#Notes From Nash

[clarissaweasley-10]

Grayson Hawthorne, wearing a loosely tucked white shirt, collar and first button opened, hair slightly messy/tousled, with his glasses on, reading something....

[lcvebuckley]

BOBBYNASH: unsteady

fly high bobby nash 🤍

[nashdoesstuff]

the fact that i still get notes from the dream tournament polls makes me feel really guilty 😭

[swan2swan]

[forrests-dash]

Every month, there is another Guess That Scream.

"Why?" Forrest snaps the first (technically second) time. "Isn't it a reminder of a shitty night? Sorry, I mean- …I mean, who am I kidding? It was a shitty night."

"It sucks, Reggie," he says more honestly the next month. "We can't keep pushing through with bad segments. No one likes it. No one likes hearing a guy scream on the radio! Why does no one believe me!"

"Why do I have to keep screaming," is the next objection. "You said there was a tape? Well, where is it? Where are these weird tapes of people screaming that we were meant to air in the first place? We can at least broadcast those and leave my voice alone. I need it. And I know you're all lying to me. I'm a terrible screamer. Ha ha, very funny."

"I don't care if listenership went up," Forrest lies. "It can't be because of the screaming. I don't even- I didn't even scream in the beginning! I- I did a- a 'Aaaaahhhhh,' and I did that to save the listeners' ears! Why would I… What do you mean I got better? No, I didn't!"

"Fine," he finally says. "Fine. No, no, you're right. Why bother trying to get rid of a good thing. Sure, I'll scream tonight."

And he does, thinking, spitefully, this will be the scream to end all screams. This will be the scream to put a stop to this segment once and for all. This is the one thing, more than anything else he's ever said or tried to pull off until this point, that will risk him getting fired again the most. But he does it. For The Scream. For the season of love. It's his highest yet, but not screeching, starting at a hitch and going on for much longer than he thinks is necessary, but he makes it last, putting his best moan into it and letting it end on a soft, satisfied sigh.

"Well, folks," he immediately goes back to normal, Peggy's hands over her face behind the glass, "time for you to call in and Guess! That! Scream!"

He waits for Peggy to say anything as the next track plays, taking them off air and on break, but she continues to sit silently, palms still over her face and not moving.

"It's me on a roller coaster," he tells her.

"Is it," she replies.

Naturally, this backfires. It is the most response this segment receives to date. No one gets it right, and everyone who's thinking of the same thing tries to describe it on-air in some of the most nonsensically sanitized ways that they can. Forrest leaves the station that morning wondering if Reggie might suspend him, at the very least. But Reggie doesn't. No one tells Forrest that ratings have spiked. No one tells him that he changed the brain chemistry of everyone who tuned in for that show irrevocably.

All he knows then is that he's failed, and will have to scream delicately on-air once a month until the day he's off the job.

[pineapplehazard]

maybe Fix You BY Coldplay was a good choice for a song at the end of 6x11 In Another Life

it could makes sense with the dialogue with Bobby and everything I guess

but putting this song, which most known lyrics are "when you try your best but you don't succeed" when Buck was having the final fight to survive? damn that's-

[servants-hall]

Miss Scarlet & The Duke - Season 4

[wormsdyke]

car seat headrest concert footage is fun to watch because there will be several minutes of just wordless wailing and guitar distortion and the audience will be a pretty even split of people losing their absolute shit to it and people who are clearly you know. they’ve heard music before and they’re not entirely sure that’s what’s happening right now

[nashdoesstuff]

@funtime918 CREST YAPPING IN THE TAGS

Everyone's version of NM has him drink some fancy ass wine, but I look at your NM, and....

I honestly think he'd just cease to exist if he consumed alchohol ever

You’d be completely correct xggxgxhxhxgxg

Ok listen I LOVE fancy wine drinking Nightmare, he’s my lil guy

But people miss out on “this bitch can’t handle alcohol” he’d get wasted and his autistic ass would NOT handle the taste hcchgjgjjg

Dramatics aside, I really love to think Nightmare doesn’t drink alcohol at all, he has work to be done, and 3 subordinates to keep an eye on, he has no time or space to be wasted

That being said, may I suggest green tea as Nightmare’s go to drink?

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

Hey. Hi. Hello. Today I learned about the existence of 15th century Welsh poet Gwerful Mechain and that she apparently has a surviving work of erotic poems.

Please. For Christmas. For Yule. Please tell me more because I can't read Welsh.

Heh heh. Oh, Gwerful Mechain is the absolute best.

(Quick housekeeping to keep the post manageable - I previously wrote about things like cynghanedd and cywydds and englyns and such here, so check that if you need an explanation.)

What's fun is that we don't know a ton about her, because not a lot got written down about people in her time. Her surviving work covers a 40ish year span at the end of the 1400s to just into the 1500s, but we don't know when she was born or died or anything like that. We know her parents' names? And that she was from Mechain, hence the bardic name. And that she married a guy and had a daughter, something which actually does mark out her body of work as different from her contemporaries; being a wife and mother, she couldn't do the usual bardic role of travelling the country to spread news and play at courts. This means she doesn't have any of the praise poetry that a lot of male bards produced about the lords that hosted them.

But, there's stuff we can piece together about her. For one thing, she was not just literate (not a universal skill for anyone at that point, but especially for women), but she was astonishingly well-read and had what appears to be a classical education, given her poetic references and traditional Welsh meters. For another, her work often had recurring themes of religion, sex, and women's rights, sometimes all at the same time.

At the point Gwerful was active, Welsh bardic culture heavily featured ymrysonau. An ymryson is like... well, I hesitate to say "sort of like a rap battle" after the way everyone and their dog now thinks that's what the Mari Lwyd does, but they were like a cross between a rap battle and the publication war between two rival academics. A bard would write an englyn and publish it in the local parish newsletter. Another bard would see this, and write their own englyn about how stupid the first bard's englyn was, and publish it in the same newsletter. The first bard would see this and retaliate. The second bard would retaliate to that. And on and on it would go, like a printed tennis match for all the parishioners to enjoy, until someone wrote a conclusive verse OR until someone went "Lol, you got me good there" and bowed out with dignity. Sometimes, these things were fucking vicious; but other times, they were just banter between two bards who knew each other and were enjoying the chance to keep their poetic skills in tip top condition.

Now, Gwerful was an active and enthusiastic participant in ymrysonau. We have many examples of her work from these. There are two of particular note that I'll list here, each against a different bard:

Dafydd Llwyd o Fathafarn. Mathafarn and Mechain are not so distant from one another, so no real surprise that these two locked horns a lot, but the impression I always got from their ymrysonau is that they were good mates, actually. These fell into the 'banter' category more often than not. Dafydd was a Welsh Nationalist who was hoping for a Welshman to rise up and throw off the yoke of English oppression, and most of his work is about that, but he turned up the filthy erotic shit for any ymryson with Gwerful because BOY HOWDY was that her specialty. IIRC she did occasionally poke fun at his Welsh Nash leanings, especially his obsession with Mab Darogan (OLD Welsh idea that translates to the Son of Prophesy - the Arthur-style figure that will one day drive out the English overlords), but mostly their ymrysonau were incredibly beautifully-written odes that could be summed up as "Dafydd, my man, my good friend, I mean this sincerely: suck my entire clit".

She often won.

Ieuan Dyfi. God, what a fucking asshole. This one was not banter. Gwerful played for blood with this prick.

We actually would know nothing about Ieuan Dyfi if not for Gwerful Mechain, because it was her poetic response to him that meant his only surviving poems made it to the modern day; that, and the record of him being brought before a church court where he admitted adultery with Anni Goch, a married woman. Oh, and the record of him being brought before the law courts at Liverpool, accused of domestic abuse and gambling? If I remember right?

Two things to know that set the scene for what came next:

One of Gwerful Mechain's surviving poems is an englyn considered to be possibly the oldest extant poem about domestic violence written by a woman: I’w gŵr am ei churo (To the husband who beats her)

Dager drwy goler dy galon - ar osgo I asgwrn dy ddwyfron; Dy lin a dyr, dy law’n don, A’th gleddau i’th goluddion.

There are a lot of translations for this one to try to keep its poeticness, but this one is pretty good:

Through your heart’s lining let there be pressed, slanting down, A dagger to the bone in your chest. Your knee smashed, your hand crushed, may the rest Be gutted by the sword you possessed.

She has others, too, that deal with sexual assault, and something scholars often note about Gwerful is her remarkable knowledge of the law as it pertained to women's issues. So she was not, you see, a woman with a high view of a man accused of domestic violence anyway.

But then Ieuan Dyfi wrote five poems about Anni Goch, the married woman he'd fucked, each more "Wow dude, she said no" than the last, culminating in I Anni Goch; a full cywydd of misogynistic Medieval-incel bullshit about how false and evil women are, which listed all the false and evil women of history including classical and mythological figures.

And. Well. Gwerful had some views.

Her responding cywydd - I ateb Ieuan Dyfi am gywydd Anni Goch - basically blasted the guy back into his own impact crater and disintegrated him. What she did with it, essentially, was to mirror his cywydd. Where he'd gone "Isn't it so true how great men throughout history have always been brought low by women, amirite lads? Here's examples", Gwerful went "Isn't it so true how 'great men' throughout history have behaved appallingly and fucked up through their own actions and then somehow managed to blame women, amirite lads? Here's examples." Where his examples had been historical figures, so were hers. Where his had been classical, so were hers. Where he went Biblical, so did she.

And what's so interesting about that last one is how pointed she was with it - for some reason, in his big list of evil women, Ieuan Dyfi did not go for the most obvious and low-hanging of fruit (no pun intended) - he doesn't cite Eve. In response, Gwerful also sidesteps the most obvious and low hanging of fruit - she doesn't cite Mary. In so doing, she makes it clear that she doesn't even need to.

There is no record of him responding to her. IIRC, there is a record of him doing three years in prison.

But! Outside of all of that, the big thing Gwerful was known for was her erotic poetry. You'll be unsurprised to hear that it wasn't written for shits and giggles - much like today, women of the time were told that most of their value was in their looks, and they had plentiful insecurities about their bodies. Gwerful wrote her erotic stuff to confront those insecurities and shine a light on the issue. There are so many examples of this, but far and away the most famous is definitely Cywydd y Cedor - roughly translated, 'Ode to the Vulva'. Though I have also seen it titled Cywydd y Gont - Ode to the Cunt. It's such a shame that the English language is literally, physically not capable of cynghanedd, because it means unless you learn Welsh you will never understand the beauty and the lyricism of the piece, and how it elevates and undercuts the content at the same time; but it's a joyful, masterful, irreverent work that uses the fancy language male poets were forever dedicating to the rest of a woman's body and applies it squarely to the vulva. In fact it basically opens with "Men are cowards, describe more cunts or gtfo" before launching into its main subject matter. The last line is pro-pubic hair, too, like I really must stress how much Gwerful Mechain would have to offer Tumblr if you could speak Welsh. This is probably her most widely translated piece, though, you can definitely find English versions. Although you can tell how blushing and reticent the translator is - and therefore how sanitised their translation is - by whether they've called it Ode to the Vulva/Cunt, or Ode to the Pubic Hair.

Needless to say, the original is not sanitised.

(Actually, I should also say - this one is also a response piece, probably, but in this case to a bard who lived a century earlier - Dafydd ap Gwilym, the absolutely legendary and uncontested king of Welsh romance poetry. He wrote a poem called Cywydd y Gal - Ode to the Penis. I have only just put two and two together on that.)

As a final note, I should say that my personal favourite Gwerful Mechain poem on this subject, mind, is actually I'w morwyn wrth gachu - to the maiden who is shitting. It's an englyn written in Gwerful's customary high poetic form, but it is what it says - it describes a woman taking a shit, and farting as she does. Beautiful and magical and disgusting and banal, all in one go:

Crwciodd lle dihangodd ei dŵr - ’n grychiast O grochan ei llawdwr; Ei deudwll oedd yn dadwr’, Baw a ddaeth, a bwa o ddŵr

Funnily enough, it's hard to find a good translation for this one lol.

My attempt:

She crouched where her water escaped - creased From the cauldron of her heat; Her two holes were arguing, Shit came, and a bow of water

Eh. It's so bland in English. Honestly, if you could read Welsh...

Anyway, if anyone reading this can read Welsh and wants to read some of Gwerful Mechain's stuff - including some of the pieces she was responding to in the ymrysonau - you can find a load here. Otherwise, I hope you enjoyed!

[alchemistc]

Spec fic, possible spoilers ahead! MCD warning.

(Fully ignoring anything that could be happening between now and the latest bts leaks)

ring out the bells again

He hasn't been to one of these in a while.

He feels out of place, here in this space meant for family, this space occupied by members of the 118, members of Bobby's family. He shouldn't be here, except -

Except when Eddie had shown up at his door, he hadn't given him much of a choice - brushed past him with his lips sucked behind his teeth and a disapproving brow, beelining it for Tommy's bedroom like he had any goddamn right -

He'd had to dig for Tommy's dress uniform.

Departmental funerals were mandatory for firefighters on duty, but Tommy wasn't, and he'd assumed he wouldn't be wanted. Given... everything.

But there Eddie had been, presenting Tommy with the plastic bag he'd collected from the dry cleaners with red cheeks and his chin tipped defiantly because Evan hadn't fully let him get it off, the last time he'd worn it.

And there Eddie had been, shoving him wordlessly towards his own damn bathroom.

("You have fifteen minutes. Do not spend them pretending you're vain enough to make us late, I will kneecap you."

"I don't really think it's appropriate for me to -."

"Stop thinking, Tommy. You're bad at it."

Which Tommy assumed meant he'd heard at least some of the things that had been said the morning he'd dropped half a paycheck on eggs at the corner store.)

Gerrard, thank fuck, has disappeared into the thinning crowd. He hasn't seen Hen in an hour, at least, or Officer Grant.

Her kids had given him strained smiles as they lined up for the procession, and nothing else. Not that he blamed them. He's spent over a year now idly jealous of how close Nash knit his team together - he can only imagine he'd done the same with the family he'd found out here.

Eddie's been giving him a death glare/encouraging head tilt combo for the last twenty minutes, and Tommy -

Things are winding down. The 118 is scattered. And Evan has been in the kitchen staring blankly at the small box Athena had handed him for at least half an hour.

"Hey," he says softly, and Evan blinks blearily up at him. Tries for a smile that immediately fails. There are note cards scattered all over the counter next to the sink, filled with blocky, crisp handwriting Tommy only recognizes because he'd stared at the note attached to his transfer papers for days, dazed and overwhelmed by the things Bobby had written there, like he was proud of Tommy.

Recipe cards, he recognizes, and feels like he might implode under the pressure behind his ears.

Evan's gaze returns to the note cards. He looks overwhelmed, confused, shoulders hunched and eyes swollen - he'd nicked his chin shaving this morning, and Tommy feels his hand flit toward the mark before he can think better of it.

"I think people are heading out," he says, and doesn't really know why. Evan was like a son to Bobby. No doubt he's welcome here long after everyone else trickles out.

Evan just nods, though - seems confused when he encounters the resistance of Tommy's fingers below his chin. Tommy takes half a step back, fingers retreating, and they just - stare at one another.

Eddie gives a hacking cough from the next room and Tommy feels color rise in his cheeks. Tommy is here for a reason, according to Eddie.

"Want some company?" he asks, and Evan's gaze slides across his face, fingers toying with the end of a note card.

"Are you gonna stay?"

And Tommy deserves that. Tommy absolutely deserves that, even if they'd both said and done some shitty things. "As long as you need," he says, and tries to convince himself that's the truth, that he can shove down that first instinct that always tells him to run.

Evan nods. Swallows. Gathers up his cards and places them gently, reverently, back in the small wooden box they'd come in. Bobby's recipes. The sort of Midwest casseroles and roasts and pots of chili that could feed a small army. Or a medium sized firehouse.

The box clicks shut, and Tommy remembers he hadn't even driven. Had Evan? Was he safe to drive?

Evan answers the silent questions by digging into his pocket and tossing a set of keys Tommy's way.

"I - I shouldn't..."

Shoulders hunched, hands clutching the recipe box, they make a retreat, Tommy following dutifully behind Evan as he makes his rounds - saying goodbye to Karen, Denny and Mara (still no Hen); Eddie and Chris; Ravi, who Tommy is a little surprised is still even there, considering how good he is at ditching uncomfortable situations; Howie and Maddie, the latter of whom eyes him carefully, consideringly, like she knows too much and doesn't quite approve.

No hugs, just quick goodbyes, and it feels so out of character for the man he knows for a fact craves that intimacy, pushes for it with everyone he cares about any time he can. But Tommy's pretty sure he's the first person who's touched him all day.

The car ride is silent. One bonus to driving Evan's Jeep is that he doesn't feel like he's in a clown car - barely has to adjust anything except the seat, because his legs aren't comically long.

The silence is oppressive.

He doesn't feel like he has the right to mourn, the way the rest of them are. The way Evan is.

Halfway there, the recipe box snicks back open and Tommy darts his gaze from the road just long enough to watch fat tears well at the corners of Evan's eyes. In the rearview, as he returns his eyes to the road, he can't really see much, but in his peripherals he can see Evan's shoulders shaking in jerky movements, like he's fighting it.

Tommy rounds the hood to open his door for him, as soon as he's parked in the drive.

Evan has shored up, in the back half of the journey - red rimmed eyes the only real sign that he's been anything other than stone-faced since they all began to line up.

Tommy hooks an elbow when Evan stumbles out of the Jeep, holds him steady, watches Evans fingers go white around the box.

"You coming in?" Evan asks, voice steady, whatever reserves of bravery he has being put to good use there on the cracked concrete.

"If you want."

That gets him a bratty snarl of a scowl, which he isn't sure he deserves, but it also gets a tentative finger and thumb playing with the sleeve of his dress uniform. Tommy has to strain to hear the "Please." that whispers out of the side of Evan's mouth.

He's moved in, now. No tripping hazards, no rolled up rugs to smack themselves with, just the stale air of a house he probably hasn't been to in a few days other than to get his own uniform. In the kitchen, Evan sets his recipes reverently on the table.

Then his face crumples, body listing, and Tommy catches him up in his arms when Evan buries his face in Tommy's shoulder.

Dry, hacking sobs, breathless enough that Tommy is concerned they're veering into panic attack territory, until the wetness hits the skin of his neck and Evan's arms come up to cling back.

"Don't go," Evan manages between breaths, and Tommy pulls him closer, squeezes him tighter. "Please don't -."

"I'm here," he says, hand sweeping a wide arch across his back. "I'll be here as long as you want." Which is a different statement than the one he'd made at the wake, and gives Evan pause long enough that Tommy starts imagining the responses he might get, but in the end, all he gets is the last of Evan's resistance falling away, his body relaxing into Tommy's enough that Tommy has to plant his feet to keep them upright.

He sweeps his hand up, down, around. Doesn't know if it's helping, at all, not that anything could possibly be particularly helpful in this moment.

They stay there until Evan's tears have ebbed, until he pulls free and frowns at the side of Tommy's neck, hand wiping at the mess there like Tommy gives a single fuck about it.

This isn't the time or place for it, so they don't bring up the last time they were in this kitchen together. Always the goddamn kitchen. Always a step and a half too far apart. "I - will you -?" Evan closes his eyes. Swallows. Tips his chin up, blinks at the ceiling. "Is -is it weird if I ask you to help me bake a lasagna, right now?"

Tommy can't help the bark of laughter, but it brightens something in Evan's eyes, anyway, so Tommy doesn't feel too bad. "Not really dressed for it," he says, and this earns him a snotty little grin.

"You know where the bedroom is," Evan says, and takes off in that direction himself.

They lay both their uniforms out across the bed - headboard in place, mattress off the floor, fully made with extra throw pillows Tommy doesn't remember; dress in silence, sneaking glances at one another as Evan seems to work up to saying something to him.

One arm halfway through a cutoff he knows had been his, at one point, Evan cuts the distance between them, places his hand over Tommy's beating heart - skin to skin, and Tommy abandons his attempt to dress so he can press his palm to the back of Evan's hand.

When they make it back out to the kitchen, there's a sturdiness to Evan that's been missing all day.

His hand slides to the box on the kitchen table. Pulls out the first card, and places it on the table. Slides it Tommy's way.

He'd understood the significance of making the lasagna already, but he doesn't hesitate to soak in the handwritten card, keeps his mouth shut about the process because now isn't the time to bring up his grandmother's homemade pasta, the sundried Roma she always used for her freshest sauces.

Maybe it is, actually.

Tommy takes a deep breath, ignores the panic gathering behind his ribs when Evan's gaze darts up to his. And Tommy begins to tell him about nonna.

[screamlet]

fic recs: so you survived season 8(b) of 9-1-1

credits rolled on 8×18 and i decided to make myself feel better with some fic recs. these have tons of recency bias since i wanted to focus on stories set primarily during 8b - there have been a lot of good ones on this fucking section of the rollercoaster!!

if you're looking for more recs, check out my 911 fic rec or 911 fic tag (which includes my own stuff). there's also my ao3 bookmarks. fandoms include: 911, hockey rpf, bts, annnnnnnd whatever else i've got in there. (so much check please. what a time that was.) anyway.

--- all bucktommy unless noted otherwise, all complete (no wip's) most of them are locked to ao3 users

You as you were @geddyqueer 10k, rated M, complete notes: yes i know this was posted today but it needs to Be Here

"Evan," Tommy says, and the brittle look on his face makes Buck stop laughing right then and there. "What's going on?" "Oh, you know," Buck says. "I'm being evicted."

---

the only way out is through @ambernotember 10k, rated T, complete notes: yes i know this was posted yesterday but it needs to Be Here

Bobby’s old apartment building. He knew how it would look to the others so he just… hadn’t mentioned it. He met them at their houses or took Jee to neutral places, like the park or the aquarium. No one questioned it. He doubted they’d even noticed.

---

called out from the mouth of oblivion @r-o-s-e-f-i-r-e bucktommy/bathena, 4k, rated E, complete notes: 8×15 au (bobby lives)

It was good, overall, that no one had ever managed to break Buck of his impulsive, hothead ways completely. Bucking the lead, Bobby thinks fondly. It’s the thing that’ll save all of their lives again before the end finally comes, he's sure of it, and one day it'll make Buck the best kind of captain, the kind his team will follow to hell and back.

---

half a page of scribbled lines @liminalmemories21, @cecilyv 25k, rated N/A, complete notes: kid fic aka THE ONE WITH ROBBY!!!!

They get married before they move in together. Tommy's pretty sure that if someone had told him a year ago that he'd be married and finding a place in his garage for the bike he's never seen Evan actually use, and watching Evan survey his — their — kitchen like he’s determining the best position to station his troops, he'd have given them a free ride to the hospital.

flag-bearers @liminalmemories21, @cecilyv tumblr fic, 8×15 coda

The bubble of hope pops abruptly when Evan says, "What are you doing here?" "Your sister called,” a voice he doesn't recognize says. And well, fuck. There's just no way this ends well.

---

wind finding @rcmclachlan 3k, rated T, complete notes: sunset helicopter drama, were we ever so young??

Tommy's in the cockpit of his favorite AW139 with a gun pressed to the base of his skull.

---

if there's solid ground below @stars-inthe-sky 1k, rated G, complete

This summer was shaping up differently.

---

inhale 'til your lungs get sore @apollabarnes 5k, rated T, complete

Bobby Nash dies. Bobby Nash... sticks around.

---

I Never Really Had a Friend @firewasabeast 5k, rated M, complete

Buck is standing in the middle of Eddie’s living room. No. His living room. At least for one more week. It’s almost empty... But it’s in this space, this room filled with memories and ghosts, that Buck decides he’s never really had a friend.

---

what I covet, I keep @firehose118 9k, rated E, complete

Eddie is back for the weekend and Tommy stakes a claim.

---

you take the love, i'll take the fall @postmodernau 4k, rated E, complete

Buck gets more than he bargains for from a Grindr hookup.

---

8×15 codas from @leashybebes

part one

It doesn't matter what they are. What they were in the past. What they might be in the future. Evan is breaking apart on the screen in front of him, and Tommy feels like there's a hook in his gut, hollowing him out even as it pulls him closer.

part two

Evan pushes away from him, sits up, scrubs his hands over his face. His shoulders straighten, his back stiffens, his jaw tightens. He clears his throat and a different person looks at him out of Evan's eyes, made dull by the low light and the things that have happened. They've never knowingly worked a sanctioned scene together before, but he thinks this is what Evan must look like when he takes charge in the field.

---

these episode codas from @alchemistc

favors

Tommy's the kind of asshole who checks his phone at the table in the middle of a first date, now.

ivory limbed and brown-eyed

Buck wakes with the sun streaking across his face and a finger tracing the lines around his eyes, feather light touch and a shadow across his brow like Tommy's tilted his head just to make sure he doesn't take a direct hit from the early morning rays.

---

and there's more every day because yay fandom! we made it!

[atomicrebelfire]

Trying to make the 9-1-1 timeline make sense: A Tommy Kinard Service Investigation 🧍‍♀️📈📉📊📋🧵

🧠 Tommy Kinard Timeline: Realistic vs Canon-Compatible We know Tommy is about 40–41 years old in the show. So I rewatched Chimney Begins a couple of days back, Chim joined the 118 as a probie while Tommy was already there — yeah, I blacked out and opened a spreadsheet.

So here’s how Tommy’s career might actually look… vs how we have to twist it to make it fit 9-1-1 canon 😅

🔹 Version 1: Realistic / Actual Timeline Assumes Tommy was a full U.S. Army helicopter pilot before joining the LAFD — based on the accurate 6-year service requirement that existed prior to August 2020. 2002 (Age 17): Enlists in the U.S. Army with parental consent 2004 (Age 19): Accepted into Warrant Officer Flight Training 2005 (Age 20): Graduates flight school at Fort Rucker, becomes a Black Hawk pilot 2005–2011 (Age 20–26): Serves full 6-year commitment as active-duty Army pilot 2012 (Age 27): Honorably discharged 2013 (Age 28): Enrolls in LAFD Academy 2014 (Age 29): Completes training and probationary period, joins a firehouse 2015–2017: Transfers to Station 118, works under early captains (pre-Bobby) 2017: Leaves 118 to join Harbour Unit as a rescue pilot 2017: Buck joins 118 as a probie, filling Tommy’s spot 2024: Returns in S7 as Air Ops pilot 📌 Clarification: Before August 2020, U.S. Army helicopter pilots were obligated to serve for 6 years after graduating flight school — not 10. That means Tommy could realistically have served from 2005 to 2011, joined LAFD in 2013, and reached the 118 by 2015.

❗But: Chimney canonically joined the 118 in 2005, and Tommy still wouldn’t have been there yet — so this version is more plausible, but still not canon-aligned. ❌

🔹 Version 2: Canon-Compatible Timeline Compresses military service to make canon timelines possible. 2000 (Age 17): Enlists in the Army 2002 (Age 19): Completes flight school via Warrant Officer program 2002–2004 (Age 19–21): Serves active duty; discharged early (injury, restructuring, etc.) 2004 (Age 21): Joins LAFD Academy 2005 (Age 22): Assigned to Station 118 as a full firefighter 2005: Chimney joins as a probie — Tommy is already established 2005–2016: Served at 118 under early captains Late 2016/Early 2017: Bobby Nash arrives as new captain 2017: Tommy works briefly under Bobby 2017: Leaves 118 to join Harbour Unit as a rescue pilot 2017: Buck joins the 118 as a probie, effectively taking Tommy’s spot 2024: Returns in S7 as helicopter rescue pilot ✅ This version keeps everything lined up with Chimney’s and Buck’s established timelines — and explains how Tommy could’ve already been at the 118 before both of them.

✍️ Meta note: Tommy wasn’t originally meant to return. He was first mentioned back in Season 2 as part of the 118’s past — folded into the backstories of Hen, Chimney, and Bobby. — The writers clearly weren’t planning for him to show up again in Season 7. But now that he’s canon again... we get to be ✨creative✨ to make it all fit 😌

📎 Note: All timelines, ages, and years used here are based on canon clues, but the show itself plays fast and loose with dates. So everything here is assumptive, patched together with love, logic, and a dash of spirally elbow grease 🧵🧠 Interpret with flexibility — because the writers sure do 😌 Don’t ask me why I did this. Send help.🚑🧑‍⚕️🏥

💬 If I missed something or fudged a date, feel free to correct me (kindly) — or stitch in your own version. I’m always down to spiral deeper. 🧵🔥

[thirdwheelravi]

i guess i could see buck putting in the transfer request as like. him trying to take pepa's advice to embrace change. but honestly it just did not make a lot emotional sense!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

in general the way they handled buck's grief specifically and the "fracturing of the 118" at large just. was extremely poorly done. and it honestly started in 8x17 as much as i liked that episode. there was a lot of TELLING us and very little showing us exactly what buck even meant when he said he felt like everyone was spiraling away from him. they didnt even show us the "we don't even eat together" (im aware it's a scene that got cut but THEY SHOULD NOT HAVE CUT IT). very little showing us that everyone felt they couldn't talk to him as eddie says. very little showing us why after ending the 8x17 on a hopeful note buck is suddenly again in such a dark place that he's basically given up on the 118 as a family. i mean, that line "it's just a number" was just SUCH a clear case of the writers wanting to put the same line in chimney's speech ("it's not just a number!") and shoehorning it in.

and don't even get me started on the fact that Hen is given ZERO space for her own grief. she is there to be athena's friend and chim's friend (and eddie's friend) that's fine and good but we seriously know ABSOLUTELY NOTHING???? about how she feels about bobby's death???? like seriously ZERO time was spent on that.

imo the chim and athena conflict was the only emotional thread that was well set up and executed from the beginning of the bobby's death arc to the end (although i have my quibbles with the captain han aspect of it). every scene of the two of them together was interesting and layered and most of all MADE SENSE EMOTIONALLY. I FELT those scenes, from her yelling at him in 8x16 to the awkwardness in 8x17 to her telling him bobby would be proud of him in 8x18. the shot of her holding baby han at the end was one of my favorites of the episode. honestly i did not even need the whole Robert Nash Han part of it, just the image of new life coming into the world and athena being part of that...that was honestly all they needed.

[1-800-ur-cyber-slxtt]

𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒; 𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐍 𝐁𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐋𝐘

summary: buck and nash!reader have been dating in secret for awhile, secret as in the only one who's yet to find out is readers dad, bobby. that is until he accidentally finds out and isn't exactly pleased...

word count: 3.3k

warnings: nash!reader, fem!reader, angst, fluff, hidden relationship, Eddie being FED up, a little buddie x reader if you REALLY and i mean REALLY squint, buck being both an idiot and a little douchey, slight implied plus size reader but not really, shit ending but i hate writing this long of a fic so don't be mad (yes i consider this long)

notes: i need this man so bad grrr

masterlist

divider credit: @cursed-carmine

It started after a particularly rough shift, both finding comfort in one another. What started as one night of finding relief soon became something more. Sex became an outlet and eventually a relationship blossomed. 

Somehow you both managed to keep it a secret, it was hard sure but everyone was so wrapped up in their own problems that no one had caught on. It stayed that way for a while at least. 

The agreement to keep the relationship hidden had been mutual, at least for the most part. The longer it stayed a secret the harder it was to tell anyone. Both of you were scared of your fathers reaction, Buck being like a son to Bobby was afraid he was crossing a line. The relationship Evan and Bobby had developed was one your boyfriend (and father alike) cherished dearly, and Evan didn’t want anything to come between it. 

If your relationship with Buck was to come to an end, you didn't want anyone to be caught in the middle, whether that be Buck or your dad. Dynamics at the station would shift and no one deserves to have to choose sides. 

Regardless of everything the guilt was eating you up inside, still you didn’t say anything, didn’t say how maybe it would be a good idea for your relationship to come out as Buck begged Eddie to keep his mouth shut. It started with Eddie and soon enough the only one who was none the wiser was Cap. 

You’d both heard a thousand times from your coworkers and friends that you should just tell him, he would find out soon enough anyway. “Come on, you’re going to have to tell Cap sooner or later, why not do it sooner?”, Eddie questions as he places the bowl of salad on the dining table. 

Buck gives somewhat of an exasperated sigh, “It’s not that simple.” He sets the cutlery down on the table, his back turned to you so he can’t see the conflicted expression on your face once again. 

“Why? Why isn't it that simple? What good do you think it’s doing to wait?” Goddamn Eddie for being sensible. A sensibleness Buck-, no, both of you seemed to be lacking.  

Bucks hands clench, “It’s not about doing good, it's about preventing the bad. Once we tell him there's no undoing it. Think of the fallout if it blows up in our faces.”

You place four plates on the table, hesitant to speak up your voice comes out unsure, “Maybe Eddies right…”, The look on Bucks face was like daggers but you continued anyway, “He’s going to find out soon enough and it’s going to be so much worse if it’s not us he’s hearing it from. Plus this is stressing everyone out.” 

An ‘I told you so’ - satisfied smirk makes its way onto Eddie's lips at that. With one hand on his hip he watches Buck who looks as stubborn as ever but at the end of the day there was only so many times he could say no to you. 

“We’ll talk about it later.”Buck mutters, irritated with his best friend's interference and his girlfriend's agreeance. But most of all with the fact he knew they were right.

“Seriously, Evan, Hen is about this-,” he holds two fingers up “close to outing you both.”

A loud scoff leaves Bucks lips, his eyes rolling. “She wouldn’t.”, he shakes his head, though his tone is unconvinced. He knows Hen and he knows Eddie isn’t lying. 

In an urge to comfort him you step beside Buck, hands running soothingly up and down his arms. You wished Eddie would drop the subject, at least for now but he was relentless. 

He raises an eyebrow, grin still present even though he’s annoyed with the pair of you. “You sure about that? Because last week she said, and I quote, ‘If those two don’t grow a spine and tell Bobby, I’m announcing it during morning briefing.’”

Buck groans dramatically and drags a hand down his face, muttering “Unbelievable” under his breath. 

Your boyfriend turns his head and looks down at you, his face softening but not completely. It’s not until you turn him, one hand cupping his face and the other massaging his shoulder gently that the tightness in his jaw eases. 

“You know my dad, he’ll be understanding and supportive as long as we tell him.”, You say softly. You weren’t just reassuring him, you were reassuring yourself as well. Buck’s eyes flicker down to the floor, he knew you weren’t wrong but the anxiety still stayed. 

Eddie finishes putting food out onto the table just as Christopher appears from his room. The four of you settle at the table for dinner and for the moment the subject changes.

Later that night Buck and you had talked about it again, the conversation ending in a similar result as the prior one. Both of you are tense and caught in your own thoughts, mulling over the pros, cons and the inevitable truth that your relationship couldn’t be a secret forever nor much longer. 

Buck sits against the headboard of your bed, his gaze unfocused as he zones out. Despite your own overthinking you notice how spaced out he is, staring off into the distance. 

You finish getting ready for bed before you join him, climbing over to him to straddle his lap, his hands immediately taking their place on your thighs. Neither of you break the silence at first, the air heavy with unspoken tension. 

Almost subconsciously his hands palm your doughy thighs, the action working to soothe him. At first you don't register the words he says, but when you process it you’re taken aback, shocked by his decision.

“We’ll tell him.”, he murmurs quietly, so quietly you barely catch it.  

You blink, hands pausing where they’d been resting on his shoulders, “What? Are you serious?”

He nods slowly, swallowing down the nervous lump in his throat, “Yeah. Just- Just let me choose the right moment, please.”

You agreed, you’d let him do it when he was ready. Waiting clearly wasn't an issue you had.

Another shift had passed and the truth still remained hidden. Both of your courages were shattered when the bell had gone off just as you’d told Bobby you needed to talk. 

Now here you were back at Buck’s apartment, lying on top of him in nothing but his shirt and a pair of panties. Your head resting on his bare chest, the sheets beneath the pair of you messy and tangled. 

Bucks fingers lazily grazing the exposed skin on your back, shirt ridden up just above your mid section. It had been a tough shift, especially for Buck. One call bringing up the traumas of his childhood. This, exactly how you were right now, was what he needed to unwind.

“I love you, sweetheart.”, he whispers. The first time those three words had been said, though previously unspoken it was obvious. Obvious in the way you touched, the way you spoke, the way you simply existed with one another. 

You turn your head to look at his face, lips twitching up into a wide smile. You see the light rosy blush dusting his cheeks. You adored when he looked this way, flustered, comfortable, in love. 

“I love you too.”, you murmur back, grin widening even as you shift higher up his chest to place pecks against his lips. 

The blonde tucks your hair behind your ear, eyes roaming across your face in admiration. “I’m sorry if I’ve been making you doubt lately. Doubt us I mean.” 

Your brows furrow, you had an idea of what he meant but you weren’t expecting an apology. You knew Buck always had the best intentions at heart even if he had a funny way of showing it.

“I want Bobby to know. I do, god, I really do. I want him to know how much I love his daughter.”, you go to speak but he continues, “He should have known a long time ago. I’m sorry that you’ve had to lie to him, to keep things from him.” 

You look at him, look into his eyes. You reach up, thumb stroking lightly against the stubble of his jaw. “It’s not just you who didn’t want him to find out. Don’t put all of this onto yourself.” 

“Yeah but it’s me who keeps stalling.”, he sighs, fingers toying with the band of your underwear absently.

You scatter kisses across his chest, “Think how good it’ll be when we don’t have to hide it.” 

He groans lowly at the feeling of your lips against his skin, “Trust me, I do. Can’t wait to be able to touch you, kiss you whenever I want. Brag about being your boyfriend.” 

You can’t help the giggle that escapes. “Yeah? Who exactly are you planning on bragging to?”, you tease, smirking up at him as you rest your head back down on his chest.

“Only everyone. Whoever will listen, and even the ones who don’t.” 

You shake your head grinning, pressing your lips back to his. Your fingers rake through his curls as you press yourself closer, deepening the kiss.

The kiss is only broken by the sound of knocking at the front door. You pull apart and Buck groans, rolling his eyes with ever the attitude.

“Expecting someone?”, you ask, quirking an eyebrow at the blond at which he shakes his head. 

“Maybe we should just ignore it.”, he mumbles, fingers tangling into your hair to tilt your head to the side, leaning up to start kissing your neck.

His attempt at keeping you in bed fails. “Want me to get it?”, you tease, backing away in only his shirt that hangs just at your thighs making it look like you have nothing under.

“Go for it, baby.”, he hums watching you walk away, taking in the way you look in his clothes. As you reach the bottom of the stairs Evan rolls over and grabs his phone from the nightstand, scrolling through his notifications he hasn’t checked since finishing his shift.

Meanwhile you trail down the stairs of his loft, over to the door in a happy daze, grinning away at your boyfriend's previous affections. 

Stupidly, you don’t bother looking through the peephole, instead opting to just open the door. You had been expecting anyone but who you were met with. 

Your face instantly drops, hand on the door knob stilling. 

Buck by now after reading the texts on his phone has raced down the stairs to stand beside you, his face equally as mortified. 

“Cap.”

“Dad.”

You both stutter simultaneously, stumbling on words and thoughts. 

Bobby’s face mirrors your own shock. Awkward silence passes as no one knows what to say. Your father is the first to break it.

“I see I interrupted something.”

Buck, still shirtless with only his sweats and boxers hanging low on his hips, is quick to jump into damage control, though he doesn’t do a very good job of it. “We can explain, I swear.”

A disappointed sigh escapes Bobby, “I bet you can.” His eyes shift away, “I’d rather have this conversation with the two of you fully clothed.” 

“Right.”, Evan nods, lips pressed in a tight line. His hands come down on the sides of your upper arms, guiding you back towards the stairs, sensing you were pretty much frozen in place by embarrassment. 

While the pair of you go upstairs, Bobby makes his way into the small apartment, sitting at the table while he waits. 

You make eye contact with Buck as you pull on a pair of pants and he a shirt. With the apartment being so tiny you couldn’t say anything, not with your father and captain downstairs. The loft barely even being a real room, lacking a wall and door.

Anxiety radiated off you both. Though part of you couldn’t help but feel relief at everything being out in the open. Or at least soon to be. 

When you come back down the stairs you see Bobby with his head resting in his hand, elbow on the dining table he’s sitting at. His gaze is distant, as if looking back and trying to find all the signs he’d missed. He turns his attention to the pair of you as you sit down with him. 

Where to even start? How were you meant to tell your father that this started as a spontaneous hook up. You didn’t want him to know that and you’d guess Buck didn’t either. 

“How long has this been going on?”, he asks, motioning between you and Evan. 

You gulp, “A while.” 

Bobby’s eyes narrow, “How long is ‘a while’?”

You risk a glance at your boyfriend who’s turned at least a shade paler. 

Buck swallows down the nervous lump in his throat, “A few months.” 

The older man’s eyes widen, he rubs his forehead like this whole thing was giving him a headache. 

“Are you dating?” 

You nod immediately, hopefully the fact you were dating and this wasn’t some meaningless fling would count for something. Or it could make the fact it was hidden worse. 

“Yes- yeah we are.”

Buck echoes you with a simple but tense, “Yeah.”

Bobby exhales heavily through his nose, nodding slowly like he’s trying to absorb the information piece by piece. There’s no outburst, no immediate anger. Just that furrowed brow of his and a thick silence that fills the room.

“Dad, I’m so sorry we didn’t tell you-”, 

“We wanted to, we really did, Cap.”, Buck butts in panicking. 

Bobby sighs, exuding disappointment and betrayal, “Why didn’t you tell me? Who else knows?”

You wince, not wanting to say everyone but him. His hurt is evident and it makes your heart clench to know you're the cause of it. 

“We were worried. We got in our heads too much.”, you admit. “We’ve been planning on telling you… Things just haven’t been going right. You ignore the last part of the question, hoping he doesn’t realise. He probably knew the answer without needing to be told anyway.  

“Bobby, it’s my fault. I’ve been scared to tell you, putting it off for as long as I could because I didn’t want to screw anything up between us. You’re family, like a dad to me and I didn’t want to risk losing that.”, Buck’s sincere and Bobby can tell. His words come out like a plea, begging his captain to forgive him. 

Obviously it wasn’t only the blonds fault, you playing your own equal part in it but the fact that Buck was trying to take all the blame was both heartwarming and a little frustrating. 

After a moment of deep thought Bobby breaks his silence. “I get it, I do.” Buck relaxes slightly until he hears the next word to come from his mouth. 

“But,” Bobby continues, his voice tinged with that firm, fatherly authority, “you should’ve come to me sooner. Both of you. I may be your captain, Buck, but I’m also her father. I deserved to know before now. And I deserved to be told, I shouldn’t have had to walk in on the two of you.”

You sigh, speaking quietly, “Of course you did.” A beat passes before anyone speaks again, tension high in the room. 

“You kept this from me for months,” Bobby says, a tinge of frustration bleeding through. “You’ve lied, made excuses anytime I was getting suspicious or getting close to the truth. And I’m guessing you’ve had the crew lie to me at one time or another to cover for you.” 

Shaky breaths seep from you and Buck, both looking guilty like two children being scolded. You fidget with your hands in your lap, listening to every disappointed word your father says. 

“I’m sorry, Bobby. I really love her.”, Buck’s voice cracks. His eyes shine with emotion, watery like he was almost about to cry. Your cheeks warm at his words, probably turning beetroot red. You could get used to hearing him say that. 

“I don’t doubt it, and I can’t really say I’m all that surprised. I’ve seen the way you look at each other.”, Bobby admits with slight amusement, a small grin sneaking onto his face that he tries to contain.

You both can’t help the way the corners of your lips turn up at that.

“I thought I was imagining it. Or maybe I just didn’t want to see it.”, Bobby sighs. “Even though I feel betrayed, I am still happy for the both of you. I’m just hurt that you had so little faith in me.”

Your boyfriend finds your hand under the table, squeezing it tightly but reassuringly. 

“I’m sorry dad, if we could go back do things differently then I definitely would.”

Bobby nods, his expression softening. 

“No more secrets.”, Buck announces, standing up. Bobby and yourself do the same. 

Buck holds out his hand to Bobby, not as his captain but as your father, seeking approval. Approval he should have asked for a long time ago. 

Bobby waits an uncomfortable amount of time to take his hand, almost to the point of you thinking he wasn't going to. Really it was just to make Buck itch.  

They shake hands, Bobby pulling Buck into a firm hug. “I’d say you better treat her right, Evan, but I know you will.”, your father says firmly, still a warning. 

“Wouldn’t have it any other way. I love her with all my heart.”, Buck smiles as they pull apart. He’s still tense but nowhere near as bad as earlier. 

Next he pulls you into his arms tightly, the kind of fatherly hug that says I’m still your dad first, no matter what. His chin rests briefly against the top of your head, and you feel his chest rise and fall in a heavy sigh. 

“Promise me the next time something big happens you’ll let your old man know, okay?”, he murmurs not letting you go just yet. You both knew that sometimes he couldn’t help but still see you as his little girl, that was something he’d have to work on. 

“I will, I love you.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, “I love you too, sweetheart.” He pulls away as he adds, “You too, Buck.”, with a teasing grin that makes both you and Buck chuckle. This felt nice. The three of you back to being close. No more secrets, nothing hidden. 

After a moment your brow furrows, a question popping into your head. “Why did you come here in the first place?”

“Thought I’d check on Buck after that call today. I see now that he was in good hands all along.”

“Well that was…”, Buck trails off not knowing how to put it into words. His hands rest on your hips as he sits on the edge of the bed, you standing in front of him. Your thumb rubs soothing circles on his cheek, the other running through his hair in the way he likes as you look down at him lovingly. 

After Bobby had left it was like a heavy weight had been lifted from your shoulders and from your relationship. Of course it would take a little while for things to fall into a new normal but at least now you weren’t carrying some big secret. 

“Well what now, Evan Buckely?”, you hum. The use of his full name makes Buck smirk, he grabs you and brings you down onto the mattress, settling on top of you between your legs. 

His smirk doesn’t falter, that crooked grin you love so much staying right where it is. “Guess now we get to figure out what being public actually means.”

“How about we start by not answering the door half naked?”, you suggest. He pauses his attempt at lifting your shirt off like he just got caught doing something he’s not supposed to.

“Now, who’s fault was that, huh?”, he teases, kissing down your stomach.

“Yeah, yeah. Lesson learned.”

...

a/n: lowkey hate this but i say that about everything i write. fuck it we ball.

omg i should have added maddie in this what the freak

[imaginesfordifferentfandoms]

Froze

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Prompt -  "You're one of us now."

Notes - Season 8, Episode 15 Spoilers // it's a bad week to be a tlou and 911 fan but at least I'm uploading because of it

You’d been in LA for six months now and still hadn’t gotten used to it. For the first few months you’d just sit in your apartment, not leaving unless you absolutely had to, which between all the delivery services out there was rare. 

Eventually though you had to get on with your life. You had to start the fresh beginning you’d come here for. 

So you forced yourself to start functioning like a proper human being, forced yourself to leave the safety of your apartment and go to a coffee shop a few blocks down the road, forced yourself to go for a walk along the pier, forced yourself to go grocery shopping. 

To anyone else it wasn’t an achievement, it was just everyday life but to you it was big. 

You’d been reckless back when you were a part of Station 252, an awful relationship, one that had left you a shell of yourself, that had seen you putting yourself into unnecessary situations both on and off the job. Eventually your reckless behaviour had been enough to cause a call to go wrong, people had been hurt because you weren’t focused, because your mind was so far away from the scene. 

Yet they hadn’t fired you, you’d been transferred out to LA. You hadn’t spoken to anyone from the new fire house but the Captain had reached out when you got here, assuring you the job was there when you were ready to take the test that would tell you if you were stable or not to go back. 

Six months in LA and you had finally felt ready to take it. You were still broken, still had to deal with the fears and the ghosts from your old life but you wanted to go back to work. 

And so you did. 

You passed the test, shocking even yourself when they’d given you the all clear and spent the morning getting ready, feeling like a bag of nerves as you walked into your new fire house. 

You saw some of the team had gathered up the stairs, two of the men cooking whilst the others sat at the table, all five of them talking and laughing and it made you relax slightly, calmed the thunderous beating of your heart as you climbed the stairs and stood just beyond the scene.

The older of the two men cooking was first to notice you, the small furrow of his eyebrows as he looked at you was quickly replaced by a kind smile, drawing the attention of the others. 

“Um, hi, can we help you?” The other man cooking asked and before you had a chance to reply the man with the kind smile answered. 

“This is Y/N, right?” He asked you and you nodded, watching as he stepped around the counter and made his way over to you. “Y/N here is joining us from New York.”

“No way, that’s so cool! Why didn’t you tell us?” The man asked before turning to you. “Welcome to the 118. I’m Buck, that there is Eddie, then we have Chim and Hen and that there is our Captain, Bobby Nash.”  

You smiled at everyone, giving a polite wave and was shocked by how genuine your smile was. 

“Buck, watch the food, I’ll be right back.” Bobby said as he gestured for you to follow him to his office and you felt your stomach drop. 

“Relax, I’m not here to pick apart your life up in New York.” Bobby said as you both sat down and you nodded, the tension not leaving your shoulders. “I am here though if you need anything. Doesn’t matter what it is, you need me, you pick up that phone and call.”

“That’s it?” You couldn’t help but ask, feeling taken aback with how seriously he’d seemed to mean his words. “No list of rules for me to stick to, no threats looming over my head of what happens if I ever spiral again?”

“You’re gonna spiral again, Y/N. One day you could be great and then the next something’s gonna hit you, it might be your old life, it might be something that triggers you on the job. When that happens, you come to me. I can’t promise I can fix it but I can promise you won’t be alone.” Bobby told you, his voice kind and soft but filled with so much conviction that you trusted him without knowing him. 

“That’s it?” You asked softly in disbelief causing him to chuckle. 

“That’s it. You came here for a new start, Y/N, I’m not treating you any different to how I treat the others. You’re one of us now.” 

His words had your eyes stinging but you kept yourself composed and nodded, choking out a thank you that had the man grinning and gesturing for you to follow him back to the others, Bobby’s hand holding your shoulder the whole time and never straying too far as you got to know the team. 

Things had been good, it had been a year since you moved to LA and six months since you’d become a part of the 118, the firehouse feeling more like home than anywhere else ever had. 

Things had been good. 

Then you had a call that left your hands shaking. It hadn’t even been a particularly bad call to begin with, it was a building fire but it was easy enough to get in and out of, passing civilians down to safety without trouble.

Then the building shook and your heart leapt, remembering the last time you’d been in this situation. 

It was the last call before you were sent away and you hadn’t bothered securing your safety equipment properly. It was routine enough that you thought you’d be in and out but then just as you picked a child up ready to get him out, the building shook violently and you felt yourself falling. 

Thankfully, despite the drop, you’d kept the kid safe, hurting yourself in the process but that didn’t matter. 

It wasn’t long after that you found yourself no longer a member of the 252. 

“Hey Y/N!” You heard Buck call through the radio and it snapped you back to reality, your hands gripping your safety harness so hard your knuckles were white. “Y/N, do you copy?”

Your throat was dry, you opened your mouth but couldn’t answer, the panic had already built up and worsened as the building shook again.

You knew you had to get out, so why couldn’t you move?

“Y/N?” Buck tried again, the rest of the 118 stood outside looking up at the building and Buck looked at Bobby desperately. 

“I’m going in.” Bobby said when you failed to respond, watching Buck shake his head but didn’t protest when Bobby gave him a sharp look. 

Bobby made his way through the building, the smoke blocking his view for the most part but he found you easy enough, you were frozen to the spot, one hand gripping your safety harness whilst the other held the wall like it was the only thing grounding you. 

“Hey kid,” Bobby called and he watched as your head snapped up, your wild, panicked gaze meeting his calm one. “You’re okay, you did good. We got everyone out and nobody got hurt.”

He watched you take a moment to process his words before you nodded, not taking your eyes off of him. 

“You did good but we need to leave, Y/N.” He said softly, reaching out a hand for you to grab.

You looked at Bobby’s hand, steady and still, and watched as your own finally reached for him, shaking violently, only stopping when Bobby wrapped his around yours. 

“That’s my girl.” He smiled over at you and you couldn’t stop the ragged breath that left you, body on autopilot as you let Bobby lead you out, just in time for the building to crumble. 

The team immediately encompassed you and despite how foggy your mind felt, despite how overwhelming it was, you couldn’t stop the warm feeling that spread through you at how much they cared. 

Plus Bobby’s hand was still in yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze. 

Bobby was tempted to pull you into his office once you’d all arrived back to the house but he stopped himself. This was the first time you’d faltered since being here and he wanted to see if you would come to him on your own. 

It took nearly an hour but Bobby had to fight back a smile when he saw you approaching him, clearly nervous but his words from the first time you’d met had been playing in your head since you got back. 

“I froze.” You said after a few minutes of sitting next to Bobby in silence.

“You froze.” Bobby agreed and you looked over at him, his eyes as kind as they always were, a steady, unshakable force that you needed. 

“What if I can’t do this job anymore? What if every time a building shakes all I see is me falling, see the kid in my arms sobbing in fear?” You asked, tears stinging your eyes. 

“You can do this job, Y/N.” Bobby told you and his words were so certain that you believed them too, a shuddering breath escaping you. “Everyone got out safely because you made sure they did. You froze, it happens. That’s the beauty of the 118, you freeze? It doesn’t matter, we’re all here for each other, if you can’t get out on your own, we’ll come get you.”

You let out a small sob and Bobby couldn’t stop himself from wrapping his arms around you, smiling as you buried yourself into his chest. 

“I told you, you’re one of us. We’re here to you, you’re not alone anymore, Y/N.” 

“I don’t deserve it.” You mumbled into his chest and Bobby sighed, running his hand up and down your back. 

“Everyone on this team has done something they think they can’t atone for but they can. This team is never going to hold your actions over you, they’re gonna drag you through the tunnel to the other side, trust me I know that better than anyone.” Bobby told you softly and you looked up at him with a shaky smile. 

“I’m glad I got sent here, couldn’t imagine not having you by my side.” You told him, smiling as he pulled you further into his arms and held you tightly. 

“Me too, kid.” He murmured softly, not at all surprised by how much he’d meant those words, between you and Buck the father instincts he thought were long gone were being dragged up to the surface, protective of the two youngest of his team. 

You’d meant it though, despite only being a part of the 118 for six months, it was hard to believe you’d gone so long without knowing Bobby. His kind, steady presence was what you depended on, the way it was so easy to talk to him, easy to trust him. You couldn’t picture a world without him anymore. 

Despite all the bad things that had happened in New York, despite all the hurt and guilt and regret you carried, you were glad for it because without it you never would have met Bobby Nash and that was the biggest tragedy of them all.

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