johnny storm (fantastic four: first steps) x female!reader oneshot
cw: besides being described as female and wearing a skirt, no descriptions of reader were given (i know images are white reader, but it is so hard to find diverse pics for an aesthetic, i tried), female!reader, implied smut (i mean, it's really implied), reader has chapped lips (like me!), i think that's all (but let me know if i forgot to add anything)
Winters in New York City were always a problem to everyone. Sometimes it would be too dark before 4 PM. Or such a challenge to take the grocery bags with the thick gloves. Or move around the town with the subways, skytrains, buses and taxis. And the always-too-cold weather, of course.
But none of those things bothered you more than your chapped lips as soon as the temperatures dropped below the 70s. Like clockwork, no matter how much water you’ve had in your body for the past hours, it would always look like you’ve spent the last one hundred days in the middle of the desert.
Obligatory, you always had a chapstick at your desk, a lipgloss in your purse, and a water bottle in hand. It was a habit that stuck early on, and never went away. Still, nothing could delay your lips’ nature from showing.
Some found it cute, some would pass you more water and tell you to look for a doctor. Too used to all of those reactions, you’d always thank them and move on. You wished you could fix your chapped lips — but they always came back.
It took Johnny a few weeks before he noticed why you’re always reapplying your translucent gloss or taking small sips of water at any given moment. It was like watching his brain click, and then he was asking if you needed anything else.
“Hm, no, I’m ok.”
“You sure you’re not sick?”
“I’m sure, Johnny. I’m just putting in the work to avoid chapped lips before winter hits us.”
“Uh-oh. I thought it was a seduction tactic," he joked.
After that, it wasn’t strange to find lipgloss from your favorite brand at Johnny’s bedside and or a chapstick in his bathroom vanity or hidden in his coats’ pockets. He even tried to leave one in his suit, but the compounds were altered as soon as he caught on fire — which earned an instant “Don’t!” from Reed.
You swear you’ve heard him asking Sue about the difference between the very fancy hydration lipgloss every magazine carried an ad for, and the ones from the drugstore — it was cute, like sparkling pink lipgloss. He already made sure to stock up on your go-to one, you didn’t need him spoiling you more than necessary.
On a cold January night, you and Johnny were admiring the city from the Baxter Tower balcony after a family dinner. He reached for the lipgloss in the pocket of his pants and you noticed it wasn’t the same as usual.
“Bought this one by accident,” he explained. It was from the same brand, but a different shade, which wasn’t a problem for you, “and if you don’t like it, I’ll just throw it away.”
“Oh, no, it’s ok, I like this one too,” you opened the small bottle and applied it to your lips, carefully. “It’s been a minute since I wore it.”
“Can I try it?”
His question caught you off guard, and as you moved the lip wand to gather some product, he stepped closer and pressed his lips against yours. His hands wavered through your body, resting around your waist as he pulled you in.
The white spirals filled the space once he broke the kiss.
“I still prefer the other one,” he announced, his thumb gently holding you by your chin.
“Really? You weren’t kissing me as much when I had it on,” you pouted and baited your eyes. “I thought you were growing bored of me.”
“Of you? Never.” He kissed you again, proving his point. “But I think this one,” he took the lipgloss from your hand, taking a good look at it, “needs more experimentation.”
“Since when you’ve become a lipgloss specialist, Johnny Storm?”
“Since I started dating you, babydoll.” Another kiss was pressed to your lips. “I’m gonna get you a haul of lip products, we’re gonna catalogue and experiment all of them.”
“And what parameters do you have in mind?”
“I was thinking of color, flavour, texture and durability. And a secret one.”
“Which is…” You leaned in.
“How much I like tasting it from your lips.” As he dipped for one more kiss, you pushed him back by his chest, a playful smile touching your eyes. “What?”
“Should we take this to the lab?” you teased him, taking a step back to go inside the house.
“The lab can’t take my type of experiment, doll.”
As you turned to question him what he meant, Johnny grabbed you by your middle and threw you over his shoulder, one hand around your knees, another over your ass, holding your skirt's hem in place.
“Johnny!” You slapped his back muscles, and he held you firmer as you tried to slip away.
“Don’t make this harder on me,” his words were low and threatening.
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll ruin more than just your lipstick.”
His threat sent shivers down your spine, and his firm steps into the stairs announced your destiny. As you crossed paths with H.E.R.B.I.E., the robot said something your ears didn’t catch, but earned a smirk and a “We’re busy, Herbert.”
A few more steps, a door closed, and Johnny said, “Let me get to work.”
a/n: i was bored, suffering from chapped lips myself, when my spotify played "chapstick" by COIN and i ended up writing something funny just because i wanted to. thanks @live-love-be-unique and @munsonsreputation for the help and support!
Hey! I wrote a quick el desperado/master wato oneshot today. Rated M with various mentions of sexual acts, though there are none in the story. Please check tags & I hope you enjoy!
the tortured firefighters department • evan "buck" buckley
series summary: Each year, 240 million calls are made to the 9-1-1 in the United States. For the Los Angeles County Fire Department, it averages 1,200 calls a day. You could do the math and lay down all the probabilities of crossing the country all the way to the sunny — and full of catastrophes — L.A. for a PhD and ending up in a new 9-1-1 call center. But you could never solve the Buckley problem in front of you.
this is a evan "buck" buckley x fem!reader series
warnings: fem!reader, afab!reader, no specific details about reader appearance are given (lmk if i let something slip), slight divergence from the 9-1-1 tv show timeline (hey, it's a fanfic, i can do whatever i want), mentions of violence, mentions of disasters, mentions of medical conditions, mental issues themes. more specific warnings will be provided at each chapter.
chapters
chapter one — devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes
chapter two — we play dumb but we know exactly what we’re doing
chapter three — these days I'm restless, work days are endless
chapter four — thought of calling you, but you won't pick up
chapter five — when my depression works the graveyard shift
chapter six — it always ends up with a town car speeding
chapter seven — don’t you dare look out the window, darling, everything’s on fire
chapter eight — cat and mouse for a month or two or three
this fic is currently archived/on a hiatus
blurbs
blurb — you’ve been calling my bluff on all my usual tricks (takes place between the events of chapter two and three)
blurb (requested) — touch me and you'll never be alone (you need to read chapter six to understand it)
special content:
spotify playlist by the lovely @live-love-be-unique HERE
series note: i have planned out a timeline for the series, which means we are getting a lot of development for them (so reading chapters with a number is required if you wanna understand the series). BUT i'm also open to take suggestions of what you wanna see (maybe it's a scene, maybe you saw this prompt and think it matches the TTFD vibes), so please don't be shy and send me your ideas and suggestions via askbox or dms.
author's note: hi guys! first of all, english is not my first language and, even though i'm a writer in my mother language, i still struggle to put ideas on paper in english. so bear with me and my mistakes, ok? new obsession, new fic, ofc. wanted to explore a reader that is not just a dispatcher, but also have some things inspired by my own hobbies and struggles.
EXTRA! EXTRA! In times where traditional news are struggling to keep readers engaged and interested, The Miramar News was privileged enough to have a brilliant team writing and publishing some of the most read news on the East Coast. Too bad that the life inside the glass walls of the Editorial Department was nothing less than chaotic and full of the most challenging minds. Meet them now!
hi guys! this is my new project. i've been writing it offline, creating a backlog big enough to start posting soon, and i've made some cute instagram profiles for them! shout out to @se7entyrell for helping and encoraging me! let me know what you guys think! (omg no x reader tags? what's effie up to? 🤭)
Y/N Trace — Assistant Editor
A bachelor’s degree in English from University of California — Berkeley, stand out jobs and coverage on the West Coast, moving all the way to Boston to get a Masters in Emerging Media Studies, landing right at the entrance of The Miramar Times as Assistant Editor in her mid twenties. And that’s just the middle of her journey to the highest step in a newspaper. Reunited with her half-sister Natasha Trace, her new position promises to be anything but calm.
Natasha Trace — Photographer
Every frame was a story under the NYU trained eyes of Natasha Trace. After graduating and acting as documentary photojournalist around the globe, she lured her younger sister to work as Assistant Editor for the Miramar Times. She is responsible for a few art exhibitions on the side, highlighting experiences that don’t always show up on the news.
Robert Floyd — Senior Copy Editor
He is quiet, but very precise with his words and punctuation marks. Bachelor’s in English — with credits in both Literature and Linguistics — and with a Masters in Creative Writing, Bob Floyd was appreciated by his journalist peers. Well, unless some of them weren’t a fan of making information clear — which was his personal nightmare.
Mickey Garcia — Sports Journalist
He is a Miami raised kid, and a sports enthusiast all year long. NFL, NBA, MBL, NHL, MLS, Formula 1, Nascar — you name it, he was in loco or in front of the screen and statistics to report back to the Miramar News readers. When needed, helps his long friend, Reuben, with a few investigations here and there — you know, he doesn’t get to break some sports news just sitting on his chair and waiting for the press releases to arrive.
Javy Machado — Economics Journalist
Inspired by too many rewatches of The Wolf of Wall Street and reads of The Great Gatsby, Javy decided to bring his passion for economy to the journal. Besides reporting all the market crashes and commercial crisis — because the end of the times would always grab some extra clicks —, he works closely with Jake Seresin to create the economics podcast for the Miramar News.
Jake Seresin — Social Media Manager
Good thing Jake was the master of all things Social Media. With a degree in Communications, and stellar and viral moments over the years, he picked a more stable and not very draining spot as Social Media Manager — and part time podcast producer — at the Miramar News rather than a full time producer position in one of those creative content driven companies.
The wildcard inside the Miramar News journalist roaster, Reuben wasn’t afraid to spend hours digging and researching to discuss crimes, corruption, or any public matter that had his adrenaline spiking and pen moving. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize with his article piece on the systemic racism inside the U.S Navy got him some traction and opportunities to cover anything his heart desires.
Bradley Bradshaw — Politics Journalist
UVA Political Sciences bachelor, with a Masters in International Politics. Some might say he landed his job just because his godfather, Pete Mitchell, called in some favors, but his record track is consistent with a groundbreaking Politics journalist. His biggest flaw is he is a pain in the arse — just because you deal with politicians doesn’t mean you get to act like one.
MEET MORE CHARACTERS:
Bernie “Hondo” Coleman — Managing Editor
Usually editors are not appreciated by their teams, but Hondo — a longtime friend and collaborator of Maverick — found the balance to keep the engines moving while also cultivating a creative and respectful space.
Pete “Maverick” Mitchell — Editor-In-Chief
One of the most promising, and yet controversial, journalists of the 1980 and 1990s, Pete earned his nickname Maverick from his time as an intern back in New York. From the Big Apple to the Hollywood Hills, to the US borders and across the ocean many times, he finally settled in an office, with an overview of Boston. The Miramar News wasn’t his first choice, but once Hondo gave him the pitch, he was in.
Beau Simpson — Publisher
Responsible for overseeing all the stages of the paper, Simpson is always in his office, away from the chaotic energy of the news floor. He is not a fan of Mitchell’s work as Editor-In-Chief, but as long as the articles and pieces keep being published, he won’t try to kick the editor from the twentieth floor.
Penny Benjamin — The Pub Owner
Penny was never made for the headlines or the lines in the paper. She loved the stories, though. So that’s why, after trying different jobs and locations during her younger years, she ended up as the owner of The Hard Deck, a pub in Beacon Hill, for almost 10 years now. Her audience varies, but there is always a group of journalists by the billiard tables or the bar. And a certain Editor-In-Chief helping with the beers from time to time.
Tom Kazansky — Culture Columnist and Illustrator
Some could say he is a retired columnist, but when some would despise taking a step back from the desk to focus on other matters, Tom found out the Culture and the Arts were more important than the headlines. While he almost never leaves his house in the suburbs of Boston, he makes sure to send his texts and illustrations just in time.
a small snippet from the miramar news (working title), my newspaper!au with the top gun maverick crew. you can check their insta profiles here.
“Trace, what’s good?” He pulled the empty chair by your side and took a seat.
“Had my application for a place denied twice this week,” you said, scrolling through the very limited listing of places you were interested in. The crease between your eyebrows was growing noticeable every day.
“The nice one close to the docks?”
“No, that was the first one. Just lost the one close to the park,” you opened the tab, still mourning the awesome location and rental. Why have you been so unlucky?
“Damn it, kid,” he took a look at it. “But hey, your lunch isn’t responsible for the bad luck streak.”
“I fucked up with the dates and instead of having four more weeks to come up with a plan, I have ten days.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I’ve spent the weekend putting stuff into boxes so I can just throw them into the U-Haul as soon as I sign in.” You placed your salad bowl on the table and turned your chair to face your friend.
“Remind me what are your requirements please.”
“At this point, all I want is a bed, some storage space, a clean bathroom and for it to have an elevator, but this is negotiable.”
“I know a place, but you might hate it because of one detail.”
“I don’t wanna have roommates,” you reminded him of the biggest deal breaker at the moment.
You tried, really did. Visited a few places and tried to find a nice roommate, but the lack of organization or even something that triggered you were huge deal breakers. That’s why you were checking every single ad in hopes to get a place for yourself.
“Even if your roommate ends up being a chill journalist that is clean, has a vacant room and really doesn’t mind if you’re on a bad day?”
“Who are you talking about? Because I definitely can’t live with some people from this office,” you took a look around and pointed your fork, wondering who probably had a vacant room and was willing to share rent and chores.
“I’m talking about me.”
shout out to @se7entyrell for listening to me yapping about this idea.
The Miramar News was founded in the 1950s, during the biggest changes in the city's recent history. Since then, its goal was always to keep readers up to date on local and international matters, from culture to politics and economics, using the talent and expertise of veteran and younger journalists.
The team of the now respected newspaper is led by Pete Mitchell, also known as Maverick. He keeps his team sharp and on their toes, granting readers will be on the edge of their seats. And that’s what brought the younger Trace to the position of Assistant Editor months ago.
This collection will follow the daily operations of The Miramar News team — and give us a peak at their lives when they are not typing them away.
MEET THE TEAM
TABLE OF CONTENTS:
MAIN TIMELINE — YOU’LL SEE ME IN THE NEWS:
Chapter 1 — I’ll put your name on the headlines
Chapter 2 — Editorial meetings and endless lists
Chapter 3 — On Fridays, we hit the Hard Deck
SIDE TIMELINE 1 — SWEET LIKE HONEY (Javy Machado):
Cookie jar — A place to crash and sleep
Banana pancakes — What life has become
SIDE TIMELINE 2 — OFF TO THE RACES (Mickey Garcia):
TO BE ANNOUNCED…
>>> CONTENT WARNINGS WILL BE PROVIDED AT THE BEGINNING OF EACH CHAPTER. THIS IS A FEMALE!READER FIC, AND READER DETAILS ARE KEPT TO A MININUM SO EVERYONE CAN FEEL INCLUDED.
HOW TO READ THE MIRAMAR NEWS:
I’m performing something bold and lowkey exciting. When I first brainstormed this alternative universe with Viv, I wanted to explore more than one option without getting messy with dynamics. But then I was “I don’t wanna have to create more than one reader because that’s gonna be really tiring”, which led me to the CYOA (Choose your own adventure) meets AU dynamics.
This Top Gun: Maverick!AU collection looks like a series, but instead of having 3 different main characters, I have one reader and 3 different timelines. The main timeline presents general dynamics and events that are pertinent and present in both side timelines. It doesn’t mean the side ones are irrelevant: they are more focused on developing romantic relationships with Top Gun characters that don’t get much love — Javy and Mickey! (Yes, I’ve been obsessed with those two, and I’ve been cooking this for a while now).
I’ll still drop a few hints and tropes on the main timeline, but each one will have its own pace and events. Since the side timelines are more romance focused, they will likely happen faster than on the main timeline — so bear with me!
“Effie, I still don’t get it!” Ok, let me put this on bullet points:
>>> if something happens in the main timeline, this can be brought up on any side timeline, but (!) things mentioned in the side timelines don’t carry to the main timeline.
Ex1. Reader mentions she is moving and needs a new place on the main, this is available as a plot piece on the sides. To “affect” a side timeline, it has to be brought up or mentioned by the narrator or characters. If they don’t mention it, it fails to exist on that timeline.
Ex2. Reader has a date with someone from the team in a side timeline, it doesn’t carry to the main one — i.e. won’t be brought up or affect the main events.
another snippet because... THE MIRAMAR NEWS COMES OUT THIS WEEKEND! STAY TUNNED!
“Next time, try to read it out loud without running out of breath, Bradshaw. The one time I proofread your text, I couldn’t remember what you were discussing at the beginning because the periods and paragraphs were way too long, and way too boring,” you interjected, making yourself known.
He finally noticed you sitting down there. Bob had many years of pissed off writers, and was unbothered and back to his work in no time. He didn’t need you to defend his job, but you, as a future Editor-In-Chief, saw an opportunity to put a spoiled journalist back in his place.
“Are you done?”
“Not your job, Trace.”
“Actually,” you took your cup to your lips, taking a sip while facing him, “I’ll be overseeing your publications for the next six months. So now it is my job.”
He turned around and ignored you, like he has been doing since you started working there.
devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes • ttfd
chapter one of the tortured firefighters department
masterlist | next chapter
cw: fem!reader, afab!reader, description of clothes, mentions of food, mentions of alcohol, proofread by my bye-lingual ass (let me know if i forgot anything)
You knocked on the white door again, not sure why you feel nervous about all of this. It’s just a small get-together at one of your coworker’s houses. For sure it’s better than spending another night in the library, writing your thesis, but it kinda makes you nervous.
So this is what life looks like when away from the screens that raised you?
From the East Coast all the way to LA to get your PhD, the city of angels was no more than a stranger on the window. Before moving, you had worked on the 9-1-1 call center for your region because the shift’s schedule could actually fit your undergrad and master’s schedule — also the money was enough to survive, and you could check your notes on slow shifts. But once after a massive power outage, your superior thought your desk was too small for your brain.
Not that you were a bad dispatcher — your responses and action times were above average, actually —, but he’d seen how you managed the data influx, pinning all the accidents, teams on call and reported issues on the white board and shouting directions for quicker routes and delay problems. After that, you’d spend more time helping fixing turnaround times and implementing some sort of algorithm and protocols for when the next disaster hits. At some point, they transferred you to Florida during the hurricane season because of your reputation — that spread like a wildfire, believe you or not.
You lasted enough to finish your master’s degree and hop on a plane to LA, for your PhD in dynamical systems theory. You had a job offer, leaving your 9-1-1 days behind for some small desk and endless boring demands. It didn’t last much, though, because, after eight months, it made you miss the adrenaline rush and large income of data from the 9-1-1.
That’s how you ended up at the Los Angeles 9-1-1 call center in Metro, always happy to jump on some calls and help other dispatchers with logistics and patterns. Nobody warned you about tsunamis or earthquakes, but you knew you could manage them just like a pro — if they ever happened again, which was a matter of time.
“Hey! I was starting to think you would bail on me!” Maddie opened the door, the genuine happiness glow irradiating and making her smile almost unbearable. “Please, come in.”
“Got caught up in traffic. Who knew the logistics mastermind would be stuck in a casual traffic jam?” You gave her the flowers you bought and held the brownie pan with both hands. “Hope I’m not too late.”
“Oh no, you arrived just in time! Here, let me take care of this,” she took the pan from your hands and motioned to the living room. “Make yourself at home. And thanks for the flowers!”
“Our last guest, finally!” Howard, aka Chim, Maddie’s boyfriend, left his place on the counter to greet you. “It’s nice to finally put a face to the voice!”
“Hope I didn’t disappoint you.” You hugged him, your extroverted persona finally happy to be in a room with real people, and not just some endless phone calls and work talk. “Sorry I’m late.”
“That’s ok, those guys are too busy with their games to notice we are a little behind schedule. But Jee is getting hangry” He pointed to the couch, where three adults, one child and one baby were too busy with the TV screen to notice your arrival.
“I guess the kid’s table is full tonight.”
“Hey, we’ve heard that!” One of them screamed from the couch, not bothering to look in your direction. He raised his arm, the tattoos across his skin showing against his white skin, in protest.
“Nice crowd.” You followed Maddie into the kitchen, Chim’s voice in the background saying it was the last race.
“I’m so glad you’re here. Water, juice or some alcohol?” She offered while reaching for the glasses. “Oh, Chim made some Margaritas.”
“I’d love one of those, thank you.” You fixed your green dress, somehow feeling overdressed. Not exactly your fault, when Maddie invited you for dinner, you visualized all the scenarios in your mind. Afraid of looking lazy, you went for a flowy green dress and a batch of brownies, to show some appreciation.
Between Margarita sips and after work gossip — because, nowadays, your work schedules mostly were off sync —, you helped Maddie setting the table and dishes. And, as expected, one race became four, with Chim playing the commentator. Maddie took the chance to show you the houses they were applying for, making good use of Jee’s quiet bedroom to talk.
“Are the others not good enough or just too expensive?” She had been talking about house scouting for weeks, and even helped you find a new place while doing so.
“You’d be impressed to see the final price of those houses once you track all the problems.” She played with her hair. “How’ve you been doing?”
“My thesis is starting to follow me like an unwanted ghost, and work has been— no, not gonna jinx it. Moving has been a pain in the ass, but thanks for telling me about that loft. The rent is actually acceptable and the view is amazing!”
“Glad it worked for you! And don’t thank me, actually it was—”
“Hey, Mads, we’re just waiting for you two.” The tall blue eyed guy stood in the hallway and gave the door a weak tap. Oh, tattoo guy, you noticed. “Chim is destroying the dumplings Albert made and Jee is not happy with being left out of the girls reunion. You better hurry up.”
“We are right behind you, Buck.” She said, bringing you with her to the dining table.
After some quick introductions — Albert, Chim’s half-brother; Eddie and his son Christopher, and Buck, Maddie’s little brother —, you indulged in some dumplings and pork ramen. Albert was experimenting with Korean cuisine, talking about opening a restaurant and finally having enough money to move out to his own place.
“Well, I think you should do it. I’d be happy to order this every day,” you said, pointing your chopsticks to the almost empty bowl.
“Thanks– sorry, what is your name again?”
“Everyone just call me Brains.” The nickname stuck since your first major catastrophe at the call center job — and maybe a little because of your bachelor.
“Wait, I think I’ve met you before.” Eddie announced and looked at Chris. “You went to his school a few weeks ago to talk about pursuing math in college, right?”
“I did a small presentation, yeah. My professor asked me for a favor since his kids are students there, but he had a full schedule. I had a nice time with the kiddos.”
“She is super smart!” Chris shared, in his own words, a little about your presentation. Talking to the younger ones about advanced math proved to be a challenge, but once you showed them all the cool things math made possible, you had their attention.
“Why are you working on the 9-1-1 instead of, I don’t know, teaching in college?” Buck inquired, beer in hand.
“Would you believe me if I said I have an adrenaline addiction and I can’t stay away from trouble?” You pressed your lips together and shook your head.
“Oh, he would, because he was addicted to—”
Maddie slapped Chimney on the arm. “Hey, there’s two kids in the room.”
And all eyes were on Chris, who was too busy with his noodles to notice, and Jee, playing with her bites of veggies. You laughed, leaving your empty cup on the table, and reaching for the last dumpling.
“I guess we are all addicted to something,” you stared at Buck's blue eyes and took a bite. “Maybe once I get my PhD, I’ll go full professor and find some adrenaline on handing out really hard exams. But the chances are very low.”
“You should try being part of LAFD, you might like it,” Albert suggested.
“I can barely carry my boxes upstairs, being that physical isn’t for me.” The admission made you shyly smile, because you were definitely hinting that firefighters were strong. “Math, on the other hand…”
“Please, don’t give her any more ideas! Since Brains started working with us, the dispatching process changed for the better.” Maddie brought her hands together and begged in a joking tone.
A few Margaritas and some dessert later, you were helping Maddie with the dishes while Albert played with Christopher, and Buck was holding Jee so she wouldn’t throw a tantrum. Chim asked Eddie to help with a few construction questions, feeling like he was missing some important topics while house scouting.
“I think I’m done for the night,” you told her as you closed the cabinet door. “Thanks for the invite, Maddie. You were right, I needed a break.”
“I know when I see someone on the verge of burnout.” You looked at her, the tequila making the simple action of laughing much more easier. “Let me know when you’re settled at your new place so I can get you a housewarming gift.”
“Oh please, don’t bother, Maddie. I’m sure you’re too busy with Jee and moving matters.”
“Sure you don’t want some ramen for tomorrow? Albert may be a good cook, but he has no idea of the measurements.”
“You’re sick of the smell, right?”
“A little.” She smirked.
“I guess I won’t have to worry about lunch tomorrow.”
“Yeah, gonna finish moving to my new place tomorrow.” Maddie left the blue tupperware in front of you. “Thanks, I’ll bring it to you next wednesday.”
“Can I get more brownies?”
“Anything for my favorite dispatcher.” You looked around, opting for a quick goodbye. “It was nice to meet y’all. Again, thanks for the invite, Maddie.”
“Nice to meet you too, Brains,” Buck said, getting closer. “Hope to speak to you soon, dispatcher Brains.”
“I hope we don’t, firefighter Buckley.” You teased him. “Have a good night, guys.”
You left Maddie’s place, drove to your new place, opened the door for an empty apartment, stored the ramen in the fridge, climbed up the stairs and fell face first into your bed, shoes and all.
If you didn’t know Maddie, you’d say she had second intentions with that dinner.
author's note: hi guys! chapters will be short because it helps me keep the momentum with the writing (and keep the impostor's syndrome away from my efforts). also yeah i'm using TTFD as an acronym bc i choose a whole ass long title for the fic. huge shout out to my love my bestie my soulmate @munsonsreputation for always supporting me (love you kaaaay). also hi casey welcome to the 9-1-1 fandom, thank you for the endless edits on tiktok haha. i guess i see y'all next week...
