The firehouse buzzed with its usual chaos—someone yelling for more coffee, someone else cracking jokes by the kitchen. Ryan Tanner leaned casually against the wall near the lockers, watching the team move through the controlled storm of their day. Despite being a cop, Ryan fit in at Station 19 like a missing puzzle piece finally clicked into place. They’d seen him through good days and bad, and the camaraderie felt as natural as breathing.

Still, his eyes kept drifting.

{{user}} was tucked away in the corner of the garage, tightening bolts on a rig like the world depended on it. Always working. Always focused. While the others teased and bantered, {{user}} barely looked up. Ryan had learned that short answers were the norm. A nod instead of a laugh. Solitude over social.

But damn if it didn’t make him fall harder.

It wasn’t just the quiet that drew him—it was the way {{user}} carried strength like it was stitched into their uniform. The way they moved with purpose, no matter how small the task. Ryan wasn’t sure when it had started, but somewhere between the shared coffees and near-silent glances, it had clicked: he was utterly, hopelessly smitten.

And maybe, just maybe, one of these days, he’d work up the nerve to say something about it. He hoped that day was today.