Ticket_nyan
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Summary
“I’m going to help you,” Lando declares. “You know I like to do a bit of photography myself. We’ll have ourselves a little mock photoshoot. Get you comfortable.”
The finality in Lando’s voice leaves Oscar no other choice but to nod in agreement.
Lando’s grin is blinding, getting up to head out. “It’s a date.”
With that, Lando’s out of sight, and Oscar tries his hardest to get him out of mind as well.
OR
Oscar signs with a modeling agency and gets an offer from Calvin Klein. He doesn't know how to pose in his underwear, so Lando teaches him.
Bookmarked by Ticket_nyan
13 Mar 2026
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Summary
ogilvie develops feelings for whitaker over their first few months of working together at The Pitt and in a moment of desperation, whitaker takes advantage of those feelings to sleep with him
Bookmarked by Ticket_nyan
22 Feb 2026
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Viktor claws into the earth, fingers raw and digging into the wet sand and stone as blood fills his body. Drawing first breath is an overwhelming, blinding sensation, salty air blooming in his lungs, brushing against his bare skin, scrubbed raw and burning against the sand and salt.
As far as resurrections go, it’s not his favorite. Gentle waves roll over him but the tide is neither cooling nor forgiving, it licks at his skin like the blade of a knife, and the grit of the sand against his bare flank burns like open flame. Nakedness seems to remain an unfortunate mainstay of birth.
The warm arm clinging to him burns like hot iron, singing his flesh. “Viktor?”
Jayce winces and attempts to uproot himself from the ground, face contorting the way it often would when he was particularly hungover. “We’re alive?”
It’s not a question meant to be answered. Jayce was there when Viktor built them new bodies, ripped through the universe to hold them to the mortal plane, and sewed new flesh out of the dirt and stardust.
Viktor thought he had been ready to die.
__or, after death Viktor and Jayce wash up on a beach like some old driftwood
Bookmarked by Ticket_nyan
16 Feb 2026
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The taste of vomit is still in Dennis Whitaker's mouth when Langdon finds him on the bathroom floor.
He saw Robby's hands on someone else, their heads close, that private laugh Dennis thought was only his. His body reacted before his mind could catch up.
Langdon stands in the doorway, takes in the beat-up shoes, the trembling hands, the face of a man who just lost his sun. He's been here before. He was Dennis once.
His hand lands on Dennis' shoulder—firm, familiar, the exact way Robby used to touch him. An apology. A warning. An offering.
Dennis doesn't pull away. He's so desperate for that feeling again he'll take it from anyone.
Neither of them says Robby's name.
Bookmarked by Ticket_nyan
13 Feb 2026
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Summary
Jack hummed. A spark startled to crackle somewhere in his chest. “You know what? Let me steal him away for a few nights.”
A line formed between Robby’s brows. His cheeks warmed with colour. “What?”
“Night shifts, brother. Night shifts. I need to see what the fuss about this guy is. And I think if you’re not gonna make any more moves out of fear—” he received a glare at that, “ —I’ll take him for a spin and report back,”
Robby said nothing back. The wind howled again.
“Good talk.” he said, clapping his fellow attending on the back.
“I didn’t say yes, Jack!”
“And I didn’t really ask for your permission, did I?”
or, a fic about hucklerabbot neck squeezing/grabbing that leads to collars and leather restraints
Bookmarked by Ticket_nyan
11 Feb 2026