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chicgeekgirl89 · 1 year

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Glitter and Be Gay

Fandom: 911 Lone Star

Characters: Carlos Reyes, T.K. Strand, Lexi Mitchell

Rating: K

Summary: When Carlos gets called to an incident at a Valentine's themed drag brunch the fallout is much worse than he could have anticipated.

Read on AO3

Of all the things Carlos had imagined doing today, getting called to a drag brunch was not one of them. And so far, it was not going well.

“Ma’am, I promise we are just here to help,” Carlos says for the third time holding up his hands in a non-threatening manner. They still haven’t even made it past the doorway, but he can hear some kind of ruckus going on inside.

“And I am telling you that if you keep calling me ‘ma’am’ we’re going to have words honey,” the queen tells him, her rhinestoned top glittering under the lights. “The name is Peaches.”

“Look, someone in here called 911,” Lexi says. “We are obligated to at least check it out.”

“My girls can handle it,” Peaches says, brushing them off. “We don’t need police in here and we don’t want police in here.”

“Peaches,” Carlos tries again, “if someone in there needs help and you don’t let us do our jobs, there’s a good chance you’ll be held liable. Please let us through.”

There’s a massive crash and several people cry out, startling Peaches. “Oh my god!”

“Okay, we’re coming in,” Carlos says, pushing past her.

The space is crowded, a long runway cutting through the middle of the tables and leading to a stage at the far end of the room. Every surface is covered in pink and red, feathers, confetti, and flowers making the space look like the inside of Cupid’s bedroom. But the most notable feature is the queen onstage who is in a wrestling match with what appears to be a very drunk woman over a bow and arrow. “Doll I don’t know who you think you are, but nobody touches my props!” the queen says sharply.

“I gotta fall in loooooooooove!” the woman shouts back, tightening her hold.

“Get it Loretta!” someone else whoops and Carlos follows the sound to a table right next to the runway full of other inebriated women, clearly Tracy’s entourage.

“What in the hell…” Lexi says and Carlos has to agree. Just when you think you’ve seen everything, Austin surprises you with chaos at a Valentine’s themed drag brunch. Perfect.

“Okay, ma’am, we’re going to need you to come down,” Carlos calls over the din of voices and music. He strides closer and holds out a hand. “Come on, off the stage please.”

“But I need to fall in love!” the woman, Loretta, yells and Carlos wonders if she’s high as well as drunk.

“Babydoll, ain’t nobody gonna want you like this,” the drag queen says, looking like she’s starting to break a sweat.

Loretta practically growls at her. “You are the rudest Cupid I’ve ever met.”

“Okay, you know what? Fine. All yours sweetcheeks.” The queen lets go and Loretta stumbles back a few steps, holding up her prize triumphantly as her friends scream and cheer her success.

“Great, you got what you wanted, let’s come down and let the professionals finish the show,” Carlos coaxes.

But Loretta isn’t persuaded. Instead she starts parading back and forth, the bow and arrow being leveled at random audience members.

“I think we’re going to need paramedics on this one,” Carlos says and Lexi nods, turning away to call into dispatch on her radio. “Ma’am! Please get down before you hurt yourself or someone else!”

“Are you going to get her off the stage or what?” Peaches says as she pushes her way into the room, hands on her hips.

“I thought you didn’t want us here,” Lexi says.

“I don’t. But since you claim you keep the peace, go right ahead. Get us some peace.” Peaches gestures toward the stage where Loretta has now found a feather boa and is using it to put on quite a show.

Carlos and Lexi exchange looks. “I don’t do stages,” she says.

He squint at her. “What do you mean you ‘don’t do stages’?”

“My mom tried to put me in pageants when I was five. Didn’t end well.”

“Oh my—-fine,” Carlos says with a roll of his eyes. He walks toward the stage and uses one hand to hoist himself up. “Okay, ma’am, let’s go. You need to come with me right now.”

“Hey!” she says. “You’re ruining my show.”

“It’s not your show,” Carlos says patiently. “So you need to come down. Let’s get you off this stage, maybe have some water and we’ll see how you feel.”

Loretta flips her boa around her neck and sends him a menacing look. “You’re stealing my spotlight.”

“Loretta,” Carlos says. “This is the last time I’m going to ask. Please come down off the stage with me.”

“No!” she yells, throwing the bow and arrow at him and then taking off through the curtains into the backstage.

Carlos ducks under the projectile, then follows her into a narrow, dimly lit back area. There are clothing racks full of dresses and props, along with random furniture pieces, lighting, and sound equipment. He trips over a cord on the floor and when he regains his balance, he’s lost sight of his quarry. “Loretta!” he calls. “I just want to make sure you’re okay! Please come out and let’s talk.”

There’s no response other than the sounds of the crowd on the other side of the curtain. Lexi still hasn’t made an appearance, god only knows where she’s gotten to, so Carlos slowly starts to move down the hall to his left. “Loretta?” he calls again.

He opens the first door to find a small utility closet. He’s closing it back up again when there’s a creak further down the hallway. He begins to move toward it and then the next thing he knows he’s being shoved from behind into an open dressing room where he goes crashing face first into a vanity.

The world explodes in a cloud of white and Carlos sucks in a breath only to begin immediately coughing and choking. He rolls over and blinks and for a moment he thinks he’s gone blind, because he can’t see anything but a silvery haze all around him.

There’s a scuffle happening nearby and when his vision finally clears he sees Loretta on the ground, Lexi working cuffs onto her wrists from behind. “You are under arrest for assaulting an officer,” Lexi is telling her.

“I just want to fall in love,” Loretta says pathetically as Lexi pulls her upright.

“Where the hell were you?” Carlos gasps, struggling to sit up in the debris from the smashed table.

“I ran out to the stage door,” Lexi says. “Thought I’d cut her off.”

“Yeah well, next time, maybe get over your stage fright and stick with me,” Carlos grouses, trying to asses whether he’s broken anything.

“You okay?” Lexi asks as he gets to his feet.

“Yeah I think so—“ That’s when he catches sight of her face. “What?” he asks. “What’s wrong.”

“Oh. Oh Reyes…”

XXX

T.K. is putting the finishing touches on dinner when his phone rings, one of his favorite pictures of Carlos lighting up the screen. “Hey baby,” he says, tucking the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he adds a little more seasoning to the pot. “You almost here? Dinner’s just about done.”

There’s silence on the other end of the line. He pulls it away and checks to make sure the call is still connected. “Helloooo, Carlos, can you hear me?”

T.K. hears a sigh. “Can you open the door please?”

“Open the door? Open…open our door? The loft door?”

Another sigh. “Yes.”

T.K. turns off the stove with a frown. “Did you break both your arms today? Why do you need me to open the door?”

“T.K. just, please. Open the door.”

Confused as anything, T.K. hangs up, crosses the loft, and undoes the lock. “Okay, I’m opening the door, what the heck—“ the question on T.K.’s lips dies immediately as he catches sight of his fiancé. “Oh my…”

“Please don’t,” Carlos says between gritted teeth.

T.K. sucks in a breath and tries to hold back the giggle bubbling up inside him. “Okay um, I, hi, how are you? How was your day?”

“Not great.”

“Is it…Carlos…why are you covered in glitter?”

It’s everywhere. Scattered into his curls, across his face, down his neck and arms. T.K. can’t see his legs, but he has a feeling they’re as equally spangled as the rest of his husband. He looks like he was attacked by a Joann’s Fabrics.

“There was an incident at a drag show,” Carlos tells him, looking like it is costing him everything just to get the words out.

“An incident. Like you were…hugged for too long by a queen?”

“Like I was shoved into a brand new shipment of body glitter,” Carlos says shortly.

T.K. takes a long moment to process that. “Mhmm. Yeah. Okay. That um, that must have been, upsetting.”

“It wasn’t great,” Carlos huffs.

“Did you get hurt?”

“No,” he says shortly, then thinks for a second. “A couple bruises maybe. I’m fine.”

“Well that’s what’s most important,” T.K. says. “So, are you going to come inside or…?”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t.” This is the most bizarre conversation they’ve ever had.

Carlos looks almost like he’s in pain. “If I come inside then there will be glitter everywhere. Forever.”

“I don’t think it will be that bad,” T.K. tells him.

“T.K.” His name is ground out, meaning Carlos has reached his maximum level of frustration. “Glitter is a menace. Once it gets somewhere you can’t get it off.”

“And that’s what I had to open the door. Because you don’t want to touch it.”

“Yes.”

“So you’re going to what? Stand out here in the hallway forever?”

“I…don’t know.”

There’s a long moment of silence. “Did you try taking a shower?”

“Of course I tried taking a shower!” Carlos snaps. “I took three showers at the station!”

T.K. grimaces. If this is what he looks like after three showers…he might have a point. “We could take you to a car wash?”

This gets him a withering glare. “T.K. be serious.”

“Babe, I genuinely don’t know what you expect me to do right now,” T.K. says, once again fighting a laugh. “I think you’re just going to have to come inside and deal with the sparkly consequences.”

Carlos hesitates, so T.K. slowly reaches out and takes his work bag from his fingertips. “Come on. It will be okay. I promise.”

“You’ll help me vacuum?”

“Absolutely,” T.K. says, taking a step backward into the loft. “I will help you vacuum and scrub and soak whatever you need me to.” That makes him think of something. “How’s your uniform?”

“DOA,” Carlos says in response. He sighs another heavy sigh and takes a step inside, shoulders hunching up like he’s trying to stay as small as possible.

“Well that’s a bummer. You don’t think it could be a new, softer, more approachable look for the APD?” T.K. catches the menacing look on Carlos’ face and immediately backtracks. “Sorry, sorry. Not a time for jokes. I’ll stop.”

He’s definitely calling Lexi later to see if he can get the body cam footage.

#Tarlos #Tarlos Fic #Carlos Reyes #TK Strand #911 Lone Star #911lsfic #Glitter and Be Gay #I don't even know what this is #Humor #Fluff #Nonsense

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thelibrarylesstrektraveled · 1 year

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To The Victor Chapter Three - Can't Be Claimed

Summary: Although Omegas had won the legal battle for equal rights, society was slow to catch up. Thought to be the weakest of the genders, they struggled to find opportunities that Alphas and Betas took for granted. Known as the Guillotine, Emmaline Beaumont was woman with a secret. Head of her family’s company; she was smart, shrewd, and tough as nails. At sixteen she presented as Omega and she’s hidden it ever since. Suppressants and hormone reassignment therapy allowed her to live her life as the Alpha her family needed her to be. The perfect solution, so long as she never allowed herself to be claimed. As the President of Winchester Inc. Dean’s professional life was golden. As an unmated Alpha nearing forty, he was restless. Charming and devastatingly handsome, Dean was rarely without female company, but he wanted more. He wanted what his parents had. Someone made especially for him. His match, his true mate. Finding her on a trip to New York had been an unexpected dream come true, but no one ever said the road to love was easy.

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!OFC, Dean x OFC, Dean Winchester x OFC

Characters: Dean Winchester, OFC, Sam Winchester, Jessica Moore, John Winchester, Jody Mills

Warnings: ABO dynamics, Heat/Rut cycles, Smut (Unprotected sex, knotting, oral sex, claiming bites), hurt/comfort, sickfic, hospitals and medical talk, fluff and angst, age difference (Dean is 39, OFC is 27), True mates, self hate (OFC struggles with gender)

Chapter Three: Can't Be Claimed

Word Count: 3348

Masterlist

To The Victor Masterlist

The twenty minutes it took for help to arrive were nothing short of agony for Dean. He kept Emma cradled close. Whispering sweet words of encouragement in her ear, telling her to hold on, that help was on the way. She never responded, but he had to believe that she could hear him or at least knew he was there. That he wasn’t leaving her. That he was going to take care of her.

God, she’s so cold!

Dean tugged the blankets closer around the two of them and rubbed her arms roughly, desperate to infuse every ounce of his own heat to her chilled flesh. Give her his strength. Surround her with his scent. In his mind, he kept going over the conversation with Emma’s sister.

Emma can’t be claimed. Family doctor treating her since childhood.

Just what the hell did that mean? If it hadn’t been for the insistent tone in Jess’ voice, Dean would have called 911 instead. As it was, he was doubting his decision.

He pressed a kiss to Emma’s temple, “Keep fighting sweetheart, I’m right here.”

The door to the suite opened without so much as a knock of warning and a short, slight man entered. He wore a slim black suit and tie with a matching fedora pulled down over dark hair. His unsmiling face was sharply featured with beady eyes and a crooked, hawk-like nose. Everything about him was severe and unpleasant. The expression he wore was a mix of displeasure and annoyance. Going by the classic leather satchel in his hand, this man must be the family doctor.

Dean shifted Emma’s unconscious body off his chest and stood, “You the doctor?”

The man removed his hat and placed it on the table along with his bag, “I am Doctor Lancaster, and you are the Alpha who caused all the trouble.” He never spared Dean a glance as he rifled through his bag. His tone suggested an absolute disgust with the situation.

Dean crossed his arms over his chest. He didn’t appreciate being judged by a gargoyle in cheap mortician’s suit. Especially not when his mate’s life was hanging by a thread. “Yup, that’s me. So, are you able to help her?”

Lancaster moved over his patient with efficiency. After he took a few vitals, he drew out a vial and syringe from his bag of tricks. “I believe so, it was a good thing you called when you did. Another hour and she’d be dead.” He swiped an alcohol swab over the crook of Emma’s elbow and administered a hefty dose of the drug.

“What are you giving her?”

“Botox.”

The Alpha didn’t appreciate the sarcasm. He let out a low, menacing growl and clenched his jaw so that the muscle there twitched.

The doctor was equally unimpressed with the show of aggression. “It’s a combination of adrenaline, beta blockers and hormone booster.”

Dean frowned as he realized the implication, “She was on suppressants?”

“Ah! An Alpha with a brain! Nice to know at least one of you rutting beasts can think with something other than your nether regions.” Lancaster checked Emma’s pulse one last time. With a satisfied nod, he shut his bag and stood.

“Your Omega is going to be fine. Her temperature is already rising, and her heat cycle will now continue as normal.” The doctor gave Dean an appraising once over. “Judging by your own state, I’d say you are already aware of that.”

Dean was loathed to admit this quack was right about anything. The cavalier way he was treating a medical emergency should have him barred from practicing medicine anywhere in the civilized world. The fact that the emergency was his mate, made Dean want to rip the man’s throat out on principle alone. Yet, the little troll had done something right, because he could now pick up Emma’s scent. It was intoxicating, and stronger than it had ever been. Apple orchards and magnolia blossoms, it made his mouth water. His rut, that had been threatening since meeting Emma was now in full swing. His thoughts were quickly giving way to is Alpha instincts; protect, care for, and knot his mate.

Lancaster already had his hand on the door, knowing his presence wouldn’t be tolerated by a rutting Alpha for much longer. “She’ll wake in a couple of hours. When she does, the best treatment for her, is you.”

It was the faint, high pitched whine that finally pulled Emma from her dreamless sleep. She felt warm and secure. That lovely scent of sun-warmed cedar forest tickled her nose and she sighed in contentment, snuggling towards it.

“’Mega?”

The worry edged fear in that deep voice had her frowning before she even opened her eyes. When she did, Dean’s face was mere inches from hers, his handsome features tight with stress. The anxiety that rolled off him in waves made her heart clench. He was terrified.

She brought her hand out from under the nest of blankets and threaded it through Dean’s hair, “Alpha.”

Dean crushed her to his chest, his whole body trembled, weak with relief. After that wretched doctor left, Dean had ridded them both of their clothes and bundled them up under a mountain of blankets. He kept their bodies pressed as closely together as possible, his instincts telling him skin to skin contact was crucial to his Omega’s recovery. A warm, safe nest for just the two of them where he could protect her and look after her properly.

He scented her deeply, desperate to drown himself in the sweet fragrance. “Thank God,” he murmured over and over again.

“Shh, it’s alright. I’m alright,” she soothed, brushing kisses against his forehead. She held him tight as he shook in her arms. A virile, strong Alpha like him wouldn’t be scared by much, and that told her all she needed to know about how critical things had gotten.

He had taken care of her, gotten her help and no doubt saved her life. Now it was her turn to take care of him, “I’ve got you; I’m right here.”

He kissed her roughly, stealing her words along with her breath. Desperation and urgency in every heated pass of his mouth over hers. His hands groped her aggressively, pawing at any bit of softness he could find. It took him several minutes to regain his control. He abruptly pulled away, panting for composure he would not easily grasp.

“I’m sorry… sorry.” He let his forehead fall against hers as his chest heaved. His voice was low and hoarse. “You need rest.”

Emma studied Dean’s pinched features. The tension coiled uncomfortably, barely contained, under the surface, sweat dotted his skin and his rock-hard length twitched between them. His eyes were nearly black, overtaken by the hormones and lust ravaging his system. This whole mess had triggered his rut, God knows how long he had been suffering with it while she was unconscious. The added worry that his mate was dying had made it nearly unbearable.

Her heart broke for him then and with it came guilt. This whole thing was her fault. She knew the consequences of doing anything with an Alpha while she was still taking the treatments. It was reckless and irresponsible and unforgivably selfish.

She cupped the side of his face, gently brushing her thumb over the ridge of his cheekbone. He closed his eyes and leaned into her soothing touch. “I don’t need rest. I only need you.”

“No,” he muttered, trying to ignore the urges running through him. “I’m rough. Too rough. Don’t wanna hurt you.”

She continued to stroke his face, calming and soothing. “You won’t hurt me, I’m your Omega. And your Omega is a strong Omega.”

Dean mustered up a final ounce of control and looked into her deep, blue eyes. The comfort and consent he saw there eased the tightness in his chest. “’Mega mine.”

“Yours.” Emma confirmed softly and brushed her lips feather-light over his, “Mate now. Rest later.”

It lasted five days in total. Each of them seamlessly providing what the other needed most. Alpha and Omega. Balanced. Each a perfect counterpoint to the other. They relished in the joy of being together. Every experience was exciting and new, every touch satisfied in ways that surprised. Very few words were spoken, their connection was so strong that it over-rode the need to talk. That knowing, that deep down in the soul kind of certainty was staggering. The intimacy of their bond was deeper and more complex than either of them had ever known.

Now that their respective heat and rut cycles had ended, they were left with the rather mundane task of how to weave their lives together. These were the boring, yet very necessary details of the real world. The world outside of cozy one they’d created within the confines of the hotel suite. Neither of them were particularly excited at the prospect.

“So, going by this hotel room we’ve been honeymooning in, I’m guessing you’re not a New Yorker.”

Dean caught her gaze in the mirror as he deftly buttoned up the crisp, white dress shirt and smiled. Even her reflection caused his stomach to flip over. “Nope, Chicago. Born and bred. You?”

“Manhattan.”

“You ever been to the windy city?”

“A couple of times,” she shrugged, tucking her legs up demurely under her backside. “It’s not bad for fly-over country.”

“Fly-over country?” Dean scoffed, “Chicago is in the heartland, the Midwest. Everything a big city has to offer with access to wide open spaces. Way better than this uptight sand bar.”

“Is that so? Then what’s a guy like you doing slumming it around the boroughs? Cruising for a mate?”

“Nah, I just got lucky.” Dean plopped down to sit beside her on the bed and kissed her loudly. “I travel a lot for work. I’m in New York once a month or so.”

“Will you come back more now?” She asked hopefully, the thought of only seeing him once a month had her heart twisting.

“Well, I thought that you’d come back with me. You know, live with me in Chicago.” Seeing her face fall, he rushed to reassure her, hoping that he wasn’t bungling things too much. “I’m sure you will need some time to get things tied up here, but I want you with me ‘Mega. And we can come back as often as you like.”

“Why don’t you move here with me?”

Dean nearly scoffed, but the earnest look in her eyes suggested a softer approach might be better. “Sweetheart, my business is in Chicago. I make a good living, an excellent living actually. I have an apartment there along with some property in the country. I’ll take good care of you; you won’t have to worry about anything ever again.”

She raised her chin to look Dean square in the eye, “My business is in New York. I make an excellent living and I own a beautiful Brownstone on the upper east side. I don’t have a country cottage, but I’m willing to work that into our negotiations.”

“Negotiations?!” He sat back with a laugh, “You are something else, you know that? Omegas don’t negotiate living arrangements with their Alphas.”

She leveled her gaze, “Yours does.”

His mate wasn’t one to give in easily, and he loved that about her. Her spirit. Her fight. She challenged him, made him earn her submission. Made him prove he was worthy of her. He was happy to oblige her.

He leaned in close, his mouth centimeters from hers but not touching. He ghosted over, getting tantalizingly close but never making contact. Catching on, she let him edge her backwards on the bed. It was one of those games teenagers play, like there’s an invisible barrier around their bodies that allow them to get close but never touch. They moved in tandem, he filled up space she had occupied only moments before. She retreated as he advanced.

Dean’s movements were sleek and slow, like a panther. He never stopped his progression, never broke contact with her gaze. He watched with hooded eyes as the glint of rebellion gave over to something softer.

He hovered over her body only a hair’s breadth away, his grin was predatory, “Lucky for you, I’m an expert negotiator.”

Emma struggled to keep her thoughts orderly. It was growing increasingly difficult as her mate hovered above her. His scent surrounded her, his arms and legs caging her in. He was everywhere and she could feel herself start to float on that heady, seductive cloud. She couldn’t help the sigh that escaped her lips. Nowhere in the whole world felt as good, as right, as being with him.

It wasn’t until he saw her eyes flutter shut that he broke that invisible barrier between them. His nose brushed the claiming mark and inhaled deeply before moving on to the spot just behind her ear. It was one of her favorites and he had discovered just how sensitive it was over the past few days.

When he nuzzled her then nipped, she moaned and brought her fingers up to comb through his hair still damp from the shower. “Mmm… you make a valid point.”

He chuckled as he continued his assault. Moving down the graceful column of her neck, he sampled silky skin.

“I have an idea,” she said as Dean made his way to the zipper of her hoodie and started to ease it down. When he didn’t reply but moved his fingers moved to her waistband, she gave a sharp tug on the short hairs at the base of his skull.

“Agh!” He grunted as she wiggled out from under him. With a pained sigh and a semi hard erection, he propped himself up on one elbow. “Better watch it, Sweetheart. You know I like it rough.”

Emma sat up, regal as a queen. Determined to get back to business. “I think we should date.”

“Date,” he repeated. “We’re mated. We’ve spent the last five days claiming each other in every way possible. Don’t you think we’re a little past the dating phase?”

A worried frown creased her brow, “You don’t want to date me?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“I know it’s a little… backwards, but so what? Why should we do things the way other people do?” She gave a shy smile as she appealed to him. “I want to get to know you.”

He sat himself up completely and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, “We are going to spend the rest of our lives getting to know each other.”

He instead of reassuring her, he felt her pull away. He felt like kicking himself, somehow, he’d managed to say something wrong. He crooked a finger under her chin and forced her to look at him. There was disappointment there, “It means that much to you?”

“Well, I thought it would be fun and I… I’ve never dated before. Not really, anyway.” She replied, struggling to keep embarrassment from coloring her voice.

Dean couldn’t help being surprised. Shocked. She was a beautiful woman, stunning actually. He had no doubt that his pretty little Omega had turned heads from an early age. She was so smart and fun and sexy, it seemed impossible that no one had ever tried to date her. Although the very thought had his possessive Alpha jealousy flaring.

“Never? No boyfriend ever?”

She shook her head and bit her lip. One of her more noticeable nervous tells. “No, not really. I mean, I’ve gone on a few dates but there was never anyone special.”

“Does this have to do with those black-market suppressants you were taking?”

“They weren’t black-market,” she countered, “I wasn’t getting shot up in back alleys, I was under a doctor’s care.”

“Oh, you mean that gargoyle that showed up? That guy was a dick, he had the bedside manner of a cab driver!”

“What he lacks in congeniality he makes up for in discretion.” Emma crossed her arms over her chest defensively. She wasn’t accustomed to defending her actions to anyone, especially regarding her presentation treatments. It was a well-guarded family secret, discussing it with anyone else made her very uneasy. Even if that person was her Alpha, the one person meant to protect her.

“Being an Omega is nothing but a liability, it’s a weakness. This city is full of Alphas who think they can drag me back to their cave by my ponytail. Or boss me around because the world order says they should be in charge of everything!”

Frustrated, she blinked back the stinging in her eyes. Tears that threatened to fall only seemed to undermine her point. Usually, she had a tight rein on her emotions but ever since being claimed, they refused to stay where she put them. They were like a storm she was constantly trying to keep from breaking through.

“I just wanted to live my life without having to worry that my presentation would get me overlooked for a promotion or kidnapped by a rut-crazed Alpha.”

Dean hated the fear and stress he felt from her. Her eyes bright with unshed tears. He knew the world wasn’t an easy place for Omegas. Emma certainly wasn’t alone in her feelings on the matter and many others had taken the same route. Suppressants and scent blockers were a common and safe method for most people who wanted a bit of anonymity.

“You’re right,” he said with a sigh, taking both of her hands in his. Reveling in how delicate they seemed compared to his. How easily they could be bruised or broken. “There’s nothing wrong with Omegas using suppressants. Hell, if I were in your shoes, I’d probably do the same thing. It’s just that reaction you had, you were so cold. I thought I was going to lose you. I’ve never been that scared. And then that creepy doctor… acting like he didn’t care if you lived or died. I wanted to kill him with my bare hands.”

Emma leaned forward and rested her forehead against his. “I know. I’m sorry Dean, it’s my fault. I knew better, I just got caught up. And then when my heat started, I couldn’t think straight.”

“It’s understandable. I did kind of sweep you off your feet.”

“You did,” she smiled softly. “That’s why I had only been with Betas before.”

Dean pulled back and looked at her with curiosity, “So you’ve never been with an Alpha before me?”

“No.”

His grin was instant and cocky as his chest puffed out. “Good.”

She rolled her eyes, “Shut up.”

He laughed and pulled her onto his lap, tucking her head under his chin. She fit there so perfectly; Dean knew he would never grow tired of holding her. Leaving New York without her, would likely be one of the hardest things he would ever do. He took a deep inhale of her sweet scent and groaned. “Okay Sweetheart, you win. Let’s date.”

Emma drew back and looked up at him with wide, hopeful eyes, “Really?”

“Hell, why not!”

She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him with such enthusiasm that he nearly toppled backwards. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“Just you wait,” he muttered through their joined lips, “I’ve got all kinds of romantic cards up my sleeve.”

When her face lit up Dean felt his heart swell. Yeah, being separated for any amount of time would be torture, but worth it if it made her so happy.

She eyed him with suspicion. “You aren’t just giving me my way because I cried, are you?”

“I hate seeing you cry, but no. You made a valid point. It’ll take us time to get everything figured out, why not have some fun while we’re at it?”

The dimple in her left cheek appeared and her eyes sparkled with the smile that bloomed. She was practically glowing with excitement and hope. Shining like the sun, the new center of his universe. His whole future held in his arms.

#alpha!dean x omega!reader #alpha!dean winchester #a/b/o #jensen ackles #jensen x reader #jensen x y/n #Jensen x ofc #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #Dean x ofc #a/b/o smut #spn fic #supernatural #To The Victor

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deliberatemisspelling · 1 year

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I'm gonna say something extremely controversial (hi, we've met).

I love Taylor Kelly.

I love her.

I love her unabashed sexuality.

I love her drive for finding the truth (even when she does it wrong, even when it hurts people she loves.)

I love how fiercely she cares about her job.

I love her.

When I did school for a while I was a communications major and I ran 3 school papers and I have worked for an actual honest to God local newspaper and when I did those things I would have MURDERED A MAN for a cohort like Taylor Kelly. Someone who CARES about TELLING THE TRUTH. No matter how ugly or uncomfortable it is.

I have another controversial thing (shocker, I know): 911 is a good show, but it's a Fox procedural and it's copaganda, no matter how diverse the cast is or how liberal the storylines are.

There is a reason why the Journalist/reporter character is written the way Taylor Kelly is. You are supposed to uncritically side with the characters you love when Taylor does something (arguably, in the case of breaking the Jonah story) shady.

The narrative leads the viewer to automatically side with members of the 118, but I'm sorry, on-shift firefighters being high (even through no fault of their own) is a story (yes, ethically using the footage of Bobby would be fucked. That's why her editor said no, and yes, she did learn from that experience. She wanted to, and she wasn't allowed. Buck does that in his job every other episode.)

Taylor is RIGHT when she says the information about Jonah would have gotten out anyway. Oh, the poor woobie fire department wanted to break the story themselves for damage control 🥺🥺🥺. Boo hoo.

In the context we're shown she didn't use any information from the conversation prior in the episode that she, a seasoned reporter, would not have found on her own in half an hour of googling.

She didn't quote anyone. She had a name first, that's it. A name any other reporter would've gotten from land records or a neighbor or any other one of a dozen sources 20 minutes later, once on-scene. Reporters are supposed to break stories. It's their JOB. They aren't supposed to regurgitate press releases from the fire department like it's news.

Uncritically hating Taylor Kelly because shes Wrong For Buck (she is, that's okay) without considering the fact that public institutions that are paid for with tax dollars (like police and fire departments) SHOULD be critically analyzed is lazy, and there's whole other kettle of fish to talk about regarding hatred female characters paired with part of a popular m/m ship. (It used to be called Bashing, and it's so fucking boring y'all omg).

Taylor's arc is crafted to make the journalist, and journalism, and investigative reporting, look shady.

Listen to the voice-over at the end of the blackout episode! It's all about how, now that the blackout is over, the only violence and property damage still occurring is in the autonomous zone. It's not subtle.

The Fourth Estate is IMPORTANT and the current real world state of it is a SHAMBLES. There are serious problems with the state of journalism but there are serious problems with the state of public entities too, and the way characters that are members of the 118 are allowed to make mistakes (you know, like people) while the House is held up as a bastion of perfection while still being part of a problematic institution, but a character like Taylor, because she is a Journalist, is given NO QUARTER, is galling.

A reporter like Taylor Kelly is Worth Her Weight in GOLD. She's got some things to learn but she's young and she's hungry and she CARES.

I love Taylor Kelly.

#taylor kelly #911 show #fandom shit #like y'all i get she's not for everyone but the people out here stanning Lucy with her 30 seconds of characterization while hating taylor #make me INSANE #lucy is great!#taylor is ALSO GREAT #leave taylor kelly alone 2k23

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spotsandsocks · 1 year

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I posted 5,378 times in 2022

That's 4,370 more posts than 2021!

240 posts created (4%)

5,138 posts reblogged (96%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@loveyourownsmiilee

@monsterrae1

@daughterofbuddie

@the-likesofus

@elvensorceress

I tagged 4,380 of my posts in 2022

Only 19% of my posts had no tags

#911 fox - 1,273 posts

#buddie - 1,255 posts

#eddie diaz - 990 posts

#evan buckley - 744 posts

#911 spoilers - 538 posts

#911fic - 299 posts

#911 on fox - 277 posts

#911 fic - 209 posts

#q - 207 posts

#buddie wip - 197 posts

Longest Tag: 101 characters

#oh eddie no buck sounds horrified and stares for a full minute before he says i’m coming over tonight

My Top Posts in 2022:

Buck let himself in

Key to the Diaz house confirmed

106 notes - Posted April 12, 2022

And its there when I look in your eyes

1.5K Teen

It’s just an ordinary evening; no different than any of the others he’s had with Eddie and Chris, he’s had so many now he couldn’t even guess at a number. It’s warm and familiar and he loves every minute he has with them but he’s never thought about having more than this, more than what they already have but apparently, Eddie has.

That’s just become clear - in an ordinary moment on an ordinary evening, Buck’s stumbled over the most extraordinary thing.

They were clearing up after dinner, chatting aimlessly about their shift, plans for their next day off, gossiping about work, just ordinary things. Buck enjoying the way they move around his kitchen - in perfect synchrony, as seamlessly as they do when they’re on the job.

It happens just after he slides the last plate into the cupboard. He turns and Eddie takes one look at him and laughs, he steps closer and everything changes.

“hold on, you have something…”

Buck feels the flash of Eddie’s thumb across his skin, fingers resting lightly against his face, he looks into honey warm eyes that crinkle at the corners and his heart stops.

The act itself is over before it’s begun. Eddie’s removed the offending smudge from his face with a smile and returned to the final chores before him.

Buck can’t do the same because he’s reeling from what he saw in Eddie’s eyes. The look was unmistakable.

For the first time Buck understands, he sees, really sees what’s in Eddie's heart.

And it’s devastating.

Perhaps the most devastating part of it is that he’s seen that look before, so many times but he’s never understood it.

He feels terrible. He hadn’t know, he hadn’t meant to be hurting his friend like this.

A wave of nausea rolls his stomach, he’s been making Eddie suffer and he would never, ever want that.

Why hadn’t he seen it before?

He stands frozen and speechless with a dish towel over his shoulder, slowly coming to terms with the most remarkable piece of information: Eddie’s in love with him.

He’s not ready. Fear hits him hard, sending icicles down his spine. He’s going to lose everything. It’s all over, everything he thought was safely his is slipping through his fingers because he can’t give Eddie what he wants. What he deserves.

He needs to say something but he’s terrified, unable to speak the words that will drive Eddie away, he thinks he might cry. He doesn’t know what to do. He’s not ready to lose Eddie, no - he can’t lose him, he can’t lose Chris. He can’t lose his family.

A calm voice cuts into his spiraling thoughts.

“Stop it. God, you think so loudly.”

Eddie’s smiling at him but there’s a tinge of sadness in his soft gaze. He knows what Buck’s finally seen and he knows the rest too because no one understands Buck like Eddie.

And it’s all over, in mere moments his best friend is going to hate him. How can he not when Buck has to say he can’t give him the right type of love back.

Eddie's gentle voice penetrates his spiralling thoughts. He sounds like he’s talking to a skittish horse that might bolt any minute.

“Buck, it’s ok. Just listen, can you do that?”

He manages to nod.

“Good.” The face in front of him is so familiar, so loved; still smiling, eyes still so kind and gentle no different than they were two minutes before, before the world up and changed on him.

Eddie speaks slowly and each careful word sinks into Buck’s heart, and eases something in him,

“Buck, there’s nothing you need to do about this. Nothing you have to fix.”

Eddie continues and Buck struggles to understand, how he can be saying these things.

See the full post

174 notes - Posted September 29, 2022

Thought I’d share this cute commission from Chemdoodles of one of my favourite buddie scenes.

Love this cute style

179 notes - Posted April 29, 2022

Here's an amazing commission by the phenomenally talented @macarenaandrad3 for my 911/dragonriders AU fic. Its a story about how Eddie (and Christopher) meet Buck and he helps him to make a new life and move through his grief after suffering a terrible loss.

I love the art so much and it’s not like I can share it with anyone I actually know so onto Tumblr it goes.

To Fly the Skies Read on AO3

60K Rated E

Its long with more plot than I planned and it’s niche I know, but I’m really proud of the story. I thought this would be just for me but turns out there's a quite a few other people out there who want to read about fictional versions of fictional men in a world where dragons talk and fly the skies.

@macarenaandrad3

270 notes - Posted March 15, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Argahhh! Look at this- a commission for my fic 12 months 12 Kisses by the unbelievable talent that is @macarenaandrad3. Check out her blog and other art it’s all amazing

It’s doing things to my heart!

The fic -Over the course of a year Eddie and Buck exchange various types of kisses but while Eddie is drowning in feelings Buck doesn’t think all those kisses mean anything. Or maybe they do, actually he thinks its all pretty confusing and unfortunately nobody’s talking about it, but Christopher’s had enough and meddles, because that’s what you do when your Dads are idiots!

From a first accidental kiss to one that seals their wedding vows you can never have to many Buddie kisses.

The scene is from Chapt 11 November -a kiss it better kiss.

Tagging some mutuals and blogs I interact with under cut who I think might like to see this

298 notes - Posted September 27, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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scribblesforthemad · 2 years

Text

There and Back Again - Part 2

Here's part 2!

Many, many thanks to @skyfall8600 whose excellent Sucked In series not only inspired this one, but brought me out of a years-long writing slump! The first few parts of this series are heavily inspired by her work, while diverging more significantly later on. Regardless, I wholeheartedly recommend her work, and thank her for allowing me to use a few of her excellent ideas!

series warnings: swearing, misogyny, canon-typical violence, fluff, insecurity; sfw but gets a little ~steamy~ in a couple places

part two warnings: swearing, discussions of character death

You opened the door of and let it slam behind you, trying your best to steady your breathing as the tinkle of the bell announced your arrival. What am I doing here? you thought to yourself, your anxiety rising as you realized you had no idea what to do next.

“Welcome to Family Video, your fix for flicks. How can I help you today?” You turned slowly toward the voice, knowing who you would find but not quite daring to believe it.

Steve Harrington stood before you in his blue and white uniform vest, leaning tiredly against the counter. His hair—oh God, his hair—curled up and over his forehead, looking even softer and fluffier than it did on the screen. Your brain started to short-circuit.

Somehow, some way, you were in Stranger Things. Not as an actress, not as an extra, but in real life. There were no cameras, there was no soundstage—you were in Hawkins, Indiana in 1986, talking to Steve Harrington.

This was bananas.

Suddenly overwhelmed by the enormity of what had happened to you, you started to cry, sliding to the carpeted floor.

“Oh, uh,” Steve stepped towards you, looking utterly bewildered but deeply concerned. “Are you hurt? Do you need me to call 911?”

You shook your head. “I’m fine, I’m sorry, I just—I didn’t know where else to go!” You threw up your hands, laughing a little hysterically. “I knew you and Robin would be working here, or at least I figured you were, so I asked for directions and I just panicked—”

Your need for oxygen cut your rambling explanation short. Steve’s eyes had gotten rounder with every word, and his thick eyebrows knit together in concern.

“You came to see us?” he asked, confused, clearly racking his brain to see if he knew you as he crouched down in front of you. “Sorry to disappoint, but Robin’s at school until 3:00. Is there something I can do for you?”

“I—oh my god, I—um…” you closed your eyes and focused on your breathing. You had daydreamed about living in Hawkins, about meeting Steve and Dustin and the rest of the gang, but actually being here? That was a whole new level of crazy that you had no idea how to handle.

You took one last deep breath, centering yourself. Here goes nothing.

“This is going to sound crazy. I need you to listen to it, to all of it, anyway—and don’t ask me how I know anything until the end. Okay?” You asked with a sense of certainty that you didn’t feel at all.

He raised his eyebrow and ran his fingers through his hair, mussing it into even-more-perfect disarray as he sized you up.

“Um, yeah, I guess I can do that,” he said, his expression wary. You looked him straight in the eye. “Promise me you won’t freak out? At least until the end?”

He nodded slowly, real fear creeping into the edges of his expression. You thought about how best to begin, trying to find an explanation that would be as succinct and understandable as Mr. Clark’s always were

“So, you already know that there are multiple worlds—here, and the Upside Down,” you said. Steve’s jaw dropped, and he made as if to interrupt you, but you raised your voice and continued. “The thing is, there are more than just those two. At least one more, anyway,” you said, suddenly wondering at the cosmic implications of your presence in Hawkins. You shook yourself. No time for that now, Y/N.

“I’m not from the Upside Down—you can tell that by my lack of razor teeth and my possession of a face, thank God—but Steve, I’m not from here either.” You took a deep breath. “I’m from a third world. I don’t know how I got here, but in my world? This,” you gestured broadly at the video store, Hawkins, and Steve himself, “is just a TV show. In 2022. Stranger Things,” you said, stifling a laugh.

Steve’s face was blank with shock and confusion. You didn’t blame him.

“I know it sounds crazy, but I promise it’s true. I can even prove it to you.”

Steve looked up sharply, still bewildered.

“How?” he asked simply. You took another deep breath.

“I know Robin came out to you in the bathroom of the Starcourt Mall last year. It was when you were both still high from the drugs the Russians gave you in their base underneath the mall, and you confessed that you had feelings for her. You were confused until she told you that she had had a crush on Tammy Thompson at the same time you did.”

You paused, giving Steve—and yourself—a moment to catch up. After a second, Steve’s expression morphed into a relieved, slightly exasperated grin.

“So Robin put you up to this, huh? She told you everything that happened last summer—God knows why—and sent you here to make me look like a dumbass.” He shook his head, laughing to himself. “You can come out now, Robin,” he said loudly to the empty room. “Your little prank didn’t work!”

You blew a strand of hair out of your face. This was going to be harder than you thought.

“Steve—Steve! Listen to me. Robin didn’t send me; this isn’t a joke.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “I’ve caught on, you can let it drop now. Credit to you on the delivery, though—those tears looked real and everything.”

Frustration and anger filled your veins, though you could hardly blame Steve for being skeptical. How could you possibly get him to believe you? You watched as he mussed his hair again, triumphant grin shining.

“Farrah Fawcett spray!” you blurted as it suddenly came to you. Steve’s grin dropped like a rock, his face taking on a defensive cast.

“What did you say?” he asked, voice quieter than you’d ever heard it. You stifled a giggle.

“Your hair. It’s Fabergé Organics shampoo and conditioner, followed by three puffs of Farrah Fawcett spray. You told Dustin that two years ago when you were setting a trap for Dart, the baby demodog, and you told him you’d kill him if he ever told anybody.”

Steve’s face was pale. You could sense you were close to convincing him.

“Robin and Dustin are your closest friends. Do you really think I could convince both of them to tell me their deepest, darkest secrets when you’ve never even heard of me? Do you think I would know about Eleven, the Upside Down, Starcourt, even your job at Family Video?” You let out a shaky breath, pouring every ounce of yourself into your words, willing him to believe you. “I promise you, Steve Harrington—this isn’t a joke. I’m telling the truth.”

Steve sat back on his heels, expression unreadable. You sat in silence for a long moment, anxiously picking at your nail polish. Abruptly, Steve looked up at you and nodded.

“I believe you,” he said firmly, and you let out a sigh of relief you didn’t know you’d been holding. “I don’t know how, or why, but I believe you.” You laughed softly, relief flooding your veins.

“Believe me, I’ve asked myself the same question since I woke up in the woods this morning.”

Steve stood and extended his hand to you, helping you to your feet. Wiping your eyes on the sleeve of your jacket, you smiled to yourself. In some ways, this was what you’d always wanted—a portal into the fantasy worlds you dreamed about. You really were excited to be here, despite the dangers presented by the Upside Down and Vecna and—

You stopped cold. Steve frowned, noticing the change in your expression.

“What’s wrong, Y/N? I mean, despite the obvious,” he said, a little embarrassed. You couldn’t answer him; your thoughts were racing too quickly, trying to remember every detail you’d seen since you arrived. What date had the newspaper said it was? February something…February 21! February 21, 1986. That puts me… You swallowed hard. That puts me right before the start of season four.

“Earth to Y/N,” Steve said, waving his hand in front of your face. “You in there?” You jumped, the motion startling you out of your reverie.

“I’m fine,” you said quickly. “I just…realized where I am in the storyline.”

Steve nodded for a moment, then shook his head.

“Wait, you mean the Starcourt thing wasn’t…the end? You mean—”

“Yes, Steve,” you said solemnly, looking him in the eye. “I know what’s going to happen. And…you’re not going to like it.”

He grimaced.

“Wouldn’t be Hawkins if I did,” he joked lamely. You gave him a weak smile, appreciating his attempts to make you feel better.

“Maybe…” you mused, unsure of where your thoughts were headed. “Maybe I’m here to—to help you guys? To change some things?” Thoughts of every time travel book you’d ever read and movie you’d ever seen immediately flooded your brain. “But how can I? I don’t want to create some kind of Back to the Future paradox—wait, shit, has that even come out yet?”

“July 3, last summer,” Steve said, nodding. You looked puzzled by the specificity of his knowledge until he continued, gesturing to the video store around you. “Trick of the trade.”

“Okay, cool. I don’t want to create any kind of paradox and get more people hurt or—” Your voice broke as you remembered what happened to Eddie. “Or worse.”

“It’s that bad, huh?” Steve asked, sounding unsurprised. You nodded glumly. “You’d better tell me about it—at least the broad strokes,” he said, forestalling your objection.

“That I can do,” you said, and followed him into the office.

#eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #stranger things 4 #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson/you #eddie munson/reader

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lovecolibri · 2 years

Note

SaL anon here friend and it looks like you were as pleasantly surprised by last night's episodes as I was! Of course there was too much L (and will be until she's gone at the season's end) but the fact all her scenes got butchered is just hilarious. Instead, they made room for some truly delightful Henren detective shenanigans, Eddie and May as besties, Chim bring back where he belongs (mostly), and the reminder that even with characters we have no connection too 911 can deliver some truly TBC

devastating rescues that will emotionally wreck you (I feel like it's been awhile since we've seen one and its a shame because this is a wee woo show and it's part of what makes it tick). Also you're right, Ryan would have nailed a heartbreaking version of "You Are My Sunshine", but as an alternative may I suggest Can't Smile Without You? On top of that LS was an joy, and I absolutely want a future episode to have Grace and Carlos wine-drunk and bitching about their husbands.

Our PR friend appears to be looking out for us by reminding us to keep our expectations in the ground and allowing us to be pleasantly surprised! I agree that any L is too much L (especially with her sitting in Buck and Eddie's usual seating configurations), and her moments we do see continue to be things that would work better with other characters. The firetruck scene and everyone talking about youth would have played better with one mostly younger person like Ravi around, plus seeing him and Buck competing to find the car first would have been fun, and the reality TV set was the PERFECT place for Chimney to be (and Eddie 😭 when is he coming HOME?!), and he for sure would have had some delightful commentary instead of putting down the institution of marriage as a whole to a group of people who are all either married or want to be 🙄 (*Chandler Bing voice* could she BE any more of an "I'm not like other girls" character?!) But I find the fact that they literally cut everything they possibly could, to the point that you could clearly see that the scenes in the firetruck were edited to remove her moments hilarious because they would rather have the editing looking a little awkward and disjointed, than leave in scenes of her “bonding” with the team and “poking” at Buck. 🤣🤣🤣 But honestly thank goodness for the editing team. A young woman was having her face melted off on a livestream and they had already wasted a ton of time just trying to figure out the general area where she might be! It was not the time to have them making a “fun” competition about who found the car first, or who got to use the drill to get into the house, same with whatever they had planned for those 2 minutes they disappeared into a dark tunnel together while a woman was planning to say her final goodbye to her kids. None of that fit the tone of those moments! It did make that sauna call a little weird because there was SO much set up, only for the actual rescue part to be over almost immediately, but the fact that nearly the ENITRE scene that was used in the majority of the stills got cut makes me giggle, and then they deleted their watch post on Instagram that had her and I downright cackled, because I’m a petty bench.

And what did we get in return for those missing moments? We got SO MUCH good Karen content!! Every single moment with her and Hen was GOLD and they deserved to have some fun, free, lighthearted shenanigans for once! Plus the actresses play off each other so well, and they just sparkle together. Truly something to add to the blessings pile in this very mixed bag of a season and I can’t wait for their vow renewal!

Eddie and May are SUCH an unexpected delight and I’m going to miss it when Eddie goes home to the 118 and May goes off to college (very likely, so the actress can focus on her college studies!). I hope they don’t entirely abandon that dynamic (or his with Linda) when he’s out of dispatch because it’s truly been so much fun. (It’s also proof that there are enough characters who don’t interact that they don’t need new ones to shake things up and keep the dynamics fresh, but that’s a whole other post)

We also got so much good Chim content! We got sunglasses Chim being so funny in the truck, grossed out Chim at the sauna call, we got Chim (and Hen!) on the ropes which is rare, Certified Dad Chim with Maddie and Jee’s baby box/first time using the spoon herself, and of course he was perfect on that tragic call (as was Bobby) making sure the girls had their dad. We also got some good Maddie/Madney/Buckley siblings content and I can feel the “second (or is it third?) first date” for Madney coming soooon!

911 doesn’t often have tragic calls but when they do, whooo boy they utalize them to their fullest effect! The music, the mom’s talk to her girls, the flipping “mom doesn’t need them anymore” line from the oldest sister? 😭😭😭 It was all done SO well, and showed Chim and Bobby especially taking charge in all the right ways that case needed to be handled. Bobby being the calm one staying behind to watch the girls, Chim making the decision the dad needed to be the one to talk to the kids and that they would load the mom up like they normally would, and them letting the girls wear their helmets and keeping them busy in the firetruck while Chim contacted their dad himself, it was all just so beautifully done and absolutely strikes at the heart of the show which has been so hit or miss this season. But when they are good, man, they are good.

Lone Star may be what it will be with regards to Owen, but this episode was an absolute DELIGHT! The Ryder family drama with Uncle Dave was SO much fun, and TK and Carlos getting to have a totally whimsical, fun, and funny plot was so, so, so refreshing! They have earned this lighthearted moment and it was a JOY to watch. I too need to see Grace and Carlos getting wine drunk and bitching about the strays their husbands keep around for too long! 🤣

I know this is our anniversary week and I was hoping to put together a masterlist of our posts but a whole week of being ill last week and recovering this first part of the week have put me a bit behind, but I’m sure you’ve got something for later this week so I look forward to that!

#my sweet nonnie friends #sleeping at last anon #911 #911 spoilers #anti lucy donato #911 lone star #lone star spoilers #this is my third attempt at this post because tumblr hates me #i had to save this as a draft and not use the new post editor format because my screen kept randomly going white #and then i couldn't do anything until i refreshed the page and that deletes the draft #i also kept a copy in a word document just in case #and then i had to cut a whole ramble about L that's going to be it's own post #but i did it today like i promised!#and next week is may day which i think is going to be THEE serve of the season for the main cast as a whole #we've gotten some great eddie stuff but aside from some madney/maddie stuff everyone else is just kinda...there #so it will be good to see everyone involved and getting their redemption moment #i can't wait!

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lonespektr · 8 months

Text

FRIDAY SEPTEMBER FIRST HORROR WATCH 2023 DOUBLE FEATURE

Violent Night (2022) & Bones and All (2022)

Violent Night

Ok ok ok it took a while to get my Internet to cooperate

Oh shizz that's actually Santa, i thought it was about a thief Maybe??

Omg i been watching the righteous gemstones and she's playing the same character

911?

Love sis hair

Lol amazon packages

The sleigh is cool

Actual coal

Diligent santa presentation

Lol he forgot

You didn't write a letter? Well who's fault is that?

Lol one way radio

I mean not a bad ploy if you know your kid

Mean to ddeer

Okay solid magic

That's right booo skim

Where's the goat milk

I like the leather outfit over what's it usually like .. velour velvet?

The matriarch is good

Luguizamo!

Revlers

KRAMPUS!

Lovely code names

She's got perfect cheekbones and they are making sure we see em

I knew he was asleep

Outfits and everything

Lol damn she just left her kids

Even her favorite granddaughter

Babe u sneaking out use your magic

They shorted him out as a drunk, could have maybe referenced that earlier

Aggressive stitching

Lol they ditched him

Everybody can fight like fa real fa real

Serious icicle oh it's a display

Cookie addict more than drink

Ooo writing maybe not consistent

Omg shit decorative work 🤣

Look at that table

Having trouble with exposition

That's a long way round to implicate U.S. imperialism

Fancy safe good set

The thieves costumes are killing me he really made them get dressed up

Nice gimmick i hope they keep doing it

Russian tat santa okay Celtic tat makes more sense

Kinda annoyed he can't hear her

I choose to blame his magic

This is a creative Christmas kills montage

I know it was going to be that radio but I'm annoyed it's not magic

He's got a scroll database which absolves him from being a peeper

Shove it up the borderline

I forgot they managed to kill the black guy first horror check ✔️

He's kinda perfect weight for this

I just realized they paired him with another kid (stranger things)

The audacity of WOW people have wow

Lol that's her fav whiskey she's rich i have a bottle of that

The parents don't the helpless thing with kids bugs me

Should they be able to access the bag?

Oh 😂 villian sob story

Super campy

Lol he already confessed

Magic tied to belief had three temporary believers

Lol how long did that take, hour long did they expect to get into the safe?

Lol PLOT TWIST

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Damn couldn't just get a job

🤣🤣🤣 wait the kid is actually smart

The mercenaries are head to toe covered up but there are womens voices

That's right ladies equality

The main heist crew also has 1? 2 women?

Respect the home alone references with an absolutely plausible rationale

Great amount of blood

Lol he wants to kill Christmas fa real fa real

Some of the stuff is silly/ lazy for no reason

Cornier ending than i thought v cute

Bones and all (2022)

I didn't know it was a period piece

ANDRE!

Very sapphic

Okay right to erotic cannibalism

I looked down earlier, i thought she got kicked in

Oof

Bailed

Birth certificate?

Whoa! Like your mother did

Oh the other way nm

There's clearly some political era they are referencing but idk

Okay not even 100bucks

Thought there was two

First murder 3 omg

So much andre i love it

What a creeper

Omg it's full fantasy

I just thought she was an emotionally disturbed girl into cannibalism

It's full scale werewolf adjacent

Smell from miles off

Oh vinegar!

Does he have a discoloration too? Under his neck

No kill

The implication sites seem to be it's being on addiction

Aannd there's a serial killer trophies

The camera pan to the photos

Grandpa

That's smart

He can smell

3 then 8

I believed you had to

I watched to see if you looked sad

Hopefully she stole something from the house to sell

Typical boy shit

I hope he's a poser a wannabe but i don't think so

Nope

No one our age is new at this

That's quite young

The implication bring there are hella serial killers

Presumably this is supposed to be attractive and endearing

Another shower

No way she slept with the knife like that

No way he's a buck forty even

Itchy

Sympathy for the cows

No i think his is a scar

These kids are smart

Very romantic

Lol for a cop bit

Damn i wanted the poser to be the kid

What does she care

Creeping out again

The implications of that are clear

The future being a friend to yourself

Bailed

She came back

Day job

Creeper

Down

None of these people carry bleach

Kayla

Tasteful eating cut aways

Closer to sex addiction than drug addiction

I hate when films end on a cut of better times

Like ok but that's not what you just showed me

It feels like a cop out

I mean it reinforces the continued delusion

#graywatchhorror23 #violent night #bones and all

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voxiiferous · 1 year

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🎧 🎧🎧

@saunteredintohell

Send 🎧 for a random song from my character's playlist and the reason(s) why I associate it with my muse!

Ooh! Three! First up...

All Eyes On Me - OR3O You said I wasn't good enough to stay You put me away You took away my future and my fame But now that will change

Focus on me I'll be all that they see I'll make them sway No, can't run away Now all eyes on me

Between this, Circus (Britney Spears), and the Paranoid DJ song for Vox, is the common theme of 'all eyes on me' coming across? Vox is a performer, and more than that, he is someone for whom has quite a lot of power. In life, he kept getting denied promotions until he decided to extort and blackmail his way to the short-lived top, in Hell... well Overlord Vox is a figure you shouldn't mess with.

I really like the somewhat staticky affect at the start of the song, and the slightly swing sound to it, it brings together the past and present, which for Vox, is super important. Like yes he leans into the new technology, and the changes inherent in time, but he is still very much influenced by where he started.

It also works for when Vox finally leaves Valentino permanently. They've been 'equals' for so long, but now it's for Vox to reclaim everything he built from the ground up.

Our Velocity - Maximo Park I'm not a man I'm a machine Chisel me down until I am clean I buy books I never read And then I tell you some more about me!

Years and years ago a blog I was writing with put this on a playlist meme for me, and it's been hanging around in my playlist ever since, and I have to admit, I think it fits Vox the best of any of my muses!

I like this song for his relationships too, like the line "I've got no one to call in the middle of the night anymore / I'm just alone with my thoughts" is also a mood. Alongside the trend of 'eyes on me', Voxxy also has the tensions between man and machine.

And for my version of him at least, where he is right now is something like 25 years after his height. In the 1990s, his rivalry with Alastor made for a good show, he and Valentino were stable, they were the three V's, and media was changing in a positive direction he could capitalize on... and now it's not that, he's clinging.

Everyone knows everything about Overlord Vox, he's on every screen in Hell, people follow him on Voxtagram, sometimes he quote classic literature from a time he used to read it, but none of it's real, none of it's actually fulfilling.

911 - Lady Gaga Turnin' up emotional faders Keep repeating self-hating phrases I have heard enough of these voices Almost like I have no choice This is biological stasis My mood's shifting to manic places Wish I laughed and kept the good friendships Watch life, here I go again

Is it funny to say that when it comes to music, I am perhaps more likely to search up Angel inspiration than other Vox playlists? A lot of songs don't cross nicely, but for my version of the character, the very self assured, happy, confident version just... isn't what he is. He, like Alastor, is bored.

As for this song! The start has a very robotic vibe to it, which sort of tapers off in part, but definitely not fully, and so that vibe is already putting it higher on the 'is a Vox mood' scale. My man has perfected the smiling while everything internally falls down around him, but he's no more getting out of, or changing it than he was a few decades ago. But he is getting to a point now where he's aware of that, where the rose tinted glasses are coming off, and that's... terrifying for him.

Vox's entire playlist is the most confusing mixture of 'seemingly upbeat pop music with darker lyrics', and 'the cold cost of success', which sort of says everything you need to know about him. Like yes, he's brought this on himself, but that doesn't mean he's happy.

#it was hard to decide on what the last song should be!#I had like 4 options #*soundtrack (music)#*personnel file (hc)#saunteredintohell

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buckaroosboogara · 3 years

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I love that sometimes, people in charge of translating episodes to different languages change the script a little to fit the characters or to fit the way the person's lips move on-screen. (More subtle than the Supernatural finale way)

Those little details that are only available in the language I'm listening to make me extremely happy, for some reason.

Also, the way they find the perfect voices for the characters is amazing!

#in Avengers:Endgame morgan says 'ily 3 millions' instead of 3 thousands #or Danny Williams always says a special sentence 'that's cute'#with the usual spice ofc #all of 911 characters' voices are so perfect #all this applies to the latin american versions #at the same time i hate when jokes get lost in translation #latin america #latinoamerica #translation #911 on fox #hawaii five 0 #marvel #they deserve more recognition #!!!!!

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ddejavvu · 2 years

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Hotter than the sun + 911 calling

Dog hybrid! Sirius x Cat hybrid! reader with bad girl and good boy trope

come celebrate 2.5K with me!

911 calling - send me a trope and a character, and i’ll write about what it would be like! (ex. enemies to lovers with regulus black)

Hotter than the sun - send me an au and a character, and i’ll write about what it would be like! (ex. doctor!au with sirius black)

could you imagine being the person to corrupt sirius black

it starts when you're younger, you're both part of pureblood families that socialize a lot, and you're hellbent on wreaking havoc at these functions

sirius's mother has kept a tight leash on him (no pun intended) since the minute he was born, so he's quiet and sits by her side at dinner and doesn't make a mess and you're running around, ducking under tables to tie people's shoes together, throwing globs of mashed potatoes at the backs of people's heads

one of these globs of potatoes hits his mother in the back of the head and while you're scolded heavily for it and walburga plays the perfect host and waves it off, sirius can tell she's seething

he's secretly so happy that his mother is mad. she's always treating him like absolute dog shit (once again, no pun intended) and he's sick of it, but he can't do anything about it, so he's happy to see someone else do it for him

you see the ghost of a smile on his face while you're being scolded and you make it your mission to recruit that boy onto your team as soon as you possibly can

you start hogwarts only one year apart from each other, and if the school thought they had it bad when you got there, they had no idea what was coming when sirius got there.

you two were inseperable from the start of the term, old childhood friends reunited and wreaking havoc once more

sirius actually meets the other marauders through you, you guys pull a prank on an entire classroom and they're the only two people that make it out; remus because he outsmarted you and james because remus was his seat partner and he tagged along with the boy

you quickly realize that you could use their help in the future and from then on you're inseparable, the school is in ruin and all of the teachers are praying for the day when you all graduate

sirius really does try to hide his feelings for you, but by his third year in school and your fourth, he's hopeless. his tail gives him away whenever he sees you, which is a lot, he's been known to knock things over with his tail accidentally just because you walked into the room and he got way too excited

he curses his luck that he's managed to fall for a cat, composed and unreadable, while he's out there giving away every single thought in his head just from how his ears perk up at the sound of his voice or how his tail smacks you in the thigh when it wags too hard

but you're reading the (painfully obvious) signs, of course, trying to contribute in your own way. you let him crawl all over you, you don't push him away when he tries draping himself over you on the couch like you would with anyone else

you don't recoil when he makes you play glorified fetch with him, (really it's not catch at all, he's purposefully missing the ball because there's no way he's that bad at catching) and you refrain from teasing him about the wild glimmer in his eyes when he brings it back to you

remus notices it when he realizes that sirius is drooling on you in his sleep, and that you're not saying a word. he glances at you for a moment, brows furrowed, until they relax, his face slipping into a sly smile, "Holy shit, it's puppy love."

"Remus John Lupin, I swear to god-"

"Wha'ssa matter," Sirius rouses from his sleep, blinking wearily up at you two, "wha' happened?"

"Nothing," You lay a soft hand on Sirius's head, rubbing between his ears and laughing when he shuddered, "G'back to sleep, dog breath."

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #sirius black oneshot #sirius black one-shot #sirius black one shot #sirius black headcanon #sirius black headcanons #sirius black hc #sirius black hcs #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanfic #sirius black blurb #sirius black dialogue #sirius black drabble

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hawaii5-0gurl · 3 years

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Mommy’s Day

Characters: Steve McGarrett X Reader, Lani (OFC)

Word Count: 1324

Warnings: Fluff, Tiny bit of angst but not really

A/n: I know for some people Mother’s Day is over but I still have a few hours left here. I wanted to write something really quick, this is what I came up with.

Tumblr Masterlist

You woke up to the sound of something dropping on the ground. You got up quickly, grabbing your gun and your phone from the top of your dresser and made your way down the stairs. You didn’t notice that Steve wasn’t in bed when you left. Before you got to the bottom of the stairs you dialed 911 but didn’t press call. You started hearing clanking noises coming from the kitchen. You slowly walk towards the kitchen, when you were about to round the corner, you heard Lani, your four-year old’s voice.

“Daddy, you gotta be quiet. You’re gunna wake mommy.” You could tell by the tone in her voice she was making her angry face.

“I’m sorry Lani. It slipped out of my hand.”

You let out a sigh of relief, as you leaned against the wall. You walked over to the closet and placed your gun in one of your many lock boxes. Then you walked to the kitchen and leaned against the doorframe. You could see a large mess on the island and the stove, you were just hoping that you didn’t have to clean it up. After a few seconds Steve looked over and saw you.

“Hey! You’re supposed to be sleeping.” He walked over, wrapping his arms around your waist before pulling you in for a kiss.

“I was but loud noise woke me up.” You cocked one of your eyebrows at him.

“I TOL YOU DADDY!” Steve let one of his arms fall as he turned to see Lani walking over to the two of you.

You just smiled at her. As she made her way over her hands went to her hips.

“It was gunna be a surprise. Breakfast in bed, so go back to bed.” She pointed towards the stairs.

She was almost a carbon copy of you, attitude and all. You were so happy that she had gotten her father’s hazel eyes. You leaned down to look her in the eyes.

“Yes ma’am.” You even gave her a little solute.

You stood back up before turning around to walk back up the stairs. You made a quick stop at the closet to get your gun, so you could put it back upstairs.

“What are you doing?” He walked over to you, pointing to the pistol in your hand.

“Well, when you are woken up by loud noises and you tend to lean on the side of caution.”

“Daddy!” Lani was standing in the doorway watching the two of you. “It’s smoking!”

Steve quickly ran back to the kitchen. You just started laughing, putting your gun back and going to help your poor husband. You walked in to see what you think used to be eggs, burnt into black lumps that were stuck to the bottom of the pan. You let out a small chuckle, walking over and taking the pan from him and putting it into the sink to soak.

“How about this. Since we are all awake, I take my two favorite girls out to breakfast. Yeah?” He put his hands out to the sides to see if you and Lani agreed.

You looked over to her, she had her thinking face on. She pursed her lips to one side and then she moved to the other side while she tilted her head. It was the cutest thing.

“What do you say baby? Should we let daddy take us to breakfast?”

“Yes.” She smiled and ran up to you. You picked her up, she looked at you. “Happy mommy’s day.”

“Thank you baby.” You gave her a kiss on the cheek, but then you started blowing a raspberry on her cheek which caused her to laugh. “Okay go upstairs, I will be up there in a second.”

You set her down and she took off as fast as her short legs could carry her. Then you turned your attention to the task at hand: the kitchen. You started cleaning up the island but were suddenly stopped when a pair of hands came from behind you and landed over the top of yours.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m just tidying up. You already know I won’t be able to leave if the kitchen looks like this.” You turned around to face him.

“I can take care of it. Go upstairs and get ready.”

“It will go faster with the two of us.”

“No, what’s going to happen is I’m going to get kicked out and you’re going to do it yourself.”

“If you already know that then why are we having this conversation?”

“Okay, you have three seconds to get out of here or else. One…”

“Or else what?”

“you’ll see. Two…”

“Three. What now McGarrett?” You just tilted your head at him.

“You asked for it.” He quickly threw you over his shoulder and started walking towards the stairs.

“Steve, put me down.” You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Nope.”

“Fine.”

He made it all the way to Lani’s room before setting you down. You went in to help your daughter get ready. Steve went to your shared room and quickly changed before coming back to block you from going down the stairs. Once you saw him you just went to your room and got dressed. When you came out, Steve and Lani were gone.

You walked down the stairs to see them waiting by the door for you. Steve had a bouquet of your favorite flowers and a box of your favorite candy in his hands. While Lani had a small box and a card in her hands.

“Look at the two of you.”

You walked over to them. You crouched down in front of Lani first, Steve just watched you and Lani have your moment. She handed the box and card to you. You opened the card it was a drawing of you, her and Steve.

“This is adorable, thank you.”

“Open the box mommy.” She points to the box in your hand.

“Okay.” You open the box and see a heart necklace. It has “I love you Mommy” engraved on the front and Lani McGarrett on the back. “This is beautiful.”

You looked at Lani and gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. You let go of her and stood up. You turned to Steve, putting the car and the box in one hand. you reached up with the other and placed it behind his neck pulling him down into a kiss.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome baby.” He kisses you again only to be interrupted by your daughter.

“EWW!” You both looked down to see her covering her eyes.

“What do you mean “eww”?” Steve set down the bouquet and picked up Lani.

“I don’t wike it.”

“Oh really?” You looked at Steve with a mischievous look. You both instantly kissed her on the cheek, causing her to laugh. She quickly recovered and gave you both a pouty face.

“I hungry. Can we go eat now?”

“Of course baby. Let’s go.”

The three of you went to breakfast. You had an amazing time. After you had breakfast, you really just wanted to come back home and have a chill day. That’s exactly what you did. You watched movies, played games, went swimming, made sandcastles. You even made Steve into a merman. It was his fault for laying down and falling asleep on the beach. After all of that, you guys came in showered, Lani had her bath. Then all cuddled in yours and Steve’s bed, while watching a movie. Lani was out after ten minutes. Steve was starting to do the sleep bob when you told him to just lay down and sleep. You turned the movie off and laid down yourself. Today was the perfect day. You were so happy to have both of them. You couldn’t have asked for a better way to spend your Mother’s Day than with the two loves of your life.

Tags:

@camillyb (figured you would like this so I tagged you)

#Steve McGarrett #Steve McGarrett X Reader #Hawaii Five-0 #Hawaii Five 0 #hawaii 5 0 #hawaii 5-0 #steve mcgarett fluff #Mother's Day Fan Fiction #fanfic #fan fiction #fanfiction #fan fic

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chicgeekgirl89 · 1 year

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If Only in My Dreams

Fandom: 911 Lone Star

Characters: Carlos Reyes, T.K. Strand, Paul Strickland, Judd Ryder, Nancy Gillian, Mateo Chavez, Marjan Marwani

Rating: K

Summary: It's been a rough few months in the Strand-Reyes household and now Carlos finds himself stranded in the middle of nowhere two days before Christmas. Will he make it home in time? Or will he be spending the holiday on his own?

A/N: Well, this is now a pretty belated Christmas fic because I was sick and stressed and blah, blah, blah. But I mean, Christmas can really be any time in our hearts, right?I had the idea of giving Carlos a little Hallmark holiday treatment and thus this fic was born. It became a lot more than I thought it would be, definitely one of the tougher things I've ever written. It's set a few years down the road when Tarlos is well established in their marriage. Hope you enjoy!

Read on AO3

He’s not supposed to be here.

Carlos sighs and eases his foot off the gas yet again, squinting as he tries to see through the flying snow and darkening skies. He was supposed to be home three hours ago, and he’s still at least an hour and a half away, more if the weather continues to worsen. T.K. is going to kill him.

He pushes the button on his dash to dial his husband’s number, trying to figure out what he’s going to say. The call connects and the bright, hopeful tone of T.K.’s voice fills the car. “Hey, you almost here?”

He can’t even muster up fake cheer. There’s no point. What he has to say isn’t cheerful or merry in the least. “Hey,” he says and he can imagine the look on T.K.’s face at his tone of voice.

“You’re not going to make it,” T.K. says immediately, his voice going flat. Amazing that he can get all of that from “hey.”

“I’m so sorry,” Carlos tells him, meaning it from the bottom of his heart. “They sent me out into the hill country to interview some witnesses, and everything took longer than expected, and the weather sucks and…I’m just really sorry.”

“It’s fine,” T.K. says, but Carlos can tell it’s not. “I’ll tell the gang the party’s off.”

“No, no,” Carlos says quickly. “Don’t do that. All the food’s in the fridge, Grace and Paul will know what to do with the appetizers. Get started without me and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

They’ve already postponed their holiday 126 hang twice because of this damn case and Carlos had sworn up and down that they’d make it happen this time. They’re two days away from Christmas, if they don’t do it now it’s not going to happen. Even if he can’t be there, he can’t stand the thought of T.K. missing out on yet another thing because of him. There’s been too much of that lately.

There’s a long pause before T.K. finally speaks. “Okay. I’ll save you a plate.”

“Thanks,” Carlos says, somehow feeling even guiltier. He doesn’t deserve even that small kindness right now.

There’s a muffled noise in the background and then T.K. says, “I have to go, Nancy’s here. Be careful.”

“Okay, hey I lo—“ Carlos stops himself when he realizes the line has already gone dead.

Perfect.

A particularly strong gust of wind makes his car shudder and he taps carefully at the gas again. At the rate he’s going he’s going to be lucky to make it home by New Year’s. Why the hell is it snowing like this in Texas on the day before Christmas Eve? Next time he votes he’s going to take an even more serious look at the candidates who are working against climate change because this is ridic—

There’s a huge crack, so loud it sounds like an explosion, and a massive tree crashes down across the road in front of him. Carlos yells and hits the breaks, but they slip and slide on the snowy road, the car heading straight for the gigantic trunk.

He feels the impact, a sharp flash of pain, and then he knows nothing.

“Come on pretty boy, wake up for me.”

A rough voice, one he’s never heard before is issuing commands, but all Carlos can focus on is the pain radiating through his entire body, especially his skull. He groans and lifts a hand to his throbbing head, sucking in a sharp breath when he finds a gash in his forehead, his fingers sticky with blood.

“Oh good, you’re alive,” the voice says and Carlos slowly turns his head, squinting at the light coming through his window. “Thought maybe I was looking at a corpse.”

Carlos’ addled, aching brain blurts out one clear thought as he stares at the man outside his car. “Santa?”

“Not quite,” the man says, although with his fluffy white beard and the red knit hat on his head, the resemblance is uncanny. “Name’s Russell actually.”

“Wha—“ Carlos clears his throat and tries to get his bearings. “What happened?”

“Well, can’t say for sure cuz I just found you and all, but don’t take a genius to figure out you smashed into this here tree,” Russell says, nodding toward the giant trunk, several of whose branches have smashed through Carlos’ windshield. The one closest to Carlos’ face is gleaming with something shiny and wet in the light of Russell’s flashlight, and Carlos’ stomach lurches when he realizes it’s his own blood.

His chest hurts from the seatbelt and his right hip aches, it must have been at a weird angle when he hit the tree, but fortunately he’s not pinned in. He reaches down, fumbling with the seatbelt’s release, and Russell opens the door to help him. “Let’s get you out of here,” he says. “Don’t want you to freeze to death. What’s your name?”

“Carlos,” he says, gritting his teeth as he gingerly slides out of the car and tentatively puts weight on his injured leg. “Did you already call 911?”

“Wouldn’t matter if I did,” Russell says. “It’s over thirty minutes to the closest emergency services and it’ll be three times that in this weather. Sides, this road’s the only way in or out of Evergreen, and in case ya didn’t notice…” He nods toward the giant trunk blocking the entire road.

“Shit,” Carlos mutters. “I need to call my husband—“

“Cell service is out too. Come on. I’ve got a landline back at my place. I can patch you up there.”

The journey back to Russell’s place is arduous. The ground is slippery and by the time they get there Carlos’ leg, which was only pretty painful before, is now a fireball of agony. “Okay, let’s sit you down right here,” Russell says, settling him into a chair by a cozy fireplace that is throwing out amazing heat.

“You know you shouldn’t leave a fire burning when you’re not home,” Carlos says, shivering and wincing as he tries to get comfortable.

Russell quirks an eyebrows. “What are you? The fire police?”

“I’m a detective,” Carlos tells him. “But my husband is a former firefighter.”

“Well la dee da,” Russell says as he putters around the small stove across the room. “Let me tell you something Mr. Detective, I’ve been leaving my fire burning here for thirty years and I’ve never once had a problem.”

“Right, sorry, none of my business,” Carlos tells him.

He takes a look around the cabin. It’s small, just a living room and kitchen area and what looks to be a doorway to a bedroom off to the side. There are taxidermy animals on the wall, a couple deer and a decent sized bass. There’s a Christmas tree haphazardly decorated with a string of lights and a few ornaments, and Carlos finds himself noticing that it is definitely too close to the fireplace and has to bite his tongue as thoughts of spontaneous combustion swirl through his mind.

“All right, coffee’ll be ready in a few minutes.” Russell looks at him appraisingly. “You do drink coffee right? Not just that matcha or chai tea crap?”

“Coffee is great,” Carlos tells him.

“Good, never can tell with you city people,” Russell says, dragging a stool over to sit in front of Carlos. “All right, let’s take a look at you.”

He inspects the gash on Carlos’ forehead then hands him a dish towel. “Hold that on there. You’re still bleeding pretty good, probably got a concussion too.”

Judging from the terrible headache, Russell is probably right. Carlos lets him undo the buttons on his shirt and take a look at his chest. He shrugs. “Don’t look too bad. You’re gonna know where your seatbelt was for a while, but that’s the point of wearing it.” He leans back. “Can’t do nothing about your hip, but I can stitch up that gash on your forehead if you want. Couple shots of whiskey, you won’t even feel it.”

Carlos grunts out a laugh and then sees the look on Russell’s face. “You’re serious?”

“As a heart attack,” Russell tells him. “I’m a doctor.”

Carlos knows better than to judge a book by its cover, but he can’t help but be skeptical about this statement. “Really? What kind?”

“Veterinarian.”

Carlos tries not to let his face betray his thoughts. “I think I’ll wait.”

“Probably the right choice,” Russell concedes as he pulls out some gauze and bandages. “You got such nice cheekbones, don’t think your husband would want you walking around looking like Frankenstein.”

By the time he’s done bandaging Carlos’ forehead the coffee is ready. He hands Carlos a steaming mug and despite the mild nausea swirling in his stomach, yet another sign of his probable concussion, he takes a sip.

It tastes like ass. Straight up ass. He tries not to gag as he sets it down on the side table next to him, wondering if he can get away without drinking anymore. “You said you had a land line?” he asks, swallowing hard as he tries to rid his mouth of the acrid taste.

“Yep I did,” Russell says, grabbing a cordless phone from the wall next to the stove. “Long as we got electricity it should work just fine.”

Carlos dials T.K.’s number from memory and then waits anxiously as it rings. He’s in the middle of a party and it’s a random number, chances are T.K. will let it go to voicemail. He knows all of this, but his heart still sinks when he hears T.K.’s voice telling him to leave a message. “Hey babe,” he says, trying to keep his voice light. “I’m fine. I’m calling from someone else’s phone. There was a problem with the car. Give me a call back at this number when you can.” He pauses for a moment, his throat growing tight. “I love you.”

He hangs up and hands the phone back to Russell. “Thanks,” he says.

“No problem,” Russell tells him. “So, how long you two been married?”

“Four years,” Carlos says, hardly believing it. It still seems like only yesterday that T.K. dropped into his life and changed his whole world.

“And you didn’t tell him all the truth of what’s going on because…?”

“Because I don’t want to leave bad news on a voicemail,” Carlos says. “And I don’t want him to worry more than he needs to.”

“Spouses huh? Always worried,” Russell says.

“Yeah,” Carlos says unhappily.

“You two have plans for Christmas?”

“We’re supposed to go to my parents’,” Carlos tells him. “My sisters and their families will be there. And T.K.’s dad sometimes comes too.”

“Sounds nice,” Russell says.

“What about you?” Carlos asks.

“Oh you know, usually I travel around a bit,” Russell says vaguely. “Kind of a busy day for me actually.”

Carlos ponders this cryptic statement and is about to ask more questions, but the phone rings and his heart leaps in his chest, part anxiety and part desperation to talk to his husband. “S’pose this is for you,” Russell says handing it over.

“T.K.?” Carlos says as soon as the call connects.

“Carlos? What’s going on? What number is this?”

Carlos can hear the sounds of the party in the background, their friends laughing and talking, and it makes his heart ache. Tears spring unexpectedly to his eyes and he struggles to speak around them. “Hey, babe, listen, I’m—I don’t think I’m going to make it home tonight.”

There is an incredibly long pause. “What are you talking about?” T.K. asks, his voice tight. “What do you mean you’re not going to make it home? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. A tree fell across the road,” Carlos says. “It’s the only way in or out of here and with the weather and the holiday, I don’t think the emergency crews are going to get out here tonight.”

“A tree? Seriously Carlos? Where are you?” T.K. asks.

“Some town called Evergreen. I’m at a house near the front of the pass,” Carlos tells him. “A man named Russell was kind enough to take me in.” He tries to infuse his tone with lightness. “I’ll be there as soon as the road is clear in the morning. I’m so sorry.”

T.K. sighs and it’s so deep, so exhausted, so full of things that he’s clearly holding back that it makes Carlos want to reach through the phone and cling to him and apologize and quit his job and take them both to bed and never leave. “I just…I can’t believe this,” T.K. says.

Carlos can. It feels like all the universe has done lately is throw them shitball after shitball. “I’m sorry,” is all he can say.

“You’ll call when you’re on the road?” T.K. asks.

“Yes,” Carlos tells him. “Tell everyone I say hey.”

“Yeah,” T.K. says, sounding distant.

“Bye,” Carlos says softly before he hangs up.

“You look like someone put coal in your Christmas stocking,” Russell says.

Carlos shrugs and then winces at the way the movement hurts his body. “He’s upset.”

“That you’re stranded?”

“That I’m not home when I said I would be. Again,” Carlos says, the weight of that statement not feeling as heavy as it should. It’s been this way for months. He’s used to it now.

“You got an issue making it home on time?” Russell asks.

It is not this man’s business in the slightest, but Carlos feels vulnerable and hurt and so he opens his mouth and lets the words he’s been keeping to himself fall out. “I made detective a year ago,” Carlos tells him. “And ever since then it’s been…tough. The hours are longer, the work is more intense. And if it was just that, we might be okay but we’ve also…” Here the words get stuck in his throat and he has to force them out. “We’ve been trying to have a baby. We looked into surrogacy, but the cost is…it’s too much for us right now, so we’ve been working on an adoption, but nothing ever seems to go through. We’ll get so close and then just…nothing. It’s happened twice now and T.K….he’s not taking it well.”

“And what about you? How are you taking it?” Russell asks.

“I mean, it sucks,” Carlos says. “But what can you do? When the time is right it’ll happen.”

“Bullshit.”

The harsh response has Carlos’ snapping his head up. “What?” is all he manages to say.

“Kid stuff hurts. Always. No matter what. If you want and don’t got ‘em, if you have ‘em and they’re strugglin’, if they’re doin’ good and they grow up and leave. It always hurts. You should let it hurt.” He stands up and stokes the fire a bit. “Pretendin’ everything’s fine don’t fix anything. Just makes it hurt more. And probably pisses off your husband. If you two are as close as I think you might be, he knows you’re upset. Hiding it from him isn’t helping anything.”

Carlos lets out a surprised laugh. “Do you moonlight as a family therapist?”

“Nope. Just seen shit.”

“Any suggestions on how to deal with the fact that my husband is pissed off that I missed every night of Hanukkah, and now I’m stuck out here breaking yet another promise to him?”

Russell squints at him. “You sure he’s mad? Maybe he just misses you. Sometimes those two things look an awful lot alike.”

With T.K. it’s hard to tell sometimes. All they’ve done lately is fight. About the adoption, about Carlos’ work hours, about T.K.’s dad overstepping his bounds, about the dishes in the sink, the towel on the floor, the grocery list…Carlos hates it. He never imagined they’d be this kind of couple. God, he can’t even remember the last time they’d had sex, they barely even sleep in the same bed anymore, their shifts never seem to line up, and if they are both home they’re cranky or exhausted or both.

He knows T.K. gets it deep down, they both understand that their jobs make for a weird lifestyle sometimes, but that doesn’t make it any easier. He doesn’t think that Carlos wants to not be home. But it still sucks. And they’re both feeling the suck.

“I don’t know,” Carlos finally says.

“Well you like him enough to want a kid with him,” Russell says. “And to try and protect him from what’s really going on with you. So that oughta mean something.”

“Yeah,” Carlos says slowly, his mind turning possibilities over and over.

Russell checks his watch. “Well I gotta turn in. Make yourself at home. Feel free to sack out on the sofa, but maybe try not to fall asleep. Head wound and all that,” he says, tapping his own forehead to make the point.

“I’ll do my best,” Carlos tells him.

Russell disappears into the bedroom, leaving Carlos alone by the fireplace with nothing but his aching body and whirring mind for company.

His eyelids grow heavy in the darkness of the cabin and he has to force them back open again. Every part of him is exhausted. He wants a hot shower, his bed, and his husband. And he’s not sure he’ll get any of it anytime soon.

He resorts to scrolling through pictures on his phone, even though the brightness only adds to his headache. There are pictures of his nieces and nephews, the 126 gang, the last time he and T.K. visited Jonah and Enzo, a couple screen shots of things he’d thought T.K. might like for Christmas and had saved so he would remember.

He scrolls back and back until he finds their wedding day. They have hundreds of photos, but he finds his favorite: he’s laughing at something off camera, probably at one of his sisters, but T.K. is looking at him, his eyes so soft and full of love and adoration….He runs his thumb over their faces. He’d thought they’d be those people forever. But life and time are taking a toll, and he’s not sure they can ever go back to those bright, early days, when it felt like all they needed was each other.

Despite his best efforts he drifts off, half sleep, half hazy dreams punctuated by real life memories and disorientation every time he opens his eyes.

He wakes up in the morning stiff and cold and sore. Watery grey sunlight is filtering in the windows which display an icy winter wonderland outside.

He tries for a deep breath and winces; his chest hurts. He hopes it’s just the bruising from the seatbelt and not something worse.

“Mornin’,” Russell grunts as he shuffles out of the bedroom in a pair of red long johns.

“Good morning,” Carlos says, clearing his throat when his voice barely croaks out of his chest. “What um, what time do you think they’ll be around to clear the road?”

Russell shrugs. “Could be this morning, could be a few more hours. They’re not usually in a rush to get things moving up here.”

Carlos’ heart sinks again. He just wants to get home. “Need coffee?” Russell asks as he puts the pot on.

Carlos shakes his head. Not even the shivers running over his frame are going to convince him to drink another cup of this man’s coffee.

“You get some rest?” Russell asks as he pours his cup.

“A little,” Carlos says.

“You’re bleeding through those bandages,” Russell tells him, nodding toward his forehead. “Let me get some breakfast started and we’ll get you a fresh one.”

“Thank you,” Carlos says.

“You do any thinking last night?” Russell asks. “Get anything straightened out in the pretty head of yours?”

“Maybe?” Carlos says. “I don’t know. I just…want my husband.”

“That’s a good sign,” Russell says. “When you’re in trouble, usually the thing you love most comes to mind. Good way to sort out yer priorities.”

Carlos hmms in response. Russell has just fired up the stove when they hear a soft buzzing sound echoing around outside. “Sounds like you might be gettin’ out of here sooner rather than later,” Russell says, turning the stove off and putting his boots on instead.

“You can eat first,” Carlos says, then wonders if the man is more interested in getting the stranger out of his home than eating breakfast.

“Not a problem,” Russell says. “I’ll let ‘em know you’re up here and need a ride and a tow.”

Carlos heads into the bathroom after Russell goes out, his hip protesting each step. It feels like someone has driven an ice pick into it. He winces as he catches a glance of himself in the mirror; despite his best efforts to clean up last night there’s still blood on his face and crusted into his hair. His eyes are bloodshot and there are dark circles underneath. He looks like hell.

As he limps back to the couch he can hear voices outside, indistinct but moving closer. He should call T.K. again before he leaves, let him know he’ll be home as soon as he deals with the car.

He’s reaching for the phone when the front door opens, a blast of chilly air immediately filling the small cabin. He blinks a couple times against the brightness and then his breath catches in his throat. “T.K.?”

“Carlos!” He crosses the room in three quick strides and drops to his knees next to the sofa.

Paul of all people appears in the doorway next. “He in here?”

“Yeah,” T.K. calls over his shoulder, his eyes running over Carlos from top to bottom.

“Oh good,” Paul says in relief as he steps closer. “Hey Carlos.”

“T.K., how…how are you here?” Carlos asks incredulously.

“I came to find you,” T.K. says, like it’s the most simple, most obvious thing in the world.

“We could barely keep him from running straight out the door last night after you called,” Paul says. “Had to practically tie him down until sunrise.”

T.K. reaches up and gently pulls the bandage from Carlos’ forehead and Carlos watches his husband slip into paramedic mode. “Paul, can you get Nancy?” he asks.

“Nancy’s here?” Carlos is really struggling to figure out if this is real or if he’s having some kind of concussion induced dream.

“Everybody’s here,” Paul corrects him. “I’ll be right back.”

“You said you were okay,” T.K. says, his hands running aimlessly over the front of Carlos’ jacket, eyes soft with concern.

“I didn’t want you to worry.” Carlos’ throat has gone thick with emotion, making it hard to speak.

“You should have thought of that before you smashed your car into a tree,” T.K. says, trying for levity and failing. “What else hurts?”

“My chest,” Carlos admits. “And my right hip.”

T.K.’s hands immediately go to the offending area and Carlos lets out a grunt of pain. “What does Paul mean, ‘everybody’s here’?” he asks.

T.K. shrugs as he begins opening Carlos’ shirt with practiced fingers. “I told them I was coming up here to get you and they all showed up at sunrise.”

“I’m here!” Nancy says, appearing in the doorway and flinging out the arm holding a first aid kit with a dramatic flair. “You got yourself a partner who can do it all! Rip off giant tree branches and fling them forty feet, then tenderly caress a patient’s wounds.”

“Ugh, you’d better not be caressing other people,” Mateo says coming in behind her. “Judd wants to know if you want us to call an ambulance.”

“Yes,” T.K. says at the same time Carlos says, “No.”

“Carlos, this has to get stitched,” T.K. tells him as he probes at the wound on his forehead.

“Ooh yeah, what the fuck dude? I thought you told T.K. you were all right,” Nancy says as she kneels beside her partner and starts fishing through the bag.

“I am all right,” Carlos protests, even as T.K. pushes against the bruising on his chest, making him suck in a sharp breath.

“Soooo…is that a yes or a no to the ambulance?” Mateo asks.

Carlos looks at his husband, practically begging with his eyes. T.K. sighs and gives in. “No ambulance. We can drive.”

“Cool. I think we’ll be done in like another fifteen minutes or so,” Mateo says as he turns to leave, nearly bumping into Russell on his way out the door.

“Well this is quite a rescue squad you’ve got going,” Russell says. “Think they brought more people than live in the entire town. You’re awful lucky.”

“Yeah,” Carlos says quietly, “I am.”

“This that handsome husband you were talking about?”

“Yes, this is T.K.,” Carlos says. “And this is Nancy.”

“Oh I met Nancy already,” Russell says. “Marjan too. I want them around the next time I need to haul a big ole buck out of the woods. Most badass ladies I’ve ever seen.”

“And I told Russell that while I’m flattered he thinks I’m capable, I don’t want any part of animal murder,” Nancy says matter-of-factly, flashing Russell a charming smile before going back to flicking a penlight into Carlos’ eyes. “Pupils are equal and reactive.”

“Pulse is steady,” T.K. says from where he’s slipped his fingers underneath Carlos’ sleeve. “Some abdominal tenderness, but belly is soft.” He meets Carlos’ eyes. “Can you walk?”

Carlos nods. “Okay, let’s get this bandage changed and then we’ll see about getting you out of here,” Nancy tells him.

“I got it,” T.K. says, taking the gauze from her hands and using it to tenderly clean around the edges of the wound.

“Thank you,” Carlos says quietly.

He lets them poke and prod and bandage and do whatever else makes them happy, then says goodbye to Russell, making a mental note to send the man a box of his mom’s cookies as a thanks. Paul returns to the cabin and he and T.K. each get under an arm to help Carlos limp down to the road where Judd has pulled his truck up as close as he can get to the house since the driveway is slick with ice and snow. “Hey look who it is!” Judd says with a smile. “Not looking too bad for someone who turned his car into a pancake.”

“I’ve been worse,” Carlos agrees. “Seriously, I can’t thank you guys enough for coming out here on Christmas Eve, taking time away from your families. You have no idea how much it means to me.”

“Can’t think of any better way to celebrate the season of giving than by helping out a friend,” Judd tells him.

“Yeah, we were happy to help. They hardly ever let me use the chainsaw,” Mateo says, letting it rip for effect.

“Oh my god, put that down before you kill someone,” Marjan admonishes with a roll of her eyes. “Glad you’re relatively okay Carlos.”

“Oh, and Tommy said to tell you she’s sorry and she hopes you feel better,” Nancy says. “She and the girls had a flight to catch, otherwise she would have been here too.”

The kindness of this group is beyond anything Carlos could have imagined and he opens his mouth to tell them all that, but a gust of wind blows by making him shiver instead. He feels T.K.’s grip tighten on his arm. “Okay, time to go,” his husband says.

They help him into the back of the truck and T.K. climbs in beside him while Paul, Nancy, Marjan, and Mateo get into Paul’s truck. Carlos watches the landscape flash by, wincing when they come upon the frozen body of his own car, which has been moved to the side of the road. The offending tree has been cut apart, the limbs and trunk all settled into neatly stacked pieces on the shoulder. It must have taken a ton of work for them to get it cleaned up.

“We’ll figure out the car later,” T.K. says as his gaze follows Carlos’. “Russell said it could stay for a few days, nobody will mind.”

Carlos nods slightly, exhaustion and the warmth of the car inviting him to close his eyes. “Hey, no!” T.K. snaps at him, a little more roughly than usual. “Do not go to sleep.”

Carlos forces his eyes open again, but it takes a lot of effort. “Hey, did I tell you what Charlie’s got on her Christmas list?” Judd asks, glancing at them both in the rearview mirror. “My girl wants a damn unicorn. You want to tell me how I’m supposed to make that happen?”

He keeps the conversation going, all of it mindless and easy as they drive. He drops them at the emergency room doors, offering to wait, but T.K. waves him off and says they’ll get a cab home. Carlos doesn’t get a say, but if he did he would agree. Judd’s already taken enough time away from Grace and the kids today.

The hospital is slow and boring and very uncomfortable. They end up getting a plastic surgeon to stitch up his forehead and the man is so careful that it takes forever. Carlos should be grateful that he’ll end up with minimal scarring, but mostly he’s cold and annoyed.

T.K. is there beside hime the whole time asking questions, watching the doctors and nurses like a hawk, and texting updates to their parents and friends. It would be comforting except for the fact that his husband talks to everyone except for him. T.K.’s tone is all business, clinical. It’s like Carlos isn’t even in the room. Like he’s just some other patient from a call to be examined and analyzed.

In the end Carlos is diagnosed with a mild concussion and some bruising. He’s sent home with a prescription for PT to help rehab his hip back into shape along with instructions to make a follow up appointment with his doctor to check the stitches in his forehead.

It’s an incredible relief when they finally get home and he’s able to sink down into their sofa. He wants to sleep for year. But there are things that need to be taken care of first.

“Okay, I have texted your mom and told her we won’t make it tonight, but we will try for tomorrow afternoon depending on how you’re feeling,” T.K. says, eyes glued to his phone as he sends a flurry of text messages. “And I have told my dad not to come over and that if he really feels the need to bring you some herbal supplements he can bring them to the ranch tomorrow.”

“Thank you for taking care of all of this,” Carlos tells him.

“Yeah, yeah of course,” T.K. says, but his voice sounds detached, like he’s talking about picking up groceries instead of dealing with a minor crisis. “The doctor said you can have more pain medication in about an hour, and you should eat something.” He snaps his fingers. “I’ll make that soup you like. The one your mom always makes? We have the recipe for that somewhere, right?”

“T.K.,” Carlos says softly as his husband moves into the kitchen and starts rifling through recipe binders.

“And we should schedule you a chiropractor appointment,” T.K. continues. “They’re probably not open today or tomorrow, but we can try for Friday. The sooner you get seen the better.”

“T.K.,” Carlos says a little louder, a hint more commanding. He wants his husband’s attention and so far T.K. hasn’t managed to make more than two seconds of eye contact with him in the last five hours. It’s killing him and he wants it fixed now.

T.K. glances at him, but doesn’t stop searching through their kitchen drawers. “You should be leaning against a pillow. And we should ice your hip.”

“T.K. please,” Carlos says. “Please I—can you just please come here?”

T.K. hesitates before giving in and moving to sit on the sofa. His posture is stiff and he’s so much further away than Carlos wants him to be. He might as well be back in Russell’s cabin, that’s how big the gap feels.

“You’re mad,” Carlos says quietly.

“I’m not mad,” T.K. responds immediately, but there’s no warmth or reassurance in his voice.

Carlos huffs in frustration. “Your face is doing that stiff, bland, dead eyed thing. You’re mad.”

T.K. lets out a slow breath. “Okay fine. I’m mad. But I’m trying very hard not to be.”

“Why?” Carlos asks again.

“Why what? Why am I trying not to be mad? Because you’re hurt and yelling at injured people is kind of frowned upon.”

Carlos’ nerves are frayed, all his walls down, and instead of continuing the conversation in the calm, grown up way he’d mentally promised he would, he instead blurts out, “God, would you please stop treating me like I’m just one of your patients.”

It’s all the incentive T.K. needs. “That is the entire fucking point!” he snaps back. “You’re not just a patient! You’re my husband! Of course I’m mad, Carlos! You lied to me about being hurt. Do you know how awful it felt to show up and find the car, blood all over, and you nowhere in sight?”

“There was nothing you could do,” Carlos says, knowing it’s a weak excuse. “I knew you would just worry and—“

“I was already worried!” T.K. practically yells it, just barely restraining himself. “You weren’t home when you were supposed to be! You were out there, alone, on a freezing cold night with some strange ass man! You were supposed to be here. I—I wanted you to be here.”

He runs a hand over his face. “I am trying so hard not to be the ‘bad husband’ who blames you for your work hours and all the things you’ve missed lately, because I know it’s not your fault and that if you could fix it you would. But god damn it Carlos, I need you to be here and you’re not. There’s so much going on…I mean we’ve missed out on two babies we thought were going to be ours and it feels like you don’t even care—“

“Of course I care!” Anger spikes through his chest and he feels his entire body tense up, ready for the umpteenth round of their ongoing arguments.

“Well it hasn’t felt like it!” T.K. says. “And I kept reminding myself that we were going to have all this time together at the holidays to figure it out and talk about it but you’ve missed everything. You haven’t been here and we haven’t talked and it fucking hurts. And then you go and wrap your car around a tree and don’t even tell me about it.”

He looks so hurt, so sad, but he finally meets Carlos’ eyes. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with that Carlos. You’re shuttin me out. And that feels…really shitty on top of how shitty I already felt.”

“I know you feel shitty, that’s why I was trying not to add onto it!” Carlos tells him, feeling irritation burn in his bloodstream. “T.K. I have tried to talk to you about this stuff, but every time I bring it up, you change the subject or say you’re too tired or just flat out ignore me.”

“Does trying to talk to me about it include all the jabs about dirty dishes and putting empty milk cartons back in the fridge? Because if that’s your way of starting a conversation about our marital struggles, I have to tell you I don’t find it particularly effective.”

“You know that kind of thing drives me crazy!” Carlos tells him.

“And you know it drives me crazy when you won’t communicate!” T.K. cries in frustration. “You bottle up all those feelings inside of you and don’t say anything until they just come exploding out in the form of telling me off for putting your jeans in the dryer! Why can’t you just say that you’re sad about the baby? Why can’t you just admit that your work hours suck right now and they’re making you a cranky hot mess?”

“Oh I’m a cranky hot mess?” Carlos says incredulously. “You slept on the couch three nights last week because you didn’t want to even be in the same room as me! And when I tried to talk about getting stuff for the party with our friends, you called me anal retentive! And now here we are, and I’m trying to talk to you again and we can’t even get through it without a full on meltdown!”

“Okay, all right, enough,” T.K. says holding up a hand. “I didn’t mean to start this tonight. I’m sorry I—“ he shakes his head and his shoulders slump. “I’m sorry.”

The apology softens both of them. They’re tired, wrung out, with no energy left to keep hurling hurtful barbs.

“I’m sorry too,” Carlos says. “You’re right, I hate not being here, and it’s killing me. Every plan we’ve had to cancel, every night we’ve been apart, I’ve spent every second of it wishing we were together. I wanted to make latkes and put up the tree and cook for our friends and…” he swallows hard, fighting back tears. “I have felt so, so incredibly guilty for all of it. I didn’t want you to miss out on one more thing because of me.

“I don’t know how to fix any of this. Things are just…we don’t even feel like us anymore. And there never seems to be any time to try and figure it out. And I’ve missed you so much,” he chokes out. “These last few months… I’m so sorry about the arguing and the late nights and missing so much of our lives. I’m sorry that I didn’t share my feelings with you. I’m sorry about the party and Hanukkah and the babies and I—”

He’s full on crying now, everything finally unleashed after so many months of tension.

“Hey, hey.” T.K. pulls him in and Carlos clings to him, breathing in his scent, never wanting to let go.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers again. “I feel like it’s all my fault.”

“Why do you always think it’s your fault?” T.K. says, letting out half of a mirthless chuckle. “God Carlos, you do not have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. You can let me carry it with you. I promise, it’s not going to break me. But you holding back from us, that might.”

The words both hurt and heal him simultaneously. T.K. is right, he’s been trying to shoulder the burden of all this on his own instead of being honest about how he feels, and it’s taking a toll on them both. Their relationship is a partnership and he’s forgotten that lately.

Carlos opens his mouth to respond, but something new and terrible starts happening inside his body. He feels cold all over and pain is spiking through his skull. He lets out a grunt, pinching the bridge of his nose as he inhales sharply.

“Carlos? Hey, what’s wrong?” T.K. immediately crowds into Carlos’ space, searching for whatever is hurting his husband.

“My head,” Carlos grinds out.

“Okay, easy, easy,” T.K. says gently, pulling Carlos’ hands away so he can take a look. “Take some deep breaths all right? Focus on my voice.”

There’s a tenderness in his husband’s hands that Carlos has been craving and he leans into T.K.’s touch almost desperately. “I think that’s enough for tonight. We need to get you into bed,” T.K. says.

But they’re finally talking and Carlos is terrified that if they stop he’ll wake up in the morning back to where they started. “But we—“

“We’ll talk more in the morning,” T.K. tells him, and it’s sincere and honest. A promise that they’re not going to keep on like they have been.

Carlos doesn’t want to wait another minute, but the pounding in his head and the ache in his body aren’t letting up and it’s making it hard to focus, so he lets T.K. help him to his feet.

The sheets on their bed are chilly and he shivers as he slides between them. “I’m going to go make some tea, okay?” T.K. says after he pulls the blankets up and tucks Carlos in.

But Carlos catches his hand. “Stay?” he asks tentatively.

It’s a relief when T.K. doesn’t hesitate this time. He immediately comes back and curls up on his side of the bed, pulling Carlos into his lap. His fingers card gently through Carlos’ hair and Carlos closes his eyes. This moment feels like forgiveness.

He doesn’t wake up until the morning, wrapped up into T.K.’s arms in a way that feels so normal, so them, that it almost hurts. He’s missed this so much.

His head and body still ache, but not quite as sharply as the night before. He feels like he might be able to make it out to his parents’ place for their Christmas celebration after all.

T.K. stirs and Carlos stiffly turns over in their bed to face him. “Good morning,” he says softly.

“Morning. Merry Christmas,” T.K. mumbles, his hand instinctively finding the small of Carlos’ back to pull him close. “How are you feeling?”

“Not bad,” Carlos says. “A little sore.”

T.K. hmms in response, not fully awake enough yet to start pressing him for more details.

“I keep the ultrasound in my phone,” Carlos says softly, feeling as if his chest is cracking open.

That wakes his husband all the way up. T.K. looks at him and opens his mouth, but then closes it again, giving him the space to talk about something he hasn’t dared to share until now.

He takes a breath. “Sometimes I look at it and I think about the baby. The one from he second adoption. He’s around three months old now. And I imagine how our lives would be different if we’d gotten him. But we didn’t. And I know how sad you are and there’s not a god damn thing I can do to fix it and I hate it T.K. I hate that there is nothing I can do to fix it. I am failing you in so many ways right now and I—“

“Carlos,” T.K. says firmly. “You are not failing me.”

“But I’ve missed everything—“

“Because you have a demanding job,” T.K. says. “Which we knew when you took it. Carlos I am mad, I am upset, but it’s just…it’s just what it is. And I know that we’re going to get past this. Your job won’t always take up so much time. A baby will come when the moment is right. And you and me,” he brings Carlos’ knuckles to his lips and presses a kiss against them, “we’re going to keep talking and we’re going be fine. I’m not running away from this. Are you?”

The reassurance is a balm to Carlos’ battered soul. “Never,” he says. He looks down at their entwined hands and says the final thing that’s weighing so heavily on him. “T.K., I want a baby. I want my job. But I don’t want any of it without you. So if one or both of those things has to go…”

T.K. smiles, brushing his thumb under Carlos’ eye to remove a stray tear. “Your self sacrifice knows no bounds Carlos Nicolás Reyes Moreno.” He kisses Carlos’ forehead. “I love you so much. I love that you are willing to do whatever it takes to help us. But you’re not giving up your job. And we’re not giving up on a baby. We’ll figure it out.”

It’s as if something between the two of them has clicked back into place. For the first time in weeks peace settles into Carlos’ chest. And it’s so much of a relief that Carlos almost feels like crying all over again.

“Do you want to try and go out to the ranch?” T.K. asks.

Carlos nods and T.K. presses a gentle kiss to his forehead. “I’m going to take a shower and then we’ll get ready to go, okay?”

Carlos reaches for his phone as T.K. gets up, frowning when he notices how many missed calls and text messages he has from his time out at Russell’s. He’d been too exhausted to do anything about them last night. As he listens to his voicemail he freezes. “T.K.!”

“What?” T.K. calls back from the bathroom.

Carlos hits the speaker button, too stunned to speak. “Hi Mr. Strand-Reyes, this is Sandra calling from the adoption agency. We have another possible birth mother for you, she’s looked over your file and is very interested in you and your husband as potential adoptive parents. She’s already eight months along, so we’re looking to try and expedite things here. I know it’s the holidays, but please give me a call back as soon as possible.”

T.K. comes out of the bathroom a stunned look on his face and Carlos feels his eyes well up. “Do we—Are we doing this?” he asks.

“Do you still want to?”

Carlos looks at his husband, imagining what a great dad this kind, caring, sweet man he married is going to be, and he nods.

T.K.’s face breaks out into the smile that made Carlos fall in love with him in the middle of a honky tonk all those years ago. “Then let’s call her back.”

#Tarlos #Tarlos Fic #911lsfic #911 Lone Star Fanfiction #Carlos Reyes Whump #TK Strand #Car Crash #Christmas Fic #Fire Fam #Concussion #Head Wound #Stitches #Adoption #Baby Talk

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trektraveler · 3 years

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Chapter Three: Can't Be Claimed

Summary: Although Omegas had won the legal battle for equal rights, society was slow to catch up. Thought to be the weakest of the genders, they struggled to find opportunities that Alphas and Betas took for granted. Known as the Guillotine, Emmaline Beaumont was woman with a secret. Head of her family's company; she was smart, shrewd, and tough as nails. At sixteen she presented as Omega and she's hidden it ever since. Suppressants and hormone reassignment therapy allowed her to live her life as the Alpha her family needed her to be. The perfect solution, so long as she never allowed herself to be claimed. As the President of Winchester Inc. Dean's professional life was golden. As an unmated Alpha nearing forty, he was restless. Charming and devastatingly handsome, Dean was rarely without female company, but he wanted more. He wanted what his parents had. Someone made especially for him. His match, his true mate. Finding her on a trip to New York had been an unexpected dream come true, but no one ever said the road to love was easy.

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!OFC, Dean x OFC, Dean Winchester x OFC

Characters: Dean Winchester, OFC, Sam Winchester, Jessica Moore, John Winchester, Jody Mills

Chapter Three: Can't Be Claimed

Word Count: 3348

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