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221bsunsettowers · 3 years

Text

Masterpost of My Fanfiction

Quick note: None of my stories have a major character death. Any cw/tw are mentioned in the notes of a story, but please feel free to message me if you have questions about a specific story.

Also please let me know if any links aren’t working or send you to the wrong story.

This list will be updated with new stories as they come.

Buck/Eddie (9-1-1):

Good News on My TV Screen (AU, Buck is a news reporter, Eddie is a firefighter, and they meet at the scene of an accident; this is now an ongoing AU series)

I Can’t Get Enough of This Kind of Love (second story in the Good News on My TV Screen AU series, Buck is the reporter during the events of episode 2x06 Dosed)

I’m Underneath the Undertow, Come Dry Me Off and Hold Me Close (3rd story in the Good News on My TV Screen AU, Buck gets swept away by the tsunami while reporting on the pier, and Eddie sees it all happen live on the news)

When You’re Lost and I’m Scared and You’re Turning Away (Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt: Taking the Bullet, set immediately after the grocery store fight )

I Still Wake Up (Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt: Buried Alive, Buck sees something he is not supposed to on a call)

Let That Lonely Feeling Wash Away (After the grocery store fight, Buck cuts his hand on a broken jar in the store while still on the blood thinners.)

Put My Name at the Top of Your List ( Eddie's been in love with Buck so long, he honestly didn't realize there could be anyone in the world who didn't know they were a couple now.)

Drop Out From Under Our Feet (Bad Things Hapen Bingo prompt: Falling Through the Ice: What was supposed to be a romantic day of ice skating turns into terror when Eddie falls through the ice.)

I’m Going Back to the Start (For one of the biggest moments of their lives, Eddie takes Buck right back to where it all began.)

Keep My Head Above Water (Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt: Slowly Running Out of Air, Eddie's truck gets hit and sent over the edge into the water, Buck is on shift and realizes when they reach the site of the accident that it's Eddie they have to rescue.)

I Would Give My Life Before I Break This Promise to You (Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt, Shot by an Arrow, Buck gets shot by crossbow bolts while trying to rescue a wounded man at the top of the telephone pole, and Eddie risks his life to make sure Buck gets down alive.)

In Which Eddie Finds Out About the Flaming Car Driven By a Dog, and the 126 Find Out About Buck and Eddie (crossover episode with 9-1-1 Lone Star, Buck is completely confused by why T.K. and Marjan would think he was hitting on them. Eddie is not happy to learn Buck was almost hit by a car on fire. Hen cannot stop laughing. Some important things are cleared up for the 126.)

Swear to be Over-Dramatic and True to My Lover ( Eddie can't stop himself from delivering a monologue to Buck's parents about how amazing their son is, and Buck overhears everything he needs to know.)

Now I’m Pacing Back and Forth, Wishing You Were at My Door (Troptember Fake Dating/Undercover AU, in which Eddie owns a bookstore and Buck is the appealing mystery man who keeps showing up in some sort of danger)

Drabbles/Shorts (”I know you can’t talk, but I just want you to know I’m not going anywhere”, “Hold my hand,” “I really do like that jacket on you” (Stormpilot AU))

TK/Carlos (9-1-1 Lone Star):

It’s Like Wishing for Rain As I Stand in the Desert (Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt, Dehydration, When TK pushes himself too far during the wildfires, dehydration knocks him down and out. Luckily he has his team, and he has Carlos, and Carlos won't stop driving until he's at TK's side.)

Weakened to My Knees (Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt, Fainting, After fighting with Carlos, TK hasn’t really slept or eaten, and now his boyfriend is in a building that just exploded.)

What Happened to Bulletproof Weeks in Your Arms (Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt, Arm in a Sling, A criminal slips his handcuffs and takes some shots at Carlos, right in front of TK)

You Had a Speech, You’re Speechless (Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt, Communication Suddenly Cut Off, When Carlos gets caught in a hostage situation at the bank, TK’s cellphone is their only possible connection)

Please Don’t Go Where I Can’t Follow (Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt, Dissociation, Carlos goes missing on an undercover assignment)

Fill Up Your Lungs (Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt, Ambulance Ride, Carlos is exposed to a toxic gas)

Found Forever on a Field Trip (a series of AU stories centered in the same verse, where TK is a firefighter and Carlos is a preschool teacher; this series is ongoing)

I Shake and I Shiver Just to Feel You Breathe (Carlos is there to witness TK jumping through the minefield)

Like You’d Get Your Knuckles Bloody for Me (speculation fic for 2.08 centered around TK being kidnapped)

Cause My World Revolves Around You, It’s So Hard for Me to Breathe (Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt, Lifted by the Neck, TK is attacked while trying to rescue someone)

The Kingdom Lights Shine Just for Me and You (A Royal Historical AU, where TK is a prince and Carlos is a knight who wins TK’s hand in marriage in a jousting tournament)

Drabbles/Shorts (one shots AUs and future fics)

Other Fandoms:

Geralt/Jaskier The Witcher (TV):

Safe Enough to Dive In (Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt, I Ain’t Got Time to Bleed, Geralt's the one who is wounded, but it's Jaskier who is feeling the pain.)

All These Thoughts I’ve Been Saving (prompt “Don't move, they hit your head really hard.")

What Happens When You See My Face Again (Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt, Lured Into a Trap, set post-mountain)

When He Goes I Know He Doesn’t Leave (Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt, Stabbing, Jaskier is stabbed and left bleeding while Geralt is out on a job)

Drop to Hold You (AU modern setting: In which Jaskier is a musician and children's librarian, Geralt is a firefighter, Yen is fabulous, and Ciri really loves the library's Music Hour.)

Magnus/Alec (Shadowhunters):

Cutting Me Open Then Healing Me Fine (Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt, Doesn’t Realize They’ve Been Injured, He's so focused on rescuing his husband, Alec doesn't even realize he's been injured, let alone how badly he's been hurt.)

Drabbles/Shorts ( "Hey, don't listen to them.")

The Musketeers (BBC):

Hostage Situation (Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt, Hostage Situation, D’Artagnan is taken hostage to lure in Athos, Porthos, and Aramis.)

Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries:

Phryne/Jack:

Truth Serum (Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt, Truth Serum, Jack is kidnapped and dosed with truth serum.)

Sherlock (BBC):

Sherlock & John (platonic):

When the Lock is Forced (Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt, Used as Bait, Sherlock reflects on the times villains have used John to get to him)

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princessfbi · 3 years

Note

Thanks for taking soft prompts today, I think we could all use it! (Also I am a big fan of your writing). How about soft during down time at the fire station, having coffee together cuddled on the couch during a lull between calls?

Oh my gosh thank you so much!

You never would’ve known Eddie was the youngest child of the Diaz clan just by looking at him. No, Eddie was all hard lines of testosterone across rippling muscles with a straight back and an even straighter focus lasered in on his sense of duty. To be a provider. A protector. Eddie had a steadiness of someone who had gotten used to carrying the weight of responsibility of his shoulders and had been raised to not even think about questioning if the burden of the load could be a little lighter.

No, you never would’ve known just by looking at him. But you would see it in the small ways.

Like when he steadfast refused to go to sleep in the bunk room if the rest of the team were awake. Eddie Diaz, single father of one, army veteran, and professional firefighter would straight up pout if the merest suggestion would arise with the possibility of being left out.

It would be ridiculous if it wasn’t so adorable.

Hen looked up from her book when the paragraph about the history about polio started to make her eyes cross and took in the loft. They were bordering into the single digits of the early morning so the house had a hush settled into the rafters that drifted down like cobwebs flowing, caught on the soft hum of the AC. Bobby was still in his office with the soft glow of his desk lamp light serving as a beacon of welcome for anyone who wanted to chat. Chimney was sitting over at the table with his headphone in and his phone settled against a heavy mug while he spoke with Maddie during one of Jee’s feedings. A few of the others were scattered about playing a card game or helping themselves to a snack before disappearing into the bunk room.

And then there was Eddie. Stubborn, insistent “I’m fine. I’m not tired” Eddie.

Hen tracked as the coffee cup in his hand slowly but surely started to drift down as his grip loosened with each slow blink of sleep that dragged him under despite his stubbornness. She would’ve been worried about the liquid burning him if it weren’t for the fact that Eddie had been milking that cup for almost an hour in a true willful display of ridiculousness to stay awake. But he wouldn’t go sleep in the other room. Not when Buck was on the couch opposite her armchair.

Finding out their Buckaroo was an avid reader had been a surprise those first few months of his probationary year. It’d taken Hen a few late night reading sessions to realize that every shift Buck seemed to have a new book in his hands. She never could pinpoint a specific genre because it seemed like Buck read just about everything but it’d been something she filed away for future reference whenever she found herself surprised by Buck’s ability to shatter his own stereotype.

Buck’s book of a choice tonight that had captured his attention for the last hour with his mouth pinched and his brow furrowed was “I’ll Be Gone in the Dark”. Hen wouldn’t exactly call a book about the Golden State Killer relaxing per say but Buck and Eddie had apparently devoured the docu-series on their day off and the rest of them had, had to put up with their true crime theories for an entire shift after the news broke that the killer had been found.

Eddie had claimed when he slipped into the space beside Buck on the couch that he was reading too. That had been his excuse for when he’d tucked his head into the hollow of Buck’s throat and had tracked the words on the page. But that had lasted about ten minutes before Eddie’s eyes had started to droop and his face had started to nuzzle into Buck’s clavicle. At the end of the chapter Buck had shifted his arm around Eddie, keep his book in his lap for Eddie to “read” too, and another chapter before Eddie was practically melted into Buck’s side.

Hen watched as Eddie blinked once more before his eyes stayed closed and his breathing evened out. The coffee mug gave a dramatic tilt in his loose grip and she lurched on instinct to catch it but Buck beat her too it as he swooped his long arm down and plucked it out of Eddie’s lap without so much as a glance away from the page he was reading.

See Eddie could’ve gone to sleep in the bunk rooms. But in the bunk rooms Buck wouldn’t have been able to nuzzled his cheek into his hair and that simply just wouldn’t do.

Send Me a Soft Eddie/Buddie Prompt and I’ll Write a Drabble

#Eddie Diaz #Evan 'Buck' Buckley #Hen Wilson #Buddie #buddie fic #prompt game #Soft Eddie Diaz #911 fanfic #911 on fox #221bsunsettowers #answered #my fic writing

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morganaspendragonss · 3 years

Note

I’d love to request 93 from the 100 whump list for Tarlos if possible ❤️

thank you for the prompt! i hope you like it

93 - “I never thought I’d see you again, they told me you were dead.” (from this list)

ao3

Carlos has been undercover for three months when TK gets the call.

They have been, without exaggeration, the three worst months of TK’s life. He misses his boyfriend desperately; misses being able to kiss him good night and good morning, misses his laugh and his eyes and the sound of his voice. He knows that Carlos had to take this job, and TK is so proud of him for being offered something so huge, but.

He misses him, is all.

So, when he gets the call, three months, eight days, and twelve hours (yes, he’s been counting) after Carlos left, TK immediately excuses himself, cutting Mateo off mid-rant.

“Hello?”

A voice TK doesn’t recognise answers, “I’m looking for a Tyler Kennedy Strand?”

“Speaking.”

“My name is Detective Friedman, I was running the operation Officer Reyes was part of. He has you listed as his emergency contact, is that correct?”

A cold sense of dread washes over TK at the detective’s words, a sudden lump appearing in his throat. “That’s right,” he manages. “Is he okay?”

There’s an unnerving pause on the other end, sending TK’s heart rate through the roof.

“I’m afraid I can’t give you any details over the phone, Mr Strand,” the detective eventually says. “If you could come down to St. David’s Medical Centre, I will be able to tell you more there.”

TK almost drops the phone. “He’s in the hospital?”

“Like I said, Mr Strand -”

“No, I know, I understand,” TK interrupts, quickly making his way over to Tommy. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

The detective cuts the call without another word, and TK can’t find it in himself to be bothered by it. Tommy dismisses him as soon as she hears the news, assuring him that she and Nancy can hold down the fort for the remaining few hours of their shift. TK feels a little guilty for leaving them short-handed, but he knows he’d be useless on calls anyway, and, besides, Carlos needs him.

He gets to the hospital in record time, probably (definitely) breaking several speed limits, but he doesn’t get arrested, so it’s fine. The detective is waiting for him in reception, a grim look on his face that does nothing to soothe TK’s already frayed nerves.

“Mr Strand?” he asks, noticing TK’s hurried approach.

TK nods. “What happened?” he demands. “Where’s Carlos? Can I see him?”

The detective holds up a hand, eyebrow raised. “I’m still not at liberty to discuss the case with you,” he explains slowly - too slowly. “What I can say is, Officer Reyes was involved in an...altercation with our suspects. Physically, he suffered very little - a broken arm, a few bruises here and there - but mentally…” The detective pauses, shaking his head, and TK’s blood runs cold. He just barely manages to hold his tongue as the silence drags out, his anxiety building with each second.

“Well, the truth is, we’re not exactly sure,” he continues. “Officer Reyes appeared to be in a state of shock; he was almost entirely unresponsive to the team, and the nurses here have only managed to get a couple of words out of him. We don’t know what happened to put him in this state, but we were hoping you might be able to get him out of it.”

The detective looks at him expectantly, but TK just stares at him, mind reeling as the news slowly starts to sink in.

God, what happened to him? It must have been bad for Carlos to shut down so completely; TK dreads to think, though his brain is currently whirring through half a million scenarios, each one worse than the last. His breathing picks up as he feels himself start to spiral, and he jerks back when the detective grabs his shoulder, startled by the unexpected contact.

The detective sighs. “I understand this must be a shock for you, Mr Strand,” he says, “but the sooner we can help Officer Reyes, the better.”

TK nods jerkily, gasping as he tries to focus. Carlos needs him; that’s all that matters now. “Where is he?”

He’s led through the hospital to a single room, his heart crawling into his throat the closer he gets to Carlos. He’s not sure what to expect when the detective gestures for him to enter - bruises, definitely, but for once, the physical injuries aren’t what worry him.

What TK’s certainly not expecting, however, is for Carlos to pale alarmingly as soon as he catches sight of him, tears pooling in his eyes.

“Oh my god,” Carlos gasps. “Oh my god, TK.”

He holds out a trembling hand and TK immediately rushes forward, sinking into the chair as he joins their hands. He frowns in concern, taking in the near frantic way Carlos is studying him, his eyes bright and feverish TK reaches out, pressing the back of his free hand against Carlos’s brow, but he feels normal.

“Hey, baby,” he murmurs, holding on tighter. “You’re okay, I’m here.”

Without warning, Carlos pulls away, shaking his head rapidly as he shuffles back in the bed. “No, you’re not, you can’t be!”

TK’s eyes widen, his heart sinking as he stares at Carlos. He has no idea what’s going on, or what Carlos has been through, and he has no idea how to help him.

He sends a desperate glance to the door, but the detective just raises a pointed eyebrow and folds his arms. TK barely resists the urge to growl in frustration before turning back to Carlos, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself down. All TK wants is to hold his boyfriend, but he knows that that’s not the best move right now.

Instead, he slowly reaches out with one hand, keeping the other where Carlos can see it. “I’m here,” he says softly, meeting Carlos’s eyes, “and I can prove it to you, but you have to trust me, okay?”

Carlos doesn’t respond, but he also doesn’t move back when TK takes his hand, which he figures is a good sign. He brings Carlos’s hand to his chest, pressing it right over his heart.

“Feel that?” he whispers. “I’m here. I’m here.”

A couple more agonising seconds of silence pass, then Carlos launches himself across the bed, TK scrambling to meet him halfway so he doesn’t hurt himself. He bunches TK’s shirt in his fists, clinging on tightly, and buries his face in TK’s neck.

“I never thought I’d see you again,” Carlos sobs, tears dripping onto TK’s shoulder. “They told me you were dead.”

TK’s heart breaks at Carlos’s words and he fears tears pricking at his own eyes, but he refuses to let them fall. Instead, he holds onto Carlos just as tight, a steadying hand on the back of his head.

“I’m not going anywhere, baby,” he says. “I’m always going to be right here.”

#911 lone star #911 lone star fic #tarlos #tarlos fic #lone star #911ls #tk strand #carlos reyes #tk x carlos #fanfiction #my fanfiction #writing #my writing #221bsunsettowers

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jaskierswolf · 3 years

Note

#20 of the cliche tropes for Geralt/Jaskier or Lambert/Aiden please 😊

#20 - You’re in a coma and I confess all my feelings only for you to wake up - Geraskier

Warnings: Injuries, hurt/comfort feels. ____________________

It had been three days since the leshen hunt, three days since he’d found Geralt broken in the woods, lying half dead next to the monster he’d slain. For a few terrible, gut-wrenching moments Jaskier had thought that Geralt was dead too. He’d known more pain in those seconds than he had in his entire life. He’d managed to carry Geralt back to town. It must have looked a strange sight, a bard carrying a witcher in his arms, but he hadn’t cared. He had been too focussed on saving the love of his life.

Geralt couldn’t die on him. Jaskier knew it that moment that he couldn’t let Geralt die on him before he had the chance to tell him the truth. He’d been a coward for too long. He was too afraid of losing the only person in his life that hadn’t pushed him away. Jaskier had always made friends quickly but he lost them just as fast. He was too loud, talked too much about everything that no one else cared about, and he was pretty terrible at judging when people were cross with him. He was always too happy to have a friend to notice when they’d stopped caring.

But Geralt had so far not forced him away.

Jaskier rest his chin on his arms as he knelt beside the sleeping witcher. Yes Geralt was often grumbling about Jaskier’s singing, or constant talking or really anything Jaskier did, but Jaskier had given Geralt plenty of chances to leave him behind. Geralt never took them. Perhaps that was why Jaskier had fallen so deeply in love with his best friend. He sighed and pouted up at Geralt’s pale face.

“When are you going to wake up, witcher? It’s been boring without you. I’d say quiet but we both know that I can talk enough for both of us,” he paused to give Geralt a chance to answer but there was still no reply. “Still, what I wouldn’t give to hear the lovely dulcet tones of your voice.”

He laughed at his own little joke.

“Yeah, yeah. I know, the lovely grunts and huffs of mild annoyance. Better? Of course it is. We both know I’m the one with the dulcet voice, and yes I know you like my voice really. I’ve caught you almost smiling at my singing before, which is practically a beaming grin in your language.”

Geralt stayed silent. Silence had never hurt so much before. Jaskier took Geralt’s hand in his.

“I need you to wake up now,” his voice cracked as he felt the tears well up in his eyes. “Geralt, please. I’ll even stop singing when you ask me to, just… wake up. I don’t know what I’ll do without you, I love you.”

He closed his eyes and the tears fell down his cheeks. He kissed Geralt’s hand.

“And I know you don’t love me back but gods I love you. I love you so fucking much so if you could not die on me, I would really appreciate it,” he paused and sniffed, wiping the tears from his face. “thanks.”

“Always so dramatic.” Geralt grunted and Jaskier’s head snapped up .

“Fuck!” He spluttered reached up to cup Geralt’s face. “Geralt, you’re awake.”

“Hmm.”

“Gods, I thought… Geralt.” Jaskier buried his face in Geralt’s hair and sobbed, the relief of hearing his friend’s voice overwhelming him.

Geralt hummed weakly. “I love you too.”

Jaskier squeaked and pulled back to stare at Geralt, oh how he had missed those golden eyes. “Wh-what?”

“You heard me.”

Jaskier swallowed and smiled fondly down at the witcher. He pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Yeah, maybe just remind me every so often though, my dear, when you’re not about to die, alright?”

“Hmm, deal.”

Jaskier sighed and kissed Geralt’s cheek as he fell back asleep. He wiped his nose and let out a shaky breath, wondering whether he’d dreamt the last five minutes. That had to be it… Geralt couldn’t possibly love him back, right?

_________

Tag list: @alwenarin @slythnerd @davidtennan-t @flippinfricks @innocentcinnamonpun @marvagon @elliestormfound @geraskier-trashh @panerato @moonysourenza @artistsfuneral @victorieschild @hailhailsatan @wherethewordsare @havenoffandoms @bitchy-witchy-post-mortem @electricrituals @geralt-of-riviass @00qtee @kittynannygaming @stinastar @scribblesonmapleleaves @thecomfortofoldstorries @fontegagrilledcheese @anythinggoesfandoms @veritasrose @trickstermoose67 @nonegenderleftpain @ohheytheremiss @kueble (reminder you can be added/removed whenever.)

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier pankratz #geralt/jaskier #wolfie's witcher writing #hurt/comfort #mostly hurt #221bsunsettowers

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julek · 4 years

Note

Hi! 88 from the prompt list for Geraskier please? (I know they don’t really have front doors :D so they could just stumble up to wherever the other is?)

88. the one stumbling to the other’s front door after getting hurt/beaten up.

another contract, another small, austere inn. the town cemetery had been terrorized by a couple necrophages for weeks, and geralt’s presence had been a relief for the townsfolk, who had promised to pay accordingly.

jaskier sat on the small bed, legs crossed and lute propped on his lap. geralt had told him to stay put, and for whatever reason, he had actually listened, instead of going through their usual routine: geralt telling jaskier to stay, jaskier nodding in agreement, only to trail after the witcher the minute he walked out the door.

no, tonight, jaskier had stayed. he’d been going over some songs that needed revision, replacing some lines and humming new ones. he was so concentrated on a certain line—gorgeous garroter? lovely garroter?— that he almost didn’t hear the heavy knock on his door.

setting his lute aside, jaskier got up, surprised to see that daylight had died a long time ago, moonshine coming through the translucid curtains that adorned the window. his heart skipped a beat. geralt had said he’d be back before dinner, so where was he? before he had time to panic, the object of his thoughts stumbled through the door.

“geralt,” jaskier said, already moving towards what looked like a very unstable, very injured witcher. “are you okay? what—here, sit down,” he motioned to the chair in the corner of the room.

geralt inhaled sharply as he sat down, and tried to unbuckle his armor, only to have his hands swatted away. “what happened?” jaskier said softly, crouching down beside him, looking into his eyes with intent.

“wasn’t a couple necrophages,” he spat. “fucking thirteen of them.”

jaskier made quick use of his fingers, and in a matter of seconds, geralt’s armor had come off. he checked geralt’s sides for injuries, and found only a couple superficial cuts. relieved, he put his hands on geralt’s shoulders, steadying him.

“bastards,” he said, shaking his head. “first, they try to make us sleep in the forest” —the innkeeper hadn’t been happy to rent geralt a room, but jaskier had charmed his way through— ”and now, they lie to you. to you! the witcher they hired to save their stupid town!”

geralt grunted in reply. fuck, he was tired. thirteen necrophages weren’t a big contract, but it had been an unpleasant surprise, taking into consideration he had prepared his blades for two. now he was a mess, hair tangled and caked with blood, muscles burning.

“—i’ll go and talk to the alderman myself! who do these people think they are, treating you like this? you could’ve died!” jaskier, ever the dramatic, was already offended on his behalf. “they better pay you what you’re truly owed, otherwise—”

jaskier’s rage was interrupted by geralt pressing his forehead to his chest. his fingers immediately, almost naturally, found their way to geralt’s shoulders, rubbing small circles on his blood-soaked shirt, feeling the muscles relax.

“are you okay, dear?”

“hmm.” geralt pressed his head to jaskier’s stomach, now facing the wall. he closed his eyes, basking in the quietude of the moment. “before you torch the alderman’s house...”

“yes? what can i do?” jaskier asked softly, his hands warm on geralt’s neck.

“stay here.” geralt lifted jaskier’s shirt a little, and pressed a kiss to the warm skin of his stomach.

“of course, love.”

send me a prompt from this list and i’ll write a small drabble!

#thanks for the prompt!! i really hope u like it <3 i had fun writing it #mywriting #will i ever write something in which they're not soft? probably not #answered #221bsunsettowers #geraskier

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diazboys · 3 years

Note

For the three sentences, how about Buck/Eddie, they actually are true crime podcasters? ;)

lmao i love this one, thank you so much ♥

“...and that’s why it’s not really accurate to say that there are 206 bones in a human body since they can still fuse through your life and — depending on many factors — you can go to even less than 190 late in life,” Buck says.

“Which,” Eddie chimes in, not able to stop the fond look he gives Buck over the microphone, “is in no way related to the case of Deborah Jones we’ve been just discussing but it’s still a mind-blowing thing to learn, so thanks for this, Buck.”

“Oh, right,” Buck chuckles and smiles at Eddie sheepishly. “Sorry but where were we?”

send me a pairing, a setting and I’ll write you a 3 sentence fic

#buddie #buddie fic #buddie ficlet #thank you! hope you like it ♥#they'd be a disaster podcasters but i love them for it #the episodes would last like 1.5h cause Eddie would refuse to edit out all of Buck's facts #ANYWAYS!#thank you again and pls feel free to send me more #i love those things #3 sentence fics #my writing #221bsunsettowers #ask

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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 3 years

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Please feel free to tell me to stop 🤣 Pirate AU-(all Captain Geralt) -they run into a member of Jaskier’s family/old friend who is actually super happy for Jaskier; someone has written a bawdy ballad about Geralt &Jaskier & of course Jaskier loves it &immediately learns how to play it; turns out Geralt &Jaskier’s romance has sparked a trend of nobles trying to be stowaways on pirate ships; someone slips Jaskier poison in his drink at a tavern; someone tries to assassinate Geralt & almost does

Ohhhh I love the ballad idea!

---

“Gracious, Geralt, I think that’s a song about us!” Jaskier clapped excitedly. The Captain perked up his ears to listen, focusing on the lyrics the half-exhausted bard was slinging as he played his world-weary lute.

“I shall tell thee all a tale

About a curséd noble,

Whose legs could turn into a tail

And always brought some trouble!”

“Twas he who loved a pirate fair

The White Wolf of Kaer Morhen,

He isn’t really one to share,

I’m issuin’ fair warnin’!”

Jaskier clapped and sang along on the second round, giggling happily the entire time. “Can you believe it, Captain, an entire song about us!”

“Great.” the White Wolf frowned into his tankard. “Now I’m in a song.”

“Hmm,” the half-siren winked playfully at his husband.

“Aye, and a lovely song, too.”

#geraskier #221bsunsettowers #bouncey's buddies #geraskier fluff #geraskier pirate au #geraskier swashbuckling au #pirate au #witcher pirate au #bouncey tries to write a shanty #established relationship #pirate geralt #captain geralt #siren jaskier #creature jaskier #pre-ciri

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madamewriterofwrongs · 3 years

Note

For AUs, how about 9-1-1/Castle: Buck and Eddie end up called to an emergency at a crime scene that Beckett and the gang have also been called to :)

Prompt Me with AUs

I just finished watching an episode of Castle and I forgot how sexy all those motherfuckers were. Damn. Add the 118? That might be too much sexy.

This one kind of got away from me a little. Oops?

Here’s a little excerpt from my series: Unashamed.

Beckett was supposed to be on vacation - an actual vacation not a pretend vacation where she actually spends her time fighting bad guys. This was supposed to be her and her husband, celebrating their anniversary on the other side of the country where no case could follow them.

She should have known better.

Los Angeles is exactly how she remembers: hot, crowded, and filled with people who make her feel mildly self-conscious about her body.

For example: the two firefighters currently pulling the body of some mysterious woman out of the tree in their front yard, who look like they walked off the set of Baywatch.

Seriously, what is in the water out here?

They answer questions from a woman whose glare could put Gates’ to shame - they should call her and thank her for the gift she sent - and then wait on the lawn until they’re condo is cleared of first responders.

While they lounge, they overhear some of the firefighters chatting and stop pretending that they’re listening in. Five years of marriage has not made Castle any less nosey, nor Beckett any less inquisitive (yes, it’s the same thing, but it’s all in the wording).

“That girl was totally hitting on you last night.” The blond’s voice isn’t necessarily accusing but he certainly isn’t pleased about the development.

The brunet simply shrugs in response. “She wasn’t my type.”

“Oh yeah? And what is your type?”

“Tall, blue eyes, blond, muscular, kind of dumb but in a smart way, good with kids.”

As if he hadn’t actually heard the intense declaration of love, the other firefighter chuckled without looking up from his work.

“That kind of sounds like me. Too bad it isn’t.”

Of course, the brunet rolled his eyes to the back of his head. “Did I mention ‘dumb’?”

“Yeah.”

“Just checking.”

As the pair walked out of earshot Beckett turned to her husband who held the same disbelieving - yet highly amused - expression. They exchanged gaping mouths and halted sentences, struggling to find the words to describe the exchange they’d just witnessed.

Nothing came to mind.

Before they could continue to flounder, the couple returned, carrying even more nonsense.

“Okay, so my husband’s birthday is coming up,” the blond explained. “but I’m afraid to admit that I don’t know what to get him. Everything I can think of is either expensive or sexual.” He made a face. “Or both.”

The brunet rolled his eyes fondly. “I’m sure your husband will like whatever you get him because it came from you.”

Beckett mouthed her surprise to her partner (who silently echoed her disbelief) as the boys continued their conversation as though they weren’t at an active crime scene.

“So how do you figure she got up in the tree?” The brunet asked.

“Fell out of a plane?” The blond supplied.

Three voice answered at once: “She didn’t fall out of a plane.”

Castle and Beckett looked more startled at the police officer approaching the group, than at the fact that they’d been caught listening in to the pair’s conversation.

The firefighters took their intrusion with welcome curiosity, raising an eyebrow without questioning their presence.

The officer, on the other hand, still had some questions. “And how do you know that?”

Again, both Castle and Beckett opened their mouths to speak. “Well...” but Beckett cut off her husband. She could at least speak, one cop to another.

“This far west, we aren’t in the path of any commercial flights.”

“And the way she landed suggests a slightly softer landing than falling from 30,000 feet.” Castle interjected - speaking as one private investigator to... a cop.

There were few people who could intimidate Kate Beckett with a single look, but this woman was certainly trying her hardest.

And succeeding, as far as the NYPD captain was concerned. She was not afraid to admit that she shrunk into her husband’s side as the other woman scrutinized the couple.

Finally, the woman impatiently asked: “Any suggestions?”

Castle opened his mouth but only glottal uncertainty came out. Luckily, he was saved by the rather enthusiastic blond.

“A hot air balloon.”

“Gold star for Buckley-Diaz.” The sergeant congratulated him, earning a preening look of glee that even Beckett could admit was adorable.

His brunet companion snorted. “Which one?”

“The one who solved the case.” The woman replied with a smirk. “Dispatch got a call from a sightseeing company twenty minutes ago. Said they lost a passenger somewhere in the area. We’ll investigate but it sounds like a terrible accident.”

With that, she walked away from the quartet without so much as a nod goodbye.

“Nice solve.” The brunet high-fived his partner who smiled brightly in response.

Castle conceded the win to the dynamic duo before them, but Beckett was still caught on one specific detail.

“You’re both Buckley-Diaz?” The boys shrugged in affirmation.

“We wanted to hyphenate instead of one of us taking the other’s last name.” The brunet sent a fond look that Castle recognized from the mirror. “Create our own family, you know?”

Wait.

“Are the two of you married?” He tried to conflate this new information with what they’d received earlier.

The blond winked at Castle in response. “Guess you’re out of luck.”

Before the writer could even compute the last five minutes, the pair were gone and out of their lives forever.

The couple sat silently on the lawn as first responders finally rolled away from their rental condo, leaving them in stunned disbelief.

And they sat. For what could have been minutes or hours, but was certainly not how they planned on spending their first day in LA.

Beckett broke first.

“Do you want to go to Disneyland?” Castle was up and packing their bags in an instant.

They officially needed a vacation from their vacation.

Prompt Me with AUs

#911 fox #911 on fox #castle #abc castle #evan buckley #eddie diaz #rick castle #kate beckett #buddie #caskett #unashamed #alternate universe #au #crossover #cj writes things #prompts #221bsunsettowers #cj answers things

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tabbytabbytabby · 3 years

Note

From the angst/fluff prompt list, could I request CD for Buddie, no MCD please? :)

Combined this with @lilacsandorangeblossoms prompt: "you make every day worth living." Thank you both for the prompts! Hope you like it 💜

Also on AO3

One month. He's been dating Eddie for one month, and things have been going great. Too great, maybe. At least that's what his mind tries to tell him as he stands in the hallway of Eddie's house.

The lights are dim. A few battery-operated candles are scattered around the house. It casts a nice, romantic glow to the place. And Buck, well, Buck’s mind decides now is the perfect time to turn against him. Not because he doesn't want this. But because he does. He wants it so badly. It's just too bad he doesn't deserve it.

Eddie smiles and takes his hand, and starts to lead them further into the house. And Buck, Buck stands frozen in the doorway. His feet planted firmly to the spot. Eddie turns to face him with a frown.

"Buck?"

"I umm…" Buck pulls his hand from Eddie's and backs towards the door. "I'm sorry, but I just realized…"

Realized what? That Eddie's everything he doesn’t deserve? That Buck thought for a crazy few weeks, he could be enough for him, but it's hitting him suddenly that he's not? He can't force those words out. So he chooses to flee instead.

"I need to go."

"Buck."

He turns away and bows his head. "I'm sorry, Eddie."

"Please don't walk out that door," Eddie says. "Please, just stay and talk to me."

"I can't," Buck says. His hand is on the nob when he feels Eddie's hand on his shoulder. He gently tugs until Buck turns to face him. He can't meet Eddie's eyes as he says, "I can't do this."

"Can't do what?" Eddie asks. "I'm a little confused right now."

"Us," Buck says. He hates the word as soon as it leaves his lips. Hates the way Eddie’s hand drops from his shoulder, and his face pinches. Hates that right now, he's probably trying to think of what he did wrong because that's what Eddie does.

“I thought things were going great,” Eddie says finally.

"They were."

"Then what is it?" Eddie asks. "Why are you running from this?"

And that's a hard question to answer. He wants to stay, to let himself be happy with Eddie. But there's a part of his mind that doesn't believe he deserves it. That he's not good enough.

"Because you deserve better than me," Buck whispers.

Eddie frowns. "What are you talking about?"

"I… I'm a mess, Eddie," Buck says. "I'm not good enough."

And there it is. Buck's biggest fear out in the open. It’s better this way. Better for Buck to say it now than for Eddie to wake up one day and realize it for himself. This will save them both that heartache. Not that Buck's heart isn't breaking right now anyway.

Eddie takes Buck's face in his hands and ducks his head to meet Buck's gaze. "That's not true."

"But…"

"No," Eddie cuts in. "I know what your head is telling you, but it's wrong. You are enough, Buck. You've always been enough. For me, and for Christopher. You're our family, and we love you."

Buck chokes back a sob at Eddie’s words. He'd long ago accepted that Eddie didn't love him, might never love him. Even when they started dating, Buck was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. To hear the words from Eddie’s lips is almost too much.

"You…"

"I love you," Eddie murmurs, using his thumbs to brush away Buck's tears from his cheeks. "You’ve shown me what love can feel like. What real love is. And I only hope I can do the same for you. Because I will never stop reminding you how loved you are, Buck."

He kisses Buck's lips softy, almost hesitantly, as if he's waiting for Buck to push him away. Buck doesn't. Instead, he clings to Eddie and pulls him closer. He pours all the love he feels for Eddie into the kiss and just hopes he can feel it.

"I love you," Buck whispers against his lips. "So much."

"Then stay," Eddie says.

Buck nods, and this time when Eddie takes his hand and leads him back towards his room, Buck lets him. His doubts might not be gone entirely, but he knows he's not in this fight alone. He never will be with Eddie by his side.

Send me a prompt

#buddie #buck x eddie #buddie fanfic #221bsunsettowers #lilacsandorangeblossoms #filled prompt #my fanfiction #911 fanfic #what do I do when I've spent all week stressing?#apparently write my feelings

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justapoet · 3 years

Note

For a word, how about "heart"?

Thank you so much for sending it ❤️

So, I wanted a word to write something ― a poem, actually ― out of it. It kind of works when I put in my head that the poem is not for me, but for someone else (it's been a while since I wrote one and I missed it a lot).

Thus, basically, I wrote you a poem. Kinda. But because it was you, especifically, who sent the word, I might have done something a little bit out of my original idea, and I really hope that's okay (if it's not, please tell me and I'll delete this ask forthwith).

I'm a complete sucker for your AU "The Kingdom Lights Shine Just for Me and You" ― I swear, I love it so, so much ― and I took the liberty of writing a poem "for" ― not quite ― your story.

(Again, if you don't like it and want me to delete this ask, just say it. I never meant to overstep).

Anyway, it's like a letter ― but in the structure of a poem ― from Carlos to TK. Not quite love at first sight, as they are together more out of convenience and fate (I think), but Carlos' first impressions towards the Prince in a really and deeply metaphorical way (sure, you can see the moon eyes just through the verses at some point).

The poem will be under the cut because I got excited about it, and it got longer than I thought it would get. The word "heart" is in the first line already.

I suck with titles but I named this one as "Dead-roses garden". My psedonym is "Lady", so I'll sign the poem as such (therefore, that part has nothing to do with the story).

I hope you like it! :)

Dead-roses garden

Somewhere within the heart and the void, I have found a promise

An empty one, for hollow feelings shall not fulfill words

Somewhere amidst the death and the poem, I have found a river

Without peace, outwardly alive ― with living and bewailing ghosts

Down the beat the stream leads, I have found a corner

Its darkness surrounded by the edge of the cliff

An old path for the broken-hearted ― a new one for those who grieve

A hardwood door with a golden handle

Falling to pieces ― much like this world

Guarding a trail of gravel and ashes, and each one that passes is whispering hurt;

And by the end of the shadow, I have found a castle

A palace of bones ― yours, I dare to suppose

The flickering light from each stone and vessel hardly seen among the dirt;

Of an unknown past thee must have foreseen ― and somehow it departed before it was done

In glory and misery, then, thou shall lay, hidden behind a name and a throne

And a smile, although it prevails cloudless in amid the splinterings

I have deceived long tolerably myself for my soul to believe it

And, although I reside silent as my footfalls cease

My heart betrays me, thou see

Thundering, unannouncedly striking my vaultings against my lungs

Breathlessly, I halt undeviatingly in front of your harbor

Emeralds mercilessly sharping through my armor

Stabbing my soul and weakening my convictions

For thy broken mold still longs for light from the exterior;

Thy voice, honeyed and vacillating, queries on blank but my journey

Thy silence, unhearing and inured, longs to know what I beget ere me

My doubts, withdrawn and raising, desire to walk further into this path, lonely

For I see more than thou might share, for there is more than thou might want to burden.

Beyond these walls, there is a garden;

Filled with dead-roses, for they could not withstand the cold

There is a path, a broken clock that lost its timing

A heartsick dream inside a vow that did not endure for its oaths

Beyond this trail, there is a grove

In which the grieving river springs

There is a house, a forgotten chapel with broken vows and missing bricks

And, over the stage, there is a shadow ― royally playing its part

It has a crown; it has a fasces; it has a worn-out, weary smile

And it keeps performing, so tragically ― now for an audience of one

It does not falter, it does not shatter, for broken things are already gone

But it does fade after a while, for amid every tile, there is the sun

There is thy kindness and thy's compassion

There is thou still trying to come aft to what was lost;

Thy smile creeping through the sadness of a past that the future forgot

Thine emeralds a tad brighter ― and the flowers I may offer might just not dry

The soil of the dead-roses garden might ― perhaps ― come back to life

And the river of wailing ghosts might be silent as we cross the bridge

The hard wooden door conceivably is not the end of the cliff

And I feel my heart giving in, my blood poisoned for what there is no cure

For somewhere within the heart and the void, I have found a promise I long to endure.

― Lady.

#my writing #asks #answered ask #221bsunsettowers #i really hope you like it #if you don't please tell me tho #poem #poems #poetry #it's kind of #tarlos #related i think #i mean it is #but there's a whole context #and y'all should read the context because this AU is AMAZING #really everyone should read it #it's brilliant

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ravens-words · 2 years

Text

This really means the world to me! 600 may not be a big number, but for someone who hadn't meant to do much more than lurk on tumblr, it is. Thank you to each and every one of you for following this mess of a blog, I appreciate and adore you all so very much 🖤

Some fun stuff (you can send these on or off anon!)

💗 Send me a fluff prompt + a prompt from this fluff bingo, and I'll write ~600 words for it. (Tarlos, Buddie, Malex)

💔 Send me an angst prompt + a prompt from this angst bingo, and I'll write ~600 words for it. (Tarlos, Buddie, Malex)

💓 Send me a ship + a sentence and I’ll write the next 5 (or more) sentences. (All Ships in 911, LS, RNM)

🎀 Talk To Me About One Of My Fics That Made An Impression.

♤ Send me a character/ship + an AU setting and I'll write a three sentence fic.

♤ Send me 🎶 and I’ll shuffle my music library and give you my favorite lyric for the song I land on.

⚜ FMK, Would You Rathers, Have You Ever, or Make Me Choose??

Now, onto my lovely mutuals 🖤 I adore you all so very much, and even if our interactions are limited, know that I love and appreciate all of you so very much 💛

@tkstrrand @mtnofgrace @a-l-ias @doublel27 @buckybarnesalways @laelipoo @alwaysablossom @detectivestrandreyes @detective-giggles @loveyourownsmiilee @morganaspendragonss @probieeddie @actuallysara @daniela-bella @bluenet13 @kiras-sunshine @pragmatic-optimist @prettyboyandthekid @djdangerlove @lire-casander @aliceschuyler @maddieandchimney @iwonderifyouwonderaboutme @lovecolibri @rafaelsliva @howardhans @lilythesilly @mistmarauder @tailoredshirt @halsteadmarchs @rafael-silva @detectivecarlosreyes @theiconicscott @madneyfiles @madsbuckley @dancer-me @sabrinachill @honestlydarkprincess @reyescarlos @alilypea @chicgeekgirl89 @221bsunsettowers @breannacasey @noxsoulmate @moviegeek03 @jddryder @isastrxnd @chaotictarlos @cafeshopau @evandiaz

I LOVE YOU 🖤

#ej's600celebration

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221bsunsettowers · 3 years

Text

Buck/Eddie High School AU: Everything Will Be Alright If You Keep Me Next to You

Fandom: 9-1-1

Pairing: Buck/Eddie

Summary:

Buck was used to having no one cheering for him.

And then one day Buck barreled into Eddie Diaz in front of his locker, and nothing was ever the same again.

Buck/Eddie High School AU

This is my first high school AU and my first story for @tropetember 2021! Thanks so much to @officer-highway for the prompt!

Christopher is a national treasure and absolutely exists in this universe, but he isn't born until a few years later when Buck and Eddie have both graduated from college. They use their good friend Shannon as their surrogate ;)

Also I absolutely shrink the age gap between Eddie and Buck to fit this story.

You can also read this on Ao3

CW: Briefly referenced homophobia, Buck’s parents essentially abandoning him

Buck was used to having no one cheering for him.

Maddie had been there for every game when Buck was playing pee wee football, even buying pom poms to go along with the glitter-covered signs she created, to make up for their parents never bothering to show up. But then Maddie went away, and didn't come back, and the driver their parents hired said he didn't get paid enough to watch some kids fumble around the field.

Most times Buck would be waiting at least an hour after the game for the driver to show back up.

All his friends were on the football team with him, and they all had parents who came to their games and took them home after. Buck always hid in the trees by the field so the rest of the team would think he had parents who had already taken him home too.

And then one day Buck barreled into Eddie Diaz in front of his locker, and nothing was ever the same again.

Eddie's family had moved from Texas to Pennsylvania that summer for his dad's job, just in time for Buck's junior year and Eddie's senior year to begin. Buck was distracted by the grade on his latest Trig exam, hoping that by staring at it hard enough, he could change the marking to something his dad would not only approve of, but celebrate.

It would be one of the only times Buck would ever be grateful to his father.

Because he was so distracted that he walked right into new student Eddie, right as Eddie was reaching to close his locker. Books fell, the test went flying somewhere down the hallway, and as they both squatted down to pick the textbooks back up, Buck found himself staring straight into Eddie's eyes. Their hands brushed, Eddie blushed, Buck smiled shyly, and they realized they both had Lunch next period.

That day Eddie's truck wouldn't start, and Buck drove him home. (Later Eddie would sheepishly admit that his truck had worked just fine, he had just wanted to spend more time with Buck, a fact Buck reacted to with sheer glee.) On the way, they stopped for burgers, Buck eating all his fries and stealing half of Eddie's, and got so caught up in conversation the waitress had to remind them the diner was closing three times before they finally stood up from the table.

Buck dropped Eddie off at his abuela's house, and after they shared their first kiss on that porch, that home became their refuge. Eddie was practically living with his abuela, his parents having let him know quite loudly their lack of approval regarding his bisexuality, and Buck's parents were barely ever home and never noticed when he wasn't there.

They already had their plan for next year in place. Eddie had been accepted into Penn State Harrisburg, a college only seven miles from Hershey, with a full scholarship and a job as the front desk attendant at the Fitness Center. As long as Buck kept his grades up, he knew he had a good shot at getting in as well. He would get a job too, they could share the rent on a one bedroom apartment, and once Buck graduated, they would move somewhere on the opposite coast, officially leaving their parents behind.

But before all that came to pass, there was tonight. There was Buck, running in the game winning touchdown, lifting off his helmet to squint past the bright spotlights surrounding the field, to see Eddie. Eddie, wearing Buck's jersey, Buck's number painted on both his cheeks in their school's colors, cheering and clapping and looking down at Buck with so much pride and love Buck had to blink back tears.

Buck didn't have to hide anymore. He had someone to take him home now.

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morganaspendragonss · 3 years

Note

If you still have the square open, fingore for Tarlos? I looked it up and the definition made me all cringy lol because I am a giant wuss, so I was thinking maybe threat of fingore (or actual fingore if you want to go for it because you are clearly made of cooler and tougher stuff than me ;) ), something with Carlos hostage on a case and the bad guys want him to give up some information? Or Carlos is protecting TK somehow and won't tell them where he is?

holly's august extravaganza day 8: we'll hold each other soon

unfortunately the square had already been taken when this came through but i hope you like what i came up with! thanks for the prompt! tied into chapters five and eleven from the breeze in my austin nights

ao3 | 2.1k | angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, torture, carlos briefly thinks tk is dead but he's not

Carlos had known this would happen. He’s known for weeks; he’s felt the suspicion in the gang growing, sensed his cover crumbling bit by bit. It’s been especially bad since his run-in with Paul and Marjan, but that was really just the final straw.

Things with this mission have been going sideways for a long time. He’d reported it to his supervisors, of course he had, but all they’d said was that the case was too important to give up just because of one man’s feeling.

He wishes he could take satisfaction in being proved right.

Unfortunately, him being right means nothing to his supervisors. For Carlos, it means getting dragged out of his temporary apartment in the early hours of the morning and taken, blindfolded and gagged, to a remote corner of town, probably unknown to everyone outside of the gang.

Carlos doesn’t struggle as he’s shoved into a chair and chained by the feet, his hands and torso bound to the wood with a rough rope that rubs his skin painfully. By the low mutters and footsteps echoing around the room, it’s clear there’s more than just one or two of the gang holding him, so he figures that fighting will only make things worse for him.

Once he’s sufficiently tied up, the blindfold is yanked from his eyes and the gag removed. Carlos gratefully sucks in a few deep breaths, blinking hard as his vision adjusts to the harsh fluorescent lighting in the room. There are six men surrounding him and Carlos recognises one as the gang leader, Manese. Another, Daniels, is holding a crowbar, and all of them are armed with at least one gun, probably more.

Carlos, meanwhile, is lucky he’s wearing socks.

Thank god for draughty apartments.

Manese steps forward, his hard stare betraying little emotion. “I’m gonna cut the bullshit, Reyes,” he says. “We know who you are, we know you’ve been passing information to other cops, and we know you’re probably not doing it alone.

“So, you’ve got two choices. Either you make it easy for us and we’ll make it easy for you—I’d say I’d let you live, but you and I both know I can’t do that. But I will leave a body to bury. Or, you make it difficult and we’ll return the favour. And, believe me, we can make things very, very difficult for you.” He grins and spreads his hands out, tipping them in a mimic of a set of scales. “This only ends one way for you, Reyes. All you gotta do is decide how fast you want to get there.”

The look Manese sends him lets Carlos know that he already knows exactly what decision he’s going to make, and that he’s going to enjoy it. Carlos sighs and closes his eyes, briefly hanging his head. He spares a thought for his family back in Austin—his parents, TK—and prays that, whatever happens, they’ll at least be able to get some closure.

Then, he steels himself and looks Manese dead in the eyes. “Do what you want. I’m not telling you anything.”

Manese’s grin takes on a shark-like quality, and Carlos has to force himself not to react to the way he leers at him. “Excellent choice.” He flicks his hand and Daniels steps forward, a manic look in his eye as he flexes his grip around the crowbar.

Carlos barely has a moment to prepare himself before all he knows is pain.

He screams as the crowbar comes down for what feels like the hundredth time, eliciting a sickening crack as his arm breaks. Carlos’s vision white out and he folds in on himself as much as he can, his left arm straining to cradle his right, but all he achieves is the already abused skin becoming more raw and sore. He breathes heavily, blinking rapidly as the room slowly swims into view once more. Daniels looks bored, the crowbar swinging loosely in his grasp, and Manese seems to be running out of patience.

“Got your memory back yet, Reyes?” he asks tersely.

Carlos just shakes his head and braces himself for the next hit.

Which doesn’t come.

And doesn’t come.

Carlos squints up at them, frowning when he sees Manese with a hand on Daniels’ arm as he studies him closely. The calculating glint in his eye sends a flash of dread through Carlos; nothing good can possibly come of this.

“Go for his fingers next,” he orders after a while, releasing Daniels. “I don’t care how—break them, shoot them, crush them, whatever—just get me answers.” He turns to Carlos and tuts, sighing heavily in mock regret. “This is your own fault, Reyes. All this can be over like that”—he snaps his fingers—“if you just give me what I want. A couple names, a location or two, that’s all I’m asking. Not much, right?”

Carlos stubbornly stays silent—at this point, he’s not sure he has enough breath left to speak even if he wanted to—and Manese sighs again.

“Your funeral.” He shrugs and steps back to give Daniels room, but before anything can happen, one of the others in the room rushes forward to whisper something to Manese. Carlos can’t hear what’s being said and he’s too exhausted to try; all he can feel is relief for the brief reprieve. His arm is screaming at him, the pain in the rest of his body paling in comparison, and he’s not sure how much longer he can stand it.

The hushed mutters continue for another minute, until eventually Manese nods sharply and four of the six men in the room file out. He smiles at Carlos, sickly sweet, and claps his hands together once, rubbing them for good measure. “Looks like it’s your lucky day, Reyes,” he says, with a lazy drawl that can’t mean anything good. “Business calls.”

Carlos doesn’t have time to comprehend what that means before Manese and Daniels are also leaving, flipping them lights off as they go.

And Carlos is left alone.

Time means nothing as Carlos waits for someone to return and finish what they started. The only thing he’s certain of is that something must have changed to get Manese to halt his torture, and it probably isn’t a very good something.

Not for Carlos, at least.

He thinks about trying to escape, but even slight movements are so painful that he fears he might throw up or pass out or, more likely, both. Besides, even if he did manage to get out of the bonds on his arms and torso, there would still be the chains on his feet to deal with, and Carlos knows there’s more of a chance of rescue than him dealing with those on his own, especially with a broken arm.

His mind is left to wander, and he keeps circling back to one point that seems to solidify itself more with each second that passes.

He’s not getting out of here.

A fresh wave of pain—not physical, this time—washes through him, and his whole chest aches as he thinks of TK. He’d been so worried for Carlos ever since they found out about the case, and he’d begged him to stay safe the morning he’d left just over three months ago.

“Be careful, please,” TK said, smoothing down the lapels of Carlos’s shirt. “Whatever happens out there, whatever you have to do, just promise me one thing. Promise you’ll come back to me.”

Carlos knew better than to promise something like that, and TK knew better than to ask it. But because it was him, and because it was TK, Carlos just nodded and leaned in to press a kiss to TK’s temple.

“I promise,” he whispered, pulling away. TK didn’t let him go far before dragging him into a real kiss. It felt like it lasted forever, only to seem far too short when they broke apart, still clinging to one another. Carlos allowed himself another minute in TK’s embrace, then forced himself to move away, giving his boyfriend one last smile.

TK returned it with a smile of his own, and Carlos carried it with him long after the door swung closed between them.

It’s the last good memory Carlos has, and he’s going to hold onto it for as long as he has left. If he’s going to die, then the last thing he wants to see is TK’s smile, even if it is just in his mind.

Carlos is nearly blinded when the lights suddenly turn back on, revealing Manese and two other gang members standing in front of him. He only vaguely recognises these two—it’s possible he could dredge up some names if he thought about it for long enough, but his attention is locked on Manese, who looks far too pleased with himself, in the same way a predator must look before it catches its prey.

“You’ve made it clear you’re not going to give us any names,” Manese says, “so now I’m going to give you one.” He steps closer and lowers his voice, grinning like he’s sharing a secret just for the two of them. “Tyler Kennedy Strand.”

Carlos’s blood runs cold at the sound of TK’s name.

TK’s full name.

“What—” but his ruined and dry throat refuses to cooperate. Instead, he levels a glare at Manese, and hopes that it’s enough to convey every single question and threat running through his mind right now.

If possible, Manese’s smile widens. “Recognise it do you?” he says lightly. “I thought you might. See, Carlos, we have people all over, not just in this shithole town, and once we knew who you were, it was child’s play to track down your nearest and dearest. And who is nearer and dearer than that pretty boy of yours?”

He steps back and snaps his fingers, holding his hand out. One of the others hands him a slip of paper, which Manese then presents to Carlos, dropping it carelessly in his lap. “Take a look.”

Curiosity getting the better of him, Carlos looks down at what he realises is a photograph. He can’t understand it at first, but slowly the details become clearer and more familiar, and—god.

“I’ll give him credit, he put up quite the fight,” Manese is saying, but he sounds like he’s shouting down a tunnel, the roaring in Carlos’s ears blocking out most other sounds. “It’s unfortunate that fists can’t stop a bullet.”

Everything stops making sense after that.

TK is dead.

It makes no sense, so why should anything else? Carlos stares and stares at the photo, and keeps staring even after it’s snatched out of his lap, the image burned onto his retinas by now. He’s aware, distantly, of voices and sounds and sensations but they’re all muted, happening outside this bubble he’s created around himself.

He wishes they’d just get it over with.

Carlos blinks, and there’s someone new in front of him, someone unfamiliar who touches him gently and looks at him kindly.

He blinks and the scenery changes. He’s in a vehicle, staring up at a white ceiling, being taken...somewhere. He feels warm and the pain has dimmed, but he’s sinking again before he can put a thought to what that means.

He blinks and he’s in a bed, a woman standing in front of him and asking him questions. Carlos doesn’t really understand what’s going on, doesn’t know what could possibly be more important than the fact that TK is dead and it’s all his fault. He shakes his head at the woman and turns away.

He blinks, and TK is there.

And, when he blinks again, TK is still there.

And it’s—it’s impossible. He’s hallucinating or dreaming because TK is dead, and dead people don’t come back to life just because he might wish it.

So he tries, and he tries, and he tries to snap himself back to reality. But it doesn’t work, and TK is still in front of him, that crease between his brows growing with every second that passes. Carlos wants to reach out and smooth it away but he knows he can’t, and—

And, TK takes his hand and presses it to his chest.

Hallucinations don’t feel that solid.

They also don’t have a heartbeat.

This time, when TK doesn’t disappear, Carlos allows himself to believe.

“I’m not going anywhere, baby,” TK whispers in his ear, holding him close, warm and solid and alive. “I’m always going to be right here.”

#911 lone star #911 lone star fic #tarlos #tarlos fic #carlos reyes #tk strand #lone star #911ls #holly's august extravaganza #fanfiction #my fanfiction #writing #my writing #221bsunsettowers

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