violetrot



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  1. Formula 1 RPF (1)

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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    There's a part of Eddie that's tempted to do something insane, something that'll absolutely fuck up this Eddie's day, if he's a real person with a real life that Eddie is just borrowing for the time being, and not an elaborate figment of his own subconscious. Something like hopping on a plane to Los Angeles, tracking down whatever version of Buck lives there now, seeing what happens.

    He wants to know if Buck would smile at him again, without the weight of history between them. If maybe, in a different world, he'd want Eddie.

    Or: in the aftermath of a deadly car accident, Eddie finds himself able to visit other lives he could have lived: other worlds, other possibilities, and maybe - just maybe - a chance to get things right.

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    09 Jun 2026

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  2. Public Bookmark 58

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    “It’s okay,” Buck says, voice muddled and sleep-heavy at last. He shifts, noses Eddie’s collarbone. “You’re here.”

    “Yeah. I’m here.”

    episode 9x15 coda

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    09 Jun 2026

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    Bookmarker's Notes

    “‘M gonna sweat all over you,” Buck mutters as the shaking intensifies.

    Eddie snorts and tightens his arms. “I’ve endured a lot worse for you, Buckley.”

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    "So," Pepa says without missing a beat, her crow's feet sinking their talons into the delicate skin around her eyes as she smiles beatifically at him. "You love him. What are you going to do about it?"

    Eddie's brakes come to a screeching halt again, proverbial smoke coming out of his ears. "I…hadn't got that far."

    Right. "I mean, uh, tell him…eventually?" Eddie guesses when Pepa doesn't respond to him and instead stares at him like he's just started speaking Pig Latin.

    "Ay," Pepa says in an exasperated little huff. "We used to have romance."

    Pepa teaches Eddie how to woo Buck. Buck doesn't quite get the picture.

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  4. Public Bookmark *

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    “LA Dispatch to Engine 118, be advised–”

    Eddie’s head snaps up.

    Maddie. Dispatch cadence – clean, clipped, controlled.

    Chimney’s eyes flick to the radio, then to Eddie, before he answers.

    “118, go ahead.”

    Maddie continues, steady as a metronome.

    “We have a reported MVC on the Fletcher Drive Bridge, repeat: multiple-vehicle collision. Units en route have visual confirmation of two cars at the scene.”

    Eddie’s pulse stutters. He leans forward without meaning to, the seatbelt tugging tight across his chest.

    Maddie keeps going, all professionalism, no tremor, until she hits the words that break.

    “One of the vehicles is… a Jeep that went over the railing into the water.”


    or

    The Jeep nde you didn’t know you needed.

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    09 Jun 2026

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    Bookmarker's Notes

    “I big-word you too,” Eddie says, smiling. “No way around it.”

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    Shrugging one shoulder far more casually than he possibly feels, Ilya says, “I like both. Is secret, okay?”

    “Okay,” Hollander says, voice cracking.

    He doesn’t say anything else. The air’s so heavy around them that it feels like being in the middle of a scrum, the weight and heat of all those bodies pressing down on you. Danger always feels like hockey; it’s the most dangerous thing Ilya knows, except for this. Everything dangerous in his life involves men’s bodies and just how close he can get to them. Closer than he probably should.

    A year after mysteriously dropping out of the 2009 draft, Shane Hollander is signed by the Boston Raiders, right behind Ilya Rozanov. Having the two biggest stars in the league on the same line is great for Boston — but playing alongside their worst rival was never exactly in Shane or Ilya's plans. Especially not when staying away from each other starts to feel just as impossible as getting along.

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    05 Feb 2026

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    Shane kisses like nobody else in the world. He’s so needy, so legitimately desperate, that it’s all Ilya can do to give, give, give to him. Nothing about it ever feels fake, performative, like Shane’s playing a role he thinks Ilya would like.
    .
    .

    “Is always worth the fucking wait with you, that is the problem,” Ilya says, his voice muffled as he buries his face in Shane’s neck. He bites down on Shane’s neck, sending a sharp pain-pleasure through him, then sucks at where he’d bitten.
    .
    .

    It’s the way he spits on the ice – disrespectful, nasty. Shane feels filthy.

    He closes his mouth and swallows it all.
    .
    .

    Ilya remembers his own mom’s stern voice. She hadn’t sounded anything like Yuna. Rather than dry disapproval, she would yell when she got frustrated at them, which was pretty often, given she was barely in her twenties and left alone with him and Alexei most of the time while they ran rabid. She wasn’t scary when she yelled, not like his dad – usually she’d just make Ilya feel sad, and he’d stop misbehaving because he wanted her to stop shoving her hands to the roots of her long curls and pacing around the room like she didn’t see a way out of it. After he calmed down, she’d calm down, too, and usually pick him up and hold him to her chest, where she was warm and he could hear her heartbeat; tell him that he was a good kid, call him her baby. Until the next time she yelled again.
    .
    .

    It hits Ilya in the fucking face like a high-sticking penalty. A bad one. A five-minute major; intent to harm.

    He wants to have Shane like this forever.

    Ilya's never wanted anything like that before in his whole life. And he can't have it.
    .
    .

    “I knocked your tooth out by being too horny,” Shane groans. This is immediately one of Ilya’s favourite sentences he’s ever heard in English.