#tattooist eddie munson

[steddilly]

Steddie AU where Eddie runs a tattoo parlour and Steve owns a bakery across the street. Half of Eddie’s clientele are tourists on vacation or people passing by, and they always ask the same question. “You’re Eddie Munson, right? What’s the deal with Munson’s Bakery over there?” To which Eddie has the immense pleasure of responding, “That’s my husband’s place. He’ll give you a discount if you show him your fresh ink.”

They live above the bakery with their two cats, Garfield and Farrah. They always have a spare room in case the party or one of their friends needs to crash with them. Their lives are never dull 🥰

[wheneverfeasible]

🧠🪱Wriggly Wednesday🪱🧠

Thank you for the tags my lovelies! @queenie-ofthe-void @steviewashere

So we all know the florist/tattooist trope, yeah? Steve is the pretty little florist and Eddie is the tough looking tattoo artist, maybe their shops are even next door to each other, or at least nearby. It’s a great trope.

Except…

Eddie is the florist and Steve is the tattoo artist.

A bit of modern AU here too maybe but…Eddie got in trouble as a kid selling stuff , okay? He ended up in juvie for a bit, and he was terrified that this was it and his uncle would finally declare him a lost cause just like his father, but…he doesn��t. He encourages Eddie, knows his nephew could be better than any other Munson, and it helps. Eddie wants to be better.

He handles juvie well, gives up dealing, and serves community service helping out at the local garden (it wasn’t his initial choice, but he takes to it almost immediately). After everything is all said and done, community service over and he’s fully free once more, he still volunteers at the gardens.

Eddie, he discovers, likes flowers. He likes discovering the meaning behind them, the totally rad Latin names of them, and he likes growing something from nothing and watching them bloom. Eventually, when he’s older, he opens his own little shop.

He doesn’t look like your typical florist, all dark colored clothes and long hair and tattoos and piercings, but he’s knowledgeable in what he does and his flowers always look so pretty and nice and he’s happy.

Steve was a pampered rich kid, until he wasn’t. He did sports, and he liked them, but not enough to make a career out of it. He never felt that pull towards anything. He did like babysitting well enough, even if the kids were more like friends than clients, but it wasn’t something he wanted to do forever either.

Will, one of the kids he babysat, was an artist. He sketched and painted and even took up a bit of pottery for a while, though that phase passed quickly. But Steve was intrigued by the drawings Will made. He tried to recreate them, and Will actually helped his technique a little, but it still wasn’t quite what Steve wanted to do.

And then one day, bored while waiting for his little friends to finish gawking at the nerd store he took them to in the city, Steve grabbed a pen from the counter and started his little doodles on his own arm, since he didn’t have any paper. And…he kind of liked that. One of the kids, Jane, noticed his drawing and held out her own arm for him to draw on. And he liked that a lot better.

After that, Steve began noticing tattoos on people. Permanent drawings that didn’t wash off, and things his father absolutely hated. And there were a lot of different styles, he noticed. And soon Steve was purchasing books about tattoo techniques and styles, about the history of tattoos in different cultures, and, with the last money he ever got from his father, he bought himself tattoo equipment and fake skin to practice on.

Steve really likes drawing, but he loves tattooing more. He looks nothing like your typical tattoo artist though, with his pastels and polos and styled hair that still speaks of his prep upbringing. He’s not covered in tattoos or piercings, but he slowly makes a name for himself. He gets a job in a studio, attends conventions and things, growing in skill and practice until one day he can afford his own little shop all his own.

When a new tattoo parlor opens up right next door to Eddie’s flower shop, he’s ecstatic at first. He could use a new tattoo. Then he meets the owner and there’s no way this jock looking pretty boy can handle the sort of ink that Eddie wants. He sees the work the man does, pretty watercolor flowers and cliché anchors, and figures the guy would run screaming for the hills if he had to tattoo a screaming skull or something.

Maybe they kind of snip at each other in passing, though Steve seems to enjoy it and laughs at Eddie’s sarcasm, and Eddie…Eddie likes his laugh and his smile. Maybe Steve buys a single flower one day, then tucks it into Eddie’s hair with a smirk before leaving silently, and Eddie…doesn’t know what to do with that.

Maybe one day Eddie sees an original piece Steve is working on, a bipedal monstrous creature with slimy looking skin and a head that opened into petals full of teeth. It was metal as fuck. Steve explains it’s his own interpretation of a monster from this game these kids (not kids anymore) he used to babysit would play, and Eddie…Eddie realizes he’s in very real danger of falling in love with this man.

Lucky for him, Steve is already smitten with the metalhead florist who works next door; he’s just been waiting for Eddie to catch up.

For their first date, Steve tattoos him for free, then they go and get honest to Satan milkshakes afterwards. Their next date, Eddie takes him to the local public gardens and tells him all about the flora there, their scientific names and history, and afterwards they get coffee and talk about what they want in life. Their third date they go to a vintage drive-in movie, though neither could tell you what it was they went to see, far too busy with…other pursuits.

A few years later, after Eddie says yes to the ring, they get matching tattoos of the other’s initials in the petals of a flower with teeth. When they get married, they get the date they met tattooed to their inner wrist.

Later, they add the date the little girl they adopt officially becomes part of their family. A few years after that, that same little girl grins as she watches a new date be added to their wrists, holding the boy who just became her little brother.

By the time Eddie and Steve retire, their wrists are full of dates. Eddie tends to a little garden outside their home, their kids helping out whenever they visit with the grandkids, taking over when Eddie just wants to sit and enjoy the flowers. Steve is there with him, a canvas open as he sketches and later paints Eddie and their family amongst the flowers.

Sometimes, as a little treat, he’ll even add a little demogorgon hidden amongst the blooms for Eddie to find. Eddie always likes those ones the best.

-

No pressure tags: @derythcorvinus @katyawriteswhump @fkinkindagauche @sp0o0kylights @skitchskatchbat and you guessed it, tagging you first 😤 @stervrucht

[ilovetulips]

fem!reader x older!tattooartist!eddiemunson

part 2 !

WARNINGS : smut 18+ pls ,, age gap (ages aren’t rlly mentioned but r is 21, e is 39) ,, p in v and all the stuff that comes w it ,, lots of petnames ,, use of yn!

A/N : first smut ive ever written. so scared rn. hope u all like it

———

you’d be lying if you said you weren’t absolutely petrified walking into the small hallway containing each tattooist’s room. your legs were shaking and your heart was pounding, so much so that your vision blurred as you stepped up to your assigned room.

“eddie munson”, you could eventually make out from the sign on the door.

entering the spacious room, you look around and take in the darkened walls littered with various drawings, the long bed on the left side covered in cellophane and the faint sound of music playing.

it took you a while to finally catch sight of the mess of dark curls on the right hand side, bopping his head to the music slightly, small grey hairs shining in the light and his hand scratching his pencil against the paper below him.

“h…hi.” you voice squeaked out in a stutter, sounding completely different to how you usually speak.

“can i help you?” he barks out rudely, not even turning to look at you.

“oh i’m sorry, i must’ve got the wrong room. sorry for disturbing you.” you begin to back out of the doorway behind you, before his brown eyes shoot up and meet yours.

“shit- sorry sweet thing, thought you were maria from next door. c’mere, sit down.” he gives you a cheesy smile while his eyes widen slightly. “you my 2 o’clock, yeah?”

your palms shine with a thin layer of sweat, originating from both excitement and nerves. “mhm, should be under the name y/n.”

“gottcha sweetheart, beautiful name. what’s a sweet thing like you doing in a place like this, hm?”he rolls over in his chair to where you’re sat on the bed, placing his large palms over your trembling knees.

he smirks down at them before focusing on you, his pupils blowing out and looking at your lips every now and then.

“it’s m’first tattoo… can you tell?” you look up at him shyly through your eyelashes, his face intimidating you - not that you were scared of him, he was just really attractive.

“yeah, you’re shakin’ like a leaf doll, but i’m here to help ya stay calm. whattcha thinking of getting?” he tucks a stray hair of your behind your ear before leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

god his arms were consumed in ink, only adding to his attractive qualities.

———

you spoke to eddie about the design, placement and all necessary paperwork before you were relaxed on the bed, laying on your side and watching the boy prep his tattoo machine.

you had a few voice cracks and stuttered a bit while talking to him, mostly due to his stare shrinking you, but he had made you feel extremely calm while prepping you.

“mkay doll, gonna need you to lift that shirt up a tad for me n’ we’ll get started. no rush, you tell me when you’re ready and when you wanna stop. can you do that for me darlin’?” his chair rolls back over to you, his gun ready to go.

you nod your head and reach down to grab the hem of your shirt. you’re stopped, however, when eddie’s calloused hand covers yours.

“words, sweetness. need you to use ‘em.” he taps your skull with his other hand, and pinches the hem of your shirt with the other.

you can’t deny the blush tickling your face is because of him slowly driving you insane, but you’re not going to stop him. “i can do that.”

“for me?” he tilts his head, crows feet creasing around his eyes as he smiles.

“for you.” your lips stay in the oval shape as he moves your shirt himself, yet you can’t take your eyes of his own lips. you have no idea how old he is. late 30s maybe? is this wrong? you shouldn’t feel attracted to someone like 18 years older than you… right?

he catches sight of the band of your bra, all cute and lacy. now it’s his turn to blush slightly. he can’t help the wicked grin spreading across his features, such a pretty girl wearing such a pretty bra.

“now you tell me if it hurts too much, wouldn’t want to cause such a precious girl like you so much pain.” he’s good at this. really good at this. your face was now beet red, and your thighs were unconsciously clenching together. you hoped he wouldn’t notice - he did. and it went straight to his ego.

———

you’re about 15 minutes into the tattoo itself. eddie taking his time and meticulously placing every line with care. you can’t help the small noises you make when it becomes particularly painful, once again hoping he didn’t notice.

he stops with a sigh, the faint bzzing making the silence grow louder, and the tension more suffocating. “sweetheart, if you don’t stop making those pretty noises i’m not gonna make it through this tattoo.”

his darkened pupils look up at you through his curls gracing his forehead. you didn’t know how to react, so you just stared at him with parted lips and slightly widened eyes. you, luckily, were too oblivious to notice the amount of times he had to adjust himself in his pants, and the prominent boner he was sporting right now.

he knew it was “unprofessional”, but he had never had a client like you before. you walk in with a cute little shirt and skirt, lacy underwear and give him doe eyes while moaning to yourself and expect him to not react?

“m sorry… didn’t realise i was doing it.” you look away from him, trying to focus on the artwork on the walls, but only being able to focus on the growing wet patch in your underwear. he has a way with words, and he’s incredibly attractive.

“don’t have to apologise, i like ‘em. but they’re driving me insane over here princess.” he leans down to meet your eyes in front of your head. the tension was so intense you were practically choking on it. he can’t help but reach over and trace your lips with his thumb, pulling your bottom lip down while you let him do it.

“so pretty.” he mumbles, leaning back and patting your thigh before reaching to finish the tattoo. “want you to lie just on your back now, yeah? nearly there doll.” and so you do, until the pleasure pain was so much that you were arching off the bed, your breasts nearly spilling out the top of your shirt.

eddie was glad he was wearing jeans that day, so the wet patch of precum in his boxers wouldn’t soak into their material. you, however, were not glad to be wearing a skirt with such easy access to your underwear, and the larger wet patch soaking them.

“fuck- baby you can’t keep doing that. you’re makin’ it real hard to concentrate over here.” he rubs his hand over his face and reaches for the cup of water on the small table next to him.

“…sorry.” you smile sheepishly. “can we… uh take a break?”

“course princess, you want anythin’?” by anything he means a snack or some water - but you’d hoped the offer was for something else.

you shake your head no before looking back up at the ceiling. that didn’t last long until you could feel someone’s eyes on you - eddie’s.

he was sat, legs spread and arm leaning on it, his veins prominent in the hand pinching his lip. but his eyes were the most captivating, as they were black. full of lust and desire. you saw the affect you had on him, and to be honest you have never felt so attractive or turned on.

you turned your head to look at him, lolling it to the side before contorting your body fulling to the side. your skirt flicked up and caught your hip as you did, revealing your panties and causing eddie to groan.

he clamped his eyes shut before walking over to you, gripping your chin with his pointer finger and thumb and forcing you to look up at him. “i can’t tell if you’re doing this on purpose, or you’re just dumb.” his words shocked you.

“m not doing anything, eds.” you tilt your head to the side slightly, smirking as you did so. you weren’t doing it on purpose yourself, but maybe your body was just reacting naturally to him and doing it to make him look.

“eds? we’re on nickname basis now sweets?” he leaned down, his hot breath fanning across your lips as you squirm under his gaze. you nod dumbly as his hand travels to grip your jaw and rub his thumb across your lips again. you were practically panting, desperately trying to relieve yourself without him realising.

“you gone all shy now? after that whole performance?” he presses his lips to the base of your throat, peppering slow kisses up it’s centre before meeting your lips. “maybe i’ll just let you sort yourself out. who knows who else you’ve been a little slut for.”

a whine escapes your lips as he pulls away from your lips, missing his warmth. the name going straight to your cunt and making you needier.

“jus’ you. i promise. couldn’t help myself.” you mumble, looking down at your hands in your lap.

“don’t act all innocent with me angel, i know what you want, and you know what you were doing. want you to tell me what you want from me.” he crouches down in front of you, hands on your thighs and inching up slowly.

“need you to touch me. want you so bad.” you squeak out, shuffling about on the bed.

“oh yeah? want me to make you cum, sweet girl?” he peels back your skirt, your panties on full display as you lean on your elbows to look at him curse under his breath. he grips your knees and spreads your legs further apart, eyeing the wet patch between your legs.

“god you’re so wet, i can see it from here. got you all worked up hm?” he presses kisses on your inner thighs, watching you squirm until he roughly grabs your hips. his stubble scratching your thigh slightly as he kisses higher.

you hum in agreement, focused on the growing tension about to snap. that was until you felt his fingers pull at the sides of your underwear, pulling them down to show off your glistening folds.

he growls slightly, groaning at the sight before pulling your panties off and basically diving into your pussy. licking strips from your hole to your clit, humming and rolling his eyes back at the taste.

he was eating you out like a starved man, sucking at your clit and poking his tongue into your hole while you were a moaning mess above him. writhing and wriggling your hips, grinding into his face while you were overcome with intense pleasure. he brought his hand up, inserting a finger inside of you before lifting his head up and smiling.

“tastes like heaven, sweetheart. so so sweet f’me fuck.” he reaches that spongey part inside of you, your moans growing whinier as you reach your climax. he roughly covers your mouth with his hand, muffling the sounds you’re making before watching his finger plunge in and out of you.

he starts sucking at your clit again, mewling at the taste of you before adding a second finger to thrust into you. your eyes were rolling back into your head as he coached you to your climax. you failed to notice the poor boy practically grinding the floor, trying to find any way to relieve himself while relishing in your pleasure.

“you gonna cum baby? yeah? go on, cum all over my tongue darlin’”. he poked his tongue back into your hole before making his way back to your clit. he was sloppy, the sounds of him and his tongue filling the room and probably the hall next to it. you didn’t have time to think about it though before white fuzzies took over your vision, and the coil inside you snapped.

eddie slowed his pace down, but lapped at the hot white liquid spurting from your hole. he was basically kitten licking it by the time you’d snapped out of your intense climax. you’d slept with guys before, with women before, but none had ever made you feel like this.

so you grabbed him by his hair into a kiss, teeth clashing and tongues dancing. you hum sweetly at the taste of yourself being transferred from him to you, trailing your hands down his chest and towards his bulge. he looked big, but nothing could’ve prepared you what he was actually hiding.

he sat down, spreading his legs as you knelt down in front of him, holding his cock in your hand and staring at it. he hissed as the cold air hit his sensitive tip, sticky with precum. he chuckled darkly at your expression, grabbing his dick and slapping it against your cheek lightly a few times.

“you okay there, doll? you can take me.” he smirks, smug from your expression. you lean in, licking a stripe from his base to the tip and taking extra time to lick the prominent vein pulsing on the side. he groaned in pleasure, jutting his hips up into the air before you grasp him with both hands and lick his tip a few times.

you watch his face the whole time, scrunched up in pleasure and making him look so much more attractive. swirling your tongue around his tip and licking the precum away, you start to take him down your throat until your nose hits the base.

“fuuu-uck. where’d you learn that you little slut? used to suckin’ big dick are ya?” his groans are sent straight to your core, making you wetter than before.

you pull away with a ‘pop’, and look into his eyes. “you’re so big, eds. biggest i’ve ever seen.” you’re about to go down again until he grabs your face harshly, puckering your lips while he stands and looks down at you.

“don’t believe that. you gonna let me fuck your face now, sweetheart. quit teasin’.” he holds his cock, guiding his tip to your parted lips and thrusting his hips in slowly until you’re gagging. strings of curses tumble out of his mouth at the sensation as he pulls out and fucks your face harshly. his balls slapping on your chin while you moan and clench your pussy as he uses you as a fucktoy.

“such a good girl, letting me ruin your pretty mouth like this. fuck- perfect angel.” he’s holding your chin as tears flood down your cheeks from gagging so much. he’s thrusting so intense that your jaw is starting to ache.

“shit shit shit - gonna cum sweet girl. swallow it all f’me, be a good girl.” and so you did. hot ropes of his salty release coat your tongue and the back of your throat. you stick your tongue out at him, so he can see the dollops of him cum he left there before you swallow it all happily and sit up to kiss him again. watching you, eddie could feel himself getting hard again.

his tongue swipes over yours, both of your recent releases mixing together in your mouths. salty residues left at the corners of your mouths before you pull apart.

“bed. now.” he pants at you, walking you towards it until your back reaches it and you fall back. you spread your legs again, giving him a look at your pussy dripping with arousal again. he watched as a bead of the liquid travels down your thighs, before he laps it up and rubs his tip through your folds.

the sensation of his tip hitting your clit almost had you screaming, but you bit down on his shoulder instead as he sharply sucked air through his teeth.

“eddie- please.” you pant, the words coming out strained from desperation. hearing you beg for it did something to him, blood pumping to his tip more than before.

he plunged into you slowly, the burn of the stretch adding to your pleasure as eddie groaned. he went all the way in and stopped, kissing your collarbone before looking at you.

“feels so fuckin’ good. so tight for me.”

“move. please move- fuck.” he pulls his hips sharply, before slamming them back into pace and setting a rough pace to fuck into you at. he was so big, it felt like he was ruining your pussy and your organs. his tip prodding against your cervix, creating a bulge in your stomach that he pressed on.

“look at that. too big for your pussy to fit. fuck” the rough pace he set had led your moans into an incoherent string of words. you couldn’t process what was happening, just the intense pressure building in your stomach causing you to clench around him.

“y’fucked all dumb up there, angel? fuck- clenchin’ around me like that m’ not gonna last.” his hips stutter before falling back into their pace.

“fuckfuckfuckfuck” high pitched screams sound out of you, not caring who can hear anymore because it feels so good.

“my dumb girl, pussy’s made f’me isn’t she. god you’re perfect.” you can’t help but drool at his words, being fucked so dumb that you can’t remember words.

you clench harder around him, indicating you’re close as your moans mush together. his hips falter again, becoming overwhelmed by the wetness squeezing his cock. he reaches his hand down to your clit, and spits on your pussy before he spreads it around and rubs it in circles around the nub.

the sensation is so overwhelming, your orgasm crashes over you with no warning. you hadn’t even got a chance to warn eddie about needing to pee - which didn’t matter anyway as you squirted all over his dick. the lewd sounds still filling up the room as eddie doesn’t slow down.

“squirting all over me, fuckin’ slut. you’re gonna stay here till i cum, use you as my own little toy.” you were falling into being overstimulated, the climax still having it’s effects on you. but you notice him slowing his pace down.

“shit- gonna cum. can i cum in you, doll? feels so good i don’t wanna pull out. please?” he flops his head to your shoulder.

“please cum in me, eds. want you to cum so deep in me.” before you knew it, his warmth was spitting out of his sensitive dick, painting your inner walls white and mixing with your own release as he pulls out of you slowly.

the white liquid of both of your releases drips out of your hole, before eddie quickly puts your panties back on you to prevent it from dripping out, giving the puffy mound a few playful taps and causing you to hiss from overstimulation.

“want you to keep it all in there for me, like the good girl you are.” he kisses you sweetly before flipping your skirt back down and making sure you’re okay.

———

“that was the best sex i’ve ever had.” the man says next to you, arm around your shoulder as you trace the tattoos on his chest.

“me too. felt so good eds.” you smirk at the new nickname. you sit up and grab a pen from the table next to you. finding a space between the collage covering his body, you write your number down.

“i wanna see you again. call me?” you rest your chin on his chest.

“course i will sweetness.” he kisses your head before standing up and sitting back down in his rolling chair.

“y’wanna finish that tattoo now?”

[pcrfectstorms]

[ @kingsnackgsnack gets a modern tattoo artist eddie au starter ]

eddie loved his job, he's been at this studio for a few years now, build up a little reputation for himself, had a steady stream of regulars and his books would always be booked out for months in advance, he'd came along way from the shoddy stick and pokes he'd done on himself in high school. he had a new client on his books today for opening up, let his receptionist to do paperwork before introducing himself, oh and she brought a boyfriend, cute -- eddie didn't mind, first timers often brought a partner with then.

"hey! robin was it? nice to meet ya, know we talked on the phone but not the same right? so we're doing a little tarot card today? if you're good with the design i'll get it printed and we'll get ya up on the bed, your boyfriend coming in with ya?" he asks, eyes running over to steve, who was sitting anxiously in the waiting area. real pretty boy, he thinks, wonders if he has any ink himself. the girls happy with the design so they make their way into his room and he tells her to make her self comfy while he prints out the stencil. so it turns out he isn't her boyfriend, interesting -- so free game to flirt, and he does. "so, pretty boy, you got any ink?" he asks without looking up, eyes laser focused on the job at hand. "body's a canvas baby, everyone should have a little ink, but maybe i'm bias, is my livelihood after all." eddie jokes, pausing to wipe away the excess ink, he looks up and winks at steve.

[littlemissaddict]

Tattoo's - Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader gets her first tattoo much to Eddie's surprise.

Word Count: 1277

She didn’t hear the front door open, or Eddie announce his arrival home from work. She was in the bathroom focused on cleaning her new tattoo completely unaware of his presence until she caught sight of movement in the mirror out of the corner of her eye. “Eddie!” she smiled excitedly, spinning around to face him where he was now leaning against the door frame watching her with intrigue.

He chuckled slightly as he stepped towards her, “Now baby what’s gotten you so distracted that I didn’t get my proper welcome home” he teased, smiling down at her as she stood in front of him. He figured it must be something big as she couldn’t stand still, he could feel her excitement radiating from her as she swung her clasped hands in front of her all the while a grin spread across her face.

“Well…” she draws out, her eyes quickly glancing down, so quick that Eddie almost misses the movement but she speaks again before he can follow her gaze downwards. “You know how I’ve been wanting a tattoo for a while” is all she manages before he interrupts her.

“You didn’t” his eyes widened as she nodded at him, "Let me see, let me see" he pleaded, bouncing on the balls of his feet as his excitement rivalled her own.

Holding out her arm, she watched him as his eyes followed the black tendrils of ink spanning across her forearm. His hands reached out to twist her arm slightly so that he could see from a different angle which she allowed seeing as his hands weren't actually touching the tender skin. Although the moment his hands moved to try and trace over the lines, she was quick to slap them away. "Nope not with your dirty, greasy mechanic hands" she scolded lightly, ignoring the pout that appeared on his plush lips, "I have to keep it clean so that I don't risk it getting infected" she informed him. It was something she assumed he knew considering the assortment of tattoos that littered his body and she was quick to point that out to him, "I just want it to heal properly like yours" she reasoned when he responded with a 'but baby'

Eddie snickered at that, "Yeah considering mine were done from a friend of a friend in Rick's basement it's a wonder they healed at all" he revealed, something she hadn't known before.

"Eddie it's your body, your life but it could get really dangerous if they'd have gotten infected" she urged. She'd heard all sorts of horror stories of people who had gotten ill from an infected tattoo so much so that they almost died, she shook the thought away, not willing to think of Eddie like that and instead opting just to look at him with wide eyes while she waited for his response.

"Yeah well when you short of cash you take your chances where you can" he shrugged as if it was nothing but he didn't miss the way her eyes grew comically larger at his nonchalance of the subject, "but I promise that's in the past, my last few have been from accredited tattooists in a proper parlour so you don't have to worry your pretty little head" he assured her, sealing it with a kiss to her forehead.

It had the desired effect and she relaxed at his words, though making a promise to herself to watch him closely when he inevitably got his next one. "I hope so mister" she spoke with a pointed glare his way, playfully prodding his chest with her finger, which he wasted no time in grabbing and tugging her close to him, causing her to squeal at the unexpected movement. “But can you do me a favour and help me wrap it?” she pouted up at him once the room had stilled..

A smirk grew on Eddie’s face as he, as usual, found an innuendo in everything. “Oh we’re wrapping it up now, I thought you liked it raw?” he teased, laughing as a choked sound somewhere between a laugh and a gasp passed her lips as she placed her palm flat against his chest so she could push her body away from his.

“Un-fucking-believable” she scoffed turning her back to him, not that she could fool him as he had already seen the smile tugging at her lips, well that and he could see her reflection in the mirror now that she’d turned around.

Stepping forward, until his chest was pressed against her back, he slipped his arms around her middle and tucked his face into the crook of her neck, his warm breath tickling the skin as he spoke. “I’m only kidding baby,” followed by kisses up the column of her neck to just under her ear, “of course I’ll help you wrap it” he whispered against the shell of her ear before pulling away, chuckling to himself as her body tried to follow him. “Just gotta wash these dirty mechanic hands first” he spoke, repeating her earlier words back to her as he wiggled them in her face briefly and she scrunched her face up in response.

They were quiet as he washed his hands and she turned to get the wrap for her arm. Once his hands were dry, he took what he needed from her outstretched hands, his own working expertly to cut the wrap down to size and gently place it over the tender skin with ease before he secured it with a little tape so that it wouldn’t come off during the night.

“There all done” he pulled back to let her admire his handiwork and she whispered her thanks to him as her eyes remained cast down, still focused on her arm. Eddie reached out again, hands desperate to trace over the design, only this time she let him since there was no contact with her inked skin. “It really is beautiful, don't know how you managed to keep it a secret from me though” he laughed quietly, his eyes still focused on the black ink just like her.

“It was tough, I did want you there but then I didn’t want to tell people in case I chickened out last minute” she explained, a slight pout on her face as she did so.

Eddie nodded in understanding, a tattoo was a big commitment, something you had to be one hundred percent certain with considering it was on your body for the rest of your life. “Well I’m glad you didn’t, makes you look even more metal” he joked, sending a wink her way which made her laugh.

“Well that’s easy enough to do since the only thing metal about me is you” she spoke and he gasped in response.

“T’is not you are plenty metal” he argued as she shook her head which only caused him to rattle off a list of everything he believed made her the most metal person he knew. Smothering her in praise in the cramped bathroom of their shared trailer, in their own little bubble where they could be anything they wanted to as long as they had each other, something they both hoped would never change.

Eventually they moved to the couch in front of the old tv with bowls of boxed mac n cheese in their hands with the talk of future tattoos filling the space between them, which turned into future plans, which then finally turned into them falling asleep tangled with each other awkwardly on the couch in ways that would leave them aching in the morning but their hearts full in the present.

[alwaysahiccupandastrid]

ARE YOU KIDDING ME IM GETTING THE EDDIE MUNSON BAT TATTOO AND MY TATTOOIST JUST TOLD ME HE MET JOSEPH QUINN AND SMOKED A CIGARETTE WITH HIM RECENTLY???

[medlilove-fandom-brainrot]

I got so distracted by designing this coffeeshop on Homestyler (which is like crack to me, I can't describe how fun it is) that I nearly missed my bus to work and had to get ready in 5 mins.

But honestly, it's SO cute. I'm basing it off my friends co op coffee art space, tiny but has everything you need to tell fun coffee shop au stories

[orpheusredux]

The Eddies, part 2: Across the multiverse

Fic Summary: It’s been 457 days and seven hours, thirteen minutes and a handful of seconds since he saw her last, but he knows, before he even touches you, that you aren’t her. The universe just doesn’t like him enough to drop his soul mate at his feet like this. 

Fic Rating: 18+ only, minors DNI

Pairing: Eddie Munson/you, Eddie Munson/OFC

Warnings: Smut, suggestion of violence against women, family violence - parent against child, assault, angst, hopeful ending

A/N: None of this will make much sense unless you’ve The Eddies - Part 1. It also jumps back and forwards in time a little, until the past catches up with the events in The Eddies part 1, so it might seem a little hard to follow at first, but by the time you get to the end it will all become clear. I wrote this follow up after some folks asked for more Eddie with short hair with the reader. I didn’t really know how I could manage that without telling more of a story about how he got to be the broken guy I was trying to write in that story. Classic me: I started out wanting to write a lighthearted romp based on all the pictures of the Eddie wardrobe and wig tests going round, but then I was listening to a lot of Lana Del Rey and feeling really sad about everything and suddenly I got this real biker Romeo and Juliette vibe and so this is what came out. A lot of it is sad and vicious, but I feel like it ends on a hopeful note. I also added a bit of a nod to The Bear, because I got it in my head that if my short haired Eddie exists in any universe, it’s one where working in a restaurant will break your dick and give you PTSD. The fact everyone is smiling in the edit above is meant to be ironic.

Fic paylist: Across the Multiverse

It’s been 457 days and seven hours, thirteen minutes and a handful of seconds since he saw her last, but he knows, before he even touches you, that you aren’t her. 

The universe just doesn’t like him enough to drop his soul mate at his feet like this. 

*

Eddie pulled the carburetor out of the 84 Chrysler and ran a rag over it to see what he was up against. It was a mess, but he reckoned he had one he could replace it with lying around somewhere. The lean-to behind his trailer was piled high with bits of the cars he’d boosted, cracked and stripped. There’d be something in here that worked. 

It was hot out, so the roller was up, and Eddie had stripped down to his vest. The top of his blue overalls were pulled down around his waist, the arms tied in front to keep them up. Sweat rolled down his back, prickling on his skin the seconds after a tattooist lifts the needle. He squeezed his shoulders together and cracked his neck. He got like this sometimes, a tightness in his gut and between his shoulders that told him to watch out. Last time had been when - when she left. Time before that he’d ended up in County for six months; and the time before that was his Mom died. His dad ending up in the Pen, meeting Donny, breaking his wrist when he was 15; all these points in his life were associated with the same slick, prickling sensation that felt physical, but really wasn’t. His mom had always called him a sensitive boy. He figured this is what she meant. 

He stuck his head out the roller door and looked up the lane towards the highway. Rick had the local sheriff, Hopper, in his back pocket, so the lean-to was about as safe as a felon could get in this town. But every now and then Hopper got the hump, and had to stretch his legs a little. He’d rough a couple of the boys up, make them spend a couple of nights in choky. Then Rick would breeze in, blow smoke up his ass, ply him with some of that good quality Brown he liked, and things would go back to normal. Hopper would look the other way while the Tomahawks did what Tomahawks do - a little light B&E, a touch of grand theft auto, some mild dealing. 

With the way he was feeling, Eddie had half expected to see a couple of cherry tops cruising his way, but the only thing in the lane was the dust and a little heat haze - unusual for this time of year, sure, but hardly the kind of thing that usually triggered that weird spidey sense for danger he had.  

The screen door on the trailer banged, and Eddie half jumped out of his skin. Spinning on his heel he saw Rick, his hands cupped around the cigarette he was lighting, grinning his three tooth grin. 

“What’s got you so jumpy,” he asked, shaking out the match and flicking the dead head into the weeds. 

“The fuck you been?” Eddie flipped him the bird and ducked back into the shade of the lean to, calling out as he went. 

“Donny’s kid’s coming in from LA,” Rick replied as he walked into the lean-to seconds later.

Eddie nodded, grabbed the dirty cloth from the hood of the car, and started scrubbing at the grease on his hands. If he had a best friend, it was probably Rick, but the fact he was hearing this news from him reminded him Rick was something else too - his keeper. 

“College? Or the one in choky?” 

“College,” Rick said, kicking an abandoned tire. “Needs collecting from Indianapolis.”

“OK?” Eddie felt another bead of sweat roll between his shoulder blades. If he relaxed, he’d be twitching like a tweaker.

“Asked you to do it. Since you’re family an’ all.” 

He wasn’t blood kin, but “family” was what you called a guy who’d been jumped in. Family was Tomahawk.

“OK.” 

It was a three day trip, there and back - if he didn’t fuck around. He could take the van, rather than the bike, so they wouldn’t have to stay in a motel. Weather this warm, he could sleep on a bedroll outside. 

He lay down the creeper and pushed himself into the stifling hot darkness under the car and almost immediately pushed himself back out. 

“I’ll do it,'' he told Rick’s ankles, and didn’t wait for a reply before pushing himself back under again.

*

Even if he hadn’t known on sight, the superficial stuff would have clued him in eventually. Your hair is a little blonder, your cut-offs a little shorter, you don’t chew your nails, your voice is pitched a little lower, and when you look at him, it doesn’t feel like you can see his heart beating, right inside his chest. 

The thing that hits him - and hurts him - though, is that you just seem lighter, unburdened, even if you are a little frazzled after falling out of what Eddie can only describe as a giant, gnarly pussy on the ceiling of - where is he? Is this his - his trailer in Hawkins? What the fuck is going on?

*

The airport was loud after a day and a half on the road alone. The traffic, loud speakers, shouting; on the road, he’d just had his thoughts, which were loud enough. He’d spent the night lying awake in the back of the van - a goddamned oven in that heat - staring at the ceiling. He was fucking amazed Smokey hadn’t come snooping round a beat up old panel van parked on the side of the road. The license plate was clean, but didn’t belong to the van, so anyone getting real interested would know something was up straight away. Apparently Smokey was on holiday that week, so he’d made it to the airport no problem and now here he was sitting in a parking garage watching the clock on the dash. 

At 2pm, he walked to the arrival gate to wait - briefly considered making one of those phony pick up signs, “car for Miss…”, thought that would make her laugh, but he couldn’t write for shit. Instead he just stood where he could be seen, leaning on the wall, picking at his teeth with his switchblade like a fucking psycho - at least he figured that’s what he looked like, based on the number of people giving him a wide berth. 

She came through the gate at about 2:25, lugging a suitcase almost as big as she was, her long hair falling like waves around her shoulders, and Eddie felt that prickling along his spine go deeper, right in behind his heart, like a thousand tiny cell-sized knives being plunged into him. He’d spent the entire drive up thinking about how he’d be when he saw her again, what he’d say, how Clint fucking Eastwood he was going to be about it. But it all went out the window when she looked up, straight into his eyes, and he saw the recognition flash there.

She dropped her bag, almost threw it aside, and ran at him. He stuffed the knife in his back pocket and held out his arms as she jumped, catching her round her waist and under her bare thigh, up high, where her cut offs met her ass.

“Thank fuck,” she breathed, face pressed into his shoulder, her arms tight around his neck. “Thank fuck.” 

He was almost bowled over by it, by the warm-soft joy of her, lighter than air, in his arms. 

“I didn’t even say your name when I called him. I didn’t even dare,” she said, breathless. “Thought he’d send Gareth or, God help me, Rick. Two days in a car with Rick, can you imagine? No fuckin’ thank you.” 

He let her down gently, not releasing her till her feet were on the ground, then he turned and picked up her bag - Jesus, it was heavy, full of the books she fed that big brain of hers. He was glad to carry it as it meant he couldn’t, wouldn’t be able to, touch her, but she grabbed his free hand and hung on anyway. 

Walking back to the van, he let her rabbit in about school, her finals, her room mate who was simultaneously “the fucking best” and “absolutely the worst”, and about coming home for Spring Break instead of going to Cancun with her friends.  

The slow, silky timbre of her voice washed over Eddie like a wave. He felt knots in muscles he didn’t even know he had unspooling like fishing line; the way her hands moved endlessly, darting through the air like lures, her eyes glittering like hooks in the water.He felt each glance, each smile she flicked his way snag in his heart and yank him forward. How long till he landed on her shore? How long till he was laid out, gasping for breath, begging for the blunt force trauma that would put him out of his misery? 

Eddie felt her gently knock her shoulder into his. 

“So, how did you swing it? Two days on the road together.” 

He dropped his head, trying hard to shake off the tight feeling between his shoulder blades.   

“He said it was a family job.”

They grabbed the rest of her luggage and made their way back to the parking garage. 

“Eddie? Did you hear what I said?” 

Eddie had not in fact heard what she’d said. He’d been in dream land. He shook his head, blinked. 

“Sorry, I was - I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Motel beds, huh? Dreaming of me?” 

“No,” he’d answered, faster and more emphatically than he’d meant to. “I slept in the van. Figured you could do that tonight.” 

He didn’t look at her to see what she thought of the idea of sleeping in the back of the van. But when she didn’t reply, just took hold of his hand again, he figured he understood clearly enough.  After a couple of seconds, Eddie gently shook his hand loose. He’d have done it sooner, but he really was tired, and it had felt good. 

*

“There’s been a blip,” a loud, strange looking kid tells him, before launching into some science bullshit Eddie can’t get his head round. All he knows is that one minute he was standing on a street corner considering boosting the 87 Camaro he’d just seem park outside the starbucks, the next he was here, covered in snot, looking a four - wait, five - guys who look just like him but really fucking aren’t. 

And then there’s you, you look just like her but really fucking aren’t, too. He helps you to your feet and the second you’re standing, one of the other…Eddies… grabs you by the arm and pulls you into the kitchen. 

*

He drove for longer than was probably safe, considering the night he’d had before. She sat beside him, sideways in the passenger seat, her knees pulled up, swapping out his tapes, singing along - “DJing,” she called it - demanding he play guess the tune and stopping the tapes after a few seconds. Anyone else would have gotten a clip round the ear for treating his tapes like that, but his rules didn’t apply to her. She’d never obeyed a single one anyway, not since the first day he’d met her. 

When he couldn’t put it off a minute more, he pulled into a truck stop with a diner and parked up right next to the tree line. It was sometime around midnight, hot and noisy with big rigs coming and going, and the interstate just a couple of hundred feet away. But he figured he’d be OK on his bed roll under the trees; figured he wouldn’t get run over by a half-asleep trucker in the middle of the night. As soon as the van was in park she climbed down, and he’d tried hard not to stare as she stretched, the vest she was wearing rode up, exposing the soft rounded whiteness of her belly. 

“I gotta pee,” she said, scratching her thigh.  

“Don’t be long,” Eddie called as she walked off towards the diner. He watched her walk away, the slow, sweet swing of her hips in those cut offs was mesmerizing - didn’t think she had half a clue she was even doing it. 

He opened the back, grabbed his bedroll and a sleeping bag, and rolled them out under the stars. There was a mattress in back, he’d put clean sheets on it and taken his best pillow off his own bed for her. She’d be comfortable. And since he was outside, she’d be safe enough to leave the windows down, so she wouldn’t roast in there. Satisfied he’d made it as comfortable as he could for her, he lay down in the half dark, and waited for her to come back, but he was exhausted and it wasn’t even ten minutes before he was out like a light. 

He’d have stayed asleep, too, if something hadn’t smashed into his ankle and woken him up. 

*

Eddie can’t take his eyes off the guy. He’d always wanted to grow his hair out, but in the crowd he ran with it’d have been suicide. And yet here he was, with long hair four times over. 

As the day wears on Eddie realizes there are other things this long-haired Eddie, this kid, has that he’s always wanted. This trailer is his uncles, from what he can gather. He don’t boost cars for a living, neither, he’s in fucking high school. 

Then he has to stand there and watch you cup this guy’s cheek and smooth your thumb under his eye and whisper something soft and sweet.

For a few seconds Eddie knows rage, bright and hot, like nothing he’s ever felt before. Rage, so incandescent she gave him, unfolds it, and digs the blade into his gum. He leans into the pain, let’s it wash over him, clean and white and ice cold. 

*

“What the fuck,” he said sitting bolt upright. 

“What do you mean, ‘what the fuck’? What the fuck are you doing out here?” she said, voice slightly shrill. 

Eddie squinted, blinking up at stadium style lights above the truck stop. The light behind her made her hair glow like a halo. She had a couple of cokes in one hand and a bag of what, if the grease staining the paper was anything to go by, were probably truck stop burgers in the other. 

“You’re not sleeping in the fucking dirt, while I’m in there,” she said, gesturing to the back of the van. “It’s a double mattress, for fuck’s sake.” 

“Donny - Ow, fucking’ quit it,” Eddie cried when she kicked at him again. 

She looked forlornly into the back of the van. Even annoyed she looked so fucking beautiful, the little crease in her brow, the way she just wasn’t scared of him - wasn’t scared of anything; the way she knew exactly what he wanted because she wanted it too. It terrified him. They couldn’t, could not, go on like this. Someone was going to get hurt. She was going to get hurt and then he would have to…he’d have to…If anything happened to her, he’d burn the whole fucking world to the ground and himself with it. 

Before he could finish the thought, she nudged him with her foot. 

“Please, Eddie,” she’d said.

Something snapped inside him. He clambered out of the bed clothes and barrelled her up against the side of the van. She’d laughed at first, then she’d seen the look on his face. 

“What did you think? What the fuck did you think, Princess?” Eddie said, gripping her jaw in one hand, his other hand bruisingly tight around her bicep. 

The prickling down his spine - inside his spine - intensified. It felt like if he looked down he’d see hundreds of tiny holes in his chest weeping blood, right where his heart should be. A wave of nausea washed over him, but he had to make her see, had to make her understand this wasn’t safe - he wasn’t safe. She wasn’t safe with him. He shook her, once, hard and sharp. One of the coke bottles slipped from between her fingers onto the asphalt and smashed. 

“Do you think this is funny?” Eddie said, biting out the words. “Did you think Daddy sent me so we could have a good time?”

“Eddie…” Her eyes had gone wide with shock. He could see himself reflected in them. 

“You think I want my nuts nailed to the black top? My throat cut - your throat cut? You’re Donny’s fucking daughter.” 

“Eddie,” she said, her voice small but steady. “You’re hurting me.”   

Like a bucket of water over his head, her words made him jerk back. What the fuck was he doing? He stepped away from her.

“Fuck. Fuck. I’m sorry,” he said, hating how feeble it sounded after what he’d just done. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and turned his back on her.  “Jesus - look at what he makes me do. Look at what he’s turned me into.”

Her hand on his back made him flinch, but she didn’t stop, just pressed in closer, pressed her warm, soft body along his cold, aching one, her cheek against his shoulder. Comfort and strength and love.  

“After you left,” Eddie said, when he had control of his voice again, “He said it would be good for me to know you were going somewhere I could never, ever follow. He said - He said he wouldn’t let you get ruined by someone like me. As if that's - As if I wanted to…” 

“Look, my Dad…” 

“Your dad is a fucking psychopath,” Eddie said in a rush. “God forgive me - your dad would fucking kill us both before he’d let me - us… you know that, right? You know it? This, this road trip, this is his fucking idea of a test.” 

Her arms came around his waist then, and she hugged him hard. 

“But, you know why, Eddie,” she said, softly, gently, like she didn’t want to spook him. “You know why? He knows what I know, that you’re ten times, a thousand times the man he’ll ever be. He’s scared of you, Eddie; he’s scared of us.” 

Eddie felt his chest burst open, all his insides spilling out onto the asphalt, his heart thumping painfully as it bounced around on the blood slick ground. Then he opened his eyes and looked down to see not carnage, but his hands in her hands, his arms entwined in her arms, so wrapped up in one another he could hardly tell where she ended and he began, like they were one fantastical being, a many armed god of destruction. Kali of the Truck Stop. 

“I thought I was dying when you left,” he whispered. “I had to keep boosting cars, and making nice with him, with Rick. Thought about going to Hopper, turning narc. But I knew he’d get to you before I could. It felt like I’d been cored out. There wasn’t anything left in me.” 

“I know, baby,” she whispered, flattening her palm against the cavity where his heart should be. “I know, I felt it too.” 

He turned, and put his hands on her shoulders, slid them up to wrap around her throat. She held his wrists, and he felt how fragile she was, how slight and thin skinned and delicate. He pushed her back against the side of the van again, gently this time, away from the truck stop lights, into the shadows, and pressed himself against her. Her eyes were wet with unshed tears, but she held his gaze, defiant. 

“Do you think I came back to see him?” She said, “I know what my father is. I know what you are. You’re part of my fucking soul, you dumb piece of shit.”

She squirmed against him, reached up and wrapped her own hands around his throat. 

She tilted her face to his and he gave in, pressed a hot, open mouthed kiss to her waiting lips, pushed out his tongue to meet hers. There was no finesse, just spit, and need and the soft velvet of her tongue in his mouth where it belonged.  

Who the fuck was Donny to keep her from him? Who the fuck?

He pulled back, and she made a keening, animal sound; disappointed and desperate. He pressed his forehead to hers. They were panting together, like dogs in heat. 

“Get in the fucking van,” Eddie breathed.

*

He doesn’t want to hurt you, but he’s pretty sure there’s no way you’ll go somewhere private to a talk with him, so when he sees his chance to get you alone, he fucking takes it. 

It’s not until he has you barrelled up against the bathroom cabinet that he realizes how badly he’s misjudged this. You are fucking terrified - defiant - but terrified. 

He holds his hands up and pulls back from you. Tells you he’s not going to hurt you, even though he knows you won’t believe him.

Eddie had grown up Tomahawk. His dad had been in, his granddad before him, too. He’d been one of the founding members right after the war. It was a bit like being in a pack of dogs - you wore your status like a pelt. Scaring the normies was part of the fun. 

It had always made her laugh when he got rowdy in the supermarket, or started a fight in a bar over some made up slight against her. She liked the drama, liked being manhandled, expected it. 

But you are not that woman. 

*

They reached for each other in the half-dark, hands and bodies colliding, but once he was touching her he could see everything clearly. 

He slipped the string straps of her camisole off her shoulders, baring her breasts and he bent his mouth to her like a starving man, sucking and biting his way across her sternum from one soft peak to the other. 

“Do you love me?” She whispered in dark, and he could feel her shivering despite the heat.  

“Do you even have to ask?” Eddie whispered back, “I never stopped. I’ll never stop,” and he sucked her pebbled nipple between his lips again. 

Keening, she wrapped her arms around his head, back arched, holding his mouth in place. 

“God, I’ve missed your mouth so much,” she said, tugging on his hair. “Kiss me, baby, I want your tongue again.”

As they kissed, he scrambled to unbutton her cut offs and push them down her thighs. She wriggled, trying to help without dislodging his mouth from hers. It was frantic, desperate. She bit his lip, and sucked searing kisses along his jaw. 

He watched her copy him, biting and licking her way across his chest to his flat nipples. There was something almost lewd about the way she suckled on him like he’d done to her, the way he wanted to hold her there, like a nursing mother holding her baby. His cock was pressed hard against the steel teeth of his zipper and he honestly believed that little pinch was the only thing stopping him from creaming himself like he had the first time she ever touched him, when they were just kids. 

When he couldn’t wait anymore, he pushed her back roughly, grabbing and moving her thighs, her ass, til she whined, til she was spread out for him. Then he dealt with the rest of his clothes, eyes fixed on the juncture of her thighs where she touched herself as she watched him undress. 

He could smell her sex - that sweet, fatty, moreish smell he’d once thought he caught in his bedroom, long after she’d moved away; the one that he snuffled through his bedclothes in search of, only to wind up lying face down in his sheets screaming his frustration into a dirty pillow that almost - almost - tasted like her. Now here was being offered that sweet, ripe fruit for real - not in a dream, not in some sad, lonely fantasy, but real and fresh and creamy pink.  

When he forced her knees back, her pussy opened for him like a ripe peach torn apart by eager thumbs. 

Eddie smoothing his hands down her inner thighs, massaging the shivering muscle till he was framing her sex with his thumbs and forefingers.

“Eddie,” she  whined, canting her hips. “Please.” 

He nodded, dropped down onto his elbows and buried his face in her core, pressing the broad, wet, flat of his tongue through her folks and inside, deep as he could get, until she was all but writhing under him. Her feet,toes curled, slapped against his shoulders, her fingers threaded into his hair and she held on as he sucked her clit, bit it and hummed against; as she bucked against his face. 

“Oh - oh fuck,” she cried. “Like that, yes. Just like that.” 

In a little while he felt her thighs shaking. He pulled back, but only long enough to stuff her full of his fingers, two first, then three. She was so wet, sopping and open. Every little sound she made went straight to his cock, made him rut against the mattress until he had to stop and lift his hips till the feeling he was going to nut any second backed down.

He felt her get impossibly wetter, and wanted her to come like this, on his tongue, spread out for him. He pushed a fourth finger into her cunt, slowly at first, then harder, and felt her clench down on his hand, felt her all but jackknife up from the mattress.

She was silent as she came, the agony of it shining from her face, her mouth a perfect O, eyes clenched shut. At the end, she sounded like she was choking.

“Eddie,” she called, like her heart was breaking. “Edd-ieee.”

“That’s my girl. That’s it,” he said, pulling off her clit with a pop. “Take my fucking fist, that’s my girl.”  

When she could speak again, she said, “Come here. God, hold me, please.” 

He sank down next to her, hissing when his cock touched the mattress, and pulled her against his body. 

She was shivering, he pulled the sheet out from under then and wrapped then both up in it.

“I - I tried to touch myself while I was away,” she whispered, still so intimate, “but it was too - I just missed you too much. I’d end up fucking crying.” 

He could see there were unshed tears in her eyes even now. 

“I just wanted this,” she said, brushing a stray curl back from his brow and clinging to him. “I didn’t want anything else.” 

“All those rich college boys, the parties,” he asked, leaning down to kiss his glistening neck. “You never?” 

“Why the fuck would I let one of them near me after you? There’s only ever been you, Eddie.” 

He shifted over her, and she reached down to take hold of his cock, sliding her thumb up the thick vein there, to the spongey mushroom head. 

Eddie hissed, clenched his eyes shut, grit his teeth. 

“I only ever want you,” she breathed as she guided his cock into her. 

It was almost like breathing, in, out, in and out, involuntary, necessary, compelled by some force he barely recognised. After only a few strokes, he could feel his orgasm building, not just in his balls, but in his groin, in his solar plexus, behind his eyes. Every stroke was like a hot wire, from his cock, through his balls, his asshole, his stomach, to his heart. He heard someone sobbing, gasping, muffled and far away, and it took him long, hot seconds to realize it was him, gasping into her neck as she cooed to him, and stroked every bit of his skin she could reach, smoothing her hands over him, urging him on. 

“That’s it baby,” she purred. “Fill me up, God. Make me feel it.” 

He felt her squeezing down on him, raising her hips to meet his. Then he heard the breath catch in her chest. 

“Mmhmmm,” he purred back, straight into her ear. “Knew you I could get you there again. Knew you had another one in you. That’s it. Take it, yeah? Take my cock.” 

They chased it together, until Eddie couldn’t hold it in anymore. 

“I’m gonna come, baby. Come with me, yeah?” He pushed himself up, his hands on either side her, above her shoulders, and watched his body entering her over and over, watched her tits bounce and sway with every thrust. 

She grabbed her hair, the blanket underneath them, her nipples hard. She bit her lip, and grabbed the backs of her own knees, opening herself wider. 

Eddie groaned. “Come on my cock, baby. Come on my cock. Please. Just let go. Let it go for me.” 

His orgasm lanced through him, and everything went white and pink behind his clenched eyelids. A few seconds later he felt her go rigid around him, her arms and legs locking. 

In High School, he’d once heard some nerds call it “the little death”. He’d thought that was a fucking stupid way to describe something that had always made him feel like he was finally alive. But here, tonight, in the back of the van, with the condensation dripping from the walls and the ceiling onto your searing hot skin, he understood what it meant. 

There was no more her and him, there was only the perfect flow of love and sex between two lobes of the same brain, two valves of the same heart. If he never fucked another woman again as long as he lived, he wouldn’t care. He’d been born again, lived and died in her cunt tonight. Nothing else mattered. 

Eddie was still inside her when the van doors were wrenched open. 

*

Even though you’re terrified, you don’t back down, you don’t give in. 

You’re just like that version of himself out there, the one he’d seen you kissing

He doesn’t have a scar where his lover’s father tried to cut his face off. He’s never just fucking lain there and watched you being dragged across the asphalt by your hair, half undressed,  screaming for him. He’s never felt Rick’s boot on the back of his neck, heard his voice hiss, “for Christ’s sake, son, stay the fuck down”, and just fucking done that.

No, that guy’s fought for you. That guy deserved you. 

*

Later, Eddie remembered white and red flashes as something connected with the side of his head, muffled screaming and a vivid picture in his mind of her shoe sitting empty in the middle of the parking lot. 

For months afterwards the image of that shoe would pop in his head and it would be like he was there again, sweating and shaking, and begging for her life from her own goddamned father. 

Please don’t hurt her, please don’t. I made her. I forced her. It’s not her fault. 

He had a broken his eye socket and three broken ribs, one of which had punctured his lung. 

He’d been cut - bad, and they’d broken three fingers on his right hand. 

Doctor told him he’d never play guitar again, but all Eddie had heard was that he’d never boost a car again. He was well and truly fucked if that was the case. 

When Rick walked into the hospital room to find Eddie conscious, the first thing he’d said was, “Don’t ask. She’s alive, but as far as you’re concerned, she might as well not be.”

Then he told him that Donny and his boys had been following him the whole time, had even been in the airport when he’d met her flight. “You were fucked from the start,” Rick had said. “Nothing you could have done to stop it.” 

He remembers the nurse rushing in as he leant over the edge of the bed puking; feeling his stitches tear; feeling like he couldn’t pass out from the pain fast enough. 

*

When he blipped back, it was to Rick’s boat house of all the fucking places, under a tarp on a fucking dinghy. Rick had been working on his outboard at the time and Eddie popping up  had just about given the old bastard a heart attack. 

Eddie’s side was still warm where you’d been sleeping against him, he could still feel the curl of your hair against his fingers. His heart still hurt, but it beat a little differently now, a little calmer, a little more regular.

The space between his shoulders felt loose, too, like it’d unclenched for the first time in years. 

He’d scrambled to his feet, patted himself down and realized the knife was gone, but in its place was a scrap of paper with your hand writing on it. 

“Be at peace, baby,” it it said, with four kisses and the recipe for that fucking pizza stuff you’d fed him. 

He tells Rick a long rambling story and by the end he’s still not sure the guy believes a word; not sure he doesn’t think it’s just some ruse to find out where she is, even though it’s been a couple of years since Eddie had tried anything like that. 

Eddie doesn’t think he ever will again - doesn’t know if he needs to now he has this sense of how many times the universe has thrown you and him - him and her - together and how often Eddie - another Eddie, sure, but and Eddie all the same - gets to live his life with you - her - in it.  

“Hey,” he asks Rick later, when he’s given up trying to convince him of anything, and the pair of them are just sitting there getting blazed like the old days instead. “What was the name of that cousin of yours, runs that sandwich shop in Chicago?” 

“Who, Carmy?” Rick says, nonplussed. “Fucking five star chef, chucked it all to run a goddamned beef sandwich shop. He’s an idiot. But the shop’s doing OK.” 

“Yeah?” Eddie replies, unfolding the recipe again and looking over the deceptively simple ingredients. “I was thinking I need a change of pace. Reckon he might need a bus boy?”

[ilovetulips]

mlist

— steve harrington [ drabbles ] . [ thoughts ]

sfw

best friends? attacked kiss the chef death of me

— eddie munson [ drabbles ] . [ thoughts ]

sfw

-

nsfw

tattooist eddie — part1. — part.2