MaryElizabeth2602
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Dinner's ready, just pop it in the oven. Dessert's in the bedroom ;)
A silly scribble of a winking emoji shouldn't make his pulse quicken like this– they've been together long enough that he knows exactly what Buck's capable of planning– but heat pools low in his belly anyway. He lifts the foil to find his favorite pasta, still warm in the oven Buck left on low. His stomach growls, but the promise of what's waiting down the hall makes food suddenly seem less urgent.
Ever since Eddie was a child, his mother always scolded him for eating dessert before dinner. It was a bad habit.
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or; Eddie comes home and is greeted with a sleeping Buck and a full-course meal. one in the same.
Bookmarked by MaryElizabeth2602
15 Jun 2026
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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 MaryElizabeth2602
15 Jun 2026
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"What the hell are you doing, Buck?! You could have been killed!" Eddie roared, his voice cracking with the sheer terror of almost losing him. He gripped Buck's shoulders, shaking him slightly to force him to look at him. "Look at me! What is wrong with you?!"
But the anger died instantly in Eddie’s throat.
Buck wasn't fighting back or apologising. Instead, his head rolled back slightly, his blue eyes glassy, unfocused, and swimming with a terrifying vacancy. His lips were trembling, and as Eddie watched, a low, broken whimper escaped Buck's throat—a soft sound of absolute distress that an Omega should never make in the middle of a chaotic environment.
Buck let Tommy be his heat partner. Something went really, really wrong.
Series
- Part 3 of Sunny's Alpha!Eddie/Omega!Buck Week 2026
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- English
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Bookmarked by MaryElizabeth2602
13 Jun 2026
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“What a conundrum,” Chim says. “Wherever will you find an alpha you trust? Who wants to be around you all the time, to the point of texting my wife about why your location is turned off. It’s a real mystery.”
Eddie’s vision goes a little black at the edges, and his hearing dissolves into a shrill ringing.
Buck’s voice cuts through the noise. “Eddie?” he asks. “I- what- He wouldn’t-”
“He would,” Eddie says without thinking.
That pit in his stomach feels like it’s grown into a watermelon. They’re all going to think that he only wants to spend a heat with Buck because he’s an omega. Buck’s going to think it—he’s going to look at Eddie, and soon he’s going to be able to scent him, and there won’t be any hiding it. Eddie’s going to ruin everything.
or; buck presents as an omega after new mexico. eddie, with newly realized feelings, offers to help him through his first heat. platonically
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Bookmarked by MaryElizabeth2602
11 Jun 2026
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“Alright,” Eddie shrugs, laissez-faire. He pulls Buck’s plate to the center of the table; pushes his own forward in kind. Then he begins a drawn-out circus routine of plucking an olive at a time up and out of the bowl and plopping them onto their respective dishes, one by one.
The delicate, repetitive movement of Eddie’s pinched fingers reminds Buck of picking the petals off of flowers. He loves me. He loves me not. He love—
An olive hits him square in the forehead.
“There,” Eddie says, resolute, as the pitted projectile tumbles to the ground at Buck’s feet. “Equal treatment.”
Or: Buck, Eddie, and the olive theory. Well, in theory.
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- English
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Bookmarked by MaryElizabeth2602
11 Jun 2026