eilirrae



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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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    02 Jul 2026

  2. Public Bookmark 77

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    fulgurate: to flash or dart with sudden brilliance. the act or process of flashing like lightning

    Before Buck was struck by lightning, he was a beta.

    When he leaves the hospital, he's an alpha, and he's mated.

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    01 Jul 2026

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    No. Whatever it is, no. Eddie would like Buck to stop chasing whatever that thing is. Would like to grab the thought out of Buck’s concussed head and throw it out a window.

    Buck’s face drops into something serious, eyes wide. “You called me baby.”

    There it is. Out the window it did not go.

    “No, I didn’t,” Eddie says.

    Very smooth. Convincing.

    “You did.” Buck points at him, floppy and triumphant. “At the— the thing. With the— you said it. You called me baby.”

    “I didn’t say that.”

    “Eddie.” Buck is delighted. “I heard you. I was concussed, not deaf.”

    “I didn’t call you baby,” Eddie scoffs. “I called you a baby. Because you got a bump on the head and were crying about it.”

    “That’s not—” Buck starts.

    “You were being a baby,” Eddie continues, standing now, because a moving target is harder to hit. “I’m gonna go tell the others you’re awake.”

    “Eddie.”

    “Rest your head, bud.”

    Or,
    Eddie calls Buck baby by accident.

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    29 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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    22 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 👍👍👍👍 me

    Or: Eddie receives an unintended photo. Then he bites some thighs about it.

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    19 Jun 2026