#cw: discussion of addiction

[imfinereallyy]

“You hurt me.”

“I know.”

Steve sighs, and he looks at Eddie in his doorway. So much has changed in five years. But Eddie seems the same. Just his hair is a bit longer, he’s got more tattoos, and he’s got scruff on his face that Steve knows when they saw each other last in 87’ would have driven him nuts.

Steve has always liked the idea of Eddie with a beard. It doesn’t matter now, though. “I think you should leave.”

“Steve, I—I just need a chance to explain.” Eddie moves side to side on his feet.

“Explain?” Steve scoffs, crossing his arms across his chest. “You had the chance to explain five years ago before you left. You had the chance to explain the weeks after with no phone calls to me to any of the kids. You had the chance to explain the year after when you talked to everyone but me, and I thought you just needed time. You had the chance a year ago before you cut everyone else off again.”

Eddie hangs his head in shame. “Stevie, please. I know I don’t deserve it. But I just want to talk.”

Steve’s resistance wavers slightly. He moves out of the doorway to let Eddie in. Eddie rushes inside, knowing Steve will change his mind at any moment. Steve shuts the door behind them. “I’m only letting you in because if Robin finds you in our doorway, she will kick your ass. And as much as you hurt me, I don’t actually want to see you in physical pain.”

Eddie smiles a bit, “Still the dynamic duo? You and Robbie? What’s stopping her from beating me up inside?”

“Our cat Sylvia might see. And she’s trying to shield her from as much violence as possible. Says one Sylvia has seen enough.”

“Oh please tell me she is out by now, because that is a giant gay flashing sign.” Eddie chuckles.

Steve can’t help but laugh a little, “Yes, she is. It would be hard if she weren’t, considering she’s dating Nancy. And Nancy is a lot of things, but subtle isn’t one of them. She shows her off any chance she gets.”

“Wow, Robs bagged Wheeler? Never saw that coming.” Eddie lets out a low whistle. “Must have been a blow to the ego for ya, Stevie. Your ex and your best friend.” He mock clutches his heart.

Steve lets out a big laugh this time, “Nah. I encouraged it. They’re my favorite people; they deserve to be happy.”

Eddie softens, “Yea, being a favorite person of Steve Harrington is a very special thing.”

Steve feels ice water in his veins, “What are you doing here Eddie?”

Eddie sighs, “What do you want to hear? Why I needed to come, or why I wanted to? Cause the truth is I needed to come to apologize to you. Give you the explanation you deserve. What I wanted, though, what I wanted is to tell you that I love—“

“Don’t.” Steve chokes.

“Right apologies first.”

“First? First?! Eddie. I don’t know what you could say to me right now that would make anything make sense. We had something good. It took us so long to get to that point. And it was great because we learned about each other and knew each other inside out. Our friendship blossomed into something more, and we were just getting started, and you left. I had thought I was done with love before I met you. But then you came along and made me feel seen and cared for, and then you got weird and distant so quickly, and you fucking left. And then I knew for sure I was done with love. Don’t think it was meant for me. Sure, that’s not on you, but you don’t get to—you don’t get to open old wounds because you feel the sudden desire to come around again.” Steve swallows tears.

Eddie’s face goes through hundreds of emotions. Anger. Shock. Grief. He doesn’t say anything for a minute. They stew in Steve’s words instead. Then finally, Eddie settles on. “I’m an addict.”

Steve, who has thought about a million ways this could go, has never thought of this. “What?” All the tension releases from his body. He just stares hopelessly at Eddie.

“I’m an addict. I'm sober now, I just reached a year, but yeah. I'm an addict. Never thought I would be. But after everything with Vecna and the painkillers they put me on…it got hard. Denied it for a while. Said to myself a little of everything here and there to forget wouldn’t hurt anyone. But then we were becoming something alongside, me spiraling deeper into addiction. And I—fuck this was easier to practice at the meetings.” Eddie runs his hands through his hair. “You didn’t do anything wrong. But I would have hurt you. More than me leaving did. And I couldn’t live with that. I could live with you hating me. It was selfish of me. I wasn’t ready to give up the drugs so I gave up you, and it’s not fair. Not fair that I did that to you, to anyone of you really, but especially you Steve. You just deserved someone who could love you all the time, love you fully. And I thought I did but I think I was using you a little to make myself feel better. That’s not to say I didn’t love you. I did, still do, always will. But we both deserved a better version than what we had.”

Steve feels tears on his cheeks, he isn’t sure what to say. “You didn’t get to make that decision for me.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Steve chokes on a sob, “Dammit Eddie. It was my birthday.”

Something breaks inside them, and suddenly they are in each other's arms, weeping together. There is this fragile broken thing between them, a love that never went away. It is horrible and beautiful and needs so much work to be wonderful once more.

But it was nice to break together again.

“I know. I’m sorry. I can’t say it enough. I’ll make sure every day for the rest of my life that I make it up to you. In any way I can.”

“I don’t know how we can get back Eds. Don’t know if we should.”

“I’ll take you any way you’ll have me. Friend. Lover. A person you only call when you need a ride to the airport. Just let me try; it’s all I ask. I promised I wouldn’t go back to you until I knew I had put the work into myself first. You don’t owe me anything. I would understand if you kicked me out right now. But I need you to know that Steve, I love you anyway you’ll have me. And I have never stopped thinking about you.”

Steve lifted his head from Eddie’s chest. “I’d like to try to get to know you again. This you. See where it goes. But Eds, no matter what, no matter the version of you, I will always care. And I will always be your friend.”

Eddie kisses Steve’s forehead, “Thank you.”

It’s there where Steve and Eddie hug on the wooden apartment floor; they hear the door unlock. “Oh no, she’s home early.”

Eddie doesn’t get to respond because, suddenly, Robin is in the doorway. “Hey, dingus! I brought home an extra latte—“

She freezes at the sight of Eddie before rebooting with a dark look, “Steve, is your nail bat still under your bed?”

——

Wanted to try the whole break up thing, I have a lot of different break up/makeup ideas in my head. maybe pt. 2???? Kinda feels good to stop here. But if you think so I have more ideas for this.

#steddie #stranger things #cw: discussion of addiction #they have so much trauma and I just gave them more #they still both love each other and will eventually get together after lots of work #addiction is hard and it takes a lot of work to get sober #so be kind #hurt comfort #ficlet #steve harrington #my writing #eddie munson and robin buckley friendship #robin buckley #platonic soulmates stobin #addiction #steddie prompt #ao3 #angst with a happy ending #happyish? #it's open ended really #but like it will be happy at some point #angst

[steddieas-shegoes]

crawling out

for @steddiemicrofic prompt ‘hole’

rated m | 404 words

cw: mention of addiction (nothing specific or detailed), mention of rehab, break-up | tags: rock star Eddie Munson, making amends, angst with a hopeful/happy ending, hurt/comfort, getting back together

- - - - - - - - - -

“Keep digging the hole for yourself. Eventually, no one will find you.”

Those were the last words Steve had said to him over a year ago.

They were in the middle of tour, their first headlining one, and Steve had been antsy. Eddie was picking fights with him for no god damn reason.

Steve got sick of it.

Steve left.

The band finished that tour, Eddie went on a bender and nearly died, and the band took a break.

- - -

Rehab sucked. Not because of the withdrawals; Those weren’t all that bad compared to some of the horror stories he’d heard. He was alone.

And being alone was what got him there in the first place.

Steve warned him he’d be alone the further into this hole he put himself and he was right.

- - -

But it’s been months since rehab, months since he felt the urge to bury himself in the hole he dug for himself, months since he started clawing his way out.

He’d spent the first month with Wayne, who welcomed him with open arms the way he always did.

The second month was spent traveling to see all the kids, apologize to them for everything.

All of them had quickly sided with Steve, rightfully so, and he’d barely heard from them after…well, after. They all accepted his apologies, wanted to start working towards friendship again.

Next was a trip back to California to visit the band, who all stuck around to help out in the studio and write songs for others while they figured out what they wanted to do. They all loved him, told him so in the way they looked proud to see him standing outside of the hole he dug.

Now, standing outside the apartment Steve shared with Robin, he had the strong urge to jump back into the hole.

“Just knock,” he said to himself.

He lifted his hand.

The door swung open.

Steve stood there, just as beautiful and perfect as the day he left Eddie, frowning.

He looked him up and down, took in how he’d changed, put on a little bit of weight, trimmed his hair to his shoulders, got a new tattoo.

The date Steve left.

Steve’s eyes locked on his.

“You still digging that hole?”

“No. Filling it in actually. My arms got tired.”

Steve bit his lip, the telltale sign he was hiding a laugh.

“Need help?”

Eddie smiled. “Couldn’t hurt, sweetheart.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddiemicrofic #steddiemicroficjanuary #rock star eddie munson #angst with a happy ending #hurt/comfort #cw: addiction #cw: rehab #neither of those things are discussed in detail but are mentioned #breakup #getting back together

[thecruellestmonth]

Do you guys really believe that killing is the singular bad thing that cops do?

Or even that killing is the most frequent bad thing that cops do?

Are you saying that if cops didn't kill, then they'd be the same as Batman? Because then you're suggesting that effectively Batman already is a cop, with the exception that he hasn't killed (just like the majority of U.S. cops, who have never once shot or killed anybody).

I'm a bit worried to see opinions suggesting that only killing is wrong—and that violence, stalking, and humiliation are okay. In real-life, police commit countless acts of those "little" abuses, terrorizing entire communities, before they murder anybody.

Invading people's privacy is wrong. Hurting people to the point of hospitalization is wrong. Forcibly drugging people is wrong. Putting people in cages is wrong. Torture and "enhanced interrogation" are wrong. Ambushing people in their homes and safe places is wrong. Keeping inexhaustible wealth is wrong.

Superhero comics are power fantasies. Not all fantasies need to reflect our ideology in reality. But once you apply your real-life values to fiction, once you decide that fiction showcases exemplary real-life ideology—then your praise for Batman's ideology does become a worrying reflection of your real-life understanding of social issues.

#copaganda #Bruce Wayne critical #GCPD #fandom discourse #Batman copaganda #police brutality cw #Almost sorry to drag serious discussion of copaganda into ridiculous superhero comics but I swear the other guys started it first... #To be clear I'm completely disinterested in condemning or interrogating Bruce over his personal choice not to kill. #But I am so fascinated in how he justifies his own use of violence and privilege!!! So very very fascinated!! #Once again: LESLIE THOMPKINS IS RIGHT. #Actually I'm not gonna tag this post as @nti Bruce W@yne--because really I enjoy canon Bruce a hell of a lot more than his stans do lol. #Sorry but Batman isn't a darling anti-cop revolutionary. If he were then he'd get in line behind Green Arrow and like the Invisibles. #I mean maybe The Audio Adventures version is anti cop but still in a free-market libertarian power fantasy kind of way if you can dig that. #violence mention cw #murder mention cw #fandom drama #This is why Cheer doesn't work because Red Hood realizes 'Oh I don't want kids to lose their parents like I lost mine-- #--therefore I won't murder anymore. It's time to put my faith in the system. 👼👼👼' #Jason sweetie... you lost your father firstly to criminalization and incarceration for property crime. #You lost your mother to poverty and addiction. You are actually not like Batdaddy and your trauma is not a mere echo of his trauma. #Batman discourse

[eumillipes]

The cheat smoking a huge cigarette and flipping you off

#homestar runner #the cheat #drugs cw #drew this after discussing his smoking addiction with pals

[cleradinel]

i finally had a proper one on one in like. a separate room for a few minutes and i got the biggest, most bear of bear hugs from david (i'm at this convention to celebrate my one year sober) and he kept telling me how proud of me he is and that i should be too (i am), making sure i'm looking him in the eyes both hands on my shoulders (he's been through it so i know he truly gets it), we talked about both his experience and mine this is going to be the one thing that makes me cry

#that hug felt meaningful #i don't discuss my mental health on here much but. i had to share #if not for anyone else but myself #anyway #i'm so glad i got to tell him and discuss so many things.... i feel so incredibly lucky #ali at the st con #cw addiction #tw addiction

[monstermoviedean]

i saw sam's demon blood addiction brought up as the standout example of the show's offensive mishandling of addiction and i'm not saying don't talk about it but. i think dean's increasingly severe alcoholism over 14 seasons is more upsetting. especially because alcoholism does exist in our world. especially because he never got to heal.

#cw alcohol #cw addiction #obviously people can engage or not engage with discussions of spn's portrayal of addiction #but it took me a couple days thinking about it and it still didn't sit right with me that the short-term fictional example was treated as #worse than the long-term real-world example #spn

[holdoncallfailed]

could you maybe explain why battery in your leg is abt graham? thank u!

ermmmm well. i'll put this under a read more actually so i don't look like a total freak lol

anyway looking at the lyrics

i think it's pretty clear that the song is about graham's impending departure from the band—ultimately it was damon (and dave and alex, ostensibly) who made the decision to basically fire graham but i don't think that damon was happy about having to do that. i think he very much wanted to make things work with graham in the band and tried for years to overlook/accommodate graham's alcohol abuse but it was too destructive to damon's work ethic which is/was ultimately the most important thing to him. so the second verse is alluding to the concessions that damon felt he made on graham's behalf throughout their whole relationship/career together. graham had been going to a recovery program (allegedly) when they first started recording think tank but apparently it wasn't working well enough for damon, who was not known for being particularly empathetic towards addicts (i think he was particularly frustrated because graham had previously very publicly tried to get sober in 1996-97 during the recording of their self-titled album and the subsequent press/tour but had obviously relapsed in the process of recording 13 in 1998). (maybe worth also noting that supposedly justine frischmann, damon's ex girlfriend, was a pretty heavy heroin user and that had contributed to their breakup in 1998 as well as the stalling of justine's own career with her band elastica. so it's possible that damon felt that he was losing his other best friend/creative collaborator/lover/whatever to addiction all over again pretty soon after he and justine had split.)

the first verse/"the ballad for the good times" is referring to their long history together, their childhood...the "put a rock beat over anything" i think is a reference to the difference between damon and graham's sound, and graham's preference for noisier american indie music which damon was initially really resistant to but ultimately moved towards with self-titled and 13. the "don't get het up on the evil things" is probably referring to graham's lifelong experience with depression/his sensitivity to criticism. "the dignity we had" well....idk about that one lol cos blur's image had been extremely uh messy for lack of a better word from the beginning of their career so i'm not sure 'dignified' was ever a word used to describe them. but i guess their low points had been pretty public and very undignified compared to the purposeful wackiness of their early performances, so...

BASICALLY "you can be with me if you want to be" is damon's plea for graham to get better for his own sake and for the sake of the band while simultaneously knowing that there was no way to force him to do so. it's a very sad and desperate song that i think is also simultaneously resigned to the knowledge that this wasn't actually going to work in the end, that graham was going to have to leave the band in order to recover and for blur to continue to function as a group and that damon had to be the one to make that call (but, interestingly, not the person to actually tell graham—their manager delivered that message lol yikes and then damon and graham didn’t talk to each other at all for like eight years). it's also the only song on that record that features graham's guitar playing.

the phrase 'battery in your leg' is weird and likely just one of damon's nonsense lyrics but it also calls to mind the spanish phrase ponte las pilas (literally 'put the batteries in') which is used to tell someone to keep going, look alive, get a move on, etc. i legitimately have no idea if damon had any familiarity with this phrase—i was surprised when i listened to the song for the first time cos i assumed that's what he was referencing cos it's such a specific turn of phrase but really who knows. if he was aware of the meaning then i think that would be another message to graham urging him to keep going/make it through this period of his life.

#cw for discussion of addiction/alcohol abuse ig #this is also so long. sorry #Anonymous #blur

[kalach-cha]

people who are supposed to be my friends stop triggering me challenge

#i mean this in the most serious sense of the word trigger. like they know i used to be addicted to nicotine and STILL smoke around me #they discuss EDs openly while knowing i come from a modelling family and have never been ok with my body! not even as a child! #it’s frustrating bc it feels like the only people who respected me and what i’ve been through are an ocean away #michi.txt #cw ed mention #cw addiction mention

[glitchdollmemoria]

addiction talk

ohhhhhkay i think i get why the caffeine (+ sugar?) jitters are Doing Something to my brain. ive been doing really well with cutting out weed for my mental health, i actually just hit a month sober from that, but i still get cravings for it sometimes. and it absolutely gave me the jitters, and so i think my brain is going "damn this is familiar and reminds me of recreational drugs can i have more of this" and im just looking at myself like. hey. what the fuck is your problem. i absolutely should not regularly be this intensely caffeinated because i already have heart issues but like.hm. huh. hm. im gonna have to force myself to use a smaller amount of this cold brew mix bc it must be way more caffeinated than most of the stuff i drink. but ALSOOOOO shit man the idea of being this awake at work... idk man!!!! idk. i should really research the negative effects of caffeine to discourage myself from going overboard because i KNOW my brain will latch onto any substance possible and understanding health risks is probably my best coping mechanism against that shit

#weed cw #addiction cw #minors dni #to be clear im not saying im suddenly a caffeine addict im just discussing past experiences n shit yknow #venting

[wireddless]

Addict

pairing: Coriolanus Snow/Reader

cw: 17+ hate. fucking. dubcon, possessive behavior, corio is emotionally abusive, vaguely implied Plinth reader, p in v, unprotected sex, nsfw below the cut,

word count: 2.3k

a/n: i just know hes so hung you guys i want him so bad

Living in the shadow of Lucy Gray was never an easy feat. That’s all she was after the erasure; a shadow, soon to be only a whisper on the sleeping breath of Coriolanus. The closest he could ever feel to real love was with the District 12 songbird, and had she been more than just a district animal, a member of the Capitol, there was no doubt in your mind he would have married her instead.

Your days at the academy, a few years his inferior, were spent in the naive mindset that he was fully capable of love. However, the only true love he would ever feel was towards the power in his cold-handed grasp. After your graduation, you continued living with your family, their prized figurehead of poise and beauty, until they managed to propose your hand to him, only a year or so before he became president.

Coriolanus, living on top of his family’s hidden debt and poverty, accepted nearly immediately, driven by the thought of the millions that came with your name. Your family, so charmed by the icy man, was manipulated into paying for the lavish ceremony. A Capitol wedding was a spectacle to behold, a sea of colored heads and garments, textiles in unique patterns decorating the spectators in a myriad of colors. An insipid eye-sore, in his opinion.

And there you were, the pale lavender of your dress cascading down your body like the drapes that covered a window in a lonely mansion, baby fat gone. The bright light in your eyes that has now long-since faded, the happy expression you held, truly believing the facade he had put on to convince your family that he was a perfect match, it all fueled a fire of satisfaction in his psyche. He remembered the young girl from their studious days, the sneaky glances shot his way from a face framed by baby fat, it was so easy to take advantage of a schoolgirl crush, to charm his way right into your heart. He’d never go hungry again, and he could finally focus solely on his rise to power.

Or so he thought. When you managed to pick his intentions apart and discovered the cunning and manipulative nature of the man, you became defiant, fucking petulant. Your once tender and loving gaze, seeking to nurture and care for him, hardened like the calcium deposits on the well pumps in the poorer districts of Panem. He heard in passing from the workers of the house about your violent fits of tears late at night. It wasn’t like he cared, hell, the idea of your reddened face damp with tears and snot amused him to no end. But fuck if it didn’t annoy him when Tigris became your closest friend and confidant.

Coriolanus kept you locked away in the golden cage of his home, not permitting the men of his staff to go near you, forcing you to discuss with him the simplest task of visiting your own family. You were still the key to his now inherited wealth, a prize that he had won with cunning and malicious tactics, and the thought of you straying into the arms of another man, who could take you, who could take even a bit of the control he held, it infuriated him to no end.

It took almost a year for you to realize that without your family, he was completely broke, and it took almost two to realize he never once held even a glimmer of fondness towards you, that he was using you. Tigris, who had spoken to you during her regular visits, had become the arms you fell into when the agony of your situation first befell you. Her hands wrapped around your body as she shushed and hummed quietly were a solace to you as the pain dawned on you. Three years after your marriage, you would speak in hushed tones over cooling tea, not bothering to hide your glare when Coriolanus bothered joining. He was no longer the subject matter of your conversations with Tigris, instead discussing gossip that had spread through the yammering mouths of Capitol citizens, and the newest trends to pass around them. She had become your dearest friend, one he couldn’t find a valid reason to hide you from. Though he never would admit while his heart was still beating, despite your shared animosity, you were still his favorite accessory.

The Reaping ceremonies for the next annual Hunger Games would begin soon, which became a sensitive topic between you and Coriolanus. It was no secret to you who Lucy Gray Baird had been, who she had been to him. What the hunger games meant to him. You resented her. Not for the place she held near his heart, but for managing to escape him before he had caged her.

The fire of your arguments was always sparked by her name, the tinder and fuel having already been prepared by the years of building resentment. Almost always in his office, your hands would shove him back as he rapidly approached you after you provoked him with harsh and unforgiving words, only fanning the flame of hatred he felt towards you. Then he would corner you, your back against the wall as one hand found your neck and the other found your hair, his fingernails digging at your scalp. His minty breath falling out of his mouth in heavy gasps as he fought the urge to kill you right there. You made him feel as though he was an animal from the districts, dirty and foaming at the mouth. And he hated that.

“You know I would never harm you.” He’d always reassure you when his grip on your throat finally loosened, his eyes taking in the way you would suck in air he had prevented from reaching your lungs. Coriolanus considered what little he allowed you, even the air you breathed, a favor. He thought himself generous, benevolent even. He wasn’t of course, and you were always quick to point that out.

Today's argument was only different in setting, within the walls of your shared bedroom rather than his office. You had shoved him, predictable, and turned to storm away, wanting to find a guest room to sleep in instead. But before you could reach the door, his hand had yanked you by your hair back towards him before nearly throwing you on the bed. When you sat up to scramble away, he shoved you back down by your shoulders and crawled on top of you, effectively pinning you to the mattress, an echo of your frequent taunts. It was rare that you two would actually be in such a position, as neither of you particularly craved intimacy with one-another, yet the way one hand slid up your negligee and gripped the curve of your thigh conveyed a much different message tonight.

“I just wish you’d shut up for once, you know that?” He growled. Coriolanus Snow was an aggressive lover. He put all his weight on his forearm strung across your chest to keep you pinned down as his fingers left their place on your thigh and slid up to the junction of your legs, cupping your heat rather aggressively before shoving them aside and sliding his fingers over your folds to find the sensitive and rather neglected bundle of nerves. You could hardly hide the shudder that overcame you as you responded.

“Fuck you!” You spat at him, writhing under his touch. Your head fell back on the luxurious sheets and you bit back a moan as he swirled his fingers in a circular motion over your clit, stirring the lust you had repressed to life. How he loved to see your eyes rolling back into your skull as you fought surrendering to his ministrations. The edges of his mouth lifted in a smug little smirk when your arousal became more evident, making your cunt slick and pliable.

Oh, how he adored to see his poor, neglected wife fall victim to her own human nature. It made him want to consume you whole, like you were a treat he got all to himself. Coriolanus’s mouth fell to your collarbone and his teeth scraped over the thin skin as he slipped his middle finger inside your sopping hole, earning an earnest mewl from your normally argumentative lips. He bit down rather hard at the junction of your neck and shoulder as he slowly, teasingly pumped his finger in and out. This would be easier than he thought.

He tilted his head back up to take in the sight of your demeanor flickering to something more vulnerable, before taking your mouth with his. He kissed you like you provided the air he needed to breathe, and you couldn’t help but reciprocate. You’d be a fool to say you didn’t still crave him after the years of strained marriage. His teeth clashed with yours as you both attempted to deepen the kiss. When he pushed another finger inside of you, hooking them and speeding up, your mouth fell open with a shaky moan, and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth.

When your mother described to you what sex was like, she explained it like an intimate dance, where two souls would merge with love and passion. But it was never like that between the two of you. It was always a battle, aggressive and antagonistic as one of you sought to take something from the other. For Coriolanus, it was a display of his authority and control. His fingers quickened in pace and your hips bucked up into his hand, searching for more friction that would aid in your release. And he was benevolent wasn’t he? Who would he be to deny such a rare and primal pleasure? His fingers continued their attack on the spongy roof of your walls, pushing you closer and closer until your hand tore at the skin of his back with the intensity of your orgasm. Still seeing stars, he pulled his lips from yours and hovered them over your ear, his cheek brushing against yours, damp with tears.

“See how easy everything can be when you just stop resisting me at every turn?” You opened your mouth to respond, to bite back when the arm that pinned you down quickly shifted so his hand could cup over your mouth. He loved shutting you up. His silent voice hissed in your ear with a lingering promise. “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.”

So focused on his words and hot breath on your ear, you almost didn’t notice when he pulled his fingers from inside you to tug down your panties, discarding them somewhere behind him before fumbling with the breeches he slept in, the cold air of the room hitting his stiff cock. He brought that same hand up before him, spitting in it and spreading the wetness of his saliva over his hardened length. Barely giving you a second to process all that was happening, he pressed himself inside of you, his eyes squeezing shut and his brow furrowing as your tight, wet heat engulfed him entirely.

Having not been intimate with him in so long, it was like he was splitting you open, and you cried out with pleasure into his hand, your own lashes pressing together as you took his total length. Coriolanus didn’t remain still for long, and his hips soon began setting a bruising pace, his balls slapping against your ass as he fought the urge to moan himself, not wanting to appear any less in control than he was. Your muffled gasps spurred him on, practically driving him mad as he pummeled into you. The volume difference when he removed his hand from your mouth and forearm from your chest was quite noticeable, and his fingers wove into your hair once more, holding your head back against the bed as he swallowed your moans with his mouth.

The stinging pain of your nails in the skin of his back when they flung around him was dulled by the sheer thrill he felt taking you like this. The hand that coaxed your orgasm out of you found its way to your thigh again, pushing it up over your torso to rest on your shoulder, allowing him to thrust deeper inside of you as his fingers dug into the hot and tender skin. You nearly screamed into his mouth from the change in sensation as his hips came flush with yours over and over again. For a brief moment, he pulled away from the kiss to bite and suck at the skin of your neck, letting you sing out unmuted by his hand, as he imagined his songbird would so many years ago.

Coriolanus hated you. He hated almost everything about you. He resented you the way you resented him, but he was still addicted to you. Addicted to the control you allowed him as he fucked you stupid, to the way your pitful moans were brought about by him, to the dumb fucking look on your face as your body managed to make his hips stutter and falter as he came inside you with a low moan. He didn’t care about pulling out. You were his wife, a state figurehead, it was part of the job description to give birth to his children. Maybe getting you pregnant would even do him the favor of shutting you up. He didn’t bother helping you clean up as you readjusted your nightgown, instead opting to wipe the sweat from his brow and tuck himself back in the satin pants he intended on sleeping in.

Coriolanus Snow was not capable of real love. All those close enough to him were well-aware of that fact, including you. But when he crawled into the bed and pulled you, still breathless and trembling, up next to him, when he tucked your head into his chest in a possessive manner, your hands pressed against his heated chest, when he fell asleep holding you like you’d run away too, you momentarily convinced yourself he might have been able to love.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #president snow #president snow x reader #president snow x you #snow x reader #snow x you #the hunger games #hunger games #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth x you #tom blyth just one chance please #hunger games x reader #the hunger games x reader

[konigsblog]

consensual somnophilia with depraved simon riley.

cw; somnophilia (consent discussed), dub-con. 18+

simon riley usually has self control. he's able to resist and hold himself back, but when it comes to you? god, you're irresistible, and he's an insatiable mess, admiring your features while you sleep peacefully.

you're so relaxed, at ease and completely unaware of his perverted gaze. his filthy hands wander, trying to pull himself away to no use. his calloused hand slides between your thighs, rubbing at your clothed cunt gently while he takes in your beauty. your body limp in his strong arms, continuously rubbing at your sensitive clit through the fabric, your facial expressions almost enough for him to come in his boxers.

instead of soiling his boxers with his hot cum, he instead slides your panties off of your figure, holding them against his face while he prods against your tight hole. so wet, glistening with slick, collecting your juices along the head of his hung dick. simon's hands drive underneath your t-shirt, toying with your hard nipples and burying his face in the crook of your neck. your smell, sweet, and your body compliant and reactive with his touch, your glossy and aroused pussy becoming wetter with each stroke and drag.

fuck, he can't hold himself back any longer. despite his gentle and slow thrusts, the way he sloppily rolls his broad hips against you, he feels himself inching closer to his desired release. the tip of simon's swollen cock begins to weep and ooze milky beads of his arousal, pushed into you while he huffs at your scent.

so addictive, aren't you, princess?

#orla speaks #simon riley #simon ghost riley #cod simon riley #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x reader #mw2 ghost #ghost cod #cod ghost #ghost call of duty #ghost imagine #ghost mwii

[imfinereallyy]

when you said I scared you, well I guess you scared me too

Steve looks over the pamphlet in his hands. The smooth surface shouldn’t feel so rough on his hands. He supposes that’s because of the scars and callouses over his fingers. Nothing is able to be soft for him anymore.

Steve moves his gaze from the pamphlet to the door, to the pamphlet and the door once again. It shouldn’t be so scary. It is a community center door, similar to the ones they have in Hawkins. It’s made of beat-up wood and foggy glass. Steve’s sure if—no when, he pushes the door open, it’ll squeak. Rusting hinges that need replacing long ago, reminding him of his worn-out limbs.

Steve knows he shouldn’t feel so achy at 25, but when facing his own mortality year after year for so long, he knows a few aches is probably the bottom of the barrel of problems he has.

Steve lets out a breath. Circles his thumb around the edge of the pages and gives himself a paper cut. He doesn’t flinch; he knows it will happen. He isn’t sure if he could look someone in the eye and tell them he didn’t do it on purpose. He probably would tell the truth instead; he has many vices, but lying isn’t one of them. The truth being he just wants a reminder that he is alive.

That this is real.

“Okay.” Steve breathes again. He can do this. He promised Robin he is going to try. Even after all this time, he can’t say no to her. Can’t break her heart. So even though they move to a new city, even though Steve has already been sober for two months, she thinks this will be good for him.

Narcotics Anonymous: 6pm-8pm, Tuesdays and Thursdays.

Fucking N.A. Steve thinks. He doesn’t want to do it. It is already hard enough trying to avoid all of the Upside Down stuff, a major contributor to his problem. But the other big part, the abuse part, the queer part, isn’t always safe to talk about. No matter how anonymous it says, it is. Steve isn’t stupid. Sure, there were other things he could talk about. His neglectful parents. His struggles with depression. The countless head injuries. How one of his best friends hasn’t spoken to him in over five years. How he is pretty sure he is dead. How the other friends of his he met when they were 13, and he is nearly 18.

All really good stuff to work out.

But Steve knows he won’t be able to move on unless he can talk about everything honestly. Well, everything that isn’t signed away in an NDA.

“Isn’t the point to be able to heal?” Steve tells Robin when they are unpacking boxes. “It’s either this or therapy dingus, and this is free,” Robin says while wrapping bubble wrap around his head.

She does the research, of course, because she’s Robin. She finds the one group in all of Chicago that is considered “friendly to all groups around.” She even admits to having Dustin help her, and Robin doesn’t ask anyone outside of Steve for help, let alone admit it. So Steve knows she is serious.

Steve groans loudly. His voice echoing throughout the hallway. Using the pamphlet as a barrier between the wood and his palm, Steve pushes through the door.

As usual, Steve underestimates himself, and the door slams against the wall, echoing throughout the room. Everyone in the room turns away from the podium to look behind their seats at Steve.

Steve glances at his watch. 6:04 pm. Shit. He supposes punctuality is supposed to help with recovery. “Sorry,” Steve says to the room with a grimace and a little finger wave.

“It’s okay.” The man at the podium states. He has salt-and-pepper hair and round-frame glasses. He isn’t particularly old, though. He’s handsome, and well-aged. Like a fine wine that Steve knows he can’t touch anymore. “You actually arrived a little early for a first-timer. Please have a seat; we just started.” The man laughs lightly, waving to the empty back row.

Steve rushes to his seat. Thankful that most people here have the humanity to face back to the front. He brings a little relief to Steve, knowing these people can sense when not to push.

Well most people.

See, while everyone else turns back around, one head stays perfectly on Steve. He can feel the eyes boring into him so furiously that Steve can’t help but turn in their direction.

Steve expects an older gentleman who is fed up with young people's disrespect of punctuality. Or a younger person, wanting to move addictions from drugs to sex. Which Steve isn’t looking for right now. He even thinks that maybe it’s a family member someone brought with them today who doesn’t understand the etiquette of N.A.

What Steve doesn’t expect is to turn and see the very best friend he hasn’t seen in five years. A man he thought to be dead. A man whose last words to Steve were that he rather would be.

Because there, staring at Steve with wide eye curiosity and sorrow is Eddie Munson.

And he is even more beautiful than the last time Steve saw him.

***

just an idea I had bouncing around….

part 2? Maybe if people are interested, cause I have so much I could write on this. Either way I think this interesting on its own. Also I’ve dealt with addiction close hand with loved ones, but I am not an addict myself so if I get anything wrong please feel free to correct me. I want to handle this with care.

The title is from “Joey” by concrete blonde. An amazing song, everyone should listen to.

#steddie #cw: discussion of addiction #cw: brief mention of self harm #it’s barely there but it should be said #this is sad but the good kind where it will have a happy ending #hurt/comfort #but right now it’s more like #hurt/no comfort #platonic stobin #cw: mentions of past domestic abuse #bisexual steve harrington #gay eddie munson #mentioned: #robin buckley #dustin henderson #stranger things #Steve Harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #ficlet #my writing

[bby-deerling]

one piece + random nsfw headcanons

a bunch of wild card nsfw headcanons i have about various one piece characters!

18+, nsfw, mdni

masterlist

ft. zoro, sanji, robin, nami, kid, law

cw: afab!reader, fem!reader (for zoro only, he calls you a gendered pet name), oral sex, piv sex, overstimulation, sex toys, dirty talk, bondage, threesomes, frobin mention, quickies, free use, bdsm dynamics, messy sex, fingers in mouth, wlw sex, strap ons, inappropriate use of devil fruit, rough sex, soft zoro

zoro

absolutely makes out with your pussy. he's sloppy with it, but each swipe of his tongue—whether it's across your clit or inside of you—is passionate, driven by instinct, and fine-tuned to make you fall apart. he won't stop until you're a drooling mess for him, overstimulated, dripping, and beyond ready for his cock.

loves to dirty talk when he's in the mood for it, but keeps it to short, teasing statements; he's addicted to the way your walls flutter around him when he mumbles something filthy in your ear, or calls you a pretty girl. he's not much of a moaner, but will sigh, grunt, and occasionally growl.

prefers slow, passionate, intimate sex, but on occasion he'll tie your wrists together with his bandana, or use it as a blindfold and be a bit rougher with you. using something so deeply intertwined with who he is to restrain or tease you stirs something inside of him; you're completely his, and that turns him on so much that he loses all composure and restraint.

sanji

though he lives to please, he has some secret interest towards occasionally being a bit more dominant with you in bed. he feels incredibly ashamed every time he jerks off thinking about it, and will be distracted and distraught the rest of the day.

if you bring up to him that you want him to take on more of a lead during sex, he jumps at the opportunity (he wants to please you, after all), but deep down, he is extremely anxious, and worried about pushing things too far. he goes a bit overboard discussing boundaries in great detail beforehand to make sure he knows exactly what is on the table for you.

once you get into it, it's like a switch is flipped in his mind, and it's honestly thrilling to see such a different side of sanji. as he bends you over, ties your wrists together with his tie, and growls hushed commands into your ear, you feel so special that he's temporarily letting go of his chivalrous mindset to please you, and he's over the moon that you are placing so much trust in him.

robin

this is by no means an unpopular opinion, but robin is the best soft dom out there. she loves to overstimulate you with an unfathomable amount of hands roaming and caressing each inch of your body, but is careful to keep you on edge until you make her cum with your mouth; after all, you have to be good for her before you get your reward! ;)

if you're down for it, would be open to sharing you with franky, as long as she's calling the shots. she's in charge of everything both you and franky experience, and is a bit greedy as she keeps a monopoly on your sweet mouth.

aftercare with robin goes the whole nine yards—bubble baths, massages, soothing sweet nothings—the problem is it's hard for her to keep her touches chaste, and it often devolves into a steamy make out session, followed by more romantic, intimate sex.

nami

whether she is more active or passive in bed depends on her mood. she's more than willing to take charge and tease you into oblivion, but more often than not she's really overworked and needs to be taken care of and doted on.

tastes so unfathomably good—tangy with a hint of acidity from all of the citrus she eats. it's so easy to get pussy drunk with how good her nectar tastes (don't worry, she always returns the favor!) she is not the biggest fan of penetration, but loves to give you the strap, and makes you suck it clean afterwards!

she loves to 69 with you; with your pussy in her face while she overstimulates you, she loses track of time, lets her stress and worries melt away, and indulges herself in everything you have to give her. afterwards, she'll giggle, whisper a thank you to you, and snuggle up for a relaxing nap with you, ignoring the dripping wetness between both of your thighs.

kid

he is a freak in bed and into nearly any and everything under the sun. wanna roleplay? he loves it. want a threesome? he's already calling killer into the room. is especially interested in toys, and makes his own—vibrators, dildos, fuck machines, saddles—you name it, he's making it for you and testing it on you thoroughly.

he can start off slow and teasing on occasion, but sex with him always ends up rough, passionate, and full of the filthiest dirty talk that you can imagine. quickies are a normal part of the day, since his appetite for you is nearly insatiable; bring up free use to him and he's over the moon at the prospect of pushing you up against the wall, and splitting you in two with his fat cock anywhere, any time.

loves seeing his lipstick smeared across your face, breasts, and hips. bonus points if you copy his look, and your preferred shade ends up in a ring around the base of his cock. he's possessive (with anyone besides killer), and loves to leave marks all over your body so everyone knows exactly who fucked you so hard that you're stumbling all over the deck.

law

he is so mid at eating pussy but thinks he is great at it—i just know this deep in my bones; luckily his fingers can compensate for where he's lacking, and get you there every time. the tattoos on his digits aren't just appealing to you; he loves the way his inked fingers look coated with your essence, and loves making you taste yourself and lick them clean even more.

the stroke game is both godly and brutal; law falls hard and fucks hard. his mean, unrelenting pace is juxtaposed by semi-sweet touches as he holds you close. the difference in sensations is dizzying and overwhelming, a physical manifestation of the conflict of him wanting to both cherish and take you simultaneously.

he loves receiving head; seeing you on your knees for him choking on his cock makes him crave you so, so deeply. he has a deep seated need to maintain control, and he's addicted to the way you're just so obedient for him as your tongue swirls around his shaft.

#one piece x reader #zoro x reader #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #nami x reader #robin x reader #eustass kid x reader #eustass kidd x reader #one piece headcanons #one piece smut #trafalgar law smut #zoro smut #sanji smut #one piece scenario #mdni #x reader #trafalgar law #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #nami #nico robin x reader

[petrichorvoices]

ok like related to my tags on that last reblog. again maybe this is too radical but..... maybe we don’t need to ever fix or cure our alcoholism. maybe making some poor decisions as a 15 year old doesn’t mean we never get to drink again; maybe we shouldn’t even call that a poor decision, actually. hear me out

we first started drinking to cope with quickly deteriorating mental and physical pain and trauma that nobody was taking seriously. we were at our wit’s end, we didn’t know what to do, we wanted to die. we realized that alcohol not only dulled the physical pain, but being tipsy or drunk was a lot more comfortable and less scary than heavily dissociating, and the former would tend to somehow prevent the latter

i think we would have physically hurt ourself more if we hadn’t been drinking so much. i think the only reason we made it to 18 was because we became an alcoholic

like, yeah. our addiction isn’t something that we encourage, nor is it something that we necessarily like. but that doesn’t mean that every aspect of it is bad, or that we have to despise it and everything connected to it. maybe we can just.. be an alcoholic. learn how to cope better, sure, and how to manage our alcohol in a way that prevents anyone from getting hurt, but maybe our worth and value doesn’t need to be based on that “recovering” before the word addict. maybe we don’t need to identify as a recovering alcoholic at all, even if we are working on it

there’s a lot we’ll have to work through, but we’d like to start seeing ourself as a person even when we are drunk out of our mind and struggling to walk and in no state to do anything. even in that state, we deserve love, and respect, and care, and i’m going to start saying it until not only do we believe it but everyone else around us does too

#our posts #about us #alcohol cw #but won't tag for addiction itself i think #addiction tag #suicide mention #Cecil's tag #discussion

[pix3lplays]

istg im craving for aventurine content i love him sm 😭

I saved this for after the update when they’d ACTUALLY give us Aventurine content and WOW did they deliver um so have some THOUGHTS-

SPOILER WARNING FOR AVENTURINE LORE!

Cw! Toxic Aventurine, discussion of Aventurine getting humiliated based on a scene in the game, kindaaa suggestive? Mentions of Aventurine being treated like an object, he takes advantage of your kindness, sharing a bed, Arguments where both sides say some things, angsty, discussion of having kids but he’s just lying (for now🤨)

-Aventurine x reader, after update thoughts-

So yeah from all the stuff we’ve seen from him I can still see him being a pretty bad partner…

He hides his true feelings for you most of the time because it’s how he protects himself from getting hurt. Probably doesn’t even want to commit to you at all so much as use you for a little while, just as his company and companion, he’ll entertain you for a bit until he starts getting attached.

He can’t afford to get attached to you. Well. More like he doesn’t WANT to get attached to you, but if he does decide he wants to keep you around a little longer he will put a bit of effort into it.

By that I mean buying you whatever you want, maybe even getting you a ring so you’ll stick with him for a while. Definitely a man who believes in buying love.

Despite his high emotional walls that he pretends doesn’t exist, there are a few ways to really get this man to melt for you.

For example if you genuinely think his eyes are pretty? If you don’t say things about his eyes just in an attempt to get under his skin? And that whole scene where Sparkle implied that Aventurine strips naked and gets on his knees to get his way?

Yeah honestly genuinely showing him respect will really leave an impact on him. He’s used to being treated as an object. So when you ask HIM what HE wants…it genuinely takes him by surprise. He literally doesn’t get it. You should be telling him what you want so he can get or do it for you. No one’s ever asked what HE wanted before.

Suddenly he’s REAL interested in keeping you close. I mean…you’re fascinating. You just…do nice things for him without expecting anything in return? Surely you’re too good to be true, but he’s not gonna let you go that easily now…

Does he take advantage of your kindness? A little bit…really not on purpose most of the time though. He’s just not used to it, and he has to admit he is curious to see how much he can get out of you. But I think he’ll realize that he’s taking advantage, and if he really does like you, he’ll try to tone it down.

He’s not a man who throws out Genuine ‘I love you’s often. Of course if you say it to him he’ll say it back, but that doesn’t make it genuine at all. He REALLY has to like you before he’d Actually genuinely tells you he loves you, and you can Tell that it’s different this time when he says it while he’s holding you in bed, thinking you’re asleep.

Something he has a problem with is when you try to express your concern over his bad habits…specifically the gambling problem. He doesn’t think it’s a problem at all, given his whole ‘I only bet if I know I’ll win’ attitude but gambling is STILL gambling and you don’t like seeing him like that, just so Addicted he can’t pull himself away from the tables at the casino, or so hooked that he stays up at night in bed gambling on his phone.

He insists it’s not a problem, that he’s NOT addicted, that he can quit if he wants to…he doesn’t Like arguing with you about it…but he will.

Yeah good luck getting him to give up on the gambling…it’s his first love, really. This man might even leave you over it if you push him enough about it.

Arguments can get REALLY bad-

It’s hard to visibly shake him when other people comment negatively on his Sigonian blood…but if you get angry enough at him, say something about his past, whether it’s something about the serial number or his eyes…yeah he takes that personally, because it’s you. He thought he could trust you and now you’re looking at him like everyone else does.

He’ll say some really hurtful things to you in turn, and you can bet he won’t be apologizing first.

He’s probably sleeping on the couch that night, if he stays in the home at all. He might just…leave and spend the night at a hotel instead. He wants YOU to be the one to beg him to come back and forgive you.

He might eventually slink back home on his own, either pretending nothing is wrong, or giving you the cold shoulder.

Of course you feel terrible about it. You didn’t mean to hurt him, of course not…but he also said some really terrible things to you in turn so…you’re hesitant to just plead with him to forgive you.

I’m sure he’ll eventually get tired of being angry with you though, especially when he starts wanting something from you or if he doesn’t want to go to the casino alone.

Once he’s cooled off enough then yeah he’ll let you make it up to him with a make-up hug and kiss.

Also this man is Very into PDA. Can’t keep his hands OFF of you when you’re in public. He’s either holding your hand, or his hand is on the small of your back, or he’s got an arm draped over your shoulder…seriously he does NOT leave any room for doubt that you’re with him.

He’s got No problem putting his lips on you in a public setting. Whether it’s on the back of your neck, or the knuckles on your hand, or your cheek, or your lips.

He doesn’t even Care about his reputation when you’re involved, haha…

Also this man definitely bites you playfully, haha…you’re expecting a kiss and suddenly there are TEETH INVOLVED! AVENTURINE!!? >:(

Aventurine who has you light his cigarette.

Also his HANDS are so attractive?? He’ll perform all sorts of little card and coin tricks for you, just so you can look at his attractive hands…

And when he does take off his gloves for you?? Yeah the man takes good care of his hands, partly because his darling partner adores them. I bet you could convince him to let you paint his nails, as long as you do a good job…

He thinks it’s VERY cute when you wear his clothes, whether it’s something little like wearing his sunglasses or his hat…or straight up wearing one of his shirts or his jacket or something. He’s pretty average sized himself haha so you’ll probably fit pretty well into his clothes…you guys can share outfits, though I do think it’d be hard to convince him to wear something of yours unless it was stupidly expensive.

Absolutely a man who buys you clothes with the intent of stealing them later for himself-

You’ll be looking in your closet for something only to be all: “Aventurine! Have you seen my-” only to turn around and see him wearing it….sigh…

Oh my gosh now I’m having thoughts about Aventurine meeting your parents…there are Mixed feelings. Yeah. He wants to keep you so he’s not above just straight up lying to them to make himself look better. Very vague or just…lies about his job. Definitely doesn’t mention the gambling addiction. Oh, they want grandkids? Sure he’ll Happily tell them that he can’t WAIT to have a kid with you-

Meanwhile you’re listening to him talk about that sort of stuff like ???? The way your man lies SO easily to your parents should really make you a little bit concerned-

So overall he makes a decent impression but they don’t like the way he dresses himself…but yeah his scheme to get your parents to like him works well enough!

To be honest if Aventurine really does want to have you he’ll marry you regardless of whether or not he gets your parents’ blessing, but if it really matters to you then FINE he’ll try.

Alright that’s what I’ve got so far haha~

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #Aventurine #Aventurine x reader #Hsr Aventurine x reader #honkai star rail Aventurine x reader

[sidekick-hero]

Carry you

(steddie | rated t | wc: 4k | cw: drug addiction, hurt Eddie Munson, post break-up, hopeful ending | @steddielovemonth | prompt by @starryeyedjanai "Love is letting someone take care of you" | AO3)

When Eddie opens his eyes, he has no idea where he is.

That should probably scare him, but the only thing he can think in that moment between blissful nothingness and cold, hard reality is "the bathroom at the party looked different." Because he is in a bathroom, that much he can say. There are white tiles everywhere and a roll of toilet paper in front of him and... is that a plastic handrail?

Lifting his head is a Herculean effort, but somehow he manages to do it, even though it makes his stomach turn.

In front of him is a freestanding shower and a bathtub with stairs to get into. The bathroom is huge and sterile, smelling of disinfectant.

As more and more of his senses come back online, Eddie notices several things at once:

#1 He's wearing what can barely be called a gown, cold air hitting his exposed skin everywhere. His back, his legs, hell, even his junk gets more of a breeze than he likes.

#2 He's nauseous, his stomach rolls uncomfortably, and his head is killing him, a sharp pain that's increasing in intensity by the second.

#3 He knows that something is definitely very, very wrong and he can feel the anxiety rising like bile in his throat.

It's that last realization that triggers his fight or flight response and in seconds he's off the toilet he's sitting on, the sudden movement sending him stumbling, his legs wobbling and his head spinning. Everything hurts and he feels so weak. He catches himself on the railing next to the toilet and figures that's what it's there for. Although he has no idea what kind of person would have such a strange bathroom. The last one he was in, at Tim's or Tom's or Terry's party, something with a T, for sure, the tiles had been black and there had been a lot of bamboo furniture and gold accents. It had smelled nice too, vanilla and cinnamon.

He staggers to a door that hopefully leads out of this fucking nightmare. Maybe Gareth or Freak are behind this, to teach Eddie a lesson for ditching them again to go partying when they had to pack up their shit after the show. But not Jeff, he's too nice to do something like that. The next morning, when Eddie arrives with a hangover the size of his ego, to quote Gareth, Jeff will only look at him with disappointment.

Or maybe they just don't care enough about him anymore to pull a prank on him. Eddie can't remember the last time they even talked to him, beyond discussing the bare minimum for their shows.

Leaving the bathroom, he carefully walks down a long hallway with the ugliest yellow linoleum Eddie has ever seen. It hurts his eyes and his stomach gives another unpleasant churning. On his right, he sees a glass door with "Intermediate Care Unit" written in big white letters.

What the fuck?

He turns right and continues down the hall, hoping to find someone who can tell him where he is and why his body feels like it's been hit with a sledgehammer. Repeatedly.

"Mr. Munson, you shouldn't be out of bed," a stern voice calls from behind him, and when he turns around he sees a middle-aged woman in white scrubs looking at him with a stern expression on her face.

Feeling more and more like he has landed in an episode of The Twilight Zone, Eddie looks at her with an incredulous look on his face. "Who are you? And where is everyone?"

She scoffs at his answer, clearly not pleased.

"I am the nurse responsible for getting you well enough to leave this ward as soon as possible, and you would make my job a lot easier if you would go back to your bed." Before he can process the meaning of her words, she continues. "As for everyone else, well, no one else overdosed, so I would assume they're all home by now."

Eddie can only stare at her open-mouthed, disbelief and horror probably written all over his face, because her own face is softening slightly.

"Now come on, let's get you back to bed, you really shouldn't be wandering around."

She gently takes his elbow and leads him to a door with the number 719 on it. As she opens it for him, Eddie sees three beds inside. To the left and right, he sees two old men, both looking directly at him. The one on the right says, "We tried to stop him, Nurse Elli, we really did," in a high, nasal voice that is already getting on Eddie's nerves. "The kid wouldn't listen to us, would he, Harry?"

"Exactly," Harry answered, at least in a deeper, more bearable tone.

Ignoring the geriatric Ernie and Bert, Nurse Elli leads him to the bed in the middle and helps him to lie down again. Only then does Eddie remember that all he's wearing is a thin hospital gown with an open back. Well, he thinks, Nurse Elli has seen worse in her profession than his pale, scrawny ass. Besides, it's not like much of his modesty has survived the last two years of sex, drugs and rock'n'roll that have been his life.

By the time he's back under the covers, his nurse has turned around and is walking back over to the door. A bone-deep exhaustion has begun to seep into his body, slowly dragging him back under, but seeing her walk out of the room gives him a burst of energy.

"Wait! Someone needs to tell me what happened. What am I doing here?"

Embarrassment burns hot under his skin as he hears the tears in his voice, but the sound of it breaking at his question makes Nurse Elli stop. She turns back to him and her eyes are much kinder than before.

"The doctor will be with you shortly. He'll explain everything to you, Mr. Munson. I'll let him know you're awake now."

And then she leaves, and Eddie sinks back into his bed in the hope that the next time he opens his eyes, it will all have been just a bad dream.

It was not all just a bad dream.

The next time Eddie comes to, he's alone in his room, except for a middle-aged man who seems to be the doctor Nurse Elli told him would be stopping by.

Doctor Owens explains that he overdosed on alcohol and coke at a party at some music producer's house and had been in a coma for two full days. They quickly stabilized him, pumped his stomach and gave him fluids through an IV. Eddie is lucky he's still young and his system recovered from the shock quite well. When he showed signs of waking up, they brought him down here from the ICU to free up his bed for someone who needed it more.

"If Mr. Harrington hadn't called 911 and told them to come get you, you'd be dead right now, Mr. Munson. I'm sorry to say this, but from what I've heard, no one at the party even cared, just insisted that you brought your own drugs and they had nothing to do with it. Mr. Harrington has also been your only visitor so far."

His words should make him angry or sad, something, but he can't process them. Not when his brain is still struggling to make sense of the first part of his statement, Eddie’s heart racing in his chest.

"Mr. Harrington? As in..."

"Steve Harrington, he says he's a close friend. He's the one who called the ambulance, gave the operator your cell phone number so they could track your phone and get you to the hospital. He's been visiting you every day since. He also called your uncle, because we are not allowed to give out any medical information to anyone outside of the family. Your uncle should be here soon, I called him yesterday to give him an update on your condition."

His mind is reeling, too many thoughts fighting for dominance and one word screaming louder than any of them in his head.

Steve, Steve, Steve.

How... it couldn't be. Not after their last fight. Not after the things he said to Steve. To his horror, he feels tears burning hot in his eyes at the memory. A memory he had pushed as far back in his mind as he could because every time he thought about that night he wanted to curl up into a fetal position and cry.

"You are a lucky man, Mr. Munson. This man seems to care a lot about you, as does your uncle. You should let them help you. And if you will allow me to be very clear with you: You need all the help you can get. You're young, so your body can take a lot. But it's not in good shape. You have an old man's liver, and your spleen and kidneys are showing signs of the abuse you put them through. The echo also showed some irregularities in your heartbeat. If you continue down the path you're on, your organs will fail and you will die, Mr. Munson. Painfully. So my advice to you is to get clean as soon as possible. We have some facilities we work with, a nurse will bring you some brochures."

Eddie could only nod numbly, tears now falling freely from his eyes, his throat tight and his head aching. Everything hurt. Especially his heart.

"Okay, we'll keep you here for two more days until we're sure you're stable enough to be on your own." Doctor Owens tells him, turning to leave and get on with his day, as if he hadn't just dropped a damn bomb on his head. He pauses at the door and turns back to him.

"And a word of advice from someone twice your age who's seen a lot in his time here: stick with people who really care about you, like Mr. Harrington, instead of spending your time with people who leave you lying in a bathroom in your own vomit."

With that, he steps out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him and leaving Eddie alone with his thoughts.

Eddie doesn't know how long it's been since Dr. Owens left. It could have been hours, days, weeks, for all he knows, too deep inside his own head to spare any thought for the passing of time. Lying in a hospital bed, the nausea and pain raging through his battered body, Eddie finally breaks down and lets the thoughts come.

He's lost in his memories, thinking about everything that led him here, alone and in pain in a hospital bed, after nearly killing himself with things he swore he'd never use. Weed was fine, though he didn't indulge much anyway, preferring to sell it and make some much-needed money than to smoke it himself. But coke? Nah, he knew how epically stupid it would be to even try that shit.

And yet he did.

A party to celebrate the release of their first single. One lapse in judgment while flying so fucking high that nothing could touch him. One bad decision was all it took for him to succumb to the effects of the white powder.

The high he felt after snorting his first line had been magical and he's been chasing that feeling ever since, blind to all he's sacrificed in the process.

It changed him, he knows. Every euphoric high that made him talk a mile a minute, overly affectionate, loud and brash and in love with the whole world would inevitably end in a crash. He became irritable and hostile toward the people he loved, thinking they were out to get him. Whenever his friends or Wayne or Steve so much as looked at him the wrong way about his new habit, he would lash out at them.

He became increasingly angry and accused them of trying to control him, of envying him his success and happiness.

That's when he started drinking, too. He drank himself stupid so that he wouldn't have to think about the way Steve was starting to look at him as if he didn't even know him anymore. To forget the sad look in Wayne's eyes or the way his friends had started to avoid him. When he was drunk out of his mind, he could forget the way the Coffin boys had started talking about him behind his back, could ignore the murderous looks Robin kept sending his way.

Thinking back, Eddie felt like everything had spun out of his control so fast.

It's like one day he comes home to Steve, ecstatic about signing their first record deal and celebrating the start of a new chapter with the love of his life by dancing around their living room barefoot, laughing and kissing each other, promising happiness and forever.

Only to throw that love right back in Steve's face the next day by calling him needy, clingy, and full of bullshit.

He claimed that Steve was holding him back and that Steve didn't love him, that he just didn't want to be alone. He also said that Steve still thought he was better than Eddie, better than the town freak, the fuck-up, the trailer trash.

You don't want me to succeed and finally step out of your perfect shadow, because then what would stop me from leaving you, right?

Eddie regretted his words as soon as they left his mouth. Secretly, he had always feared that his success would cause a rift in his relationship with Steve. Eddie had no desire to leave Steve, because Steve was still the best goddamn thing that ever happened to him, but he couldn't help but feel that he was losing him anyway. Even more so when he had seen Steve's face crumble, when he had seen the exact moment when his heart had broken into a million pieces.

He had wanted to take Steve in his arms and apologize for saying cruel things he didn't even believe. It had been his own insecurities that had caused him to lash out, and he had hurt Steve before he had a chance to be hurt himself.

Instead, in true Munson fashion, he had run away and hasn't seen or heard from Steve in six long months that have felt like years.

Steve looks almost exactly the same as he did the last time Eddie saw him.

That's not a good thing, though. Because Steve had been driving himself crazy with worry about Eddie for months before Eddie had taken Steve's heart and torn it apart right in front of him.

Back then he had the same dark circles under his eyes that he has now. The usually golden skin is still too pale and Steve's trademark hair looks even more disheveled from how often he's run his hands through it. His well-fitting jeans, which once hugged his ass just right, now sit baggy on his too-slim frame and Eddie hates it.

He hates that Eddie could still hurt Steve even after he left. That even from a distance he managed to ruin the only person who ever really loved him besides Wayne. There should be some kind of warning sign on him: Beware, do not get attached, will hurt you.

"You're awake," are the first words out of Steve's mouth, and despite everything, Eddie can't stop his heart from responding to the sound of his sweet voice. Steve sounds tired, weary, but to Eddie's ears his voice is better than any Metallica song could ever be.

He tries to smile at him, but he feels as tired as Steve sounds, so it lacks the usual spark.

"Sure am. From what I heard, I have you to thank for that," Eddie adds, unable to help himself. He still doesn't know why and especially how Steve knew he needed help. If this were a Nicholas Sparks novel, their love would have created an invisible bond that made Steve feel when Eddie needed help.

But this is real life, and no matter how much he loves Steve, there is no invisible bond holding them together. Just an unbridgeable chasm.

Steve is still hovering at the door and Eddie thinks he is fighting the urge to wring his hands. Eddie knows his tells by now and he figures Steve isn't sure he's welcome here. Which is ridiculous, because even at his worst, Eddie will always want Steve around, no matter what crap Eddie tells him.

It takes a lot of effort, but Eddie manages to sit up and lean out of bed to pat the chair next to his bed, his eyes never leaving Steve.

Eddie sees Steve's shoulders slump, some of the tension visibly draining from his body at the gesture, and Steve walks over to him and sits down tentatively.

"So..." Eddie begins, dragging out the 'o'. "What happened?"

Steve looks up from his hands in his lap, obviously surprised by the question. "You don't remember?"

"No. The last thing I remember is sitting on a leather couch with a bunch of people I don't know and don't care about, fooling myself into thinking I was having fun." Eddie has had plenty of time to think about his life and where he went wrong, so he decides to stick with honesty. Steve deserves as much and more. "Someone handed me a bottle of whiskey and I opened it and started drinking straight from the bottle. That's the last thing I remember. The next thing I know, I wake up in an ugly bathroom that smells like disinfectant, my whole body hurts like I've been hit by a train, and I have no idea where I am."

Before he can bring himself to say the next part, it's Eddie who has to look away, his eyes focused on his hands playing with the edge of the blanket.

"They told me it was you who called 911 and helped them find me. They said without you I would have died lying in my own vomit." He swallows audibly, tears burning in his eyes, wondering how he could have cried more in the last ten hours than in the last ten years. "They also said you were the only one who came to see me."

Eddie forces himself to look up and into Steve's eyes as he says, "Thank you, Steve. You didn't... I don't deserve you doing this. Not after..." The words die in his throat and he feels like he's choking on them.

He can't do this. He's a fucking coward, not worth saving. Not even worth looking at someone as good and beautiful as Steve.

There's a crease between Steve's eyebrows that Eddie used to smooth with his thumb and lips every time he saw it, and his fingers itch to do it again.

"You called me," Steve tells him, his own hands playing with the edge of Eddie's blanket. "At the party. You called me from the bathroom. I thought it was a butt call or maybe drunk dialing, I hadn't heard from you in months, Eddie."

Eddie winces at his words, but Steve chooses to ignore it.

"But then you sounded so small on the phone. You called me 'Stevie' and 'sweetheart' and then you started to cry." Steve looks like he's about to cry, too. His eyes are glassy and Eddie gets lost in the way the light breaks in them, gold and brown and green all mixed together.

"You told me you weren't feeling so good, that your stomach hurt and the room was spinning so you had to lie down. Your voice -" And here Steve's own voice breaks, after it had already started to shake badly, and without thinking Eddie grabs Steve's hand and holds it tight.

"I'm here, Stevie. You saved me. I'm okay."

"But you almost weren't!" Steve insists, his voice rising, and Eddie finally understands the depth of Steve's feelings. After all these months, after everything Eddie had said and done, Steve still cared deeply for him.

"You talked like you were dying, Eddie. You weren't drunk dialing, you were calling to say goodbye, asshole. You were telling me all these things that I needed to hear you say for months. But I wanted to hear them with you in the room so I could punch you in the face and then kiss it better. Not like this. Not as your last words over a fucking phone call."

That's when Steve breaks down, the tears finally overflowing and he buries his face on the bed at Eddie's hip, their joined hands pressed against his wet cheek.

"Baby," Eddie whispers, shocked, his own heart aching worse than ever as he begins to run his fingers through Steve's messy hair. "Shhh, it's okay. I'm so, so sorry, Stevie. I never meant to hurt you, but it seems like that's all I did."

Taking a deep breath, Eddie continues. "I don't know what I told you on the phone, but since I woke up I've had time to think about it all. I don't know if I can ever make it up to you. Or to Wayne and the kids, Gareth and Jeff and Grant. If I will ever deserve your forgiveness, but I want to try. I want to deserve it one day. I know I have no right to ask anything of you, but... I will go to rehab. I will quit drugs and alcohol, I will clean up my act. And then, if you let me, I will try to make it up to you every single day for the rest of our lives."

Steve slowly lifts his head from the bed and looks at him, searching Eddie's eyes for something.

"Why?" Steve asks, his hand gripping Eddie's even tighter.

There are so many reasons, so many things Eddie wants to say, but in the end there is only one simple answer.

"Because I love you."

The smile on Steve's face tells him it's the right answer, even more so when Steve presses a kiss into his palm. But then he turns serious once more.

"I haven't forgiven you yet, Eddie. You hurt me too much and I need time. But I need you to stop trying to run away from me. I don't want you to go to rehab and clean yourself up before you come back to me. I want to be with you every step of the way. Do it together. Because if you love me, you have to let me take care of you. You have to let me in, Eddie. Let me carry you for once, like Sam carried Frodo when he couldn't go on. Trust me not to let you fall. Please."

"Did you really just make a reference to Lord of the Rings?" Eddie demands and Steve rolls his eyes.

"Is that what you get from everything I just said?"

Eddie sobers up immediately. "No, it just made me fall a little bit more in love with you, and I didn't think that was possible."

"So what do you say?" Steve asks, chewing his lip between his teeth, and Eddie suspects he's not even breathing.

"It's going to suck, Stevie," Eddie says in a quiet voice, stroking Steve's knuckles with his thumb."Are you sure?"

"Yes." No hesitation, no wavering in his voice. It's the same tone, the same determined look on his face as when he told Eddie "Fuck'em," when Eddie told him people in their small-minded town would talk if Steve held his hand in public.

"There's a bunch of brochures of places to check out. Wanna help me pick the least horrible one?" Eddie says, pointing to the table in the corner of the room.

Without another word, Steve gets up to grab them, and for the first time in a long time, Eddie allows himself to hope.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie fic #rockstar eddie munson #cw drugs #steddielovemonth #day 1 #love is letting someone take care of you #my writing