ink3yy
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Sam looks flustered, and his gaze darts away from Higgs like he can’t quite bring himself to expand upon it any further. He gives a meagre shrug.
Higgs, keen as ever, smiles impishly. He knows, of course, what Sam wants based on reaction alone, but he isn’t going to give it up easily.
“Seriously, Sam. No idea what part you’re gettin’ at.”
Bookmarked by ink3yy
21 Jan 2026
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Dean shows up at Sam's Stanford apartment expecting to find his little sister, and instead finds a 6'4 dude with his sister's face and a voice an octave too deep.
It takes a while for Dean to wrap his head around Sam being trans. It takes him even longer to understand why he struggles to look his little brother in the eye, and why he can't stop staring at his bare chest.
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Bookmarked by ink3yy
21 Dec 2025
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There was something about this moment - just before the storm, when everything went still - that felt almost holy. Like the world holding its breath.
Then he heard it.
Faint, but sharp. A thin, warbling sound carried on the wind.
He froze.
Whistle.
Not birdsong. Not wind. Not anything natural. That was a whistle - one of those emergency ones, the kind you bought in a hiking store and hoped you’d never need to use. Three quick bursts. A pause. Then three long ones. Then three quick ones again. Someone was out there.
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For three years, the silence of his remote mountain cabin was everything Daryl wanted. He had a life built of solitude and self-reliance, a world where the only person he had to answer to was himself, but that silence is shattered by the arrival of Rick Grimes - a city man with a busted ankle and no business being in the wilderness - just as the first big snow of the season hits. Trapped together in the suffocating closeness of the cabin, Daryl tells himself it’s temporary. He tells himself it doesn't mean anything. He tells himself it's just until the snow melts.
Bookmarked by ink3yy
16 Nov 2025
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The front seat of the Impala wasn't built for sex. Especially when the bench seat was pushed back as far as it'd go.
The leather creaked and the suspension protested. To any bystander, the rocking and fogged windows did little to hide what was going on inside.
It was a good thing they pulled off onto the side of the road, off a nearly empty interstate in the middle of nowhere. The Impala was parked haphazardly, tire marks in the gravel, front-end buried in shrubbery. Like whoever was driving was desperate to pullover and paid no mind to how they parked. From the road, the rocking backend was the only thing visible amidst the dead and dry bushes.
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Some good old fashioned love making in the Impala-- with a side of Dean's raging breeding kink, of course.Bookmarked by ink3yy
06 Nov 2025