#bthb: bruises
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Friendly Fire
lol, okay so I’m using this as a double-fill. @noxsoulmate picked “bruises” from my BTHB card, and this is also filling the TWP Pride prompt of: AU where they meet playing in an lgbt sports league.
This is my first time writing a meet-ugly, meet-cutes are kinda my thing. Also, I played fast and loose with the timeline.
***
TK sighs. “I don’t know, Paul. It sounds kind of awful.”
“What? Like you have other plans?”
TK scowls, tapping at his phone. He knew that in an attempt to meet people in his new hometown, Paul had found an LGBT sports league and signed up for a flag-football team. TK, on the other hand, had simply decided not to meet new people.
“Please. We just need someone to fill in for a few games until James gets back on their feet. If we don’t have enough people to play, we get disqualified. Please.”
“Yeah, okay. But you have to buy me a drink after,” TK relents.
Paul cheers, “There’s a boba place near the field! Anything you want!” He comes around the back of the sofa and leans in, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “And maybe you’ll meet someone while we’re there.”
“You’re not making this sound any better!” TK calls after him.
***
“I feel like I’m going to be awful at this,” TK mutters. Paul hands him a little elastic belt with some bright yellow flags drifting down from each side. TK watches as Paul clips on his own little belt and then grabs a football off the bench.
“Come on. Let’s throw a few before the game starts.”
TK rolls his eyes; tossing the ball around now won’t do anything except guarantee his arm will be too tired to throw later, but he acquiesces and follows his friend to the middle of the field, where other players are stretching and warming up. They take turns throwing the ball back and forth, trying to get into a rhythm before the game starts.
Paul throws one a little too hard, and TK curses, jogging backward, his hand raised, in an attempt to catch it. He hears a little commotion behind him, and his body slams into something solid- as does his elbow.
The football hits the ground next to him with a sad thump. TK whirls around and sees someone on the ground, his hand covering his face.
“Oh my god,” TK exclaims. “I am so, so sorry. Are you hurt?”
Paul jogs over. “Carlos, are you okay?”
“I- maybe?” Carlos pulls his hand away from his face and grimaces when he realizes it’s covered in blood.
“Here,” TK holds out his hand. Carlos takes TK’s hand in his clean one and allows TK to pull him off the ground. He makes his way to the bench with TK following a short distance behind. Paul hands him a towel, and he immediately puts it on his nose and groans as he tips his head back.
“Go find us some ice?” TK asks Paul. Paul nods and jogs away. TK slips a hand behind Carlos’ head. “Hey, keep your head up.”
“Huh?” Carlos grumbles and gives him a look but obeys and settles upright again.
“You’re not actually supposed to tip your- never mind.” TK is pretty sure Carlos is glaring at him, but it’s kind of hard to tell, with his face mostly covered. “Can I take a look?”
“Is that really such a good idea?” Carlos asks, but he pulls the towel away and drops his hands into his lap.
Carlos hisses as TK pokes at his face but otherwise stays silent. “It’s not broken,” TK says finally. “You’ll have a pretty nasty bruise, though.” He reaches for the towel, but Carlos snatches his hand away and brings the towel back to his face.
“Well, thank you, Doctor.”
“Uh, firefighter, actually,” TK murmurs. “But I’m dual-certified as a paramedic.”
Paul returns with a small bag of ice a few moments later, and TK takes it from him, attempting to place the bag on Carlos’ face.
“I’ve got it,” Carlos snaps, taking the bag from TK and holding it to his nose. “I think you’ve done enough.”
TK’s face heats up, and he steps back slowly, turning to Paul, “I should go. I really am sorry,” he adds, turning back to Carlos before walking off the field.
***
“Strand, you have a visitor,” Marjan calls. “He’s in here.”
TK looks up from his spot on the sofa and sees Carlos, in full APD uniform, trailing shortly behind.
“You taking after your dad and punching cops?” Mateo laughs.
“I didn’t know he was a cop!” TK hisses, “And I didn’t punch him.”
He jumps up and hurries over, pausing in front of Carlos. Even with Carlos’ swollen cheek and the bruise forming underneath his eye, he’s still the most handsome man TK has ever seen.
“I’m sorry about your face,” he blurts out.
“I’m sorry,” Carlos says simultaneously.
“Wait, what?” TK asks.
“I’m sorry,” Carlos repeats. “About yesterday.”
“Wait. I crashed into you, and you’re apologizing to me?”
Carlos chuckles and winces. “Yeah, I suppose I am. I was in pain, but that’s not an excuse to have snapped at you. You didn’t do it on purpose, and you were just trying to help.”
“This conversation isn’t going at all how I thought it would,” TK laughs.
“And you were right; nothing is broken. Just my ego is bruised.”
“And your face,” Paul teases.
“Right,” Carlos mutters. They stand in an awkward silence for a few moments before Carlos speaks up. “So, um, does Mr. Dual-Certified have a name?”
“TK. TK Strand,” he holds out his hand, and Carlos gives him a firm handshake.
“Well, TK Strand, maybe I’ll see you around?”
“Yeah, I’ll be…around.”
“Just maybe not on the football field?” Carlos says. “But, if you wanted to come to watch a football game… Paul could probably tell you when we’re playing next.”
TK grins bashfully and nods, “Sounds good; I’ll be there.”
“Great,” Carlos says goodbye to Paul and then turns to leave.
Paul nudges TK hard, and he stumbles forward. “Maybe afterward, I could buy you dinner or something? As an apology.”
“Yeah. Or maybe that could just be, like, a regular dinner, and we never bring this up again?” He says, gesturing to his face.
“Deal. It never happened.”
“Okay, see you there.”
Paul and TK watch, and Carlos gives a little wave as he exits the firehouse. TK turns to see Paul looking smug.
“I told you it was going to be awful,” TK says. “And it was.”
“And I told you that you were going to meet someone,” Paul points out.
“That doesn’t make it better! Wait, Paul… did you do this on purpose?”
Paul shakes his head and makes his way towards the staircase.
“Paul? Did you? Paul!” Paul just shrugs as TK follows him up the stairs.
taglist: @sanjuwrites, @chaotictarlos @noxsoulmate @meditating-honey-badger @plaidbooks
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Bait
Masterpost | Read on Ao3
Priya runs afoul of some Hunters.
Contains: Dhampir whumpee, kidnapping, mentioned drugging, restraint, used as bait, beating, broken bones, some gore and violence, blood drinking, parental whumper, minor character death
~~~
Priya awoke to the sound of unfamiliar voices.
She didn’t shift or groan as she returned to consciousness; she knew better than that. She remained just as still as she had been before as she slowly regained her bearings. Her body was upright, her neck lolling, and her hands were restrained behind her back. There was a lingering taste in her mouth— she had been drugged. A faint breeze told her she was outside, though she didn’t feel the sun’s warmth— nighttime, probably, especially given the crackling of a nearby fire. And there were voices around her— three, by the sounds of it— seemingly arguing about what to do with her.
“—just kill her now, while we have the chance.”
“There’s no need to be so hasty. She’s only a dhampir. And that means she’s got a Sire backing her up.”
With luck, their attention wouldn’t be on her. The bindings holding her were tight, but not too tight, and from what she could tell they were only rope. If she could just move her wrists the right way, she might be able to slip them…
“What, are you worried about drawing her Sire’s attention? I’m sure we could handle it.”
“Exactly.”
“What do you—”
The first voice cut them off. “You want to use her as bait? Draw her Sire out?”
That would be bad. Matthias couldn’t find out she had allowed herself to be captured like this. She started moving with a bit more urgency, but she couldn’t seem to make any headway. Everything Matthias had forced her to learn, and she couldn’t put it to use when she actually needed it.
“It’s a solid plan, no? Kill two bats with one stone, as it were?”
“I thought vampires turning into bats was a myth—”
Again they were cut off; Priya was sensing some discord among this group of apparent Hunters. If she couldn’t get free (and it was starting to look like maybe she couldn’t) then maybe she could use that to her advantage. “I’ve even heard a rumor that a Sire can sense if one of their dhampirs is in trouble. Something about the magic that connects them. She would be excellent bait if we wanted to set up a trap.” There was a faint crunch of footsteps against dirt, and she felt a presence loom over her, making her go still again. “Even better if we raise the stakes a little.”
A beleaguered sigh. “Would you stop—”
Before anything else could be said, a sharp blow landed right between Priya’s ribs. She couldn’t suppress the sound of surprised alarm she made, or stop herself from doubling over slightly from the pain.
“Oh look. She’s awake.” Priya finally opened her eyes and looked up; the Hunter was giving her a wicked grin. They had a young face, relatively free of scars, but what they lacked in signs of experience they more than made up for in visible malice. “Perfect. That’ll make things easier.”
Even if she had wanted to visibly react, she wouldn’t have had the chance before the Hunter struck her across the face, sending her to the ground. With her arms behind her back, she wasn’t able to catch herself, and she grunted from the rough impact. The blow stung, and she was certain her cheek would bruise later. The punch was followed by a swift kick to her stomach, making her sputter and curl in on herself. It hurt, but it was nothing she hadn’t dealt with before. She would be fine. She had to be.
One of the other Hunters fell in beside the one standing over her. The staff they were carrying gave off a dangerous, silver glint in the firelight. “We should make sure she can’t get away. Just in case.”
“Excellent idea.” A boot landed on her shoulder, pressing her into the dirt and keeping her pinned. She grit her teeth, but didn’t give them the satisfaction of letting them see her afraid. “By all means.”
The Hunter swung the staff in an overhead arc, bringing it down directly on Priya’s ankle. The joint buckled with a sickening crack, and she cried out as pain exploded at the point of impact. She had to close her eyes for a moment to adjust to the fire that had taken up residence in her leg. At least the silver didn’t burn her like it would a true vampire, but the broken bone was pain enough. Worse, it was going to make it that much harder to escape.
“There.” Even through the pain, Priya’s senses were keen, and she knew to keep them trained on the enemy. She heard the glee in their voice, and opened her eyes to see them raise their staff back over their shoulder. “She won’t be getting far on that leg now.”
“Good work. “You think that’s enough to get her Sire over here?”
A grin spread out across the Hunter’s face. “I think she needs a bit more.”
The one pinning her put even more pressure on her shoulder, matching their companion’s grin. “I think you’re right.”
The staff landed right across her ribs. A kick impacted in her side. She was lifted by the hair so her head could be slammed into the ground. The blows kept coming, and Priya was helpless to stop them, no matter how much she tugged at the restraints holding her.
The third Hunter never joined in. They were watching their surroundings keenly; they were likely just keeping watch, though there was a chance they just didn’t have the stomach for the brutality their companions were inflicting.
Matthias had taught her how to weather interrogations. But these people just wanted to hurt her for the sake of hurting her. It was a little chilling, knowing that the only way they would stop was if Matthias came for her, something she couldn’t decide if she wanted or not. What was worse, having to weather their blows and wait for an opening that might not come, or the anticipation of her Sire’s inevitable anger and disappointment?
At the very least, Priya knew how to set her jaw and endure. Matthias had been very effective at instilling that crucial skill into her.
---
Priya awoke to the sound of screaming.
The din was accompanied by the scent of blood, a siren song that immediately got her attention and had her eyes fluttering open, despite the ache in every part of her body. It took a moment for her vision to focus, and what she saw had both her heart soaring and dread pooling in her gut.
One of the Hunters was on the ground, eyes open but unseeing, blood still pouring from their mangled throat. Another was impaled on their own staff, pinned to a nearby tree, their screams turning to gurgles as their death throes set in. And the third was being held aloft by Matthias, his desperate pleas met by cold, stone-faced indifference.
Matthias glanced at her. “Priya. You’re awake.” He threw the Hunter down to the ground in front of her. The Hunter let out a soft cry of pain and landed in a heap. “Drink. The blood will help you heal.”
Priya pushed herself upright as best she could and looked at them. This was the one that had been keeping watch, the one that hadn’t taken part in hurting her, though they had let it happen. Both their arms were broken, as was their nose. She could hear their heartbeat, frantic and enticing. They looked up at her, desperation written across their face. “Please— I’m sorry, please don’t kill me—”
A tiny part of Priya’s soul felt bad. But the thrum of the Hunter’s heart was too strong a call. And she knew better than to disobey her Sire. She crawled forward, arms still bound; they crawled back, equally clumsy with their broken arms. Matthias met them with a boot against their back, stopping their retreat.
Her fangs slid into their throat easily. Their blood tasted all the sweeter with how it was laced with fear and adrenaline. She drank until their pleas petered out and their body went limp.
“Good.” As soon as she heard Matthias speak, Priya let go of the Hunter, letting their corpse fall back to the ground. He knelt down, and within a few moments her hands were free. “Are you feeling better?”
She paused to take stock of her injuries. The blood definitely helped; most of the pain in her body had faded to a dull ache. She was sure she would have bruises later, but she could deal with those. The problem was her ankle, which didn’t hurt as much, but was definitely still broken.
“I am. My ankle isn’t fully healed, but I might still be able to walk on it.” Matthias liked honesty, but he liked her to show that she was willing to push herself to please him even more.
“No need,” Matthias said. He held out his hand; she took it, and he helped her to her feet. When she tried putting weight on her ankle, pain blossomed up and down her leg, and she lifted it back up, though she didn’t show her pain on her face or make a sound. “I thought so. Let me help you walk home. You can take it easy until it heals.”
It was generous. Almost too generous. But she wasn’t going to question it and risk him changing his mind, or punishing her for expressing doubt. “Thank you, Father.”
His only response was a hum of acknowledgement before he started walking, an arm braced around hers to keep her stable.
After they left the camp and the smell of blood behind, Priya tentatively spoke up again, voice quiet. “…I thought you would leave me to handle this by myself.”
“I’m sure you could have,” Matthias said impassively. “But what kind of father would I be if I didn’t help my daughter when she needed me?”
Loathing and love spread through her in equal measure. She wished she could say which one was stronger. “Of course.”
Matthias gave her the barest hint of a smile. It meant the world to her, because she still had his approval.
The rest of the long trek home was silent. Priya preferred it that way.
#blood of the coven#silly writes#whump#whump writing#priya tiwari oc#matthias karsi oc#vampires#beating#bruises#broken bones#drugging#kidnapping#restraint#used as bait#blood#bad things happen bingo#bthb
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Bad Things Happen Bingo: Bruises
@badthingshappenbingo ┆ Square Fill #5
「⛧」 OCs: Kayde de Angelis ⅋ London Friar
「⛧」 Content: Captivity┆ Cursing ┆Threats ┆Implied Beating
⛧ ‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿⛧
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ❝ A finger on the trigger is a crutch; // Time to press eject, it's a feeling in your gut; // It's a heartache in the making; // It's half post lonely; // Deadbeat promises, for your eyes only. ❞
⛧ ‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿⛧
London could feel the static of Kayde’s anger, even from across the room. From the way he adjusted his sleeves to the way he eyed London.
“I’m not in the mood,” London mumbled.
“Who was it?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
London sat with his back against the wall and rested his head slightly to the side, against the radiator. But kept his gaze locked straight ahead.
“Tell me. I’m going to find out anyway.”
A veiled threat that wasn’t directed at London, for once.
“You already know. You sent him in here. I’m not a snitch. Quit playing saviour.”
Kayde crossed the room and sat on the floor, opposite London, who, in response, angled his gaze downwards to the floor.
“I know you’re not a snitch, London. This isn’t a trick question.”
“Sure as hell feels like it.”
“It’s not.”
“How many days?”
“What?”
“How many fucking days, Kayde?”
“Twelve.”
“You’re fucked in the head.”
Kayde didn’t seem to be able to give an argument for that. It was almost as if he agreed. Almost as if London’s damp hostility didn’t come as a surprise.
“We’re done.”
“Done?”
“Someone I trust screwed with you. I can’t just let that happen,” Kayde seemed reluctant to explain his thought process further. “So we’re done.”
“So, what? One of your guys beats the shit out of me, and I’m suddenly able to go home?” London narrowed his eyes. “No.”
“No. I put you in the position where he was able to. I made you vulnerable,” he did his best to smother the concern that edged his tone. “I put you in danger.”
London didn’t open his mouth to deny it. Or at all. He stayed silent. Instead, he trailed his fingertips over bruises on his arms — the ones that he could see — and over bruises he had yet to see. Just under his eye. Along his jaw. Trailing down his neck.
He knew they were there.
“Do you want me to grab you some ice?”
“You’re hours too late for that.”
“It won’t help?”
London shook his head, ignoring how his hair fell in his face. Greasy. Streaked and stained with dried blood”
“I mean, maybe it will. But don’t waste your time.”
He closed his eyes as his head rested against the harsh metal of the radiator. Because the company — he could tolerate that. But the pity? That was just a twist of the knife.
“How was court?”
“What?”
“I said, how was court?” London repeated himself without lifting his head.
“Court? You — why are you asking?”
“I assume you got off. Because you’re here. But how did it go?”
“You’re asking me about court?” Kayde clarified. “Just so we’re on the same page.”
“Yes. Court. Felony assault with a deadly weapon. Ringing any bells?”
Kayde huffed acknowledgment but didn’t speak for several drawn out moments.
“The shitty lawyer brought it down from a felony to misdemeanour charge because I have no prior convictions.”
“Good,” London shifted slightly, still resting against the radiator. “You took a plea deal?”
“No. The asshole couldn’t positively identify me. Acquitted on all charges.”
“Couldn’t or wouldn’t?” London opened his eyes glanced in Kayde’s direction. “Hm?”
“Couldn’t,” Kayde narrowed his eyes. “Why do you even care?”
“I’m bored,” London tried. “Your friends aren’t much in the way of conversationists, if you hadn’t noticed.”
“Bull. Why do you really care?”
“I was worried about you,” London made the confession with very little resistance. “You’ll get what’s coming. I get that — obviously I know that but —”
“That’s —”
“Stupid as hell?” London interjected.
“Yeah,” Kayde eyed him carefully. “Really damn stupid.”
The two sat together as silence settled into the space between them. A comforting silence, for London, at least. Void of pity and sympathy.
“How can I help?” Kayde finally asked. “How can I make this right?”
“Kayde — don’t. Don’t bother.”
“Don’t play hard to get,” Kayde muttered, getting to his feet. “Because I’m not playing with you. How do we move forward?”
“There isn’t a forward,” London’s brows furrowed, ever so slightly. “I’m not sure you’re getting that.”
“This is my olive branch. Take it or leave it.”
And London had to confess, he hadn’t pinned Kayde down as being one to ever concede. Irregardless of circumstances. Irrespective of fault.
“Y’know? I would just about kill for a shower,” London admitted, lifting his head to tentatively meet Kayde’s eyes. “If you’re offering.”
#Bad Things Happen Bingo#BTHB#Bruises#OC: Kayde de Angelis#OC: London Friar#WIP: Unnamed#whump#whump snippet#angst#mine#male whumpee#male whumper#whumpblr#captivity#kidnapping
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backhand slap for model au runa pls
CWs: Known whumpee and whumper, Whumper using whumpee for their personal gain, threat of sleep deprivation
Note: Semi canon! Runa is really good at not slipping up and saying what he thought he was thinking even when exhausted, but for this we’ll say he hadn’t yet refined that
~~~
Runa sits down on the hotel bed as he massages his hand.
Both him and Bebê have returned from a fan meet and greet where Runa was also signing posters and magazines. Now he was exhausted as he already didn’t sleep well last night and then had to act like everything was fine and that he was happy to see everyone.
He was more than ready to get some sleep.
“That went well! I hope you’re ready to meet more people tomorrow!” Bebê says with a smile as they take their boots off to minimize how much dirt they track into the room.
Runa looks at them confused as he grabs a hair tie so he could put his hair up “Tomorrow? I thought we didn’t have anything planned for tomorrow.”
They walked over to the dressers so they could pull out more comfortable clothes for the night. “Oh, I must have forgotten to tell you. At the last minute a nearby fashion convention had a panel cancellation so I reached out and we got it.”
He did manage to refrain from showing his disbelief “Oh, I was hoping that we could just rest tonight and tomorrow so that way I could be at my best for our next meet and greet.”
‘Meeting with people is exhausting because I know they can’t help me and acting like nothing is wrong doesn’t make it any easier.’ he thought.
Bebê sets their pajamas on their bed “You’ll have plenty of time to rest before and after the panel. You’ll be fine. Now, go take a shower. I’ll take one after you.”
Runa sighed and got up from his bed “Ok.” He says “I don’t want to go to some damn fashion convention.” He said aloud, thinking he was only thinking it.
In a fluid motion Bebê whirls around and the back of their hand meets with Runa’s face with a loud SLAP.
Runa fell to the ground, his hand going to his cheek as he looked up at them bewildered.
Bebê looked furious “You are going to it whether you like it or not. You won’t be disrespectful to me or the people attending. Get yourself together or you won’t be getting any sleep for the next few nights. Do I make myself clear?”
He quickly nods “Yes sir, I’m sorry sir, It won’t happen again.”
“Good. Now go take a shower. I’ll get ice for your cheek to reduce the bruising for tomorrow.”
General content tag: @emmettnet (incase the ask notification messes up for you) , @thebluejaysworld
BTHB: @badthingshappenbingo
#owe answers#emmettnet#bad things happen bingo#runa tag#bebê tag#model au tag#known whumpee#known whumper#ask to tag#shorter than the others so none is below the cut!#prompted writing tag#not tagging Bebê as carewhumper in this bc the ice thing at the end is purely for appearance reasons and any bruising still visible will be#covered by makeup. like normal :)#Homesickness is next!#model au#BTHB: Original work / Original Characters
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a wound to close
For @homerforsure 💛 I hope you enjoy this sprawling post-6b Buck angst Allison!!
Summary:
“What happened?” Eddie repeats, and he does touch when he reaches out this time, taking Buck’s arm gently by the wrist and turning it to see the damage. “Did you fall?”
The slightest catch in his voice over fall, there and gone so fast that Buck can’t reliably say it was there at all.
“I took my bike out early, got taken out by some loose gravel. I’m fine, Eds, really. It wasn’t that bad.”
Eddie just shakes his head, gently dropping Buck’s arm only to lift up his shirt like he knows what he’s going to find before he sees it: a mottled mess of dark bruises and angry red scrapes.
For BTHB: road rash
There’s a first aid kit in the Jeep. Two of them, actually, one stocked to overkill strapped into the trunk and a mini one tucked into the glove compartment. There’s a mini fire extinguisher, too, and a toolkit, and rope, and two umbrellas, and a box of disposable gloves sitting snug with a box of protein bars. Just in case .
“In case of what?” Maddie asked him once, her eyebrows lifted in disbelief as she fished a flashlight out of the passenger door along with a spare pair of sunglasses (Eddie’s, Buck was pretty sure, although they’d been there so long it didn’t really matter who they once belonged to).
“I don’t know,” he shrugged, hands steady on the wheel when he really wanted to rub at the flush he could feel crawling up his neck. “Just in case.”
Maddie didn’t push it. When Buck glanced over at her at the next red light, he was expecting amusement, maybe a little sisterly judgement, and he didn’t know what to do with the sadness he saw there instead. He turned back to the road, kept his hands on the wheel, and let the radio carry the silence until Maddie changed the subject and they were back on solid ground.
Maybe it’s that conversation, or all the childhood years between them, or just the fact that she’s his sister, the person who taught him how to fix things, who always fixed him , but Buck’s first thought when the bike lurches on the trail and skids out from under him is Maddie.
Maddie is going to kill me .
Maddie is never going to let me live this down.
I wish Maddie was here .
And then he’s hitting the ground hard, skidding and rolling and rolling, and for a long moment, he can’t think at all.
His elbow takes the brunt of the fall, stealing his breath with the kind of white-hot pain that numbs everything for a moment, for a second that feels like a minute, and then his fingers start tingling before feeling returns everywhere else as well, a wave crashing over him. It hurts. It fucking hurts. Wounded animal instinct has Buck clutching at his arm before his brain is fully online and he can’t say whether it’s the flash of pain or the feeling of gravel pushed further into flesh that makes his stomach turn. Fuck.
[Read on AO3]
#Evan Buckley#Eddie Diaz#911 Fox#fic#badthingshappenbingo#this one is somehow 7.8k??#idk how that happened but it is way too long for tumblr posting so#pls click the ao3 link if you would like to read <3#only two more bingo fics to go now!!
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pink and black and blue
Rating: T
Relationship: Evan Buckley/Eddie Diaz
Word count: 1.6k
“Hey!” Buck calls.
Eddie spares himself a moment to briefly entertain the idea of fleeing out the back, but knows it would ultimately be pointless. His truck is in the driveway so Buck knows he’s home, and they’re on shift together in two days and there’s no way his bruises will be gone by then, no matter how much he ices them.
“In the kitchen,” Eddie answers resignedly.
BTHB: black eye
(read on ao3)
#911 fic#911 fanfic#buddie fic#buddie fanfic#evan buckley x eddie diaz#myfic#fic: pink and black and blue#badthingshappenbingo
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may these memories break our fall
buck/eddie | teen and up | 6.7k words
"Eddie. Fuck, I missed you so much." Buck presses his lips against Eddie's neck, kissing the delicate skin there. "So fucking much." He murmurs.
There's a beat of silence and nothing happens.
Eddie's tense and stiff in Buck's arms, not hugging him back and not saying anything.
"Eddie?" Buck asks, hesitant as he pulls away. His hands rest on Eddie's shoulders and he looks him up and down one more time in case he's missed a big injury but all in all, apart from some bruises and dry blood on his forehead, Eddie looks pretty good considering he was just in a train crash. "Eddie, baby, are you okay?"
Eddie frowns at him, his brown eyes looking at Buck in confusion and wariness.
"Who are you?" His voice comes out hoarse and the words are slightly slurred together.
Buck blinks and stares at his husband.
A beat passes and he chuckles nervously. "What do you mean who am I?"
"I, uh…" Eddie's frown deepens. "I don't know who you are."
or: eddie is a soldier coming home for christmas, he wants to surprise his husband and son for the holiday but things don't go as planned.
BTHB Prompt: Memory Loss
read on ao3
#bad things happen bingo#bthb#prompt: memory loss#eddie diaz#evan buckley#evan buck buckley#buck x eddie#buddie#911onabc#911 on fox#911 fic#buddie fic#buddie fanfic#buddie fanfiction#my writing#april writes
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Hopefully I'm not late! But "collared and chained" for Shadow'zel? Ty!!
(Lae'zel/Shadowheart) Collared and Chained
Bad Things Happen Bingo for Baldur's Gate 3
The masked cultist tugged sharply on Shadowheart’s chain and laughed as she stumbled to her feet.
‘Careful,’ she said, grabbing Shadowheart’s arm to steady her.
‘And you.’ She pointed at the gnome Shadowheart had been treating. ‘Get back to work!’
The gnome jumped up and skirted around the two Steel Watchers standing guard nearby. Shadowheart tried to look past them and see the other prisoners, but the cultist pulled her away.
She held the chain just below Shadowheart’s collar and wrapped the other end around her arm until the links were taut. The masked cultist, a commanding officer, Shadowheart thought, liked to keep her on a short leash, and the collar rubbed painfully against her bruised neck.
They wanted to humiliate her. To subjugate and use her. It wouldn’t work.
Shadowheart gritted her teeth, kept her head down and followed quietly.
Click here to continue reading on AO3.
Click here to view my BTHB for BG3 Masterpost.
#baldur's gate 3#bg3#bad things happen bingo#fanfiction#writing prompt#shadowheart#lae'zel#lae'zel/shadowheart#shadowheart/lae'zel#shadowzel
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Snippet Sunday
I put off a ton of my college work because I had a spooky idea for the bthb (hopefully out sometime this month if I can get it together lol). Thanks for the tag, @heartstringsduet!
Carlos puts the gun behind him as he crouches down, making sure it's still in reach in case he tries anything. He waits until the man finally shows him his foot. The wound isn't pretty. Most humans would probably get away with a bruised shin and a few scrapes, but the silver in the metal has burnt the man's skin into an ugly red and white collage. "Can you wiggle your toes?" he asks.
"Yeah," he says, demonstrating. "It's TK, by the way. TK Strand."
"Carlos," he responds against his better judgement. It seems he's thrown caution to the wind, telling TK his name, but TK doesn't seem the type to hex him. Besides, to the best of Carlos' knowledge, wolves can't hex people. Probably.
"I'd say it's nice to meet you, but it—ah!—it kind of feels like you hate my guts." TK bites his lip when Carlos bends his knee, probably trying to keep from crying out again.
Carlos doesn't respond to that. He doesn't necessarily hate the supernatural, but he sure as hell doesn't trust a wolf as far as he can throw 'em. That's how Tía Lucy's husband got his face torn off.
"I'm going to get this off of you," he says, locking eyes with TK, "and then I'm never going to see you in these woods again—you or your father. Got it?"
TK nods. "Got it."
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Fic Roundup!
Febuwhump (@febuwhump) is over, and Bad Things Happen Bingo (@badthingshappenbingo) is nearly complete! Here's a quick roundup of how it went...
Your favourite fic:-
This is probably between I Love You / Sole Survivor which got the biggest reaction on Tumblr, and A Fair Price To Pay which had more love on AO3.
They're at the opposite ends of the scale in word count (300 vs nearly 10k) but I guess what they have in common is how much you all love Crosshair and want him to be redeemed :)
My favourite fic:-
Despite it being a massive stress which I barely finished on time, posting at five minutes to midnight, I loved writing Adrenaline Crash!
My favourite phrase was 'the crepitus of broken bones' and I was really pleased with the ending where I described Omega 'digging her fingers into the cracks in Hunter's armour' - yes, I meant it literally and metaphorically!
The one I want to write more of:-
There's actually a couple of these fics I want to write epilogues for - Presumed Dead and A Fair Price To Pay are the main ones.
But I'd also love to do a rewrite of Human Weapon / Worked Themselves To Exhaustion (also known as the Birthday Cake Fic) with more time to develop my version of the Batch living happily on Pabu, and featuring more of the characters for Omega to interact with!
And now for the stats:-
Total Word Count This Month - approximately 40,000
Longest Fic - A Fair Price To Pay, 9675 words
Shortest Fic - Left For Dead, 135 words
New Followers - 11! (I'm so excited to have you along and I hope you've enjoyed the stories!)
Future Plans?
I'm going to go write those epilogues, and then it's back to my WIP fic Pieces Of The People We Love! If you enjoyed the Cadet Batch stories I've posted for Febuwhump, this is where to find more of it - Part 3 should be coming soon :)
I have three more squares to cross off of my Bad Things Happen Bingo square: Kick Them Whilst They Are Down, Self-Surgery and Going Into Hiding.
Got an idea you can donate? Drop me a fic request, because in the short-term I have wrung my imagination dry ^^;
Lastly a huge thank you to everyone who has followed, reblogged, commented, and liked my fiction this past month. Re-reading the tags on the reblogs was great when I was feeling unmotivated, and it's so fun to know you've enjoyed reading my stories as much as I've enjoyed telling them! Thank you for all your support! <3
And a quick summary of everything I've written in the past month:-
Bad Batch - Cadet Batch
Day 21 - Unresponsive / Asthma Attack
Day 25 - Lightning Strike
Day 1 - Helpless / Caught in a Snare
Day 14 - Blood-Stained Tiles / Ice Pack
Day 24 - "I'm doing this because I care about you" / Victim Blaming
Day 26 - "Help Them" / Compelling Voice
The Bad Batch
Day 2 - Solitary Confinement / Bruises
Day 4 - Obedience / Conditioning
Day 7 - Suffering in Silence / Chronic Illness
Day 8 - Found Footage
Day 16 - "I love you" / Sole Survivor
Day 18 - Too Weak To Move / Bundled Up In Blankets
Day 23 - Presumed Dead
Day 5 - Rope Burns / Bound & Gagged
Day 12 - Semi-Conscious / Over-the-Shoulder Carry
Day 19 - Please Don't / Adrenaline Crash
Day 11 - Time Loop / Cabin Fever
Day 27 - Left for Dead
Day 28 - "No... not like this"
Day 29 - Not Allowed To Die
Day 15 - A Fair Price To Pay ("Who did this to you" / Tortured for Information)
Day 22 - Human Weapon / Worked Themselves to Exhaustion
Bonus BTHB Fic - Elusive: A Stardust Conspiracy Fanfic ("I know you're in there somewhere" fight)
Other/Original Fiction
Day 10 - Killing in Self Defence (Mass Effect)
Day 9 - Last Words
Day 3 - "Bite down on this" / Dissociation
Day 20 - Truth Serum
Day 13 - "You weren't supposed to get hurt" / Scar to Remember
Day 6 - "You lied to me" / Angry Mob
Day 17 - Human Shield / Impaled Chest
#febuwhump#badthingshappenbingo#writing challenge#tumblr writer#ao3 writer#fanfic writer#the bad batch#tbb fanfic#original fiction#fic roundup
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wip tag game!
yay i love these! i love talking about my wips (this is the only way some of them will see the light of day) so thanks @space-mermaid-writing for the tag! this is also a good push to go in and organize my megadoc a bit.
RULES: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! Then tag as many people as you have WIPs. (i don't even know that many people so no :))
Most of my longer wips are in their own documents, but the smaller ones live in what i call the megadoc. basically it's all of them in one big house until they're grown enough to move into their own place. I usually separate them out once they break a page and start getting unwieldy. trouble is, the whole thing is unwieldy now that it's so large. seventy-five pages of wips. i'm not counting the really small ones bc all they are are snippets.
under a readmore because there's 40
Independent fics:
Occupational hazards (snail mail exchange fic)
Three for the price of one (nsfw, aka the tentacle fic)
Hacked your phone
Masters of communication
You need to eat
NOT dating
metal and bone (whumptober 2022)
thread and blood (sequel to metal and bone)
Megadoc fics: (newest to oldest. newer is better)
ANOTHER self-indulgent fic
Battle of the proposal dates
Harpy has a headache
Wow! An abandoned wip!
Stop breathing i don’t like it
Dirt nap averted
He’s just like me fr fr
Drpepperony tag team
Car rides are for the uninitiated
concussion roomate
Uh. praise kink (nsfw)
owie
Dum-e is now an ESA
Cat Curse
Dead rats
The old sex pollen thing (nsfw)
Now you care?
Pre dawn breakdown
truth or dare without the dare
Prompt #1257
My own prompt :)
prompt 1229
BTHB: chronic pain
donut ship has dry ice
road rash and bruising
BTHB- twisted ankle
silly string
what is love? baby don't hurt me
ily, goodnight
hazy
alien flu
stephen got kidnapped again
long day
blood magic
good boyfriend
teatime
hacked ur phone
i don't know
have a seat
feel free to ask for more than one!
i'm tagging @darkkitty1208 and@hithertoundreamtof23! no pressure ofc :)
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BTHB: Depression
BTHB: Depression
NCIS: Los Angeles
@badthingshappenbingo
—---
A/N: Trigger Warning for descriptions of depression.
A/N2: Takes place during 12x08 "Love Kills" and 12x09 "A Fait Accompli"
—-----
Glynco, Georgia
It's pouring out.
It's storming actually, dumping up to two inches of rain on Glynco and the rest of the Georgia coast. With the outside night classes canceled, Marty Deeks lies on his dorm bed and watches his ceiling fan spin.
He could go to the dining hall and attempt to socialize with the other cadets or walk over to use the dorm building's gym.
But instead, he lies on his back with bruised ribs and shoulder pain, and just….lays there.
Hey, Cadet! How was your day?
He could answer Kensi's text, received two hours ago. He really could. Hell, Deeks could picture himself rolling onto his stomach, taking his phone in hand and texting- I'm fine. The usual. Miss you and the team.
It'd be easy. Simple. It'd also be a lie.
He isn't fine.
—--
"I'm so sorry, Deeks."
His eyes fly open at the memory of the four words he's heard dozens of times since being cut from NCIS and LAPD. He can picture Sam and Callen's solemn expressions, the pat on the backs from other agents and even the glances from officers on the day he had turned in his badge.
God, the looks he'd gotten walking into LAPD-
Deeks lets out a slow long breath before glancing over to the clock on the dresser.
8:15
I've only been here for twenty- five minutes. Great, he thinks before gingerly pushing himself into sitting up. Deeks rubs his bruised ribs- earned from an overeager ex- Marine during sparring- and winces.
In the silence of his room, he can feel his chest tighten at the sudden surge of intrusive thoughts.
I hurt and I'm exhausted. I can’t sleep and I’m running on empty.
Unexpectedly, he lets out a sob.
I can’t fail-
I can't-
His cellphone rings from behind him, causing him to flinch. Deeks grabs the phone and looks at the screen to see a video request from Kensi. He takes in another slow breath and musters the closest he can to a smile.
"Hey, Kensalina," he greets and sees Kensi laying back on her pillow on their bed. The sight of her makes his heart skip a beat and he takes a long moment to take in the sight of her.
"Hi," Kensi answers softly. "It's what- 8 or so over there? I just wanted to check on you. How was your day?"
"I'm hanging in there, Kens. There's a storm that canceled a few classes," Deeks replies. He swallows and glances off to his left. "How's…how's it going over there?"
Kensi frowns and sits up on the bed. "It's fine….Baby, are you okay?"
He stiffens at her question and looks away from his phone. The tears forming in his eyes sting as he looks away and feels his wife's eyes on him even from a thousand miles away. "I'm getting it done, Kens-"
"You didn't answer my question."
"I didn't.." He chuckles sadly before looking back at the phone. "Kens, I…I'm drowning and I don't know how to get out of this. I know I have two weeks left but I just….I don't know."
Kensi tucks a loose hair behind her ear. "I'm so sorry. I can come up for a weekend if that'd help?"
"No, no, no- don't waste a couple of days on me," He mutters. "I just need to finish and maybe us driving back and taking some time for ourselves will help."
Kensi nods in understanding before a small warm smile appears on her face. "I have an idea that may help. Tell me three things that you are looking forward to when you come home."
"What?"
"Tell me three things that you are looking forward to when you come back home," Kensi repeats. She holds up the familiar desk pad and holds it up in front of the camera. "We can both list three things that we'll do when you come home, whether it's sleep in all day, surfing or whatever. Just three things."
Deeks drops his head and sighs. "Kensi…I…. fine, I guess I could go see my surf students over in Malibu. They know I went to a work thing and might get a promotion."
Kensi nods and scribbles 'surfing lessons' on her pad. "That's one. By the way, that taco truck that you've been fangirling over finally opened yesterday."
It's not fangirling, it's- He smirks at the thought and mumbles,"That's two. Look, Kens-"
Kensi sits up suddenly, cocks her head slightly and smiles with chin resting on her hand. "And I think…I'm pretty sure that there's another activity that we can catch up on when you come home."
"Kens-"
"The attic had been in need of cleaning for forever!" Kensi jokes.
Corny as it is, Deeks lets out a chuckle, the first one in weeks. He settles in the warmth it brings. "I miss you."
"Deeks,"Kensi smiles. " I'm going to ask you the same question every day until I drive up to you. You've been through so much and you are so loved and so amazing. You are almost done. Hold on to the things we talked about. Promise me."
God, he loves her. "I promise."
"Ok." Kensi sits up. "New topic- I've got a new story about Tiffany, Mindy and a six year old Facebook post. Up for it?"
Deeks lays back on the bed and replies, "Of course."
—-----
2,500 miles away, Kensi Blye listens to the soft snoring on Deeks via video chat. He'd only made it four minutes into the story before he'd gone quiet on his end.
I knew telling him a story would work, Kensi thinks proudly. She places the pad back on her dresser , recalling the idea from a phone call from Nate.
"I'm really worried about him, Nate, and I don't know how to help him across the country."
He'd told her to start with something simple- "Just be there for him. Give him something to hold onto."
"I love you," Kensi repeats again as she relaxes into the pillow. "Good Night, Deeks."
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Seven Sentence Sunday
Eddie should have known that the day was going to be bad eventually.
He never really has a day that goes a hundred-percent perfect, but apparently the morning going great, paired with the easy calls throughout the day wasn’t an obvious enough hint.
His days almost always start off with at least one little thing going wrong, like stubbing his toe when getting out of bed or his coffee being too bitter. Sometimes, his days start off with waking up in Buck’s big, cozy arms, a snore pressing into the skin of his neck, Buck snuffling and settling again. Eddie will shut his eyes and doze until his alarm goes off, or get up and turn to brush the curls from Buck’s forehead and press a sweet little kiss dead in the middle.
Sometimes, the day will start to go bad while he starts his shift; often times, they’ll get a call early on and it’ll end up with Eddie wincing at something that’ll bruise the next day, or get him dirty with mud, blood, or straight-up vomit.
Or, like now, it’ll end up like his current shift where a call hits way to close to home and has him absolutely reeling, full of grief for a child way too similar to Christopher for his liking.
currently trying to finish this up LOL!! i'm slowly but surely planning out each fic for the BTHB card i received recently...
#9 1 1 fox#9 1 1 show#9 1 1 on abc#9 1 1 on fox#9 1 1 tv#buck x eddie#buddie#eddie diaz#evan buckley#buddie fanfic#buddie fic#buddie 911#fic wip#fic writing#fic snippet#snippet#seven sentence sunday
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Rouse
Masterpost | Read on Ao3
A mission goes slightly awry. Nathan tries to get Renata out in one piece.
For BTHB: Trying to Wake Them Up. (And that's my second bingo!)
Contains: Fire, unconsciousness, falling, minor exhaustion, complex sibling relationships
~~~
The world smelled of ash and smoke. It filled his nostrils even as he tried to shut it out and focus on the scent of foul blood. The source of it was close, but so was the heat, threatening to char and scorch him if he wasn’t quick. And Nathan could be quick, but apparently some people couldn’t.
Damn Renata. He could be a mile away by now if she wasn’t so godsdamned stupid.
A wave of his hand had the fractured door in front of him fully crumbling, so he didn’t have to hesitate as he dashed into the next room. Annoyance and relief warred within him at the sight of his Blood-Sister, prone on the floor, blood oozing sluggishly from a wound on her temple. Tamping down on the urge to roll his eyes, he crossed the space in two quick strides and knelt down next to her, insistently shaking her shoulder.
“You idiot, get up. Can’t you see we have to go?” His words came out in a low hiss of sheer irritation. A beam creaked somewhere above them, and though Nathan didn’t flinch, it did set him on edge. “Renata! Wake up!”
But though she groaned, she didn’t awaken. Whatever had hit her must have hit her hard. Or maybe she was just being difficult on purpose. He could see it going either way with her.
“Gods- fine. But you’re paying me back for this.”
She wasn’t exactly heavy, and he wasn’t exactly weak. But that didn’t make it easy to heave her over his shoulder and stagger to his feet. If she wasn’t so limp, maybe it wouldn’t have been as difficult, but she didn’t afford him that courtesy. As it was, it took a moment, one they arguably didn’t have, for him to get her stable, and then he was moving again.
The smoke grew thicker with every moment, but it wasn’t bad enough yet to obscure the window in the nearby hallway. Getting to it was the main issue. The space was too thin to avoid the raging fire without extreme care, given how the flames climbed angrily up the walls and sparks rained down to the floor, and with Renata’s weight on his shoulder, he had much less leeway than he would have if he was alone.
Nothing he couldn’t handle. It was just the last thing he wanted to deal with. “You better give me a godsdamned blood ruby for all the trouble I’m going through—”
Renata didn’t respond to his quiet grumblings, but he wasn’t really talking for her sake. It was just nice to have something in the air other than smoke as he crept through the hallway, holding her close so her body wouldn’t get too close to the flames. It was a difficult tightrope to walk, moving quickly while avoiding the raging fire, but he had been treading more difficult ground for years. While this was far from easy, it wasn’t the most dangerous thing he had done by a mile.
That didn’t stop him from getting too close to a wall and feeling his shoulder start to sear, though.
A yell of pain bubbled up in his throat, but he bit it back. A show of weakness would do nothing to help him, and could potentially alert any enemies that might still be lurking. He reflexively tightened his grip on Renata and lurched forward, towards the window that was almost in reach.
They were on the third floor. It didn’t matter. Using his already-injured shoulder as a brace, he shoved his way through the glass and out into the open air. For a split second his stomach swooped as they plummeted, but he focused his magic and slowed their descent. The impact still made him see stars, and would have knocked the wind out of him if he needed to breathe. After a moment he righted himself, and a quick check confirmed he didn’t have any broken bones, even if he might be a walking bruise later. Renata seemed to be fine, too; her face twitched a bit, which means she was still alive, and there weren’t any obvious new wounds. He’d gladly take it.
It took him a few moments to stagger back to his feet, and several more to get Renata back onto his shoulder. The roar of the fire behind him was loud in his ears, a reminder that there was still danger he couldn’t ignore. As soon as he was steady on his feet with Renata in his grasp he took off towards the treeline. There was a river nearby; if he could cross it, they would be much safer.
(Not safe. They were never safe. But safer, at least.)
His muscles burned like the fire he left behind as he tore through the woods. The gnarled roots and overgrown brush would have tripped up anyone else, but Nathan had plenty of experience navigating such territory. The wind carried him as he ran, not letting up for a moment until he was at the rushing water. Even then he didn’t hesitate or break his stride, merely pushed off the riverbank and flew through the air for a moment before skidding to a stop on the other side.
Relief and exhaustion washed over him simultaneously, and he allowed himself to sink down to the soft earth beneath him. The adrenaline that had fueled him was now fading, letting him feel more properly the ache in his muscles and the sear of his burned shoulder. But he could deal with that. The blazing fire was safely behind him. Despite all of the hardship, the mission had been a success.
Just one thing left to take care of.
Renata groaned softly as he laid her down. He couldn’t help but scowl a bit as he shook her. “Hey, asshole. Naptime’s over. Wake up already.”
Her eyes fluttered. Nathan felt— something. Relief? Exasperation? It didn’t matter, because she was waking up, and he didn’t have to spend so much mental energy worrying about her. “Finally. I was starting to think something was actually wrong.”
At first her only response was a groan. Then her eyes fully opened and focused on him. “Nathan? What happened?”
“I just saved your life. No need to thank me.” He smirked down at her as she started to try to sit up, earning a scowl from her.
“You— I was fine. I had it handled.”
“Clearly you did. Passing out in the middle of a blazing mansion is a brilliant strategy; I’ll have to try it sometime.”
“Well maybe you should consider sticking to the plan and taking out your assigned targets before you come criticizing me about what happens when I have to clean up your mistakes!”
Gods, he hated her sometimes. Every part of him wanted to keep going, keep feeding the fire. Instead he forced himself to stand. “Well. What’s done is done. The mission’s complete, I got you out.” Her teeth flashed as her scowl grew; he just grinned wider as he held out a hand. “We should get back. Father will be waiting.”
For a moment he thought she would shrug him off. But then she sighed, long and deep, and took his offered hand to pull herself upright. “Fine. Let’s go.”
If she leaned on him a little bit, then no one had to know. If he let her despite the way the burn on his shoulder flared with pain, then no one had to know that, either.
#blood of the coven#silly writes#whump#whump writing#nathan park oc#renata blackwood oc#fire#unconsciousness#exhaustion#bad things happen bingo#bthb
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stay, I said
A soft prompt fill for @thekristen999 who requested ‘bombarding them with blankets, tea, heating pads, and anything else they’d need when injured/under the weather’.
Also for BTHB: black eye
[Read on AO3]
“Here.”
Buck’s voice is barely a warning before a blanket drops onto Eddie’s stomach. He startles, more reflex than reaction, and opens his one good eye to squint up at his best friend.
“Huh?”
Buck rolls his eyes, halfway to you don’t have to pretend with me, remember?
“You were shivering,” he says, and there are three perfectly comfortable armchairs he could sit in (plus one that looks exactly like the others but for some reason isn’t comfortable at all), but he lifts Eddie’s feet and slips under them at the end of the couch instead. “You’re not going to make me tuck it around you too, are you?”
Eddie grumbles, but it’s half-hearted. He keeps the ice pack in place over his eye with one hand and messily arranges the blanket with the other. It’s warm enough that he thinks it must have just come out of the dryer, and the sudden heat makes him shiver harder for a moment, until his body adjusts and he relaxes into it with a sigh. A numbing chill is still seeping down through his cheek, his neck, stiffening his shoulders, but with the blanket to huddle under and Buck’s hand resting warm on his ankle, it’s sinking into something more relief than cold.
Relief leaves room for everything else to filter back in as well: Hen and Chimney laughing as they restock the ambulance, someone boxing in the gym, Bobby muttering to himself as he fills out paperwork at the kitchen table. The alarm could go off at any moment, thrusting them into the middle of the next emergency, but for now it’s quiet. Calm. Eddie could almost let it coax him towards a nap, if not for Buck sitting at the other end of the couch, tight lines around his eyes like he’s the one with the headache instead of Eddie.
“I’m fine, Buck,” he says, softer than he thinks he means it to be. “Chimney checked me out, remember? It’s just a bruise.”
Buck’s smile is a sideways, glancing kind of look. “I know.”
But he still worries at his cheek when he thinks Eddie isn’t looking. Still flicks through apps on his phone in a way that means he isn’t absorbing any of it.
Eddie gets it—he and guilt have their own messy, long-standing relationship—but this isn’t something that Buck should feel guilty about. It was an accident. A random, could-have-happened-to-anyone hazard of the job. Like being struck by lightning. Like being shot in the middle of an LA street in broad daylight. Like being trapped at the bottom of a well. There’s nothing either of them could have done to stop those things from happening either. It’s not a comfort, not really, but it is a fact. Sometimes, Frank keeps telling him, you just have to accept facts even if you don’t like them.
Eddie pokes at Buck with his toes, insistent, until Buck huffs and turns to look at him, and then he says, “It wasn’t your fault either.”
This tight little frown, like Buck knows that, but. But.
“I had the other end of your line, Eddie.”
And it’s not I should have been better or I should have done something differently but it is I feel responsible, even if I shouldn’t. Eddie knows what that’s like too. Sometimes when they touch—elbows knocking, a hand on one shoulder, fingers brushing around a cup of coffee—he swears he can feel a static shock, like the lightning that connected them for half a second is still clinging to them, that bright line tying them together for the rest of their lives.
It’s a stupid thing to think. Their lives have been tied together since long before the lightning strike.
“You got me down,” Eddie reminds Buck. He doesn’t say you saved me because it feels too dramatic for a black eye, even if it did feel a little dramatic when the earthquake hit, brick shaking and crumbling under his foot, his line going taut when he dropped, the jutting facade of the building catching him just underneath his helmet. Thank god for goggles, even if they didn’t stop the blood vessels bursting with the impact.
If he closes his eyes, he can still hear his team yelling, Buck’s voice rising above them all: Eddie Eddie Eddie.
“Eddie…”
“Buck.”
A natural disaster happened, Buck. Back through time, a hand on Buck’s shoulder, chasing his gaze until he finally met Eddie’s eyes: there’s no one in the world I trust with my son more than you. The addendum it carries now—has always carried, even if Eddie never knew quite how to put it into words: there’s no one in the world I trust with myself more than you.
A minute, two, stretching out between them. Then Buck sighs and gives in. “Fine.”
He puts his phone on the armrest and sinks back against the couch, legs stretched out, staring up at the criss-cross of beams on the ceiling. His hand on Eddie’s ankle is warm and steady. If not for the ache around Eddie’s eye, it could be any day between calls, any good moment as easily as any bad one.
“Do you remember your first earthquake?” Eddie finds himself asking, curious. It’s the kind of question he should have asked before, he thinks, when his first earthquake cleaved a building in half and Buck spent the whole day trying to reassure him that his son was safe. But there was too much going on then, too many other things crowding his mind, and after that it just—never came up.
“On the job?” Buck sounds just as surprised by the question. “Um. There was one while I was at the academy—I remember that. Training was cancelled for the rest of the day and we helped with first aid and cleanup in the streets. There were a few small ones during my probationary year, too. Just tremors, you know? The biggest was a 5.6 I think. That was—” The slightest stumble, like his brain just caught up with where the words were going. “It was a week after Abby left LA and I remember being glad that she wasn’t there because it meant she didn’t have to deal with the crazy number of calls we got.”
It was only a small quake today. If Eddie hadn’t been hanging off the side of a building at the time, it wouldn’t have been a big deal at all.
It still isn’t a big deal.
That first earthquake—7.1, not even two weeks on the job—he came home with bruises that he doesn’t remember getting. There were harsh lines where his harness bit into his skin, splotches of blue-black over his knees, a particularly tender spot on his right elbow. He caught glimpses of them on Buck at the start of their next shift as well, the bruising from his harness even darker than Eddie’s, obvious enough that Chimney had whistled when he came into the locker room. Buck laughed it off, but Eddie remembers seeing the way he pressed his hands against the bruises later and knowing that he was thinking about the people they couldn’t save.
This isn’t like that. Everyone made it out alive today. The damage is less, even if it’s a little more visible. A little more personal. Gingerly, knowing it’s going to hurt, Eddie sets aside the ice pack and prods at his eye.
“How is it?” Buck asks, head turned on the back of the couch to watch him
The heat is gone, but Eddie can still feel the swelling and the sharp throb of bruising coming up under his fingertips. It’s going to be an ugly black and blue for a few days before it starts to yellow and fade.
“Better,” he says anyway. Ice and painkillers have dulled the pain, his headache like a tight band around his temple instead of the pickaxe it felt like earlier.
“That’s good.” Buck’s thumb is moving on his ankle now, an absent kind of caress. The shiver of electricity it sends up his leg is probably all in Eddie’s head. “Are you going to be okay driving home?”
They’ve still got a couple hours before they have to worry about that. Eddie would be lying if he said he was looking forward to LA traffic, or the shine of sun through the windshield, but his eye isn’t swollen shut and he hasn’t had any problems with his vision.
“I’ll be fine,” he reassures Buck. And he will be—he is—but. “Why don’t you come over? We can have breakfast, you can help me do housework…”
“Oh I see, you want me to do all your chores for you,” Buck says, but he’s smiling, like he can’t think of any better way to spend a Tuesday morning than helping Eddie fold his laundry.
“I’ll make you eggs benedict,” Eddie offers. “I think I’ve almost got the hang of the hollandaise sauce.”
Buck makes a considering sound. “Counter offer: you’re hurt, which means you get to sit at the table and judge me while I try to recreate Bobby’s baked eggs.”
“I heard that,” Bobby’s voice floats over to them. “I’m not giving you my recipe just because Eddie has a black eye, Buck.”
Eddie snickers at the caught-in-the-cookie-jar look on Buck’s face.
“Come on, Cap,” he wheedles, twisted around to give Bobby his best pleading look. “You told me the secret chilli ingredient!”
Bobby just shrugs, shuffling his paperwork like it might hide his amused smile. “The mystery is what makes it taste so good.”
Eddie is pretty sure they’ll be going home with the baked egg recipe tucked into Buck’s bag anyway. Just like he knows that Buck will make him breakfast and help with all the housework he’s been neglecting and, yeah, part of it will be the guilt he can’t shake, but most of it will be because he—
Because they’re family.
Because they care about each other.
They take care of each other.
“It’s okay,” he says to Buck, loud enough for Bobby to overhear. “I’m sure we can find a better recipe on the internet anyway.”
“Better?” Buck squawks incredulously, in almost the same tone that Bobby echoes, “the internet?”
It hurts to laugh, his cheek aching, the creases around his eye tugging at the bruising, but Eddie can’t help laughing anyway.
“Now you’re definitely not getting the recipe,” Bobby threatens, but Eddie isn’t worried.
And he’s right:
When they’re back at his house, bags lying in a heap together beside the couch, his eyes closed at the kitchen table with a fresh ice pack held against his eye, Buck pulls out eggs and an assortment of spices and Bobby’s recipe, neatly handwritten, on a piece of notepaper that was folded and tucked into his bag. Eddie isn’t watching, but he hears the way Buck moves around his kitchen, easy and comfortable, never having to ask to find everything he needs.
“I was never worried,” he says, and he hears the stillness when Buck pauses. He was scared, maybe, for half a second, his adrenaline spiking as the world shook around him, but. “You had the other end of my line, how could I be worried?”
It feels like a confession. More than the one it is. Eddie wants to look at Buck, but he can’t make himself open his eyes.
“You knew I’d get you down,” Buck says.
It’s not a question.
Eddie opens his eyes.
“I knew you’d make me breakfast too.”
Buck ducks his head when he smiles. It’s a mannerism that Eddie has seen a hundred times, in a hundred different conversations, and it shouldn’t mean anything now, but it feels like it does.
“So what am I going to do next?” Buck asks, his gaze steady now, halfway to a dare. It’s the kind that screams prove me right instead of prove me wrong.
Eddie smiles. “You’re going to wash the dishes, and make me take another dose of Advil, and then—then you’ll stay. Probably agree to take a nap on the couch, then fold all my laundry while I’m sleeping.”
Buck is still smiling, unembarrassed. “You seem pretty sure about that.”
“Yeah,” Eddie says, and his voice is as steady as his gaze. “I am.”
And he’s right: Buck stays.
Eddie wakes up forty-five minutes later to find all his laundry neatly folded on the dining table and Buck stretched out on the couch, snoring against a throw pillow. A blanket is falling off at his hips, pooling on the ground, and Eddie carefully picks it up and tucks it back in.
Then he leaves as quietly as he came, heading into the kitchen in search of a fresh ice pack for his eye.
#Eddie Diaz#Evan Buckley#911 Fox#fic#badthingshappenbingo#hi kristen I did not forget your prompt I hope you enjoy <3
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im curious about perfect porcelain?? what's that about? 👀👀
so unexpectedly popular! @callaplums & @eddiebabygirldiaz
this poor fic... it has fallen by the wayside with the other time-sensitive wips, but I do intend on getting back to it one day. it's a silly bthb square fill for "black eye" where Eddie fills in for a parents' softball team at Chris's school and has a bad time, but then he and Buck kiss so it's all good :3
The intensity of Buck’s distress makes Eddie feel even more embarrassed. He can’t believe he got himself into this stupid situation. “No one attacked me,” he says, holding his hands up in an attempt to calm Buck down. “I got hit in the face with a softball.”
“You–” The panic seems to drain out of Buck in an instant. “You what? How?”
“It’s so dumb,” Eddie grumbles to himself. He goes to cover his eyes and then winces as he remembers the bruises.
Buck makes a small, helpless noise – like seeing Eddie hurting is physically painful to him – and reaches for the bag on the counter. He steps right into Eddie’s space, standing practically between Eddie’s legs as he brings the peas up and gently holds them against Eddie’s eye. Eddie swallows thickly, suddenly feeling hot all over despite the bag of frozen vegetables slowly numbing his face.
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