#the very last carlos reyes edit... i'M FINe

[howtosingit]

911: LONE STAR | S5 E12 | “Homecoming” CARLOS REYES EDIT [ PART 4 OF 4] | ALL CARLOS EDITS

[tarlos-spain]

Summary:

When Tyler's memories come back to him, Owen realizes he hasn't been father of the year with TK. He needs to get his son back, talk to him and apologize for the past few months and years.

But TK has other problems when Enzo shows up on his doorstep, puts Jonah in his arms and tells him he's not ready to be a father. Suddenly TK and Carlos become fathers and TK loses one of his father figures.

That will only be the beginning.

Pairing: Carlos Reyes/TK Strand

Adknowledgement: Thanks to @lire-casander this story won't be here without your help, @morganaspendragonss, helping me with English and @chaotictarlos, yes this is one of you're fantastic edits.

Chapter 01:

He had only been gone twenty-four hours, but Owen felt like everything had changed when he returned to Austin. He felt he had failed TK as a father by speaking to his own father and telling him everything he had lost when they had been separated.

Remembering his dead brother, remembering all that he could have done differently to avoid what had happened to him, and being aware that he had never told TK where his name came from, made him put things in perspective about himself and his relationship with his son.

The last few months, from the fire in which he had almost lost TK to even Sadie's attack, it could be said that he had not been the father of the year; and abandoning TK to go to the mountains when his son probably needed him the most had not been his best gesture.

He had to change it, he had to talk to TK and apologize. He had to get him to listen to him, because he knew his son. TK would never hold anything against him and if he tried, like the day before, to tell him he was sorry, TK would change the conversation.

TK Strand hated direct confrontation and possibly in that too he was very much to blame because little TK had heard many arguments between his mother and him, and he knew how things had ended in their marriage.

He wanted to do it now, he knew it was TK's day off and Carlos was working, so he had a few hours to spend with TK at home and force him to listen to him. He had too much to tell him, too many things to fix.

He rang the doorbell, an elderly lady had let him in, but he heard no noise inside.

"TK!" He waited again and knocked on the door with his knuckles. "TK, it's Dad."

He looked at his cell phone; maybe he had told him he was going out, but there was no message.

He didn't want to call Carlos or text him telling him that TK wasn't answering at home because he didn't want to worry him. Besides, he had a key to the loft. He had never used it and in a normal situation would not allow himself to open it without permission from his son or Carlos.

He only had it for emergencies, it was the deal he had with TK when he had promised not to tell Carlos anything about how close he had come to using again the day after Gwyn's death.

"I don't tell Carlos anything, but you have to give me a key to your apartment in case something happens."

"I'm not going to..."

"I know, but you never know."

It made him uneasy to think that he might have used that key the night Sadie had attacked the boys. If only he'd had his instincts more ready, if only he hadn't been so focused on that crooked cop.

There had been a misfortune about to happen and the key he now held in his hand could have prevented it.

"TK, you know I have a key, I'm going to use it because I'm worried."

Again, the lack of response was all he needed to open the door without asking any more questions.

The loft was silent, dark and as if no one was there. He walked a few steps and called back to his son. everything was fine, it didn't look like anyone had forced the door open, everything was in its place and a lump on the couch caught his attention.

TK was lying there, curled up and looked asleep, although at first and with TK's experience, for a moment he stopped breathing, he got closer and checked that he was breathing, he didn't have a fever, he just looked asleep.

But when he got a little closer, he realized he was wincing in pain.

Keep Reading in AO3

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

❛ JUST ONE SECOND ❜

with Creeper Vargas.

Request: Holà! Do you mind to write something about Creeper ? This guys needs more love ! 😍 Maybe reader & Creeper are already in relationship. And Reader is firefighter & Creeper and Crew see her during intervention? And he can be very scared for her or very excited? Ending with smut ? 🙈🔥 If u don't want or can't.... That's totally fine 😊❤

BY ANON

Warnings: NSFW, SMUT and Creeper trying to be romantic.

Word count: about 2.9k

Aurora says: this writing hasn't been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I'm sorry about that!

Gif credits: @angels-reyes.

Masterlist.

You can’t lie. The fire warning from a location close to Vicki’s house surprised you. In less than fifteen seconds you are already wearing the heavy equipment, ready to drive the fire truck through the border of Santa Madre, crossing it by the private door you have to avoid the fact to wait for other cars to step aside and let you pass them away. The sirens can be heard all around the mexicali dessert, speeding up as soon as you see the smoke screen close to Riz’s lands, with furious engulfing blazes burning down a whole house. The police patrols are leading you the road, having to overtake them because of their low velocity. That doesn’t help you, and your boss shouting at you to do it either. Stopping the wheels dead with a dry noise, you all jump out of the heavy vehicle under the attentive looks of the neighbors. But you can’t think about it, about their whispers, not about the guys looking at you from Vicki’s porch. You’re too busy hearing the orders while García helps you to wear the equipment and the helmet covering your head completely. A house. Two floors. One garage. Kitchen, bathroom and living room in the first one. Three dorms, two bathrooms and a built-it closet in the hallway. A woman screaming through the second window on the top floor at your left.

Your legs move faster than ever, as they trained you for years. You’re leading the team, organizing where they must go. Two men on the first floor. Two women and you on the second one, while the other four are outside trying to set off the burning with the hoses from the truck. Whenever you cross a door, it’s like coming into hell. The heat is scorching. You can feel how your body melts because of it, going upstairs and controlling the fire around you to not get fucked up by an unexpected flame. The doors are closed, grabbing the axe on your back to hit the center of them, so the rooms can breathe a little. Knowing by that technique where the fire originated. The color of the smoke says a lot about it. The blacker, the closer you are to the epicenter.

“BE FUCKING HURRY, TEAM! THIS SHIT IS GONNA FALL DOWN!” You scream, as loud as your throat let you, while they begin to explore the dorms.

It’s easy to find the mother and her children, feeling some water refresh your equipment when you get closer to a window. You’re always the last one to go downstairs, making sure no one else is there. Through the walkie you can hear your boss shouting at you to go out, before the house gets destroyed. The water is not helping to turn off the fire. But when you’re about to do it, you hear a high-pitched cry coming from the built-it closet. Closed. With all your force, you hit the doorknob to break it and open it. A small dog jumps into you, scared, crying and moving his tale. A mix of emotions that you’re fast to deal with. Leaving the axe on the floor, you open your jacket to tuck him under it, zipping it again to protect him from the flames. He’s not going to die there, and later you will figure out why he was locked down inside a wardrobe. Running again towards the stairs, you have to throw yourself back when a roof wooden beam falls over them, covered into flames. Just one second. You have just one second to go backwards, disconnecting from the world, from the screams of your boss, from the screams of your mates calling you through the walkie. Just one second to remember where the whiter smoke was. Just one second that can cost your life if you don’t act quickly. You’ve been in worse shit than this. Fuck, you will adopt that cute puppy that just in one second stole your heart. And you smile at him, just one second.

Turning around above the heavy boots, you run to the second dorm kicking the door to come in. The flames are burning down the walls, leaving enough space to reach the window. Hitting the glass with your elbow to break it, you stick your head out.

“BRING THE BLANKET! BRING THE FUCKING BLANKET!”

As soon as your team finds you, they run to the fire truck to grab a big blanket to positionate themselves under the windows, stretching it high enough to jump onto it. You take just one second to surround your chest with both arms, holding the dog tightly under your grip, before placing a leg over the frame to boost yourself out. In the fall, you turn your body to give them your back. You can feel the animal stirring scared under your arms, hugging him a little more, until bouncing twice on it. Your team helps you to get up when they leave you on the floor, unzipping your jacket to calm the dog crying, under the claps and the cheerings of the viewers there as if it was a fucking tv show. No, that’s not Chicago Fire mexicali version. That's real life, where you can die in just one second.

Your girls from the hospital unit grab the dog to put him in an air mask, checking that he’s okay while you take off the equipment with some help. Your boss spills a water bottle over you, when you are already off from the uniform to refresh your skin and your face.

“WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING ABOUT, (Y/N)?!”

“I COULDN'T LEAVE HIM THERE! WHY THE FUCK HE WAS LOCKED DOWN?”

You try to find the family between the patrols, the gossips and your team. But before you can find them being assisted by the paramedics, you find the crew. They’re assorted looking at you and, among them, Creeper on the brink of collapse. His face is the last thing you see before falter to the ground, with your heartbeat over the sky.

You have a deep breath, taking off the mask that covers your face, coughing and puking some salive over the edge of the hospital bed. Bewildered and stunned you try to focus your gaze, hearing a lot of voices like far echoes. The light is blinding you, putting a hand on your eyes and shaking your head, while the calls get clarified, finally hearing your name. A doctor takes off your hand to cheek your pupils and your throat. Apparently, you swallowed too much smoke and that provoked you to faint. You can hear how he talks with some men, assuring them that you’re okay and that you just need to rest.

“My mo-mouth… tastes like… ugh, shit”. You cough again, feeling some pain doing it. “Tastes like a fucking… ashtray”.

The soft laughs flood the room, opening slightly your eyes enough to see your boss, Bishop, Marcus and Creeper close to the bed. Your boyfriend sits on the edge, holding your hands and leaning forward to kiss your forehead, pulling away some bristles of your hair.

“Damn, mami… You scared the shit outta me…” He whispers with a low broken thread of voice.

“I bet you… were… fe-feeling hotter th-than that house, watching me in… action”. You mutter between some more coughs.

“(Y/N), how do you feel?” Carlos, your boss, comes closer to caress your left cheek.

“Ready to… work tomorrow, jefe”.

“Yeah, fuck you, (Y/N)”. He replies breaking into laughs. “I will sign your withdrawal for some days. Rest as much as you can, arai’?”

“Yes, daddy, I’ll… be a go-good girl”. You joke with him, before seeing him leave the room to keep your mates informed.

“Do you need anything, querida?”

“Nah, Bish… I’m just tired”. You answer trying to get up on your forearms with Creeper helping you to lie somewhat comfy. “Where’s the dog?”

“Frankie is taking care of him in the station, until you get out. He thought that maybe you wanted to adopt him”.

Your eyes go up to your boyfriend, twisting his neck assorted on caressing your hands.

“Neron?”

“Hm…?” Shaking his head, he comes back to the real world. “Yeah… Yeah, sure. We can bring him with us”.

“We will let you rest, mija”. El Padrino narrows one of your feet, sending you a kiss through the air before leaving the room and closing the door.

“You okay?” You ask then, coupling your body among Creeper's arms.

“You know…” The half mexican clicks his tongue, accommodating his head on the pillow lying down. “I like your job, it's cool and you save lives, but… I've never seen you working and that… shit really scared me, baby. Seeing you jump outta the window, the explosion after that…”

“Wait. What explosion?”

“You were leaving in the ambulance when it happened, I saw it through ma' mirror”.

“Aw, you were following me like a doggy?” You tease him hugging his back, and pecking his face.

“Shut up, crazy bitch… I was fuckin' worried thinking I've lost you”.

“Nah… not until you… motherfucker… ask me to marry you”. Pointing his chest with your forefinger, chuckling, you highlight every word. “Then, I can die”.

“Ain't gonna propose to you to keep you alive”. He says laughing, while you hit his chest with pursed lips. “I fuckin' love you, mami. If I lose you, I die”.

“Now you know how I feel every time you leave our home, Creeper”.

“Yeah, okay, but do you love me too or what? I'm trying to be fuckin' romantic”.

You laugh again between some coughs, covering your mouth with a hand.

“Let me show you how much, papi”. You mutter raising a leg over his waist, to push him closer.

“No, no, no… We ain't gonna fuck here”. He breaks into laughs, trying to survive to your puppy eyes. “Shit, no. Someone could enter…”

“And, what? I was about to die, they will understand it”. You sob trying to pity him.

“You can make any efforts”. He says pulling away your leg, but it comes back holding him tighter.

“Touch me at least… C'mon, Neron… please…”

“Baby, stop moving!” You can't help but rub your body against his, complaining with some noises.

“C'mon… Just a little… please”.

“Bab—”.

“C'mon! You know you will end up doing it…”

“Fuck… I fucking hate you, bitch”.

“Okay, douchebag, I get it. But touch me”. You beg him biting his lower lip.

“If you feel like you're dro—”.

“Fucking touch me, Neron”.

The man laughs softly, moving his hand on your waist down to your pelvis, tucking it under the green pants of the hospital. Creeper has the other arm surrounding your neck, while your fingers get tangled in his shirt as he's closer. His fingertips tour the fabric of your panties, pressing the center slightly moistened, licking your lips with his tongue before kissing you. Lying a little on the mattress, your boyfriend accommodates himself over one of his sides while you curl your right leg.

“Don' fuckin' scare me again, ah?” He whispers onto your lips, with his dark eyes fixed on yours. You just nod leaving a short kiss on his lips.

When you feel one of his fingers easily sliding into you, you can’t help but have a breath biting your lip. He does it slowly, enjoying every gesture on your face, pulling it back with the same pace to thrust you again. He’s torturing you, and you know it, as if it was a punishment for worrying him. But soon, his hand begin to move somewhat faster, containing some moans to avoid being heard by the doctors and the patients that walk through the hallway. Creeper loves when you fuck in public, hiding from the rest, and you have to try to be the most silent possible. Your hands press his head when he strokes your needy clit, gasping straight to his lips and closing your eyes for some seconds. Now it feels better than ever, having thought just for one second that it wouldn’t happen again.

“Do you think you can have another finger, ah?”

“Shit, yes, Creep'”.

A fleeting smile appears on his mouth, pounding you without expecting to be this fast. You have to collide your lips against his when you experiment that pleasure, bringing his hand to your limits, to drown a delighted scream. You're so wet that he can drown them inside your pussy without doing any efforts, fucking you as you begged some seconds ago. The fact that you can be caught for a nurse and that he's constantly drinking your gestures, maintaining your gaze with his, makes you feel out of control moving your waist against his hand.

“Fuck, papi…”

“You want a third?” He asks with his voice getting somewhat hoarsely.

“Please… Please”. You whisper with some difficulties because of your breath.

“Enjoy it, mami”.

The third finger gets digged into you harder, covering your mouth with a hand that your boyfriend slaps and takes to the back of his head.

“You asked for, carry with consequences”. He growls speeding up the moves of his wrist.

“Fuck, Neron…” You cry resting your forehead on his over the pillow. “Make me cum, please… I need you to do it”.

The half mexican kisses you, tucking his tongue inside your mouth in a filthy kiss, desperate for finding yours and mixing your salivas. One of the things he loves the most is when you beg him, being at the edge of the orgasm and spreading your legs for him, to do with you whatever he wants.

“Not yet, baby”. He denies shaking his head and pulling away his hands from your pants.

“'Fuck you doing, Neron?” You complain frowning, out of air. “If you don't finish, I'm gonna rip off every tat—”.

“Pull off your clothes”. He interrupts you chuckling, and grabbing your throat with his wet fingers.

Arching your back and sliding the pants and the panties through your legs, he helps you with the horrible green shirt.

“Open your legs”.

“Wh—”.

“(Y/N), open your legs”. He demands squeezing one of your thighs.

At the moment you obey, he settles himself between them crawling down your stomach without taking off his eyes from you. Sitting up on your forearms, lying against the bed backrest, Creeper sinks his face in your wet pussy sucking your clit in the meantime you place your legs over his shoulders. If there is something he does like a master is eating you out. His tongue toures your entrance and your clit with passion, pounding you with the same three fingers that started that game of being silent. He knows well what you like, how you like it and where he has to press to make you cum.

You can't help but place both hands on his head, caressing his back with your shaky legs, putting you closer from the ecstasy by hitting your g-spot with his long fingers. A soft moan escapes inevitably from your throat when his free hand finds your breasts, pinching one of your nipples, massaging and squeezing it brisling every inch of your skin. Your eyes are on him, watching how much he is enjoying pleasing you, but controlling your breathing to not make you cough. If you do it, he will stop and you will be lost. But you're okay. More than okay. His warm mouth devouring you is like touching the sky, the effort he makes to tease you and make you cry out his name, wanting someone to hear you. But you're an expert. He has done it a lot of times and you always win.

“I'm so close, papi…” You mutter with a trembling voice, arching slightly your back, when his fingers go harder and faster nailing in your wetness.

And it doesn't take you much more, covering your mouth with both hands and closing your eyelids, drowning his full name on your palms. Creeper pulls out his fingers, nailing both hands on your thighs, drinking your juices desperate to taste you until your body can't fight anymore against his lips sucking you out.

“Fuck, baby”. He says after leaving a last lick all over your pleased pussy with the full extension of his tongue, crawling up to your mouth while your legs get intertwined with his. “You're my favorite meal”.

“I want you to fuck me, please”. You beg him between some kisses, trying to recover the air. “I can feel you… so fucking hard, Neron…”

“Not until we're home”. He rejects you wrapping your body with both tattooed arms. “For the moment, settle for this”.

“Papi…”

“No”. He repeats biting your lower lip, rubbing the rigid fabric of his jeans against your wet core, making you moan again.

“You're wanting it as bad as I want it”.

“I just want you to get better. Then, I'll fuck my future wife all the time she asks me for”.

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[tarlos-spain]

First of all, Happy Pride Month, everybody!

And now lets go for what is important today the Tarlos Weekly Prompts (Pride edition) has started and I'm so excited to publish my first fic.

Prompt: We're taking a queue from Rafa here. Today's prompt is: Carlos gets hurt while he's in route to the wedding and TK thinks that he's been stood up.

Title: This journey has no expiration date

Summary: Carlos didn't want to be late for his own wedding, he wasn't going to stop. But destiny had another idea

TK wondered at what bad time they had decided to keep that unique tradition of a traditional wedding. It was two men getting married, which made their bond out of the ordinary. They had four groomsmen, two of them women, and Owen had gotten to officiate the wedding, since they hadn't let him walk TK down the aisle as well.

The Kings ranch had been the designated place to hold the celebration, both the ceremony and the banquet. Nothing fancy , they hadn't wanted expensive restaurants, banquets with fine food, or any place that forced anyone to wear suits or three-figure dresses.

The wedding was small, they hadn't invited anyone they weren't really close to, so they didn't expect more than forty people, fifty if all the Reyes family members who were invited showed up.

But TK was hysterical.

He hadn't seen Carlos in over twenty-four hours and they had spoken by text in two short conversations because they both had a lot of things to finish with the preparations.

"He's not going to back out, is he, Dad?" he asked his father as Owen finished trying on the three hats Gabriel had decided to lend him.

"If you're asking me if Carlos can back out and run off without marrying you, it makes me want to slap you for thinking something like that about your fiancé."

"But it can happen, Alex did."

"Alex was in a dick who didn't see what he was letting slip away by banging someone else. You had a bad eye choosing that one. Take my word for it, Carlos is dying to marry you."

"Don't say that, Dad," TK protested as he finished buttoning his light blue shirt and Owen turned away uncomprehending. "That thing about Carlos being...what you said, about marrying me."

"It's a figure of speech." TK shook his head. "Okay, sorry. Come, let me put your clothes on properly, I hope it's your only wedding and I want my son to be the most handsome of the day. Carlos will be here in no time."

"And why did he have to work today, the very day of his wedding?" protested TK in an almost childish way. "Weren't there more agents who could deliver those documents?"

Owen rested both hands on his son's shoulders.

"You need to calm down, son. I mean it. It's your wedding day and between all of us we're going to make sure it's perfect."

TK's phone began to vibrate. Carlos was calling.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, tiger. I'm coming, sorry for the delay, but I promise I'll be at the ranch in ten minutes."

"Promise me."

"Ty... come on."

"Promise me you're coming, babe, please. Promise me."

"I promise I'm in the car, on my way to my parents' ranch and half dressed."

"I don't want to know what that means half dressed, but it doesn't sound like ready to get married so please come before I get something."

Carlos ended the call with a huge smile on his lips. They were going to get married, it was their wedding day and there was no one and nothing that could change that. They had been through every problem imaginable but they had gotten there, the wedding was the goal and they were getting there together.

He had rushed out of the police station so no one would stop him for a last minute emergency. He was going to get married. He had taken the car and put it in first, straight ahead to his parents' house, and had only used the phone to tell TK that he was on his way, even if he was running a little late.

Two cars sped past him and almost made him lose control of his own vehicle. It made him nervous that they were going so fast, they were running away from something or at least one was chasing the other.

Something made one of the vehicles lose control, its driver swerved several times and suddenly went off the road, while the first vehicle stopped quietly and two men got out, armed, in the direction of the other car.

Keep reading on AO3

Carlos could go ahead, it was not his problem and he had more than enough reason to ignore what was happening. But those guys, the armed men, were not cops, it was easy to tell; and their guns, sawed-off, were only going to create problems.

"Shit... This is agent Carlos Reyes," Carlos started to say on his cell phone, calling his precinct. "I'm just outside of Austin, heading northeast about two miles. I'm seeing a crashed vehicle and two individuals exiting another vehicle with guns. Requesting..."