT CONTINUATION HERE!

[holy-puckslibrary]

✿ main series

#1 — furry friends & feelings #2 — flustered florist & a photoshoot #3 — matchmaking & mentorship #4 — civil servants & a circus #5 — sick & scheming

✿ asks + moodboards

— memorial day wnkd (ask)

✿ music + more — coming soon!

✿ tag(s) — #kindled verse (general tag) | #kindled!sidney, #kindled!sid | #firefighter!sid, #firefighter!sidney crosby | #in conversation: kindled (all asks) | #kindled concepts (submitted scenarios and prompts, teasers, alternate timelines, etc)

my inbox (@holy-pucks) | main masterlist

[theminiummark]

2. Sid/Ovi “Please tell me that you didn’t get on the subway like that.”

Sid’s head snapped up from where it had fallen forward to rest on his chest. He was grimy, sooty, and disgusting, but above all, bone weary exhausted.

He shook his head roughly, blinking his eyes rapidly, trying to force himself to stay awake for two more stops. He had already missed his own the first time around. His normal commute on the blue line usually only took twenty minutes, but today he had managed to stretch it into forty-five. The swaying and momentum of the train did nothing to help him stay awake.

All he wanted was a shower, maybe some food, and his bed. And maybe if his boyfriend was available, some snuggles. God, he was tired. Coming off a forty-eight hour shift at the firehouse was brutal. It would have been okay if they had a chance to rest, but it had been a very busy forty-eight hours. Two car accidents, a warehouse fire, and an old lady stuck in her garage. The last car accident had been a massive pileup on the interstate. He hadn’t taken the time to shower, just stowed his uniform, changed into his street clothes, and headed home as soon as he was physically capable.

He was awake enough to hear the call for his stop this time, and he dazedly shuffled off the train and meandered as well as he was able to his apartment that he shared with his boyfriend, Alex. He walked into the building, staring forlornly at the two flights of stairs ahead of him. Maybe he could just lay down here for a while...try again later, when he had more sleep?

Just as he was dizzily calculating sleeping on the floor versus taking the stairs, he heard old Mr. Robertson’s door slam closed. It was the loudest one in the building. It was like he was warning everyone that he was coming, as an encounter with him always made Sid feel like he was eight again and had broken the neighbor's window with a baseball. Not having the energy to face such an encounter, Sid found the motivation to scale the stairs to his door. Fumbling it open, Sid let out the biggest sigh of relief.

He felt even better when a shaggy head of dirty blond hair and a big grin peaked around the doorway of the kitchen. Sid felt a sleepy, dopey smile cover his own face in response, even as he swayed in place.

“Hey, lover!” Alex said, bounding over to him, helping him take of his shoes and hanging up Sid’s jacket. “You hungry?”

He punctuated his question with a lingering kiss, which had Sid leaning into, making Alex shimmy a little to keep his balance. He gripped Sid’s hips to keep him upright as Sid’s head fell to Alex’s shoulder, where he snuggled in, eyes closing.

“Holy shit, Sid, you smell like a bonfire. Let’s get you in the shower.”

Sid hummed and allowed himself to be guided into the bathroom. Alex deposited him in the middle of the room, telling him he would find Sid some new clothes and ordering him to get in the shower. Slowly, trying to stay awake and on his feet, Sid stripped and got into the tub, staring blankly at the taps, suddenly overwhelmed at what he needed to do next.

He was brought out of his haze when Alex gave a snort of amusement when he came in with a bundle of clean clothes.

“Please tell me you didn’t get on the subway like that?” Alex asked with glee. “How many times did you have to double back this time, hmm?”

Sid just blinked at him.

Alex huffed, his teasing gaze turning soft and affectionate. He started stripping, stepping into the tub behind Sid, and turned the water on. Sid sighed, closing his eyes and tipped his back to rest on Alex’s shoulder. His arms went around Sid’s chest, pulling him in tight. Alex kissed him in the soft part under his ear near his jaw.

“Okay, babe, let’s get you cleaned up.”

PROMPT ME  - I am taking them through Wednesday!