#i woke up and just HAD to

[ofthecaravel]

You Know How To Haunt

A 'You Don't Go To Parties' Halloween Special/ Mini Fic/ Oneshot

Summary: Before the night they confessed, Danny and Sam had a very similar evening that ended very, very differently.

Tags: Pre-confession YDGTP Sanny, ANGST, feelingssss (that aren't one sided but Danny thinks they are), saucy thoughts but nothing explicit, basically just infuriating tension

Words: 2.7k

A/N: Sooooo I missed the YDGTP boys and wanted to give a little bit more of a prequel to give y'all a feel of just how tense shit was between them. Inspired by Jennifer's Body, 'Halloween' by Noah Kahan, 'Cheerleader' by Ashnikko, and @holdingup-fallingsky's glasses Danny edit <3

~~~

It was a dark and stormy night, and Danny could not for the life of him find Sam.

It was the typical shtick with a Halloween twist; Sam proposed going to a Halloween party (of course) with costumes, tacky decorations, and “babes as far as the eye can see”. Danny complained and fought it as hard as he usually did, but Sam won for the thousandth time and Danny found himself rummaging in his closet for any semblance of a costume. After tossing on some cheap glasses frames, a velcro bow tie, and a very slim fitting button down that Danny had zero recollection of ever owning, Danny announced his costume.

“A nerd?” Sam mocked, his voice and subsequent laugh muffled from behind the bathroom door where he had holed up to put the finishing touches on his own costume. “Not straying far from reality, are we?”

“Fuck off,” Danny laughed, adjusting the cheap material of the bowtie that was already beginning to strangle him a little bit. “Come on, do I ever get to see your costume or do you just live in my bathroom now?”

“I’d live in here if it wasn’t so filthy,” Sam accused. “I mean, seriously, man, do you ever take out the trash?”

“You’re deflecting,” Danny shot back in a sing-song, banging on the door. “Open up! Michigan PD, you’re under arrest for loitering!”

“You’ll never take me alive!” Sam screeched. “Geez Louise, one second…”

After what felt like an eternity, the bathroom door swung open with a practiced grandeur and Sam strode out with his arms held high, carrying two tinsel pom poms and donning a ripped up cheerleader outfit. He had put on blush in a way that could only be described as amateur and his long, chestnut waves were pulled up in a high ponytail and fastened with a blue scrunchie. Danny played off his suddenly very dry mouth with a look of shock as Sam did a ceremonious twirl and shook a pom pom right under Danny’s nose. Danny snorted and batted it away.

“A cheerleader?” Danny asked, clearly not sold on the concept. “I guess, just, sort of…why?”

“I’ll be the talk of the town, that’s why,” Sam hummed proudly, smoothing the cheap fabricky pleats of his dizzyingly short cheer skirt. “Also, I mean, I look amazing. So that’s a big plus.”

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that,” Danny murmured, pretending to look away incredulously but doing it purely because he was finding it difficult to look at Sam’s costume at all. He felt the hot flush it provoked in his face and the last thing he needed was for Sam to notice.

“Hey, that’s my shirt!” Sam scoffed, yanking on the collar of Danny’s shirt. “What gives?”

“It was in my closet.” Danny pointed out.

“Yeah, well, it’s not yours,” Sam stammered, putting his hands on his hips and making the pom poms shimmy loudly. 

“What do you care?”

“It looks ridiculous.”

“I’m not sure I’m the ridiculous one here, Miss Team Captain.”

“It’s practically popping off of you, Dan.”

“Here, is this better?”

Danny undid the first top buttons and gestured at his chest.

“Now I’m a sexy nerd,” Danny purred, rolling his eyes and turning away from Sam. He heard Sam make a funny little noise he couldn’t quite identify before letting out an exasperated sigh that he knew all too well. 

“Whatever,” Sam muttered. 

“Get in the car, Stacy, the cheer squad needs you,” Danny joked, grabbing his keys off the wall and tossing a convincing smile back at Sam, already dreading the night that lay before them.

~~

To Danny’s disgust, Sam had been thoroughly right about his costume being a hit. People couldn’t keep their hands off of him; smoothing their palms over the felt number 1 on his chest and lacing their fingers with his to shake the pom poms and asking him over and over again to twirl. Sam, as he always did, gathered his crowd right within eyeshot of Danny, who sat in annoyance on the couch with a full Solo cup. Granted, Danny had corralled a few friends of his own to talk to, but he couldn’t help but sneak glances over at Sam every other minute. With each sip of his drink, Danny warmed up to the truth about why he was so pissed off at all the attention Sam was getting: Sam wanted the attention, but Danny wanted to be the only one to give it. And more glaringly, Danny wanted to be the only opinion that Sam actually cared about. There were all the usual underlying feelings behind it that Danny kept at bay like he always did, but Danny wasn’t all that interested in tuning in to the mushy gushy. As the alcohol softened up his gaze and warmed his limbs, he found his eyes dragging over Sam’s long legs and the curve of his neck, allowing himself to add on to a fantasy in momentary increments. However, after his attention had been drawn into conversation, Danny looked back to find that Sam had disappeared. Without thinking, Danny got to his feet and excused himself, stumbling through the crowd to track Sam down.

--

Danny couldn’t find him. He traversed the entire lower level of the house, ducking under cobwebs and paper bats and even circling the bonfire in the backyard in hopes of catching a glimpse of Sam and his stupid, slutty costume. After making his way back inside, Danny looked at the crepe paper that had been taped from banister to banister on the stairs and knew that if Sam was anywhere, it was where he wasn’t supposed to be. Danny stepped over the makeshift caution tape and jogged up the steps, becoming increasingly convinced that he was going to walk in on Sam and some random in the throes of passion. His stomach flipped and he swallowed thickly, waving off the imagery and reminding himself that he just wanted to know that Sam was safe. That’s all. 

Danny felt pretty bad about snooping around someone’s house that he didn’t know, but he knew Sam wouldn’t, and that’s why he was so certain he would find him up there. Sure enough, Danny hesitantly opened a random door and saw Sam sitting cross legged on a bed, flipping through a thick scrapbook by the warm light of the bedside lamp. His ponytail had been abandoned and the scrunchie was now around his slim wrist, the sequins catching the light as he continued to look through the scrapbook. His upper body was swaying slightly in a seasick, wobbling way that let Danny know Sam was properly drunk, which was further confirmed when he looked up at Danny and let out a surprised gasp.

“Oh my god, hi!” Sam greeted cheerfully, dropping the scrapbook and holding his arms out to Danny. “Come here.”

“You want a hug?” Danny giggled, his annoyance already melting away. Sam tended to do that to him, despite the annoyance always coming back tenfold after some time.

“No, help me up,” Sam whined. He hooked his arms around Danny’s neck as Danny pulled him to his feet, making no motion to move away as he sank into Danny’s embrace and let out a comical sigh, nestling his face into the crook of Danny’s neck. Danny let out a low chuckle and held him lightly, his heart threatening to beat through his chest as Sam swayed in his arms. 

“Don’t fall asleep on me, Sammy,” Danny joked, his voice cracking slightly and making him cringe at his own sudden ineptitude around his friend of over 10 years. He could hardly believe how pathetic he was sometimes.

“But you’re so cozy,” Sam argued, his voice muffled and sweet against Danny’s skin. 

“Do you wanna go home?” Danny asked gently, the noise of the party oddly melting away as he tentatively smoothed a hand over Sam’s hair.

“No!” Sam suddenly cried, straightening and pushing off of Danny, only to fall back onto the bed again with a bounce. He began to giggle raucously, holding his hands over his face as hiccups began to edge their way between laughs. Danny rolled his eyes and moved to pick Sam up again, but Sam swatted at his chest and wiggled out of his grasp.

“No, no, let me rest, you goon,” Sam slurred defiantly, even drawing a knee up to kick at Danny’s chest. “Ssh, I’m sleeping. I’m honking my mimi’s.”

“You can sleep at home, Sam,” Danny argued patiently, trying again to scoop Sam up and onto his feet. “Come on, up and at em, soldier.”

“I’m not your soldier,” Sam shot back, lifting his chin proudly. “I’m a cheerleader.”

“The very best,” Danny assured him with a grin, his breath beginning to shake with nerves as Sam’s hands reached for him, red hot and wandering as he grabbed at Danny’s shoulders and biceps. 

“You’re so strong,” Sam murmured, finally allowing Danny to pull him up again, swaying on the spot as his blurry eyes blinked up at Danny. His eyes were amber and nearly animalistic in the lamplight and Danny had to look away, kneeling down to pick up the abandoned scrapbook and tucking it where he hoped it belonged.

“What are you even doing up here?” Danny asked. 

“Bored,” Sam shrugged, beginning to wander around the outskirts of the room. “There weren’t even any good costumes here tonight which is so lame. And, I mean, there’s a whole floor we’re not even using? Of course I’m going to scope it out.”

“Yeah, you’re always where you shouldn’t be,” Danny teased, a touch of bitterness lacing his words. When he looked up at Sam again he knew his tone had gone right over his head, seeing as Sam was leaned up against the wall with his eyes trained on the ceiling fan, his head bobbing slightly as he followed each rotation. Danny allowed to indulge in another moment of observation, taking note of Sam’s exposed stomach and his arms tucked coyly behind his back. He was jolted out of it by Sam meeting his eye and grinning wickedly.

“Hi,” Sam sang softly, cocking his head at Danny.

“You ready to go now?” Danny asked, now desperate to get Sam as far away from him as soon as possible. He got to his feet and approached Sam, getting ready to argue before Sam surprised him by lacing his arms around Danny’s neck again and pulling him in close.

“Do you remember,” Sam started, whispering conspiratorially. “When we were younger, and we used to play boyfriend girlfriend?”

Danny felt an electric shock go through his body at the memory. It had been a truly innocent game, simply practicing the day to day motions they thought they might have to go through when they were old enough and had girlfriends. Who better to play with than your best friend? Plus, Danny had secretly always really liked calling Sam his “girlfriend”, and doing all the fake grand gestures to ensure his happiness had come very naturally. Sam had always said he was the best at being the boyfriend, and Danny had always believed it. 

“Yeah, sure,” Danny replied in confusion, his cheeks prickling with uncomfortable warmth again. 

“You’re always playing it when we go to parties and you don’t even realize,” Sam laughed. Danny’s eyes widened subconsciously and he stammered, knitting his brow in further confusion.

“What?” Danny managed, attempting a light hearted laugh. 

“You do!” Sam crowed in amusement, stabbing an accusatory finger into the center of Danny’s chest. “You love to boyfriend me. Years of practice. You miss it, huh?”

“Wow, you’re hammered,” Danny said dismissively, shaking his head. 

“‘S’not the point,” Sam sighed, his head dropping onto Danny’s chest, his soft hair brushing against Danny’s exposed skin and sending a shockwave through Danny’s reflexes. 

“I’m taking you home, Sam, end of story,” Danny whispered in Sam’s ear, attempting to straighten his neck before Sam’s hand reached up and pulled Danny’s head back down. Sam’s lips went to Danny’s ear in a whisper of his own.

“I hate you wearing my fucking shirt,” Sam whispered, his voice shockingly sober and coherent in the blink of an eye. A cold sweat broke out over Danny’s body and he felt his breaths coming out in jagged, stilted intervals as Sam kept him anchored to him. 

“You wanna take it off me, then?” Danny ventured, his voice matching Sam’s barely audible pitch. He tried to make it a joke but his voice fell flat and serious. He could have sworn he heard Sam’s voice hitch before Sam let go of him, allowing Danny to step back and boggle at Sam’s bizarre behavior. Sam had such an odd glint in his eye, assessing Danny with his lip tucked between his teeth as he continued to struggle to stay standing. For a moment, Danny considered what he would do if he was less restrained than he had learned to be around Sam. There was a massive part of him that was aching and begging for him to pin Sam against the wall and tear away at that infuriating little skirt, holding him down by the warmth of his waist and shutting him up with his teeth and tongue. But he knew he couldn’t, so he stood with a scowl on his face and challenged Sam again.

“What?” Danny snapped, his frustration growing as Sam continued to refuse to leave. That’s all Danny wanted right now, but Sam never, ever gave him what he wanted. 

“I…” Sam trailed off and didn’t pick it back up, simply staring a hole through Danny’s head. Danny could practically hear the gears turning in Sam’s brilliant brain, but all that followed was silence. It was the loudest silence Danny had ever heard, and he wondered with a jolt if there was something Sam wanted to say that was akin to what Danny had been screaming into pillows and scrawling in journals for years now. Without a word, Danny pleaded with Sam to just say it so he could stop slowly crushing himself under the weight of whatever it was between them that neither of them wanted to touch. But he knew he wouldn’t, and Sam didn’t, and Danny let out a sigh that threatened to bring tears with it. He walked to the door and opened it, motioning with a nod of his head.

“We’re going,” Danny said firmly, taking off the stupid glasses frames and ripping off the bowtie with an extension of his pinkie, crumpling them into a ball in his hand and tucking them into his pocket.

“But-”

“I don’t want to play anymore, Sam,” Danny snapped, unable to even look at Sam when he said it. “I’m not your fucking boyfriend, which you’ve made very clear, by the way, so I’m not going to force you to do anything. But if you want a ride home and you don’t want to wake up choking on your own vomit in some random person’s studio apartment, the time is now.”

There was a beat of silence, and when Danny turned to look at Sam, he felt a stab of guilt when Sam gawked at him like he’d been slapped across the face. Sam let out a wordless scoff and pushed his way past Danny, turning to glare up at him.

“I can take care of myself,” Sam hissed, his words still blurry and drunk around the edges. “I don’t need you.”

“You won’t be thinking that tomorrow morning,” Danny countered fiercely. Sam rolled his eyes and began to descend the stairs, his sneakers slamming into each step as he ran away from Danny. Danny, as always, ran after him with a growing sickness in his chest. Sam stopped before he reached the front door, looking back at Danny one more time.

Danny knew he had to say it now. He wanted to. 

He wanted to beg Sam to calm down and to beg for his forgiveness, worshipping on his knees for his grace like he’d been doing for what felt like his entire life. 

But he didn’t. 

So out the door Sam went, slamming it and leaving Danny alone.

Again.

~~~ 

[clownboybebop]

if you’re ever in the position to choose between giving up and accepting defeat, and actually trying to fight the ancient unkillable god that is about to peel apart reality like a string cheese, remember this: scientifically speaking, you might as well give it a shot!

1.there were trees at the beginning of the world! there were trees so long ago that they predate bacteria that causes wood to decay. when a tree fell, it would lie there in stasis and there wasn’t any way of breaking down wood xylem on a molecular level in that way.

2. it seems obvious to say, but wood eating bacteria are literally incapable of comprehending what they’re breaking down. It’s just not information conciously available to a microorganism. they don’t know what they’re deconstructing, where it came from, bacteria have no way to even fathom the existence of a tree as a concept.

3. Regardless of the facts above, the world we live in today is a world where wood inevitably decomposes

it is worth fighting the unkillable god no matter how pointless it seems. it is worth taking the risk even though youre trying to accomplish something impossible. the reality in which you live was also once reality in which trees didn’t rot. You live in a reality that allows for existence before the possibility of destruction. you live in a reality where uncomprehending microbes break down matter that is so far beyond the scope of their comprehension that it feels comical to specify something so obvious. you live in a reality that occasionally allows unshakeable physical truths to be altered with no warning.

It is worth fighting the unkillable god because trees are so old they predate the source of their destruction, and it still did not spare them. It is worth fighting the unkillable god because bacteria rots unthinkingly, because there is room in our cosmos for destruction without comprehension on the part of the destroyer. It is worth fighting the unkillable god because now and then reality retracts the promise of immortality without fanfare, and when that happens there is no mercy for the ancient. the unmaking is not softer for the desecrators ignorance. for all things, existence is endless until the exact point where it ends.

so you might as well try to kill the unkillable god. it doesn’t seem likely, but at the beginning of the world, trees didn’t rot. so you never know! you never know

[fantarain]

big fan of the new kitties

[iwasbored777]

I hope no one did this yet

[hajihiko]

💕

[buntanteen]

cockwarming dilf!mingyu thoughts (nsfw)

summary: thoughts on reader cockwarming dilf!kim mingyu :3

contains: 18+ nsfw! mdni!!

✩ svt writing & fic rec masterlist ✩

thinking about cock warming and slow fucking dilf!mingyu

after closing the bedroom door behind him, mingyu turns to meet your gaze. the moment the two of you make eye contact, you both gravitate towards each other. the slow movements of feeling up his chest turn into rapid ones trying to undress each other.

walking backwards to mingyu bed, falling into the white sheets with him hovering about you. grazing open mouthed kisses and licks across each other's necks. nosing against each other’s skin as he slips into you. feeling so so so full as you grind down onto his pretty cock.

slow movements of mingyu's hips hitting every spot making you in absolute bliss. the pace slowing down to barely slow fucking. heavy breaths, quiet moans and slips of whimpers filling the room.

trying to keep quiet so none of his kids hear the two of you. mingyu having his arms wrapped around you and his head laying on top of your chest. you have one hand trailing down the curve of his broad back. the other hand is carding your fingers through his hair to move it away from his sweaty forehead.

the summer evening breeze cooling down your flushed skin. the sunset view illuminating his honey skin. the warmth of your and mingyu's bodies lulling the two of you to sleep.

ames note: my other mingoo writing -> bestie fwb!mingyu headcanons

author note: do not distribute my work on other platforms without my consent. if you see my writing in places other than this tumblr account, please let me know. my writings are purely fictional fantasises for fun. the people i write about are real human beings and should still be treated as such. please do not take my writings seriously or as truth.

[kosmical]

am i a bad brother sister ?

[rileyclaw]

turn on the lights, this cannot last forever

watching and dreaming promo

[sapphoherselz]

a real shame that Neil doesn't like using his phone cause it's a big missed opportunity to flip it closed with an attitude like:

"Hello, Junior. Do you remember me?"

[azurechicken]

It is a good thing that the BG3 team is attentive and we get updates all the time, but where does it end? If they are going to continue changing stuff about the game per request, what will be there left of what they envisioned in the first place? Especially for character traits and dialogue, like making them kinder and more likeable, just because there were two more people asking for it and they happened to see it. I just don't want to see characters shift into generic ones just because of a need to respond to everyone's ideas

[februaryberries]

trying to keep the porn bots away from my blog like

[unhappy-sometimes]

Laughin

yo bro who got you smiling like that?

them <3

what’re they so happy about?

[imaredshirt]

Give me a Stan who thinks Fiddleford doesn't know how to throw a punch, much less defend himself in a fight with your average goon, so one morning he takes it upon himself to show the nerd a few basic jabs and hooks and maybe an uppercut or two behind the cabin, because let's face it, there's gonna be a time when Stan can't be there to take a hit for the guy or defend his nerd butt. So he's gonna teach him some stuff for his own peace of mind.

Fiddleford just kind of genially goes along with it, following Stan around the back of the cabin and watching with hands on his hips and a smile as Stan gets into position.

"This is one of the most basic punches in the world, so pay attention, 'cause I'm not gonna show you again," Stan says, knees slightly bent and fists up.

Fidds nods. "You've got my full attention, Stanley."

Stan isn't sure if he's imagining the way Fidds is eyeing him up and down, but he automatically flexes his arms a little more than he needs to. Up ahead, Ford is sitting on a tree stump and taking samples of the air or something (Stan had stopped listening to Ford's explanation once his words went from interesting to Big Science Shit that Stanley Does NOT Care About) and he's watching them with this amused grin, rolling his eyes skyward when Stan won't stop flexing and showing his arms off.

Stan ignores him and rolls his shoulders before jabbing his fists forward in a quick one-two. "There - you catch that?"

Fidds has got his arms crossed now and gives Stan a thumbs up. "Sure did!"

"See, just like this," Stan says, and shows him again despite saying earlier that he wouldn't.

He shows him a few more punches, going over each one a couple times before telling the engineer to mirror him, even getting in close to adjust the guy's scrawny arms and balled fists. He's being real professional about it and everything and doesn't understand why Ford keeps grinning and shaking his head at them, which is making him a little incensed but he stamps it down because Fidds is watching him with this nerdy, dopey smile while letting himself be maneuvered around and he's gotta learn to defend himself 'cause Stan can't stand the thought of some jerkwad wiping that smile off the nerd's face.

"See," he says near the end of the lesson, tapping his fist right against Fidds’s chin. "Do it right and your fist'll hit right here."

Fidds tilts his head a fraction at the touch. "Well alright then, seems easy enough."

"Yeah, like I said, if you do it right. Gimme your hand-" he takes Fidds’s wrist and taps the guy's balled fist against his own stubbly jaw. "Right here. You got that?"

Fidds nods. "Sure do!"

"Good." Stan drops Fidds’s wrist and gets into position again. "Then come on - lay one on me."

Fidds pulls back and blinks at him. "Come again?"

"Hit me!" Stan taps his jaw. "Right here!"

The guy suddenly looks nervous and galnces over at Ford for help. "Hit you? Stanley, I don't think-"

This is what Stan means. Fidds isn't always gonna be able to look to him or Ford to save him. He gets this weird, uncomfortable feeling in his chest at the thought of Fidds facing off against some asshat on his own, and that alone is enough to keep him from letting the guys off easy, if only to get rid of the weird feeling. Maybe a bit selfish but he doesn't care.

"Ah, come on, one little punch ain't gonna hurt ya, Fidds."

"I'm not worried about me," Fidds says, and then frowns when Stan barks a laugh.

"You think you're gonna hurt ME?"

Fidds is still frowning when Ford calls over in an amused, warning tone, "This is not a good idea, Stanely!"

"Just worry about your air test or whatever and leave us alone," Stan calls back. Ford shrugs and scribbles something in his journal, and when Stan turns back to Fidds, Fidds is finally getting into position.

He looks unsure, watching Stan nervously as Stan stands before him with his arms crossed.

"Hey, not bad form - you ready?"

"Well, I suppose so," Fidds says, accent coming in a little thicker than before. "Stan, if you're sure, I should probably warn ya-"

"Don't tell me nothing, just punch me!"

Fidds presses his lips into a line and throws his fist - and jabs Stan on the chin just hard enough to tilt Stan's head half an inch to the side.

"That's it?" Stan guffaws and shakes his head. "That was barely a tap!"

"I don't wanna hurt ya!" Fidds says, sounding so conflicted that Stan gets this urge to pull him into a headlock and ruffle his hair and drive the worry away.

Instead he riles him up.

"Please," he says. "Fidds, look - one of these days I'm not gonna be there to take a hit for you, and then what're you gonna do? Just let some jerk punch ya around?"

Fidds looks slightly perplexed. "Where is this all comin from? No, Stanley, I am NOT gonna just let some jerk punch me around."

"Good! So you gotta learn to defend yourself!" Fidds still looks unsure, so Stan tries a different angle. "Okay, how 'bout this - what if some jerks are beating up on me and Ford, huh? You're just gonna let em?"

Fidds looks up. "What? No, I am not!"

"You're gonna defend us?"

"Dangnabbit, Stan - of course I am!"

"Not gonna let us get our teeth kicked out?"

"What!? No!"

"Then show me!" Stan slaps a hand against his own chin. "Right here, come on! I'm some jerk who just threw your friend Stan to the ground and I'm about to kick him in the gut, what're ya gonna-"

The blow lands hard. Stan's head jerks to the side and he's thrown off balance, and he sees actual stars before his vision clears again and he realizes he's crumpled on the ground. His head swims as hands pull him around onto his back.

"Mother o pearl!" Fidds gasps. He's got his hands on Stan's face, careful touch at complete odds with the punch he'd just landed in the same place. "Are you alright? I am so sorry! I hit ya and you weren't even ready and - you just got me so riled up and I tried to tell ya and I shoulda said earlier instead o just lettin ya show me all those moves, but I just wanted to, well - goddangit, Ford, this ain't funny."

Ford's laughing as he comes up behind them, looking down at where Stan is staring kinda dazedly up at Fidds, who's kneeling by his side in the cool grass. "We did try to tell him, Fiddleford."

"Tell me what?" Stan demands. His jaw is already aching but Fidds’s hands feel kinda good so he doesn't tell him to move.

"Fiddleford was a boxing champion back back in his hometown," Ford says.

Stan blinks. "Bwuh-?"

"Not much of a champion," Fidds says with a wince, but he's blushing a bit as he goes on, "It was never anythin official, but - well, I did win more than a few matches at some backyard parties, see, and - well, people usually don't think I got any hittin power or can defend myself, but my Ma's been all too happy to teach me since I was little, and-"

The guy's rambling, and Stan quits being able to understand what he's saying half way through cause the accent is coming in thick and Ford’s chuckling and standing there looking proud of his best friend and Stan’s a little worried that he's still jarred from the hit, cause when he looks at Fidds kneeling there, one hand one Stan's chest and the other bashfully rubbing his neck while he rambles on - he's still seeing stars.

Later, while Stan sits in the living room with an bag of ice in his jaw and Fiddleford sitting next to him, still rambling about all the times he'd knocked a few guys into the mud in some backcountry hoedown get-together or whatever, Stan can lean back and relax and grin, knowing Fidds is gonna be just fine.

He can't wait to teach him wrestling.

[cowboythighs]

steddie semi-meet cute where adult star steve (whos attempting a record-breaking gangbang) falls for a mystery man (eddie) who takes him from behind and babbles (endearingly) in his ear nonstop until he finishes and is shuffled out. the only problem: steve never saw him—never got his name!

so steve does the only logical thing and gets a list of the participants from the producers and tracks them down, hoping to find the man he’s fallen for. when he gets to the last name on the list—wayne munson in forest hills trailer park.

steve’s disappointed when an older man—with a voice that’s clearly not his guys—answers the door and says he’s the only wayne munson living there. seeing steve’s despair, wayne invites him in for a drink and sets steve down at the kitchen table with a hot cup of coffee (with a healthy splash of bourbon) and a slice of chocolate cake and asks what brought steve to his door.

steve isn’t ashamed of his job, but he also is very aware of being alone in an unfamiliar home with a man he doesn’t know, so he glosses over the fine details and tells wayne that he’s an actor and he fell in love with an extra on scene and was trying to find him.

steve finds that talking to wayne is easy, and between the chocolate and the hot drink and a sympathetic ear, he starts to feel a bit better. he doesn’t know why someone used wayne’s name and address, but he’s glad his path crossed with waynes none the less.

wayne might not have answers to who his mystery guy is, but he’s a great listener and offers great advice.

when steve hears a car pull up outside, he regrets that their conversation must be coming to an end.

“don’t you worry about that,” wayne says, waving him off when steve tries to make his excuses. “that’s just my boy; he’s supposed to cook for me tonight. you should stay for dinner. he makes a mean lasagna.”

before steve can protest further, the front door opens and all ideas of leaving are gone. because the guy walking in looks like steves wet dreams—like the kind of guy he used to dream about skipping class with so he could rail steve over the picnic table in the woods behind the school.

wayne’s nephew has his hands full—bags of groceries hanging from both arms, a dish in hand that steve assumes is the lasagna, and an orange cat yowling at his heels while he apologizes to his uncle for being late.

steve’s so caught up in looking at eddie that he barely registers wayne explaining steve’s presence there.

when eddie turns to look at him, steve can tell eddie feels the same way about steve—that instant connection.

feeling confident, steve steps forward and offers his hand.

“i’m steve,” he says with his prettiest smile.

“i’m eddie. i think we’ve met before.”

[lottiies]

get in they’re waiting for you

[somegrumpynerd]

When your ruthless henchmen have pack bonded and continually lie in a pile like kittens