Theodorereaken - Teddy

the rainfall series masterlist

bradley bradshaw x reader;

two weeks in an all-inclusive resort in bali; what could go wrong? a phone call and a plane back to fightertown, that’s what. who knew that so much could change because of one mission.

series warnings;

swearing, canon typical injury, parent loss/grief, mental health issues (read the warnings at the beginning of each chapter for more depth) disclaimer: i know nothing about planes/the navy so this may not be real life accurate.

playlists;

listen while reading for an extra level of immersion , i also just love making playlists ok , playlist is available only on spotify <3

bradley ( i watched top gun now i’m in love with bradley “rooster” bradshaw )

jake ( jake seresin is just a hookup but god he’s pretty )

part one

you’d always had a thing for your best friend. this mission didn’t help.

part two

you and bradley should’ve been in bali right now; but no, you were ten thousand feet in the air, sweating your ass off.

part three

a girl, the boy she loves, and another girl walk into a bar. wait - where’s the joke?

part four

this was the mission someone wasn’t coming back from; you were sure of it. you just hoped to god it wasn’t the man you loved.

part five

coming soon

part six

coming soon

1K notes View Post

theodorereaken

2 years ago

mystic force prequel season abt leanbow's team in the magical realm. like. you agree.

74 notes View Post

theodorereaken

3 years ago

POLY!MCCALL PACK

Part One

Part Two: They Get Jealous

Part Three : Planning

HeadCannons

296 notes View Post

theodorereaken

2 years ago

Two’s Company, Four’s a Crowd // Robert “Bob” Floyd

Based off of: the Hot Writer Summer Challenge hosted by @mermaidxatxheart

TW: drinking, reference to sex

Prompt: “It never stops hurting, does it?” “What?” “Giving someone the best of you and watching them choose someone else.”

Addtl. information: background Hangster, background unrequited!Rooster x Reader, background unrequited!Floydsin; your callsign is Mercury

Two’s Company, Four’s A Crowd // Robert “Bob” Floyd

TOP GUN MASTERLIST // ROBERT “BOB” FLOYD MASTERLIST // BRADLEY “ROOSTER” BRADSHAW MASTERLIST

It’s been a month since the newly-minted Dagger Squadron has been back from the leave following the debriefing, the group of fifteen—fourteen if you don’t count Maverick—having been permanently assigned out of North Island NAS following the mission completion. It’s near the end of the day, and the group has been dismissed, each heading back to their dorms—nicer than last time, as they’re all single-person. You decide to get some cleaning done while the others shower, knowing that you’d rather wait until they’ve cleared out and not have to deal with fighting for the next spot in line.

You put some music on as you work, humming along. You had had some friends in your room for a movie night last night, and hadn’t really had a chance to clean up after they left until now. Needless to say, it’s a mess. You forgot how slobby your friends can be.

As you deal with the trash and food and various other objects left behind, you find a jacket that you instantly recognize as Rooster’s, passed down from his dad via Maverick back when Bradley was taking care of his mom. Checking the time, you sigh; it’s too late now, you’ll give it back to him tomorrow morning.

And so, the next day, in regulation makeup and bun, you head over to Bradley’s room, aviator jacket in hand. You raise your hand to knock just as the door opens, and you’re met with a barely-awake Jake Seresin.

“Merc,” he greets, unfazed at your presence.

“Sup,” you respond lamely, glancing away awkwardly. You’re tense, unsure of how best to react to this… development.

“Roose, you got company,” the Texan calls back into the dorm.

Rooster appears suddenly, hair mussed and shirtless. You keep your eyes decidedly straight ahead, taking every ounce of self control not to glance down. “Uh, here,” you tell him, thrusting your hand forward. “You left this last night.”

“Thanks.” He takes it, rubbing the back of his neck as you stand there, flushed and tense.

“I’ll, uh,” you finger gun awkwardly. “Let you guys get back to whatever you were doing. Uh, I’ve got concealer in shades that should fit each of you, if you want. Don’t ask why, I have like every skin shade concealer ever. But, uh, yeah.”

“Thanks,” Jake responds with a wink. “We probably need it.”

“Right.” You jut your thumb behind you, beginning to back away. “I’ll, uh, I’ll just go now.” Swiftly, you turn, making sure you’re in the comfort of your room before you allow yourself to break down.

You see, you’ve been in love with Bradley Bradshaw for years. It began when you were just starting out, assigned to the same squadron as him. You had a friendly rivalry for a little while that soon turned into a genuine close friendship. Then, he got called to Top Gun, where he met Hangman and Phoenix. You had already had a crush on him for a little while; had come out to each other as bi; had had a crush for long enough that you knew it surpassed the usual definition. You weren’t an idiot; he loves you platonically, not romantically. Still, you’re quite accomplished at hiding your feelings, continuing to be the best friend, secretly pining. Intellectually, you know he isn’t interested. And yet you naïvely held out hope.

Now, you’re facing the consequences of doing so; the results of your optimism. Jake and Bradley are together—as anyone could have seen coming—and you’re in the best friend zone. Where you’ll stay. You were Bradley’s therapist when he ‘hated’ Hangman; his confidant when he began to come to terms with how much he loved liked the fellow pilot; and you’re sure you’ll be there for the rest of it.

Fuck.

A knock on your door breaks you from your misery. You quickly take measures to make sure you don’t look like you’ve just been crying before opening it to reveal Hangman.

“Hey, what’s up?”

He rubs his neck awkwardly. “Were you, uh, serious about the concealer?”

“Yeah, of course.” You open the door wider, letting him in, before digging through your makeup container. You quickly find a few shades that you think might work, having him hold his arm out for you to test them. Once you’ve figured it out, you pass him the container and applicator, assuming he’ll show himself out.

He doesn’t.

He just stands there awkwardly, watching you clean up. Finally, you’re fed up with it. “Need something else?”

“Just, uh… you won’t tell anybody about, uh, me and Bradley, right?”

You pause and meet his eyes, winking. “Tell them what?”

Jake smirks cockily, eyes showing how relieved he feels. “Thanks, Mercury. Real trooper.”

“My pleasure.” With that, he takes his leave, concealer in hand, and you’re left to finish getting ready.

That evening, you sit alone at the bar at the Hard Deck, sipping your drink and watching Rooster and Hangman play pool across the way.

“You caught them?” Comes a voice from your side. You start, beer spilling and dripping on your shirt.

“Shit,” you curse, immediately grabbing napkins. “Can’t sneak up on me like that, Bobert.”

“Sorry,” Bob apologizes, passing you more napkins to assist.

It’s then that you process. “How long have you known?”

He shrugs. “A while. They’re really bad at being discreet, I’ve gone to shower and had to turn around far too many times.”

You furrow your brows. “Do you think anyone else knows?”

“Nah,” he refuted pensively. “If Nat did she’d’ve told me, the rest would be spreading the information if they knew and are generally oblivious. Maybe Coyote, that’d be the one exception.”

“Gotcha,” you nod, humming in consideration. The jukebox cuts out suddenly, and Phoenix appears to drag Bob to the piano to dance with her as Rooster plays. You sip from the drink in your hand as you watch, pang in your heart as Rooster grins over at Hangman, who subtly winks back. Unable to take it, you swallow down the last of the contents of the bottle, waving down one of the bartenders on shift and getting a refill before heading out the back door of the Hard Deck.

You stare up at the sky from your spot in the sand, sitting with your knees hugged to your chest. The moon’s normally benevolent brilliance seems to mock you now, the former source of comfort now its antonym. Its light scatters across the waves, pushing and pulling them, prodding them in and out, in and out. Coming closer but never touching, receding but never disappearing, only to start the process over again. You don’t know how long you sit there, condensation on the bottle as you peel at the label, zoning out and staring into the darkness of the open sea where you can’t tell where the sky ends and the water begins in the navy midnight.

You feel rather than see the shifting of sand, gentle breeze floating through your hair as someone sits beside you. You know who it is without looking.

“It hurts, doesn’t it.”

Your answer is silence as you both watch the water, minds and hearts stuck inside the brightly lit bar as you sit in barely-illuminated darkness.

Bob takes a sip of his own beer before he elaborates at your unspoken behest. “Giving someone the best of you and watching them choose someone else.”

“Yeah.” You glance backwards, easily spotting Rooster and Hangman dancing together, grins more blinding than the sun’s reflection off a car. You watch them for a moment, every second breaking you anew, over and over, Prometheus of the heart. Living through the pain of it slowly chipping away, the pain of it growing anew, the process as repetitious and torrent as the tide in a storm.

You shift to look at Bob, the light from the bar illuminating his back and casting a shadow over his face. The dim moonlight barely gives you enough to make out his silhouette; the bridge of his nose, curls of his hair.

“You love him, don’t you?”

Your words are quiet but meaningful, mind going to the resident Texan. Bob sighs, glancing down and picking at the label on his drink.

“Yeah.” No explanation is needed. “But he’s with…”

“Bradley. Who is with…”

“Jake.”

Your mutual pain overwhelms the two of you, a tsunamic version of the waves before you, leaving you drowning, swimming up and up and up in an attempt to breach the surface but disoriented and only descending further into the murky depths of loss and love, of the juxtaposition betwixt the two. You don’t realize that your snapping your hair band against your wrist until Bob reaches out and covers it gently, effectively barring it from happening further.

“I get it,” he says eventually, breaking the silence, the dark void. His voice breaks in turn. “I really, really do.”

You shift to rest your head on his shoulder. “It fucking hurts, Bobby.”

“I know,” he agrees, tears dripping onto your hair as your own find their way to his shirt. He shifts to bring an arm around you, pulling you into an embrace. You cling to each other, a lifeline, a tether, the only thing keeping the both of you from falling fully and never resurfacing. “Christ.” He laughs wetly.

And so you stay like that. You don’t know how much time passes as you sit in the sand, wind picking up until it’s stinging your skin, but you stay nonetheless, unbothered. Neither of you can bring yourselves to drag back into the bar, into the light and the revelry that so clearly exists as if in defiance of your pain and pining. So you stay in the darkness, soaking up comfort from your friend as he does the same. It’s a sort of mutualism, a dependency, a bond forged in the sudden knowledge of the other, of being two in the same broken self-isolation. There’s a heavy feeling, as if you’re the only ones stranded on a desert island; as if you’re the last two survivors following total apocalypse; two people in a frozen, barren, monotone wasteland, huddling together for warmth, for survival.

“I hate this.”

“Me, too.”

“It fucking sucks.”

You sigh against him. “Yeah,” you agree quietly, “it does.”

When you wake the next morning, your head is pounding. Memories filter in as slowly as the light through the blinds, forming a path on the carpeted floor. You had gotten drunk with Bob—not drunk to where you were blackout, but drunk to where you both had extremely limited brain power.

Which is when you realize—your bedroom floor is hardwood. Not carpet. Right. You groan as your mind flashes back to after a few too many shots of tequila—it always messes with your decision-making abilities.

“Bobby.”

“Hm?”

“I jus- jus’ had the greatest idea. Like, of all ever. Like, I’m a fu-” You pause, hiccuping, “fucking genius.”

“What?”

“We,” you gesture to the both of you, Bob in a very similar state to you. “Should fuck. Y’know, we’re both heartbroken, we both wanna get laid, problem solved.”

“Tha-” He stands, almost falling off of his bad stool in the process. You two giggle together at his mishap, the man quickly righting himself. “That’s genius.”

Which is how you’re here now. Thankfully, you two had had the wherewithal to take a cab to Bob’s place, and apparently made good on your decision, if the ache between your legs is anything to go by. And the dried-on-

You decide to not waste time on it and just shower. Passing by a mirror, you note the marks on you. Jesus, Bobby. Last night wasn’t great by any means—you were both incredibly drunk; there were, inevitably, a lot of coordination struggles. Yet he made you finish—more than what you can say for a lot of people—so you can’t help but wonder what he’s like sober.

You’re pleasantly surprised to see that Bob isn’t the kind of guy to have three-in-one shampoo. Sure, you’re stuck with men’s shampoo and body wash, but you make do; there’s not really an option to not.

A knock sounds at the bathroom door. “Y/n?”

“Yes?”

“Just checking. Is it okay if I brush my teeth while you shower?”

So sweet. “Sure thing.” Which reminds you… “Sorry about not asking.”

“No, no, it’s fine. Mi casa es su casa ‘n all that.”

“Thank you.” You hesitate, then add, “You don’t have to wait to shower. We’ve already seen each other naked,” you joke, to lighten the heaviness of your offer.

There’s silence for a moment, and you know Bob is processing, shocked. Then, shuffling, and cold air hits you as the door is pulled back. Bob is one of the lucky ones—he has a house on base instead of a dorm, which comes with its own bathroom. More than one.

You shiver, goosebumps erupting across your skin at the sudden change in temperature. You pass Bob the shampoo as you grab the body wash, wincing when you note your handiwork.

“Sorry.”

His grin doesn’t reach his eyes. “I did worse.”

You shrug it off, an attempt at comfort. “It’s fine, really.”

“If you’re sure.” You know it’s a deflection, but don’t know how to approach it. So you don’t.

“Want some help?” He offers as you struggle to get all of the places on your back.

“Yes, please.” You turn, rinsing your hands of the wash before balling up your shampooed hair so it won’t touch it, allowing Bob access to your back.

His touch is gentle, light, as he rubs it in, pressure growing as he massages your skin. You let out a soft moan at the feel, tension releasing, causing his movements to stutter but not stop. Once finished, he steps away.

Dropping your hair, you let the water run over you, miniature rivulets across your skin as you tilt your head back, eyes closed. “Want me to do you?”

He nods slowly, hesitantly. You’re gentle in your ministrations, treading lightly over the scratches on his marked-up back. “Hey.” Your voice is gentle as you turn him back to you, moving your hands to cup his face as you gaze at him with concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” His attempt at a reassuring smile falls flat.

“Bob, seriously.” Your hand runs up to play with his hair. “What’s wrong?”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard, droplets of water forming on his lashes that are decidedly not from the shower currently cascading over your back. “It’s…” He trails off, but further speech is unnecessary as it clicks into place.

“Oh, Bob.” In an instant, you’ve pulled him into a tight embrace, one arm rubbing comfortingly along his back while the other cups the back of his head, cradling it gently and bringing it to rest on the crook of your neck. His body shakes against yours with the force of his sobs. Last night, he had held you as you cried in his bed, the sting of unrequited love washing over you as surely as the water from the spout does. Now, it’s your turn to do the same, holding him close and lending what little you have as comfort through the waves of loss and pain.

Eventually, you’re both drying off together, and Bob finally speaks, having said less than a word since the shower.

“It hurts.”

“I know.”

“I hate living like this.”

“I know.” And you do. You do know. You know what it’s like to watch the person you love be happy with someone other than yourself, to have the internal war of he’s so happy, be happy for him versus but he could be happy with me.

You know.

Somehow, your one-time tryst turns into a thing. Most nights, you’re either at Bob’s house, or he’s at your dorm. You two usually tend towards the former; there’s far more privacy when you’re not sharing a hallway with a bunch of your coworkers.

And you were right—he’s fucking amazing sober. You by no means expected Bob to be this good.

You two don’t label it. In your minds, you’re just friends; if you had to put a name on it, you’d both say something along the lines of ‘fuck buddies’. As it is, though, your friendship is platonic. In these stolen midnight moments of seclusion is found a sort of mutualistic comfort, two lost souls grasping at straws to avoid being fully enveloped in the soul-sucking black hole of the agony of unrequited love, two twin thin threads tethering themselves together in an attempt at survival.

Soon, the veiled, darkened gentleness begins to come out into the light. Moments between flights, sitting on the tarmac together after a set of push-ups, knees to your chest as the sun begins its burning descent. Then, this tentatively budding friendship between you grows bolder, more courageous, spreading; appearing in your passings in the afternoon sky, sun riding high; in the morning brightness, sitting together in the rec room and lazily listening to the flights of the others; at noon when the sun is at its apex and the two of you eat lunch together. It’s a new familiarity that you grab onto with everything you have, clinging for dear life to this one thing as Bradley spends more of his time with Jake. Phoenix and Halo tend to hang out more and more as well, so the both of you are left alone to find solace and camaraderie from each other, mutually abandoned.

And so, the darkness slowly fades to light. The sun that set on your friendship with Bradley as he and Jake become Rooster-and-Hangman, a unit, not two separate beings, slowly dawns with Bob by your side.

And yet you cling to the night.

It’s subconscious, really; not a matter of thought. Yet, as much as you push against the current, you’re swept out, pulled deeper into the riptide until you’ve forgotten what it was like to not be. Holding on to and throwing away in equal measure, a yo-yo of emotion as you’re tossed to and fro like a football in the hands of a group of middle school boys.

You’re a pendulum, swinging back and forth from height to height; the human Newton’s Cradle. And you don’t know how to get yourself stop moving.

You feel the bed shift as Bob rejoins you, pulling you flush with his chest as your legs tangle together. He spoons you from behind, tracing your arm lightly while gently kissing the parts of your jaw and neck to which he has access.

“If you don’t stop that we’re not getting any sleep,” you grumble, not opening your eyes.

You can feel the reverberations of his chuckles through your back, the man pausing in his ministrations. “Sorry,” he responds, not apologetic in the slightest. He resumes the path of his fingers, up and down, trailing across your arm with a feather-light touch.

You two lay there in silence, the only sound that of breathing as you’re lost in your minds, separate, miles away, despite the physical closeness. Finally, Bob breaks the silence, quietly, tentatively.

“Hey.”

“Hmm?”

“What is,” he pauses, subconsciously running his tongue over his lips to wet them as he tries and fails to come up with a better way to say what he means, “…this?”

Confused, you shift your body so that your head can turn easily and meet his eyes. “What is what?”

“This.” He gestures between you two. “Us.”

A cold, sinking feeling forms in the bottom of your stomach. No. Please, no. You decide to play dumb, opting for humor. “We’re friends who fuck. Fuck friends.”

He shakes his head, scoffing as his eyes meet the ceiling. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Unfortunately, you do.

Unsatisfied with your silence, Bob presses the subject. “Y/n. Please.”

“Just stop, okay?” You grumble, shifting your body to face away from him.

He sighs. Shuffling is heard, and then he’s resting his head by the crook of your neck. “Just… talk to me?”

“Please,” you beg. Your eyes trace the outlines of the blinds over the windows, one after the other. When he doesn’t move, you move yourself. It’s… easier. To speak when you can’t see the target, to think when he’s not taking up every crevice of your physicality and mind.

Finally, you begin speaking, words weighted carefully until they begin tumbling from you without inspection. “You’re… a good guy, Robert.” The rare usage of his given name is a glimmer of how serious you are in the moment. “You deserve better. You deserve someone who can love you completely. Fully. Be completely, utterly in love and devoted. And I…” you hesitate, swallowing hard. “I can’t do that.”

“You think I deserve better.” His voice is rough as he repeats the phrase, a question phrased as a statement.

You nod your confirmation, feeling his eyes burning into the back of your head.

“Y/n… you are better. Better than I deserve.”

“That is categorically untrue, Bob.”

“See,” he chuckles with no humor, “that’s the thing.” He rolls over, and is hovering above you suddenly, resting his arms on either side of your head as he pushes himself up above you. Instinctively, you shift to lie flat on your back, gazing up into his intensely blue eyes. “You seem to think that just because Rooster was too blind to see everything amazing about you, that that means that it’s not there. Not that no one will, but that you imagined it. And that? That’s what’s ‘categorically untrue’. You deserve someone who loves you fully, completely, unfetteredly.”

“And you’re not the same?”

He chuckles with no humor. “Maybe. Probably. I just… with everything else going on, I don’t have the energy to care. If we can have something good, I can’t spend so much time on how what’s good can go bad. You have to take it sometimes. And… what you said goes both ways. I don’t know if I’d ever fully be able to give you my heart—Jake might have too much that I’ll never get back. But… I think that the possible good outweighs what can go bad. I think it’s worth it to at least try.”

“What happens when it doesn’t work? When we inevitably lose each other? You’re all I’ve got left, Bobby, I can’t.”

He scoffs, dropping back to your side and staring up at the ceiling. “That’s bullshit. We can’t lose each other just as easily with this? I mean, what’s the difference? We’re practically dating already, Mercury. Wake the fuck up.”

“We’re not!” You explode, sitting up in bed and hugging the sheets to you for comfort. “We’re not! We’re friends. There’s a difference.”

“If I go down tomorrow, you’re telling me it’s not going to hurt the same way it would if we were dating?”

That’s not what I meant, you want to say, followed by, yes. But your tongue tangles, ties, lips stalling, either unwilling or incapable of movement for anything other than what comes out. “No.”

“Christ,” Bob murmurs, more to himself than you as he runs a hand through his hair. “See, this right now? You’re pushing me away.” His voice turns desperate as he shifts to look at you, hand falling away. “Please, just stay. Stay with me. Everything else has gone to shit, can’t we just have this?”

“Bob…” You can’t. You can’t do this. So, you say as much. “I-” you glance away, at where your fingers fiddle with a thread falling from the hemline of your shirt. “I can’t.”

His voice drops, softening, as gentle as a light caress. “Do you want this?”

“This?” You hesitate. “Yes. Do I want the inevitable fallout?” You glance back, meeting his eyes once more as your breathing quickens. “No. I can’t handle that. I can’t handle not being enough, not being what you deserve, not-”

“Hey.” He reaches a hand up to cup your cheek. “Deep breaths.” Exaggerating his own, he waits until you’re back to normal before continuing. “Are you willing to deal with me not being enough? Not being able to give you all of me, give you everything you should have?”

“Of course. I mean, I object to the premise-”

“Then why wouldn’t I?”

His words are like the eye of the storm, the moment of calmness at the center of the whirlwind. They still you, slamming on the breaks of your brain so fast that you get whiplash, coming to a stop. You lay there for a moment, eyes and mind distant, Bob’s hand tracing it’s way down your cheekfacejawneckshoulderarm.

Finally, he breaks the silence, voice even and easy as he brings you back to earth. “Are you willing?”

“Always.” The answer is quick but unsure, the emotion in it a dead give away of vulnerability. You try to mask it but don’t have a chance before Bob has pushed himself up, the gentleness in his touch simultaneously directly in line with and directly in contrast with the kiss that he <plants> on you.

He pulls away gently, resting his forehead on yours. “Thank you.” The words are whispered but an olive branch, a trade off to the peek behind your mask.

Your hand comes up to brush away a tear that slips from his eyes, resting on his cheek. A bleary smile, and you respond, “Always.” Which, much to your pleasant surprise, turned out to be true.

Always.

Robert Bob Floyd Taglist

@ireadthensuetheauthors @notanordinaryprincess95

Bradley Rooster Bradshaw Taglist

@itscheybaby @monkeyyellowsunshine @yogabigooby @halfofwhatisayismeaningless @babyhoneystvles @evanthefunky @fangirl-316 @marvel-f1-and-more @arieltwvdtohamflash @shouldershimmycity @someone-pls-kill-me @claudie-080102 @straightforwardly @fandomstanner24 @gaedre @worldmadeofmemories @blue-aconite @fangirlofallthings22 @dempy @iefitzgerald-blog @mizzy-pop @rrrinaa @averyhotchner @smokey102 @haljordangreenjedi @littlebadariell @hope-love-equality2 @chaoticassidy @lunamoonbby

Top Gun Taglist

@4margaritasalex @blessupblessup @n3ssm0nique @luxebeautystyle @americaarse @datingbtr @qardasngan @earth-to-lottie @luckyladycreator2 @paintballkid711 @lt-b-rooster-bradshaw @wanderingmaximoffs

General Taglist

@thelifeofthelifeofme @falcvns @get0ut0fmyr00m

391 notes View Post

theodorereaken

2 months ago

Happy Birthday, @aurora-boreas-borealis!

happy birthday, @aurora-boreas-borealis!

10 notes View Post

theodorereaken

3 years ago

Can you please tag me in the sequal?

Red Wine and Gentle Lavender

Summary : After Emily doesn’t make it off the table, you go home and your heart breaks all over again, realising you missed your chance with her. Forever.

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x Fem Reader

Warnings: Heartwrenchingly angsty

Word Count: 936

“She never made it off the table."

You never thought seven little words could hurt so badly. Your surroundings turned to white noise, as you felt your soul begin to tear apart, the sounds of your teammates cries drowning out, fading to nothing. All you could hear was the sound of your breathing, shallow and shaky. Before you knew it, your body dropped towards the floor, crumbling against the wall. You felt arms grab you tightly, holding you up, unable to support yourself. All you could hear was the sound of your breathing.

You looked up to see Hotch and Rossi, helping you into a chair, their mouths were moving, but you couldn't focus on what they were saying. Confusion swept across your face, as you felt water hit your face.

"W-Where is... Where is th-this water, c-coming from," You mumbled, looking up. The white noise began to fade, as you felt JJ crouch beside you, holding your hand.

"Honey, you-you're crying," She sniffed, wiping your tears, holding back her own.

"I- I don't-" You began, before Penelope sat by you, pulling you into the tightest hug imaginable. That's when it hit you - she was gone. Emily Prentiss, your best friend, your confidant, your other half - was dead. You began to sob into Penelope's shoulder, your heart shattering into a million pieces, feeling Garcia whimper softly along with you. The cruelest part, however, was the soul crushing realisation that you never told her how you really felt about her - how much you truly cared for and appreciated her. You had so many chances to tell her you loved her, but let fear get the better of you every time. Now, it was too late - you'd missed your chance, forever.

"I- I have to- I can't," You stuttered, getting out of your seat, patting Penelope's shoulder.

"Hey, hey," Hotch said, keeping you steady. You looked into his eyes, tears brimming yet again.

"I can't be here, Hotch," You whimpered, a tear staining your cheek. He looked at Rossi, and they both nodded.

"Alright, c'mon, let me take you home," Hotch sighed, rubbing your arm gently. He held you tightly, steering you towards the exit, when Reid stopped you.

"Y/N?" He croaked. You turned around, your bloodshot eyes meeting his. He made his way over to you, and wrapped his arms around you tightly. You welled up at the physical contact, knowing how he hated and usually avoided hugs. "It's gonna be okay," He whispered, squeezing you gently. You pulled away, and simply looked at him, before you grabbed onto Hotch and made your way to his SUV.

The whole ride back to your apartment was spent in silence, tears silently spilling down your face. You turned to gaze out the window, wondering if things would've been different had you been honest with her. Would she have felt the same? Now, you'd never know. You continued to ignore Hotch's sympathetic glances. You made your way up to your apartment, Hotch following you inside. You took a deep breath, seeing the pictures of you and your team on your hallway shelves, knowing that things would never be the same. Hotch picked up on this and rested his hand on your shoulder.

"Do you want me to stay? I don't know how comfortable I feel leaving you alone, in this frame of mind." He said, in a concerned tone. You broke from your trance, turning your back to the pictures, now facing Hotch.

"I- Uh, no- no, I'll be okay. I really just need to be alone, I think," You whispered, avoiding his eyes because you knew if you looked at him, you'd crumble.

"Okay, but promise me you'll call me, or Rossi, if you need anything at all, regardless of the time," He told you, still looking at you like you were some lost puppy.

"I uh, I will Hotch, thank you," You replied, seeing him out. The second you closed the door, you fell against it, letting out a loud wail. You felt crushed by your raw grief and overwhelming regret, your heart tearing to shreds.

You eventually found the strength to pick yourself off the floor, and made your way to your bedroom. You removed your clothing, and fumbled in your drawer for some pyjamas, when you found an old t-shirt. Immediately, your heart sank, realising that it wasn't one of yours - it was one of Emily's, that she'd accidentally left after your last girls night. You covered your mouth shakily, the realisation that she was gone sinking in further. You tearfully slipped on a nightshirt, picked up her t-shirt, and crawled under your covers. You briefly glanced at your nightstand, eyes misting at the picture of you and Emily at your birthday party earlier in the year. You brought the t-shirt up to your face, inhaling her scent. The smell of red wine and gentle lavender filled your lungs, and you began to cry hysterically into the fabric, trying to keep yourself from hyperventilating, and failing miserably. You eventually became dehydrated, unable to cry any more. You went numb, wondering how you were supposed to move forward without your best friend. You lay shaking, clutching the t-shirt for dear life, as you cruelly dreamt of the life you'd never have. A life spent loving Emily Prentiss...

56 notes View Post

theodorereaken

8 months ago

hi do you have a post about the timeline in 911 like with the year and the seasons and so including season 5

Hi anon!

I don't *technically* have a post w/ the timeline, so I'm using your ask as an opportunity to make one!

I'm going to put this under a cut, bc currently I have actually no idea what's going on with the timeline for s5, and as things air, I'll update this continually, and it can be used as the most updated resource whenever you open it!

I could not resist adding commentary sometimes, sorry 😅

*disclaimer - I understand the crossover is supposed to line up w LS’s timeline or whatever but it absolutely does not work for our timeline. So this is purely OG’s timeline, bc I don’t watch LS, and also our timeline is a lot more logical.*

911 OG timeline under the cut!

Just a note - anything that’s currently speculation is gonna be in blue. As we get confirmation of things, I’ll add in confirmed info and put things in black, and anything that’s wrong will be removed/edited.

Also, episodes tend to happen over several days’ time, so if you’re looking for an EXACT date for a little scene in an ep, I mostly don’t have it for you, but you should put it within the week I’ve given, relative to where it went in the ep. (Eg a call later in the ep would be more likely to have happened on Thursday or Friday.)

Also re: s4. COVID does not work as a good timeline indicator for this show, AT ALL. Its sort of like the whole “do they have regular shifts” debate - the writers wrote the stories they wanted to tell, and then fit COVID in around that. Also it got really screwed by them being done filming before it hit, but not having aired any of s3B yet. And then both bc COVID can’t be used to figure out time, and also bc it wasn’t aired normally, it is a lot more nebulous timeline-wise, I did my best though 😂

-Pre Series-

1966-1967: Athena is born.

1967: Bobby is born.

Mid Mar 1977: Chim is born (this has the potential to change in the future, details on why found here)

Sometime July - Dec 1979: Hen is born.

1983: Maddie is born.

1985: Daniel is born.

1987 - 1992: Eddie is born SOMETIME in this time window. Personally I like him in 1989/90, bc it makes him 21 when Christopher is born, but I think 1987 is also very plausible since that’s when RG is born.

Fall 1989: “Athena Begins” starts, continues through 1991 (Emmett dies on Feb 17th, 1991).

Somewhere between Feb 15 and mid September 1991: Buck is born.

Sometime Aug - Dec 1992: Daniel dies.

2000: Albert is born.

Aug 2000 - Feb 2001: Michael and Athena get married.

2002: May is born. (Discussion on May’s birth year here)

2005: Chim joins the firehouse, events of Chimney Begins stretch out over ~2007?? Unclear exact time frame but before Hen joins and over at least a year, if not more.

2006: Josh joins dispatch.

Sometime?? In 2008: Hen joins LAFD to be a paramedic. I really don’t have a good measure for this one bc it apparently takes years to become a paramedic but this is one area where the writers don’t give a SHIT about reality bc she has to join in 2008 for a comment in Future Tense to make sense. So just - early 2008 probably for this one.

Jan 2009: Hen joins the 118.

2009: Harry is born.

2010 or early 2011: Eddie enlists in the army for the first time - coincides with Shannon getting pregnant. (As of now, no idea if they were married before or after she got pregnant. Timeline of him enlisting in response to the pregnancy though indicates to me maybe they were already married.)

2011: Denny is born.

2011: Christopher is born. (Anyone curious, personally, I’d put his birthday somewhere in Jan-early March, late May-early Sept, purely bc I refuse to think at this point that Christopher’s birthday has happened while the show has been airing and Eddie hasn’t mentioned it. So it must be during usual hiatus times 😂)

Dec of 2014: “Bobby Begins Again” starts.

2015: Eddie is deployed a second time, his helicopter crashes/he’s discharged from Army/Shannon leaves him and Christopher

Sometime Aug-Dec 2016: Bobby becomes captain of the 118.

Aug 2017: Buck joins the 118.

-S1-

Jan 3 - Jan 9th, 2018: “Pilot”

Jan 10 - Jan 16, 2018: “Let Go”

Jan 17 - Jan 23, 2018: “Next of Kin”

Jan 24 - Jan 30, 2018 - “Worst Day Ever”

Jan 31 - Feb 6, 2018 - “Point of Origin”

Feb 7 - Feb 27, 2018 - “Heartbreaker”

Feb 28 - Mar 6, 2018 - “Full Moon (Creepy AF)”

Mar 7 - Mar 13, 2018 - “Karma’s A Bitch”

Mar 14 - Mar 20, 2018: “Trapped”

Mar 21 - Mar 27, 2018: “A Whole New You”

-S2-

Sept 1 - Sept 23, 2018: “Under Pressure”

Sept 24, 2018: the earthquake

Oct 8 - Oct 14, 2018: “Stuck”

Oct 15 - Oct 21, 2018: “Awful People”

Oct 22 - Oct 28, 2018: “Dosed”

Oct 29 - Nov 4, 2018: “Haunted”

Nov 5 - Nov 12, 2018: “Buck, Actually”

December 2018: “Merry Ex-Mas”

Mar 11 - Mar 15, 2019: “New Beginnings”

Mar 15 - 16, 2019: “Fight or Flight”

Apr 15 - Apr 21, 2019: “Broken”

Apr 22 - Apr 28, 2019: “Ocean’s 9-1-1″

May 6 - May 12, 2019: “Careful What You Wish For”

May 13 - May 19, 2019: “This Life We Choose” (in case you’re curious, cuz I was, average probationary period for a firefighter is 6-18 months, Eddie’s is 9mo w the 118 (plus 3mo at the academy = Bobby’s “year of hard work” in his speech) so he more or less has an average probationary period length! The timeline just doesn’t fit otherwise w Buck’s leg.)

-S3-

Sept 1 - Sept 22, 2019: “Kids Today”

Sept 22, 2019: the tsunami (ending scene events of “The Searchers” carry over into Sept 23, 2019)

Oct 14 - Oct 20, 2019: “Triggers”

Oct 21 - Oct 27, 2019: “Rage”

Oct 28 - Nov 1, 2019: “Monsters”

Nov 4 - Nov 10, 2019: present day “Athena Begins” events

Nov 11 - Nov 17, 2019: “Malfunction”

Nov 25 - Nov 30, 2019: “Fallout”

Dec 1 - Dec 25, 2019: “Christmas Spirit”

Mar 16 - Mar 22, 2020: “Seize the Day”

Mar 23 - Mar 30, 2020: “Fools”

Mar 30 - Apr 12, 2020: “Pinned” (end scene is Apr 13, 2019)

Apr 13, 2020: “The Taking of Dispatch 9-1-1” (end scene events take place sometime Apr 13 - Apr 19, 2020)

Apr 20, 2020: Events of present day “Eddie Begins” (Christopher’s show-and-tell is Apr 24, 2020)

Apr 27 - May 3, 2020: “The One That Got Away”

May 4 - May 10, 2020: “Powerless”

May 11 - May 17, 2020: “What’s Next?”

-S4-

Mid Sept 2020 (pretty damn sure actually it’s Sept 21, 2020, but since it wasn’t aired on a regular schedule I can’t be completely, 100% sure): The mudslide

End of Sept 2020: “Future Tense”

Oct 2020: “9-1-1, What’s Your Grievance?”

Oct 2020: Present day events of “Buck Begins”

End of Oct - beginning of Nov, 2020: “Jinx” (Jinx happens in ~25hrs, start to finish, I just can’t tell you exactly what day)

Mid Nov 2020: “There Goes The Neighborhood”

End of Nov 2020: “Breaking Point”

Somewhere around the last two weeks of Jan 2021 - first two weeks of Feb 2021: “Blindsided”

Somewhere around the last two weeks of March 2021 - first two weeks of April 2021: “Parenthood”

May 3 - May 9, 2021: “First Responders” (I *think* this is where the show catches up where the regular airing schedule matches up w the show’s timeline. I have no reason to think otherwise)

May 10 - May 16, 2021: “Treasure Hunt”

May 17 - May 24, 2021: “Suspicion”

May 24 - May 30, 2021: “Survivors”

-S5-

Sept 2021: Albert joins the LAFD in the montage at the end of Survivors

Sept 14, 2021 - initial spyware attack

Sept 20 - Sept 27, 2021 - actual blackout

Oct 11 - Oct 17, 2021: ‘Home and Away’

Oct 18 - Oct 24, 2021: ‘Peer Pressure’

Nov 1 - Nov 7, 2021: 'Brawl in Cell Block 9-1-1′

Nov 8 - Nov 14, 2021: ‘Ghost Stories’

Nov 15 - Nov 21, 2021: 'Defend in Place’