#caretaker carlos

[1heartfanfics]

Hi, I write sickfics too. But I'd love a sickfic written for me this time. Lol. Either a really sick Dean needing Sam to care for him, maybe after a really bad hunt. Or super sick TK, needing his dad to call Carlos to take of him. Or maybe a really sick Bucky, with a freaked out Peter swinging around frantic to find Steve to help the man while in the middle of a fire fight. :) Emeto galore would be much appreciated. Pretty please!!!

okay so I decided to write it for tarlos because I just watched the mid season finale, but let me know if you want me to do the supernatural one too.

Also this ended up getting a bit de-railed toward the end and being more about Owen coming to terms with the fact that T.K. has Carlos now and doesn't need him as much as he used to instead of actual caretaking. Whoops 🤷‍♀️

warning: depictions of vomit, brief mention of addiction history

T.K. had woken up with a headache. But that wasn’t uncommon, side effect of being a recovered addict he’d been told. So he didn’t think about it too much.

But it kept getting worse, even though he’d been sure to drink enough water and eat throughout the day. And then he realized when he helped Nancy lift a patient onto a gurney that his whole body ached. 

“You good?” Nancy had asked.

“Fine,” T.K. responded shortly. Nancy gave him a look that said she didn’t believe him, but she let it drop. 

By the end of their next call, he was dizzy and cold. They’d just dropped the patient at the hospital and we’re heading back to the station. 

“Hey. What’s wrong with you?” Nancy asked as she drove, glancing over at T.K., who was practically slumped against the window in the passenger seat. 

T.K. shrugged, “Not feeling super great I guess,” he admitted. 

“You need to tell Captain Vega dude,” she said as she pulled the ambulance into the station bay. 

“Shifts almost over anyway,” T.K. shrugged again, shaking his head. 

But then as soon as they’d parked the klaxon sounded. ‘Aid car BLANK requested’

“Alright then, let’s just head back out,” Tommy called from the back of the ambulance. 

Nancy shot T.K. a look. His face was pale, even more than it already had been. T.K.’s stomach, which had become increasingly upset for the past hour or so, suddenly flipped. He knew he was done for. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, then threw the door open and practically fell out, landing on his knees with a retch that brought his lunch up onto the floor of the station. 

“Woah!” Someone said, then T.K. felt a hand on his shoulder and his back. 

“Who else is a certified medic?” Another voice asked, Tommy maybe. Everything sounded far away and T.K.’s head was spinning. 

“Yo Marj! Paul!” The voice behind him yelled. Judd, T.K. could tell now.

There were footsteps approaching and then “Woah what happened to him?”

“One of you take T.K.’s place in the rig with Tommy and Nancy. The other one of y’all go get captain strand,” Judd instructed. 

T.K. could hear people running around, then the siren as the rig pulled back out of the station.

"Come on brother, let's get you up," Judd said, grabbing T.K. under his arms and pulling him to his feet. With Judd's help, he walked unsteadily over to one of the benches the firefighters use to put their boots on. As soon as he was sitting he slumped over, head in his hands as he breathed through another wave of nausea.

"T.K.? What happened?" his Dad was asking, suddenly at T.K.'s side with a hand on his shoulder.

When T.K. didn't answer Owen turned to Judd for answers.

"I just saw him spill out of the rig to hurl on the floor, that's all I know. You'd have to ask the girls but they had to run back out on a call. I sent Marj with 'em since they're down a medic," Judd shrugged.

"Thanks Judd," Owen sighed. "I've got him, you can get back to whatever you were working on."

"You sure? Cause he's looking pretty green cap," Judd pointed out.

"Son? Are you still feeling nauseous?" Owen asked.

T.K. just groaned in response, he didn't think he'd ever felt this sick in his life. It had gotten so bad so quickly. He was going to throw up again.

Thankfully Judd was on it, and a trash can magically appeared between T.K.'s knees just in time for him to heave over it. His body convulsed with another gag which brought up more of his stomach contents into the bin.

"Aw jeez kiddo," Owen muttered, sitting down beside T.K. to wrap an arm around him and rub a hand up and down his arm.

T.K. coughed and spit into the trash can, willing his stomach to stop contracting. There wasn't anything left in it to bring up. He felt so weak, like he could hardly hold himself up.

"Woah alright, I've gotcha," Judd was sitting on his other side, an arm wrapped around his chest to keep him from falling forward. T.K. dropped his head down into his hands again, elbows propped on his knees to keep himself upright.

Once Judd was confident that T.K. was stable enough, he pulled back, looking over at Owen. "We need to get him laying down," he said.

Owen nodded, "I think I'm just going to take him back to the house. You mind taking over for the rest of the day?" he asked.

"Of course cap, whatever you need," Judd agreed.

"T.K.? I'm going to get my stuff and then we'll go home okay?" Owen said, leaning down to try and meet his son's eyes.

T.K.'s eyes were shut, but he shook his head in response.

"No?" Owen asked, confused.

T.K. shook his head again, "Just call Carlos, please," he said quietly.

"Right. Of course," Owen was taken by surprise, although he really shouldn't have been. T.K. had moved in with Carlos months ago, that was his home now. And Carlos was T.K.'s person, the one he wanted to take care of him.

He looked at Judd, who nodded, silently answering Owen's unspoken request to stay with T.K. while he called Carlos.

"Your dad's calling Carlos now, I'm sure he'll be here soon to get you home. Just hang in there," Judd said, rubbing a hand over T.K.'s back.

As promised, after Owen returned from making the phone call, Carlos arrived within 10 minutes.

"Oh sweetheart," Carlos sighed when he spotted his boyfriend, hunched over a trash can.

Judd quickly stood up, allowing Carlos to take his spot. Carlos wrapped his arms around T.K., gently pulling him from the slumped position to rest against his chest. T.K. went willingly, pressing his face into Carlos's shoulder.

"Thank you for calling me," Carlos said, addressing Owen.

Owen nodded, smiling softly as he watched Carlos take care of his son. He hadn't missed the way that T.K. instantly relaxed a little at Carlos's touch.

"Let's get you home baby," Carlos said quietly. T.K. nodded, letting Carlos help him to his feet with a hand on his elbow and his waist.

"Let me know if you guys need anything," Owen told Carlos.

"Thank you," Carlos nodded, "I've got him, Owen," he added, seeing the worry on the captain's face.

Owen nodded, reaching out to softly clap Carlos on the shoulder, "I know you do." Carlos gave him one last nod, then wrapped an arm around T.K.'s waist and slowly guided him out of the station toward his car.

As much as Owen worried about T.K., he was realizing that maybe he didn't need to as much anymore. Because while most of T.K.'s previous boyfriends hadn't treated him very well, he had Carlos now. Carlos, who clearly loved and cared for T.K. so much. Owen was glad they had found each other.

[detective-giggles]

For Better and Definitely for Worse

Ahhhh! My first fic in forever! A double fill for @badthingshappenbingo “vomiting” square and for @tarlosmonthlyprompts custom bingo “Grand Designs and Cuddles”. @noxsoulmate thank you for the beta and the title. 😘 thank you for reading!

🤢🤢🤢🤢

Carlos parks the Camaro as close to the bay doors as he can without actually being in the way, should an actual emergency occur while he’s inside.

He slips inside unnoticed and hurries up the stairs, running into Owen on the landing.

“Hey, how is he?” Carlos asks.

Owen shrugs and pats him on the shouler. “Good luck,” is his response. “But let me know if you need anything. I have a killer recipe for-”

“We will let you know, thank you,” Carlos says, ducking into the bunkroom.

Nancy and TK are both curled up on individual bunks with their backs to each other. Tommy is sitting at the edge of Nancy’s bunk, trying to get her to drink some water.

“Hey, guys,” Carlos says softly.

“Hi babe,” TK whispers. “We’re dying.”

Tommy rolls her eyes. “You’re not dying.”

“We’re dying,” Nancy agrees.

Carlos steps up to the bunk and runs a hand through TK’s hair. It’s sweaty and matted to his face but Carlos still presses a soft kiss to the top of his head. “So, what force of nature was strong enough to take down the most bad-ass paramedics I know?”

“The new deli on Columbus,” Tommy says, then adds, “Food poisoning.”

“Oh, shit,” Carlos murmurs. “How long does that take to clear up?”

“Twenty-four to forty-eight hours and he should start feeling like himself again. Bedrest should be fine, and you can give him some over the counter meds but keep him hydrated.”

Carlos nods solemnly. “Nance, do you need a ride home too?”

“I’m taking her home with me tonight,” Tommy says. “I just wanted to make sure you got TK picked up okay.”

“I’ve got him,” Carlos promises.

TK sits up too fast and groans pitifully; he braces his elbows on his knees and sucks in a couple deep breaths. He reaches out a hand and feels around blindly; Carlos grabs the emesis bag and shoves it under TK’s face and holds it for him while he vomits.

“Sorry,” TK murmurs. Carlos rubs his back, gently, and TK leans heavily against him.

Carlos winces as behind them, Nancy is also puking her guts out.

“Come on,” Carlos says, “let’s get you home.”

Tommy promises to clean up the bunk room, leaving TK to apologize pitifully again. Carlos grabs TK’s duffel and slings it over his shoulder, while steadying TK with his other hand. Tommy hands him another emesis bag for the road.

“Better take two, actually,” TK mutters. Carlos agrees and grabs a second bag, stuffing them both in his pocket.

Together, they make it out of the bunk room. TK climbs down the stairs slowly, with Carlos’ hand on the small of his back. He slides into the Camaro while Carlos tosses his bag in the back andby the time Carlos joins him, TK’s sitting stiffly in the seat, eyes closed and groaning softly.

“Hand me your seatbelt,” Carlos prompts.

TK takes a second but waves him off. “I’ve got it,” he mumbles. Carlos watches as he secures his seatbelt and then he does the same before pulling out on the road.

They have to pull over twice so TK can puke and Carlos isn’t quite sure how he can have anything left to get rid of; but maybe he doesn’t since the second time they stop, TK just dry heaves into the bag until Carlos coaxes him back into the car so they can finish their drive home.

Finally, they make it back to the loft, and TK slowly makes his way into the building and into the elevator, with Carlos close behind. They have the elevator to themselves and mercifully, the movement doesn’t make TK sick again.

As soon as Carlos unlocks the door, TK hurries inside and makes a beeline for the bathroom, stepping out of his shoes and dropping his hoodie on the floor along the way.

Carlos grabs his phone and finds his grocery delivery app. He knows his husband’s favorite flavor of Gatorade and orders half a dozen, some Pepto, saltines, and a case of water, leaving a hefty tip with the promise of more if they can deliver in less than an hour. Although the store’s not far, he’ll pay a little extra if it means not leaving TK home alone.

He puts TK’s shoes in the closet and cleans out his duffel bag, stashing it away until the next shift TK’s well enough to attend, although he knows it’ll be a few days.

Carlos grabs a bottle of water and TK’s pajamas, and then knocks on the door.

“Please don’t come in,” TK begs.

“I have water for you,” Carlos says.

The door opens a crack, just enough for TK to stick his hand through. Carlos hands him the items and TK murmurs a thank you before slamming the door shut again.

Carlos isn’t really sure what to do, other than stay close in case TK needs him, and he sits down on the sofa to wait. The groceries arrive in less than 45 minutes and Carlos shoves the Gatorade and some water in the fridge, glad to have something to do.

He decides to make himself some toast while he’s in the kitchen, so TK doesn’t have to watch him eat later and he also texts to check up on Nancy, knowing TK will want to know how she’s holding up.

Owen calls twice to check up on TK and honestly, Carlos is a little surprised he doesn’t just stop by the loft. Carlos assures him TK is fine and he seems to accept that answer, but tells Carlos to call him if they need anything.

Carlos finally relaxes when he hears the shower start and it isn’t long until TK emerges from the bathroom after that. He’s in the pajamas Carlos had given him, his hair is damp, and he still looks miserable.

“Hey, baby,” Carlos says.

TK whines and shuffles towards the couch. He curls up on his side, resting his head on Carlos’ lap. Carlos pulls the throw blanket off the back of the couch and covers his husband with it.

“Want to watch some TV?” Carlos asks, hoping to distract him long enough that maybe he can fall asleep.

TK nods and Carlos grabs the remote, turning the television onto reruns of their favorite show.

“Hey, let me get up and I’ll grab you some water or something,” Carlos offers.

TK shakes his head and snuggles impossibly closer to Carlos. “I’m okay,” he says. “I think. Have you heard from Nancy?”

“She’s doing okay too,” Carlos tells him, while running his fingers through TK’s hair. “Tommy says she hopes you feel better soon and your next two shifts are covered. And I’ve called in too.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” TK whispers. “But I’m glad you did.”

Carlos chuckles and slips his hand under the blanket, rubbing TK’s side.

While TK watches the TV, Carlos watches TK. He makes it just past the second commercial break before his eyes slip closed. Carlos relaxes just a little bit more and settles in. He’s a little too old to sleep on the couch - they both are - and he knows his back will scream at him tomorrow. But for now, he closes his eyes and hopes TK sleeps through the night.

[nisbanisba]

I hope you like sicky Carlos!! I’ve undertaken a personal mission to beef up the “Sick Carlos Reyes” tag on AO3 🫡

My fics:

I can't tell one from another (did I find you or you find me), Rated T, 7.8k words.

Carlos doesn't usually get sick, but it's been a tough year. The flu knocks him down hard the first winter of their marriage. TK helps (with an assist from Tommy & Nancy because TNT are the best paramedic trio in the land).

Make Us Be Brave, Rated M, 8.2k words.

TK thinks Carlos is too sick to be working. Grace thinks so too, but she'll help him solve a murder anyway. Judd is there to keep TK's head from exploding. Andrea & Charlie Ryder appear too, for hugs.

Smooshy Boys Club, Rated M, 3.5k words. The fluffiest fluff. In which Buttercup takes care of Carlos, even before Carlos knows he needs taking care of. He lets TK help.

Stone Cold, Will You Miss Me, Rated T, 9k words. Teenage boyfriends TK and Carlos have a fight when Carlos isn't ready to go to the dance together. Also, neither of them feel very well. Sort of a teen AU for 2x04, very much a self-indulgent sickfic featuring teen angst and Gabriel doing his best.

[deluxewhump]

Fishhook

Adjacent to this piece

CW: accidental hand injury, nausea and dizziness response (vasovagal syncope I suppose), wound tending, max + lo talk about pet whump universe and their relationship to each other in it

@distinctlywhumpthing -you requested some lines on this :))

The fishhook caught Carlo’s hand like a surgical tool and buried itself to its glinting base in no more than a second.

Adrenaline almost made him try to pull it out, but he hesitated. Instinct told him it was in too deep, the hook too curved. It took a moment of staring down at it to even believe what he’d just done. How had he allowed such a careless thing to happen? He wished to return to the previous minute and pay attention. That was Max’s oft repeated advice when they were out traipsing the woods: just pay attention. He glanced at his new keeper, fishing in the sunshine twenty yards away and oblivious to Carlo’s mistake.

It was the same hand he’d broken his finger on. It seemed like another lifetime he’d gone onto his master’s back porch cradling it, unsure what to do. Erik had helped him, hadn’t even faulted him for provoking Keith. He remembered sleeping for a long time in a pleasant medicated daze, his finger in a splint and throbbing mildly. Being unable to bring this new mistake to Erik for help wrung him breathless with homesickness. The adrenaline flagged from the first time since he’d realized what he’d done, and in its absence he finally felt the pain.

“Max?” he croaked, and coughed to clear his throat. He wished again he could just pull it out himself, but didn’t dare.

“Max!” he called, louder this time. Starlings sang in the autumn trees above their heads, and where their branches broke was a strip of blue sky like a mirror of the river. Upstream, Max turned to him.

“I…” it was too stupid to say out loud. His voice shook. After he trailed off, Max put it together by the way he was holding his injured hand, or the thin line of blood making its way slowly to his wrist. Either way, he set down his fishing rod. Even with his eyes dropped back to his hand, Carlo heard the urgency in Max’s approach from his boots on the rocky riverbed.

“It’s okay,” were the first words out of his mouth— spoken so surely, like a man who had seen a dozen fish hooks in hands just this week. He touched the sides of Carlo’s arms. “It’s okay. Can I see?”

He lifted his hand between them. Max hissed in sympathy. “Really got that in there, huh?”

As he took hold of his wrist to better inspect the accident, Carlo became aware of a rising dizziness that had gripped him some moments ago, only now becoming severe enough to warrant his attention. He took a deep inhale through his nose to try to gain control of it. His face felt impossibly hot. Max’s eyes lifted from his hand to meet his.

“Sit down.” He guided down him to the rocks. “Don’t look at it. Look at the opposite shore over there. Take another deep breath. You’re gonna be fine. How’s the pain?”

“Not bad. It’s just really… weird that there’s a hook in my hand.”

Max knelt down to his level and took his hand again to inspect. “I know. It’s enough to make anyone a little squeamish. Don’t look— that’ll make it worse. Keep looking over at the other side of the river. I’ve got you.”

“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying enough attention. It’s so stupid. I didn’t—”

“Shh,” Max hushed, busy cutting the still-attached fishing line with his knife without tugging on the hook. If he hadn’t already been lightheaded, Carlo thought the gentle shushing he’d just been given would’ve done it alone.

He was more than happy to keep quiet. Opening his mouth made him nauseated, if his new keeper wasn’t the type to ask how he could be so fucking stupid, he wasn’t going to address it either.

“It might be in the meat of your thumb here,” Max said. “That’s just the hook doing its job, unfortunately. Hey, don’t look at it. Look at me. You’re gonna be good, we just need to get this removed safely. Maybe take you to a doctor.”

Carlo recalled the opening lines of a poem from some dusty anthology in his old home with perfect clarity, clearer than the red trees or blue sky. What a thrill— My thumb instead of an onion. The top quite gone.

“Can you just do it? With your knife?”

Max blinked at him. The river was on their left, and for a moment Carlo thought maybe he hadn’t heard him over the sound of the water running over the rocks in the shallows.

“No,” he said after a strange beat of silence, looking back down at his task. He’d heard perfectly fine. “Hands are delicate, I don’t need to be digging around near tendons. You want to be able to use it after, right?”

That last was meant to be lighthearted, but Carlo caught the moment of disbelief on Max’s face when he’d asked him to do it himself. The request translated to an unmistakable display of trust.

Now that he knew Max had heard his plea for what it was, he was embarrassed for showing his cards like that. Like an animal bearing its neck.

“I don’t want to go to an emergency room,” he said quietly. A fact, not a request. He had plenty of practice in quietly exerting his own wishes without sounding demanding, spoiled, or insolent. Keith picked up on any of those attitudes immediately, and he always paid for it. Erik had more patience for it, on account of the affection he had for him. He might be annoyed by perceived insolence one day and mildly amused by it the next. Of course, Keith would’ve punished him for this kind of mistake by squeezing his hand with the hook in it, or letting the men yank him around with a line attached to it as a joke on their break.

“Mr Holstrom always had a doctor visit me at the house.”

Max was still studying the angle of the hook. He made as if to touch a part of it and hesitated. “Shit,” he muttered. “I have bait and god-knows-what all over my hands.”

“He always called a doctor to the house…” he continued, concerned that Max didn’t know about the lax protocols of pet treatment in US hospitals. “I can’t go to the regular ER.”

“Anyone can go to the ER,” Max replied, distracted. “I don’t have pet insurance, but they’ll just bill me.”

“No, it’s…” he felt tears of frustration prick the backs of his eyes.

Max lifted his head. “It’s what?” he asked, attentive now.

“It’s not a good place for me.”

He could tell Max was skeptical. Did he really not know the way of the world? Erik said most people don’t realize, or don’t want to. Many of us don’t like to dwell on problems we can’t fix in an hour, he said. It’s not our nature.

“Well, I think I can get this out for you anyway. But it has to stay clean. Don’t touch it. First aid kit is in the truck. Can you walk with me, or do you want me to go get it?”

He insisted he could walk. When they finally got back to the truck, Max insisted on lifting him up to the open tailgate and set his first aid kit beside him. On the side of the dirt access road, he put on a pair of latex gloves before gently probing the eye of the hook. Carlo winced and looked over his left shoulder at the line of birch and pine trees. Visualizing the hook moving under his skin made him feel lightheaded all over again.

“I know it’s going to hurt regardless, but tell me if it’s too much.”

“Okay,” he breathed, and took a deep breath through his nose to keep the dizziness at bay.

“It’s not as deep as I initially thought, it’s just a weird angle.”

He whimpered as Max slowly dragged the straight end of the metal out, along his skin, until the hooked part caught and Carlo flinched.

“I know, I’m sorry,” he said in that hushing tone Carlo was beginning to listen for like a key in the door.

One gloved finger held the base of the hook in place as he searched something on his cellphone with the other hand.

“Hang tight. There’s a trick for this, I just can’t remember exactly how it goes.”

Soon he was looping a piece of fishing line around the curve of the hook, right where it went into his skin, like threading a needle.

“I’m going to coax it out at an angle so I don’t cause any more damage. I’ll push on this side and pull the line at the same time, and it will come out the same angle it went in.”

The pain doubled when Max pulled the fishing line, and he could feel a warm trickle of blood oozing from the site. He bit the inside of his cheek, and in a moment felt the sudden, blissful absence of the hook.

Max applied pressure to the bleeding. “Move your thumb for me? Good. Just checking.”

Whatever he put on the wound when he lifted the gauze stung fiercely, but that sort of pain was far preferable to the nauseating feeling of metal moving under his skin.

“Need to keep a close eye on it for infection.”

Carlo watched him place a bandage and tape it down. He liked the sound of Max’s voice, and watching his hands as he worked. Usually this was on something other than him, and Max had rarely stood so close to him for any reason.

“I’m sorry,” Carlo said, just to cover his bases.

“Don’t be. It happens.”

“Thank you. For taking it out.”

Max began packing up the first aid box. “‘Course.”

“We can go back out now…” he offered, still cringing at the thought of derailing the weekend activities.

Max smiled knowingly as he latched the kit shut. “We can also go home.” He took his time choosing his next words, and Carlo’s anxiety doubled with every second that passed in silence. He deserved a reprimand, but it would still sting from someone he’d been trying so hard to please these last few weeks.

“You’re a little too good at being a pet, you know that? You’ve got experience at this. I don’t. You should take advantage of that. I’m like the substitute teacher you can convince there wasn’t any homework.”

Carlo looked away, down at the offending fish hook on the tailgate of the truck. It was wet with his blood.

“I’m teasing, Carlo. I’m sorry. I just mean… you don’t have to try so hard. I know this is all really strange for you, probably even more than it is for me, but you’re doing fine. I’m not gonna make you go sit by the river all day with a hurt hand when home is a half hour away. That’s not.. normal. I know it’s hard, but just… just roll with it, okay? I’ll never try to test you, or trick you. I mean what I say. If I need you to do something or behave a certain way… I’ll just tell you.”

He nodded, both chastised and relieved. “I’m trying,” he said, hoping it sounded more like willingness to collaborate than defensiveness.

“I know.” Max put a brief hand on his knee and Carlo resisted the urge to lean forward and put his forehead on his chest. “I’m just going for clarity between you and me. That’s all. Come on. Careful.” He offered his arm to help him jump down from the tailgate. “Let’s go home.”

[lonestardust]

thinking of their arc now and what if TK sat with him like 4x16 and told him that i don't expect you to go through with the adoption process and carlos can't actually do it this time and tells him he needs a break and TK is just. utterly defeated and unintentionally starts asking all the whens and wheres 'for for how long- do you need a month or a year or-' but he holds himself back immediately bc he doesn't want to emotionally tax carlos with guilt like he wants to support him in this and his suspended grief journey and carlos can't look him in the eyes without breaking down and IT SUCKS bc they both need each other and they both feel like abandoning each other but also understand the compelling responsibility of taking this kid in and TK doesn't want to feel like carlos is doing him a favor by staying. anyway they separate for like a month exactly (unrealistically the adoption process is nothing complicated. there is an extra room in the loft and jonah is now living with TK). carlos is staying with andrea. he goes to therapy. spends time at the ranch. TK is managing. left his job. settling jonah in. him and carlos check on each other every now and then. they both pretend they're ok. and of course they bump into each other at the firehouse for when they both stop for lunch one day.. another day, carlos shows up at the loft with take out and a toy. just checking on TK and wanting to say hi to Jonah. and TK feels like he's being caught off guard. He's in the middle of their night routine. putting jonah to bed. loading the dishwasher. cleaning. And carlos being here is sort of disorientating him and he doesn't know what to do or what to say but the carlos of it all reassures him and tk just lets all of his pent up stress come out in tears and he doesn't want carlos to hold him saying he still needs to shower but carlos doesn’t care and pulls him into his arms and they talk and talk about how they're (not really) managing without each other and carlos tells him it feels wrong to drag this break any day longer... i just can't stop thinking of how these things realistically break up marriages and causes real fractures and i like to think that this would happen with carlos and TK as well but It'd be something like that. a rift that heals, a bump in their road that they both would eventually overcome.

the slowed reverb version of transatlanticism is giving me major tarlos angst vibes and i can't do this *been listening to it for weeks and indulging in more break up/angst thoughts :):)*

[beckyninja]

Accused

Pairing: Demetrian Titus x FemReader (sort of)

Warnings: mob violence

Description: While serving in the DeathWatch, Titus meets the woman who will come to mean more to him than he ever thought.

Another long prequel for you guys! This one takes place some time before the events of Revelation.

You ran.

Gravel crunched beneath your boots as you fled down the dry stream bed. High ravine walls on either side blocked the moonlight. You fled blind, guided only by memory. It wasn’t enough.

You slammed into an unseen boulder. Momentum hurled you forward onto the ground, skin scraping from your hands and knees. You let out a short cry, then froze.

Did they hear?

You strained your ears and heard nothing. But that did not comfort you. Your pursuers had spent lifetimes hunting wary prey in these mountains. Still, after a few minutes of stillness, you began to hope.

 Perhaps they’ve given up.

From your prone position, you fought to see through the darkness ahead. The Angels’ ship. Your only chance of salvation. It had to be there!

You opened your mouth to scream. “Help m-”

Hands clamped onto your face and shoulders. You bit and struggled as they lifted you off the ground, dragging you backwards.

A high, mad laugh chilled your blood.

“You will burn, Heretic! Burn!”

***

The Day Before

“Father Cortez, this insanity must end!”

You stood outside the village’s little church, shawl pulled tight against your shoulders, and glared at the priest. He glared back. His red-rimmed eyes seemed to burn within their sockets. Blood stained his robes.

He’s been flogging himself again.

Your lips twisted. “How many more must die before you admit the uselessness of-”

“Silence!” Spittle sprayed from the priest’s mouth. “How dare you challenge me, girl!”

You sighed. Only a few years older than you, and yet he called you “girl.” You looked around at the crowd of villagers milling uneasily. Men, women, and children worn ragged by the terror of the past few months. Their eyes flickered between you and the priest.

“Friends,” you smiled, “for four generations the women of my family have tended your hurts, healed your sick, and delivered your children. I may be young. But I studied at the feet of my mother and grandmother before me. You trusted them.” 

“Will you not trust me?”

Marta, the elderly church caretaker, finally spoke. “What would you have us do, Healer?”

You nodded to her. “We must send someone down-mountain, into the city. We must call for aid-”

“No!” The Priest shrieked. “These attacks are a test sent from the God-Emperor Himself! To purify and strengthen our faith!”

Your temper frayed. “And does the Emperor use xenos monsters as his instruments now, Father? Does He demand we sacrifice humans to them? Innocents?”

“Heretics!”

“Was little Carlos a heretic, Cortez? At seven years old?” You pushed through the crowd to point a finger directly in his face. “Was Old Inez, who never went a day without praying in this very church?” 

You straightened your spine and loomed over the little man. “With each villager bound and left for these beasts, you promised they would leave. Have they? No!” You spun back to face the crowd. “Because they are no punishment! They are-”

A metallic roar cut off your words. From over the peaks surrounding the village, came a ship the likes of which you had never seen. The crowd shrieked and scattered as it hovered directly over their heads. For a minute it lingered there, sending dust-filled wind whipping through the square. Then, it rose once again and veered toward the south, beyond the ravine.

You stood amidst chaos. In front of you, families dove into their homes and slammed the doors behind them. Behind you, Father Cortez ranted and raved.

Upon the side of the ship a symbol had been carved: A skull and crossbones over an elaborate “I”. 

Hope flickered in your heart.

***

“What are they?” Marta whimpered from her place next to you.

You peered through the church’s dirty window. An hour or so after the ship flew over the village, a few hunters had heard heavy footfalls coming up the ravine. For the second time that day people locked themselves within their huts and prayed to the Emperor.

It seemed He had finally heard them.

“The Emperor’s Angels.” You breathed.

“You’re sure?”

You nodded. “My great-grandmother saw one once, my grandmother told me.”

Giants in armor who brought salvation to the faithful and destruction to the enemy.

They were certainly giant. But the Angel in your grandmother’s story had worn brightly colored armor, whereas these wore black. You squinted through the grime and could just make out a couple of insignias painted on the massive shoulders: some sort of canine head and a stylized cross.

One bore no insignia at all. A red hood covered his helmet. You watched him gesture to the others. 

“What are they doing here?” Marta’s voice shook.

“I think… I hope they might be-”

“It is none of our concern!”

Father Cortez’s bony hands gripped your and Marta’s shoulders. He dragged you backwards with surprising strength. The older woman tumbled to the floor with a pained cry. You knelt to help her, shooting the priest a look of disgust.

He ignored you. “Whatever they are here for, we should leave them to it.”

“And what if they’re here to help us?”

“We need no such help! The Emperor provides!”

“By the Throne,” you pressed your hands to your eyes, “yes. You’re right, Father. And He has provided.”

You pointed out the window. “There is His provision! Walking down our main street!”

“What… what are you going to do?” Marta whispered.

“If they are here to stop the xenos,” you muttered, half to yourself, “then they need to know about the earthquake, and the cave up on Black Peak.”

The priest cackled. “And what makes you so sure they don’t already know, girl?”

“Cortez!” You whirled on him. “Enough with the ‘girl’! I remember when you were a pimple-faced brat who delighted in pulling the legs off insects.”

If anything, you’ve only gotten worse since your ordination.

The priest drew back into the corner of the smoky church.

“Yes, go sulk and leave me be.” You took a deep breath and made for the door.

Marta shrilled your name. You waved the old woman’s concerns away, clinging to what little courage you’d managed to gather.

“I’m going to help, if I can.”

***

Idiot. Idiot! Throne damned, idiot! 

Five helmeted heads had turned your way when you pushed open the church’s door and stepped into the square. A wave of dread washed over you, every primal instinct you possessed screaming at you to run.

Oh Throne, they’re so… big!

You knew large animals. Before the attacks began, the village had made its living hunting the lumbering beasts that lived among the peaks and ravines. Once you’d even seen one of the great predatory felines.

This moment reminded you of that encounter. But, instead of dashing back to safety, you continued toward the predators. You kept your hands held out in front of you.

I’m no threat. A hysterical laugh threatened to burst from your lips. As if these behemoths would ever consider me one!

When you’d gotten within twenty feet, the Angel in the red hood raised a hand, palm facing you. He didn’t speak, but you felt the command as if he’d shouted. You halted, dropping to your knees and bowing your head.

You doubted your trembling legs would have carried you much farther, anyway.

An odd hissing, crackling noise seemed to come from the Angels’ direction. You didn’t dare look up as footsteps approached.

“Rise.”

The deep voice shook you from the inside out. You gasped and tried to comply, only for your legs to give out. A great, armored gauntlet grasped your upper arm, steadying you. You looked up into the lenses of the hooded Angel’s helmet.

For an instant, you swore you met his eyes. Your heart skipped a beat, then, against all reason, calmed.

He won’t hurt me.

You didn’t know where the conviction came from. You just knew it to be true.

“Who are you?”

You told him your name. “I…I am the Healer of this village.” You remembered your grandmother’s story and hastily added, “M-my Lord.”

“Are you alone here?”

“N-no, my Lord. The others are afraid.”

A laugh, almost a bark, came from one of the other Angels. “And ye are not? Plucky little lass.”

Another gave a growl. “Commander, we should not linger.”

The Commander never looked away from you. “Do you know why we are here?”

“I…,” you took a deep breath and tried to steady yourself, “I hope you are here to help us, my Lord. Against the xenos.”

A soft intake of breath, as if in surprise. “What do you know of xenos?”

“My great-grandmother came to this world on a refugee ship, my Lord. She told my grandmother of the Enemies of Mankind and their horrors.” 

Silence, except for that hissing, crackling noise again.

You swallowed, desperation making you bold. “Please, my Lord, I think I can help.”

***

“... after the earthquake, some of our hunters reported a new cave opening up on Black Peak. A few boys decided to explore it. They never returned.” 

You scampered over another boulder on the trail. You’d climbed this path dozens of times in your life, but it had become more difficult since the quake. Your foot slipped on a patch of loose shale.

Once again, an armored hand reached out to steady you. You smiled up at the Commander. Strange, the others still unnerved you, but not him. 

“Thank you, my Lord.”

He gave the barest nod. “Continue.”

“Well, that night the attacks began. They only ever come after dark, and they only ever take one person. Oh.”

Just ahead, an entire rock formation had collapsed on the trail. You watched the other Angels step over the rubble with minimal effort, and looked for a way to do the same. Suddenly, you felt hands at your waist.

The Commander lifted you like a child, settling you in the crook of one arm as he jumped the obstacle. One of the other Angels, the one with the canine head on his pauldron, looked back and chuckled.

“Oh! Um, thank you again, my Lord.” 

You waited for him to set you on your feet. He didn’t, continuing up the mountain path.

“It will be faster this way.” 

“I don’t want to be a burden.” You blurted.

“You are not. Continue.”

“R-right. Um, yes. The survivors say the creatures are like great insects, but made of metal.”

“Mmm.”

You wracked your memory for anything else. “Their eyes… they glowed green.” 

The giant carrying you stiffened. You had no time to wonder about it before you spotted a great black opening in the mountainside far above you.

“There it is!”

The hissing, crackling noise again. All five Angels came to a halt, peering up at the cavern. The Commander placed you on the ground.

“Go back.”

You nodded. On the one hand, you were glad to be away. On the other…

“Will you be alright?”

You regretted the words as soon as they left your mouth. One of the Angels guffawed, the sound starting a few small rock slides in the distance. You felt another’s glare like a brand on your skin.

“Of all the insolent-”

The Commander held up a hand, silencing him. “We will be fine. Go.”

You turned, shame heating your face, when he spoke again, softer than before. “My thanks.”

***

Halfway down the trail, you heard explosions, followed by rumbling chatter you assumed came from the Angels weapons. Plumes of smoke rose from the Peak.

God-Emperor, protect your Angels as they do battle in Your name.

Especially the kind one. 

Your cheeks heated again and you scrambled back down the path. Would he remember you? You doubted it. Just an insignificant girl from an insignificant village on an insignificant world. You, however, would remember him for the rest of your life.

Another story to tell your own children, one day.

Without the Commander to carry you over the taller obstacles, it took the rest of the day to return to the village. The sun had begun to set. You smiled. Only yesterday the thought of being out after dark would have sent you sprinting in terror. But now…

You nearly skipped down the last stretch of path. You were hungry, thirsty, and tired. But you could not wait to tell your friends the news. They no longer needed to be afraid. No more need be sacrificed to the monsters in the dark.

Your mood soured at that thought. 

None needed to be sacrificed in the first place.

Hopefully, now that the danger was past, the villagers would see how twisted Father Cortez had become. Perhaps you could rally them, convince them to send him back to the city. The village could request a new spiritual leader.

The streets were deserted. You heard voices in the direction of the church. A strange red glow seemed to emanate from that direction as well. A celebration? You smiled and broke into a run. You had much to celebrate.

A bonfire blazed in the center of the square. Father Cortez stood before it, gesticulating wildly. Before him every villager in the settlement watched with rapt attention. 

As you neared, you began to make out his words.

“...Emperor, in His mercy, sent His angels to relieve our suffering!”

Finally, something you and I agree on, Cortez.

“But the stain of heresy still remains!”

You jerked to a halt at the rear of the crowd. 

What?!

“We must find the true cause of our afflictions and cleanse it through flame! Lest the monsters return to ravage us once more!”

To your horror, the crowd murmured in assent. You noticed their postures, the looks in their eyes, and wondered what lies Cortez had been pouring in their ears during your absence. They reminded you of nothing so much as a herd of panicked prey animals.

But you’d calmed them before.

You began to move through the crowd. You smiled at the people you knew as friends, people your family had done nothing but help for four generations. Most refused to meet your gaze. Some glared, firelight dancing in their eyes.

Cortez saw you.

“There!” He shrieked. “The one who denied the Emperor’s justice! The dissenter! The trouble-maker! The outsider!” His lips curled back into a feral snarl. “The Heretic!”

You looked once more into the faces of the villagers around you. What you saw there chilled your blood.

You ran.

***

Present

“No!” You struggled in the grasp of the mob, searching desperately for a friendly face. “Lonzo, Maria, Berto! You know me! Help me!”

“Heretic! Heretic! Heretic!”

The damning chant pounded in your skull. Hands clawed at you, raking your skin and tearing at your clothes. You felt a hunk of your hair yanked out. A fist struck you in the face, followed by blows to the ribs and stomach. You heaved, tasting blood.

“Bring her here!” Cortez’s voice screamed out above the noise.

The mob threw you onto the ground before the bonfire. Its heat scorched your bloodied skin. One eye swelled closed, but you could still see Cortez standing above you. The firelight made him look like a daemon out of his own sermons.

You gritted your teeth and rocked up onto your knees. “Bastard! If there is someone to be blamed for all our misery, it’s you!”

His boot met the side of your head. You collapsed back into the dirt, ears ringing.

All around you, faces you recognized. Maria, whose twins you’d helped your mother deliver. Berto, who you’d spent weeks nursing through a fever. Lonzo, who had danced with you at the last midwinter festival. 

You saw Marta and reached out a hand. She spit on it.

“Why?” You whispered through split lips.

If you’d made it to the Angels’ ship, if they’d told everyone how you helped, would it have even made a difference? Or would Cortez have simply waited for them to leave before he accused you?

Accused. 

The priest pointed down at you.

Accused.

The crowd roared for blood.

Accused.

You felt yourself dragged upright and shoved toward the bonfire. You didn’t fight. You had no fight left. 

“Burn her! Burn her! Burn her!”

You closed your eyes.

“Enough!”

Everything went silent save for the crackle of the flames. The hands released you, and you crumpled to the ground once again. You heard the familiar tread of armored feet. Then gauntleted hands lifted you gently, so very gently, and you looked into a hooded, helmeted face.

I’m safe.

The Commander towered above the cowering mob. Dimly, you heard Cortez babbling something, sounding as if he’d gone truly insane. The Commander shifted you to one arm.

You watched him reach down and lift the gibbering priest by his collar. 

“Fool.”

With an almost casual flick of his arm, the Angel tossed the priest on his own bonfire.

***

You awoke to the light of dawn. You lay on a hard, metallic surface, some kind of cloth draped over your body. Confusion clouded your thoughts, and you tried to sit up.

Pain shot through every limb.

“Easy, easy now.” A voice soothed. “Here, drink this.”

Some kind of cup was brought to your lips and you drank, coughing at the acrid taste. The pain began to fade. You blinked and looked around.

An older woman knelt at your side. She was clothed in a black robe with the symbol of a canine head stitched on its shoulder. Three scars, like the mark of a claw, ridged her cheek and gave her a fearsome look.

But her eyes were kind when she smiled.

“Better?”

“Y-yes.”

“Good.” The woman patted your shoulder with a broad, rough hand. “I’m no apothecary, but I do know how to mix the odd painkiller in a pinch. Can ye stand?”

She helped you to your feet. You looked around, realizing you stood in the belly of the ship you’d seen fly over yesterday. The Angel’s ship.

Throne, was it only yesterday?

A ramp lay open to the ground outside. Through the dawn glare, you recognized the rocky ravine. A shudder ran through you.

The woman noticed. “Aye. We’re still on your rock of a homeworld.” She spat. “Allfather curse it!”

Your head spun. “How? Why?”

She patted your shoulder. “I’m sure the Commander will explain. He’s a decent sort, for a Black Shield.” She gave you an odd, knowing smile. “I think you’ll find yer a lucky one after all.”

“I don’t-”

“Frigg!” A familiar voice bellowed. “Curse it, woman! Is the lass awake yet?”

The woman snorted and stood. “Aye, she is, m’lord!” She rolled her eyes. “Oh, aye, yer lucky. Lucky the Commander picked ye instead of him.”

“Bring her out, then!”

The woman, Frigg, fussed over you. “Now, ye be a good lass and do as yer told and ye’ll be fine. Go on with ye.”

Head spinning, you staggered down the ramp. Four of the Angels stood clustered off to one side, surrounding a crate of some sort. They all looked much the same as you had seen them before. Perhaps a few more dents in their armor.

The one with the canine insignia barked a laugh as you appeared. He elbowed the one with the cross insignia, who growled under his breath.

“Waste of time.”

“Hah! Simmer down, Templar. The Commander led us to a good fight. If he wants a new little serf girl out of it, what is the harm, eh?”

Serf?

“Brother Ulfar, Brother Beren. Load the artifact onto the Thunder Hawk.”

The Commander appeared from the other side of the ship. He didn’t have his hooded cloak. With a start, you realized it was draped over your shoulders. Your face burned and you hurried down the ramp as quickly as you could, holding it out toward him.

You tripped. Yet again, he steadied you.

“Clumsy.” The word held no anger.

“I’m so sorry, my Lord. I just…I just wanted to…” you sighed, giving up. “Thank you.”

He was silent for a long moment. Then he reached up and removed his helmet. 

You almost stopped breathing. His face was a mass of scars. Metal studs of some kind dotted one side of his forehead. His lips curved in a stoic frown. You felt you should be frightened.

But his eyes…

Warm and weary and sad. They looked down into yours.

“You cannot return to your home.”

All of a sudden, everything threatened to overwhelm you. You covered your face with your hands. Tears spilled down your cheeks.

“F-forgive me, m-my Lord. I-”

“You have shown courage.”

You did not feel especially courageous in the moment. He continued.

“I would have you come with me.”

You gasped and stared up at him through the blur of tears. Brother Ulfar’s words came back to you.

“As a… a serf?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know what that means, my Lord.”

He explained. You would tend to his quarters and armor, cleaning, mending, and performing whatever menial work was required. 

“In return, you will be fed, clothed, and educated.” He hesitated, then to your astonishment, sank to one knee. “And I swear by my oath as an Ultra- as an Astartes, I will never let you come to harm again.”

You shook your head. “Why?”

He didn’t seem to mind that you’d forgotten to add “my Lord”. “I know the pain of a false accusation. I know how deep betrayal can cut. I,” he looked almost bashful, “would spare you some of that pain, if I can.”

By the Throne, you saw empathy in those eyes. Frigg had been right. He was a decent man.

You wiped the tears from your cheeks and took a deep breath. “Then I will try and serve you as best as I am able, my Lord.”  

One of the corners of his mouth ticked upward. He nodded and stood, replacing his helmet.

“Follow.”

“My Lord? One more question, if I may?”

He turned back toward you.

“May I know your name?”

Another long pause. He nodded toward the other Angels.

“They know me as ‘Nullus’. In the hearing of others, you will address me as such.” You heard a long breath. “In private, you may call me Titus.”

You didn’t know what this new life would hold, and you doubted it would be easy. But one thing you were certain of.

You would follow Titus anywhere.

@remembrancer-of-heresy @solspina @sleepyfan-blog @moodymisty @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@bispecsual @kit-williams @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond @adhd-fandom-hyperfocus @lemon-russ

@justeverythingnothingelse @scriberye @bleedingichorhearts @c-u-c-koo-4-40k @mooniequeen

@passionofthesith

Once again, please comment if you'd like to be tagged in any further work.

[cull3nblaze]

Endless list of favourite characters

I have lived my life in, in so much fear. Closed off. Shut down in ways I didn't realize. You are the key that unlocked me. The fact that I'm standing here with you today, before God, my family, everyone is nothing short of a miracle. You're a miracle, TK Strand. My miracle. And the greatest adventure of my life. And no matter where the journey takes us, I vow to be by your side. I vow to be the caretaker of your wild heart.

Carlos Reyes (9-1-1 Lone Star)

[herefortarlos]

There are sadly only three episodes left of 9-1-1: Lone Star, which returns on Monday, January 20, 2025 (the finale is set for February 3).

And sure, there’s a massive emergency—an asteroid heading for Austin—but there’s also quite a bit left to wrap up about the characters as well. In addition to whether or not Owen (Rob Lowe) might take that job offer and what’s next for Judd (Jim Parrack) with his drinking, there’s the matter of T.K. (Ronen Rubinstein) and Carlos (Rafael Silva) adopting T.K.’s half-brother Jonah as well as what’s ahead for the rest of the first responders. TV Insider turned to co-showrunner Rashad Raisani for the scoop.

How much are we going to see T.K. and Carlos trying to balance being parents and balancing work? They have family, but at the same time, they are the primary caretakers now of this kid.

Rashad Raisani: You’re putting your finger right on the end of the series is all I’ll tell you about that. That becomes a major issue, let’s put it that way.

Do they have time for themselves as a couple?

They will, I’ll put it that way, but I won’t tell you how.

As much as I love seeing Nancy (Brianna Baker) as captain and she’s already doing great, will we see Tommy (Gina Torres) back at the 126 before the show ends?

I can’t answer that. It would be too big. I can’t answer it. Let’s just say Gina Torres is a Ferrari. You don’t leave a Ferrari in the garage forever.

But will we see her physically at the 126? She could just be visiting.

[Laughs] If I answered it. I would be spoiling so much.

What else can you tease about the final three episodes for the characters and their relationships?

The thing that I can say is that everyone in the last two episodes gets pushed to their extreme limit—and some past it, to be honest. We have some of our most insane apocalyptic emergencies in 11 and 12. It’s basically a combination of The Last of Us and Chernobyl. It mirrors where all of the characters are, and most of them are in an apocalyptic space for one reason or another.

Mateo [Julian Works] is going to have an existential crisis going back to his status as a DACA, as a dreamer. T.K. and Carlos, they are not done with—yeah, they want to adopt Jonah, but it’s not that easy, and there’s going to be a major fundamental hurdle for them that they’re going to have to make a significant life decision to decide how they want to deal with it. Tommy is at the end of her life. Owen will be at the end of his life. Judd will have a new future that I think will both be very shocking but also feel hopefully very appropriate that will change the game of where he goes. Marjan is going to have a massive episode in Episode 10, which I think people will get a lot of joy from—I know I did, and I think it’s her best episode of the series. I think everybody’s going to have some big game-changing moments in the final three episodes.

What about for Paul (Brian Michael Smith)?

There’s a great—I have to say Brian pitched me an idea. He said there was this moment in the pilot where Owen tells Paul basically, there’s somewhere out there in Austin as a kid like you that doesn’t think they belong. And I want you here for when we run across that kid, you know what I mean? Whether it be non-binary, trans, gay, whatever. And Brian said, we said that in the pilot, but wouldn’t it be great if we did a story that showed that? And I thought, well, that is a great idea. And so the last two episodes we’re going to do that and we’re going to introduce a new major character, I should say, who Paul will be their kind of role model.

Are there any significant steps for any of the relationships in these last episodes beyond the adoption for Tarlos?

There may be new babies. I won’t tell you who. There may be deaths. I won’t tell you who. So there will be, there sure will be.

9-1-1: Lone Star, Returns, Monday, January 20, 2025, 8/7c, Fox

[mudstoneabyss]

please they need to let me interview them please my casual daydream fantasies have shifted to just thinking about if i got that opportunity somehow

I should be allowed to interview brinknor over this one I have to know just what was going through their minds to end up here

[actuallysara]

"Carlos, when I first met you you looked at me as if you knew something about me that I didn't know myself. You saw me for the man I hadn't yet become and you lit the path for me to get there. I've spent so long feeling like I didn't deserve happiness or even a future, like maybe I was too broken. But you changed that. Whenever I see you, whenever I'm with you, I feel whole. And I vow, Carlos Reyes, to take care and norture your heart for the rest of my life as if it was my very own."

"Tyler Kennedy Strand, you were the dream I would not allow myself to have. I've lived my life in so much fear, closed off, shut down in ways I didn't realise. You are the key that unlocked me. The fact that I'm standing here with you today, before God, my family, everyone, is nothing short of a miracle. You're a miracle TK Strand. My miracle. And the greatest adventure of my life. And no matter where the journey takes us, I vow to be by your side. I vow to be the caretaker of your wild heart."

[1heartfanfics]

I'm not going anywhere

Carlos is initially pleasantly surprised when he sees T.K.'s car parked in front of their apartment, excited to see him after a long day. But his excitement quickly turns to worry when he remembers that T.K. should still be on shift for another four hours.

His worry increases when he steps into the apartment, which is quiet and dark except for the light and faint sound from the TV, which is playing an episode of friends, T.K.'s comfort show.

"T.K.?" he asks cautiously, stepping around the side of the couch. Carlos finds T.K. curled up under a blanket, pale and shaking.

"Carlos," T.K. breaths out, one hand emerging from under the blanket to reach for him. Carlos takes T.K.'s hand in one of his, squeezing it gently.

"You sick baby?" he asks, sitting down on the coffee table across from T.K. and reaching out to feel his forehead, surprised to not feel any signs of a fever.

T.K. shakes his head, but his eyes are shiny with tears. Carlos frowns, "What's wrong then? Did something happen?" he asks.

The only answer he gets is a sob. Carlos quickly moves to sit on the couch in front of T.K., gathering him up into his arms. He still has no idea what's going on but he holds T.K. tightly as he cries into Carlos's chest. Carlos can feel him shaking against him.

"Shh shh, I've got you," Carlos whispers, kissing T.K.'s head as he rocks them gently back and forth.

It takes a few minutes, but slowly T.K.'s sobs turn to silent tears, which turn to gasping breaths and sniffles, and eventually he's quiet. Carlos holds him for a moment longer, before pulling back slightly to look at T.K.

"Think you can talk to me? Tell me what happened?" Carlos asks, rubbing his hands up and down T.K.'s arms.

T.K. shakes his head quickly, eyes going wide. He looks so small, so afraid. Something awful must have happened, but he clearly wasn't ready to talk about it.

Carlos sighs, "Baby you're still shaking," he says gently.

"M'cold," T.K. nods.

"How about a nice warm shower?" Carlos suggests. He isn't sure why T.K. would be so cold in their cozy apartment in the absence of a fever, but figures the shower might help nonetheless.

"Okay," T.K. quietly agrees. He lets Carlos help him stand and lead him up the stairs to their bathroom. Carlos notices how stiffly he's moving, the permanent wince on his face.

"Here, sit for a second," Carlos motions for T.K. sit on the closed toilet lid while he turns on the water and adjusts it to be warm enough. Then he comes back over to T.K. to hep him get undressed.

Although Carlos has already started to expect an injury (because what else would get T.K. sent home in the middle of a shift?), he still gasps when he lifts T.K.'s shirt and sees the dark purple bruises littered across his chest and his sides.

"Baby..." Carlos breaths out.

T.K. doesn't say anything, just looks up at Carlos with sad, watery eyes. Carlos wants to ask questions. Wants to press T.K. to find out what happened. But he knows that will only make him shut down more.

So instead he presses a gentle kiss to T.K.'s forehead, then helps him out of his clothes, and into the shower as carefully as he can. T.K. sinks down to sit on the floor of the bathtub, leaning against the side.

Wordlessly, Carlos kneels down next to the tub, reaching over to grab T.K.'s bar of soap. He gently washes T.K.'s body, careful as he goes over the bruises, although T.K. still winces each time. Then he moves on to T.K.'s hair, massaging in some shampoo then rinsing it out, careful not to get water in his eyes. By the time Carlos is finished, T.K.'s eyes are closed, his body more relaxed.

"You feeling warmer?" Carlos asks.

"Hmm," T.K. hums in response. But the stiffness in his body is gone and the shaking has stilled.

"I'm going to go get you some clean clothes and then I'll be right back," Carlos says, running his hands through T.K.'s wet hair one more time before standing.

In their bedroom, he grabs a t-shirt and pair of sweats of his own for T.K. to wear. But before heading back to the bathroom he grabs his phone.

'What the hell happened???' he quickly texts Marjan.

She responds back almost immediately, 'Responded to a rafting accident with several vics. One of them panicked as T.K. was pulling them out and he ended up in the water. Took us a minute to get to him and get him out'

Shit. Carlos closes his eyes, taking a forced deep breath. No wonder T.K. was so cold. And no wonder he's not talking. He already had somewhat of a phobia around bodies of water after going in the ice rescuing that kid last year.

Carlos sets his phone down and quickly returns to the bathroom. He helps T.K. out of the shower and gets him all dried off and dressed in his clothes.

"Come on, let's get in bed," Carlos says, holding his hand out to T.K to help him up. T.K. silently takes his hand, letting himself be led to their bedroom and ushered under the covers. Carlos disappears, leaving T.K. alone in bed, already starting to feel cold again.

Carlos reappears a moment later with a glass of water and some ibuprofen. T.K. hesitates, taking pills of any kind makes him nervous, even if they're harmless.

"You're in pain Ty, it's okay," Carlos says, reading T.K.'s mind.

T.K. sighs, nodding, before he accepts the pills from Carlos and quickly swallows them before he can rethink it. His whole body hurts and he knows he needs something if he wants any chance of sleeping.

As T.K. lays back down, Carlos crawls in behind him, pressing himself against T.K.'s back and wrapping an arm around his waist to hold him close.

"Don't know if I'll be able to sleep," T.K. whispers into the dark a few minutes later.

He can't turn his mind off, probably replaying what happened over and over in his mind. Carlos has been there, he knows. Not to mention that he must be hurting physically too.

"How long were you in the water?" he asks. As much as T.K. might not want to, he probably needs to talk about it, get it out.

"Who told you?" T.K. asks.

"Marjan," Carlos answers. He feels T.K. shiver, and pulls him slightly closer to his own body, hoping to share some of his body heat.

T.K. is silent for a while. Long enough that Carlos is starting to wonder if he'd fallen asleep after all.

"I don't know. Felt like a long time," he finally answers.

"That must have been so scary," Carlos says softly.

T.K. goes quiet for a few minutes again. "I couldn't breath... I didn't think I was going to make it out," T.K.'s voice shakes as he speaks.

"I'm so glad that you did," Carlos says, resisting the urge to squeeze T.K. to avoid putting pressure on his many bruises.

"I was so scared I'd never see you again," T.K. whispers, voice breaking.

"I'm right here, and you're okay," Carlos reassures him.

Minutes go by, but T.K. doesn't say anything else. Hopefully he can get some sleep, but Carlos needs one more answer first.

"You got checked out right?" he asks. He's sure that Owen would have made him at least get looked over by the medics before being sent home, but just to be sure...

"Yeah, Tommy said I was okay to go home," T.K. answers, "Probably bruised some ribs but nothings broken, no head injury, no internal injuries," he rattles off.

"Okay, good," Carlos breaths out a sigh, feeling at least a little relieved. "Try to sleep now okay? You must be exhausted," he continues, giving T.K.'s shoulder a careful squeeze.

"Hmm, yeah," T.K. mutters, "Stay?" he asks.

"Of course Ty, I'm not going anywhere,"

[nisbanisba]

More self indulgent Tarlos sickfic for wip Wednesday. Will this fic ever be finished or have a plot? It remains to be seen!

————————————————-

TK hangs up with Andrea and creeps into the bedroom where his husband is a lump under the blankets. As he gets closer he can see Carlos’ eyes are open a bit, but unfocused.

“Hi, baby,” TK whispers, sitting on the edge of the bed and rubbing Carlos’ duvet-covered back. “How are you holding up?”

Carlos takes a second to come back to himself a bit, shuddering. “Freezing,” he finally manages. “Can I have more blankets?”

Carlos is radiating heat even through the layers of blankets. TK frowns and moves his hand up to cup Carlos’ cheek, brushing the back of his other hand against his forehead, then cheek, then the side of his neck. “Baby, I don’t think so,” he apologizes as Carlos pouts and leans his face into the touch. “You’re on fire. Let me take your temp and then I’ll get you more meds and water.”

Carlos attempts some combination of a glare and pleading cow eyes, but the effect is lessened by the unfocused haze in the aforementioned eyes, as well as the fact that he can barely keep them open. Nearly swayed nonetheless, TK rubs Carlos’ scalp soothingly before pressing a gentle kiss to his hot temple. “My poor baby,” he murmurs. “You’ll feel better. I promise.”

No pressure tags under cut

@paperstorm @scifigrl47 @lemonlyman-dotcom @sapphic--kiwi @mrs-corrections-78 @doublel27 @carlos-in-glasses @ladytessa74

i can't remember who writes stuff, anyway, anyone who wants to please post

[alrightbuckaroo]

I completely agree! I think it's a much minor version of the catalyst of the break-up. Carlos including TK in a plan he never really confirmed with him or gave him a chance to adjust to. I think they're both a creature of habit in their own ways and part of them growing as individuals and as a couple was learning the ins and outs of compromise, and with Carlos in particular, you can't always expect everything the fall into the place the way you think it should.

As much as TK is (justifiably) not happy with the nice red snapper dinner prepared for him by Carlos when he arrived expecting nothing but a hook up, I got thinking while rewatching yesterday that he seems to be planning on sitting through dinner...until Carlos comes out with his "it's a meal not a marriage proposal" line.

That got me wondering what would have happened if Carlos had not said "marriage proposal" at dinner. Obviously, TK is not looking for this, but we know that he and Carlos had excellent chemistry from the start, were very well suited to each other, and could talk and get along easily. I wonder if sitting through dinner with Carlos at that early point would have started to break down TK's walls sooner. Could they have gotten past the uncomfortable point and ended up enjoying the meal...and whatever might have come after?

Or would TK have felt so resentful about the whole thing that it would all have been too awkward and uncomfortable? Maybe it would have actually set them back! It could have been like a bad date that made them think they weren't compatible.

I also think it's possible that, even if Carlos hadn't said "marriage proposal," he would have inevitably said something else that would have made TK leave before the red snapper could be served. TK was in peak feral cat mode at that point and ready to flee at the least little thing.

[earl-grey-teacake]

Hey! Just wanted to say I've been loving re-reading all the asks on Ao3 and I've gone back through the tags on here as well and I had a question - you've previously said that Oscar and Logan were adopted and I'm curious did Carlos and Lando and George and Alex know the mother before had? Like was it an arranged adoption or did they go through an agency? Because the idea of Carlos and Lando meeting a few babies and not getting the right vibe and then seeing Oscar and just going 'ah perfect' is quite cute.

Hello! Thank you so much!

Oscar was adopted in Australia during the week leading up to the GP. A baby left in a carrier just on the other side of the fence surrounding the track with a partially filled out form reading OSCAR and DOB: O4/06/2***. A McLaren employee heard crying and happened upon the abandoned child. Shocked, they quickly rushed the child back to McLaren hospitality before leaving to find a doctor and police. Oscar, however, did not stop crying- wailing his poor little lungs out, feeling alone and scared and utterly abandoned by the world.

Lando couldn’t stand the crying, and took the baby out of the carrier to soothe him. The infant quickly clung to Lando, having stopped crying and opted to quietly rest his head against Lando’s chest. This attachment became even more obvious when the doctor and police arrived, with Oscar refusing to go with anyone else, forcing Lando to hold him while he got a check up. The police checked to see if there was a missing person’s report or anything that could lead information on the parent, but there was nothing. This was simply an unwanted child left by the race tracks.

Lando couldn’t help but feel his heart break. This was an innocent baby that had done no wrong, he didn’t deserve this. The longer Lando held him, the more determined he was to adopt him. He loved kids, had always wanted kids, but with his work there was no time to put too much thought into it. There was also the fact that his fiancé was also a driver. Lando had never talked in-depth about kids with Carlos and there was a strong possibility he would refuse for the sake of his career. But Lando couldn’t stand not keeping Oscar, he had to adopt him, he knew that and if Carlos wasn’t supportive than Lando could be a single father. Thankfully, he didn’t have to think about that since Carlos had walked in to see Lando holding the sleeping infant and asked if Lando wanted to adopt Oscar so Carlos could have the lawyers get started on the paper work. They stayed an extra couple weeks to get the paper work filed before they flew back home to Monaco with a 1-month old baby.

**************

Alex and George went the adoption agency route. They had gotten secretly married when the entered F1 and when Alex was dropped off RedBull, they entertained the idea of adopting a child. However, with Covid, George moving up to Mercedes, and Alex moving to Williams, the plan to adopt a child was put on the back-burner. The idea was brought up again when Lando and Carlos adopted Oscar. Alex loved how George looked holding a baby, and George adored how Alex smiled when Oscar smiled back at him.

They gots lawyers, went through an agency and prayed that they would be approved. After 3 months of waiting, they received their approval notice in the mail stating they were to attend a panel and meet some children to see who would be a good fit. Within an hour, they were packed and on their way to London.

They met a couple babies, some were newborn, some could walk, and others were just learning how to talk. A person from the agency oversaw the whole thing, taking notes of interactions, how receptive the kids were to them, and how the baby’s temperaments would fit into their lives. The last baby brought out had tuft of blonde hair, light blue eyes, and a little name tag that read “LOGAN”.

He was shy and quiet, squirming in the arms of the caretaker until they placed him down as a cushion. He kept to himself but continued to stare at the couple. Alex smiled and scooted over, gently poking him and eliciting a giggle. Even though Logan couldn’t understand, Alex still spoke to him and Logan slowly responded in his own babbling before holding out his arms to be picked up. Alex quickly relented and picked up the child, holding his close to his chest as Logan played with the buttons on his shirt. George had come closer as well, poking his cheek and tickling his stomach. Logan let out a laugh and grabbed onto George’s finger and looked at him with those large, blue eyes, cementing in George’s head that this baby would be their baby.

George had looked through Logan’s file, looking to see what led to this adorable child being abandoned. There he saw the note “Born in Florida-> adopted in UK-> adoption terminated 1.5 weeks after arrival.” There was no extra information on why it was terminated and George was not keen as to the reason. Adoptions, especially foreign adoptions were difficult to obtain and the circumstances that must have led to the poor baby being here must not have been pleasant. But that didn’t matter, Logan had a new home now and it was with them. After a month of paperwork and home inspections, there were allowed to take their baby home to Monaco.

**************

Oscar is found at the race track as foreshadowing his successful future in F1.

Logan’s brief past is a nod at Logan being born in Florida, moving to Europe young, and being dropped by Williams after 1.5 years in F1.

[911lsbts]

How much are we going to see T.K. and Carlos trying to balance being parents and balancing work? They have family, but at the same time, they are the primary caretakers now of this kid.

Rashad Raisani: You’re putting your finger right on the end of the series is all I’ll tell you about that. That becomes a major issue, let’s put it that way.

Do they have time for themselves as a couple?

They will, I’ll put it that way, but I won’t tell you how.

As much as I love seeing Nancy (Brianna Baker) as captain and she’s already doing great, will we see Tommy (Gina Torres) back at the 126 before the show ends?

I can’t answer that. It would be too big. I can’t answer it. Let’s just say Gina Torres is a Ferrari. You don’t leave a Ferrari in the garage forever.

But will we see her physically at the 126? She could just be visiting.

[Laughs] If I answered it. I would be spoiling so much.

What else can you tease about the final three episodes for the characters and their relationships?

The thing that I can say is that everyone in the last two episodes gets pushed to their extreme limit—and some past it, to be honest. We have some of our most insane apocalyptic emergencies in 11 and 12. It’s basically a combination of The Last of Us and Chernobyl. It mirrors where all of the characters are, and most of them are in an apocalyptic space for one reason or another.

Mateo [Julian Works] is going to have an existential crisis going back to his status as a DACA, as a dreamer. T.K. and Carlos, they are not done with—yeah, they want to adopt Jonah, but it’s not that easy, and there’s going to be a major fundamental hurdle for them that they’re going to have to make a significant life decision to decide how they want to deal with it. Tommy is at the end of her life. Owen will be at the end of his life. Judd will have a new future that I think will both be very shocking but also feel hopefully very appropriate that will change the game of where he goes. Marjan is going to have a massive episode in Episode 10, which I think people will get a lot of joy from—I know I did, and I think it’s her best episode of the series. I think everybody’s going to have some big game-changing moments in the final three episodes.

What about for Paul (Brian Michael Smith)?

There’s a great—I have to say Brian pitched me an idea. He said there was this moment in the pilot where Owen tells Paul basically, there’s somewhere out there in Austin as a kid like you that doesn’t think they belong. And I want you here for when we run across that kid, you know what I mean? Whether it be non-binary, trans, gay, whatever. And Brian said, we said that in the pilot, but wouldn’t it be great if we did a story that showed that? And I thought, well, that is a great idea. And so the last two episodes we’re going to do that and we’re going to introduce a new major character, I should say, who Paul will be their kind of role model.

Are there any significant steps for any of the relationships in these last episodes beyond the adoption for Tarlos?

There may be new babies. I won’t tell you who. There may be deaths. I won’t tell you who. So there will be, there sure will be.

[blackbat05]

Persistence

Gryffindor! Carlos x Reader (House of Choice)

A/N: That Wimbledon Champion’s dinner video was so cute and a great inspiration. I might have also shown my crack side towards the end but I hope you enjoy😁 Funfact I wrote this in a day lmao.

“Good one! Let’s do five more and we’ll stop. It’s getting dark.” Ainsley yells from afar.

“Gotcha Cap!”

You take a deep breath and get your bat into position. Ainsley releases the bludger at top speed but you’re confident that this will be a walk in the park.

30 metres… 20 metres… 10 metres…

“Ah!!!”

You had to dodge from the aggressive ball at the very last second, bludger almost taking your ear off.

“Y/N! You ok?”

You quickly recover back onto your broom, wondering what the heck was that. “I’m good Cap!” You scan for the source of noise and lo and behold, you find the Gryffindor Beater taking a leisure stroll onto the field with a dozen of girls from every single house trailing behind him.

Just end me.

Ainsley gives a furtive glance as you land on the ground gracefully, putting your broom aside to confront the person at everyone’s attention.

“Alcaraz!” You raise both your arms in exasperation, tone high. “I would appreciate it if you would quit trying to disrupt my training?”

He should have been scared. Most guys on the other Qudditch teams would have shit in their pants. But not Carlos, the guy was simply one of a kind.

“Hello to you, amor.”

“Quit it.” You growled. Most girls would have fallen for his charms but not you. It’s guys like these that would stomp on your heart the moment they’re done toying with you.

Unfazed by the crowds, he takes a step forward to you and you can’t help but to notice the color of chocolate swimming in his eyes. Carlos smirks.

You don’t know what he has up his sleeve this time. Surely it can be worst than supergluing your butt to the handle of your broom. Your body freezes in anticipation as he opens his mouth to say whatever ridiculous things he has in his darned head of his.

“Go to the Yule Ball with me.”

Yeap. Definitely stupid things.

***

“You said no? Girl you are out of your god damn mind.” Ainsley widens his stride to keep up with you as you head to the dorm. “He is down bad for you!”

“I am probably just one of his conquests.” You waved it off dismissively. “Hey, Ains…” You looked at your captain who resembles a bobble head.

“No. I have a date.”

“Bullshit.”

“I do.”

“No you don’t.”

Ainsley gives you a look and you realize your best friend is speaking the truth. The two of you stare at each other in silence.

“He’s not going to give up is he?”

“I’m afraid not.”

***

You wondered if your friend was finally listening to the Divination classes. Ainsley was right. Carlos popped up everywhere you went. The dungeons before potion lessons, the Great Hall and even after your consult with Professor McGonagall who for the first time seemed throughly amused by the young Qudditch prodigy’s efforts.

“Please?”

“Don’t make me hex you Alcaraz. Why not go out with Simmons? She’s way more in your league than I am.”

He doesn’t answer your question and continues to persistently follow you to every possible place in school for the rest of the day.

***

You sit by the fireplace, completing the last bit of your assignment. Stomach growling, you look at the clock and realized you have yet to grab anything to eat.

Perhaps the kitchen would have something. You make your way down quietly to not get spotted by any Professors or the caretaker.

Tickling the pineapple, you head to the kitchen that was still bustling in the evening. Apart from the elves, you weren’t alone.

“I’ve tried everything! But she doesn’t believe me. What do I do?” Carlos groans and you duck behind a pot of pans, eavesdropping into their conversation.

“Perhaps some food sir? Miss Y/N always likes strawberries with whipped cream.” The elf suggested.

“Yeah, maybe I’ll take those. Thank you.” Carlos glumly accepts the bag of strawberries from another elf running around the kitchen.

“She helped me. When I was a nobody. She didn’t care how many cups I won, that I was the star player on the team.” Carlos sadly recounts to the elf who has climbed onto the counter to pat him on the shoulder.

You knew exactly what he was referring to. When you were in third year, you happened to run into Carlos being heckled by some older Slytherins who were saying incredibly nasty things about his background. You didn’t hesitate to hex all four of them good and willingly took the punishment for Carlos so that he could continue with his tryouts.

He remembered?

“She’s so sweet and courageous and brave.” He continues to confess his inner thoughts. “I wanted to get to know her better. Before I was sucked up in all of this.” He refers to the fame that came along with his exceptional athletic abilities. “But she thinks I’m lying. I really like her, you know.”

You breath hitches and you step out carefully behind him.

“You could have just told me that instead of following me around like a lost puppy.”

Carlos whips his head around. “I… uh… how long were you here?” He asks.

“Long enough.” You reply and sit beside him, thanking the elf for the strawberries. “I have to apologize for my attitude. I was just trying to protect myself and with all that you had going on… I didn’t think you would be interested in me.” You wring your hands nervously, not looking at him.

The realization hits Carlos slowly but surely and a mischievous thought floods his mind. Dipping his finger in the bowl of whip cream that the elf bought, he taps your shoulder and smears your nose with the cream the moment you tilt your head up.

You gasp, pretending to be offended. “And just when I thought we were clearing things up!” You swipe your own whip cream and attack him on his nose, leaving the both of you in a fit of giggles.

Carlos wipes the tears from his eyes and takes a deep breath to calm down.

“So… will you go to the ball with me?” The man in front of you is almost hopeful.

“Yes! I’ll go with you.”

***

Carlos adjusts his tie for the hundredth time this evening, waiting for you anxiously outside the dorm. The door opens and a group of giggling girls dressed to the nines take appreciative glances at him. Not that he noticed. He was too anxious, he couldn’t wait to see you-

“Sorry! I took too long did I?”

He does a double take, engraving your visuals in his memory. “You look beautiful.”

The ball was extravagant. The Great Hall had been transformed beyond recognition as students entered. Music from the live band was playing and most were already on the dance floor while a few stayed behind at the tables mingling with each other.

Carlos extends his hand for you to hold. “Shall we?”

You take his hand as he leads you onto the dance floor. Despite being a professional on the field, you couldn’t say the same on the dance floor.

Sensing your nerves, Carlos does a little shimmy of his hips, earning a small smile from you. He holds you by the waist and takes the lead, moving across the dance floor.

As you glide along with him, Carlos leans down, checking in on you.

“You alright?”

You lean in to him, wrapping both your arms around his waist before giving him a kiss under the chandelier. You couldn’t have been more sure and so was he.

This couldn’t have been more perfect.

***

Bonus Cut:

“Ah! Young love. Professor, you owe me ten galleons!” Professor McGonagall calls the suave Professor Juan Carlos over who hands her the money.

Never bet against Minnie.