cupidsdiaz
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- 9-1-1 (TV) (2)
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Summary
Eddie had pretty much become his lifeline. When they first met, Buck had been surviving off of rodents and whatever animals he could find. The poor vampire had practically dropped to his knees, told him that he smelt so sweet, and begged him for just a taste of his blood.
or . .
Vampire Buck and his best friend that acts as his bloodbag.
Title is mcr !
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“that’s so good, listen so well,” and then there’s a pause, like buck is nervous to speak, but does it anyway. “you’d make such a good wife, eds.”
how evan 'buck' buckley found out his boyfriend likes to be called his wife.
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No time to D-I-Y?
Try D-I-A-Z instead!
Experienced handyman in the LA area. No job too small. Competitive rates for excellent work. Call for a quote.
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Buck's timing is almost as bad as his luck.
With a fresh set of injuries that have him benched for the foreseeable future, all he has is his brand-new, empty 'fixer-upper' house. It's livable, but it's not exactly comfortable, and to get everyone off his back, he decides he needs to hire someone. Simple.
or
A Handyman Eddie AU
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The smoke creeps in further, but it’s not—it’s not shaped like smoke. It’s no longer formless, dark air, it’s—shaped.
Eddie doesn’t know how to describe it. Some of the smoke is curved into what looks like…tendrils. Arms with no hands.
He must be dreaming.
This is a nightmare. It’s not like the other nightmares he has, but it surely must be one. The shape keeps forming.
Eddie’s pulse is spiking, his heart beating like a hummingbird slamming against its cage trying to escape.
The form is morphing more, standing half a dozen inches taller than Eddie, and it feels like it’s—looking down at him.
Deep in the shadows, he sees something.
A flicker of blue. Two ponds lost amongst the swirls of midnight. It feels like they’re staring at him.
OR
Kinktober day eight: Monsterfucking
Series
- Part 8 of Kryptonian Fictober 2025
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Eddie can’t see him like this. That would be it. The cherry on top of this fucked up sundae, Buck will die of embarrassment if Eddie sees him cowering in a supply closet with a raging hard-on. And if he doesn’t die on the spot, he’ll eventually have to walk off a very, very high roof to spare himself the humiliation of living with this memory.
“Can I come in, bud?”
“Um, well, Eddie,” it comes out like a gasp, and Buck clenches his eyes shut, trying to will himself to a different location. Maybe home, or the desert, or the bottom of the ocean. Anything will do, really. “I’d–I’d really rather you didn’t.”
Eddie’s sigh is barely audible through the closed door, but Buck picks up on the drumming of his fingers against the solid wood. The sound is a comfort, even if Buck would rather be scrubbing his tongue with bleach than talking to Eddie right now.
“I need to check you out, Buck. We don’t know how much you took.”
Buck huffs, head falling back, thumping against the door. “Enough. I took enough.”
Or, Buck eats Viagra-laced muffins, and Eddie helps him out.
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Heat and vibration shook through him, his body a taut, quivering wire. He was so close now he could taste it, the sharpest edge of pleasure, Buck's imagined voice goading him toward it, right there right there right—
The sharp sound of metal on metal rang out in the room—a key fumbling in the front door.
Eddie pulled his sweats up so fast he nearly toppled off of the couch. He grabbed for the lube, hid it between the cushions, shot a hand out to grab his phone—and sent it flying across the room.
Oh god. Oh fuck.
The door opened and Eddie pulled a pillow over his lap—bit down on his lip. Hard.
He could feel his heartbeat up in his throat, on the back of his tongue. The vibrator was still buzzing inside of him.
“Hey, Eddie.” Buck called out, bright and cheerful as he walked around to the other side of the couch, sitting down next to Eddie, and oh god— “Whatcha watching?”
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It’s just them, standing too close together, in a kitchen neither of them recognize. “Sorry,” Buck swallows, gaze roving over Eddie. “I just don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t even know where to start. It’s like my brain has shut off, and nothing makes sense anymore.”
“It does that,” Eddie says lightly, “yours has been working overtime.”
Buck huffs, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Maybe it’s an inopportune time, but Eddie can’t help but feel lucky to see him this way. Unguarded. Real and alive and looking at Eddie like he’s hearing him for the first time. “You make sense, though,” he says, quietly, like a secret, “even when you’re not here, not speaking to me—you make sense.”
Eddie has always wanted to stay.