#[looks directly at 911 lone star]

[justsomeguycore]

luke danes has never done anything wrong ever in her life

[rmd-writes]

'tis the season

@stereopticons tagged me to share my winter/holiday fics because 'tis the damn season! I love a winter/holiday fic despite the fact that I live in the southern hemisphere and today is 1 December and the temperature hit 35C today 😰

Schitt's Creek

and then one day, everything changed | T | 9.1k | canon divergence

All David wants to do is sign Marcy Brewer on to sell her amazing fudge at Rose Apothecary. Unfortunately for him, her very snippy, business consultant son gets involved. In an effort to win both Marcy and Patrick over, David invites Patrick to spend some time in the store and on a vendor trip. There’s snow forecast for the day of the vendor trip, but it’s Schitt’s Creek and it never snows. Right?

it's just for snow | E | 18.1k | coffee shop / fake dating AU

When David gets a last minute wedding invitation and Stevie refuses to go with him, he needs to find another date - he needs to show his so-called 'friends' (and Sebastien Raine) that he's thriving now. Enter: David's new favourite barista... — aka the coffee shop / fake dating / road trip / snowed in / there was only one bed fic no one asked for

since we've got no place to go | E | 6k | canon compliant

Patrick books a winter weekend away so that he and David can connect.

Red, White & Royal Blue

you're all that i need | M | 3.9k | coffee shop/book store AU

“Alex.” Henry leans against the wall behind the counter with his arms folded, wearing a pale blue cable knit sweater with the sleeves pushed up and navy chinos. Alex wishes he wouldn’t because it only emphasises his forearms.

He crosses his own arms in response. “Henry.”

“Are you actually looking for a book?” Henry asks with a sigh. “Or are you just wasting my staff’s time?”

“That staff member is my sister.”

“I’m well aware,” Henry says drily. “Doesn’t change the fact that you’re probably wasting her time. Which book are you looking for?”

“Oh.” Alex grimaces slightly. “I’m not actually–” He exhales. “Hunter is in the coffee shop, so I got the fuck out.”

yours for the afternoon | T | 4.6k | coffee shop / fake dating AU

Henry is quietly minding his own business in his favourite coffee shop, when he’s rudely interrupted by an insufferable man attempting to flirt with him. He’s rescued by none other than Alex – a fellow cafe regular who he’s long admired from a distance – posing as his date.

Snowed In? Snow Problem | E | 7.3k | college AU

Henry and Alex get snowed in at their dorm for the holidays, whatever will they do?

911 Lone Star

Make the Yuletide Gay | M | 19.6k | college / fake dating AU

"I'll be your boyfriend for Christmas."

Carlos stares at him like his brain is struggling to comprehend what TK is offering. It's a shared feeling, given that sometimes TK's brain engages before his filter does, and this is definitely one of those times. There’s no room for regrets, though, and he’s not really sure he regrets making the suggestion.

“TK,” Carlos starts softly. "What you're suggesting is— Well, it's a little crazy but also very generous. I can’t ask you to do that for me. It’s really too much to ask of anyone."

TK gets up off his bed and crouches in front of Carlos, his hands on Carlos’s knees. “Firstly, you're not asking, I’m offering. Secondly, consider it a social experiment, like the ones you learn about in class. Except this one directly involves you and me...as your fake boyfriend. You know, for science." --

Fake boyfriends. For science.

Your Place or Mine? | E | 4.5k | college AU

(the sequel to Make the Yuletide Gay)

From best friends to fake boyfriends to real boyfriends, it’s been an eventful few days for TK and Carlos, but now they’re finally back home and alone.

Whatever will they do?

Tagging @welcometololaland @liminalmemories21 @strandnreyes @three-drink-amy @everwitch-magiks @indomitable-love @cha-melodius @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @inexplicablymine @lemonlyman-dotcom @carlos-in-glasses @alrightbuckaroo @iboatedhere @reyesstrand @lightningboltreader @indestructibleheart @lilythesilly @maxbegone @mostlyinthemorning and anyone else who wants to play to share their own winter/holiday fics!

[actually-not-me]

This milli of a second when Ronen looked directly into the camera. They couldn't have chosen a better title than "The Big Heat" 🔥

911: Lone Star S02|E12 "The Big Heat"

[chicgeekgirl89]

Day Zero

Fandom: 911 Lone Star

Characters: T.K. Strand, Carlos Reyes, Gabriel Reyes, Owen Strand

Rating: T

CW: Non-consensual drug use, mentions of addiction

Summary: After a lifetime of struggle, T.K. is finally clean. He's living with the love of his life, has found a family at the 126, and is creating a future he never thought he could have. Having his sobriety stolen away again wasn't part of the plan. A follow up to the events of 3x12 “Negative Space.”

A/N: I wrote this directly after 3x12 aired and then never posted it because it's such a sensitive topic. I'm hopeful I've done T.K.'s addiction and sobriety and the struggle he might have after the events of the episode justice.

Read on AO3

T.K. is high. He’s floating, drifting, his mind blissfully unaware of anything resembling reality. He knows he’s high, he’s been high so many times that the feeling of it is as familiar to him as breathing.

It should feel good. This is something he craves, not as constantly as he once did, but it’s always there, a sleeping beast, dormant inside him. Waiting. Always waiting. And now he’s finally gotten it again.

But something eats around the edges of the haze, something sharp, fearful. This is wrong. He doesn’t want to be high. He doesn’t want…how did he…what’s…?

He forces his eyes open, the room around him a swirl of confusing colors. He can hear someone yelling, something heavy falling nearby. It takes him far too long to realize he’s on the floor in his bedroom, the carpet under his cheek familiar. Carlos had been eyeing it at Pottery Barn for months even before he bought the loft. 

Carlos.

Carlos. 

Something warm is pressed up against T.K.’s leg and he slowly turns his head to find his boyfriend’s body splayed out on the floor next to him, eyes closed, form horribly still.

“Carlos,” T.K. croaks, fear and panic combating the effects of the drugs that are swirling through his system. 

There’s more yelling close by but T.K. can’t make out what’s being said. His mind is only capable of one thing at a time right now and even focusing on that is difficult. He tries to sit up, but his muscles feel like jello, so he drags himself across the floor, trying to get close enough to check on his boyfriend, fingers reaching out, still too far to do any good.

“Carlos!”

A familiar voice calls his name this time, and seconds later Gabriel Reyes appears, dropping to his knees, his hands going to Carlos’ face. For one horrible, terrible, god awful, heart stopping moment, Carlos doesn’t move and T.K. thinks he’s dead. Really and truly dead and gone.

But then he lets out a moan and sucks in a deep breath, his chest rising and falling and T.K. feels such crashing relief surge through him that he nearly passes out again. 

Gabriel turns and puts a hand on his shoulder. “T.K., are you with me?”

T.K. tries to make his mouth cooperate but his tongue too large, and the words in his mind feel like they’re slipping in and out of focus. Gabriel pulls him up into a sitting position, leaning him against the foot of the bed. “Strand! I could use some help in here!” he calls.

“Hang on!” T.K. hears his dad’s voice respond from the other room. “Marjan’s bleeding pretty bad, looks like she’s been stabbed.”

Marjan is here? T.K. is so confused, desperately trying to stay focused, to not let the darkness drag him under again. And if Marjan is bleeding he should help.

“Whoa, whoa, you stay right here.” Gabriel puts a hand against his chest and T.K. realizes that he tried to get up, although he didn’t make it very far since none of his extremities seem to be working well right now.

Gabriel has gotten Carlos sitting up and is propping him next to T.K., his eyes glassy and vacant, but open, awake, alive. Gabriel holds him up with one hand while he holds his cellphone with the other, talking rapidly to someone about multiple ambulances and backup.

T.K. can hear Marjan now, she sounds furious, and he can see Sadie, sprawled on the floor like the rest of them, but his brain still can’t piece together what’s happened, how they’ve all ended up like this. Things are fuzzy, muddled, like he should be able to understand what’s going on, but he can’t quite…

“What happened?” He finally manages to get the question past his lips, eyes sluggishly searching Gabriel’s for some kind of answer.

Gabriel is still focused on Carlos who is having a difficult time keeping his eyes open. “It was Sadie,” Gabriel says, his voice tight. “She burned down the gallery, blew up Gordon’s car, she did all of it.”

Sadie. Sadie did this? Sadie who’s been in their home for the last three hours? Sadie has been the one causing trouble. Sadie…

His dad crouches in front of him, concern all over his face. “Hey buddy, how you doing?”

“Dad,” T.K. looks at him, dread starting at the base of his spine and creeping rapidly up to his neck. “Did Sadie…did she…?”

“She drugged you. Both of you. It was in the soup. T.K. I’m so sorry,” his dad says, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“The drugs, was it—?“

“Oxy,” Owen tells him gently. 

Oh. Yeah. That makes sense. 

There’s a yell, Sadie’s voice and then Marjan lets out a few choice expletives. “I’ll be right back,” Owen promises and T.K. nods. There’s nothing he can do anyway. There’s nothing anyone can do. They just have to wait until the high wears off.

“Carlos do not go to sleep,” Gabriel says sharply and T.K. looks over to see his boyfriend’s head lolling to the side, eyes drooping as Gabriel forces him to stay upright. 

“Sorry,” Carlos mumbles, eyelids fluttering. “Tired.”

“I know, but you have to stay awake, all right?” Gabriel looks up at someone else. “Can you get them some water?”

T.K.’s eyes follow Gabriel’s and he finds Catherine stepping out of the room to do as the major has asked. T.K. has no idea when she got here. He has no idea about a lot of things right now.

He’s not interested in the water she hands him, but Gabriel urges both of them to drink. T.K. manages one sip and then just holds it in his hands, feeling the coolness of it through the glass. Carlos does a little better, getting down a third of the glass under his father’s watchful gaze. He’s sitting up under his own power now, but he’s still listless and looks like he could topple over at any second. T.K. hates it.

He wishes he could do something, wishes he could reach out and hold Carlos’ hand or rub his back or kiss his temple, anything to bring him comfort, but he can feel himself slowly sobering up and with every passing second reality sits heavier and heavier on his shoulders.

Everything he’s worked for. Every meeting, every chip, every night he’s chosen to go home instead of going out to score…it’s all gone. Erased. Like it never even happened. He’s back to square one. Zero days of sobriety.

This is a part of him he has never wanted Carlos to see. Carlos who always believes the best of him, Carlos who has no idea how truly deep and dark T.K.’s past is. Carlos who has only ever been T.K.’s fresh start, who is now dragged down into the muck and mire right along with him. 

“I think…I think I’m going to be sick.”

He looks up to find Carlos a shade paler than he already was, eyes glassy, a greenish tinge to his skin. 

Someone runs to the kitchen and returns with a large bowl they usually use for salads and popcorn, but will probably never use again, the memories of tonight now marking its surface in place of the geometric pattern on its sides.

Carlos retches, his stomach emptying, and T.K. sits frozen, letting everyone else help. He should be the one rubbing Carlos’ back, he should be the one telling him it will be okay. But he can’t. He can’t do anything other than sit in a growing sense of shame and guilt.

Paramedics arrive, thankfully no one T.K. is familiar with. They ask questions and T.K. and Carlos answer in monotone. Naloxone isn’t necessary since they’re both awake and alert, and when saline is offered T.K. refuses, he doesn’t want anything else being put in his body tonight. He does manage to come out of his miserable haze long enough to insist Carlos accepts. If nothing else at least Carlos will be hydrated as he comes down; hopefully it will help to lessen the inevitable headache and malaise he’s going to feel.

They’re transported to the hospital, doctors prodding and poking, asking questions, a familiar rhythm that makes T.K. sick to his stomach. The doctors and nurses know what happened, they're being sympathetic, but it’s too much. The dance is too familiar and it makes him want to crawl out of his own skin. 

He lies on a gurney, staring at the hospital ceiling as his emotions war inside of him. He wants the high to wear off, he wants it gone now. But there’s a part of him that is desperately holding onto it, that wants the numbness and the disassociation, and the bliss of being free from the nightmare he’s living. This part of him, the starving beast that he’s beaten back into submission again and again, rears it’s ugly head and screams that it’s not worth it. That he’s not worth it. That he did everything right, got himself clean and it still doesn’t matter, because here he is again, right back where he started. 

He’s an addict. 

No matter how much work he does, it’s all he’ll ever be. 

In the midst of being treated some detectives arrive to talk to them, their dads, Marjan. His own version of the story is short. Sadie was there when he got back from getting groceries. He felt hot, kind of off, and the next thing he knew he was staring at Carlos on the floor. No one asks him why he, an addict, didn’t recognize what he was feeling. But they should. They should tell him he’s an idiot for not figuring it out sooner. That if he’d realized what was going on, both of them might have been spared at least some part of this nightmare. 

Carlos’ version of the story is far more painful. “I saw her on the footage,” he says, his words still slow and labored, as if he’s having trouble getting them out, but he pushes on determinedly. “We talked, I asked her why she did it, and she said it was for Owen. Then I realized T.K. had been gone for too long. But when I got up,” he swallows hard, “I couldn’t keep my balance. I saw T.K. on the floor…”

Carlos turns and looks at him with tears in his eyes. “I should have realized. I should have known it was her. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” T.K. says. The words don’t sound soothing, even though he means them to be. He simply can’t muster up the energy to be Carlos’ emotional support right now. Yet another thing to feel guilty about.

They get home around three o’clock in the morning and collapse into bed. Carlos falls asleep with his head pillowed on T.K.’s chest, one of T.K.’s arms wrapped around him, a sign of how vulnerable he feels since usually T.K. is the one curled up into Carlos.

T.K. doesn’t sleep. He lies there wallowing, his mind turning over and over, fighting with the rage and grief and failure that threaten to eat him alive and take his relationship along with it. 

Carlos shudders and T.K. rubs his arm until he settles. He’s struggling. Maybe not as much as T.K., but he was still assaulted against his will in their home for the second time in less than a year. T.K. knows he feels violated and guilty, even if the guilt is unfounded. The only person who should feel any guilt is Sadie. And maybe his father for dragging death onto their doorstep yet again.

T.K. watches the clock tick past four, past five. When it says six am he slips from Carlos’ hold and takes the longest, hottest shower of his life before wandering into the kitchen and brewing some extra strength coffee. 

He doesn’t feel great, but it’s nothing he hasn’t felt before. The mild nausea, the pounding headache, the heaviness in his limbs, it’s all to be expected. So are the guilt and shame and perseverating thoughts whirling through his mind. The beast inside him is awake, hungering for another taste, even though he’s barely come down off the last one. But he’s used to that too. He’s telling it to shut up and it’s working for now. 

If only he could be sure it will last this time. 

“T.K.?”

The groggy, pained call moves him toward the bedroom. “I’m here,” he says as he walks quickly through the doorway so Carlos can see him. His boyfriend has been through enough, he doesn’t need to wake up panicking that T.K. has disappeared on a bender. “How are you feeling?”

“My head is pounding,” Carlos winces and squints against the light coming through the curtains as he pushes himself slowly into a seated position. “How are you?”

“I’m okay,” T.K. says. “Do you want some coffee? Or I can make tea?”

“You don’t need to take care of me,” Carlos tells him.

“I don’t mind,” T.K. says. It gives him something to do, something to focus on for a moment. “Tea?”

Carlos nods an affirmative and T.K. puts it together in short order along with some toast, and some ibuprofen from the medicine cabinet. 

“Thanks,” Carlos says as T.K. sets it all on the nightstand. 

“You’re welcome.” 

T.K. moves to the wardrobe and pulls out his uniform. “What are you doing?” Carlos asks.

T.K. hangs it on the wardrobe’s doorknob and moves to the dresser for clean underwear and socks. “Going to work.”

“You’re not staying home? I figured, after last night…”

T.K. takes a breath, tries not to let all the feelings battling inside him rear up and burst out of his mouth. Carlos doesn’t deserve that. “I need to go to work today,” is all he can say.

“Okay.”

The word sounds confused, maybe a little hurt. And it hurts T.K. to know he’s the cause of any of Carlos’ pain right now. But he has to go to work. If he stays here…if he stays here he’s going to fall apart. 

He pastes on what he hopes is a passably pleasant look. “I’ll be home by five. And I’ll keep my phone on if you need me.”

“T.K., maybe we should—“

“I can’t, Carlos.” The words are razor sharp and he feels brittle as he says them. “I…we’ll talk. We will. Later. I promise.”

He grabs his work bag and pauses long enough to press a kiss to Carlos’ forehead. “Rest today. I’ll be home in a few hours. I promise.” He looks into Carlos’ eyes, reminding himself that he’s no good to Carlos if he doesn’t take care of himself first, even if it hurts to do it. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The moment he steps out the door he can feel his mind starting to clear. He’s going to have to deal with all of this eventually. But right now, there’s work to be done. 

[thebigbangblogproject]

Hello! Here are some fandom events you're missing:

911 Reverse Big Bang (fandoms: 911 and/or 911 Lone Star; sign-ups close March 31)

118 Big Bang (fandom: 911; sign-ups close March 31)

Percy Jackson and the Olympians appreciation week (fandom: percy jackson and the olympians tv show; April 10-16, 2024)

Shadowhunters Reverse Bang 2024 (fandom: shadowhunters (and various books in that world); artist sign-ups close April 6; writer sign-ups close May 16)

30 Below (fandom: due South; running from March 11 - April 23, 2024)

Roswell New Mexico Big Bang (different than the one on the masterlist; no dates announced for 2024 yet, but definitely still active)

You don't need to post a reply to this (unless you want to, for record keeping purposes or something). Thank you for creating this blog and the event masterlist. That is some amazing amazing labor of love you're doing.

Thank you!

And yes, posting it directly like this WILL help with the spreadsheet since it has all the links and info we'd be looking for and i can now just forward the post to the person maintaining the spreadsheet

and it also pulls double duty as a signal boost for anyone looking for these events :D

And Thank YOU for sending on these events :D I know I can't find everything, especially in fandoms i'm not involved in, so this is always a big help :D

[tellmegoodbye]

What would 911: Sunshine* look like?

*Texas = the Lonestar state, Florida = the Sunshine state

LEMON!! This is my dream!!!

And yes 911: Sunshine is absolutely what I would call it!

Okay so first of all, location! I think the city a spinoff would most likely take place in is Miami, but in order for me to really personalize this (it's my dream, I do what I want) I'm going to switch things up and have this take place in my city: Tampa!

This location is interesting for many reasons, but mostly because of its layout and it being on the bay. The city itself is probably where most of the show would take place in terms of emergencies, but there's a lot going on here for a city on the smaller side! Of course, there will also be opportunities to see the rest of the bay area. (Tampa is the city, Tampa Bay is the region)

Here are some potential locations/ideas for emergencies

Skyway Bridge. Visually, it's just stunning, and yes many people are scared to drive on it. It collasped once over 40 years ago and it has safety mechanisms to prevent such an event from happening again, but I'm sure a 911 spinoff would get creative and find another way to make something go wrong.

The airport. Like 3x08 except worse because I have a chaos brain.

The arena where the Tampa Bay Lightning play.

Busch Gardens (a theme park)

Pick a beach. Any beach.

Literally tons of forest area where there could be a wildfire. Also tons of natural springs and rivers where you could have accidents.

Toursists. There is never a shortage of snowbirds being idiots in these parts.

Ybor City. There's a LOT of history here. It's also just a really cool place to explore. They have parades here (I've been in a few of them!) so maybe something goes wrong there.

Alligators. 🐊

Now lets talk major disaster arcs. 911 OG has earthquakes and tsunamis, Lone Star has ice storms and tornadoes, and 911: Sunshine would have a massive hurricane arc.

We kind of have an interesting history with hurricanes in Tampa Bay, at least in my lifetime, where every time we're about to get hit it shifts last minute and everyone who evacuated inland ended up being directly in its path. This happened with Charley in 2004, and Ian in 2022. Both made landfall in the exact same spot after shifting away from the bay area, which is kind of eerie.

I'd say a disaster arc like this would have one finally directly hitting the bay, and it would be a lot like the tsunami in 911. Very angsty, similar scenarios where peolpe go missing, and potential for the kind of water rescues Marjan was talking about doing back in Miami.

One little fun fact before I go. This doesn't apply to the city of Tampa, but I absolutely had to share this. If you venture out into the rest of the county like where I live, the firetrucks and ambulances are a lovely highlighter yellow! Or is it green? I've never been able to tell.

Don't ask me why. I have no idea. 😂

[emprean]

@dieangelo said ; an empty hallway of a hospital, it's dark outside and the overhead light in this hallway are dimmed ( accepting )

dad hates that she does this. he says she's overextending herself, star, and circe knows ( both because she knows and because she knows him ) he paces the kitchen back and forth along the worn line in the linoleum when they talk about it. but circe had known the accident was going to happen, and had known that the bed and breakfast was otherwise unbooked, and that if no one was there one mrs. clark would lie at the foot of the stairs until morning when it would be too late.

so. what was she to do? besides, circe likes a good bed and breakfast. she likes holing up in a cozy little room with a sketchbook and a chipped mug of tea, or sharing meals with someone who knows the history of a small town in a way few others do. so it's not that hard. and mrs. clark will be okay, because her lone tenant for the night found her and called 911 so fast that it was almost like she had called them before mrs. clark slipped. even if she hates hospitals, and their too-many terrible endings and the smell of antiseptic, circe can suffer it if it means helping somehow, someway.

she looks up from her phone, where she's considering hitting one of the few contacts and calling her dad, but the expected company has arrived. not a minute too soon. people never are. "hi." nice. easy greeting, always a win. she slips her phone into the tote bag that sits on the floor, leaning against the chair she sits in a somewhat precarious looking crisscross situation, "you were - are here to see me." it's not a question and circe stares nearly through nico rather than directly at him.

[roseapothecary]

Okay, guys... Lone Star moving to Tuesdays is objectively a good thing. I don’t know why I’m seeing so much negativity about it. 

Yes, there are shows with spin-offs that air back-to-back, but these shows have regular, consistent crossover and are directly related to each other. That isn’t the case for the 911s. Not only that, but numbers indicate that they don’t have the same viewership (unlike, say, One Chicago, where people tend to watch all three shows — many people watch either OG OR LS). For those reasons, having LS air at 9PM has been a waste this entire time.

8PM is the best, most coveted timeslot on network television.

By taking The Resident’s timeslot this winter, Fox a) avoids having a gap in programming and b) ensures that their #2 scripted show has a primetime slot. That’s much more ideal for the network. This move gives BOTH 911s a primetime slot and their own chance to succeed as individual shows. If you look at the ratings for previous years, LS’s ratings actually dropped when it moved to 9PM. They’re probably looking to avoid that drop.

At the end of the day, this is an indication that they hope to have both 911s around for a long time. It’s a good sign. Chill.

[polyamorouspunk]

Hello to my fave polypunk blog!

Now, it's totally okay if you don't feel like giving advice on the matter, since it's not directly about poly relationship stuff (although I am), but, I've got no better ideas on who to ask since my partners have all pretty much shrugged and been like "IDK I don't know the best play here either." But yeah, feel totally free to just leave this one in the ask box.

So, theoretically, if you were a trans guy flirting with a gay man over the web who has never seen you, how would you go about gauging his interest in trans guys without necessarily implicating yourself and ruining whatever image he's got of you in his head?

Technically, I suppose it doesn't matter, since I doubt we'll ever really meet. But it would be nice to be able to flirt without like, avoiding mentioning aspects of your own body, hence, wanting to find out. But also, it's fun to be casually flirty, and it would be sad and would hurt if he suddenly viewed me as a girl and started treating me like one. So I'd rather keep the illusion of being a cis guy alive for him if he doesn't have interest in trans bodies. Not because I want to "trick" him, but more because, since we're never gonna meet anyway, I'd rather he imagine me as a cis boy than a girl, and therefore talk to me as one, because it's been cathartic to have that kind of unhesitant acceptance of my masculinity.

Again, ultimately, it doesn't really matter. It's casual, for fun, unserious flirting. It's fun enough as it is, and we both know it isn't gonna go anywhere so a little bit of feeding into a fantasy isn't really a problem. I can keep playing the role of a guy who has been a guy the whole time. But it would be doubly nice to let that last bit of guard down.

As it stands, I've already often mentioned that "people mistake me for a girl all the time", and that "puberty didn't treat me well so I never got a deep voice or any height, but at least it gave me a fat ass and nice tits in exchange", and shown my tiny delicate hands after mentioning how they aren't very manly-looking, which aren't particularly damning factors on their own, but I feel like if I outright ask how he feels about trans guys after all that, the pieces are gonna click and change his mental picture of me whether or not I want him to change it yet, so I was hoping you might be able to think of a subtler method.

No I totally feel that. That’s why it’s so much easier for me to be like online as a trans guy (ish) instead of like irl because like. I do not pass at all. And right now I’m not looking to pass. But when I have an unrealistic crush on a gay guy a part of me always wants to be like “hey… ya like… boys… who don’t look like boys… or sound like boys… or ID as boys 90% of the time….” Like yeah the amont of gay dudes I have a crush on is. Sad. Like. Yeah.

I’m in kind of a similar place, perhaps like a tangential place, where I’ve been playing the “no gender, no problem” game a bit and I kinda wanna be like. Actually yeah this is my gender.

Like it’s nice when people online see you as just “a guy”, not cis, not trans, etc. Or see you as not even a girl or a guy just a person. I think it can be subtle enough if you can say something like “so do a lot of gay guys date pre-op trans guys or is it like they gotta have a dick and if that’s the case do they date a lot of post-op trans guys?”

Or, go the “character” route where you pick a [identity] character and talk about them. Like, this is SUCH a bad example but I know in 911 Lone Star there’s an arc where a trans guy is trying to date and he gets outed or outs himself or something and it goes bad because the trans thing like idk bringing it up as a “fictional character” is something I’ve seen suggested for polyamory and also suggested for polyamory. I hope that makes sense.

Or you could talk about how YOU have dated trans people and see where that leads. Like “yeah I dated a trans guy once it was great” and they maybe say something idk.

I hope something like that helps and as always if anyone else has any advice I’m open to them dropping it.

[howtosingit]

TK Strand & Carlos Reyes  1x02 | 2x12

[shurisneakers]

harmless (xiii)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader)

Warnings: cursing, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, smidge of angst, guns, little bit of violence, obnoxious flirting, and kidnapping lol

Word count: 6.2k

A/N: welcome to chaos week >:) this is the first of three updates coming out this week (if i can finish the last one in time).  big thank you to my love @no-shit-sherl0ck for the kidnaped!reader idea, and that one anon who suggested the inator that’s used here. i know you wanted to see it in a zoo but i couldn’t really figure out a way to use that so i referenced it a bunch in previous chapters. oh and also @ginevranights​ for this specific imagery 

Previous Part  || Series Masterlist

Who the fuck kidnaps a villain in this day and age?

Saturday started normally enough.

Nat kicked Bucky’s ass in training, evening the score to 120 and 120. He blames it on the lack of sleep. She tells him that it’s his fault he stayed up late to binge watch 911 Lone Star.

He still thinks it was worth it.

The team’s sunshines and rainbows that morning. Someone had cooked up a batch of pancakes and fresh orange juice. Someone else burnt the bacon but left to feed his dog before anyone could complain.

Nat opened up the newspaper. Different sections went to different people until Bucky got stuck with the entertainment section. Fun, considering that he doesn’t even recognise half the names. He’d have to pretend to be interested until the next rotation.

He watches the orange juice levitate in front of him from the corner of his eye and just assumes that Wanda’s getting a refill even though she could have just asked him to pass it. He smells the next batch of bacon burning and figures that Clint is back.

Sam’s beside him, annoying him about how long it takes for him to read about which new celebrity relationship just ended and Bucky retaliates by reading even slower. Fuck you.

He’s on his second stack of pancakes absolutely drenched in maple syrup when the doors to the elevator open and Marie steps out, laptop in her hand.

An instant chorus of hello’s and invitations to have some charred bacon resound through the table. She politely declines them with a small smile, instead opening her laptop and placing it in front of Bucky without further ado. 

He looks at her questioningly, slowly swallowing whatever was in his mouth.

“An email for you.” She tuts her head towards it. “It has a video attachment of your friend.”

Bucky has plans to not watch the video in front of everyone, given that the content could range anywhere from you reading out fanfiction about him to a deep-fake of him singing a Whitney Houston song.

Both of which you have done before and would do again, without any hesitation.

“Aren’t you gonna watch it?” Wanda asks from across the table.

He slowly shakes his head no, cutting his stack into smaller pieces.

“If what’s in it is real, it’s important,” Marie stresses.

“What’s in it?” he inquires instead, hoping that the team would stop staring at him. If Marie was implying strongly that he needed to watch then something was wrong.

“Just watch it, man.” Sam’s statement has everyone agreeing with him. Bucky can’t refuse now, and if the team makes fun of him for the next month about how he looks good belting Greatest Love of All, he’s going to personally assassinate you.

He clicks on the email, noticing it came from a throwaway address. Probably untraceable, if the cards are played right. 

The video opens to grainy footage, which is stupid considering modern technological advancements. If this is one more of your stupid LARPing sessions, it could definitely wait till after lunch. 

But, he instantly recognises your silhouette strapped to a chair and suddenly the room feels very cold around him. His hand automatically clutches onto a bead from the bracelet you gave him that still remained tied to his left arm more often than not.

“Speak,” someone commands off camera.

“About what?” You sound annoyed, exasperated even.

“Why you’re here.”

“I’m here because you have unaddressed feelings of childhood insecurity.”

“I warned you to take this seriously.”

Bucky’s eyes widen slightly but his body relaxes the minute he reads the situation. 

The team’s crowded around him, he can feel it. His attention remains on the screen in front of him.

“Who even are you sending this to?” You don’t sound the least bit threatened. “My roommate’s not at home but my cat is and I don’t think she’d care.”

”You’ve made a complete joke out of villains everywhere. Fraternising with the enemies, the Avengers,” he spits the name with so much vitriol. “You’ve erased what it’s like to be truly evil. Turned us into a laughing stock.”

“If it takes one person to undermine your whole movement then maybe it wasn’t strong enough to begin with.” You look at someone outside the lens, face scrunching in distaste. “Also your costume’s ugly.”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., can you trace this voice?” Bucky asks, receiving an immediate confirmation. “Figure out who it is.”

“On it.”

“Tell them. Tell them we are a serious threat and are to be feared.”

"No,” you say resolutely. “You’re an overgrown manchild. Go watch Teletubbies or something.”

“She does not give a shit,” Clint marvels at the situation, a piece of half eaten burnt toast between his fingers.

You didn’t. And if he knew you in the slightest, which he prided himself on at this point, you already had six different ways of getting out of there.

“She knows she’s going to be fine,” Bucky murmurs, returning back to take a bite of his pancakes. “She’s probably still there just to irritate him.”

He zeroes in on your wrist to see if the teleportation watch was still there but no, your wrists are bare. Guess you forgot.

“You have to.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s how a real villain does it.”

“A real villain- what are you, gatekeeping the villain community?” You scoff. “You sound like a fuckin’ incel.”

“Just send them a message,” the guy bellows, hitting a table.

“She’s going to frustrate them to death.” An accurate observation, Sam.

“Okay, jeez, fine.”

Bucky just knows that you rolled your eyes at that moment.

He had faith in you, or in your abilities at the very least. While every wisecrack could possibly inch you closer towards harm, you probably wouldn’t be making them unless you felt completely secure in your situation.

“Help, I’m totally kidnapped and in danger. Save me because I can’t do it myself. This man is too powerful and strong and sooo scary.”

“Do you think she has a strategy?”

“Definitely.”

“You’re not worried, James?” Wanda asks curiously. “I thought she was your friend.”

“She is my friend.” He reaches over to take the jug of orange from across the table. “That’s why I’m not worried.”

“Are you going to fight the Avengers?” you interrupt his endless tirade. “Because that’s a stupid plan. You get how that’s a stupid plan, right?”

“Let them come. I’m prepared.”

“With what? A stick you found outside? A Nerf gun? Man, you’ve tied my hands with fuckin’ zip ties, you can’t be serious-”

“Shut up,” he roared and the stand shakes slightly from where he stamps his feet. “Our army is enough.”

“Wow,” you exhale. “I wish I had your confidence, I really do. I want to study you under a microscope.”

“I have reinforcements.” It sounds like he turns to the camera to address it directly. “This is a warning. Your friends have an hour to find you or things are gonna turn ugly. This is what real evil looks like.”

“Evil dresses in a dollar store Speedo, apparently.” The man pays you no heed, instead picking up the camera. “Hey, sarge, if you’re watching this, don’t bother. I’m fine, it’s not even the real me-”

The camera cuts to black.

“When was this video sent?” Nat looks at Marie, eyebrows drawn together.

“About ten minutes ago.”

Bucky clicks out of the email, determined to get at least half his breakfast in him before he left to see what’s up with your situation. A notification pops up immediately.

evilkneival123@gmail.com just sent you an email.

A video attachment.

“We got another one,” Bucky informs the team, drawing their attention back to the screen from the informal conversation that had erupted between them about what they could do.

This time, there’s a subject line included.

Attack on the Clone.

"Ain’t that a Star Wars movie?" he asks, craning his neck to look at Clint.

"That's Attack of the Clones," Sam corrects. "Probably autocorrect."

Bucky narrowed his eyes in suspicion at him, jaw sliding outward before falling back into place. Enough times had Sam called him Fucky in the group chat and gotten away with it for him not to be wary.

“Or a code,” Wanda suggests, too many crime thrillers read and podcasts listened in her spare time. She occasionally brought them over to Self Care Saturday, introducing him to the world of true crime as a bit of light content while they snacked on chocolate chip cookies he baked. “Like the Zodiac.”

“For what?” Bucky peers over at her.

“All I remember from that movie is them rolling around a field together,” Clint mutters. “Maybe that’s how you’re supposed to save her.”

“I’m not saving anyone. Look at her, she’s fine.” Is he the only one who saw it?

When he’s met with skeptical looks and no other useful suggestions, he presses play on the video.

This time it's clearer footage. It hardly takes him a second to ascertain where it was.

"That's her lair." It showed the pathway leading up to the flat concrete building, exactly where the intercom should be.

There was a black Sedan parked haphazardly outside, engine still on judging by the sound of the radio blasting an AC/DC song. 

Within a few seconds, someone drags you from the entrance of the lair to the car, despite your very clear protests and opposition, shoving you inside before it takes off in full speed, tires screeching. 

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., track the car from that video. Check all the CCTV and surveillance footage from around the area that you can find," Bucky commands, taking a sip of orange juice.  

"Why would they send us that?" Clint pipes up. "They make their email untraceable but send us a video of the fuckin' abduction itself?"

"I don't know." Bucky shakes his head, setting his glass down. "She probably convinced them to."

It was an unusual scenario, he realised that. But his eyebrows lower in contemplation, his lip caged between his lip before a thought suddenly occurs to him. A laugh in disbelief almost escapes his throat ad he pushes it down with some freshly cut strawberries. 

"And they listened?"

"I don't think you realise how annoying she can be." He knows, though. He knows. "Bet they regret it, though. I should tell them to keep her for a little longer."

"Voice recognition registers voice to someone named Chad, better known by his alias Soul Crusher. Surveillance footage places the car about thirty minutes away. Exact location sent to your phone GPS."

Soul Crusher. That was worse than Dr. Strange.

"I can make that fifteen." Bucky shrugs, setting down his fork and knife. If his hunch is right, the team didn’t really have to get involved. “See you guys later.”

“Do you want any of us coming with you?” Wanda gestures to the crowd at hand.

“I got it.” He pushes away from the table, depositing his plate in the sink, dropping an extra piece of bacon on the ground for Clint’s dog. “She’ll be alright.”

They watch him trail out of the room briskly, heading up to his room to change.

“Is it just me or is he too casual about this?” Clint continues staring long after he leaves.

“Both of them are weirdos.” Nat pulls open the newspaper again, going back to the sport’s section. “Who knows what goes in their heads.”

“Can confirm that not a lot goes on in his.”

Without Bucky to retaliate or grumble, a Steve walking into the room, sweaty and shiny after training becomes the new subject of jokes that morning.

__

For the first time in months, he’s had to bring a weapon or two along with him. Two revolvers and a couple of knives kept out of plain view. He wouldn’t need more than that anyway.

True to his word, it takes only fifteen minutes to get there, thirteen if he didn’t stop for the chain of ducks that crossed the street.

He’s also dressed in a little more leather than he usually reserves for your meetings. A jacket that brings to act as a windbreaker and tightly laced up combat boots make him look like he either stepped off a runway, or more menacing than usual depending on who was looking.

The GPS points him to an old warehouse near a more subdued part of the city. It was abandoned by the looks of it, and had been for a while judging by the lack of upkeep. Prime real estate.

He pulls off his helmet, hanging it on the handlebar along with his backpack before kicking the stand into place. The bike’s a few metres away just in case they decide to blow something up.

Bucky looks up at the warehouse, assessing the most damage he could do to it if at all it was needed. That thing could barely stand on its own, a grenade would absolutely decimate it. That wasn’t good news for you.

He sighs once before putting on his death glare, straightening out his shoulders into a stature that screams stone-cold, and pushes the door open, gun raised.

A mini-army of people ranging from their early twenties to late thirties stood guard at the entrance, all with rifles pointed at him. He counts fifteen, maybe eighteen.

“Oh, hell no,” a voice erupts from the back, followed by the sound of his gun being thrown to the ground. “No one told me that he was coming.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, his death glare not shifting and Glock not lowering.

“I’m out.” The same guy raises his hands up to show he meant no harm, slowly brushing past Bucky as he squeezed out of the building.

“You got five seconds to leave before I shut this door,” Bucky gives the rest of them an ultimatum. Not like there was a point anyway. SHIELD was sending down some people to account for the one day rise in new morons. 

They all looked at each other, swallowing thickly before raising their weapons.

“I hope he’s giving you good insurance.” The second he finishes his sentence they all cry out in what sounds like a fucking war chant, launching themselves at him. 

______

“They’re here.” Someone presses his ear to the door as if the gunshots and screaming weren’t enough. 

“Brilliant. We’re ready.” Chad picks up the knife, running his finger along the sharp end. You try to see if you can use your Twitter-ordained powers of manifestation for a paper cut.

“How much are you asking them for?” You put forth a query instead, when it disappointingly doesn’t work.

“Asking who for what?” Chad stops his dumb intimidation tactic for a second. 

“You know,” you insist like it was obvious, “my ransom. How much did you ask them to pay?”

“We didn’t-” He looks around at the other people in the room for confirmation. “-we didn’t ask for any.”

“Because I’m invaluable?” Your head droops to the side in mock flattery. “Aw, you guys.”

“We didn’t think of it,” someone from the corner behind you speaks up, coming to the aid of their boss.

“Now that’s just rude.” You tut, shifting maybe an inch or two in your bounds to try and get more comfortable. “Leaving aside your lack of preparation, let’s just assume he bursts in here, desperate and ready to bargain. How much would you ask for?”

“Three million,” Chad says confidently, gathering a nod and sounds of agreement from everyone else.

“Are you serious?” Your jaw drops, a scoff escaping you. “That’s all?”

His self-assurance falters a little bit, you can see it under his 5 Minutes Craft mask.

“Three mill-” You stop mid-sentence. “With this wiring? Ridiculous. Make it ten, I demand it.”

“We’ll ask for fifteen mil,” Chad proposes, his teammates agreeing again, a little more delighted than last time.

“Ask for thirty, you coward,” you argued. “Thirty million and a jet.”

“You’re not worth that much.” The dipshit diagonal to you pipes up with his unwanted and, frankly, useless opinion.

“And you are?” You whip around the best you can. “Henchman number four?”

“Megedagik,” he informs, standing up a little taller now that he was given some importance. “It means ‘killer of many’.”

“Did you just say your name was Mega Dick?” 

“Megedagik,” he corrects.

You stare at him hard before turning away. “Alright, other than Mega Dick here, does anyo-”

A knife lands right next to your feet, driven at least an inch into the ground. You look up at the guy you managed to piss off within four sentences, his face now a beet red. 

“These are brand new, asshole,” you barked, shaking your shoes around. “You’re gonna pay if there’s even a scratch on it.”

“Permission to kill her?” Meg growls, casting a side eye at Chad.

The boss man looks at you thoughtfully, assessing the repercussions of what might happen. You raise an eyebrow.

“Slow and painful,” he settles. 

A small smirk makes its way onto your face. 

“Title of your sex tape,” you quip as the man in the corner storms towards you.

_____

It’s all a flurry, really. A bunch of inexperienced newcomers versus one of the most skilled assassins the world had ever seen? Ten minutes tops.

Bucky doesn’t do any serious damage. A couple of broken bones but only out of necessity, a lot of concussions, and maybe a bullet wound, or three, here and there. 

Most of the time he spends thinking about things that have absolutely nothing to do with what was going on. He forgot to take his laundry out of the machine. There was a biscotti recipe he had been procrastinating on trying. His succulents needed watering but he could do that once he was back. Was he wearing his good combat pants or was it the pair that had a hole in the pocket?

His left hand thrust outwards to shove someone away while he stuck his right hand into his pocket to check if it had frayed away. The person he pushed slams into a wall with a loud groan and no, his pants didn’t have a hole in them. 

He stops to take a breather, assess what was going on. There are bodies scattered all around, mostly writhing in pain from minor injuries. Someone very bravely stands up, hands posed in front of him in a regular fighting stance.

“You sure about this?” Bucky asks, reaching for one of the concealed knives he hadn’t had a chance of using yet. It twirls rather nimbly between his fingers for something so dangerous, the hilt finally landing in his palm for a sturdy grip.

The man takes one look at the knife before sitting right back down on the ground. 

“Good choice,” his voice drops to an octave lower than his self-esteem. He’s tired of this old routine but it works like a neat little party trick, often getting him the result he wanted. “Where?”

A few fingers point down the hall to the only room whose door was closed.

He makes sure to step over everyone who was lying along the way, ears tuned in to even the smallest of noises just in case one of them decided to attack him from the back. It doesn’t come.

He doesn’t bother creeping down the hallway. With all the ruckus that just went on outside, he’s pretty sure it’s obvious that they had an intruder. 

Bucky kicks in the large steel door with ease, given that it was barely hanging on its hinges. His gun’s raised, muscles tight, and senses on high alert for any immediate threats. 

It lands with a large thud, reverberating through the room. He’s reminded of your first meeting with him.

There’s a chair in the middle of the room with a person tied to it by a mixture of rope and tape. Others found themselves slithering around on the floor in a similar fashion, trying to get out of their bondages.

“Hey, James,” you call out, drawing his attention to you. You were sitting atop a table, legs swinging back and forth without a care in the world, a blade in your hand. 

“You okay?” He tucks the gun into his waistband when he realises that none of the henchmen are going to be going anywhere soon.

“All good.” You hop off the table with a little spring in your step. “Did you bring your bike? I need a ride back to the lair. I think I left the TV on when I was, you know, getting kidnapped.”

“You coulda teleported back home before all of this even happened.” Bucky does a quick assessment of your body to make sure there weren’t any bruises or anything of the sort. “Avoided the whole thing.”

“Don’t have the watch with me.” Odd, since he knows you consider it one of your essentials but it just fuels his theory further. “Besides, if I just quit before we started, they’d keep messing with me over and over again.”

“Do you want me to punch someone’s face in?” He glances around the room at the ones wiggling about on the floor like fucking worms. “I’d be happy to.”

“Nah, I got a few in myself.” You rotate your wrist, other hand still holding onto the knife. “You know what, maybe I’ll have another go.”

He simply makes a noise in acknowledgement before he places a hand on the hem of your shirt, gently reeling you back. “I think you fixed ‘em up real good. That’s enough for today.”

“Fine but only ‘cause you said so.” You huff, looking past him and at the weirdos on the ground. “You hear that? This man just saved your life. Say ‘thank you’.”

A muffled chorus of what sounded like appreciation echoed through the room. Bucky awkwardly looks around.

“Damn right.” You walk over to the guy in charge of the whole event, bending down to his level. “If you ever try to fuck with us again...”

You stare straight into his eyes, unblinking. You hold up the knife to his Adam’s apple. Chad doesn’t dare to move other than the thick swallow.

You raise your finger and flick him in the forehead. “Get a better costume.”

The corner of Bucky’s lip quirks upward.

“Let’s go, sarge,” you announce, standing upright again and making a motion to follow you. “D’you have an extra helmet I could use?”

“Yeah.” He had brought one along in his bag, assuming that you’d need one once he noticed the watch was missing in the footage.  

“Yay.”

The only storage space on his bike was under his seat and it’s just enough for an extra revolver. Clint asked him if it was his way of flirting with someone, give ‘em a quick spin around the city and then show them his gun. If looks could kill, Clint would be 7 feet under. 

“You sure you wanna ride it, though?” He cringes immediately when he realises what it sounds like, waiting for you to smack the innuendo in his face. “We could wait for SHIELD.”

“Don’t really have another choice, Bucky,” you say absentmindedly, strolling out the room as you tossed the knife behind you.

He frowns at your indifference but turns around for a second to look at Chad. The man in question looks back viciously, his grandeur from that morning basically deflated and left to die along with his reputation.

“Might wanna reconsider the name,” Bucky remarks, doing a quick sweep of the area once more. “Soul Crusher.”

He waits until both of you are outside the cell and the door is shut on the ringleader and his circus clowns, handlebar twisted out of place so that they don’t escape for the time being.

“One second,” he calls, touch gently lingering on your forearm to stop you without even thinking twice about it. A famously uncharacteristic move for him.

"Hm?” You don’t even look like you notice his action.

“You sure you’re good?” he asks seriously, actual concern slipping through the question. “Do you need medical assistance?”

“They couldn’t hurt me anyway.” There’s something strange about the way you say it, almost assuredly. “I’m good.”

“Okay,” he concedes, his hand darting back when he realises it was still on your arm. His eyebrows furrow when he realises how instinctively he had reached out in the first place.  He didn’t touch anyone, ever.

“What are we gonna do about them?” you inquire, stepping over someone on the floor to get to the exit.

“Marie told Agent Hill. They’re sending someone over.”

“They’re sending SHIELD for these wannabes?” Someone groans in protest from somewhere and you elect to ignore them. “Ew.”

“Just to make sure confidential information isn’t compromised in any way.” There’s a large bang that comes from the room they just left. Maybe one of them shot their teammate by accident. They were more than capable of doing it.

“I would never,” you exacted a little more solemnly, pushing the door open with your elbow to let the sunlight flood in.

“I know.” He doesn’t realise how dark it was in the warehouse until he steps out into the noon sun. “I’m pretty sure this is more about the fact that you were abducted.”

“For me?” The smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes the way he kinda likes. Something definitely felt off. “I love being class favourite.”

He doesn’t reply, a small grunt as he twists the handle of the warehouse door upwards, effectively jamming it. 

“Can I drive?” You bat your eyelashes at him innocently, disregarding the loud screaming that came from inside as those less injured probably regrouped for a last ditch attempt. 

“No,” he doesn’t hesitate in replying, handing you a helmet and buckling his own securely.

“But I just got kidnapped,” you complained, watching him swing a leg over the bike and straddle it. Okay then. 

“All the more reason for you not to drive right now.” He mentions for you to get on, squinting at the warehouse a few feet away.

“Fine, but next time I’m driving,” you grumble, climbing on the back.

“Do you even know how to?” His head is tilted to look at you from the corner of his eye, voice heavier on account of the obstruction on his face.

The door starts shaking violently and he knows for a fact that it won’t hold up for much longer. Some of those who he had knocked out probably had been shaken awake again for manpower. 

“I can learn.” You take a pause, mischief seeping into your next words. “You can teach me.”

“No.” He didn’t exactly practice what was considered safe, law abiding driving. He just got from one point to another and that’s all he cared about.

“Then I’ll do it myself.” You sound determined. “I’m going to leave a note for us in the lair.”

“You do that.” He revs the engine when something solid hits the metal door. As guessed, their usage of props to push it down faster was coming into play. “Now, can you hold on to something? We need to go.”

If only those idiots just realised that the windows covered by newspapers were right there, ready to be broken.

“Only if you promise to let me drive next time,” you say defiantly, drawing this whole ordeal out.

“Whatever,” he urges. “I promise. Now can we go?”

“Wait for it...” There’s a devilish smile on your face. “One.”

There’s a loud creak as the door finally gives way.

“Two.” The same people you left tied up in the room burst out, almost stumbling over each other in the process.

“Three,” he completes it on his own, not waiting for you to finish because God knows how long you’d stretch it out just for the drama.

Your excited screech of laughter as he narrowly misses a rod that gets thrown at him like a fucking javelin temporarily distracts him from the brain freeze he gets when your arms wind around his waist to hold yourself in place. 

There’s angry screaming and bullets that whiz past in an attempt to get him to stop but a swift turn around a corner, pulling the both of you out of their sight is enough to get rid of them. 

“We should get a few weapons and go back,” you yell over the wind rushing by, barely audible.

“You do that in your own free time,” he shouts in response, yanking you through narrower lanes and less popular streets.

“Maybe I will, you bore.” 

Still, you shut up for the rest of the ride, only grumbling when he stops the bike to tell you that no, you cannot let go just because you want to throw your hands in the air like in the movies.

You hop off when he finally pulls up on the street outside your lair, adrenaline still pumping through your veins. He waits patiently as you unbuckle the helmet, switching off the engine. 

“You gonna drop me off at my door too, now?” You snicker, fingers pulling off the helmet.

He looks at you for a second before dropping the kickstand into place and dismounting from the motorcycle.

“I was kidding.” You laugh, handing him your headgear that he shoves into his backpack. 

“You’re pretty capable of gettin’ abducted along the way.” An absurd notion, considering it’s a short path from the road to the door. 

“Oh, how chivalrous.” You let him tag along anyway, for his peace of mind. 

“My ma didn’t expect any less.” A couple of sharp lessons from Winifred Barnes and Bucky was nothing short of a damn angel. 

You knock on the door three times, crossing your arms over your chest as you waited. 

“Aren’t you the one with the key?” Bucky questions, one hand on his waist. 

The door swung open in the middle of his sentence revealing... you.

Another you.

“Nah, she has it.” Ex-Kidnapped-You raises your head in acknowledgement at Doorway-You.

“Ah.” He fucking knew it. An unnatural sense of smugness blossoms in his chest. 

“Hey,” the both of you said at the same time.

Doorway-You looked way more relaxed, a little less grimy and dishevelled but exactly the same.

“Buck, I see you met my other half,” the you from the doorway greets him. “Or other whole, actually.”

“Sure did.” He sends a glance at Ex-Kidnapped-You.

“You can go on in. Big first day, huh?” Doorway-You refers to the you beside him.

“You wouldn’t believe,” Ex-Kidnaped-You mutters, pushing past the entrance and disappearing inside.

“She gonna be okay?” His gaze trails after your clone.

“Oh yeah, just needs to recharge.” You turn around to make sure she’s fine. “She’s made of some pretty strong carbon, technically almost indestructible.”

No wonder ‘you’ said they couldn’t hurt you.

“Heya, sarge.” You draw his attention back to you. “Always good to see you.”

“Can’t really say the same about you.” 

“Ever the emotional repressor, Mr Barnes. I like this little leather show you got going, did ya wear it just for me?”

He shifts his balance to his other foot, feet slightly wide apart. “Take it that the clone machine finally worked?”

“I was in the middle of celebrating.” You sigh, recalling the events of that morning. “Teleported home for a second to get some champagne and when I came back she was gone.”

“Irresponsible.” He tsks, head shaking in disappointment. 

“Sorry I didn’t take amateur kidnappers into account for my risk factor analysis, Bucky,” you shoot back, pressing on his name for added annoyance. “Anyway, I did the responsible thing. I sent all the evidence I had to you guys.”

“Real clever.” Bucky looks at you in dry amusement. “Attack on the clone? Really?”

“Hey, always make time for a good pun.” You finger gun, lopsided grin on your face. “Did the team like it?”

“They thought it was a typo.” Or a code. He really had Wanda to thank for his big revelation. “Your video didn’t help either.”

“Don’t tell me they couldn’t make out it was me.” You laugh, crossing your arms over your chest.

He doesn’t reply, pursing his lip inwards in sympathy, but more so to conceal a smile.

The happiness drops from your face slowly, horror taking its place. “Don’t tell me they couldn’t make out it was me.”

“Good job, your machine worked,” he adds helpfully.

“C’mon, there were so many differences,” you whine, the success of your endeavour the last thing on your mind. 

“That is your literal clone,” he points out, only to see you- clone you- walk into the giant box in the corner of the room, bright green light emanating from it like a xerox machine.

“How could they not tell the original apart from a copy?” You look genuinely offended. Insane. “Not even Sam?”

“Guess you’re not unique enough.” A rise and fall of his shoulders signify his attitude towards this whole thing. “Think I like your copy better, too, actually.”

“You’re so mean.” You puff in disbelief. “I’m a 100% original. How many mad scientist teachers do you know?”

“Two.” 

“I don’t mean now, that’s not even the-” You poke at his rock hard chest. “You are so much more annoying than when I first met you.”

He thinks it’s good relationship development.

“I have to deal with you every weekend.” He watches your finger drop from his chest. “Picked it up along the way.”

“Boo hoo, talking like you don’t have deep, deep feelings for me.” You roll your eyes. “I see right through you, Bucky Barnes.”

“Can you see the part that couldn’t give less of a shit?” He gestures to himself. “It’s all of it.”

“You think you’re such a comedian, huh?” You narrow your eyebrows. “How did you know she was a fake then, huh?”

Busted.

“Probably ‘cause you didn’t talk as much today,” he dodges. “Actually had some peace of mind for a change.”

“You knew before you got there, you liar.” You push past his fabrications. “You figured it out before everyone else.”

“You literally put it in the title.”

“Yeah, but the rest of the team saw it too.”

“Rest of the team didn’t know you were building a goddamn clone machine for months.”

“You remembered that?” You pulled away, palm over your heart. “Oh, sarge, you paid attention to me.”

His nose twitches.

“You said it, like, eight hundred times.” He could use both his hands to count the number of references you had offhandedly made in the last three weeks alone.

“Why'd you go save me when you knew it wasn't real?” you continue to challenge relentlessly, knowing fully well that he was fibbing. 

“Because you fuckin’ peer pressured me. Had the whole team around me when you sent your little video during breakfast.”

“Just admit it,” you coo, ignoring all his justifications. “You noticed it was fake me right away but showed up anyway because you’re wildly in love with me.”

“No,” he says stiffly. 

“No as in you won’t admit it you have a crush on me, or no as in you didn’t know it was fake me?”

There was no winning this. 

“Good day to you.” He pulls the motorcycle helmet on to hide the expression that plain as day screamed the former of your two options.

“Also,” you bring up indignantly, “she even got to ride the fucking bike and I’ve been asking to drive it for months now!”

“We-” he chooses his words carefully. “-compromised.”

“Oh, you did?” Your voice lowers at the newfound information, interest piqued. “I’m gonna hold you to that then, whatever it is.”

“Doesn’t count.”

“Absolutely does,” you huff. “A promise is legally binding. Blue’s Clues taught me that.”

“Bye, Y/N.”

“You’re my knight in leathery armour,” you swoon, switching sides immediately, “Kinda.”

“See you next week,” he says in farewell, determined to leave before you made it worse. “Try not to get killed by then.”

“Why, so you can do it yourself? Protective much?” You pull him back when he starts walking away, laughing slightly. “Wait a second, you weirdo.”

He sighs, staying put anyway, arms crossed impatiently over his chest.

You pull out the pen tucked behind your ear and slowly tap him twice on each shoulder in a makeshift knighting ceremony. “For your sacrifice.”

He rolls his eyes at the ludicrousness, tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth.

You ignore his lack of enthusiasm, pressing your fingertips to your lips in a small kiss and then to his nose, given that it was the only part of his face you had access to.

“That was for your bravery.” You grin brightly at him and he sure as hell is glad he’s wearing the stupid helmet because he can feel his cheeks light up a bright crimson.

“Thanks.” His voice sounds gruffer than a second ago. He clears his throat.

“Now you’re my knight in leathery armour,” you fawn, nearly falling over yourself dramatically. “Let’s ride into the sunset together. I love you.”

“You’re ridiculous,” he calls out over his shoulder, turning away to return to his bike. “I despise you.”

“But you don’t.”

He really didn’t.

also i managed to fuck my phone up really bad so all proceeds from my ko-fi go towards getting it fixed

Next part

[lonestardaily]

Each week Lone Star Daily looks to provide you with a decent (not comprehensive) list of the fanfics that have been posted for the week. The week runs from Friday - Thursday, as that way it does give us an opportunity to put the list together. There’s no requirement to tag us as we will check the tags #911 lone star fic and #911lsfic while also combing through ao3. We currently are only going to post new fics, not updates. You can check out this week’s fics below the cut.

Please feel free to give this post a boost to give our writers a chance to receive some love for the work they do for the fandom.

(if your fic is not tagged with a tumblr, it’s because we couldn’t find one - feel free to send us a message and we’ll be happy to add one)

TARLOS FICS

Among My Stillness Was a Pounding Heart by @tailoredshirt​​

↳  (TK x Carlos | Proposal Fic | T | 3958)

TK took a deep breath. “I think we need to talk about what happened last fall. With the loft.”

Carlos’s brain was skipping around from one feeling to the next like a pinball. “With…when we broke up?”

“Yeah.”

“You…want to talk about the breakup,” Carlos said slowly. “While I’m proposing to you.”

TK squeezed his hands. “Yes. Please.”

What is time but the relentless passage to the inevitable by @sapphire11​

↳  (Andrea x TK, TK x Carlos | Hurt/Comfort | T | 8084)

They were finally in a great place and they thought they had all the time in the world for which they were planning amazing things. What happens when TK gets a phone call that causes time to speed up at the same time as it potentially stops? TK has to lean on his family in order to get through the devastating situation until time begins to move normally again. If it ever begins normally again, TK swears he’ll never waste another second.

Set about 3 years into the future from near the end of Season 3.

Forever In Your Eyes by @chaotictarlos​​

↳  (TK x Carlos | Hurt/Comfort | M | 2312)

Carlos gets hurt and TK learns what it’s like to be on the other side of the bed.

you’re tethered to another (and you’re worried all the time) by @doublel27​​

↳  (TK x Carlos, TK x daughter, Carlos x Daughter | Future Kid Fic | T | 6307 )

Raising a teenager was never going to easy, but it can feel infinitely harder when your child's present bumps up against the past.

I Don't Want To Live Life Without You by @introverted-explorer​​

↳  (TK x Carlos | Spec Fic | T | 920 )

“I can’t lose him too,” TK all but whispered, voice hoarse with disuse. Carlos isn’t even entirely sure he had said anything until he looked over at TK’s strained expression.

Gwyn’s death had hit him hard, but losing a man he so clearly saw as a part of his life, for the rest of it, was something surely to be downright painful. If not for himself, for his partner, and the future they were so sure they would have. “I know, baby. He -”

“No.” TK cuts him off, looking directly into his eyes. Carlos can feel the anxiety and grief in his core. “You don’t get it, Carlos. If he dies, I have no one.”

Then love knew it was called love by @tailoredshirt​​

↳  (TK x Carlos | Fluff | G | 1137)

After being away for two weeks, Carlos comes home to TK.

More than a little stomach flu by @sapphire11​

↳  (TK x Carlos | Hurt/Comfort | G | 4304)

Carlos thinks he's caught the stomach bug that's spreading throughout the first responder community. Only it's something much more serious.

Save a Horse by @chicgeekgirl89​​

↳  (TK x Carlos | Domestic Fluff | T | 3096)

T.K. heads out to the ranch for the weekend and gets to see a whole new side of Carlos.

Words by @ravens-words​​

↳  (TK x Carlos, TK x Gwyn | Fluff and Angst | T | 964)

Tarlos in NY when Gwyn gives birth.

Blood on the tracks, fire in the hills by thenorthface

↳  (TK x Carlos, Carlos x OG Character | Breaking Up & Making Up | M | 11356)

Fifteen months after they broke up, Carlos and T.K. are thrown together again at the scene of a murder

Silhouettes with no regrets by @bluenet13​​

↳  (TK x Carlos | Domestic Fluff | T | 2121)

TK and Carlos + watching Heartstopper = Lots of feelings, emotional conversations, and other fun times on the couch.

you’ve got to be kitten me! by percvjackson

↳  (TK x Carlos | Domestic Fluff | T | 1043 )

tk and carlos got a cat, but the cat doesn't seem very fond of one of it's owners

code seven by falloutmars

↳  (TK x Carlos, Carlos x 126 | Coda | T | 1373)

It’s a slow and boring shift when the text comes in, and Carlos is grateful for that, both for the text and the way it interrupts his already long day. Oftentimes, he’ll be in the middle of some important paperwork when he gets texts like this and has to decline, or, worse, at a scene and only able to ignore his phone until it’s too late to head over. On those days, he just hopes TK packs him some leftovers.

But today, Carlos is lucky. A slow crime day is always good and safer—despite it being boring—but it’s even better when your boyfriend texts inviting you over to investigate a code seven.

don’t go blindly into the dark by @kiras-sunshine​​

↳  (TK x Carlos | AU | T |  68587)

TK never thought that one of the most urgent problems in his life would be finding a good pediatrician out of Austin, Texas. To be fair, he never thought he would be a single parent and living in Austin, and that he would buy a small house just out of city center, but life has a funny way of keeping surprising him in the most unexpected of moments.

126 FICS

fun and games (and friendly discussions) by falloutmars

↳  (Nancy x Mateo, TK x Carlos | Coda | T | 2717)

the gang discuss the news of Nancy and Mateo's relationship.

CHARACTER FICS / OTHER PAIRINGS

The Stain You Can’t Wash Out by @marjansmarwani​​

↳  (Owen, Owen x TK | Coda | N/R | 4752)

In Owen’s experience, guilt went hand in hand with grief. — An(other) Owen character study that wouldn’t leave me alone after 3x16

[datleggy]

another alternate ending for 911 fox/lone star crossover because... *spoilers*

“Makin’ friends, huh?” Eddie leers at TK’s retreating back and then turns his gaze towards Buck, who lets out a flustered huff. 

“It’s not like that.” he insists. 

Hen rounds the corner then and tilts her head curiously. “Not like what? What’s going on?” she looks at Eddie. “We teasing Buck again?” she jokes. 

Eddie smirks cheekily. “I walked in on the end of a conversation between that firefighter from the 126 giving Buck the ‘I’ve got a boyfriend’ line.” 

Hen chuckles. “Oof, ouch Buck. The sting of rejection.” she puts a hand up to her heart dramatically, making Eddie laugh. 

Buck rolls his eyes, “He misunderstood--I wasn’t flirting or anything, I was just being nice.” 

“Good,” Hen claps him on the shoulder, “Cause he’s got a boyfriend, Buckaroo.” 

Eddie bumps their shoulders together good naturedly as he passes him to jump up on the rig and then offers him a hand up when it’s his turn. “Thanks.” Buck mutters, once he’s inside, already strapping himself into his seat while Hen starts the engine.

El Paso isn’t too far from where they are, currently. As excited as Eddie is to see his parents and get a nice good meal in him after the long past couple of days he’s had, a little of that excitement tapers off when he notices how quiet Buck is, on their way there. 

“Hey,” Eddie taps him on the knee lightly, startling the younger man from whatever thoughts he’s been entranced with for the past few minutes. 

Buck looks up at him. 

“You ok?” 

Buck starts to say he’s fine but somewhere in the back of his head he can hear Dr. Copeland telling him there’s no reason to hide, no reason not to let out what he’s feeling, especially in the moment. “I don’t...know?” he shrugs. 

Eddie blinks, surprised by the answer, and leans forward. “What’s wrong? Did you get hurt?” he’s already reaching for Buck, to check for anything he might’ve missed before, but Buck holds up his hands in front of him and backs away an inch. 

“No, no, I’m ok,” he insists, “It’s not anything like that. It’s just...about TK, and uh, what he said?” 

Eddie frowns, “Buck, you know we were just kidding, right? I didn’t mean to upset you if--” 

Buck shakes his head and blurts out, “I’m bi.” and then snaps his mouth shut like a bear trap. 

“What. I--” Eddie pauses, “Shit, Buck, I’m sorry, I didn’t know--” 

“It’s not a big deal,” Buck plows on, not looking directly at Eddie. “I’m just tired of hiding it, that’s all. And, I mean, you’re my best friend, so I just thought you should know. This um, this doesn’t have to change anything, right? It just felt weird not telling anyone, like it was some big shameful secret or something.” 

“No, yeah, no, of course it doesn’t change anything, no.” Eddie assures him clumsily. “Buck, I’m--thank you, I’m glad you could confide in me.” He wants to ask why now, what brought on the sudden confession? Hell, he wants to ask a lot of things. But it’s clear Buck is done sharing for the foreseeable future, the way he’s hunched in on himself. 

A few moments of silence drag on before Eddie opens his mouth again. “So...” he purses his lips. “You were flirting with TK then?” 

Buck can’t help the huff of surprised laughter that escapes him at the abrupt question. “He’s not really my type.” 

Eddie leans forward. “What is your type?” 

Buck arches a brow. “Why? You gonna set me up?” 

Eddie hums thoughtfully, “Nah, I don’t think I hate any of my friends enough to do that to ‘em.” 

Buck shoves him playfully. “Wow. Rude.” 

As soon as they hit a red light Hen calls out from the front, “Hey, can you two stop flirting back there? It’s distracting!” 

Buck laughs and turns to Eddie to roll his eyes at Hens comment, only to be met by a red faced Eddie, who’s stuttering at Hen to shut up and focus on the road, while purposely avoiding looking Buck in the eye. 

Huh, maybe Dr. Copeland was onto something...

[alidravana]

Happy Wednesday everyone!  Updating my WIP Wednesday image to send a message to the weather around here (they are calling for snow on the weekend...we don’t need anymore).  

I have started a small series of fics for the recent season of 911 Lone Star, as filling in some missing scenes, and this is a slight branch off of it as I explore the friendship that I’m building between Pearce and Carlos (previous fic can be read here).  And there’s some Carlos whump tossed in as well, so yay!

“Hey, Carlos, what happened?” Pearce said, unable to hide the concern in his voice as he sat his bag down on the ground and crouched next to the injured man.  Carlos was sitting on the curb, his right hand tightly squeezing down on his upper left arm.  Red was quickly staining the fabric, which was definitely alarming, but what might be even more concerning was the lack of response Pearce was getting.  Carlos hadn’t even acknowledged that he, or Andy, his current partner on the 130 were there, instead staring blankly at the ground ahead of him.

Pearce indicated to his partner that he would take the lead, and shifted so that he was directly in front of Carlos.  Waving his hand slowly in front of Carlos, he was relieved to see a shift in Carlos’s attention up to his face.  “I need you to tell me what happened,” Pearce repeated, as he reached out in the direction of the injury, laying his hand carefully below where Carlos’s hand was.

At Pearce’s touch, Carlos let out a gasp, followed by a moan as he shifted to try to evade the contact.  Pearce frowned, mentally adding possible bruised ribs to the tally of injuries as well.  Now closer to the officer, he also cataloged a handful of scrapes littered across his face and hands.  

“Knife,” Carlos muttered, looking away from the wound as he let go of his arm, wincing again as Pearce rushed to secure it with a proper bandage. 

Happy Reading!

[sarcasticslothy]

The Pain of Recovery

A Post 2x08 Fic in which Carlos once again is visiting TK in a hospital bed.

911 Lone Star Angst week 2021 Day One ‘C’ for Concussion

Ao3

Carlos glances towards the stairs when he hears TK stepping down and dropping his bag next to the door with a thud. He’d heard the movement upstairs and had been hoping it wasn’t TK getting ready for work, but if the past week had taught him anything, TK was stubborn and going to do whatever he wanted. He tries to breathe through the anxiety that hasn’t seemed to ease since TK has gone back to work a week prior and looks back to the cake in front of him, his latest effort to try and distract his mind.

“Looks good” TK comments as he slides in next to him and reaches over to put his finger into the icing that Carlos has only just made perfect enough for his standards. “The icing is made for the cake, not to eat directly” Carlos replies, rolling his eyes when TK just grins in reply and proceeds to lick the icing off his finger. “Tastes good too” TK says with a laugh and then moves behind him to open the fridge “You’re going to work?” Carlos asks, keeping his voice deliberately light. “My head is fine. It was just a headache. Can we not do this again?” TK grumbles and collects the bottle of water on the table, taking a quick drink, replacing the lid before coming to lean against the counter next to Carlos. “I don’t want to fight with you, I’m just worried” TK sighs next to him before reaching over to grip his waist and pull until he complies and turns so his back is against the counter and TK can stand right in front of him. “We’re not fighting” Carlos raises his brow at him and TK lets out a laugh “Okay, maybe we’re arguing a little, but I don’t know what to do to convince you that I’m fine so you will stop worrying” Carlos reaches up to cup his boyfriend’s chin and ignores the need to soothe and comfort in favour of saying what he knows will annoy, but he can’t stop the ever present thought that there’s something wrong. “You could go see the concussion specialist” TK takes a step back and Carlos lets his hand fall to his side. “Carlos, stop” “You’ve had a headache every day this week and I know you’re lying when you say you aren’t dizzy every time I ask” “I don’t have a concussion anymore. I’ve been cleared by doctors; I’ve worked the whole week just fine. Let it go” TK snaps and Carlos really doesn’t want to constantly be at odds with him, so he just nods in reply and stays silent like he has every time this conversation has been revisited over the past week. “I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.” TK says and steps forward to give him a quick kiss on the cheek before moving across the room towards the door. “TK. Be safe” Carlos calls to him, when he has his bag over his shoulder, door open in front of him. TK looks back at him and gives him a small smile before closing the door behind him with a soft click. Carlos looks back down at the cake in front of him, noticing the stray bit of icing dripping down the side and quickly uses the knife to stop its descent and wishes everything could be so easily fixed. -------------------- Carlos wakes all too sudden as the familiar sound of his phone’s ringtone fills the room. He squints his eyes over the bedside table, groans when he sees it is only 2am and reaches across until his hand hits the solid shape of his phone and he is bringing it in front of his face blinking against the way too bright light. He manages to slide his finger across the screen and accept the call, not even giving himself the chance to see the caller before he does it. “’llo?” “Hey babe” the sound of his boyfriends voice makes him jolt and he wishes, not for the first time that he had TK’s ability to go from sound asleep to awake in seconds. “TK?” he replies, scrubbing his hand does his face to try and incite his brain to be more alert. “Yeah, it’s me” TK says and Carlos’s brain is working enough to detect how quiet and subdued his voice is which is so unlike his boyfriend that it acts like a hit of caffeine and he feels himself instantly more aware. Their fight from the afternoon rings through his head and his thoughts drift to reasons of why he would be calling in the middle of the night while on shift. “Are you okay?” is his first question and when TK doesn’t answer straight away and all he can hear is a ragged breath that rattles through the phone his level of worry starts to rise. There’s a strange sound in the background that he can’t place that makes him frown “Are you still at work?” “Not exactly” TK stutters out “promise you won’t freak out?” “You saying that makes me think that it’s something worth freaking out over” “Well, it’s not. Not really” TK says and Carlos pushes himself into a sitting position, unconvinced. “TK. What’s going on?” “I may be at the hospital” “The hospital” Carlos replies in disbelief “Again?” “I wouldn’t even be here if Tommy didn’t worry so much. I’m okay” “The being at hospital bit negates the okay comment just so you know” he hears TK sigh on the other end and tells himself to calm down as he gets up from bed and moves across the room to find some clothes. “I know you have an early shift, but can you come get me?” TK asks before sniffling like he is trying to keep tears at bay “Of course I will” Carlos soothes “Is your head okay?” “Yes, yes. I’m really fine, they’re letting me go home. If it was bad I wouldn’t be the one calling you” TK says and Carlos wants to quiz him further, tell him that he knows he is lying but the image of TK last time he was in a hospital fills Carlos’s mind and he swallows any further questions down and instead concerns himself with heading downstairs to find his keys and wallet before doubling back to find some spare clothes, just in case. “I’m nearly out the door and I’ll be on the way. Is someone there with you?” “No. It’s been a busy shift, I told them to go.” Carlos swears under his breath as he imagines his boyfriend all alone in a hospital bed and hurries his footsteps as he heads towards his car. “I’ll be there really soon, I’m in the car right now” Carlos tells him as he starts the engine and pulls out of his driveway to start the trek across town. “Okay” TK mumbles and Carlos can’t figure out if TK is being so quiet because he is more hurt than he wants to let on or if there is something else going on but it only makes him want to get by his side quicker. “Why did Tommy think you needed to be in hospital?” he asks gently. “Can we talk when you get here?” TK asks after a pause and Carlos squeezes the steering wheel to prevent him from arguing. “Yeah, sure. Do you want to keep talking?” “No, no. I’m sorry. I feel bad that you have to come here at this hour” “Don’t apologise, TK. It’s really okay” “Okay, well I’ll see you soon” TK says and Carlos returns the sentiment before hanging up and takes a deep breath as he relaxes his grip on the wheel, pausing at a red light. By the time he gets to the hospital 15 minutes later and finds a thankfully close carpark, he’s worked himself up to a low panic that TK is worse than he had let on. The nurse at the front desk looks frazzled, but allows him to go through. He turns the corner as instructed and sees TK lying down on the bed still dressed in his uniform with his eyes closed. On first glance he sees nothing amiss, but confusion turns to worry as TK groans, eyes squeezed shut making it obvious he isn’t sleeping at all. He walks towards the bed, putting the bag he had packed on the chair nearby and watches as TK blinks his eyes open. “Hey you” he gives him a small smile as TK drowsily looks up at him. “You’re here” Tk replies, and through half open eyes he reaches a hand towards him. “You look…undamaged?” Carlos asks, searching up and down for any sign of injury, holding TK’s hand. “I told you I was fine” TK replies and Carlos tilts his head at him as he watches TK push himself into a sitting position, breathing heavily as he does. “Yet you can’t sit up?”   “I’m just tired, not used to the full shifts yet” “Tommy wouldn’t force you into hospital over you being tired” “Well, that’s exactly what she did” TK replies angrily and drops Carlos’s hand, slinging his legs over the side of the bed. Carlos is about to question him further when a doctor comes around the corner. “Looks like you found someone to come and get you?” she asks giving Carlos an easy smile. “Carlos, my boyfriend” TK says, motioning towards him and the doctor gives him a nod in greeting, reaching across to shake his hand. “I’m Dr Larkin” She says before looking back at TK handing him a card which TK looks at cautiously before scowling and holding up back at her. “I don’t need that. I told you” He says and when she doesn’t take it back from him TK squeezes it into his palm and throws it on the bed next to him. “You want to work again, you will need that” she remarks and TK clenches his hands together, anger radiating off of him. “I’m sorry, what’s going on?” Carlos asks and TK moves his glance between him and the doctor and Carlos can see the gears turning in his head before his shoulders slump. “You can tell him” TK mumbles to her “I’m concerned that TK has post-concussion syndrome, I’ll let him tell you about what happened today, but I think it’s best that he doesn’t work right now” “I got a little dizzy at work” Tk interrupts, voice still lined with annoyance “and I just couldn’t remember one thing, which I think is perfectly reasonable when I haven’t been at work for a few weeks” Carlos stays silent at TK’s words even as there’s a rising relief that what he has been worrying about has been warranted. Rather than quizzing him further he gets up to sit next to TK on the bed, moving his right hand to cover TK’s left leg causing him to stop it from nervously bouncing. “Did you tell her about all the other stuff?” Carlos asks quietly and TK freezes just for a moment and Carlos waits for the denial, but it doesn’t come and instead he shakes his head and Carlos feels the first tug of anxiety leave his body when he realises TK isn’t going to fight him anymore before looking at the doctor, still standing in front of them. “He’s been having headaches all week. Probably worse than what he lets on to me, I’m guessing. He also nearly fell in the bathroom a couple of days ago which he thinks I didn’t see, but I did” “I’m sorry” TK whispers and lets his head fall onto Carlos’s shoulder “I just need to work, I can’t sit for days with nothing to concentrate on” “I know” Carlos says, stroking his thigh in response “Knowing that, I’m confident in saying you do have post-concussion syndrome. The symptoms may last another day or a few more weeks, or months but you simply can’t have these symptoms and work. Especially when you’re in charge of helping other people, I’m sorry. I’m taking away the clearance and you need to go see the specialist” she looks across at Carlos, then “I’m assuming you already have the contact details?” “Yeah, we’re good” Carlos confirms and TK huffs next to him “Okay, I’ll get those discharge papers going and you’ll be set to go” Carlos gives her a smile in thanks and watches her go, squeezing TK’s leg to get his attention. “You falling asleep on me?” Carlos asks when they sit in silence for a few minutes. “No” TK replies quietly, voice low and wobbly. “You’re going to be fine, okay?” Carlos soothes and when he hears TK sniff he moves his hand to wrap around his shoulder and hugs him against his side. “I’m sorry I’ve been so horrible” “It’s okay, I can take it” “You shouldn’t have to” TK sighs and moves so he is sitting upright again and Carlos lets his hand fall until it is wrapped around his side “I knew I wasn’t okay, I just hoped it would go away, you know? I can’t keep sitting at home all alone and doing nothing” “You can’t be working though, TK. You know you can’t” “It’s been weeks, what if it doesn’t go away?” Carlos wants to tell him it won’t happen, but he’s spent enough time this week researching symptoms that he’s not certain it would be the truth. “Don’t worry about that right now. You need to go to the specialist and see what they say. You can be as stubborn as you want but I’m not going anywhere. Let me help you, okay?” TK nods slightly and then grimaces before shutting his eyes again. “Dizzy?” Carlos asks and when TK mumbles out a ‘yeah’ under his breath he starts to stroke TK’s side offering whatever comfort he can. Thankfully, a nurse comes in only moments later holding out a clipboard with a form ready for TK to sign. He opens his eyes long enough to scribble a version of his name before squeezing them shut again. “You need any help getting out of here?” the nurse asks and before Carlos even has a chance to answer her TK is interrupting, defiance in his voice. “No. I can walk” he insists and Carlos takes one look at how miserable he is and is inclined to let him have his way. “If you’re still feeling dizzy, it might be best not to try walking out of here” the nurse tells him and TK stubbornly grips the bed and pushes himself to his feet, wobbling for just a second before he rights himself and the nurse looks amused at his actions but shrugs at him seemingly convinced. “Alright then, Doctor Larkin said she talked about the anti-nausea medication with you earlier?” she waits for TK to acknowledge her before handing over a prescription which TK straight away holds out to Carlos. “Okay, you’re all set then. No more visits to us for a while, yeah?” she smiles at them both and leaves them alone. Carlos is about to ask if he should go fill the prescription now or if it’s okay to wait when TK lets out a low moan and drops back down to the bed. “TK?” “Just give me a second” TK mutters out and Carlos rises to stand in front of him and watches as he takes slow deep breaths, a technique he remembers a nurse teaching him in hospital mere weeks ago to work through pain and nausea. TK eventually lifts his head up again and Carlos can see he is clearly tired and there’s the ghost of pain sticking in his expression, but he holds his arms out and grabs the front of Carlos’s tee, pulling him closer and leaning his head against his stomach. “When does your dad finish work?” Carlos asks, breaking the silence. “8 I think. He said he’d come straight home when I talked to him earlier. He wasn’t impressed with me either” “You do make us worry. Can you text him to come to my place? I think I’ll take today off” TK moves his head so he can look up at him. “Are you sure? You don’t have to take off work for me” “Yes. I’m sure. I’ll just be worried about you anyway” Carlos admits and when TK still doesn’t look convinced, he leans down and presses his lips to his “Don’t. I want to do this. Come on, let’s get you out of here. Sure you don’t need any help?” “I’m not going out of here in a wheelchair” TK tells him, sure of himself and Carlos lets out an amused laugh before stepping away from him and opening the bag, pulling out a hoodie and holding it out. “You bought me clothes?” TK asks, staring at the clothing in wonder “It was literally on the floor of my bedroom, not too hard to find. Put it on, it’s cool out” TK reaches over to grab his hand as he zips the bag back up and Carlos lets him pull him back towards him. “You’re too good to me, you know” “I love you” Carlos replies simply, and he relishes in the knowledge that it is getting less and less difficult for him to say the words out loud, knowing that the risk of it being thrown back in his face is steadily disappearing. “I love you too” TK says back and holding both of Carlos’s hands, he gets to his feet again waiting for a moment as he does and Carlos returns his smile when he seems to be able to stand without too much trouble. “Good?” Carlos asks, reaching across to sling the bag over his shoulder, still holding one of TK’s hands in his. “Good” TK agrees, fatigue starting to cloud over him and Carlos hovers next to him as he pulls the hoodie over his head. “Can we make this the last hospital visit for at least a month?” Carlos teases and TK rolls his eyes at him. Carlos slips his arm around him as they start to slowly make their way out, giving a nod in the direction of the nurse as they walk past. “I didn’t even want to be here today” TK reminds him “You shouldn’t have been at work in the first place, don’t blame Tommy” Carlos says directing TK towards his car as they exit. “Yeah, yeah” TK murmurs “You’ll get back to work, okay? You just need some more time” Carlos assures him and TK gives him a small smile as they reach his car and Carlos throws the bag into the back. “Besides, I get more time with you, I can’t complain about that” “Either can I” TK agrees, lowering himself into the car “I’m not going to lie, I feel like I haven’t slept for days” he adds once Carlos has entered from the drivers side “Then, let’s go home and sleep” Carlos says and then immediately freezes as he registers what he has said. His hand is poised on the gear stick, and he glances across to see TK’s reaction. “What? What’s wrong?” TK asks and Carlos realises that TK has either not heard what he’d said or doesn’t find anything amiss about it and quickly relaxes. It’s a thought for another day when they aren’t sitting in a hospital car park, but the idea of TK and home rushes over him so comfortably that he can’t help but reach across and grab TK’s hand for a moment. “I’m good”

[itwoodbeprefect]

as someone who lived thru mcdanno, what are ur expectations for buddie? (fellow clown here)

fjdkfd god, i do love that question, thank you, but prepare yourself for too many words and perhaps not the answer you want to hear.

first off, i feel like i barely even really lived through mcdanno. i came in around the time season 9 started and caught up midway through, so at that point there had been a full eight and a bit seasons to very clearly set the tone on that show and in steve and danny's relationship, which is queerbait, times ten. i literally never expected anything else, and i fully knew what i was getting into from the get-go. h50 is also a show i'd place politcally either in the center or right of center, often aimed at more of a boomer audience (oh god that episode about the "millenial" vloggers who weren't even millenials HAUNTS me) and with a number of queer characters i could (extremely literally) count on my hands, of which by far most either get a) one single speaking line (if at all), b) killed or c) exposed as a criminal. overall it's not a show that's kind to queer people, is what i'm saying, and it was never very interested in being so.

911 on the other hand... is very similar in some fundamental ways, hence the huge overlap there seems to be in steve/danny people and buck/eddie people, but it's also very different in many other ways. it only has four seasons so far, of which eddie has only been present for three, and the ensemble cast is WAY more an actual ensemble than in h50, which is also supposedly about a kind of found family but is in reality most of the time the steve-and-danny or even the really-just-steve show. mcdanno just gets so much more airtime, both by existing number of seasons and by minutes on screen per episode. the 911 setup is not a bad thing whatsoever (i wish h50 had done more of that! daniel dae kim and grace park DESERVED more of that, jfc) but it does mean that honestly, when i started watching 911 with h50 fresh on my mind and all the comparisons i'd seen on tumblr, i was like, yeah, okay. i see why people might ship it, but compared to mcdanno buddie has barely any setup at all. (i'msorrydon'thateme.)

and this is where i might accidentally be getting controversial, and i'm sorry about that too, because i really don't mean to put a damper on anyone's joy, but while i agree that buck/eddie can be fun to explore as a ship, i just... don't necessarily think it's going to happen on screen? and that's okay. there is absolutely nothing wrong with shipping something that isn't canon and that might never be canon! that's totally cool! the only problem with that is when you start expecting something to happen in canon and you end up getting disappointed if it doesn't, because that hurts and getting hurt is no fun at all, and that's what worries me a little about buddie and 911 fandom. when i look at the tags some people seem... very convinced. and i get that too, because when a whole bunch of people are analyzing a show for hints of a specific ship, it's very easy to get swept up in it and it's a kind of echo chamber in which you all agree that it would be good and make sense and how could this not be what they're planning considering all you're seeing? but i'm just not sure, in this particular case, whether the rest of the audience and the writers are seeing the same thing, and i feel like there's a bit of a buddie hype going on based on what (to me!) in all honesty doesn't seem like that much evidence in canon, which just scares me a bit.

again, certainly not trying to tell anyone they shouldn't be having fun with buck/eddie (you should!!!) or that there's nothing to go by in canon, but just. please be careful with expectations from that canon? if something happens, that's awesome, and if it never does, that's also okay. it doesn't mean you're crazy, but it also doesn't mean the writers or showrunners or god forbid the actors are evil people who have been stringing you along. i get how loaded this can be, especially because there is such a huge history of shows not going for queer relationships purely because of homophobia, and it can be easy to read that into this situation, but this show already HAS a huge number of canonically queer main and recurring characters, who are all awesome and written as actual people with lots of friends and sympathetic storylines and hero moments and i don't think, honestly, that accusing 911 of homophobia or queerbaiting or bad writing for not making the two men fandom has latched onto go canon is going to, well, accomplish anything, except foster bitterness and ruin something for people that they used to enjoy.

all of that being said, and not to fly directly in the face of everything i just said, but... it could happen. i'm not saying it couldn't. coming back to that thing about h50 and queer characters, 911 is very incredibly wildly different in its treatment of its characters, and they DO have queer characters. they have A LOT of queer characters, to the blessed point where "character b can't be queer because character a already is" definitely doesn't apply, which it has many times in the past even if there is someone not straight in the cast of some show. so i mean. maybe! it's possible! 911 is not h50 at all, and that's a very good thing imo because as much as i enjoy mcdanno, h50 is honestly lowkey unwatchable as a show to me sometimes.

so, essentially, my personal expectations for buddie as a romantic thing in canon are not high, but i guess higher than they ever were for mcdanno, because at least buck and eddie are on a show where it's a remote possibility. i think it would be great - a queer slow burn on tv, that would be amazing - but i also think the show and buck and eddie's relationship would still be great if they never did it, and that all the other queer characters they already have probably deserve a lot more attention from fandom if queer rep is really what it's about, because hen and karen and josh and michael and david are all right there, and that's not even getting into lone star with paul and tk and carlos. mostly though i think that i don't want people to get disappointed. nobody ever expected anything to happen in h50, and that gives a kind of freedom of certainy that there isn't in 911, which makes me a little nervous for this fandom and the people in it. not to sound preachy, but be safe, have fun, and make sure that things keep being fun for you, because that's what fandom is about. if they're not, it might be time to take a break, and that's okay - it's normal to get really invested in something you enjoy, but please also put your own enjoyment and comfort first. (and it's still totally okay and can be a lot of fun to ship something that isn't canon.) ❤