#dalestat

[itstweeds]

Lesdale/dalestat because I find this crackship kinda cute, God bless Sam Reid for his supposed intrusive thoughts and collective fandom delusion!!!

Loosely inspired by @exquisitetragicthing s' fic "I thought we could have an orgy" where these four chaps ignore canon and things get spicy between them: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63040114

[menasimagination]

vampire dale. dale if he got bit

[daledelioncourt]

My fics....

Loustat:

choking on your sorrow

Every week Louis sits in the same pew.

He waits until the congregation has cleared out, his mama and siblings leaving without him, before slipping back inside and sitting in the back row. Hands folded in his lap, eyes closed, lips moving rapidly as he prays, head bowed in supplication to a God he’s not sure is listening anymore.

2. so tight i can feel my thoughts

After their first night hunting with Claudia, Lestat sits between Louis' legs, Louis braiding his hair. It's quiet, it's intimate, their hearts still beat in sync.

3. let me call you sweetheart

“Wanna dance?” he asks a moment later. Lestat pauses, and then a smile is spreading across his face, luminescent blue eyes glittering in the streetlights.

“Thought you’d never ask,” Lestat sighs, almost nonchalant, and takes two steps back. Louis follows and takes Lestat’s left hand in his right, other hand landing on his waist; Lestat falls into position easily.

4. boring

Louis starts hallucinating Lestat during sex with Armand.

5. all is calm, all is bright

Louis swallows, blinks once, tries to control his breathing. The room spins and fades out at the edges of his vision, before quickly righting itself, there and gone. Then he smiles, crooked at the corner, and breathes evenly, slowly, and says nothing. He can tell his silence stings, like it always does. Lestat’s eyes tighten at the corners and his smile lessens, but he nods once anyway and turns his attention back to the piano.

6. when there's skin behind it

“You came in late on the chorus, and you were a little flat there at the end,” Louis says the moment Lestat comes backstage, the crowd screaming on the other side of the curtain for an encore. He hands Lestat a towel to wipe the sweat from his face and then tosses him a fresh blood bag with a grin. “You’ve gotta pay attention to the band and not me, everyone’s gonna start to think you’re distracted or somethin’.”

Lestat rolls his eyes, scoffs, and rips the corner of the bag open, blood spilling out and onto his fingers. Messy like usual, Louis thinks fondly, watching as Lestat drains half the bag in one go and ends up with a dribble of red down his chin as he drinks. It slowly rolls down his throat, and Louis can’t resist tracking its movement, watching as it stains Lestat’s skin before soaking into the collar of his sheer black top.

7. 26,482

A lot has changed.

But Jackson Square remains the same. Their bench still rests under the same tree, facing the same cathedral, under the same warm lighting from the same street lamp under the same stars.

He sits on the left side. Crosses his leg over the other, stretches his arm along the back, closes his eyes. And he waits. He listens to people pass him by; listens to the blood rushing through their veins, the drunken and off key singing, the low murmurs of lovers whispering to each other. It’s all familiar, like coming home after some time away.

8. a house is made of bricks and beams

On a quiet, sunny Tuesday afternoon in January the house looms, larger than life, more than it’s ever seemed to before in all his thirty-three years. As a kid he was scared of it sometimes, how big his house was, with its big pillars and wide doors and many windows and his mother’s watchful gaze around every corner. Some nights he’d come home late after playing with Jonah down the street and stand at the bottom step, wringing his hands nervously as he stared at the house in the nighttime, afraid of the shadows cast under the light of the moon as he thought about his parents waiting for him on the other side. There were days where the house felt too big, while other days he felt suffocated, despite the enormity of his room, Paul’s, Grace’s, every room in the house seeming cavernous in their size.

And after Paul, the house had never been quieter. Never as stifling and tense as it was during those few days after his death. Louis despised it even more.

Jam Reiderson:

your morning quiet

The trailer is warm and cozy, lights dimmed low, curtains drawn on the one lone window above the sofa. Jacob breathes deep and settles into the cushions, pillowing his head on his left arm and resting the other on his stomach, letting the sounds of rain on the tin roof lull him into a doze. He promised he’d still be awake, but the night shoot was rough and seemingly never-ending and he just wants a nap before they’re due back on set in a few hours.

2. you and me and me and you, always

Sam carries the heavy ones worse than Jacob. He confessed once he hated seeing Jacob in distress, even if it was fictional, all an act. He didn’t want to see Jacob like this: covered in blood and bruises, ones inflicted by him.

3. un, deux, trois

Sam needs to practice counting French. What better way than counting Jacob's freckles and beauty marks?

4. your morning quiet: smut version

That little tendril of warmth in his gut slowly unravels, unspools into a faint arousal that makes his skin tingle and his cock twitch in interest. Their kisses become deeper, more desperate and needy, soft moans and the smacking of lips interrupting the quiet.

5. and dance around the kitchen, baby

Slowly but surely they find the rhythm, laughing together as Jacob spins and twirls them around the small kitchen. Sam bumps into the refrigerator no less than three times and Jacob smacks his hip on the edge of a counter at least twice, all the wine they’d consumed at dinner making them a little clumsy, too. But they’re happy and carefree away from any prying, suspicious gazes, warm from the wine and full bellies and each other’s company.

6. shh, shh

It was Sam's idea and Jacob enthusiastically agreed to it.

Or, Jacob is wearing a butt plug under his clothes at SDCC '25 and Sam can't resist.

7. sorry i'm late, i wanted to come

They're gonna be late to their own wrap party because Jacob needs Sam.

Right now.

8. oh, home

The photo booth was the easiest place to escape to.

There was no room to breathe out on the dance floor or at the bar or even outside, too many people crowded in and around and stealing all the air and available space. Hugs, photos, polite conversations, the red mood lighting, the drinks being pressed into his hands, it was too much when Sam just wanted Jacob all to himself for a little while.

9. let me go home

Jacob said he was coming, told Sam to wait for him.

And Sam does.

10. comfort

The room is quiet, cool, lighting dim and casting shadows on the walls, and for a long time they stand in place, Sam swaying slightly, Jacob’s eyes closed and breathing warm on Sam’s neck, only the sounds of muted traffic interrupting their peace. Sam started rubbing Jacob’s back some time ago; big hands making wide arcs up and down Jacob’s spine, around his shoulder blades, to his sides and then repeating the same patterns over and over.

or, it's post-NYCC Jam comfort in their hotel room

11. good vibrations

It was Jacob’s idea, and really that should’ve been his first clue that he was either stupidly in love or just stupid. Jacob made him do stupid things; being in love with Jacob made him do stupid things.

Like this.

This is probably the stupidest, dumbest, most idiotic thing he’s ever done. And all because Jacob’s pretty brown eyes combined with that filthy mouth were so convincing he just couldn’t resist. He couldn’t deny Jacob anything, that’s how stupid Sam is for him. Even when it meant possible embarrassment on Sam’s part.

12. talk turkey to me

Jacob is just full of dirty Thanksgiving themed puns. And Sam is the unfortunate victim.

13. givin' me the excitations

Jacob is just as stupid as Sam.

or

the one where Jacob wears a vibrator in public this time.

14. emotional support coworkers

It’s no secret they’re close, closer than most friends. It’s also no secret that they’re each other’s emotional support coworkers. Husbands? Honestly Jacob lost track of all the nicknames a long time ago, most of them said in jest and some of them hitting a little too on the nose. But it’s a surprise all the same when he’s seen going into Sam’s shared trailer, by Delainey, long before he’s due on set, hood pulled over his head and sunglasses covering half his face. He pauses at the bottom of the steps, and she just waves and flashes him a wink before walking off, shaking her head and smiling.

or

the one where Jacob comes to set to be there for sam

15. red lips, champagne, white dress

Sam wakes slowly. His eyes feel like they’re being pried open with the jaws of life, a layer of crusty sleep sticking his lashes together and gluing the corners. He yawns and smacks his lips, grimaces at the sour taste in his mouth, rubs his eyes with one fist until his eyelashes unstick.

Groaning, he takes stock of what body parts are still working and which ones lack the most basic function. Wiggles his toes, twists his ankles, winces as one ankle pops almost painfully; next his arms, one of which is dead asleep, his nerves on fire. But the other one works fine, his fingers flexing against warm skin. In fact he’s spooned against what feels like miles of warm skin. Bare, sticky-with-sweat skin.

OR

The one where Jacob and Sam get super drunk and wake up married the next morning.

Other pairings:

a one night deal

Dale gets the chance of a lifetime: an interview with The Vampire Lestat, live on air, behind the desk, with hundreds of thousands watching. This could be the interview that gives his career as a newsreader the boost it needs. If only he could remember everything that happened after the interview...