#misty-egg

[mothric]

hi this is so unimportant but I saw your tags - the cuttof spotify wrapped is USUALLY novemeber 1st but this year it was roughly 1-2 weeks later because they had some update stuff at the end of october, they tweeted about it! :)

see I saw an article earlier this year where spotify was like "noo, whattt, the cut-off was never November 1st that's crazy" and MY theory is they realized how many people caught on so they changed the date just to throw us off the scent

[mitsybubbles]

Transition could have saved Thiollier

[theastronovastarlight]

✨🌑Another Comic Dub Which I Wanted To Do For So Long!🌑✨

Cast: Starlight - Sonic, Misty - Amy, Sally - Darien, (Character In Progress) Mighty - Posie, (Character In Progress) Ray - Lavender, (Character In Progress) Egg Boss Thunderbolt - Lizzie!

✨PART 2?✨

[mypokemonscreencaps]

[tornrose24]

Since it came in second place on that pole, I revisited that Corpse Bride AU next... which I haven’t touched since 2017/2018. This time I tried going for a more accurate version of the story, and actually have CU and Krupp be separate people instead of being the same person due to some weird story plot. (And hey, unlike with Burton, this one features actual Jewish characters like in the original tale!)

I also benefit from coming back later and having more characters to use, as now nearly all the actual good adults are in the land of the dead.

(The original images are here, but be warned that the quality isn’t the best due to having a not so great tablet at the time. However it’ll give you an idea of what Edith’s wedding dress for this AU looks like).

[mistythedritten]

Fic Monday, on a Wednesday!

We meant to post this on Monday… but then stuff happened. Yeah. But here it is!

We have a 3rd author, however she hasn’t allowed people to add her as a co-author, so she’ll be added later

[lavendertownfreak]

Since this little guy lives in the cemetery and is basically in charge of maintaining the flowers in the garden around Mr. Fuji’s memorial (and some trainers ask what this guy is when they try to challenge the gym), I thought I’d introduce yall to one of my stranger buddies (though not as strange as Korbo).

This is Egg! Found him on a little expedition gym leader Blue payed Vi and I to join him on (the gym leaders we’re buddies with are weird) that went to document the presence of some thought to be extinct Pokemon that allegedly (and genuinely do) live in the area around the Sinnjoh Ruins. Met this little flower bomb pretty much immediately on arrival. Started following us around and then proceeded to effectively catch themself! Don’t know what compelled me to name them Egg… Unlike the other “extinct” mon I caught there, Blue let me take Egg back to Lavender Town. Now their job is to spread flowers around the garden, and we even sometimes have people request Egg plant flowers around the graves of their departed. He’s probably one of the most well loved by the community Pokemon that work in the graveyard (funny given the fact that Egg’s kin were considered pests in their day). IDK if Blue ever published our findings, since Unown are really fuckin common there and have this nasty habit of making space-time go all fucky (meaning the very limited populations we found could just as easily by Unown sourced anomalies as they could be living populations [not to mention the fact that most of our spotted species were one offs with the exception of Voltorb interestingly enough]). So yeah! If you see Egg rolling around the graveyard, say hi! They’re super friendly and social, and almost definitely won’t try and explode in your face! (Don’t plug the hole though, Egg will get stressed and explode on the spot if you do.) They’re really not much of a battler (though they do like watching gym battles given that they happen in the garden), but I’ll give their set below:

Nature: Jolly

Ability: Seed Sower

Moves: Stun Spore/Energy Ball/Charge Beam/Rain Dance

If any of you people are interested, I might just make a post about the Sinnjoh expedition. We found some weird shit.

[mistyechoes]

not being able to cook sucks. like yay I wonder which of the 4 options I'll choose to eat today

[jojoware]

first new music video to capture my attention in a long time

[thedreamcolors]

Today's Good Mood Is Sponsored By Weed

[cordeliawhohung]

Touch Me 'Till I Vomit (pet!au) [6]

pet!au part 6 | ghoap x fem!reader | tag list | early access available on patreon

open wide

cw: overall theme of non-con, dub-con medication taking, mouth inspection, lots of exposition

Everything hurts when you wake up.

Though you’re plagued by an ache that targets your hips, shoulders, and back, it’s namely your throat that hurts the most, which is something to be said considering you’ve been sleeping in a kennel for the last week. It’s a surprisingly spacious cage, tucked into the far corner of the bedroom across from the large bed Johnny and Simon sleep on. A small, foam pad fits perfectly inside of the bottom of the cage, providing you with some cushioning between your body and the frigid, metal bottom of the cage, but it’s certainly far from humane. There’s not enough room for you to stand up in it, but you’re grateful to at least be able to stretch the full length of your legs out.

It’s jerry-rigged, you’re sure of it. Not store bought, but handmade with spare metal bars and a half decent welding job. By the size of it, you’re certain it used to hold something much larger than yourself. As for what — or who — it was, you don’t even want to venture a guess. Every night, Simon locks you in with a padlock, trapping you for the hours everyone is asleep. You wake each morning with a full bladder, but he wakes you up no later than six in the morning, allowing you to use the bathroom before he starts getting ready for his day.

In some ways, Simon is considerate like that. Always ensuring you’re not going too long without any sort of need. Never starves you, or has done anything to intentionally cause devious harm. But there are many instances where he is not so generous.

Like last night, when Johnny got needy. He had complained something fierce the first night Simon locked you up. The man can hardly go a few hours without needing to put his hands on you in some capacity, and you took note of the way his blue eyes grew misty seeing you locked away out of his reach. Simon assured him it was only a temporary solution until he could get you fixed — which you’re still too scared to ask what getting you fixed means — but that could only quell Johnny’s emotions for so long.

He had lasted six days before he needed to put his hands on you again. To his credit, you had expected him to crack significantly sooner, and a part of you wished he had. Perhaps he would have been easier on your throat if you hadn’t pitifully shrugged off all his attempts he passed at you during the daytime while Simon was away. It all came to a head last night when Simon was getting ready to lock you away until morning when Johnny decided he just couldn’t handle it anymore.

Johnny has a way of begging that makes you feel bad for him, and Simon has a gaze that tells you it would be stupid to refuse his favorite pet. So you obeyed. Got on your knees like a good pet while Johnny abused your throat with his cock. You’ve gotten better at not crying when it happens, and he’s gotten better about letting you breathe while he uses you. Still, your eyes water on their own volition, blurring your view of Johnny above you and Simon behind him, going about his nightly routine as if you’re not being torn to shreds on the bedroom floor.

You’re still feeling the effects of it this morning as Simon unlocks your cage and allows you to relieve yourself in the restroom. In a way, it almost feels like strep. Raw skin sticks to itself, and you try your best to choke the ache to soothe the pain, but it always seems to come back. It dries and cracks, and you’re wholly surprised that you can’t taste blood when you swallow.

Breakfast that morning is the same as it usually is: eggs, toast, milk, bacon, sausage — everything fresh and homemade. Simon insists that the three of you sit at the table for every meal as if he’s afraid you’ll choke and die off without him. No one makes conversation, and if anything is said, it’s usually some sort of comment made by Johnny. He thanks Simon for the food, and compliments how juicy the bacon is before he silences himself by eating. All you do is keep your head down and attempt to keep the attention off of you.

It’s a strange thing, surviving in that place. You exist so quietly you hardly feel like you’re in your own body. In order to live, you have to play the part. The chew toy. The pet. Bonnie. It’s a balancing act between remembering who you are, and behaving well enough that Simon has no reason to punish you. Whether you like it or not, it’s easy math. You stand no chance of escaping that place on your own. Still, as you pick at your eggs and nibble on your toast, you quietly promise to yourself that you’ll get out of there one day. No matter what it takes.

Something’s different when Simon leaves for work today. Johnny’s not hounding you the moment the door shuts. Usually, he demands that you sit with him to watch a movie of some sort on the countless DVD’s and VHS tapes stored on old bookshelves in the living room. It’s not a terrible way to pass the time, and there are a few movies you rather enjoy. Every now and then you’ll fall asleep and wake up with his hands groping your chest or shoved down your pants like you’re some play-thing, but he’s oddly quiet this time.

Once breakfast is finished, he takes his plate, cleans it up and then leaves you alone after giving you a chaste kiss on the cheek. His figure vanishes down the hallway that leads to the back of the house — a place you have yet to explore. His disappearance is marked by the shutting of a very squeak door, and you finally feel like you can breathe easier. You’re not curious enough to follow him, and you’re certainly not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. A moment of peace and quiet in your life is rare these days when you’re too busy playing the pliable fawn so that you’re not hurt — or worse.

Enjoying your rare solitude, you take refuge by the open window in the living room. There’s an old recliner that smells vaguely like oak and grass that you like to curl up in while you read one of the old classical books Simon has stored next to the fireplace. It’s been a few days since you’ve really been able to get a breath of fresh air, but it doesn’t do much to calm your nerves. Though you’ve been there for a week, it’s strenuous trying to comprehend the situation you’ve found yourself in. Your fingers fiddle with your name tag as you rest your eyes from reading and look out at the trees that line the edge of the property, lush with the summer heat and rain.

It’s an enticing view with foliage that dances freely in the breeze. Grass and moss covers the field haphazardly, covering everything in a soft blanket of vibrant green. It whispers for you to run toward it and never look back. To soak in the feeling of the earth between your bare toes.

You know better than to run from a man who already has your scent memorized.

Your mind flashes back to the bath Simon gave you a few days ago, where he had you get dressed in clothes you already owned, and washed you with the same soap you’ve been using for years. How many signs did you miss? How long did you live in blissful ignorance to the insidious intentions that were being planned for you? Would you still be at home right now, safe in your own bed away from these freaks had you done anything different? Or were you always destined to be stuck there? Locked away in some home. How cruel and fickle fate can be.

Simon smells like blood and muscle when he gets home. You’ve gathered from the fresh nicks on his knuckles and old scars that litter his hands that he does some sort of blue-collar work. Judging by the fact he always seems to come home with some type of meat to cook up for dinner, you’re guessing he’s a butcher. You wonder if that’s why he’s keeping you and Johnny. Perhaps something in that twisted, stupid brain of his is unable to love the animals he tears apart limb by limb. Maybe he keeps you in order to cover up his guilt.

When Johnny emerges from whatever room he had holed himself up in for the entire day, he’s disheveled. Messy, black strands of hair stray flippantly from the shape of his mohawk, and the sides of his hands are darkened with some sort of grey dust. It reminds you of the graphite stains you would get as a kid practicing writing skills in school. Still, he’s all giggles and grins for Simon as he rubs up against him. Sickeningly loyal. Such a good dog.

He stays just as close and attached to Simon all throughout dinner, and just like you did that morning, you keep your head down while you eat. If Johnny wants to play the part of the devoted pet, that’s fine by you. Anything to keep Simon’s burning gaze away from you.

As he eats his meal, you wonder if he dreams of cutting you up. Shredding tendon from bone and shoving you into his maw like you’re a well deserved meal. You wouldn’t put it past him, that type of violence. He’s been more than content with collaring you and treating you like an animal, it would make sense. You wonder if he likes playing with his food before he eats.

“Bonnie.”

There’s hardly enough time for you to wash your plate after dinner before Simon’s demanding your attention. Despite the insane size of this man, he has an odd ability that allows him to sneak around the house nearly undetected, and by the time you turn around to answer him, he’s already in your space. You swallow as you look up at him. That terrible rawness still plagues your throat, but you know better than to stay silent.

“Yes?”

He has a small package in his hands that he keeps rotating, inspecting it closely, drawing your own eyes to it. It’s a thin sheet full of several small tablets that are meant to be poked through the foil encasing it. You count each row — seven tablets each in four total rows. An odd sensation tugs at your stomach as you realize what he’s got: birth control pills.

Relief floods through you as Simon fetches a small glass of water. You’re not sure how he got them — and you’re not sure you want to know — but if this is his idea of fixing you, then you’ll take it. It’s certainly better than your other theories of him potentially trying to perform an actual surgery on you himself. You’d wager he’s good with knives, but not that good. Though, he’d probably like tearing you apart like that, but you refuse to entertain that thought. You’ll take the pills.

Anything to not get pregnant.

Simon places one of the small pills in the palm of your hand, and you turn it over in your fingers. It looks legitimate. Not something that’s manufactured in someone’s basement, at least. You pray that your instincts are right as you place it on your tongue before swallowing it down with a gulp of water. It goes down just as easy as you anticipated, and it settles in your stomach without protest.

There’s hardly enough time for you to set the glass on the counter next to you before Simon’s fingers dig into your cheeks. You whine as you brace your hands against his chest, eyes already wetting from the pain as his grip grows too firm to be loving. You wince at the pressure and stare up at him with bewildered eyes.

“Open,” he demands.

You instantly comply, praying that he’ll loosen his grip if you do, but he doesn’t. Instead, he starts to tilt your head side to side, inspecting every inch of your open mouth as he presses the inside of your cheeks against your teeth. He looks about ready to shove his fingers into your mouth, to feel every inch of your wet tongue and dull teeth, but he doesn’t. Once he’s determined that you’re not hiding the pill underneath your tongue or in the pockets of your cheeks, he relinquishes his grip on you. His fingers leave a lasting pain that throbs just underneath your skin, and you stare up at him like he’s betrayed you, as if you should have expected any better of him.

“Good girl,” he says, voice dull.

“Does this mean I can have her now?”

You hadn’t realized Johnny had been behind you, and when you turn to face him his eyes are full of wonder. This is the downside of birth control, you realize. Now that you’re on the pill — now that you’re fixed — Johnny’s going to have free rein of you. If he fucks you as often as he abuses your throat, you know you’re in for a bad ride. Your cunt already hurts at the thought of it.

“Down boy,” Simon snaps.

Johnny’s shoulders tense and he frowns at Simon’s harsh tone. The poor, pathetic thing looks wounded as Simon disregards you and approaches his favorite pet. His pale hands look out of place on the warmth of Johnny’s arms as he pulls him close. It’s uncharacteristically soft. Johnny melts at his touch and leans into him, lips parted in a silent plea for an embrace.

“Look at you. Poor mutt,” Simon croons. Despite the abrasiveness of his words, his voice is the softest you’ve ever heard from him. “Have I been neglectin’ you? Gone too long without a proper fuck? Want me to fix that?”

A switch flips inside Johnny. You can tell by the way his eyes widen and how he begins to paw at Simon’s chest, like he’s trying to tear his clothes off right then and there in the kitchen. Something freezes you to the ground. Forces you to stay still, as if they won’t see you and forget about you if you don’t move. Nothing but prey, hiding from the predators.

“Yes, please Simon,” Johnny whimpers.

“C’mon, I know you can beg. Used to do it all the time before we got Bonnie, yeah? Beg,” Simon demands.

“I’ve been so good,” Johnny says, words exploding out of his mouth before he can stop them.

“Have you?” Simon challenges.

He nods. “Haven’t fucked her, just like you asked. Didn’t even touch her at all today while you were gone.”

Simon smirks, and you avert your gaze like it’s blinded you. “That why you’re so worked up?”

“Please,” he tries again. “I miss you.”

The only thing you hear after that is the sound of their lips crashing together. It’s wet and hungry, and you flinch at the sound of Simon’s groan. Something terrible and sharp twists in your stomach, and you feel sick at their words. Despite the terrible things Simon does, and the grotesque words he calls him, Johnny seems helplessly in love with him. So starved for affection, he’ll take it from the very hand of the man who’s hurting both of you.

“Good boy,” Simon whispers.

Reality shifts, making the air feel thicker, and that’s when you realize that Simon’s attention has been brought to you. There’s no time for you to retract as he reaches his free hand toward you and slips a finger in the loop of your collar. With a swift yank, you’re tumbling toward him with your hands grasping his forearm to try and keep yourself steady.

He chuckles, and you realize you think it’s the first time you’ve ever heard him laugh. You don’t like the sound of it. It’s dark and grating. Gargled like a wolf’s laugh. Something that precedes pain.

“C’mon, Bonnie. Johnny’s hungry.”

[mitsybubbles]

Forgot it was Easter today I just registered it as Serizawa’s birthday 😭

[feather-bone]

Wild turkey with bayberry, burdock, and ferns.

[ID: an illustration of a female turkey in a misty green field, facing to the left with one foot raised. The border is blue and gold with turkey feathers, eggs, and tracks. End.]

[mypokemonscreencaps]

[rdng1230]

Tesoro

Ok, down to the wire but here's my submission for day two of @bucktommypositivityweek (although it has an element of the day one prompt too tbh). This slotted well into my strings of fate series so I'll probably post it to ao3 tomorrow.

—-

“Evan.”

He feels Tommy giving featherlight kisses below his ear as he comes back into consciousness. The loft is blanketed with sunlight and he reaches a hand up that is immediately met with Tommy’s wet curls. Warmth spreads through his whole body at the idea that Tommy has a key now. This could become a routine of theirs. 

“Tesoro.” 

Buck has no idea what that means but he’s pretty sure it’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to him. He hums and nuzzles against Tommy’s cheek, pulling the freshly showered man down on top of him. 

Tommy gives a grunt of surprise that quickly turns into an amused laugh. “I missed you too.” Buck shuts him up with another kiss and wraps him into a hug, moving his lips to kiss the top of his head. 

“How was your shift?” Buck’s voice comes out hoarse and sleep ridden. “Good. Just wanted it to be over so I could come and sleep next to you.”

It was one of Buck’s favorite things he’d discovered about Tommy. Sleepiness was like some sort of lovey dovey truth serum for him. It’s not that his boyfriend wasn’t affectionate the rest of the time, but coming off of a 24 or a 48 removed almost any sense of filter he had. Buck’s pretty sure he had heard a “Marry me” when he’d given him a back rub in the 5 minutes before Tommy passed out the other day. 

He knows it was just a slip of the tongue, but it didn’t stop him from breathing out a yes after the tell tale snuffles had confirmed Tommy was asleep. 

Buck gently shifts the nearly unconscious man so his leg splays out across Buck’s hip and the rest of his weight is nestled onto the bed. Tommy’s head ends up falling on his shoulder and his hand makes slow circles on Tommy’s back, rhythmic and comforting as they fall asleep together. 

---

“Tommy?” 

“Hmmmm?” His back faces Evan as he cracks open some eggs on the edge of the pan. Evan has earned himself a damn good omelet after the good morning sex they just had. Or more like good afternoon because of their weird shift hours lately. 

“What does Tesoro mean?” 

It was one of his favorite things about Evan. He will endlessly research his fun facts, but his preferred method of learning things is by hearing it from those he loves. Tommy is still occasionally misty eyed when he remembers that list of individuals now includes him. 

He smiles and bites his bottom lip. It can be intimidating too at times. He’s not asking just to be polite or to make conversation. He’s never had a partner that wants to know him like Evan does. 

“Ummm, translated literally it means treasure.” He coughs, feeling a blush on his cheeks and is grateful that his boyfriend can’t see it. “But in English it would probably be translated as something like ‘cherished’ or darling.” 

He hears Evan’s breath catch and he’s a little worried he’s said too much. “I’ve never… No one’s ever called me something like that.” 

There’s that same breathless and bewildered tone he’d used for the word ‘Saturday’ when Tommy had first kissed him. Whatever Evan’s feeling about it, he doesn’t sense that he’s stepped over a line. Some of the tension eases out of his shoulders. 

“Well, for what it’s worth,” Tommy briefly turns away from his task to get a look at his starry eyed boyfriend sitting at the kitchen island. “I’ve never called anyone something like that.” 

He wills himself to hold Evan’s gaze and let the sincerity of the moment linger. The man’s jaw drops and Tommy tries not to smirk. There really aren't a lot of prettier sights than a flustered Evan Buckley. He turns back to the omelet adding up the chopped up ingredients he’d already set aside. 

The pleasant smells drift through the loft and Tommy thinks not for the first time that he’s never felt more comfortable more quickly than he has with Evan. What they have is lightning in a bottle and he has no intention of letting it slip through his fingers. So when Evan gets his wits back and asks if there was any reason in particular for that nickname, Tommy isn’t surprised when he starts opening up. 

“You know my parents never really cared for each other. I didn’t have a lot of role models growing up for what love and a healthy relationship should look like. To be honest with you, I think that’s why I fought myself so hard on my sexuality. I didn’t think that white picket fence neverending honeymoon phase deal was attainable for anybody much less a gay man in some of the most patriarchal environments in the world. So why go through the trouble, you know?”

He turns around with the now plated omelet and sets it in front of Evan, who looks more interested in him than the food. Tommy loves the electricity of his concentrated face, like he’s trying to soak up every piece of information on him as he possibly can. It’s terrifying and exhilarating and if they weren’t having this conversation on empty stomachs Tommy might’ve resorted to throwing him over his shoulder and taking him back upstairs for another round. 

He gestures toward the plate and Evan digs in, his eyes still fixed on Tommy. 

“The exception to that rule was my grandparents. On my mother’s side.” He continues. “They were head over heels in love till the day my Nonno died. I used to love watching them banter or dance or just, anything really. But I always thought their relationship was some kind of cosmic fluke.”

Tommy takes a sip of water, steeling himself to put his last card on the table. “But um, with you, in more ways than one…” He chuckles a little. “Lightning seems to have struck twice.” 

Evan bites down on a smile like he’s both overwhelmingly pleased and also trying his best to look offended. He fails immediately, devolving into a fit of giggles that makes Tommy fall in love all over again. 

“Anyway,” Tommy says once they’ve gotten their laughter under control. “Tesoro is what they used to call each other. And I don’t know. I just saw you laying there and it suddenly seemed wrong to say anything else.” 

Evan jumps to his feet and moves around the island, lips crashing into Tommy’s with a force. He pulls away just as quickly “You can’t say shit like that to me or I will do something insane like buy you a ring.” 

Tommy grins, pulling him back in for kisses as he fake protests. “No.” He deadpans, kissing Evan’s nose, “Don’t do that.” his cheek, “That’s crazy talk.” his birthmark. 

Tommy feels an affectionate poke to the sides and he’s laughing again. “So that was ok? Calling you that?” 

Evan’s pupils have blown wide, and he pulls Tommy into another deep kiss. 

“Never stop.”

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 25

part 1 | part 24 | ao3

cw: throwing up, recreational alcohol & drug use

“Well, thank fuck I didn’t wear the Reeboks,” Eddie laughs.

Steve groans 'Jesus,' because he doesn't know what else there is to say to that. Eddie came out of nowhere. Materialized like some kind of freaky wizard. And that would— that would be on brand, wouldn’t it?

Eddie the magician. Eddie the shapeshifter.

Maybe Eddie is Misty? Would explain why she left him all those dead rats when he first—

“Oh, fuck.” His stomach rolls at the thought, a hot-cold-nasty-sick shiver down his spine, and he bends forward to retch again. Hits the grass this time at least, right between Eddie’s boots; groans and spits drool into the dirt. Eddie smooths a hand between his shoulder blades, which is nice, even if everything else about this totally blows.

“Godddd,” he moans when the dry heaving stops. He lifts his head to apologize and nearly tips himself into the mess he just made.

“Whoa, whoa whoa, hey; easy,” Eddie shushes, steadying him with both hands. Warm palms against his biceps; firm grip.

“S’nice.”

“Yeah?” Eddie grins, private and soft. "Alright, arms up."

"Mmh?"

"Up! Come on, sweetheart, up you get." He loops Steve’s arms around his neck, wearing him like a cape. Steve giggles into his fluffy curls, nuzzles his nose into them because they're warm and Eddie smells nice, and time does that weird drunk thing where Steve slow blinks and suddenly they're a hundred yards away.

Edge of the creek, downstream from the falls where the water’s just a thin squiggle cut through smooth, mossy stone. Eddie's got Steve facedown across his lap, gathering up his hair and making a headband with his hands, and he's apologizing in advance for Steve-doesn't-know-what.

"Big breath," Eddie warns him, and then he dips Steve's face in the icy stream like he's battering fried chicken in a goddamn egg wash. Two quick dunks, the cold ripping through Steve's nerves; it's all finger-licking fucked.

"What the hell?!" Steve splutters when Eddie lifts him up, rolls him onto his back and smiles down at him.

"Mornin', sunshine!"

"Jesus Christ!"

Eddie's laughing at him hard. "Sorry, big boy. Had to wake you up somehow."

He brushes Steve's bangs off his face, and Steve pants up at him, wide awake now. Trembling. In the dark, Eddie's eyes look nearly black. Two inkpots full of moonlight.

“'M awake," Steve mumbles to distract himself from the sudden kick-throb behind his ribs. "Sorry I barfed on your shoes."

“Ah, comes with the territory.” Eddie kicks his legs out, rinsing the toes of his boots off in the stream. “Drug dealer, remember? Seen a lot worse than this at parties, sweetheart, I can promise you that."

Steve blinks at him. Still feels syrupy and slow like he's wading through mud. Sweetheart. The word's a fog machine in his mind. Hazy warmth; candy clouds. "If... If you're a drug dealer, then... should've woken me up with drugs."

"Oh?"

"Mhmm. Jus' rude not to, really."

Eddie's lips quirk. His eyes are soft, his fingers combing through Steve's hair, and Steve's head is still in his lap, even though it probably shouldn't be. "If you want coke..." he murmurs, his voice a low, fond rumble, "you can just ask for it."

"Yeah?"

"Sure, Stevie."

Steve watches with rapt attention as Eddie reaches into his jacket, pulls out a little baggie and holds it up in question. Steve gulps; nods.

Fuck yeah. He hasn't had coke in forever.

Eddie pours the smallest amount onto the back of one hand, licks the thumb of his other and presses it into the pile, coating it in white powder. He brings it up to Steve's mouth and rests it right against his lip — barest hint of pressure; not hovering, not pushing in. "Well, go on," he smirks.

Steve makes a questioning sound that comes out like a whine, a high, nasal thing in the back of his throat. His cock stirs in his jeans.

"Ask me," Eddie whispers.

"Can I have it?" Steve asks. He can feel Eddie's thumb against his lips as he speaks; has to stop himself from flicking out his tongue to get a taste. "Please?"

"Fuck," Eddie hisses between his teeth. "Yeah, baby." He presses into the meat of Steve's bottom lip; drags it down, exposes skin that's wet and warm. Dances over it with the pad of his thumb — the inside of Steve's lip, his gums, his tongue.

There's no mistaking the sound Steve makes for anything but a moan, throaty and deep as he sucks Eddie's thumb deeper into his mouth; hollows his cheeks, makes Eddie gasp. Makes him twitch his hips up under Steve, and it's good, and Steve feels like there are live wires where his veins used to be, the rush of the coke and Eddie's hands and Eddie's noises in his good ear, and—

"Hey!" someone shouts across the field. Eddie moves like he's been shot at, flinching away from Steve entirely, a hand pressed over his lap as he turns to see who's coming.

Steve lifts his head to look. His mouth is buzzing, lips full and flushed like he's been kissing someone. Kissing Eddie. God, he wants to. Wants to hike him up the falls, shove him hard against a tree.

But he can't. Because Jason Carver's here now.

Great.

—

part 26

gonna do the tag lists in separate reblogs from now on (with the tag "#trailer park steve au taglist" if you'd like to filter that content), comment and let me know if you want me to add you tomorrow (21+ only, please confirm your age if you're asking to be tagged)