Silverdancer
Recent bookmarks
-
Tags
Summary
“I can’t keep doing this, Eddie. Your sweatpants are in my dresser. You buy the right spices at the farmer’s market for my recipes. You wear the monstrosities I knit for you. You hold my kid’s hand when we’re crossing the street.”
Eddie’s lips are at the hinge of his jaw, like he’s testing the waters. It makes Buck brave enough to bring a numb hand up to one of the belt loops on Eddie’s darkwash jeans, thumbing there restlessly—sliding the tips of his fingers under the hem of his obsidian button-down. The skin-to-skin contact is all at once relieving.
“I think we’ve both known what we are for a while now,” Buck goads, hushed; tilting to arch his neck back against the wall, granting Eddie unlimited access, praying he takes the explicit invitation. “You’re my best friend. But this isn’t sustainable.”
or: Buck's sick of pretending.
Bookmarked by Silverdancer
21 Jun 2026
-
Tags
Summary
"What— what do you see?"
"I see," Eddie says, measured, careful, "someone who looks like he wanted somebody to see him like that."
Buck's whole body goes hot.
"And I'm trying to decide," Eddie continues, slower now, his breath heavier, "whether I'm allowed to be that somebody."
The hand on Buck's thigh has migrated upward. He notices it three seconds after it happens, his palm now resting flat against his own stomach where his shirt has rucked up, fingers splayed across the skin. The touch of his own hand on his own body in this context is sending a current up his spine that he is, evidently, helpless to stop.
"Eddie." Buck's voice cracks. "Are you— are you jerking off to my photo?"
The pause is brief but loaded, and when Eddie answers it’s barely recognizable, every word landing somewhere in the south of Buck's body with a measurable physical impact.
"You send me a picture like that, Buck. What am I supposed to do?"
Or,
Buck wins a boudoir photoshoot giveaway. Eddie reaps the benefits.Or,
Buck accidentally sends his nudes to Eddie.Bookmarked by Silverdancer
16 Jun 2026
-
Tags
Summary
The bruises mottle Buck’s skin, like paint splattered clumsily on a canvas. Except—the artist behind this, whoever they are, clearly went about it with intent and precision. A curator of hickeys; Buck’s pale thighs like the walls of a gallery. A thriving one, at that. It’s… a lot of marks.
Eddie wonders if it hurts. Well—he knows that part already, at least based on what Buck told him a few minutes ago. So instead, Eddie starts to wonder if it hurt. The procedure behind the photo; the act of being marked up so irrefutably.
Buck reacts to Eddie’s thumbs up message with a thumbs down.
Buck: I just accidentally sexted you dude
Don’t 👍👍👍👍 meOr: Eddie receives an unintended photo. Then he bites some thighs about it.
Bookmarked by Silverdancer
15 Jun 2026
-
Tags
Summary
"Are you married?”
Christopher coughed so hard he nearly dropped his phone.
Buck choked on nothing.
Eddie said, “No.”
Theo turned to Buck. “Why?”
Buck’s mouth opened.
Eddie got there first. “Because you have to ask someone before you marry them.”
Theo considered this.
Then he looked at Buck. “Did you ask?”
“No,” Buck said quickly.
Theo looked at Eddie. “Did you ask?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Christopher whispered, “Great question.”
Bookmarked by Silverdancer
05 Jun 2026
-
Tags
Summary
“Buck,” Eddie murmurs, and Buck loves the way his lips curl around the word—Buck, like he’s saying the name of a lover. His name’s always been safe in Eddie’s mouth. “Buck.”
“What’d you want?” Buck asks, helpless to keep his gaze from darting to Eddie’s lips. Shiny and pink, that scar on his lips the bane of Buck’s fucking existence. He’s dangerously close to dipping down and just biting it.
“You really have to ask?” Eddie says, high and breathless. “All these years and you still have to ask?” His eyes are so, so clear, not the barest hint of a doubt in them. This is a man that knows what he wants, and Buck is coming undone—every thread that keeps him whole unravelling with every breath.
“Eddie,” Buck whispers.
“How long are you gonna make me wait?” Eddie tugs on his curls again, and Buck’s elbows buckle, putting him an inch away from Eddie’s lips. An inch. “How many years until I can put a ring on it, baby?”
or, the start of forever.
Bookmarked by Silverdancer
24 May 2026