milo80
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- Outer Banks (TV) (1)
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“Oh, uh, right” Rafe scratched the back of his head. “You um, going to be alright?”.
JJ smiled at him.
Rafe rolled his eyes, “I just meant with all your, you know, bleeding everywhere shit” he sighed, gesturing to JJ’s stomach. He seemed to tense at that, smile dropping.
“And if I said I wasn’t?” JJ muttered silently.
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Or Rafe finds JJ beaten up and they walk home together, and that's how it all starts.
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He learned about the roommate in increments. Bits and pieces.
Josten. Neil.
Maths.
He ran. At five in the morning, like a crazy person.
He didn’t bring people over. No friends, no partners, no nothing.
No wonder, Aaron said once in a passing sentence, He’s a bit of an asshole.
Or: Neil is Aaron's roommate. Andrew is fascinated even from afar.
Bookmarked by milo80
10 Jun 2026
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Neil swallows back blood. “Andrew.”
“Abram,” Andrew returns.
“I’m losing my mind. I think I’m losing my mind.”
“You aren’t,” Andrew says, so easy, so certain. “You’re tired. You’re scared. That’s it.”
Neil grits his teeth. “I’m,” he exhales shakily. “I’m – seeing things,” he admits.
—
In which Andrew gets into a car accident one week into the off-season, and everything is fine right up until he starts dying every night in Neil’s dreams. Things get worse, and then they get better.
—
Or, how trauma and triggers persist even after decades of safety, and how Andrew and Neil navigate them and take care of each other throughout it all.
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Bookmarked by milo80
09 Apr 2026
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The cocky curl of his lips was all the confirmation Shane needed.
You really did time it, you fucker.
Ilya’s decisive goal came two point six seconds before the end of the game.
Not accidentally. He did it to spite the Montreal Metros. Shane most of all.
It was cruel. Ilya Rozanov, with his Russian pride and mannerisms was cruel.
Except for the times when he came to Shane’s hotel room. Or when Shane went to his. It was insane how Ilya always changed behind closed doors. How his smile turned genuine, how the weight of expectations lifted from his shoulders, and only the sweet lust remained, cradling Shane in its attentive arms.
Ilya on the ice, wearing the colours of his team, and Ilya in the bedroom, wearing nothing, were two different people.
TL;DR: Fuck toxic masculinity, everyone is allowed to cry!
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Bookmarked by milo80
28 Jan 2026
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“Game is over,” he says. “You won. I lost. I was annoying. Normal.”
“That’s not—” Shane starts, then stops, because he actually doesn't know how to finish that thought without sounding like an idiot. His jaw works, teeth grinding together.
That's not what I meant. That's not the point. You said I was boring and you were right and I need you to say it again so I know where I stand, so I know what you think of me, so I can stop waiting for the other shoe to drop.
He settles for: “You were kind of an asshole.”
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Bookmarked by milo80
16 Jan 2026
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Oscar was happy for the team.
He wanted to toast the win, to see everyone’s faces of joy and feel the thrill of being part of it. He wanted Lando to hand him a bottle of champagne without a word, and share that quiet understanding that they'd done it, together. A smile on his face that would match Lando’s.
Just like last year.
But Lando had crashed into him. Tom had dismissed it on the radio. The mechanics had done a shit pit stop. And he’d finished P4.
Bookmarked by milo80
09 Nov 2025