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#but I love his bastard energy
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Cranko's Onegin (Stuttgart Ballet)
Friedemann Vogel as Onegin
Rejecting Tatiana
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synodic-lupine · 9 months
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Nine and Ten's arcs go hand in hand as a collectively great PTSD narrative imo. I think Ten's wishy-washiness about relationships and inability to fully open up to Rose is often characterized as plain old fear of commitment yet I see that as a progression to another presentation of PTSD. When we first meet Nine, he seems like he's halfway to planning on how to get himself killed. He meets Rose, he heals, he changes, he grows. Then he regenerates into someone with a desire to live and the seeming capacity to just be happy. At the same time, he regenerated for and because of Rose. Recovery that hinges on one person is a tricky thing. When you're with that person it can feel like there's no more work to be done, like you're totally 'fixed'. Every moment with that person feels like the best thing in the world... which makes it significantly harder to open up about anything trauma related. When you're feeling high on a person's presence why would you ever want to think about the bad things? THEN because he finally properly wants to live, The Doctor gets hit with the realization that living a full life means losing Rose in the end and it's downright intolerable to him. It makes him push and pull and act like a bastard sometimes. We get glimpses of who he is without her in the moments when she's threatened. He loses his damn mind any time she's threatened- he gets that crazed look akin to Nine in Dalek more than anything. This is also in contrast to how Nine used to react to Rose being threatened, where he used to still be able to keep it reined in. THEN... he loses her for real and he backslides majorly. We see the effects in Turn Left, that if Donna hadn't been there he would have died right after saying goodbye to Rose. He's more or less back where he started as Nine in the beginning of series one, looking for a way to die. He lives though, and has to accept that no, he's not perfectly recovered and keep on working on it. He opens up about things in ways we saw him struggle to in series 2. Though he's more callous in series 3 and 4, he seems to struggle more with relating to humans, his bastardous tendencies pop up more. He's also a freaking disaster man in series 4 with the number of times he offers or tries to give up his life for others. He DOES make recovery progress through series 3 and 4, just is slow like in real life. All of that makes JE make sense to me in that this is a man who is experiencing turbo PTSD triggering. He pushes everyone away all at once, because maybe being alone will hurt less than losing people after all. Even after all that in the end when he is dying he says he doesn't want to go. He was born into wanting to live and be happy so of course he doesn't want to go.
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enchantedlantern · 1 year
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Victor Frankenstein is only 19 when he makes the creature and I think that context explains a lot about him actually
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akai-anna · 6 months
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today i reached the miraculous midair walk case. and just. kaito's smug face. SHINICHI'S SMUG FACE. THE MAGICAL FEEL OF IT. THE WHOLE PART WHERE THEY ARE TAlkING ON JIROKICHI'S BIKE. you don't understand how much i love this case.
also the pure bastard energy. the whole talk about the sky and ocean and reflections. DREAMS. both of them just being so comfortable and themselves around one another? and then BASTARD ENERGY INTENSIFYING AS KAITO SENDS SHINICHI CAREENING IN THE SIDECAR. SHINICHI SETTING FIRE TO THE LEAKING FUEL. PURE FCKIN BASTARD ENERGY, I LOVE THEM YOUR HONOUR. seeing kaito's panic. shinichi talking about his dream as he looks at ran...
uuurgh my heart, your honour, i love this case.
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ferretwhomst · 6 months
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i have such a clear dialogue in my head for the partners in crime au from around the beginning of scrooge and glomgold's partnership
[BARGES INTO ROOM] "FLINTY! there you are! been meanin to ask you, could you teach me how to do an evil laugh-"
"AAAAHAHAHAHAHAAA"
"YES, exactly like that"
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clownfuckerfridays · 2 years
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hey tmnt fans... I’m new to tmnt and I gotta know: why does donnie have eyebrows in rottmnt but nobody else does?? does he draw those on?? ...on top of the mask??? genuine question here I am so curious
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autumnfangirler · 7 months
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got tagged by @m3k-fhr and @thecryptidenthusiast to use this picrew! this picrew was so cute so of course i did all of my steps and their puppets
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tagging @silvery-bluish @euelios and @gonesoft-ish if any of you are interested?
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kiwikipedia · 1 year
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Li Shuwen chews ice when he can. He also crunches on hard candies, nuts and seeds, and anything else that normally people take time to eat and don’t just crack open with their teeth, but he enjoys ice the most because of the way it cracks and splinters between his teeth.
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marinehero-a · 1 year
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thinking about garp and thinking about how garp rly did just pick up a couple of strays (koby and helmeppo) and how he trained them and likely (to an extent) cared for them and how they rose through ranks and thinks about how that what was he wanted for luffy and ace and thinks ab—
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ruins-and-rewritez · 1 year
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Kaz Brekker
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galvatronsthighs · 1 year
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@malenkiandromeda
Sorry this is a side-blog so I can't reply/send asks
BUT I AM ALWAYS HAPPY TO SEE OTHERS GET INTERESTED IN THIS DUMB DYNAMIC I LOVE!
Roddy and Galvs had a lot of parallels I feel and don't often see them pointed out, combined with the fact Galvatron saw this little Autobot runt show up inside Unicron but still wanted to reach out against their 'common enemy' gets me feeling. Plus the fact this "no-name runt" actually did it and subdued Unicron? Fucking superb you funky little fire car!
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backwzzds · 9 months
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Toji getting out jail and showing us some appreciation 🙈🙈
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ daddy’s home, toji fushiguro (nsfw)
omg bc prison bf!toji would be something interesting.
the story would be that before prison, toji was the ORIGINAL scammer. all these mfs his sons forreal. of course with being a hired professional hitman, it came with its financial perks, all of which he’d used to spoil his pretty little princess.
you lived comfortably well. you’d known toji since he was just a bum scrounging for any type of work, so you actually got to see the come up frfr. though you’ve always loved him from the start (even when he was broke), he was nearly 10 years older than you. just in your early twenties, you always told him—you did not deserve any type of struggle love. and a struggle life toji lived indeed. you assured him that if he was really about you the way he always swore he was—he’d do whatever he could to support for you.
and support for you he did!
it wasn’t anything about being a gold digger—you just had standards. toji chased after you for years and you loved it—but you knew you deserved better when he couldn’t even take care of himself. by the graces of whoever allowed him to stumble upon a secret job that could land him 1 mil cash—500 upfront as a deposit and the rest later—toji was yours the moment he proved to you he could take care of you indefinitely.
ass ironic as this sounds, he was actually arrested on false charges. the nature of the charges were true on everything—but the actual person they were accusing him of executing and murdering, he simply did not do. the courts didn’t care though, they just needed someone to hang for it and make an example out of them. that led to toji being sentenced to life in prison.
but thanks to his crooked ass lawyer, the piece of shit was out in 6 years.
you nervously tapped your acrylic nails on the pink wrap of your car as you leaned against the passenger side of the door. it seemed as if today was release day for a few other prisoners, seeing as a group of men walked out with plastic bags, all while staring you down. your arms remained crossed over your fat tits barely being able to breathe in the baby tee you wore to accompany your long flowy skirt as you awaited for your own man to re-enter the world again.
the minute another person leaves the building, your eyes meet with the familiar man’s. it was almost as if your energy was instantly drawn to his, because you immediately recognized him off the bat. toji is blown away by your beauty. you were always fine, but damn, watching you outside of a bulletproof plexi glass was top tier when he finally got to see your fuller ass and pudgy stomach in person again.
the second he’s in your vicinity again, instead of doing the normal thing like hugging him—you slapped the shit out of him.
“ow’!” toji groans. “fuck was that for?!” the old man rubs the spot you hit him in, giving you a fearful look. toji didn’t fear anyone or anything, but you had to be at the top of that list, especially when you were upset.
you give him a knowing look with your hands on your hips. toji rolls his eyes and grips your waist, “tch, i told ya i didn’t do that shit!” he groaned, referencing the one crime he was actually innocent for. “but with all the trouble that dead bastard put me through, wish it was me.”
you mirror his previous actions and do a double take in his physique. you weren’t the only one who got finer. toji’s waist got smaller—probably from starving himself like you told the fucker not to—but his build was more muscular, yet lean. he had an unimaginable number of new tattoos hidden under his normal clothes, and you couldn’t even think about what more laid hidden beneath his thick jeans.
toji fully notices your gawking eyes and gives you a cocky smirk with the scar on his lip fully rising. “miss me mama?” a smile can’t help but form on your own lips as you embrace him in a tight hug. not feeling the love enough, toji wraps his arms underneath you, fully lifting you from the ground. with your legs now around his waist, you were finally face to face with the man of your life.
toji leans into you and pecks your lip ever so lightly. with the sun in his view, he still got the best look of just how perfect you really were. “i missed ya,” he says so low, you barely catch it. “missed ya so much. went crazy dozens of times from you not being with me.”
it was strange for toji to be so vulnerable. but his time under made him realize just how ungrateful he really was for all the great things in his life. how ungrateful he really was for you. he vowed that when he did get out—if ever—he wouldn’t waste a minute without reminding you how he felt about his little girl.
with a proud smile on your face, you run your manicured thumb over the callous of his aging skin. you kiss the small scars there and then his lips. snuggling your head in his neck, you whisper, “let’s go home daddy.”
and that was how you ended up here, face down and ass up into your own mattress.
“you gonna tell daddy you missed him yet?” toji grunted while thrusting in and out of you. the ripples of your fat ass had him in a trance. “been almost seven years since i been in this pretty pussy’a yours. think i deserve at least that, baby.”
you whine into your pillow, drool pooling from the sides of your mouth. you wanted to play stubborn; let toji know that if he ever went to jail for something so stupid again, he wasn’t gonna see you or your pussy he loved so much.
your silence results in a hard slap to your ass. “ahh!” you yelp out, leaning forward into your white duvet. with another harsh smack and then the smooth rubbing of his large hand, toji smirked at the reddening imprint forming on the terrain of your pretty brown ass. “this ain’t about you!” you can’t help but seethe out to his previous statement. your voice is muffled by the fluff of your pillow, “i suffered these last seven years. not you.”
toji slows in his movements. you were so right. he knew how much you longed for him. your big hunky man that walked the streets with you 24/7 was no longer by your side to protect you like he usually did. he left you open. he left you vulnerable. though he’s had his people, geto and gojo watching over you, it wasn’t enough, you constantly slept in fear. you walked in fear. you lived in fear.
you didn’t know why, but suddenly all the emotion you felt in the past seven years came flooding to you. tears flowed from your eyes and you were crying. but from the pulsing grip your pussy had around his dick, toji knew you wanted more.
“look at me,” toji’s voice is muffled. when you made no effort to move, too ashamed to rven be crying at a time like this, toji pulls out of you and softly grabs you by the hips, turning you over so that your back was no against the mattress and you were facing him.
swiftly, the older man slides back into you, but this time moves inside you with more care. toji’s body is so close to yours, your hard nipples are brushing against his own with every thrust he makes.
“‘m sorry,” toji whispers with every rut into you. “daddy’s so sorry baby. didn’t mean to abandon you the way i did.” you could hear the genuineness in his tone as he stops fucking you, but begins to make love to you. “can’t imagine how scared you must’a been these past few years. haven’t been taking care of you the way i promised all those years ago.”
more tears flow from your eyes as toji brings you to your building orgasm slowly. “know you can’t forgive me for being so stupid ‘n careless now. ‘s gonna take some time. i know that. but jus’ lemme in again mama. let daddy back into your heart ‘n i promise i’ll take acre of you again.”
“daddy,” you sob. “‘m close,” is the only words that could leave your mouth. “don’t leave me, please. ‘m so close.” you were begging to cum, but deep down toji knew you were also begging him to stay.
toji brings his hand down to your pretty pussy and rubs at your clit as his lips engulf in yours. with just a few touches, you were creaming over his fingers and crying into his mouth.
“never gonna leave you again, mama. daddy’s home now.”
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bluetimeombre · 3 months
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✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ And I wouldn't marry me, either.
You were Azriel's mate, but it took losing you three times for him to realise.
[this is long. i'm talking 5k words long so i've split it into two parts. anyway, azriel is the best bat boy and no i won't hear anyone out. i'm so excited to write for him and hope you enjoy. it's very angsty but that's what i love. i hope i can write more for him and maybe other characters if you like. it's been a while since i've actually read the series so if any information is wrong, do let me know. also it was my first time using the term y/n and yes, i cringed NOT PROOF READ... enjoy]
warnings: references to sexual assault and references to suicide. nothing explicit but please don't read if this is sensitive to you.
Part 2 soon…
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✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
The first, was the worst...
You were Rhys's half sister, the bastard daughter of his father. But when your mother had died giving birth to you, Rhysand's mother took you in and raised you with your brother and sister. You were so little and adorable that your sister loved you at once. Rhys did to, at some point of your life, you were sure he actually cared about you.
But when his mother and sister had died, his eyes shifted, he started to look at you with contempt. After all, you were only his half-sister. The worst half. He only kept you around because it's what his mother would have wanted.
And because there was no way Cassian and Azriel would ever let anything happen to you.
Besides, Rhysand knew when to use you.
Although Azriel was his spymaster, you were pretty good at staying swift-footed too. And you were frankly, very terrifying when you wanted to be.
You tread with power through the war camps, all of them looking at you as you went. All of their gazes wrecked with a predatory gaze. They either wanted to have their way with you, or kill you. Or both.
Rhys had said you could handle it, it was only supposed to be a check in. Cassian hadn't liked it, neither had Mor but it was Azriel who had almost- and for the first time- disobeyed his high lord to accompany you. But no, your brother wanted you to do this alone, so alone you would.
Just to show him you could.
'I can come with you,' Azriel had said, standing in your room as you tied your boots up. 'I won't even have to be seen.' At that, his shadows wrapped up your calf.
You smiled at them, as if they were his own pet. 'I'll manage just fine. Besides, i'm sure that's what Rhys wants, me needing a man.'
It had done nothing to calm your friend. The worry was still stuck between his brows, marring his handsome features. You'd held his cheeks, your wings hiding the two of you. His large ones (enough to swallow the both of you) over-lapped yours.
It was the last time you'd feel your wings.
The war camp wasn't as easy as you'd hoped. It was terror and horror in a place. You'd been to the court of nightmares, you'd gone to the slaughter of the spring court after they killed your family. But this, this was hell of another kind.
You had no idea how many days you'd been locked up, wrists bound in chains and hanging from the cell roof above you. Blood rolled down your arms from the force you'd tried to use to get them out. Your eye was swollen shut and your body trembled in pain.
All because they wanted to know your brothers secrets, and you wouldn't budge.
Your check was only supposed to be a day, but you were sure it had been longer. Days of endless pain and torture. Your uniform hung in rags of stripped material, your hair matted with blood and hiding your face.
You'd used the last of your energy to keep your walls up. You weren't anyone's mate, you didn't have anyone on the other end trying to feel what you felt. But should Rhys come looking (though you doubted it) you didn't want him to feel it. You didn't want anyone in your mind.
The gates opened with a sickening clash.
One of the Illyrian's knelt in front of you, his wings hiding those coming in behind you. 'Listen sweetheart. I don't want to make this any harder than it's about to get. All you have to do is tell us your brother's hide outs.'
You grit your teeth, staring down at the ground.
'So loyal, to a man who doesn't care if you live or die.'
Suddenly, your wings twitched as hands grasped them. Brute hands, the sort you wouldn't want touching any part of you.
Fear spiked in you, horror twisting your gut. 'What are you doing?'
'I told you I didn't want to get things messier, darling.'
You whipped your head from side to side, trying and failing to get a look at the assailants behind you. Your wings were being held apart, no matter how hard you tried to bat them away. You knew the sort of people they were, and what they did to girls like you.
That's when the begging started. 'No, no please. Anything. I'll do anything! Beat me, kill me, rape me, not my wings, please!'
'Anything?' the bastard asked, tongue poking out from his lips. 'Then tell me where your lord's hideouts are?'
You should betray him, you thought. He would never lose his wings for you. Perhaps it was stubbornness that kept you from, or maybe you were clinging to the last bit of love you want from him.
The bastard scoffed, 'anything, she says. Your brother has his own bitch wrapped around his finger.'
That's when they started hacking at your wings.
Your screams tore through your throat, blood spitting and dripping down your chin. Tears soon joined when they hacked away at the bone, the membrane, the flesh of it all. The three of them worked through your screams and your tears and your pain, tearing and cutting at it like it was nothing more than paper.
Not your whole life.
Let them hear you. You hoped your brother heard you, you hoped all and every court heard the pain.
Eventually, even you couldn't keep screaming. The only sound was the hacking away at your wings and the drops of blood.
'Now look at these beauties. I've got a perfect spot on my wall for these.'
They left you after that. There wasn't much more damage they could do. It already felt like they'd destroyed your life. You had never really thought about your wings, they were just part of you, as much as your wit or hair was. But they'd took it and now, you felt empty. Never would you fly with Azriel again, or use your wings to smack Cassian over the head.
Rhys, your dear brother, had took that from you.
The days blended in together after that. You were pooled in your own tears and blood, vomiting up anything they forced down your throat. No, they'd made it very clear they didn't want you dead. They just took pride in making it feel like you were.
At some point, you'd stopped reacting to the gate opening. You let them do whatever they wanted with you. Your wrists were still chained, arms still hanging up, your clothes hanging on your thin body in strips of dirt.
'No...' you heard a mumble. 'What have they done to you?'
Suddenly, the chains gave way and you lurched forward, with no strength to catch you. Luckily, you didn't have to, as strong and warm arms pulled you into his chest.
'Hey, wake up, look at me, dammit.'
Azriel.
You'd know the voice in the darkest days, in the pit of your worst nightmare you'd know.
You try to speak but your head's heavy, your lips are stone and your arms can't lift to hold onto him. You're exhausted, you're dying. The only thing you could do use all your strength to try to open your eyes.
'Please, please, look at me. You have to look at me,'
You were trying, you wanted to tell hm, snap at him, but you couldn't.
You felt Azriel shake, or maybe you were. Then, there was wet drops landing on your cheeks- you flinched.
'I'm sorry, i'm sorry. Rhys! Rhys! hurry up, please!' he was screaming. You'd never heard him scream before.
You heard the rush of feet at the cell doors, you knew it was your brother. You knew it from the presence of him, from the shuffling of feet and chocked sob. Your brother didn't cry, least of all for you.
'Her wings, oh mother, her wings,' said Azriel, his voice barley above that of a whisper.
Your wings. You didn't need reminding. They were gone, long and far gone. You were without a part of you, the very part of your soul that loved to be free. Never would you watch the stars up close or fly over everyone. Never race Cassian or make jokes with Az.
No, this would destroy you.
'y/n,' your half-brother called. 'No, y/n. Can you hear me?'
Your lips parted, mumbling. 'Hurts.'
Azriel's grip on you tightened. 'I know, we're gonna get you out of here, just hold on for me.'
You wanted to tell him you would hold on, you'd always need to hold on to him. That, no matter what he asks, you'd do it. To kill, to live, to breathe, to die.
And that's when it clicked. Amongst all the pain and the doubt. In your blood soaked clothes. In the fear you wouldn't make it, there was a tug. Weak and one-sided, but there. You knew you'd be safe with Azriel, knew you would always be with him.
Mate.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
The pain subsided to a dull ache, there and beating but not excruciating. You were warm and covered in a soft material. Nothing like the cell you'd been kept in. Your fingertips sunk into something soft- a bed. Your bed. It was familiar in its lavender scent to you and the silk wrapped around you gave you some semblance of warmth.
Your wings.
Even coming to consciousness was difficult. You were exhausted but light, without the weight of wings holding you down. You'd never realised how much you needed to feel that weight, to feel pulled down in order to be free.
Gone, all gone.
Your hand twitches around something cold, a shadow holding your hand, creeping up your side.
'You're awake, thank the couldron.'
It wasn't Azriel, master of the shadows. It wasn't your mate. Mate. The word replayed like a terrible song in your mind.
How dare the mother do this to Az. How dare he- nothing but loyal and kind- get stuck with a person made in darkness, who bled shadows, who's heart was so full of hate there wasn't room for love. They'd cursed Az, with you.
But luckily it wasn't him, it was Rhysand.
'It really happened,' you whispered, voice hurting from the screams.
He sighed. 'I'm sorry, i'm so sorry. We-we thought you weren't going to make it, you'd lost so much blood.'
In spite of the pain in your shoulders, you made a shift, turning from him as he ranted on about your condition.
'y/n... sister, please,' he said. He'd never called you sister before. He'd always been content to treat you just like you worked for him.
'Leave me alone.' you couldn't bare to look at him, couldn't bare to face him. The shadows at your hand grew heavier, as if more were piling on. You stretched your fingers away from them, trying to get them off you.
'Are you in any pain?' asked Rhys.
'Get out,' you mumbled.
The end of your bed dipped where Rhys settled, hand splayed on the covers, begging for your hand. 'y/n.'
'Get out!' you snapped, body tense and straining. You felt your wounds open up, blood wetting the bandage around you. But you didn't care. You'd happily bleed if you couldn't fly. A part of you, sick part of you wanted to be left there. It would be better than false sympathy.
Be better than your mate being disgusted.
'Get out!' you yelled again, voice tearing through an aching throat.
'I just want to help you! please, let me help you!' said Rhys, standing from your bed and walking around, trying to face you.
'I don't want your help!' you screamed. You reached for the closest thing you could, a jug of water and chucked it toward him. You aim was terrible, marred with pain and exhaustion. 'Get out!'
Though hesitant, Rhysand slowly started walking back to your door. He did it all looking at you, his hands out to show he wasn't gonna hurt you, but you didn't care. You went for the glasses next and chucked them but they landed against the door which he disappeared through.
Before it slid close you caught sight of Cassian , Mor and Azriel. All crowded, all waiting to see you.
You'd be happy if you never let them see you again.
'Can we see her?' you hear Mor ask.
'Give her time,' said Rhys.
The shadows at your hand grew heavier, darker, tighter.
'Go away!' you yelled at them. To anyone else, you probably looked crazy, screaming to darkness. But the shadows understood. They departed, slithering away and under the crack of your door where you could see the shadows of feet.
Tumbling from bed, you stumbled over and locked the door, leaning on it to and catching your breath. Your nightgown was starting to get sticky with blood all over again. When you closed your eyes, you pictured the cell, the rough hands holding you down, the chain keeping you up.
And the pain, it all washed over you. The hacking at your back, the sting of a slap. It hit you like a tone of bricks as you slid to the floor.
There was a knock, rattling the door.
'y/n,' Cassian. 'Please let us in.'
Us. You felt him on the other side. Your mate, his presence lingering. His shadows under the door, wanting to come in but keeping their distance.
He didn't know. It hadn't snapped for him, you could tell. It was one tug on your end, a chord in your heart. At least he couldn't feel what you did. At least you could shoulder it alone.
'Please.' his voice was almost your un-doing. He sounded so sad, so desperate. It hurt you just to think you were hurting him.
Tears streamed down your face as your curled your fingers into a tight fist. You assumed Mor had left with Rhys, leaving you there with the males.
Cass was always like a brother to you. Granted- a brother you had slept with once or twice- but he was your best friend. You'd always been close to him. But you'd always been good, a happy person.
You couldn't be that for them now, perhaps ever again.
It lasted like that for hours. Cassian and Az begging to come in, you curling into a ball with tears down your cheeks and blood down your back.
Eventually, they gave up. You couldn't hear them anymore and the shadows of their boots had disappeared.
Except Azriel's shadows that still lingered under your door. Maybe he'd ordered them to be there while they left you.
Eventually, you managed to find your footing on shaking legs. Your room was large, one of the largest. It was just as much a mess as it was when you'd left for you mission, clothes thrown over the place, books propped open on the pages you'd left them on. Everything was the same but could never be again.
It took you longer than you'd care to admit to get to your windows and throw the curtains close. Candles light at your request, the house looking after you as it had since you were a child.
You caught sight of yourself in the full length mirror. It seemed smaller, everything in the room felt too large and you too small, as if you were being swallowed by the expanse of it.
Your frame was small in the mirror, your hair disarrayed. Your eyes were red and shutting of their own accord from the tears that had drained you. The starving in the cells had made you look weak, made you feel weak.
And your back. There was no more looming black figures there, no more fluttering. There was just nothing. In spite of the ache as you lifted your arm, you felt around your back, feeling the hitch there, the lump from where they'd been torn from you.
You cry. You sob. You scream.
The scars were long and the nightdress was sticking to you by the blood you'd shed. All you could do, was hold yourself up as your body wracked with tears.
A breeze came from your windows, shadows tugging at the curtains.
You felt him before you saw him. You wanted to tell him to leave you but you couldn't talk without chocking. Without feeling like you couldn't breath.
Azriel had you in your arms before your knees could hit the ground. He fell with you, softening your body on the floor. His arms held you into his chest, his legs caging you into his body. His head rested on yours as he held you. He didn't try to talk, he didn't try to help. It was just him, you and his shadows.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
Azriel remembered dozing off with you, his head on yours. His arms holding you into him, as if it was up to him to keep the sadness away and take it for you.
Afterall, you were his best friend. He should have been there for you, and he'd failed terribly by letting you get hurt and your wings stolen from you. He could hate himself every day for it, for letting you down. But it would never amount to what you felt for yourself and that killed him.
He could see it in the way you cried, in the way you were already keeping everyone out. He'd rather die than let you go through all the pain alone.
When his hands had been scarred by his brothers, you'd help heal him, tell him about everything he still was and all the power he still held in his hands. In the worst days, when he didn't let anyone touch him, he let you.
It was always you.
Azriel wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep, or how deep. He was sure he was still with you, still in your bed.
His shadows crept up on him, engulfing him slowly and whispering to him. Your name, just your name on repeat. It was enough to lull him back into sleep, to keep him calm.
Gone. Missing. y'n. Roof.
He shot up and ran fastest than he ever had in his life. It was as if he'd never been asleep but had been fighting a battle with the way he raced over.
He burst through the doors, the cold hight air hitting him.
You stood facing the stars, your bloody back to him. It wasn't as much blood as when he'd found you, but it was still enough to put a lump in his throat.
Immediately his shadows fell to you, cascading down your body and wrapping around your waist. There was a breeze in the air, pushing your hair back and exposing more signs of the pain and torture you must have gone through.
'I'm not gonna jump, if that's what you're thinking,' you said. You didn't even have to turn to him. The shadows probably told you enough.
'Why are you up here?' he asked, walking to you slowly and with careful steps. As if every step closer could you push you away from him.
'I'll never feel the win properly again,' you answered.
Azriel gulped down his own pain. You’d never sounded so small. ‘Can you get away from the ledge?’
'I'm not on the ledge.'
'You're too close for my liking.'
'Leave if you don't like it.'
'Don't do this,' he said.
'Do what?' you asked, folding your arms over your chest. You were cold, out in the hight but you wanted to see the stars. Needed to see them.
'Make me leave. Make everyone leave you. I know that's what you're doing. It's what you do every time,' you could feel him dawning closer. His shadows were all around you, almost drowning you.
‘Every time,’ you scoff, stepping down and turning on him. ‘It’s not every day you lose your wings Azriel! But don’t let me stop you from leaving, flap them and go!’ You yelled, unable to stop yourself, no matter how hard you tried. You didn’t want to hurt him, you just wanted to be alone.
Mate. Mate. Mate.
'You jump and I’ll catch you,' he said. He was a step away, he could just reach out and touch, just a gentle caress. 'I swear it, whatever you do, I’ll follow. I’m not letting you get away.’
He watched your back shudder as he reached out, brushing knuckles against your shoulder blade. He heard your sharp inhale follow.
'Don’t think I won’t follow, y/n.'
Finally, you turned around in his shadows. You couldn’t meet his eyes but at least you could face his chest.
His hands were gentle on your shoulder as he rubbed it gently. 'Can I get Madja to clean you up?' He asked.
You nodded as he led you away. You truly did not deserve your mate.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
Fifty-two years later...
When Amarantha had trapped the high lords of Prythian under the mountain, it hadn't be a conscious choice to follow your half-brother down. How Amarantha had allowed it, you weren't sure, but perhaps she wanted to use you just like her brother, or she thought it would bring more pain for him to see you suffer under there too.
You and Rhysand had barley spoke the last two years.
It had took you almost two months to heal fully enough to leave your room, another few months to face your family again. But even then, everyone knew something had changed in you. You didn't laugh as loud or smile as wide.
Rhysand was careful to ever let you out on a mission. Mor tried to take you out every night. Cassian spent all day every day with you and Azriel- he'd healed you better than any nurse.
Still, you had not told him he was your mate.
Still, you thought he wouldn't want it.
Still, you cared for your brother enough to not want him to go alone.
But being under the mountain, you could avoid your mate. At a painful price.
Until her. Rhys's mate. He hadn't shut up about her since he first met her, much to your dismay as you had to sit around and listen- having absolutely nothing better to do. And it only got worse when she turned up under the mountain. She was declaring her love for Tamlin- again, annoying your brother, and throwing Lucien into danger- which rather angered you. You had nothing against the ginger.
Rhysand had once sent you to find the girl to summon her as part of a bargain he'd made. He didn't want to go, he didn't want to look too forceful. You'd been lucky enough to find the two tangled up in each other against a cold wall, clothes ripped and hips moving together.
'Well, well well,' you'd intterupted.
Tamlin all but growled at you, but feyre was looking over you- evidently confused. She had no idea who you were. You, in your skimpy outfit that Amarantha kept you in (they all dipped low at your back, showing off your scars) and your eyes that were like a night sky.
'Amarantha's looking for her pet and Rhysand is looking for his. Honestly, i'd be a bit more worried if I were you. You know, considering Lucien still has an eye to lose.'
The two parted with your words as you sent Tamlin back to his master, the high lord glaring at you as you went. While Feyre tried to fix herself.
'Rhysand is over there, better not keep him waiting.' That was the first time you met her, having no idea how much trouble she'd be worth. The family that she'd become.
But Rhysand made sure you knew it all. From when the bond snapped in him and he'd stumbled. He ranted and ranted as they climbed out.
If only you were so talkative about Azriel. If only you could talk about him with your brother. But you'd tried not to painfully think about him. Climbing out of the mountain. It was all you could think of.
Maybe he'd have forgotten you? it had been fifty years. He'd probably realised how happy he could be without having to take care of you.
Rhys was allowed out of the mountain, he'd felt the breeze in his hair but you hadn't in fifty long years. You stood there a moment, bathing in the warmth as everyone left, as everyone ran off for their families and courts and the war that was inevitable. Eventually, Rhys offered you his arm. 'Shall we go home?'
He winnowed you there, on the balcony of your home. In a cloud of black smoke, the two of you appeared.
He went first, slipping through the doors slowly- like it could all be taken from them any minute.
You were hesitant, taking a moment to glance at the landscape behind you. It hadn't changed, not at all. The mountains were still there, everyone was still alive. Your home. In the last years it hadn't felt like home, but how could anywhere ever feel so close in your heart.
When you could find your feat again, you managed to slip through the doors. You were suddenly aware of how little clothing you were wearing, just enough to cover your chest and run down your legs. A chill settled down your back, your scars would be on show. What a way to great them all after fifty years.
Mor had her arms around Rhys's shoulders, crying into his shoulder.
Behind them you caught Amren, with something like tears in her eyes. You were just about to tease her before a body barrelled into yours in a blur of red syphons and your feet were lifted from the ground.
'Cassian.'
His arms tightened around you. You shoulder started to dampen with tears, his tears. The last time you'd seen him cry around you was when he'd seen a dog with only three legs. 'I'm keeping you on a leash from now on, stupid idiot.'
Your arms wrap around his shoulders, a smile gracing your lips. 'Is that a promise?'
He held you longer, tighter, not daring to let you go but at least settling you on the ground. He sighed against your head, controlling himself. 'He's missed you, you know,' he said. He was the only one you'd told, about your mate. 'Now that you're back, tell him. He deserves to know.'
Cassian slowly pulled away, holding you at arms length and smiling at you. He kissed your cheeks and then your forehead before parting to Rhysand.
Mor approached you next, slapping you in the arm.
'Ow!'
'Why would you follow him?' she snapped.
You blinked at her before she took you by the arm she'd slapped and embraced you, like a sister would. You dared not looking over her shoulder to find the one who hadn't come to you. Maybe Cass had got it wrong...
Mor pulled away, wiping at her eyes.
Azriel was as beautiful as the day you left him. His hair was the same length, he was the same height. He was just as you left him. It was hard to tell fifty years had passed on him.
And inside of you, tugging in your soul and heart you felt the familiar string of gold throbbing. But you still didn't feel that tug. You'd hoped it would have faded from you after half a year separated. Or at least have snapped for him. But no such relief.
He approached you, slowly. As if he was scared of scaring you away. But you just stood there.
His arms were delicate and soft around you as he brought you into his chest. He still smelled the same, cedar wood and shadows. Shadows that wrapped around you, shielding you from the rest of the room. They caressed you, head to two.
You held onto each other for what could have been another fifty years, but this time, it wasn't so painful.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
Although nobody wanted to part after yours and Rhysand's return, you were exhausted. A trip to Rita's could wait another night or two. The only thing you wanted to do was hide in your room.
Strangely, your room looked lived in. As if somebody had moved in since you'd left. A moment of anger replaced grief. Had they brought someone else and given them your room? but then you smelt it, Az.
Lying in bed that night, exhausted, you couldn't find sleep. You closed your eyes and pictured Amarantha. You'd never been afraid of her, you weren't afraid of anything. But you re-played the horrors. Watching servants beat Feyre, watching Amarantha use your brother and on the occasion, even you. How she flaunted. How the most powerful lords were weak.
Under your door, shadows seeped in, rushing across the room to you. You smiled, watching your hand disappear in their darkness.
'Azriel?' you called.
There was shifting on the other side of the door before he slipped in, clicking it shut behind him.
You sat up in bed, shadows moving with you. 'Couldn't sleep?'
He wondered in, looking around your room. 'Sleeping's been... hard.'
You rolled over, opening the blanket and nodding your head. You couldn't think about the bond, not yet. Not while he looked so.... ruined. Beautiful- the most beautiful person in the world, but sad. As he climbed in next to you, you could see the dark circles under his eyes, his shoulders slumped and his wings too.
His eyes scanned over you. You were in a thin and silk night dress that only brushed your knees, but the way he looked at you, mother you could've been naked. 'Fifty years,' his voice sounded barley controlled. 'Fifty years. You followed your brother down for fifty years? Why would you do that?'
You gulp. 'I would've done it for any of you. Except maybe Amren, she'd probably enjoy the peace for fifty years.'
You go to brush your hair back but Azriel seizes your wrist. He was angry. That's why his voice was rough and his chest rising and falling with barley controlled emotions. Could he feel it? your nerves, your lying?
'You left. You should've stayed, y/n, you know Rhysand didn't want you under there with him,' he said. 'For fifty years I haven't been able to sleep through a night thinking about the pain you must have been going through. After I swore to keep you safe, after I promised to catch you every time!'
'You couldn't have stopped me. You didn't promise, Az.'
His grip grew tighter. 'It went without saying.'
You looked around his eyes, seeing the pain and grief there also. Slowly, you brought your other hand up. He flinched as you took his cheek but eventually settled as your thumb ran over his cheekbone. 'I won't leave again, ok? I promise.'
He gulped, letting go of your wrist and looking down. 'I slept here,' he mumbled, but just loud enough to hear you. 'I couldn't sleep in my room. This was the only place I could rest.'
Your heart stuttered. Your hand dropped from his cheek. This man was your mate. Your mate. Your only love, whether or not the cauldron deemed it.
Azriel took your hesitation. 'I-i'm sorry, you probably didn't want to hear that. I've probably ruined your one place of peace-'
'Stay,' you said, before you could think of what you were asking. 'Sleeping wasn't exactly easy under the mountain either. I just trust I won't have to put a wall of cushions between us.' as if you wanted that. As if you haven't thought about his calloused hands all over you.
Azriel smiled and stayed the night.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
The third time he almost lost you, broke him...
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
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pucksandpower · 6 months
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Hey Natalia, hope you’re doing good ❤️ Please could I request enemies to lovers with Max. You’re constantly at each other’s throats in front of everyone and Christian has had enough of your shit and demands to see you in the office. But when you continue to fight, he’s like nah I don’t wanna be involved, sort your shit out together and leaves. And you end up fucking on his desk and after you’re suddenly super friendly around eachother. Thank you lovely! xxx
Whiplash
Max Verstappen x Red Bull driver!Reader
Summary: You and Max discover that there is a thin line between lust and hate
Warnings: 18+ content
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You storm into Christian’s office, scowling as Max follows right behind you. He slams the door shut and you both take a seat across from Christian, refusing to even look at each other.
“I’m sure you both know why I called you in here,” Christian says sternly. “The tension between you two has gone too far. It’s affecting the team and we can’t have that.”
You scoff and cross your arms. “Why don’t you talk to him about it then? I’m not the problem here.”
Max scowls. “Oh please, don’t pretend like you’re so innocent. You’ve been nothing but hostile towards me since the start of the season.”
“Only because you did the same!” You retort. “I was nothing but nice when I first joined the team. You’re the one with the attitude problem.”
“Enough!” Christian shouts, silencing you both. “I don’t care who started it. I’m ending it. We’re in the middle of a championship fight and I need my drivers to work together, not against each other.”
You sink lower in your chair, still refusing to look at Max. The animosity radiates off of him in waves.
“Now you’re going to stay in here until you work this out,” Christian says firmly. “I don’t care if it takes all night. Fix this mess or both of your seats are on the line.”
He heads for the door and you spring up from your chair. “You can’t be serious!”
“Deadly,” Christian replies before shutting the door. You hear the lock click into place from the outside.
You jiggle the handle and pound on the door. “Let us out!”
No response.
He’s really done it, that bastard. Locked you in a room alone with your most hated rival.
You take a deep breath before turning around. Max sits there glaring at you, jaw clenched. “This is ridiculous,” he mutters.
“For once we agree on something,” you snap.
His glare hardens. “Don’t pretend you’re blameless. You’ve been nasty since you got here.”
You storm over to him. “Because you decided to hate me from day one! I tried to be nice but you were so damn hostile. What’s your problem with me anyway?”
Max stands up abruptly, getting in your face. “My problem is you waltzing in here like you own the place when I’m the number one driver.”
You shove him in the chest. “Get over yourself! I earned my spot here.”
He shoves you back. “You don’t deserve to be here.”
Your blood boils as you stare him down. God he’s infuriating. And stubborn as hell. You doubt you’ll ever get him to admit any fault in this situation.
“Well I’m not going anywhere so I guess you’ll just have to get used to it,” you snap.
Max steps even closer, eyes blazing. Your noses nearly touch from how close he stands. “Is that so?” His voice comes out low, almost husky.
A shiver runs down your spine but you keep glaring at him. “Yeah, that’s so.”
You expect him to shoot back some nasty retort. Instead his eyes flick down to your lips for just a moment before meeting your heated gaze again.
Suddenly the energy shifts between you. The anger and tension remains but it transforms into something more primal. More dangerous.
Your breaths come heavier as electricity crackles in the nonexistent space left between you. Max’s pupils are blown wide, his chest rising and falling as rapidly as your own.
“I ...” Your voice comes out hoarse. “We should ...”
But neither of you make any move to step away. Without thinking your tongue darts out to wet your dry lips. Max tracks the movement with his intense stare.
“Fuck it,” he growls before crashing his mouth onto yours.
You gasp into the kiss and he takes advantage, deepening it. His hands grasp your hips roughly as he walks you backwards until your back hits the wall.
You barely process what’s happening. One second you were at each other’s throats, the next his body is pressing urgently against yours.
A moan escapes you when his lips move to your neck. He nips at the sensitive skin there and you thread your fingers into his hair.
“This is insane,” you pant out even as you tug him closer.
“I know,” Max breathes against your neck. His hands skim up your sides, pushing up your shirt. “I hate you.”
“I hate you more.” You crash your lips together again, tasting blood when you nip at him.
Max groans into your mouth as your tongues slide together. He hitches one of your legs around his hip, grinding against you.
You break the kiss to tip your head back, moaning at the feeling. Fuck, you despise this man, but right now you need him more than anything.
His hips keep up that delicious friction as he mouths at your collarbone. “I’m still going to beat you,” he rasps out.
You smirk, nails digging into his shoulders. “In your dreams.”
Max’s eyes darken at your taunt. Without warning, he grips your thighs and lifts you onto Christian’s desk. You gasp as he pushes between your legs, his growing arousal obvious.
“Careful what you wish for,” he murmurs before crushing his mouth to yours once more.
You moan into the frenzied kiss, tongues tangling as you tug at his hair. His hands slide up your thighs, fumbling with the button of your jeans to push them down around your ankles. You wrap your legs around him, pulling him against your heated core.
Even through the layers of clothing you can feel how hard he is. You rock your hips, desperate for more friction. Max groans and moves his lips to your neck, nipping down to your collarbone.
Your head tips back as his fingers dance up your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts. “God, I hate you so much,” you moan.
“I know.” His voice comes out rough, filled with lust.
Impatient, you reach for the hem of his shirt and pull it over his head, tossing it aside. Your eyes rake over his muscular chest and arms. Unable to resist, you lean in and scrape your teeth over his nipple.
Max hisses in a breath, hands clenching on your hips. “Fuck ...”
You grin, laving your tongue over the sensitive nub as your fingers move to his belt buckle. With shaky hands you get it open and reach into his boxers, fingers wrapping around his thick length.
He shudders against you. “Shit, Y/N ...”
You stroke him firmly, reveling in the moans and curses falling from his lips. His own hands move under your shirt, palming your breasts through your bra.
It’s not enough. You strip off your shirt and reach back to unclasp your bra. Max wastes no time dipping his head to capture one of your nipples between his lips.
“Oh god ...” you gasp, back arching into him. His teeth and tongue work over your sensitive peaks until you’re writhing beneath him.
The sound of voices outside the door makes you both freeze. Fuck. The race weekend is still going on around you. Anyone could walk by and hear what’s happening.
You meet Max’s heated gaze. “We should stop,” you pant out half-heartedly.
His eyes blaze with defiance and lust. “No fucking way.”
Before you can react he drops to his knees, grasping your hips to pull you towards the edge of the desk.
Max tugs strongly on your lacy underwear until it gives way at the seams, baring you to him. He pauses to appreciate the view, eyes roaming hungrily over your glistening folds.
“I’m still going to beat you tomorrow,” he rasps.
You tug on his hair impatiently. “Just get on with it before we get caught.”
With a wicked grin he dives in, mouth latching onto your throbbing clit. You cry out, quickly slapping a hand over your own mouth.
You fumble with his belt, desperate to feel him. Max groans as you wrap your hand around his length.
“Fuck, just like that,” he groans against your skin, increasing the rhythm of his tongue in response. The desk rocks dangerously beneath you but neither of you slow your ministrations.
You whimper his name, pleasure building steadily under his expert touch. The fingers of one hand twist in his hair while you keep your other hand moving up and down in measured strokes as you near the edge.
“Look at me,” Max commands raggedly. You open your eyes to meet his wild gaze. The connection between you crackles.
“Max ...” you gasp as your climax crashes over you. You slap a hand over your lips, muffling your cries.
As you float back down, Max withdraws his mouth. You keen at the loss but then he’s lining himself up at your entrance. Gripping your hip tightly, he pushes inside in one smooth motion.
You cling to his shoulders, nails digging in as you adjust around him. Max trembles with restraint, giving you a moment before he starts to move.
Then he sets a relentless pace, the desk slamming against the wall with each powerful snap of his hips. You wrap your legs around him, spurring him even deeper.
Max pounds into you relentlessly, wrenching desperate moans from your lips. You’re vaguely aware of picture frames and papers tumbling to the floor around you but the chaos only adds to the thrill.
You’re close, the pressure building deep inside. With a few more well-angled thrusts you topple over the edge, coming hard around him. Your breasts bounce as your back arches sharply off the desk.
“There you go, princess,” Max rasps. He continues driving into your spasming center until his rhythm turns choppy and erratic.
“Fuck, I’m close,” Max grits out. You clench around him, greedy for his release. His hips stutter and then he spills inside you with a guttural groan. The sensation pushes you over the edge again, your vision whiting out from the intensity.
Breathing raggedly, Max collapses on top of you, pinning you to the desk. You’re both slick with sweat and utterly spent, your heart rates slowly returning to normal. You run your fingers through his damp waves soothingly.
The room is silent save for your heavy breathing. As the haze of lust clears, the ramifications of what just happened settle over you.
You just slept with your sworn rival on your team principal’s desk.
After a long moment Max pulls out of you and steps back, tucking himself away. On shaky legs you slide off the desk, stumbling slightly as you find your feet, and rush to put on your clothes.
Max grabs his shirt off the floor and shrugs back into it. His hair is mussed wildly and his lips are kiss-swollen. You’re sure you look much the same.
You and Max spring apart at the sound of the lock clicking open. Christian strides back into his office, oblivious to the disheveled state that both of his drivers are in.
“Well, have you two worked out your differences?” He looks between you expectantly.
You smooth down your rumpled shirt and attempt to tuck your wild hair back into place. Your cheeks flame as you meet Christian’s gaze.
“I think we’ve come to an ... understanding,” Max says evenly, though you notice a hint of color in his cheeks as well.
Christian surveys his office, taking in the askew trophies and books scattered across the floor. You hold your breath, certain he’s going to put two and two together.
“It seems you had a disagreement about reorganizing my office during your chat,” Christian says wryly.
You nearly choke in surprise. Does he really not realize what just transpired on his desk? You chance a glance at Max and have to suppress a hysterical giggle at the disbelief on his face.
“I apologize for the mess, we got a bit ... heated,” you say, biting your lip to keep from laughing at the double meaning.
“Yes, clearly things escalated between you two.” Christian frowns at a photo of him and Dietrich Mateschitz now lying cracked on the floor. You resist the urge to shrink under his disappointed dad stare.
“However, the important thing is you’ve worked through this animosity once and for all, correct?” He looks between you expectantly.
You and Max nod in unison. “Water under the bridge,” Max assures him. You’re impressed by how steady he manages to keep his voice even as you can see the barely contained mirth dancing in his eyes.
“Excellent. I’ll inform the team that tensions are resolved and they can stop walking on eggshells around the both of you.” Christian claps his hands together, apparently satisfied. “Now get out of here and get ready for free practice.”
You and Max don’t need telling twice. As soon as the door shuts behind you, the laughter you’ve been holding in bubbles out.
“I can’t believe he actually bought that,” Max says between chuckles.
“We literally destroyed his office and he thinks we just had a minor spat,” you giggle, shaking your head incredulously.
Your laughter trails off as the reality of what happened sinks in. You just had crazy hot sex with Max Verstappen. Where do you go from here?
Before you can overthink it, Max presses a soft kiss to your lips. “Meet me at the hotel tonight? We should continue this conversation somewhere more private,” he murmurs suggestively.
You bite your lip but find yourself nodding. As complicated and ill-advised as this may be, you can’t find it in yourself to deny your attraction to Max now that you’ve given in to it.
“It’s a date,” you whisper back.
Max grins and steals another quick kiss before you part ways to get changed.
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New blorbo from my mind just dropped
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sp0o0kylights · 11 months
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Indie horror filmmaker Eddie Munson, high off his first big (underground but notable) success, knows the movers and shakers of the film world have their eyes on him. 
They're just waiting to see if he was a one hit wonder before they open all the doors he's been trying to kick down. 
His next upcoming film is his chance, his shot at finally making it. Of being like Rob Zombie and the other creators he looks up to that masterfully blended metal and horror. 
This is his golden ticket. 
The project starts off smooth. His last success has greased the wheels, and things fall into place faster than ever before. 
He's got the best idea for this insane haunted house story, a true "mazes in mazes" type of deal with a queer twist. A real look at how a place can haunt a person just as easily as a ghost can.
 Everything's going swimmingly--until one of his leads drops out the day they're due to start shooting.
No call no show's, and later, Eddie will find out the guy got a last second call back to be a contestant on one of those Love Island bullshit romance gigs (and laugh his ass off when the main love interest takes one look at Billy Hargrove and goes on a five minute rant about ugly mullets on national television) but right now? 
He's fucked. 
He's called in every favor he has for this film. Maxed out every credit card he owns, tapped every contact, got on his hands and knees and begged his rising star journalist best bud to help him market it. (Which Nancy agreed too, for way less cash than she should have.) 
 Eddie can't get anyone on the phone, much less find a replacement actor and the amazing place they rented, that is so dark and wonderfully eerie, is booked out the rest of the year as an AirBnB. 
If he doesn't film now, he loses it all.
Cue the other lead, unknown theater actor Steve Harrington, watching his hair pulling, tire kicking, 'cursing and hopping while holding a toe' mental breakdown and asks why Eddie himself doesn't act in it. 
"Just go full Kevin Smith man. Act and direct." He says, with an easy grin. 
Jeff, Eddie's tried and true videographer, trades glances with Gareth and Grant (Eddie's long used special effects and makeup team, who double for about twelve other jobs because they're also his best friends and they're all in this together, make or break.)
"We don't really have a lot of other options." Gareth hedges. "You're already using me and Grant as background characters." 
Eddie, hands fluttering around his face as though trying to wave away this entire situation, squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a pained hiss. 
"Fine, fine!" He announces with the air of a man running towards a fire. "Fuck it, this is our one shot and so help me I will be shooting it!" 
Steve politely hides a laugh with a cough. 
"Chuckle all you want big boy, I'm going to tragically romance you so hard people will forget both of our characters actually live." Eddie snarls.
Steve, the handsome bastard, just winks.  "Looking forward to it." 
Eddie blushes, but hides it with a surge of frantic energy, conveyed by lots of yelling and moving and getting the ball rolling. 
Two days later, Steve would give the performance of a lifetime down on his knees, covered in a literal pound of fake gore, booty shorts and nothing else as he sobbed about how a lover could become a home. His hands clawed at Eddie's jeans before resting a tear stained face on a slim leg as he bent his body towards Eddie like it hurt to be away from him. 
Eddie would later receive equal praise in his own acting during the scene, with the world and every reporter in it asking how he conveyed an otherworldly panic so beautifully throughout Steve's performance. What was he thinking, to evoke those expressions on his face? 
The way his own pale hand, unmarred by blood and acting as a metaphor for the plot, would come to stroke Steve's cheeks.
Eventually he'd come up with a smooth polished answer that cheekily pleased his audience, but nothing would ever come close to the truth. 
("Eddie I've known you since grade school." Jeff said that night, a scant few hours after they'd wrapped. "You can act man, but not like that." 
Eddie made a wild "shut up" gesture, looking frantically over his shoulder before admitting; "You saw how close his face was to the prince of darkness!? I was seconds away from popping a boner next to his lips, in front of the 4K camera!” 
Eddie bounced into Jeff’s face so he could hiss: “He fucking had his chin on my thigh, Jeff, and I am only a man. A mere mortal!" 
"So we're gonna unpack all of that later." Jeff said finally, when he'd managed to get his mouth working and Eddie back out of his personal space. "But dude, we've talked about you calling your dick the prince of darkness." 
Eddie flipped him off.) 
One year later and critics named Corroded the best horror film of the year, praising the camera work, practical effects, and how there wasn't a soul alive who was surprised to hear Eddie and Steve were dating after their explosive on screen chemistry.
No one ever quite understood the prince of darkness jokes or why Steve mentioning it made Eddie blush, but that was a secret to find out later. 
Today on WIP’s I have no intention of writing, indie horror movie AU!
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