Fire Captain!Steve Rogers x Firefighter!Fem!Reader
Prompt: “If anyone walks in, that’s on you.” for the January Jumble Scribbles Challenge
Warnings: strictly 18+, smut, oral (fem receiving), exhibitionism, slight power imbalance because he’s the captain, coworkers with benefits (but with feelings, cause it’s me and I can’t help myself)
Word count: 350
A/N: banners by @vase-of-lilies
January Jumble Scribbles Masterlist
Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Library | AO3
Being alone with Steve Rogers is dangerous.
Especially when he’s striding back into the firehouse still sweaty from your most recent rescue, suspenders falling loose around his thick thighs and the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to showcase his veiny forearms.
The showers are the next logical place for those of you who are not checking in equipment or washing down the truck, so with a rush of bravery that probably is the tail end of your adrenaline high, you grab your captain’s hand with a delighted smirk and pull him into the closest showers before anyone can see.
His lips crash down on yours the instant your back hits the tiled wall. This isn’t the first time you’ve snuck a moment together in the busy firehouse, and you’re sure it won’t be the last.
“I need you.” It feels like you’re stating the obvious with how quickly you do away with his uniform, but you so love the way your coworker with benefits grins, biting his lower lip when you say it.
“If anyone walks in, that’s on you.” Steve warns as he kisses down your body, taking your uniform with him.
His lips are gentle against the soft skin of your inner thighs, and the care as he lifts your leg over his shoulder, making sure you’re steady, as he starts devouring you in the most filthy way imaginable, makes you momentarily delusionally believe this could ever be more than work friends taking care of each other's needs during long shifts.
“Maybe I want them to walk in on us and see the captain on his knees for me, show them who’s really in charge around here.” You tease, your voice quivering as his soft lips suck on your clit, your hips taking on a life of their own and grinding down against his agonisingly gorgeous face.
The way he grabs your hips, and practically growls into your core, tells you he is going to make quick work of you.
And you’re not complaining. You’re playing with fire being intimate in a public setting, but you’ll take the risk if it means stealing a moment, and an orgasm, with your captain.
$ log - steve rogers is the neighbourhood sweetheart and one helluva firefighter: steady, unshakeable, easy smiles. then you moved in next door and ruined him entirely. totally by accident, not on purpose at all.
$ warn --sfw --fluff --gn!reader --firefighter!steve --flustered!steve
$ wc -w 1k
$ cd masterlist / steve-rogers
Steve has lived in this neighbourhood long enough that the street essentially claimed him. He just shows up. We’re talking block barbecues, school fundraisers, even Mrs. Okafor's ongoing battle with her garden drainage.
He doesn't really announce it, he just comes along and brings food, rolls his sleeves up if there's work, and stays until it's done. Soon, people noticed and they started expecting it. Then they started planning around him, which would embarrass him terribly if anyone said so out loud, so by unspoken agreement, nobody does.
The elderly women treat him like a shared custody arrangement:
Mrs. Kowalski flags him every other Tuesday for her bins. It’s unnecessary, but she wraps up pierogis while he waits, which he eats on the walk back looking faintly guilty about how good they are.
Lakshmi flags him for lightbulbs.
Eileen flags him for the same lightbulbs but makes better biscuits and she knows it.
He receives all of this with complete sincerity, which is exactly why it keeps happening.
He once spent forty minutes helping Mrs. Patel repot a succulent. He retains everything she told him. He wouldn't understand why that's funny.
At the station he's easy — steady, doesn't grandstand. Steve makes the new guys feel like asking questions is normal.
Off the clock he's the farmer's market on Saturdays, the coffee place where his order's started before he's through the door, the kind of person who makes a two-minute interaction feel like it counts for something. Faintly infuriating, but most people like him anyway.
He knows the neighbourhood the way you know something you've paid close attention to for years. Routes, rhythms, which houses flood, who's always up at five.
He'd noticed you the way he noticed most things — just accurately. Lights on late, fast in the mornings, always somewhere to be, a particular way of getting there. He filed it away the way he filed most things about you. Politely and appropriately. It was all locked behind a door he had absolutely no intention of opening.
The call comes in for a cat: ginger tom, third incident this week, known attitude problem, no self-preservation instinct. Steve takes it because the woman who called is seventy-three and genuinely distressed. That's the full extent of his decision-making process.
Biscuit has wedged himself into the oak tree between numbers 14 and 16 with the conviction of an animal who got up here on purpose and is reconsidering nothing.
Steve climbs up after him, talking low and steady the way he does with animals and people mid-panic. Though Biscuit is visibly not soothed and keeps shifting another six inches out of reach every time Steve gets close.
"Come on, buddy." He calmly says, his frame patiently coming up. "Nobody wants to be up here."
Biscuit disagrees, audibly.
Steve shifts his weight, reaches a little further. Unprompted, his eyes go sideways without his permission. The window at number 16 is right there. Open with the curtains pulled all the way back, and you're—
You're just—
Standing at the dresser in something his brain registers first as very small and second as lace. Then stops registering things in any useful sequence because all available processing has rerouted somewhere completely unhelpful and perhaps southwards.
He freezes.
Not subtly, nor a polite glance-and-away. Instead, Steve completely freezes — one hand on the ladder, one hand halfway to a cat that no longer exists to him, eyes fixed on the window. He harnessed the expression of a man who has walked into a wall he didn't see coming and hasn't quite caught up with gravity yet.
You move through your room unhurried and unbothered, like you're entirely alone.
Steve swallows.
You reach for something on the dresser — he's not cataloguing what, his brain isn't — and shift your weight in a way that is probably just moving but lands somewhere in his chest like a minor seismic event.
A sound escapes him; it was small and almost involuntary. The sound of a man who has looked directly at the sun and has absolutely no one to blame but himself.
A tiny, helpless whimper. Biscuit's ears swivel.
Biscuit, who has resisted every professional extraction technique Steve has attempted for the past forty minutes, takes personal offence to the noise and responds the only way he knows how.
First scratch catches Steve across the jaw before he even sees it coming. He winces, but his eyes still stay on the window.
Second scratch, same cheek, harder. He blinks, while his grip tightens on the ladder.
Third one. That one lands, and Steve finally — finally — drags his gaze off you like it physically costs him something. Three thin lines of pink were already rising on his jaw. He looks at the cat.
Biscuit stares back, all ancient and terrible. Steve holds eye contact with the cat for a long moment.
Then, slowly, helplessly, he turns back toward the window. Just once more, one last look, like a man who needs to confirm he really did see what he thinks he saw.
You're looking right at him, barely embarrassed.
Just — looking, with a small smile at the corner of your mouth that says you've known he was there for quite some time and have been enjoying yourself thoroughly.
Steve's ears go scarlet, almost the shade of his bright uniform..
He faces forward and gulps while squaring his shoulders. Steve seemed a man bracing for something that requires genuine courage, which right now is simply moving his body down a ladder. He gets both hands around Biscuit with the neat practiced economy, tucks him firmly under one arm, and descends.
The elderly woman at the bottom is overjoyed. She notices the scratches and makes a soft horrified noise.
"Oh, Steven — your face —"
"I'm fine, ma'am," Steve says, on complete autopilot. He does not look up at the window for any final glances. But, he ultimately lasts about four seconds.
Pairing: Firefighter!Steve Rogers x Single Mom!Reader
Word Count: 1609
Summary: A firefighter comes to your rescue when you find your son stuck in a tree while playing a game of hide-and-seek.
Warnings: None
A/N: This was written for Steve Rogers Bingo Round 4 as part of a bingo fill featuring a Firefighter AU. With this prompt, I managed to create and have been slowly expanding my Station #107 AU.
Steve Rogers Masterlist | Character Masterlist
"CJ?"
No answer.
"CJ, this isn't funny anymore. Answer me," you shouted as your gaze scanned frantically the park for any signs of your wayward son. Your voice dropped to a whisper as you added, "Please."
The morning had been so promising, too. A rare day off for the two of you to spend together. It'd been a no-brainer to head to the park near your apartment. Plus, it had the added safety of the nearby firehouse. No one dared to mess with this park because of the firefighters who used it for their daily running routes.
Raking the park another time, you finally spotted a tree you'd ignored before. It was technically beyond the bounds you'd previously laid out for your son. Being such a good kid, you didn't often have to worry about him disobeying you.
Yet, something about the tree beckoned you.
Maybe it had something to do with the fact that it appeared like the perfect challenge for climbing lovers. The lower branches had some height on them, but a little ingenuity wouldn't keep the most determined climbers away. This included your son.
"CJ?" You called out as you neared the tree.
The dense branches made it hard to make out anyone lurking behind the bright green leaves.
Harder but not impossible.
Bright red sneakers flashed between said leaves as your son's voice finally squeaked out, "Mama, help! We're stuck."
You couldn't recall the last time your feet carried you so fast to one destination.
A gasp left you when you finally spied your wayward son sitting on a branch near the middle of the tall tree. His little hands clasped as tightly as they could to the trunk. If you squinted, you could make out the broken branch not far from him. No doubt how it'd given even under his lighter weight.
"Don't move, baby. I'll get you down," you hollered up to him, your voice dropping low to add, "somehow."
As if summoned by your distress, a trio of firefighters who'd been running the park's perimeter slowed their pace. The blonde one at the front was the first to speak as he asked, "Need some help, ma'am?"
You nodded and pointed towards your son's position in the tree.
His gaze followed your finger as did his friends'.
It took only a moment for all their eyes to widen before they seemed to regain their professionalism.
"You doing okay up there, bud?" the blonde one called out.
CJ nodded.
"Would it be alright if I joined you?"
CJ shook his head frantically. "No, don't. You're too big."
The blonde glanced down at himself and let loose a soft huff of laughter. His eyes sparkled as they met yours for a moment before returning to your son. "You know you're probably right. How about my friend, Buck, here gets a ladder? Think I could join you then?"
"Yeah, okay," CJ gulped. "Could he hurry? We're getting tired."
That was the second time he'd mentioned a 'we', and you still had no clue why.
At least, you didn't until you heard the softest, most pitiful little mew echo from somewhere near your son. A little head poked itself out of his jacket pocket.
"Sorry, mama. I heard him while we were playing hide-and-seek. I only wanted to help him."
"It's okay, baby," you assured him.
As much as you wanted to be mad at him for frightening you, you knew how much your son loved animals. He's always wanted a kitten or a puppy to call his own despite your apartment having a strict no-animal policy. It hasn't stopped him from making his wish so clear every night when he wished upon the North Star. A tradition CJ's father started when CJ had been little more than a preschooler.
The next few minutes passed in a relative blur as the one referred to as Buck dashed back to the fire station across the street to retrieve a ladder. Their other friend went with him, promising to bring back some safety equipment, which didn't exactly make you feel any better about the situation. Both returned soon enough and got everything set up.
The blonde patted your shoulder before he made the climb up the tree. His quick feet soon had him at the same level as your son. The two even spoke quietly for another moment or two before they made their rapid but safe descent.
You didn't feel like those minutes were real until you wrapped your arms around your son. Your hold remained tight as you turned back to the firefighters.
"Thank you. Thank you. Thank you," you repeated as if on a loop.
The blonde grinned. "It's not a problem, ma'am. Just glad we could help out."
Unable to bear being called ma'am one more time, you offered up your name and another heartfelt thanks for all the work the trio did for you and your son.
"Mama, do you think we could keep him?" CJ asked as he pulled the kitten from his pocket. The matted fur had seen better days, but you could almost swear this kitten would be a beautiful gray once it had a proper bath. No doubt its fur would be fluffy and so soft under anyone's touch.
Hating yourself, you could only shake your head. "I'm so sorry, sweetie, but we can't. You know we can't. Not right now anyway. Maybe once we find a new place, but that's not going to be for a little bit."
"What if we keep it a secret? I'm real good at secrets."
"I know you are, baby, but it's just not possible."
Large tears filled your stubborn son's eyes though he hastily swiped at them. Big boys didn't cry, or at least, that's what he'd been told by his father often enough.
"We can't take him to one of those awful shelters, mama. What if no one adopts him? What if no one wants him?"
You didn't know how to answer him, even as your heart broke all over again.
The hole your ex-husband had left in your son would forever be one of the things you'd never forgive him for leaving. The man might've started out as a good father to your little boy, but he'd utterly failed him the day you two could no longer make things work. The same day he'd chosen his new family over his old one with you and CJ.
"Hey, bud, would it be alright if I took him?" the blonde asked, dropping into a squat next to your son. His blue eyes met yours briefly before turning his full attention to your son. "I've been real lonely lately, and I've been thinking about getting a kitten just like this one."
"Do you know how to take care of cats?"
The blonde shook his head. "No, but Buck over there does. He knows all about taking care of them, and I'm sure he'd be willing to teach me if you'll trust me to take this one. I promise you he'll have a good home with me."
CJ spared a glance at the brunette standing nearby. His tiny brows pinched together as he seemed to contemplate this very important decision.
"If it helps, I'll even bring the little guy with me on my shifts at the firehouse. You can check up on him from time to time there to make sure I'm doing it right. As long as your mama is okay with that, that is?"
"Can I see a picture of your cat?" CJ asked the brunette.
The man called Buck pulled out his cell phone and tapped a few times at his screen. Once he was satisfied, he moved closer so he could hold out his phone to your son. The mass of white fur took up the majority of the screen with a pair of bright blue eyes standing out in the middle.
"She's a real handful, my Alpine, but she's a good girl. Has good taste and good judgment, too," Buck offered softly. "She even likes this punk right here, so you know your little friend there will be in good hands. Alpine knows a phony when she sees one. She's at the station right now if you'd like to see for yourself."
"Mama?" A hopefulness entered CJ's expression as he met your gaze.
Knowing you could do this at least for him, you offered him a soft smile and a nod. "Yeah, okay. Let's go meet Alpine and get her approval, hmm?"
CJ didn't need further encouragement as he fell into step at Buck's side with their other friend, who quickly introduced himself as Sam, walked beside them.
The blonde slowed his pace until he walked alongside you.
"I'm Steve, by the way," the blonde finally said, shooting you a shy smile. "I hope I'm not overstepping or anything by offering to take the kitten. I just, I really, um, your son is a great kid, and it hurt to see him so disappointed."
"You barely know him," you couldn't help pointing out.
Steve nodded. "That's true, but I was a lot like him growing up. I was, uh, I was raised by a single mother. My father … He wasn't a good man. He left us when I wasn't much older than CJ, but I can tell he's going to be okay."
That had you slowing your steps further. Your words came out little more than a whisper as you asked, "How do you know that?"
The sweet, charming smile he shot you had your heart skipping a beat while butterflies fluttered in your middle.
After Clint retires from his work at SHIELD, he takes up training working dogs on his farm. His favorite group to work with is the New York Fire Department, training their search and rescue dogs. He won't lie and say it wasn't largely to do with the charming Captain Rogers.
For the:
✦ Fandom-Free-Bingo Build-a-Bingo: Generic Prompts - Firefighter AU [AUs]
Word Count: N/a - Moodboard
Title: The Fire Captain and the Dog Trainer
Rating: Gen
Universe: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Pairings: Clint Barton/Steve Rogers
Characters: Steve Rogers, Clint Barton
Warnings: None
Major Tags: Modern AU, No Powers AU, Firefighters AU, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Dogs, Dog Trainer Clint Barton, Firefighter Steve Rogers
~
Summery: After Clint retires from his work at SHIELD, he takes up training working dogs on his farm. His favorite group to work with is the New York Fire Department, training their search and rescue dogs. He won't lie and say it wasn't largely to do with the charming Captain Rogers.
I can finally share with you all my submission for @stevetonyzine - now public on Ao3! This was a wonderful project and a great group of folks to work with. If you supported the zine thank you! If you’re interested in getting one for yourself and didn’t make it to the first kickstarter, there will be a leftover sale starting 6/16!
summary: Mr. Stark invites the local firehouse crew to spend the afternoon with his class. He really wasn't expecting the Captain to be as handsome and charming as he turned out to be.
fandom: Marvel - Iron Man, Captain America
rating: Gen
tags: Teacher!Tony Stark, Firefighter!Steve Rogers, Getting Together, AU: No Powers, Fluff, Humor, Tony Stark Has a Heart
You don’t think you’d ever say it out loud but your Alpha is truly adorable. He, once again doesn’t sleep on the plane and you do. When you get to the hotel you’re driven on a little golf cart to your private bungalow that sits over the water. You get into the bungalow the whole place is so pretty and you’re so excited but when you look over at Steve you can see the exhaustion behind the joy in his eyes.
“Do you want to go out for dinner?” He asks, always putting you and your needs above his.
“No, I’m sick of other people and I want a shower. Can we just do room service?”
“Are you sure?” You nod and he passes you the room service menu.
“What do you want Alpha?”
“I don’t care. I’m gonna shower while you order okay?”
“Can I join you after I order?”
“You don’t even have to ask.” He flirts and you laugh before he kisses you softly then heads to the bathroom. You order three meals, you’re not sure what Steve will want and one of the pasta dishes sounded amazing but so did the pizza and so did the club sandwich. So obviously you’d had to order all three.
When you join Steve in the shower he looks like he’s about to fall over.
“Alpha? Will you let me take care of you please?”
“M fine.” He mumbles forcing his eyes open.
“Your job is to protect me, mine is to take care of you. Please Alpha.” You plead and when his tired eyes meet your worried ones he nods slowly. You get him to sit on the stone bench on the far side of the massive shower then get to work on shampooing his hair. When that rinses out you condition his hair and then wash his body with the soap being sure to work the tension out of his tight muscles. You rinse out the conditioner and then it’s your turn, you shampoo quickly while he watches with tired eyes.
“Omega come here.” He rumbles and you give him a small smile.
“Let me get the shampoo out and conditioner in okay?” He hums lowly while you do exactly that. Then you move to him and he holds a hand out,
“Soap.”
“Steve, tonight is about you.”
“But,” you kiss him softly, his eyes take longer to open than they usually do when you pull away from him. Your poor tired Alpha. You soap quickly then rinse out your hair and turn off the water before grabbing the towels that are hung on the warming rack. You wrap one around yourself before you wrap the other around Steve’s waist.
“Robes?” You ask and he nods, it looks like he might not make it to dinner.
You’re sitting cuddled up with him on the couch when there’s a knock at the door and Steve is instantly ready for action. He’s the most alert you’ve seen him since the airport.
“Room service!”
“One second!” You call back before gently untangling yourself from Steve. “I’m gonna get that Alpha.”
“I can.”
“I’m supposed to be taking care of you.” You soothe on your way to the door. You pull open the door and a teenaged Beta pushes a cart into the room. There’s a bottle of unopened champagne in a bucket of ice with two glasses on the cart too.
“I didn’t order champagne.”
“Compliments of the resort ma’am. Congratulations on your marriage and thank you for choosing our resort for your honeymoon.”
“Oh, thank you.”
“Is there anything else I can get you?”
“No, thank you.” He gives you a little nod then leaves the room, you follow him to the door then put in the door jam that you’d brought into the door so it can’t be opened. You bring the cart over to where Steve is sitting on the couch.
“How much food did you order?”
“Three entrees.” You tell him sheepishly and he laughs. “It was nice of the resort to give us champagne.”
“A good bottle too.”
“How do you know that?” You ask him surprised, you’ve never seen him drink champagne before the wedding.
“Tony. He’s kind of an alcohol snob and made sure that I was well versed. When I was younger I thought about going into politics but it was too much. Tony wanted to make sure that I didn’t make an ass of myself with the upper crusts.”
“But your family had money?”
“I didn’t know that until my Ma died.”
“Really?”
“Yea, I’m grateful for it too.”
“She and your father raised a wonderful man.” You tell him and he kisses your cheek softly. “We should eat.”
“We should.” He agrees uncovering the pizza. “What all do we have here?”
“Some sort of cheesy pasta thing, pizza and a club sandwich.”
“All excellent choices.” He says pulling a slice of pizza off of the pan.
You watch as he falls back into that sleepy state as you eat. It’s like once he has a clean body and a full stomach he’s ready to crash again. You leave the club sandwich in the mini fridge for breakfast and the bottle of champagne goes unopened for the night. You put the tray outside your bungalow then lock the door with your jam again before joining Steve in bed.
“Alright Alpha let’s get some sleep.”
“Yea.” He says as you curl into him, even with his eyes practically closed he’s able to find you lips. You spend more time kissing him than you thought you would but soon enough he’s fighting to stay away so you press one more soft kiss to his lips and whisper,
“Sleep Alpha. We’re both safe, the only place I’ll go is the bathroom. Sleep.” He blinks two, long slow blinks at you before giving you a warm little smile and finally surrendering to sleep.
You watch him for a few minutes, his chest rising and falling, his dark lashes on his cheeks, his lips parting slightly in his sleep. He’s such a handsome man, you can’t believe no other Alpha, Beta or Omega snapped him up before you found him. He really was so perfect for you. You snuggle into him then, your eyes closing as you too surrender to sleep.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Summary: On the day Tony Stark meets Steve Rogers, Tony is standing on the sidewalk engaged in a shouting match with his soon-to-be ex-boyfriend on the balcony, all his belongings raining down on him or lying broken on the pavement.
Written for the @lightsonparkave Anniversary; based on a prompt from Round 8.
