Havetoloveurself
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“That’s it,” Eddie said sternly, turning the lid on the tube and pulling it off. He squeezed the tube from the bottom, dotting a pea sized amount on his finger. “Open up.”
Buck’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?”
“Open. Up.” Eddie repeated, stressing each word.
OR; Buck has a toothache. Eddie takes care of it, and then Eddie gets taken care of - in more ways than one.
Bookmarked by Havetoloveurself
30 Sep 2026
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"Was the rest of it right?” Buck dares to ask. “Because, Eddie, if he’s right, if - -”
Eddie grabs the paper towel from Buck’s grasp, pressing it to the cut. “If the magic fortune-telling conman correctly guessed that your unrequited gay crush isn’t so unrequited, then what, Buck? You think we’d fall in love? Happily ever after? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we don’t get those. I don’t get those. And I’m not - - I don’t - - I’m straight.”
Or, Buck and Eddie stumble upon a tarot reader. He's a little too on the nose for Eddie's comfort.
Bookmarked by Havetoloveurself
29 Sep 2026
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“Good,” he grunts, in an effort to convey any of this to Buck, who is being a real trouper about Eddie snorting his pheromones. “You make everything good."
Buck chuckles. “I do?”
“Mhm. You make it - - still,” he manages — tries his best to find the words to explain. “Quiet.”
“Oh,” Buck breathes. A punched-out exhale. “I do?”
Or, Eddie prescribes himself one (1) dose of Buck Buckley oxytocin after a long, long day.
Series
- Part 9 of word prompts
Bookmarked by Havetoloveurself
29 Sep 2026
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Summary
Every unspoken thing between them has a shape, and Eddie's finally ready to name it.
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And it’s early, the sunlight soft as it gilds Buck’s unshaven cheeks and Buck’s bare chest. Eddie chases it across his skin, sitting cross-legged beside Buck on the bed after returning from using the bathroom. Chris is still asleep, and they have the day off, and Eddie just . . . wants. He wants Buck in his bed, and in his kitchen, and in his car. He wants their names on legal papers, and the mortgage, and Chris’s school forms. He recognizes the shape of Buck’s affection in the curve of his mouth, the color of it in his eyes, the way it sounds on his tongue when he says, “Morning, Eds.” He wants to claim it. He wants it to be his.
Why this morning and not any other doesn’t matter. It only matters that it’s here, and now, and he’s ready. He’s ready.
Bookmarked by Havetoloveurself
27 Sep 2026
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“You could touch me?” Buck says, his smile is crooked and charming but a little nervous too. He pushes his face further into the cushions like he’s trying to slip through and hide beneath the fabric. Eddie has never wanted to touch someone more, and Buck is even offering, but it feels forbidden to act on it, like he’s on some prank show where the presenter will jump out and laugh at Eddie for ever thinking he could have something he wanted without shame and that sick feeling in his stomach following behind.
But Buck persists, shifting closer, “If you want, you could, wh-whenever you want, I’d like it.”
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Or
Five times Buck and Eddie touch platonically plus one time they realise it's not platonic at all.
Bookmarked by Havetoloveurself
23 Sep 2026