backspaceaggression
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Summary
Eddie groans.
A sharp, harsh cough tears itself from his throat, his lungs spasming and flames licking their way along his ribcage.
Confusion twists its way through his body.Slowly, Eddie peels his eyes open.
His vision is blurred and unfocused, the edges hazy. His stomach rolls. Nausea churns through him, and Eddie swallows the bile rising in his throat. Blinking back the haze before his eyes, Eddie tries to make sense of where he is.
***
OR The hours before Eddie was found...
A 9x13 Coda.
Bookmarked by backspaceaggression
19 Mar 2026
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"Spit or swallow, Buck," Eddie smirks, and Buck nearly chokes on his water. He thinks some of it leaks out of the corner of his mouth, but he's quick to wipe it away with the back of his hand.
OR
Buck doesn't believe in spit takes.
Bookmarked by backspaceaggression
19 Mar 2026
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Oh, alright, cool.
Cool, cool, cool. Neat.
That is a photograph of Eddie Diaz's dick.
It's just there. On the screen. In his hand. In high resolution. His best friend’s dick is in his hand. Well, wait — the photo. The photo of the penis is in his hand. Eddie’s dick isn’t in his hand. That would be absurd.
It’s just a penis. Buck has one of those.
So does Eddie, apparently and it’s… Buck has seen it, absorbed it, and every thought he's ever had has been replaced by a high-pitched tone and the image in front of him, which is — and this is the last coherent observation he'll produce for the foreseeable future —
Big.
Genuinely, impressively big.
Buck closes out of the photo and locks the phone so hard he's surprised it doesn't crack in half.
"Maddie say anything?" Eddie asks.
"Yep," Buck squeaks. Like a mouse. A giant, shocked mouse that has just seen its best friend’s erect dick.
"You okay?"
"Great. Y-yep. So great. I-I'm just really— the sunset was really— it's very— yep."
"It’s yep?"
"Uh-huh. Very yep."
Or,
Stumbling upon your straight best friends' nudes is fine. Buck is fine. Everything is fine.- Language:
- English
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Bookmarked by backspaceaggression
17 Mar 2026
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He feels like shit when he's hungry, and he plays better when he's empty. The cold air doesn't touch him as much. The floodlights turn silvery-soft.
And he likes eating. Keeps his hands busy, mouth busy, mind busy. Something to chew through, putty in the ears.
Go until he can't anymore. Cycle it back out. Be ready.--
OR: Buck's had on-again, off-again bulimia since he was 14.
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Title from Psychic Friend's "We Do Not Belong".
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- English
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Bookmarked by backspaceaggression
09 Mar 2026
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a series of short one-shots about married buddie inspired by different videos
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- 7,523
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- 4
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- 47
Bookmarked by backspaceaggression
13 Feb 2026