KitKat_98
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Summary
Buck tells Eddie he has an OF.
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Eddie doubled over with a groan, his magic starting to hurt the more he held it back. It was like being stabbed over and over again. He turned to look one more time, hoping it had all just been a dream and he was going to wake up any moment. His magic burned through him, clawing its way to the surface. Eddie clutched his stomach as if that was going to help with the pain.
The moment his eyes found Bucks again he knew there was no holding back anymore. Grief took over, anguish and despair flooding his body.
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“So…” he drags out the word, long and languid, taking another pull from his bottle. Pushes harder. “That’d be okay with you?”
“What would?”
“If I… you know, brought someone here?” Buck drapes his arm over the back of the couch, expectant. Eager for Eddie’s answer.
Eddie just shrugs.
So Buck shoves. “Maybe we need to make some rules?”
“Rules?” Now Eddie’s frowning.
“Y-yeah. Or, like, a system. For… guests?”
Eddie’s eyes narrow in confusion and then widen. He chokes a little, coughs, and when he speaks, his voice has dropped an octave, husky at the edges. “What’d you have in mind?”
or: Buck and Eddie implement a system for sexiling each other. Except it only works if you respect the system.
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It’s not Buck’s fault that he hasn’t stopped running since the day he ran from Hershey and never went back.
It’s not Buck’s fault that the only way Eddie knows how to handle the overwhelming-ness of his stupidly loving heart is to treat Buck like he treats Christopher - as someone to provide for, to look after, to dote on.
It’s not Buck’s fault that the lightning hit him, and it’s not his fault that he died for three minutes and seventeen seconds, and it’s not his fault that when he first wakes up, he looks at Eddie like Eddie is a ghost and Buck will never be able to touch him again.
Which he doesn’t, anyway. Touch him, that is. Not like he used to.
OR
Buck is doing just fine after getting hit by lightning until he's not. Eddie's there to help pick up all of the pieces, except they have sharp edges and all they do is hurt.
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“My dick is gone,” Eddie says, hushed but frantic.
Buck splutters, wide unblinking eyes still glued to Eddie’s crotch, eyebrows knit together harshly and dragging high on his forehead. Eddie would laugh at his ridiculous face if he didn’t feel like he was going to throw up. “It’s not gone, you have a—”
“Don’t say it,” Eddie warns weakly.
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Eddie wakes up with the wrong equipment. Buck is actually pretty normal about it, until he isn't.- Language:
- English
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Bookmarked by KitKat_98
24 Sep 2025